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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/29128-8.txt b/29128-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..cc9c845 --- /dev/null +++ b/29128-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6151 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, David Dunne, by Belle Kanaris Maniates, +Illustrated by John Drew + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: David Dunne + A Romance of the Middle West + + +Author: Belle Kanaris Maniates + + + +Release Date: June 15, 2009 [eBook #29128] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAVID DUNNE*** + + +E-text prepared by Roger Frank and the Project Gutenberg Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 29128-h.htm or 29128-h.zip: + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/29128/29128-h/29128-h.htm) + or + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/29128/29128-h.zip) + + + + + +DAVID DUNNE + +A Romance of the Middle West + +by + +BELLE KANARIS MANIATES + +With illustrations by John Drew + + + + + + + +[Illustration: "_He stood as if at bay, his face pale, his eyes riveted +on those floating banners_" Page 218] + + + +Rand McNally & Company +Chicago--New York + +Copyright, 1912, by +Rand, McNally & Company + + + + + +To Milly and Gardner + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + "_He stood as if at bay, his face pale, his eyes + riveted on those floating banners_" _Frontispiece_ + + FACING PAGE + + "'_Dave's little gal!_'" 11 + + "_With proudly protective air, David walked beside + the stiffly starched little girl_" 42 + + "_David's friends were surprised to receive an + off-hand invitation from him to 'drop in for a little + country spread'_" 148 + + "_He kept his word. Jud was cleared_" 158 + + "_It was a relief to find Carey alone_" 224 + + "_'Carey, will you make the dream a reality?'_" 238 + + + + +[Illustration: "'_Dave's little gal!_'"] + + + + +PART ONE + +CHAPTER I + + +Across lots to the Brumble farm came the dusty apparition of a boy, a +tousle-headed, freckle-faced, gaunt-eyed little fellow, clad in a sort +of combination suit fashioned from a pair of overalls and a woman's +shirtwaist. In search of "Miss M'ri," he looked into the kitchen, the +henhouse, the dairy, and the flower garden. Not finding her in any of +these accustomed places, he stood still in perplexity. + +"Miss M'ri!" rang out his youthful, vibrant treble. + +There was a note of promise in the pleasant voice that came back in +subterranean response. + +"Here, David, in the cellar." + +The lad set down the tin pail he was carrying and eagerly sped to the +cellar. His fondest hopes were realized. M'ri Brumble, thirty odd +years of age, blue of eye, slightly gray of hair, and sweet of heart, +was lifting the cover from the ice-cream freezer. + +"Well, David Dunne, you came in the nick of time," she said, looking +up with kindly eyes. "It's just frozen. I'll dish you up some now, if +you will run up to the pantry and fetch two saucers--biggest you can +find." + +Fleetly David footed the stairs and returned with two soup plates. + +"These were the handiest," he explained apologetically as he handed +them to her. + +"Just the thing," promptly reassured M'ri, transferring a heaping +ladle of yellow cream to one of the plates. "Easy to eat out of, +too." + +"My, but you are giving me a whole lot," he said, watching her +approvingly and encouragingly. "I hope you ain't robbing yourself." + +"Oh, no; I always make plenty," she replied, dishing a smaller portion +for herself. "Here's enough for our dinner and some for you to carry +home to your mother." + +"I haven't had any since last Fourth of July," he observed in +plaintive reminiscence as they went upstairs. + +"Why, David Dunne, how you talk! You just come over here whenever you +feel like eating ice cream, and I'll make you some. It's no trouble." + +They sat down on the west, vine-clad porch to enjoy their feast in +leisure and shade. M'ri had never lost her childish appreciation of +the delicacy, and to David the partaking thereof was little short of +ecstasy. He lingered longingly over the repast, and when the soup +plate would admit of no more scraping he came back with a sigh to +sordid cares. + +"Mother couldn't get the washing done no-ways to-day. She ain't +feeling well, but you can have the clothes to-morrow, sure. She sent +you some sorghum," pointing to the pail. + +M'ri took the donation into the kitchen. When she brought back the +pail it was filled with eggs. Not to send something in return would +have been an unpardonable breach of country etiquette. + +"Your mother said your hens weren't laying," she said. + +The boy's eyes brightened. + +"Thank you, Miss M'ri; these will come in good. Our hens won't lay nor +set. Mother says they have formed a union. But I 'most forgot to tell +you--when I came past Winterses, Ziny told me to ask you to come over +as soon as you could." + +"I suppose Zine has got one of her low spells," said Barnabas Brumble, +who had just come up from the barn. "Most likely Bill's bin gittin' +tight agin. He--" + +"Oh, no!" interrupted his sister hastily. "Bill has quit drinking." + +"Bill's allers a-quittin'. Trouble with Bill is, he can't stay quit. I +see him yesterday comin' down the road zig-zaggin' like a rail fence. +Fust she knows, she'll hev to be takin' washin' to support him. +Sometimes I think 't would be a good idee to let him git sent over the +road onct. Mebby 't would learn him a lesson--" + +He stopped short, noticing the significant look in M'ri's eyes and the +two patches of color spreading over David's thin cheeks. He recalled +that four years ago the boy's father had died in state prison. + +"You'd better go right over to Zine's," he added abruptly. + +"I'll wait till after dinner. We'll have it early." + +"Hev it now," suggested Barnabas. + +"Now!" ejaculated David. "It's only half-past ten." + +"I could eat it now jest as well as I could at twelve," argued the +philosophical Barnabas. "Jest as leaves as not." + +There were no iron-clad rules in this comfortable household, +especially when Pennyroyal, the help, was away. + +"All right," assented M'ri with alacrity. "If I am going to do +anything, I like to do it right off quick and get it over with. You +stay, David, if you can eat dinner so early." + +"Yes, I can," he assured her, recalling his scanty breakfast and the +freezer of cream that was to furnish the dessert. "I'll help you get +it, Miss M'ri." + +He brought a pail of water from the well, filled the teakettle, and +then pared the potatoes for her. + +"When will Jud and Janey get their dinner?" he asked Barnabas. + +"They kerried their dinner to-day. The scholars air goin' to hev a +picnic down to Spicely's grove. How comes it you ain't to school, +Dave?" + +"I have to help my mother with the washing," he replied, a slow flush +coming to his face. "She ain't strong enough to do it alone." + +"What on airth kin you do about a washin', Dave?" + +"I can draw the water, turn the wringer, hang up the clothes, empty +the tubs, fetch and carry the washings, and mop." + +Barnabas puffed fiercely at his pipe for a moment. + +"You're a good boy, Dave, a mighty good boy. I don't know what your ma +would do without you. I hed to leave school when I wa'n't as old as +you, and git out and hustle so the younger children could git +eddicated. By the time I wuz foot-loose from farm work, I wuz too old +to git any larnin'. You'd orter manage someway, though, to git +eddicated." + +"Mother's taught me to read and write and spell. When I get old enough +to work for good wages I can go into town to the night school." + +In a short time M'ri had cooked a dinner that would have tempted less +hearty appetites than those possessed by her brother and David. + +"You ain't what might be called a delikit feeder, Dave," remarked +Barnabas, as he replenished the boy's plate for the third time. +"You're so lean I don't see where you put it all." + +David might have responded that the vacuum was due to the fact that +his breakfast had consisted of a piece of bread and his last night's +supper of a dish of soup, but the Dunne pride inclined to reservation +on family and personal matters. He speared another small potato and +paused, with fork suspended between mouth and plate. + +"Mother says she thinks I am hollow inside like a stovepipe." + +"Well, I dunno. Stovepipes git filled sometimes," ruminated his host. + +"Leave room for the ice cream, David," cautioned M'ri, as she +descended to the cellar. + +The lad's eyes brightened as he beheld the golden pyramid. Another +period of lingering bliss, and then with a sigh of mingled content and +regret, David rose from the table. + +"Want me to hook up for you, Mr. Brumble?" he asked, moved to show his +gratitude for the hospitality extended. + +"Why, yes, Dave; wish you would. My back is sorter lame to-day. Land +o' livin'," he commented after David had gone to the barn, "but that +boy swallered them potaters like they wuz so many pills!" + +"Poor Mrs. Dunne!" sighed M'ri. "I am afraid it's all she can do to +keep a very small pot boiling. I am glad she sent the sorghum, so I +could have an excuse for sending the eggs." + +"She hain't poor so long as she hez a young sprout like Dave a-growin' +up. We used to call Peter Dunne 'Old Hickory,' but Dave, he's +second-growth hickory. He's the kind to bend and not break. Jest you +wait till he's seasoned onct." + +After she had packed a pail of ice cream for David, gathered some +flowers for Ziny, and made out a memorandum of supplies for Barnabas +to get in town, M'ri set out on her errand of mercy. + +The "hooking up" accomplished, David, laden with a tin pail in each +hand and carrying in his pocket a drawing of black tea for his mother +to sample, made his way through sheep-dotted pastures to Beechum's +woods, and thence along the bank of the River Rood. Presently he spied +a young man standing knee-deep in the stream in the patient pose +peculiar to fishermen. + +"Catch anything?" called David eagerly. + +The man turned and came to shore. He wore rubber hip boots, dark +trousers, a blue flannel shirt, and a wide-brimmed hat. His eyes, blue +and straight-gazing, rested reminiscently upon the lad. + +"No," he replied calmly. "I didn't intend to catch anything. What is +your name?" + +"David Dunne." + +The man meditated. + +"You must be about twelve years old." + +"How did you know?" + +"I am a good guesser. What have you got in your pail?" + +"Which one?" + +"Both." + +"Thought you were a good guesser." + +The youth laughed. + +"You'll do, David. Let me think--where did you come from just now?" + +"From Brumble's." + +"It's ice cream you've got in your pail," he said assuredly. + +"That's just what it is!" cried the boy in astonishment, "and there's +eggs in the other pail." + +"Let's have a look at the ice cream." + +David lifted the cover. + +"It looks like butter," declared the stranger. + +"It don't taste like butter," was the indignant rejoinder. "Miss M'ri +makes the best cream of any one in the country." + +"I knew that, my young friend, before you did. It's a long time since +I had any, though. Will you sell it to me, David? I will give you half +a dollar for it." + +Half a dollar! His mother had to work all day to earn that amount. The +ice cream was not his--not entirely. Miss M'ri had sent it to his +mother. Still-- + +"'T will melt anyway before I get home," he argued aloud and +persuasively. + +"Of course it will," asserted the would-be purchaser. + +David surrendered the pail, and after much protestation consented to +receive the piece of money which the young man pressed upon him. + +"You'll have to help me eat it now; there's no pleasure in eating ice +cream alone." + +"We haven't any spoons," commented the boy dubiously. + +"We will go to my house and eat it." + +"Where do you live?" asked David in surprise. + +"Just around the bend of the river here." + +David's freckles darkened. He didn't like to be made game of by older +people, for then there was no redress. + +"There isn't any house within two miles of here," he said shortly. + +"What'll you bet? Half a dollar?" + +"No," replied David resolutely. + +"Well, come and see." + +David followed his new acquaintance around the wooded bank. The river +was full of surprises to-day. In midstream he saw what looked to him +like a big raft supporting a small house. + +"That's my shanty boat," explained the young man, as he shoved a +rowboat from shore. "Jump in, my boy." + +"Do you live in it all the time?" asked David, watching with +admiration the easy but forceful pull on the oars. + +"No; I am on a little fishing and hunting expedition." + +"Can't kill anything now," said the boy, a derisive smile flickering +over his features. + +"I am not hunting to kill, my lad. I am hunting old scenes and +memories of other days. I used to live about here. I ran away eight +years ago when I was just your age." + +"What is your name?" asked David interestedly. + +"Joe Forbes." + +"Oh," was the eager rejoinder. "I know. You are Deacon Forbes' wild +son that ran away." + +"So that's how I am known around here, is it? Well, I've come back, to +settle up my father's estate." + +"What did you run away for?" inquired David. + +"Combination of too much stepmother and a roving spirit, I guess. Here +we are." + +He sprang on the platform of the shanty boat and helped David on +board. The boy inspected this novel house in wonder while his host set +saucers and spoons on the table. + +"Would you mind," asked David in an embarrassed manner as he wistfully +eyed the coveted luxury, "if I took my dishful home?" + +"What's the matter?" asked Forbes, his eyes twinkling. "Eaten too much +already?" + +"No; but you see my mother likes it and she hasn't had any since last +summer. I'd rather take mine to her." + +"There's plenty left for your mother. I'll put this pail in a bigger +one and pack ice about it. Then it won't melt." + +"But you paid me for it," protested David. + +"That's all right. Your mother was pretty good to me when I was a +boy. She dried my mop of hair for me once so my stepmother would not +know I'd been in swimming. Tell her I sent the cream to her. Say, you +were right about Miss M'ri making the best cream in the country. It +used to be a chronic pastime with her. That's how I guessed what you +had when you said you came from there. Whenever there was a picnic or +a surprise party in the country she always furnished the ice cream. +Isn't she married yet?" + +"No." + +"Doesn't she keep company with some lucky man?" + +"No," again denied the boy emphatically. + +"What's the matter? She used to be awfully pretty and sweet." + +"She is now, but she don't want any man." + +"Well, now, David, that isn't quite natural, you know. Why do you +think she doesn't want one?" + +"I heard say she was crossed once." + +"Crossed, David? And what might that be?" asked Forbes in a delighted +feint of perplexity. + +"Disappointed in love, you know." + +"Yes; it all comes back now--the gossip of my boyhood days. She was +going with a man when Barnabas' wife died and left two children--one a +baby--and Miss M'ri gave up her lover to do her duty by her brother's +family. So Barnabas never married again?" + +"No; Miss M'ri keeps house and brings up Jud and Janey." + +"I remember Jud--mean little shaver. Janey must be the baby." + +"She's eight now." + +"I remember you, David. You were a little toddler of four--all eyes. +Your folks had a place right on the edge of town." + +"We left it when I was six years old and came out here," informed +David. + +Forbes' groping memory recalled the gossip that had reached him in the +Far West. "Dunne went to prison," he mused, "and the farm was +mortgaged to defray the expenses of the trial." He hastened back to a +safer channel. + +"Miss M'ri was foolish to spoil her life and the man's for fancied +duty," he observed. + +David bridled. + +"Barnabas couldn't go to school when he was a boy because he had to +work so she and the other children could go. She'd ought to have stood +by him." + +"I see you have a sense of duty, too. This county was always strong on +duty. I suppose they've got it in for me because I ran away?" + +"Mr. Brumble says it was a wise thing for you to do. Uncle Larimy says +you were a brick of a boy. Miss Rhody says she had no worry about her +woodpile getting low when you were here." + +"Poor Miss Rhody! Does she still live alone? And Uncle Larimy--is he +uncle to the whole community? What fishing days I had with him! I must +look him up and tell him all my adventures. I have planned a round of +calls for to-night--Miss M'ri, Miss Rhody, Uncle Larimy--" + +"Tell me about your adventures," demanded David breathlessly. + +He listened to a wondrous tale of western life, and never did narrator +get into so close relation with his auditor as did this young ranchman +with David Dunne. + +"I must go home," said the boy reluctantly when Joe had concluded. + +"Come down to-morrow, David, and we'll go fishing." + +"All right. Thank you, sir." + +With heart as light as air, David sped through the woods. He had found +his Hero. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +David struck out from the shelter of the woodland and made his way to +his home, a pathetically small, rudely constructed house. The patch of +land supposed to be a garden, and in proportion to the dimensions of +the building, showed a few feeble efforts at vegetation. It was not +positively known that the Widow Dunne had a clear title to her +homestead, but one would as soon think of foreclosing a mortgage on a +playhouse, or taking a nest from a bird, as to press any claim on this +fallow fragment in the midst of prosperous farmlands. + +Some discouraged looking fowls picked at the scant grass, a lean cow +switched a lackadaisical tail, and in a pen a pig grunted his +discontent. + +David went into the little kitchen, where a woman was bending wearily +over a washtub. + +"Mother," cried the boy in dismay, "you said you'd let the washing go +till to-morrow. That's why I didn't come right back." + +She paused in the rubbing of a soaped garment and wrung the suds from +her tired and swollen hands. + +"I felt better, David, and I thought I'd get them ready for you to +hang out." + +David took the garment from her. + +"Sit down and eat this ice cream Miss M'ri sent--no, I mean Joe Forbes +sent you. There was more, but I sold it for half a dollar; and here's +a pail of eggs and a drawing of tea she wants you to sample. She says +she is no judge of black tea." + +"Joe Forbes!" exclaimed his mother interestedly. "I thought maybe he +would be coming back to look after the estate. Is he going to stay?" + +"I'll tell you all about him, mother, if you will sit down." + +He began a vigorous turning of the wringer. + +The patient, tired-looking eyes of the woman brightened as she dished +out a saucer of the cream. The weariness in the sensitive lines of her +face and the prominence of her knuckles bore evidence of a life of +sordid struggle, but, above all, the mother love illumined her +features with a flash of radiance. + +"You're a good provider, David; but tell me where you have been for so +long, and where did you see Joe?" + +He gave her a faithful account of his dinner at the Brumble farm and +his subsequent meeting with Joe, working the wringer steadily as he +talked. + +"There!" he exclaimed with a sigh of satisfaction, "they are ready for +the line, but before I hang them out I am going to cook your dinner." + +"I am rested now, David. I will cook me an egg." + +"No, I will," insisted the boy, going to the stove. + +A few moments later, with infinite satisfaction, he watched her +partake of crisp toast, fresh eggs, and savory tea. + +"Did you see Jud and Janey?" she asked suddenly. + +"No; they were at school." + +"David, you shall go regularly to school next fall." + +"No," said David stoutly; "next fall I am going to work regularly for +some of the farmers, and you are not going to wash any more." + +Her eyes grew moist. + +"David, will you always be good--will you grow up to be as good a man +as I want you to be?" + +"How good do you want me to be?" he asked dubiously. + +A radiant and tender smile played about her mouth. + +"Not goodygood, David; but will you always be honest, and brave, and +kind, as you are now?" + +"I'll try, mother." + +"And never forget those who do you a kindness, David; always show your +gratitude." + +"Yes, mother." + +"And, David, watch your temper and, whatever happens, I shall have no +fears for your future." + +His mother seldom talked to him in this wise. He thought about it +after he lay in his little cot in the sitting room that night; then +his mind wandered to Joe Forbes and his wonderful tales of the West. +He fell asleep to dream of cowboys and prairies. When he awoke the sun +was sending golden beams through the eastward window. + +"Mother isn't up," he thought in surprise. He stole quietly out to the +kitchen, kindled a fire with as little noise as possible, put the +kettle over, set the table, and then went into the one tiny bedroom +where his mother lay in her bed, still--very still. + +"Mother," he said softly. + +There was no response. + +"Mother," he repeated. Then piercingly, in excitement and fear, +"Mother!" + +At last he knew. + +He ran wildly to the outer door. Bill Winters, fortunately sober, was +driving slowly by. + +"Bill!" + +"What's the matter, Dave?" looking into the boy's white face. "Your ma +ain't sick, is she?" + +David's lips quivered, but seemed almost unable to articulate. + +"She's dead," he finally whispered. + +"I'll send Zine right over," exclaimed Bill, slapping the reins +briskly across the drooping neck of his horse. + +Very soon the little house was filled to overflowing with kind and +sympathetic neighbors who had come to do all that had to be done. +David sat on the back doorstep until M'ri came; before the expression +in his eyes she felt powerless to comfort him. + +"The doctor says your mother died in her sleep," she told him. "She +didn't suffer any." + +He made no reply. Oppressed by the dull pain for which there is no +ease, he wandered from the house to the garden, and from the garden +back to the house throughout the day. At sunset Barnabas drove over. + +"I shall stay here to-night, Barnabas," said M'ri, "but I want you to +drive back and get some things. I've made out a list. Janey will know +where to find them." + +"Sha'n't I take Dave back to stay to-night?" he suggested. + +M'ri hesitated, and looked at David. + +"No," he said dully, following Barnabas listlessly down the path to +the road. + +Barnabas, keen, shrewd, and sharp at a bargain, had a heart that ever +softened to motherless children. + +"Dave," he said gently, "your ma won't never hev to wash no more, and +she'll never be sick nor tired agen." + +It was the first leaven to his loss, and he held tight to the horny +hand of his comforter. After Barnabas had driven away there came +trudging down the road the little, lithe figure of an old man, who was +carrying a large box. His mildly blue, inquiring eyes looked out from +beneath their hedge of shaggy eyebrows. His hair and his beard were +thick and bushy. Joe Forbes maintained that Uncle Larimy would look no +different if his head were turned upside down. + +"David," he said softly, "I've brung yer ma some posies. She liked my +yaller roses, you know. I'm sorry my laylocks are gone. They come +early this year." + +"Thank you, Uncle Larimy." + +A choking sensation warned David to say no more. + +"Things go 'skew sometimes, Dave, but the sun will shine agen," +reminded the old man, as he went on into the house. + +Later, when sundown shadows had vanished and the first glimmer of the +stars radiated from a pale sky, Joe came over. David felt no thrill at +sight of his hero. The halo was gone. He only remembered with a dull +ache that the half dollar had brought his mother none of the luxuries +he had planned to buy for her. + +"David," said the young ranchman, his deep voice softened, "my mother +died when I was younger than you are, but you won't have a stepmother +to make life unbearable for you." + +The boy looked at him with inscrutable eyes. + +"Don't you want to go back with me to the ranch, David? You can learn +to ride and shoot." + +David shook his head forlornly. His spirit of adventure was +smothered. + +"We'll talk about it again, David," he said, as he went in to consult +M'ri. + +"Don't you think the only thing for the boy to do is to go back with +me? I am going to buy the ranch on which I've been foreman, and I'll +try to do for David all that should have been done for me when I, at +his age, felt homeless and alone. He's the kind that takes things hard +and quiet; life in the open will pull him up." + +"No, Joe," replied M'ri resolutely. "He's not ready for that kind of +life yet. He needs to be with women and children a while longer. +Barnabas and I are going to take him. Barnabas suggested it, and I +told Mrs. Dunne one day, when her burdens were getting heavy, that we +would do so if anything like this should happen." + +Joe looked at her with revering eyes. + +"Miss M'ri, you are so good to other people's children, what would you +be to your own!" + +The passing of M'ri's youth had left a faint flush of prettiness like +the afterglow of a sunset faded into twilight. She was of the kind +that old age would never wither. In the deep blue eyes was a patient, +reflective look that told of a past but unforgotten romance. She +turned from his gaze, but not before he had seen the wistfulness his +speech had evoked. After he had gone, she sought David. + +"I am going to stay here with you, David, for two or three days. Then +Barnabas and I want you to come to live with us. I had a long talk +with your mother one day, and I told her if anything happened to her +you should be our boy. That made her less anxious about the future, +David. Will you come?" + +The boy looked up with his first gleam of interest in mundane things. + +"I'd like it, but would--Jud?" + +"I am afraid Jud doesn't like anything, David," she replied with a +sigh. "That's one reason I want you--to be a big brother to Janey, for +I think that is what she needs, and what Jud can never be." + +The boy remembered what his mother had counseled. + +"I'll always take care of Janey," he earnestly assured her. + +"I know you will, David." + +Two dreary days passed in the way that such days do pass, and then +David rode to his new home with Barnabas and M'ri. + +Jud Brumble, a refractory, ungovernable lad of fifteen, didn't look +altogether unfavorably upon the addition to the household, knowing +that his amount of work would thereby be lessened, and that he would +have a new victim for his persecutions and tyrannies. + +Janey, a little rosebud of a girl with dimples and flaxen curls, hung +back shyly and looked at David with awed eyes. She had been frightened +by what she had heard about his mother, and in a vague, disconnected +way she associated him with Death. M'ri went to the child's bedside +that night and explained the situation. "Poor Davey is all alone, now, +and very unhappy, so we must be kind to him. I told him you were to be +his little sister." + +Then M'ri took David to a gabled room, at each end of which was a +swinging window--"one for seeing the sun rise, and one for seeing it +set," she said, as she turned back the covers from the spotless white +bed. She yearned to console him, but before the mute look of grief in +his big eyes she was silent. + +"I wish he would cry," she said wistfully to Barnabas, "he hasn't shed +a tear since his mother died." + +No sooner had the sound of her footsteps ceased than David threw off +his armor of self-restraint and burst into a passion of sobs, the +wilder for their long repression. He didn't hear the patter of little +feet on the floor, and not until two mothering arms were about his +neck did he see the white-robed figure of Janey. + +"Don't cry, Davey," she implored, her quivering red mouth against his +cheek. "I'm sorry; but I am your little sister now, so you must love +me, Davey. Aunt M'ri told me so." + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +The lilac-scented breeze of early morning blowing softly through the +vine-latticed window and stirring its white draperies brought David to +wakefulness. With the first surprise at the strangeness of his +surroundings came a fluttering of memory. The fragrance of lilacs was +always hereafter to bring back the awfulness of this waking moment. + +He hurriedly dressed, and went down to the kitchen where M'ri was +preparing breakfast. + +"Good morning, David. Janey has gone to find some fresh eggs. You may +help her hunt them, if you will." + +Knowing the haunts of hens, he went toward the currant bushes. It was +one of those soft days that link late spring and dawning summer. The +coolness of the sweet-odored air, the twitter of numberless dawn +birds, the entreating lowing of distant cattle--all breathing life and +strength--were like a resurrection call to David. + +On the east porch, which was his retreat for a smoke or a rest between +the intervals of choring and meals, Barnabas sat, securely wedged in +by the washing machine, the refrigerator, the plant stand, the churn, +the kerosene can, and the lawn mower. He gazed reflectively after +David. + +"What are you going to hev Dave do to help, M'ri?" + +M'ri came to the door and considered a moment. + +"First of all, Barnabas, I am going to have him eat. He is so thin and +hungry looking." + +Barnabas chuckled. His sister's happiest mission was the feeding of +hungry children. + +After breakfast, when Janey's rebellious curls were again being +brushed into shape, M'ri told David he could go to school if he liked. +To her surprise the boy flushed and looked uncomfortable. M'ri's +intuitions were quick and generally correct. + +"It's so near the end of the term, though," she added casually, as an +afterthought, "that maybe you had better wait until next fall to start +in." + +"Yes, please, Miss M'ri, I'd rather," he said quickly and gratefully. + +When Janey, dinner pail in hand and books under arm, was ready to +start, David asked in surprise where Jud was. + +"Oh, he has gone long ago. He thinks he is too big to walk with +Janey." + +David quietly took the pail and books from the little girl. + +"I'll take you to school, Janey, and come for you this afternoon." + +"We won't need to git no watch dog to foller Janey," said Barnabas, as +the children started down the path. + +"David," called M'ri, "stop at Miss Rhody's on your way back and find +out whether my waist is finished." + +With proudly protective air, David walked beside the stiffly starched +little girl, who had placed her hand trustfully in his. They had gone +but a short distance when they were overtaken by Joe Forbes, mounted +on a shining black horse. He reined up and looked down on them +good-humoredly. + +[Illustration: "_With proudly protective air, David walked beside the +stiffly starched little girl_"] + +"Going to school, children?" + +"I am. Davey's just going to carry my things for me," explained +Janey. + +"Well, I can do that and carry you into the bargain. Help her up, +David." + +Janey cried out in delight at the prospect of a ride. David lifted her +up, and Joe settled her comfortably in the saddle, encircling her with +his arm. Then he looked down whimsically into David's disappointed +eyes. + +"I know it's a mean trick, Dave, to take your little sweetheart from +you." + +"She's not my sweetheart; she's my sister." + +"Has she promised to be that already? Get up, Firefly." + +They were off over the smooth country road, Forbes shouting a +bantering good-by and Janey waving a triumphant dinner pail, while +David, trudging on his way, experienced the desolate feeling of the +one who is left behind. Across fields he came to the tiny, thatched +cottage of Miss Rhody Crabbe, who stood on the crumbling doorstep +feeding some little turkeys. + +"Come in, David. I suppose you're after M'ri's waist. Thar's jest a +few stitches to take, and I'll hev it done in no time." + +He followed her into the little house, which consisted of a sitting +room "with bedroom off," and a kitchen whose floor was sand scoured; +the few pieces of tinware could be used as mirrors. Miss Rhody seated +herself by the open window and began to ply her needle. She did not +sew swiftly and smoothly, in feminine fashion, but drew her +long-threaded needle through the fabric in abrupt and forceful jerks. +A light breeze fluttered in through the window, but it could not +ruffle the wisp-locked hair that showed traces of a water-dipped comb +and was strained back so taut that a little mound of flesh encircled +each root. Her eyes were bead bright and swift moving. Everything +about her, to the aggressively prominent knuckles, betokened energy +and industry. She was attired in a blue calico shortened by many +washings, but scrupulously clean and conscientiously starched. Her +face shone with soap and serenity. + +Miss Rhody's one diversion in a busy but monotonous life was news. She +was wretched if she did not receive the latest bulletins; but it was +to her credit that she never repeated anything that might work harm or +mischief. David was one of her chosen confidants. He was a safe +repository of secrets, a sympathetic listener, and a wise suggester. + +"I'm glad M'ri's hevin' a blue waist. She looks so sweet in blue. I've +made her clo'es fer years. My, how I hoped fer to make her weddin' +clo'es onct! It wuz a shame to hev sech a good match spiled. It wuz +too bad she hed to hev them two chillern on her hands--" + +"And now she has a third," was what David thought he read in her eyes, +and he hastened to assert: "I am going to help all I can, and I'll +soon be old enough to take care of myself." + +"Land sakes, David, you'd be wuth more'n yer keep to any one. I +wonder," she said ruminatingly, "if Martin Thorne will wait for her +till Janey's growed up." + +"Martin Thorne!" exclaimed David excitedly. "Judge Thorne? Why, was he +the one--" + +"He spent his Sunday evenings with her," she asserted solemnly. + +In the country code of courtships this procedure was conclusive proof, +and David accepted it as such. + +"He wuz jest plain Lawyer Thorne when he wuz keepin' company with +M'ri, but we all knew Mart wuz a comin' man, and M'ri wuz jest proud +of him. You could see that, and he wuz sot on her." + +Her work momentarily neglected, Rhody was making little reminiscent +stabs at space with her needle as she spoke. + +"'T wuz seven years ago. M'ri wuz twenty-eight and Mart ten years +older. It would hev ben a match as sure as preachin', but Eliza died +and M'ri, she done her duty as she seen it. Sometimes I think folks is +near-sighted about their duty. There is others as is queer-sighted. +Bein' crossed hain't spiled M'ri though. She's kep' sweet through it +all, but when a man don't git his own way, he's apt to curdle. Mart +got sort of tart-tongued and cold feelin'. There wa'n't no reason why +they couldn't a kep' on bein' friends, but Mart must go and make a +fool vow that he'd never speak to M'ri until she sent him word she'd +changed her mind, so he hez ben a-spitin' of his face ever sence. It's +wonderful how some folks do git in their own way, but, my sakes, I +must git to work so you kin take this waist home." + +This was David's first glimpse of a romance outside of story-books, +but the name of Martin Thorne evoked disturbing memories. Six years +ago he had acted as attorney to David's father in settling his +financial difficulties, and later, after Peter Dunne's death, the +Judge had settled the small estate. It was only through his efforts +that they were enabled to have the smallest of roofs over their +defenseless heads. + +"Miss Rhody," he asked after a long meditation on life in general, +"why didn't you ever marry?" + +Miss Rhody paused again in her work, and two little spots of red crept +into her cheeks. + +"'Tain't from ch'ice I've lived single, David. I've ben able to take +keer of myself, but I allers hed a hankerin' same as any woman, as is +a woman, hez fer a man, but I never got no chanst to meet men folks. I +wuz raised here, and folks allers hed it all cut out fer me to be an +old maid. When a woman onct gets that name fixt on her, it's all off +with her chances. No man ever comes nigh her, and she can't git out of +her single rut. I never could get to go nowhars, and I wa'n't that +bold kind that makes up to a man fust, afore he gives a sign." + +David pondered over this wistful revelation for a few moments, seeking +a means for her seemingly hopeless escape from a life of single +blessedness, for David was a sympathetic young altruist, and felt it +incumbent upon him to lift the burdens of his neighbors. Then he +suggested encouragingly: + +"Miss Rhody, did you know that there was a paper that gets you +acquainted with men? That's the way they say Zine Winters got +married." + +"Yes, and look what she drawed!" she scoffed. "Bill! I don't know how +they'd live if Zine hadn't a-gone in heavy on hens and turkeys. She +hez to spend her hull time a-traipsin' after them turkeys, and thar +ain't nuthin' that's given to gaddin' like turkeys that I know on, +less 't is Chubbses' hired gal. No, David, it's chance enough when +you git a man you've knowed allers, but a stranger! Well! I want to +know what I'm gittin'. Thar, the last stitch in M'ri's waist is took, +and, David, you won't tell no one what I said about Mart Thorne and +her, nor about my gittin' merried?" + +David gave her a reproachful look, and she laughed shamefacedly. + +"I know, David, you kin keep a secret. It's like buryin' a thing to +tell it to you. My, this waist'll look fine on M'ri. I jest love the +feel of silk. I'd ruther hev a black silk dress than--" + +"A husband," prompted David slyly. + +"David Dunne, I'll box yer ears if you ever think again of what I +said. I am allers a-thinkin' of you as if you wuz a stiddy grown man, +and then fust thing I know you're nuthin' but a teasin' boy. Here's +the bundle, and don't you want a nutcake, David?" + +"No, thank you, Miss Rhody. I ate a big breakfast." + +A fellow feeling had prompted David even in his hungriest days to +refrain from accepting Miss Rhody's proffers of hospitality. He knew +the emptiness of her larder, for though she had been thrifty and +hard-working, she had paid off a mortgage and had made good the +liabilities of an erring nephew. + +When David returned he found Miss M'ri in the dairy. It was churning +day, and she was arranging honey-scented, rose-stamped pats of butter +on moist leaves of crisp lettuce. + +"David," she asked, looking up with a winning smile, "will you tell me +why you didn't want to go to school?" + +The boy's face reddened, but his eyes looked frankly into hers. + +"Yes, Miss M'ri." + +"Before you tell me, David," she interposed, "I want you to remember +that, from now on, Barnabas and I are your uncle and aunt." + +"Well, then, Aunt M'ri," began David, a ring of tremulous eagerness in +his voice, "I can read and write and spell, but I don't know much +about arithmetic and geography. I was ashamed to start in at the baby +class. I thought I'd try and study out of Jud's books this summer." + +"That's a good idea, David. We'll begin now. You'll find an elementary +geography in the sitting room on the shelf, and you may study the +first lesson. This afternoon, when my work is done, I'll hear you +recite it." + +David took the book and went out into the old orchard. When M'ri went +to call him to dinner he was sprawled out in the latticed shadow of an +apple tree, completely absorbed in the book. + +"You have spent two hours on your first lesson, David. You ought to +have it well learned." + +He looked at her in surprise. + +"I read the whole book through, Aunt M'ri." + +"Oh, David," she expostulated, "that's the way Barnabas takes his +medicine. Instead of the prescribed dose after each meal he takes +three doses right after breakfast--so as to get it off his mind and +into his system, he says. We'll just have one short lesson in +geography and one in arithmetic each day. You mustn't do things in +leaps. It's the steady dog trot that lasts, and counts on the long +journey." + +When David was on his way to bring Janey from school that afternoon +he was again overtaken by Joe Forbes. + +"Dave, I am going to Chicago in a few days, and I shall stop there +long enough to buy a few presents to send back to some of my friends. +Here's my list. Let me see, Uncle Larimy, a new-fangled fishing +outfit; Barnabas, a pipe; Miss M'ri--guess, Dave." + +"You're the guesser, you know," reminded David. + +"It's a new kind of ice-cream freezer, of course." + +"She's going to freeze ice to-night," recalled David anticipatingly. + +"Freeze ice! What a paradoxical process! But what I want you to +suggest is something for Miss Rhody--something very nice." + +"What she wants most is something you can't get her," thought David, +looking up with a tantalizing little smile. Then her second wish +occurred to him. + +"I know something she wants dreadfully; something she never expects to +have." + +"That is just what I want to get for her." + +"It'll cost a lot." + +Joe disposed of that consideration by a munificent wave of the hand. + +"What is it?" + +"A black silk dress," informed the boy delightedly. + +"She shall have it. How many yards does it take, I wonder?" + +"We can ask Janey's teacher when we get to school," suggested the +boy. + +"So we can. I contrived to find out that Janey's heart is set on a +string of beads--blue beads. I suppose, to be decent, I shall have to +include Jud. What will it be?" + +"He wants a gun. He's a good shot, too." + +They loitered on the way, discussing Joe's gifts, until they met Janey +and Little Teacher coming toward them hand in hand. David quickly +secured the pail and books before Joe could appropriate them. He +wasn't going to be cut out a second time in one day. + +"Miss Williams," asked the young ranchman, "will your knowledge of +mathematics tell me how many yards of black silk I must get to make a +dress, and what kind of fixings I shall need for it?" + +"You don't have to know," she replied. "Just go into any department +store and tell them you want a dress pattern and the findings. They +will do the rest." + +"Shopping made easy. You shall have your reward now. My shanty boat is +just about opposite here. Suppose the four of us go down to the river +and have supper on board?" + +Little Teacher, to whom life was a vista of blackboards dotted with +vacations, thought this would be delightful. A passing child was made +a messenger to the farm, and they continued their way woodward to the +river, where the shanty boat was anchored. Little Teacher set the +table, Joe prepared the meal, while David sat out on deck, beguiling +Janey with wonderful stories. + +"This seems beautifully domestic to a cowboy," sighed Joe, looking +around the supper table, his gaze lingering on Little Teacher, who was +dimpling happily. Imaginative David proceeded to weave his third +romance that day, with a glad little beating of the heart, for he had +feared that Joe might be planning to wait for Janey, as the Judge was +doubtless waiting for M'ri. + +The children went directly home after supper, Joe accompanying Little +Teacher. Despite the keenness of David's sorrow the day had been a +peaceful, contented one, but when the shadows began to lengthen to +that most lonesome hour of lonesome days, when from home-coming cows +comes the sound of tinkling bells, a wave of longing swept over him, +and he stole away to the orchard. Again, a soft, sustaining little +hand crept into his. + +"Don't, Davey," pleaded a caressing voice, "don't make me cry." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Outside of the time allotted for the performance of a wholesome amount +of farm work and the preparation of his daily lessons, David was free +for diversions which had hitherto entered sparingly into his life. +After school hours and on Saturdays the Barnabas farm was the general +rendezvous for all the children within a three-mile radius. The old +woods by the river rang with the gay treble of childish laughter and +the ecstatic barking of dogs dashing in frantic pursuit. There was +always an open sesame to the cookie jar and the apple barrel. + +David suffered the common fate of all in having a dark cloud. Jud was +the dark cloud, and his silver lining had not yet materialized. + +In height and physical strength Jud was the superior, so he delighted +in taunting and goading the younger boy. There finally came a day when +instinctive self-respect upheld David in no longer resisting the call +to arms. Knowing Barnabas' disapproval of fighting, and with his +mother's parting admonition pricking his conscience, he went into +battle reluctantly and half-heartedly, so the fight was not prolonged, +and Jud's victory came easily. Barnabas, hurrying to the scene of +action, called Jud off and reprimanded him for fighting a smaller boy, +which hurt David far more than did the pummeling he had received. + +"What wuz you fighting fer, anyway?" he demanded of David. + +"Nothing," replied David laconically, "just fighting." + +"Jud picks on Davey all the time," was the information furnished by +the indignant Janey, who had followed her father. + +"Well, I forbid either one of you to fight again. Now, Jud, see that +you leave Dave alone after this." + +Emboldened by his easily won conquest and David's apparent lack of +prowess, Jud continued his jeering and nagging, but David set his lips +in a taut line of finality and endured in silence until there came the +taunt superlative. + +"Your mother was a washerwoman, and your father a convict." + +There surged through David a fierce animal hate. With a tight closing +of his hardy young fist, he rushed to the onslaught so swiftly and so +impetuously that Jud recoiled in fear and surprise. With his first +tiger-like leap David had the older boy by the throat and bore him to +the ground, maintaining and tightening his grip as they went down. + +"I'll kill you!" + +David's voice was steady and calm, but the boy on the ground +underneath felt the very hairs of his head rising at the look in the +dark eyes above his own. + +Fortunately for both of them Barnabas was again at hand. + +He jerked David to his feet. + +"Fightin' again, are you, after I told you not to!" + +"It was him, David, that began it. I never struck him," whimpered Jud, +edging away behind his father. + +"Did you, David?" asked Barnabas bluntly, still keeping his hold on +the boy, who was quivering with passion. + +"Yes." + +His voice sounded odd and tired, and there was an ache of bafflement +in his young eyes. + +"What fer? What did he do to make you so mad?" + +"He said my mother was a washerwoman and my father a convict! Let me +go! I'll kill him!" + +With a returning rush of his passion, David struggled in the man's +grasp. + +"Wait, Dave, I'll tend to him. Go to the barn, Jud!" he commanded his +son. + +Jud quailed before this new, strange note in his father's voice. + +"David was fighting. You said neither of us was to fight. 'T ain't +fair to take it out on me." + +Fairness was one of Barnabas' fixed and prominent qualities, but Jud +was not to gain favor by it this time. + +"Well, you don't suppose I'm a-goin' to lick Dave fer defendin' his +parents, do you? Besides, I'm not a-goin' to lick you fer fightin', +but fer sayin' what you did. I guess you'd hev found out that Dave +could wallop you ef he is smaller and younger." + +"He can't!" snarled Jud. "I didn't have no show. He came at me by +surprise." + +Barnabas reflected a moment. Then he said gravely: + +"When it's in the blood of two fellers to fight, why thar's got to be +a fight, that's all. Thar won't never be no peace until this ere +question's settled. Dave, do you still want to fight him?" + +A fierce aftermath of passion gleamed in David's eyes. + +"Yes!" he cried, his nostrils quivering. + +"And you'll fight fair? Jest to punish--with no thought of killin'?" + +"I'll fight fair," agreed the boy. + +"I'll see that you do. Come here, Jud." + +"I don't want to fight," protested Jud sullenly. + +"He's afraid," said David gleefully, every muscle quivering and +straining. + +"I ain't!" yelled Jud. + +"Come on, then," challenged David, a fierce joy tugging at his +heart. + +Jud came with deliberate precision and a swing of his left. He was +heavier and harder, but David was more agile, and his whole heart was +in the fight this time. They clutched and grappled and parried, and +finally went down; first one was on top, then the other. It was the +wage of brute force against elasticity; bluster against valor. Jud +fought in fear; David, in ferocity. At last David bore his oppressor +backward and downward. Jud, exhausted, ceased to struggle. + +"Thar!" exclaimed Barnabas, drawing a relieved breath. "I guess you +know how you stand now, and we'll all feel better. You've got all +that's comin' to you, Jud, without no more from me. You can both go to +the house and wash up." + +Uncle Larimy had arrived at the finish of the fight. + +"What's the trouble, Barnabas?" he asked interestedly, as the boys +walked away. + +The explanation was given, but they spoke in tones so low that David +could not overhear any part of the conversation from the men +following him until, as they neared the house, Uncle Larimy said: "I +was afeerd Dave hed his pa's temper snoozin' inside him. Mebby he'd +orter be told fer a warnin'." + +"I don't want to say nuthin' about it less I hev to. I'll wait till +the next time he loses his temper." + +David ducked his head in the wash basin on the bench outside the door. +After supper, when Barnabas came out on the back porch for his hour of +pipe, he called his young charge to him. Since the fight, David's face +had worn a subdued but contented expression. + +"Looks," thought Barnabas, "kinder eased off, like a dog when he licks +his chops arter the taste of blood has been drawed." + +"Set down, Dave. I want to talk to you. You done right to fight fer +yer folks, and you're a good fighter, which every boy orter be, but +when I come up to you and Jud I see that in yer face that I didn't +know was in you. You've got an orful temper, Dave. It's a good thing +to hev--a mighty good thing, if you kin take keer of it, but if you +let it go it's what leads to murder. Your pa hed the same kind of +let-loose temper that got him into heaps of trouble." + +"What did my father do?" he asked abruptly. + +Instinctively he had shrunk from asking his mother this question, and +pride had forbidden his seeking the knowledge elsewhere. + +"Some day, when you are older, you will know all about it. But +remember, when any one says anything like what Jud did, that yer ma +wouldn't want fer you to hev thoughts of killin'. You see, you fought +jest as well--probably better--when you hed cooled off a mite and hed +promised to fight fair. And ef you can't wrastle your temper and down +it as you did Jud, you're not a fust-class fighter." + +"I'll try," said David slowly, unable, however, to feel much remorse +for his outbreak. + +"Jud'll let you alone arter this. You'd better go to bed now. You need +a little extry sleep." + +M'ri came into his room when he was trying to mend a long rent in his +shirt. He flushed uncomfortably when her eye fell on the garment. She +took it from him. + +"I'll mend it, David. I don't wonder that your patience slipped its +leash, but--never fight when you have murder in your heart." + +When she had left the room, Janey's face, pink and fair as a baby +rose, looked in at the door. + +"It's very wicked to fight and get so mad, Davey." + +"I know it," he acknowledged readily. It was useless trying to make a +girl understand. + +There was a silence. Janey still lingered. + +"Davey," she asked in an awed whisper, "does it feel nice to be +wicked?" + +David shook his head non-committally. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +The rather strained relations between Jud and David were eased the +next day by the excitement attending the big package Barnabas brought +from town. It was addressed to David, but the removal of the outer +wrapping disclosed a number of parcels neatly labeled, also a note +from Joe, asking him to distribute the presents. + +David first selected the parcel marked "Janey" and handed it to her. + +"Blue beads!" she cried ecstatically. + +"Let me see, Janey," said M'ri. "Why, they're real turquoises and with +a gold clasp! I'll get you a string of blue beads for now, and you can +put these away till you're grown up." + +"I didn't tell Joe what to get for you, Aunt M'ri; honest, I didn't," +disclaimed David, with a laugh, as he handed the freezer to her. + +"We'll initiate it this very day, David." + +David handed Barnabas his pipe and gave Jud a letter which he opened +wonderingly, uttering a cry of pleasure when he realized the +contents. + +"It's an order on Harkness to let me pick out any rifle in his store. +How did he know? Did you tell him, Dave?" + +"Yes," was the quiet reply. + +"Thank you, Dave. I'll ride right down and get it, and we'll go to the +woods this afternoon and shoot at a mark." + +"All right," agreed David heartily. + +The atmosphere was now quite cleared by the proposed expenditure of +ammunition, and M'ri experienced the sensation as of one beholding a +rainbow. + +David then turned his undivided attention to his own big package, +which contained twelve books, his name on the fly-leaf of each. +Robinson Crusoe, Swiss Family Robinson, Andersen's Fairy Tales, +Arabian Nights, Life of Lincoln, Black Beauty, Oliver Twist, A +Thousand Leagues under the Sea, The Pathfinder, Gulliver's Travels, +Uncle Tom's Cabin, and Young Ranchers comprised the selection. His +eyes gleamed over the enticing titles. + +"You shall have some book shelves for your room, David," promised +M'ri, "and you can start your library. Joe has made a good foundation +for one." + +His eyes longed to read at once, but there were still the two +packages, marked "Uncle Larimy" and "Miss Rhody," to deliver. + +"I can see that Uncle Larimy has a fishing rod, but what do you +suppose he has sent Rhody?" wondered M'ri. + +"A black silk dress. I told him she wanted one." + +"Take it right over there, David. She has waited almost a lifetime for +it." + +"Let me take Uncle Larimy's present," suggested Jud, "and then I'll +ask him to go shooting with us this afternoon." + +David amicably agreed, and went across fields to Miss Rhody's. + +"Land sakes!" she exclaimed, looking at the parcel. "M'ri ain't +a-goin' to hev another dress so soon, is she?" + +"No, Miss Rhody. Some one else is, though." + +"Who is it, David?" she asked curiously. + +"You see Joe Forbes sent some presents from Chicago, and this is what +he sent you." + +"A calico," was her divination, as she opened the package. + +"David Dunne!" she cried in shrill, piping tones, a spot of red on +each cheek. "Just look here!" and she stroked lovingly the lustrous +fold of shining silk. + +"And if here ain't linings, and thread, and sewing silk, and hooks and +eyes! Why, David Dunne, it can't be true! How did he know--David, you +blessed boy, you must have told him!" + +Impulsively she threw her arms about him and hugged him until he +ruefully admitted to himself that she had Jud "beat on the clutch." + +"And say, David, I'm a-goin' to wear this dress. I know folks as lets +their silks wear out a-hangin' up in closets. Don't get half as many +cracks when it hangs on yourself. I b'lieve as them Episcopals do in +lettin' yer light shine, and I never wuz one of them as b'lieved in +savin' yer best to be laid out in. Oh, Lord, David, I kin jest hear +myself a-rustlin' round in it!" + +"Maybe you'll get a husband now," suggested David gravely. + +"Mebby. I'd orter ketch somethin' with this. I never see sech silk. +It's much handsomer than the one Homer Bisbee's bride hed when she +come here from the city. It's orful the way she wastes. Would you +b'lieve it, David, the fust batch of pies she made, she never pricked, +and they all puffed up and bust. David, look here! What's in this +envylope? Forever and way back, ef it hain't a five-doller bill and a +letter. I hain't got my glasses handy. Read it." + +"Dear Miss Rhody," read the boy in his musical voice, "silk is none +too good for you, and I want you to wear this and wear it out. If you +don't, I'll never send you another. I thought you might want some more +trimmings, so I send you a five for same. Sincerely yours, Joe." + +"I don't need no trimmin's, excep' fifty cents for roochin's." + +"I'll tell you what to do, Miss Rhody. When you get your dress made +we'll go into town and you can get your picture taken in the dress and +give it to Joe when he comes back." + +"That's jest what I'll do. I never hed my likeness took. David, you've +got an orful quick mind. Is Joe coming home? I thought he callated to +go West." + +"Not until fall. He's going to spend the summer in his shanty boat on +the river." + +"I'll hurry up and get it made up afore he comes. Tell me what he sent +all your folks." + +"Joe's a generous boy, like his ma's folks," she continued, when he +had enumerated their gifts. "I am glad fer him that his pa and his +stepmother was so scrimpin'. David, would you b'lieve it, in that +great big house of the Forbeses thar wa'n't never a tidy on a chair, +and not a picter on the wall! It was mighty lucky for Joe that his +stepmother died fust, so he got all the money." + +David hastened home and sought his retreat in the orchard with one of +his books. M'ri, curious to know what his selection had been, scanned +the titles of the remaining eleven volumes. + +"Well, who would have thought of a boy's preferring fairy tales!" + +David read until dinner time, but spent the afternoon with Uncle +Larimy and Jud in the woods, where they received good instruction in +rifle practice. After supper he settled comfortably down with a book, +from which he was recalled by a plaintive little wail. + +"I haven't had a bit of fun to-day, Davey, and it's Saturday, and you +haven't played with me at all!" + +The book closed instantly. + +"Come on out doors, Janey," he invited. + +The sound of childish laughter fell pleasantly on M'ri's ears. She +recalled what Joe Forbes had said about her own children, and an +unbidden tear lingered on her lashes. This little space between +twilight and lamplight was M'ri's favorite hour. In every season but +winter it was spent on the west porch, where she could watch the moon +and the stars come out. Maybe, too, it was because from here she had +been wont to sit in days gone by and watch for Martin's coming. The +time and place were conducive to backward flights of memory, and +M'ri's pictures of the past were most beguiling, except that last one +when Martin Thorne, stern-faced, unrelenting, and vowing that he would +never see her again, had left her alone--to do her duty. + +When the children came in she joined them. Janey, flushed and +breathless from play, was curled up on the couch beside David. He put +his arm caressingly about her and began to relate one of Andersen's +fairy tales. M'ri gazed at them tenderly, and was weaving a future +little romance for her two young charges when Janey said petulantly: +"I don't like fairy stories, Davey. Tell a real one." + +M'ri noted the disappointment in the boy's eyes as he began the +narrating of a more realistic story. + +"David, where did you read that story?" she asked when he had +finished. + +"I made it up," he confessed. + +"Why, David, I didn't know you had such a talent. You must be an +author when you are a man." + +Late that night she saw a light shining from beneath the young +narrator's door. + +"I ought to send him to bed," she meditated, "but, poor lad, he has +had so few pleasures and, after all, childhood is the only time for +thorough enjoyment, so why should I put a feather in its path?" + +David read until after midnight, and went to bed with a book under his +pillow that he might begin his pastime again at dawn. + +After breakfast the next morning M'ri commanded the whole family to +sit down and write their thanks to Joe. David's willing pen flew in +pace with his thoughts as he told of Miss Rhody's delight and his own +revel in book land. Janey made most wretched work of her composition. +She sighed and struggled with thoughts and pencil, which she gnawed at +both ends. Finally she confessed that she couldn't think of anything +more to say. M'ri came to inspect her literary effort, which was +written in huge characters. + +"Dear Joe--" + +"Oh," commented M'ri doubtfully, "I don't know as you should address +him so familiarly." + +"I called him 'Joe' when we rode to school. He told me to," defended +Janey. + +"He's just like a boy," suggested David. + +So M'ri, silenced, read on: "I thank you for your beyewtifull present +which I cannot have." + +"Oh, Janey," expostulated M'ri, laughing; "that doesn't sound very +gracious." + +"Well, you said I couldn't have them till I was grown up." + +"I was wrong," admitted M'ri. "I didn't realize it then. We have to +see a thing written sometimes to know how it sounds." + +"May I wear them?" asked Janey exultingly. "May I put them on now?" + +"Yes," consented M'ri. + +Janey flew upstairs and came back wearing the adored turquoises, which +made her eyes most beautifully blue. + +"Now I can write," she affirmed, taking up her pencil with the +impetus of an incentive. Under the inspiration of the beads around her +neck, she wrote: + + "DEAR JOE: + + "I am wareing the beyewtifull beeds you sent me around my neck. + Aunt M'ri says they are terkwoyses. I never had such nice beeds + and I thank you. I wish I cood ride with you agen. Good bye. + From your frend, + + "JANEY." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +The next day being town day, David "hooked up" Old Hundred and drove +to the house. After the butter crock, egg pails, and kerosene and +gasoline cans had been piled in, Barnabas squeezed into the space +beside David. M'ri came out with a memorandum of supplies for them to +get in town. To David she handed a big bunch of spicy, pink June +roses. + +"What shall I do with them?" he asked wonderingly. + +"Give them to some one who looks as if he needed flowers," she +replied. + +"I will," declared the boy interestedly. "I will watch them all and +see how they look at the roses." + +At last M'ri had a kindred spirit in her household. Jud would have +sneered, and Janey would not have understood. To Barnabas all flowers +looked alike. + +It had come to be a custom for Barnabas to take David to town with him +at least once a week. The trip was necessarily a slow one, for from +almost every farmhouse he received a petition to "do a little errand +in town." As the good nature and accommodating tendency of Barnabas +were well known, they were accordingly imposed upon. He received +commissions of every character, from the purchase of a corn sheller to +the matching of a blue ribbon. He also stopped to pick up a child or +two en route to school or to give a lift to a weary pedestrian whom he +overtook. + +While Barnabas made his usual rounds of the groceries, meatmarket, +drug store, mill, feed store, general store, and a hotel where he was +well known, David was free to go where he liked. Usually he +accompanied Barnabas, but to-day he walked slowly up the principal +business street, watching for "one who needed flowers." Many glances +were bestowed upon the roses, some admiring, some careless, and +then--his heart almost stopped beating at the significance--Judge +Thorne came by. He, too, glanced at the roses. His gaze lingered, and +a look came into his eyes that stimulated David's passion for +romance. + +"He's remembering," he thought joyfully. + +He didn't hesitate even an instant. He stopped in front of the Judge +and extended the flowers. + +"Would you like these roses, Judge Thorne?" he asked courteously. + +Then for the first time the Judge's attention was diverted from the +flowers. + +"Your face is familiar, my lad, but--" + +"My name is David Dunne." + +"Yes, to be sure, but it must be four years or more since I last saw +you. How's your mother getting along?" + +The boy's face paled. + +"She died three weeks ago," he answered. + +"Oh, my lad," he exclaimed in shocked tones, "I didn't know! I only +returned last night from a long journey. But with whom are you +living?" + +"With Aunt M'ri and Uncle Barnabas." + +"Oh!" + +The impressive silence following this exclamation was broken by the +Judge. + +"Why do you offer me these flowers, David?" + +"Aunt M'ri picked them and told me to give them to some one who looked +as if they needed flowers." + +The Judge eyed him with the keen scrutiny of the trained lawyer, but +the boy's face was non-committal. + +"Come up into my office with me, David," commanded the Judge, turning +quickly into a near-by stairway. David followed up the stairs and into +a suite of well-appointed offices. + +A clerk looked up in surprise at the sight of the dignified judge +carrying a bouquet of old-fashioned roses and accompanied by a country +lad. + +"Good morning, Mathews. I am engaged, if any one comes." + +He preceded David into a room on whose outer door was the deterrent +word, "Private." + +While the Judge got a pitcher of water to hold the flowers David +crossed the room. On a table near the window was a rack of books +which he eagerly inspected. To his delight he saw a volume of +Andersen's Fairy Tales. Instantly the book was opened, and he was +devouring a story. + +"David," spoke the Judge from the other end of the room, "didn't these +roses grow on a bush by the west porch?" + +There was no answer. + +The Judge, remarking the boy's absorption, came to see what he was +reading. + +"Andersen's Fairy Tales! My favorite book. I didn't know that boys +liked fairy stories." + +David looked up quickly. + +"I didn't know that lawyers did, either." + +"Well, I do, David. They are my most delightful diversion." + +"Girls don't like fairy stories," mused David. "Anyway, Janey doesn't. +I have to tell true stories to please her." + +"Oh, you are a yarner, are you?" + +"Yes," admitted David modestly. "Aunt M'ri thinks I will be a writer +when I grow up, but I think I should like to be a lawyer." + +"David," asked the Judge abruptly, "did Miss Brumble tell you to give +me those roses?" + +With a wild flashing of eyes the Dunne temper awoke, and the boy's +under jaw shot forward. + +"No!" he answered fiercely. "She didn't know that I know--" + +He paused in mid-channel of such deep waters. + +"That you know what?" demanded the Judge in his cross-examining tone. + +David was doubtful of the consequences of his temerity, but he stood +his ground. + +"I can't tell you what, because I promised not to. Some one was just +thinking out loud, and I overheard." + +There was silence for a moment. + +"David, I remember your father telling me, years ago, that he had a +little son with a big imagination which his mother fed by telling +stories every night at bedtime." + +"Will you tell me," asked David earnestly, "about my father? What was +it he did? Uncle Barnabas told me something about his trouble last +Saturday." + +"How did he come to mention your father to you?" + +David reddened. + +"Jud twitted me about my mother taking in washing and about my father +being a convict, and I knocked him down. I told him I would kill him. +Uncle Barnabas pulled me off." + +"And then?" + +"Then he let us fight it out." + +"And you licked?" + +"Yes, sir," replied the boy, with proud modesty. + +"You naturally would, with that under jaw, but it's the animal in us +that makes us want to kill, and the man in us should rise above the +animal. I think I am the person to tell you about your father. He had +every reason to make good, but he was unfortunate in his choice of +associates and he acquired some of their habits. He had a violent +temper, and one night when he was--" + +"Drunk," supplied David gravely. + +"He became angry with one of his friends and tried to kill him. Your +father was given a comparatively short sentence, which he had almost +served when he died. You must guard against your temper and cultivate +patience and endurance--qualities your mother possessed." + +It suddenly and overwhelmingly flashed across David what need his +mother must have had for such traits, and he turned away to force back +his tears. The Judge saw the heaving of the slender, square, young +shoulders, and the gray eyes that were wont to look so coldly upon the +world and its people grew soft and surprisingly moist. + +"It's past now, David, and can't be helped, but you are going to aim +to be the kind of man your mother would want you to be. You must learn +to put up with Jud's tyranny because his father and his aunt are your +benefactors. I have been away the greater part of the time since your +father's death, or I should have kept track of you and your mother. +Every time you come to town I want you to come up here and report to +me. Will you?" + +"Thank you, sir. And I will bring you some more flowers." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +"Whar wuz you, Dave, all the time we wuz in town?" asked Barnabas, as +they drove homeward. + +"In Judge Thorne's office." + +"Judge Thorne's office! What fer?" + +"He asked me there, Uncle Barnabas. He was my father's lawyer once, +you know." + +"So he wuz. I hed fergot." + +"He warned me against my temper, as you did, and he told me--all about +my father." + +"I am glad he did, Dave. He wuz the one to tell you." + +"He says that every time I come to Lafferton I must come up and report +to him." + +"Wal, Dave, it does beat all how folks take to you. Thar wuz Joe +wanted you, and now Mart Thorne's interested. Mebby they could do +better by you than we could. Joe's rich, and the Jedge is well fixed +and almighty smart." + +"No," replied David stoutly. "I'd rather stay with you, Uncle +Barnabas. There's something you've got much more of than they have." + +"What's that, Dave?" asked Barnabas curiously. + +"Horse sense." + +Barnabas looked pleased. + +"Wal, Dave, I callate to do my best fer you, and thar's one thing I +want _you_ to git some horse sense about right off." + +"All right, Uncle Barnabas. What is it?" + +"Feedin' on them fairy stories all day. They hain't hullsome diet fer +a boy." + +"The Judge reads them," protested David. "He has that same book of +fairy stories that Joe gave me." + +"When you've done all the Jedge has, and git to whar you kin afford to +be idle, you kin read any stuff you want ter." + +"Can't I read them at all?" asked David in alarm. + +"Of course you kin. I meant, I didn't want you stickin' to 'em like a +pup to a root. You're goin' down to the fields to begin work with me +this arternoon, and you won't feel much like readin' to-night. I wuz +lookin' over them books of your'n last night. Thar's one you'd best +start in on right away, and give the fairies a rest." + +"Which one?" + +"Life of Lincoln. That'll show you what work will do." + +"I'll read it aloud to you, Uncle Barnabas." + +When they reached the bridge that spanned the river Old Hundred +dropped the little hurrying gait which he assumed in town, and settled +down to his normal, comfortable, country jog. + +"Uncle Barnabas," said David thoughtfully, "what is your religion?" + +Barnabas meditated. + +"Wal, Dave, I don't know as I hev what you might call religion +exackly. I b'lieve in payin' a hundred cents on the dollar, and +a-helpin' the man that's down, and--wal, I s'pose I come as nigh bein' +a Unitarian as anything." + +The distribution of the purchases now began. Sometimes the good +housewife, herself, came out to receive the parcels and to hear the +latest news from town. Oftener, the children of the household were +the messengers, for Barnabas' pockets were always well filled with +candy on town days. At one place Barnabas stopped at a barn by the +roadside and surreptitiously deposited a suspicious looking package. +When he was in front of the next farmhouse a man came out with anxious +mien. + +"All right, Fred!" hailed Barnabas with a knowing wink. "I was afeerd +you'd not be on the watchout. I left it in the manger." + +They did not reach the farm until the dinner hour, and the conversation +was maintained by M'ri and Barnabas on marketing matters. David spent +the afternoon in being initiated in field work. At supper, M'ri asked +him suddenly: + +"To whom did you give the flowers, David?" + +"I've made a story to it, Aunt M'ri, and I'm going to tell it to +Janey. Then you can hear." + +M'ri smiled, and questioned him no further. + +When the day was done and the "still hour" had come, Janey and David, +hand in hand, came around the house and sat down at her feet. It was +seldom that any one intruded at this hour, but she knew that David had +come to tell his story. + +"Begin, Davey," urged Janey impatiently. + +"One day, when a boy was going to town, his aunt gave him a big +bouquet of pink roses. She told him to give them to some one who +looked as if they needed flowers. So when the boy got to town he +walked up Main Street and looked at every one he met. He hoped to see +a little sick child or a tired woman who had no flowers of her own; +but every one seemed to be in a hurry, and very few stopped to look at +flowers or anything else. Those that did look turned away as if they +did not see them, and some seemed to be thinking, 'What beautiful +flowers!' and then forgot them. + +"At last he met a tall, stern man dressed in fine clothes. He looked +very proud, but as if he were tired of everything. When he saw the +flowers he didn't turn away, but kept his eyes on them as if they made +him sad and lonesome in thinking of good times that were over. So the +boy asked him if he would not like the flowers. The man looked +surprised and asked the boy what his name was. When he heard it, he +remembered that he had been attorney for the boy's father. He took him +up into an office marked private, and he gave the boy some good +advice, and talked to him about his mother, which made the boy feel +bad. But the man comforted him and told him that every time he came to +town he was to report to him." + +M'ri had sat motionless during the recital of this story. At its close +she did not speak. + +"That wasn't much of a story. Let's go play," suggested Janey, +relieving the tension. + +They were off like a flash. David heard his name faintly called. +M'ri's voice sounded far off, and as if there were tears in it, but he +lacked the courage to return. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Two important events calendared the next week. The school year ended +and Pennyroyal, the "hired help," who had been paying her annual visit +to her sister, came back to the farm. There are two kinds of +housekeepers, the "make-cleans" and the "keep-cleans." Pennyroyal was +a graduate of both classes. Her ruling passions in life were scrubbing +and "redding" up. On the day of her return, after making onslaught on +house and porches, she attacked the pump, and planned a sand-scouring +siege for the morrow on the barn. In appearance she was a true +exponent of soap and water, and always had the look of being freshly +laundered. + +At first Pennyroyal looked with ill favor on the addition that had +been made to the household in her absence, but when David submitted to +the shampooing of his tousled mass of hair, and offered no protest +when she scrubbed his neck, she became reconciled to his presence. + +On a "town day" David, carrying a huge bunch of pinks, paid his second +visit to the Judge. + +"Did she tell you," asked the tall man, gazing very hard at the +landscape without the open window, "to give these flowers to some one +who needed them?" + +There was a perilous little pause. Then there flashed from the boy to +the man a gaze of comprehension. + +"She picked them for you," was the response, simply spoken. + +The Judge carefully selected a blossom for his buttonhole, and then +proceeded to draw David out. Under the skillful, schooled questioning, +David grew communicative. + +"She's always on the west porch after supper." He added naïvely: +"That's the time when Uncle Barnabas smokes on the east porch, Jud +goes off with the boys, and I play with Janey in the lane." + +"Thank you, David," acknowledged the Judge gratefully. "You are quite +a bureau of information, and," in a consciously casual tone, "will you +take a note to your aunt? I think I will ride out to the farm +to-night." + +David's young heart fluttered, and he went back to the farm invested +with a proud feeling of having assisted the fates. The air was filled +with mystery and an undercurrent of excitement that day. After David +had delivered the auspicious note, a private conference behind closed +doors had been held between M'ri and Barnabas in the "company parlor." +David's shrewd young eyes noted the weakening of the lines of finality +about M'ri's mouth when she emerged from the interview. Throughout the +long afternoon she performed the usual tasks in nervous haste, the +color coming and going in her delicately contoured face. + +When she appeared at the supper table she was adorned in white, +brightened by touches of blue at belt and collar. David's young eyes +surveyed her appraisingly and approvingly, and later he effected a +thorough effacing of the family. He obtained from Barnabas permission +for Jud to go to town with the Gardner boys. His next diplomatic move +was to persuade Pennyroyal to go with himself and Janey to Uncle +Larimy's hermit home. When she wavered, he commented on the eclipse of +Uncle Larimy's windows the last time he saw them. That turned the tide +of Pennyroyal's resistance. Equipped with soft linen, a cake of strong +soap, and a bottle of ammonia, she strode down the lane, accompanied +by the children. + +The walk proved a trying ordeal for Pennyroyal. She started out at her +accustomed brisk gait, but David loitered and sauntered, Janey of +course setting her pace by his. Pennyroyal, feeling it incumbent upon +herself to keep watch of her young companions, retraced her steps so +often that she covered the distance several times. + +At Uncle Larimy's she found such a fertile field for her line of work +that David was quite ready to return when she pronounced her labors +finished. She was really tired, and quite willing to walk home slowly +in the moonlight. + +It was very quiet. Here and there a bird, startled from its hiding +place, sought refuge in the higher branches. A pensive quail piped an +answer to the trilling call from the meadows. A tree toad uttered his +lonely, guttural exclamation. The air, freshening with a coming covey +of clouds, swayed the tops of the trees with mournful sound. + +David, full of dreams, let his fancy have full play, and he made a +little story of his own about the meeting of the lovers. He pictured +the Judge riding down the dust-white road as the sunset shadows grew +long. He knew the exact spot--the last bit of woodland--from where +Martin, across level-lying fields, could obtain his first glimpse of +the old farmhouse and porch. His moving-picture conceit next placed +M'ri, dressed in white, with touches of blue, on the west porch. He +had decided that in the Long Ago Days she had been wont to wear blue, +which he imagined to be the Judge's favorite color. Then he caused the +unimpressionable Judge to tie his horse to the hitching post at the +side of the road and walk between the hedges of sweet peas that +bordered the path. Their pink and white sweetness was the trumpet +call sounding over the grave of the love of his youth. (David had read +such a passage in a book at Miss Rhody's and thought it very fine and +applicable.) His active fancy took Martin Thorne around the house to +the west porch. The white figure arose, and in the purple-misted +twilight he saw the touches of blue, and his heart lighted. + +"Marie!" + +The old name, the name he had given her in his love-making days, came +to his lips. (David couldn't make M'ri fit in with the settings of his +story, so he re-christened her.) She came forward with outstretched +hand and a gentle manner, but at the look in his eyes as he uttered +the old name, with the caressing accent on the first syllable, she +understood. A deep sunrise color flooded her face and neck. + +"Martin!" she whispered as she came to him. + +David threw back his head and shut his eyes in ecstatic bliss. He was +rudely roused from his romantic weaving by the sound of Barnabas' +chuckle as they came to the east porch. + +"You must a washed every one of Larimy's winders!" + +"Yes," replied Janey, "and she mopped his floors, washed and +clean-papered the shelves, and wanted to scrub the old gray horse." + +"Pennyroyal," exclaimed Barnabas gravely, "I wonder you ain't +waterlogged!" + +"Pennyroyal'd rather be clean than be President," averred David. + +"Where's M'ri?" demanded Pennyroyal, ignoring these thrusts. + +"On the west porch, entertaining company," remarked Barnabas. + +"Who?" + +Pennyroyal never used a superfluous word. Joe Forbes said she talked +like telegrams. + +Barnabas removed his pipe from his mouth, and paused to give his words +greater dramatic force. + +"Mart Thorne!" + +The effect was satisfactory. + +Pennyroyal stood as if petrified for a moment. Than she expressed her +feelings. + +"Hallelujah!" + +Her tone made the exclamation as impressive as a benediction. + +M'ri visited the bedside of each of her charges that night. Jud and +Janey were in the land of dreams, but David was awake, expecting her +coming. There was a new tenderness in her good-night kiss. + +"Aunt M'ri," asked the boy, looking up with his deep, searching eyes +and a suspicion of a smile about his lips, "did you and Judge Thorne +talk over my education? He said that he was going to speak to you +about it." + +Her eyes sparkled. + +"David, the Judge is coming to dinner Sunday. We will talk it over +with you then." + +"Aunt M'ri," a little note of wistfulness chasing the bantering look +from his eyes, "you aren't going to leave us now?" + +"Not for a year, David," she said, a soft flush coming to her face. + +"He's waited seven," thought David, "so one more won't make so much +difference. Anyway, we need a year to get used to it." + +After all, David was only a boy. His flights of romantic fancy +vanished in remembrance of the blissful certainty that there would be +ice cream for dinner on Sunday next and on many Sundays thereafter. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +The little trickle of uneven days was broken one morning by a message +which was brought by the "hired man from Randall's." + +"We've got visitors from the city tew our house," he announced. "They +want you to send Janey over tew play with their little gal." + +Befitting the honor of the occasion, Janey was attired in her +blue-sprigged muslin and allowed to wear the turquoises. David drove +her to Maplewood, the pretentious home of the Randalls, intending to +call for her later. When they came to the entrance of the grounds at +the end of a long avenue of maples a very tiny girl, immaculate in +white, with hair of gold and eyes darkly blue, came out from among the +trees. She regarded David with deep, grave eyes as he stepped from the +wagon to open the gate. + +"You've come to play with me," she stated in a tone of assurance. + +"I've brought Janey to play with you," he rejoined, indicating his +little companion. "If you'll get in the wagon, I'll drive you up to +the house." + +She held up her slender little arms to him, and David felt as if he +were lifting a doll. + +"My name in Carey Winthrop. What is yours?" she demanded of Janey as +they all rode up the shaded, graveled road. + +"Janey Brumble," replied the visitor, gaining ease from the +ingenuousness of the little girl and from the knowledge that she was +older than her hostess. + +"And he's your brother?" indicating David. + +"He's my adopted brother," said Janey; "he's David Dunne." + +"I wish I had a 'dopted brother," sighed the little girl, eying David +wistfully. + +David drove up to the side entrance of the large, white-columned, +porticoed house, on the spacious veranda of which sat a fair-haired +young woman with luminous eyes and smiling mouth. The smile deepened +as she saw the curiously disfigured horse ambling up to the stone +step. + +"Whoa, Old Hundred!" commanded David, whereupon the smile became a +rippling laugh. David got out, lifted the little girl to the ground +very carefully, and gave a helping hand to the nimble, independent +Janey. + +"Mother," cried Carey delightedly, "this is Janey and her 'dopted +brother David." + +David touched his cap gravely in acknowledgment of the introduction. +He had never heard his name pronounced as this little girl spoke it, +with the soft "a." It sounded very sweet to him. + +"I'll drive back for you before sundown, Janey," said David, preparing +to climb into the wagon. + +"No," objected Carey, regarding him with apprehension, "I want you to +stay and play with me. Tell him to stay, mother." + +There was a regal carriage to the little head and an imperious +note--the note of an only child--in her voice. + +"Maybe David has other things to do than to play with little girls," +said her mother, "but, David, if you can stay, I wish you would." + +"I should like to stay," replied David earnestly, "but they expect me +back, and Old Hundred is needed in the field." + +"Luke can drive your horse back, and we will see that you and Janey +ride home." + +So Carey, with a hand to each of her new playmates, led them across +the driveway to the rolling stretch of shaded lawn. The lady watched +David as he submitted to be driven as a horse by the little girls and +then constituted himself driver to his little team of ponies as he +called them. Later, when they raced to the meadow, she saw him hold +Janey back that Carey might win. Presently the lady was joined by her +husband. + +"Where is Carey?" he asked. + +"She is having great sport with a pretty little girl and a guardian +angel of a boy. Here they come!" + +They were trooping across the lawn, the little girls adorned with +blossom wreaths which David had woven for them. + +"May we go down to the woods--the big woods?" asked Carey. + +"It's too far for you to walk, dear," remonstrated her mother. + +"David says he'll draw me in my little cart." + +"Who is it that was afraid to go into the big woods, and thought it +was a forest filled with wild beasts and scary things?" demanded Mr. +Winthrop. + +The earnest eyes fixed on his were not at all abashed. + +"With him, with David," she said simply, "I would have no afraidments." + +"Afraidments?" he repeated perplexedly. "I am not sure I understand." + +"Don't tease, Arthur; it's a very good word," interposed Mrs. Winthrop +quickly. "It seems to have a different meaning from fear." + +"Come up here, David," bade Mr. Winthrop, "and let me see what there +is in you to inspire one with no 'afraidments'." + +The boy came up on the steps, and did not falter under the keen but +good-humored gaze. + +"Do you like to play with little girls, David?" + +"I like to play with these little girls," admitted David. + +"And what do you like to do besides that?" + +"I like to shoot." + +"Oh, a hunter?" + +"No; I like to shoot at a mark." + +"And what else?" + +"I like to read, and fish, and swim, and--" + +"Eat ice cream!" finished Janey roguishly, showing her dimples. + +The man caught her up in his arms. + +"You are a darling, and I wish my little girl had such rosy cheeks. +David, can you show me where there is good fishing?" + +"Uncle Larimy can show you the best places. He knows where the bass +live, and how to coax them to bite." + +"And will you take me to this wonderful person to-morrow?" + +"Yes, sir." + +Carey now came out of the hall with her cart, and David drew her +across the lawn, Janey dancing by his side. Down through the meadows +wound a wheel-tracked road leading to a patch of dense woods which, to +a little girl with a big imagination, could easily become a wild +forest infested with all sorts of nameless terrors--terrors that make +one draw the bedclothes snugly over the head at night. She gave a +little frightened cry as they came into the cool, olive depths. + +"I am afraid, David. Take me!" + +He lifted her to his shoulder, and her soft cheek nestled against his +face. + +"Now you are not afraid," he said persuasively. + +"No; but I would be if you put me down." + +They went farther into the oak depths, until they came to a fallen +tree where they rested. Janey, investigating the forestry, finally +discovered a bush with slender red twigs. + +"Oh," she cried, "now David will show you what beautiful things he can +make for us." + +"I have no pins," demurred David. + +"I have," triumphantly producing a paper of the needful from her +pocket. "I always carry them now." + +David broke up the long twigs into short pieces, from which he +skillfully fashioned little chairs and tables, discoursing the while +to Carey on the beauty and safety of the woods. Finally Carey +acquired courage to hunt for wild flowers, though her hand remained +close in David's clasp. + +When they returned to the house Carey gave a glowing account of the +expedition. + +"Sit down on the steps and rest, children," proposed Mrs. Winthrop, +"while Lucy prepares a little picnic dinner for you." + +"What will we do now, David?" appealed Carey, when they were seated on +the porch. + +"You mustn't do anything but sit still," admonished her mother. +"You've done more now than you are used to doing in one day." + +"Davey will tell us a story," suggested Janey. + +"Yes, please, David," urged Carey, coming to him and resting her eyes +on his inquiringly, while her little hand confidently sought his knee. +Instinctively and naturally his fingers closed upon it. + +Embarrassed as he was at having a strange audience, he could not +resist the child's appeal. + +"She'll like the kind that you don't," he said musingly to Janey, "the +kind about fairies and princes." + +"Yes," rejoined Carey. + +So he fashioned a tale, partly from recollections of Andersen but +mostly from his own fancy. As his imagination kindled, he forgot where +he was. Inspired by the spellbound interest of the dainty little girl +with the worshiping eyes, he achieved his masterpiece. + +"Upon my word," exclaimed Mr. Winthrop, "you are a veritable +Scheherazade! You didn't make up that story yourself?" + +"Only part of it," admitted David modestly. + +When he and Janey started for home David politely delivered M'ri's +message of invitation for Carey to come to the farm on the morrow to +play. + +"It is going to be lovely here," said the little girl happily. "And we +are going to come every summer." + +Janey kissed her impulsively. "Good-by, Carey." + +"Good-by, Janey. Good-by, David." + +"Good-by," he returned cheerily. Looking back, he saw her lips +trembling. His gaze turned in perplexity to Mrs. Winthrop, whose eyes +were dancing. "She expects you to bid her good-by the way Janey did," +she explained. + +"Oh!" said David, reddening, as two baby lips of scarlet were lifted +naturally and expectantly to his. + +As they drove away, the light feet of the horse making but little +sound on the smooth road, Mrs. Winthrop's clear treble was wafted +after them. + +"One can scarcely believe that his father was a convict and his mother +a washerwoman." + +A lump came into the boy's throat. Janey was very quiet on the way +home. When they were alone she said to him, with troubled eyes: + +"Davey, is Carey going to be your sweetheart?" + +His laugh was reassuring. + +"Why, Janey, I am just twice her age." + +"She is like a little doll, isn't she, David?" + +"No; like a little princess." + +The next morning Little Teacher came to show them her present from +Joe. + +"I am sure he chose a camera so I could take your pictures to send to +him," she declared. + +"Miss Rhody wants her picture taken in the black silk Joe gave her. If +you will take it, she won't have to spend the money he sent her," said +the thoughtful David. + +Little Teacher was very enthusiastic over this proposition, and +offered to accompany him at once to secure the picture. Miss Rhody was +greatly excited over the event. Ever since the dress had been finished +she had been a devotee at the shrine of two hooks in her closet from +which was suspended the long-coveted garment, waiting for an occasion +that would warrant its débût. She nervously dressed for the +"likeness," for which she assumed her primmest pose. A week later +David sent Joe a picture of Miss Rhody standing stiff and straight on +her back porch and arrayed, with all the glory of the lilies of the +field, in her new silk. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +When the hot, close-cropped fields took on their first suggestion +of autumn and a fuller note was heard in the requiem of the +songbirds, when the twilights were of purple and the morning skies +delicately mackereled in gray, David entered the little, red, country +schoolhouse. M'ri's tutelage and his sedulous application to Jud's +schoolbooks saved him from the ignominy of being classified with the +younger children. + +When he sat down to the ink-stained, pen-scratched desk that was to be +his own, when he made compact piles of his new books and placed in the +little groove in front of the inkwell his pen, pencils, and ruler, he +turned to Little Teacher such a glowing face of ecstasy that she was +quite inspired, and her sympathies and energies were at once enlisted +in the cause of David's education. + +It was the beginning of a new world for him. He studied with a +concentration that made him oblivious to all that occurred about him, +and he had to be reminded of calls to recitations by an individual +summons. He fairly overwhelmed Little Teacher by his voracity for +learning and a perseverance that vanquished all obstacles. He soon +outstripped his class, and finally his young instructress was forced +to bring forth her own textbooks to satisfy his avidity. He devoured +them all speedily, and she then applied to the Judge for fuel from his +library to feed her young furnace. + +"He takes to learning as naturally as bees to blossoms," she +reported. + +"He must ease off," warned Barnabas. "Young hickory needs plenty of +room for full growth." + +"No," disagreed the Judge, "young hickory is as strong as wrought +iron. He's going to have a clear, keen mind to argue law cases." + +"I think not," said M'ri. "You forget another quality of young +hickory. No other wood burns with such brilliancy. David is going to +be an author." + +"I am afraid," wrote Joe, "that Dave won't be a first-class ranchman. +He must be plum locoed with dreams." + +This prognostication reached David's ears. + +"Without dreams," he argued to Barnabas, "one would be like the +pigs." + +"Wal, now, Dave, mebby pigs dream. They sartain sleep a hull lot." + +David laughed appreciatively. + +"Dave," pursued Barnabas, "they're all figgerin' on your futur, and +they're a-figgerin' wrong. Joe thinks you'll take to ranchin'. You +may--fer a spell. M'ri thinks you may write books. You may do even +that--fer a spell. The Jedge counts on yer takin' to the law like a +duck does to water. You may, but law larnin', cow punchin', and story +writin' 'll jest be steppin' stuns to what I know you air goin' ter +be, and what I know is in you ter be." + +"What in the world is that, Uncle Barnabas?" asked David in surprise. +"A farmer?" + +"Farmer, nuthin'!" scoffed Barnabas. "Yer hain't much on farmin', +Dave, though I will say yer furrers is allers straight, like +everythin' else you do. Yer straight yerself. No! young hickory can +bend without breakin', and thar's jest one thing I want fer you to +be." + +"What?" persisted the boy. + +Barnabas whispered something. + +The blood of the young country boy went like wine through his veins; +his heart leaped with a big and mighty purpose. + +"Now, remember, Dave," cautioned Barnabas, "what all work and no play +done to Jack. You git yer lessons perfect, and recite them, and read a +leetle of an evenin'; the rest of the time I want yer to get out and +cerkilate." + +November with its call to quiet woods came on, and David was eager to +"cerkilate." He became animated with the spirit of sport. Red-letter +Saturdays were spent with Uncle Larimy, and the far-away echo of the +hunter's bullet and the scudding through the woods of startled game +became new, sweet music to his ears. Rifle in hand, with dog shuffling +at his heels or plunging ahead in search of game, the world was his. +Life was very full and happy, save for the one inevitable sprig of +bitter--Jud! The big bully of a boy had learned that David was his +equal physically and his superior mentally, but the fear of David and +of David's good standing kept him from venturing out in the open; so +from cover he sought by all the arts known to craftiness to harass the +younger boy, whose patience this test tried most sorely. + +One day when Little Teacher had given him a verbose definition of the +word "pestiferous," David looked at her comprehendingly. "Like Jud," +he murmured. + +Many a time his young arms ached to give Jud another thrashing, but +his mother's parting injunction restrained him. + +"If only," he sighed, "Jud belonged to some one else!" + +He vainly sought to find the hair line that divided his sense of +gratitude and his protection of self-respect. + +Winter followed, and the farm work droned. It was a comfortable, cozy +time, with breakfast served in the kitchen on a table spread with a +gay, red cloth. Pennyroyal baked griddle-sized cakes, delivering them +one at a time direct from the stove to the consumer. The early hour +of lamplight made long evenings, which were beguiled by lesson books +and story-books, by an occasional skating carnival on the river, a +coasting party at Long Hill, or a "surprise" on some hospitable +neighbor. + +One morning he came into school with face and eyes aglow with +something more than the mere delight of living. It meant mischief, +pure and simple, but Little Teacher was not always discerning. She +gave him a welcoming smile of sheer sympathy with his mood. She didn't +smile, later, when the schoolroom was distracted by the sound of +raucous laughter, feminine screams, and a fluttering of skirts as the +girls scrambled to standing posture in their chairs. Astonished, she +looked for the cause. The cause came her way, and the pupils had a +fresh example of the miracles wrought by a mouse, for Little Teacher, +usually the personification of dignity and repose, screamed lustily +and scudded chairward with as much rapidity as that displayed by the +scurrying mouse as it chased for the corner and disappeared through a +knothole. + +As soon as the noiseful glee had subsided, Little Teacher sought to +recover her prided self-possession. In a voice resonant with +sternness, she commanded silence, gazing wrathfully by chance at +little Tim Wiggins. + +"'T was David done it," he said in deprecating self-defense, imagining +himself accused. + +"David Dunne," demanded Little Teacher, "did you bring that mouse to +school?" + +"He brung it and let it out on purpose," informed Tim eagerly. + +Little Teacher never encouraged talebearing, but she was so +discomfited by the exposure of the ruling weakness peculiar to her +sex that she decided to discipline her favorite pupil upon his +acknowledgment of guilt. + +"You may bring your books and sit on the platform," she ordered +indignantly. + +David did not in the least mind his assignment to so prominent a +position, but he did mind Little Teacher's attitude toward him +throughout the day. He sought to propitiate her by coming to her +assistance in many little tasks, but she persistently ignored his +overtures. He then ventured to seek enlightenment regarding his +studies, but she coldly informed him he could remain after school to +ask his questions. + +David began to feel troubled, and looked out of the window for +an inspiration. He found one in the form of big, brawny, Jim +Block--"Teacher's Jim," as the school children all called him. + +"There goes Teacher's Jim," sang David, _soto voce_. + +The shot told. For the second time that day Little Teacher showed +outward and visible signs of an inward disturbance. With a blush she +turned quickly to the window and watched with expressive eyes the +stalwart figure striding over the rough-frozen road. + +In an instant, however, she had recalled herself to earth, and David's +dancing eyes renewed her hostility toward him. Toward the end of the +day she began to feel somewhat appeased by his docility and evident +repentance. Her manner had perceptibly changed by the time the closing +exercise began. This was the writing of words on the blackboard for +the pupils to use in sentences. She pointed to the first word, +"income." + +"Who can make a sentence and use that word correctly?" she asked. + +"Do call on Tim," whispered David. "He so loves to be the first to +tell anything." + +She smiled her appreciation of Tim's prominent characteristic, and +looked at the youngster, who was wringing his hand in an agony of +eagerness. She gave him the floor, and he jumped to his feet in +triumph, yelling: + +"In come a mouse!" + +This was too much for David's composure, and he gave way to an +infectious fit of laughter, in which the pupils joined. + +Little Teacher found the allusion personal and uncomfortable. She at +once assumed her former distant mien, demanding David's presence after +school closed. + +"You have no gratitude, David," she stated emphatically. + +The boy winced, and his eyes darkened with concern, as he remembered +his mother's parting injunction. + +Little Teacher softened slightly. + +"You are sorry, aren't you, David?" she asked gently. + +He looked at her meditatively. + +"No, Teacher," he answered quietly. + +She flushed angrily. + +"David Dunne, you may go home, and you needn't come back to school +again until you tell me you are sorry." + +David took his books and walked serenely from the room. He went home +by the way of Jim Block's farm. + +"Hullo, Dave!" called Big Jim, who was in the barnyard. + +"Hello, Jim! I came to tell you some good news. You said if you were +only sure there was something Teacher was afraid of, you wouldn't feel +so scared of her." + +"Well," prompted Jim eagerly. + +"I thought I'd find out for you, so I took a mouse to school and let +it loose." + +"Gee!" + +David then related the occurrences of the morning, not omitting the +look in Little Teacher's eyes when she beheld Jim from the window. + +"I'll hook up this very night and go to see her," confided Jim. + +"Be sure you do, Jim. If you find your courage slipping, just remember +that you owe it to me, because she won't let me come back to school +unless she knows why I wasn't sorry." + +"I give you my word, Dave," said Jim earnestly. + +The next morning Little Teacher stopped at the Brumble farm. + +"I came this way to walk to school with you and Janey," she said +sweetly and significantly to David. + +When they reached the road, and Janey had gone back to get her sled, +Little Teacher looked up and caught the amused twinkle in David's eye. +A wave of conscious red overspread her cheeks. + +"Must I say I am sorry now?" he asked. + +"David Dunne, there are things you understand which you never learned +from books." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Late spring brought preparations for M'ri's wedding. Rhody Crabbe's +needle and fingers flew in rapturous speed, and there was likewise +engaged a seamstress from Lafferton. Rhody had begged for the making +of the wedding gown, and when it was finished David went to fetch it +home. + +"It's almost done, David, and you tell M'ri the last stitch was a +loveknot. It's most a year sence you wuz here afore, a-waitin' fer her +blue waist tew be finished. Remember, don't you, David?" + +He remembered, and as she stitched he sat silently reviewing that +year, the comforts received, the pleasures pursued, and, best of all, +the many things he had learned, but the recollection that a year ago +his mother had been living brought a rush of sad memories and blotted +out happier thoughts. + +"I wish yer ma could hev seen Mart and M'ri merried. She was orful +disapp'inted when they broke off." + +There was no reply. Rhody's sharp little eyes, in upward glance, spied +the trickling tear; she looked quickly away and stitched in furious +haste. + +"But, my!" she continued, as if there had been no pause, "how glad she +would be to know 't was you as fetched it around." + +David looked up, diverted and inquiring. + +"Yes; I learnt it from M'ri. She told me about the flowers you give +him. I thought it was jest sweet in you, David. You done good work +thar." + +"Miss Rhody," said David earnestly, "maybe some day I can get you a +sweetheart." + +"'T ain't no use, David," she sighed. "No one wants a plain critter +like me." + +"Lots of them don't marry for looks," argued David sagely. "Besides, +you look fine in your black silk, and your hair crimped. Joe thinks +your picture is great. He's got it on a shelf over his fireplace at +the ranch." + +"Most likely some cowboy'll see it and lose his heart," laughed Miss +Rhody, "but thar, the weddin' dress is all done. You go home and quit +thinkin' about gittin' me a man. I ain't ha'nted by the thought of +endin' single." + +Great preparations for the wedding progressed at the Brumble farm. For +a week Pennyroyal whipped up eggs and sugar, and David ransacked the +woods for evergreens and berries with which to decorate the big barn, +where the dance after the wedding was to take place. + +The old farmhouse was filled to overflowing on the night of the +wedding. After the ceremony, Miss Rhody, resplendent in the black silk +and waving hair loosed from the crimping pins that had confined it for +two days and nights, came up to David. + +"My, David, I've got the funniest all over feelin' from seein' Mart +and M'ri merried! I was orful afeerd I'd cry." + +"Sit down, Miss Rhody," said David, gallantly bringing her a chair. + +"Didn't M'ri look perfeckly beyewtiful?" she continued, after +accomplishing the pirouette that prevented creases. "And Mart, he +looked that proud, and solemn too. It made me think of that gal when +she spoke 'Curfew shall not ring tewnight' at the schoolhouse. Every +one looks fine. I hain't seen Barnabas so fussed up sence Libby Sukes' +funyral. It makes him look real spry. And whoever got Larimer Sasser +to perk up and put on a starched shirt!" + +"I think," confided David, "that Penny got after him. She had him in a +corner when he came, and she tied his necktie so tight I was afraid +she would choke him." + +"Look at old Miss Pankey, David. She, as rich as they make 'em, and +a-wearin' that old silk! It looks as ef it hed bin hung up fer you and +Jud to shoot at. Ain't she a-glarin' and a-sniffin' at me, though? +Say, David, you write Joe that if M'ri did look the purtiest of any +one that my dress cost more'n any one's here, and showed it, too. I +hope thar'll be a lot of occasions to wear it to this summer. M'ri is +a-goin' to give a reception when she gits back from her tower, and +that'll be one thing to wear it at. Ain't Jud got a mean look? He's as +crooked as a dog's hind leg. But, say, David, that's a fine suit +you're a-wearin'. You look handsome. Thar ain't a stingy hair on +Barnabas' head. He's doin' jest as good by you as he is by Jud. Don't +little Janey look like an angel in white, and them lovely beads Joe +give her? I can't think of nothin' else but that little Eva you read +me about. I shouldn't wonder a bit, David, if I come to yer and +Janey's weddin' yet!" she said, as Janey came dancing up to them. + +A slow flush mounted to his forehead, but Janey laughed merrily. + +"I've promised Joe I'd wait for him," she said roguishly. + +"She's only foolin' and so wuz he," quickly spoke Miss Rhody, seeing +the hurt look in David's eyes. "Barnabas," she asked, stopping him as +he passed, "you air a-goin' to miss M'ri turrible. You could never +manige if it wa'n't fer Penny. Won't she hev the time of her life +cleanin' up after this weddin'? She'll enjoy it more'n she did gettin' +ready fer it." + +"I hope Penny won't go to gittin' merried--not till Janey's growed +up." + +"David's a great help to you, too, Barnabas." + +"Dave! I don't know how I ever got along afore he came. He's so +willin' and so honest. He's as good as gold. Only fault he's got is a +quick temper. He's doin' purty fair with it, though. If only Jud--" + +He stopped, with a sigh, and Rhody hastened to change the subject. + +"You're a-lookin' spry to-night, Barnabas. I hain't seen you look so +spruce in a long time." + +"You look mighty tasty yerself, Rhody." + +This interchange of compliments was interrupted by the announcement of +supper. + +"I never set down to sech a repast," thought Miss Rhody. "I'm glad I +didn't feed much to-day. I don't know whether to take chickin twice, +or to try all them meltin', flaky lookin' pies. And jest see them +layer cakes!" + +After supper adjournment was made to the barn, where the fiddles were +already swinging madly. Every one caught the spirit, and even Miss +Rhody finally succumbed to Barnabas' insistence. Pennyroyal captured +Uncle Larimy, and when Janey whirled away in the arms of a +schoolmate, David, who had never learned to dance, stood isolated. He +felt lonely and depressed, and recalled the expression in which Joe +Forbes had explained life after he had acquired a stepmother. "I was +always on the edge of the fireside," he had said. + +"Dave," expostulated Uncle Barnabas, as soon as he could get his +breath after the last dance, "you'd better eddicate yer heels as well +as yer head. It's unnateral fer a colt and a boy not to kick up their +heels. You don't never want to be a looker-on at nuthin' excep' from +ch'ice. You'd orter be a stand-in on everything that's a-goin' instead +of a stand-by. The stand-bys never git nowhar." + + + + +PART TWO + +CHAPTER I + + +David Dunne at eighteen was graduated from the high school in +Lafferton after five colorless years in which study and farm work +alternated. Throughout this period he had continued to incur the +rancor of Jud, whose youthful scrapes had gradually developed into +brawls and carousals. The Judge periodically extricated him from +serious entanglements, and Barnabas continued optimistic in his +expectations of a time when Jud should "settle." On one occasion Jud +sneeringly accused David of "working the old man for a share in the +farm," and taunted him with the fact that he was big enough and strong +enough to hustle for himself without living on charity. David started +on a tramp through the woods to face the old issue and decide his +fate. He had then one more year before he could finish school and +carry out a long-cherished dream of college. + +He was at a loss to know just where to turn at the present time for a +home where he could work for his board and attend school. The Judge +and M'ri had gone abroad; Joe was on his ranch; the farmers needed no +additional help. + +He had been walking swiftly in unison with his thoughts, and when he +came out of the woods into the open he was only a mile downstream from +town. Upon the river bank stood Uncle Larimy, skillfully swirling his +line. + +"Wanter try yer luck, Dave?" + +"I have no luck just now, Uncle Larimy," replied the boy sadly. + +Uncle Larimy shot him a quick, sidelong glance. + +"Then move on, Dave, and chase arter it. Thar's allers luck somewhar. +Jest like fishin'. You can't set in one spot and wait for luck tew +come to you like old Zeke Foss does. You must keep a-castin'." + +"I don't know where to cast, Uncle Larimy." + +Uncle Larimy pondered. He knew that Jud was home, and he divined +David's trend of thought. + +"You can't stick to a plank allers, Dave, ef you wanter amount tew +anything. Strike out bold, and swim without any life presarvers. You +might jest as well be a sleepy old cat in a corner as to go +smoothsailin' through life." + +"I feel that I have got to strike out, and at once, Uncle Larimy, but +I don't just know where to strike." + +"Wal, Dave, it's what we've all got to find out fer ourselves. It's a +leap in the dark like, and ef you don't land nowhere, take another +leap, and keep a-goin' somewhar." + +David wended his way homeward, pondering over Uncle Larimy's +philosophy. When he went with Barnabas to do the milking that night he +broached the subject of leaving the farm. + +"I know how Jud feels about my being here, Uncle Barnabas." + +"What did he say to you?" asked the old man anxiously. + +"Nothing. I overheard a part of your conversation. He is right. And if +I stay here, he will run away to sea. He told the fellows in Lafferton +he would." + +"You are going to stay, Dave." + +"You won't like to think you drove your son away. If he gets into +trouble, both you and I will feel we are to blame." + +"Dave, I see why the Jedge hez got it all cut out fer you to be a +lawyer. You've got the argyin' habit strong. But you can't argue me +into what I see is wrong. This is the place fer you to be, and Jud 'll +hev to come outen his spell." + +"Then let me go away until he does. You must give him every chance." + +"Where'll you go?" asked Barnabas curiously. + +"I don't know, yet," said the boy, "but I'll think out a plan +to-night." + +It was Jud, after all, who cut the Gordian knot, and made one of his +welcome disappearances, which lasted until David was ready to start in +college. His savings, that he had accumulated by field work in the +summers and a very successful poultry business for six years, netted +him four hundred dollars. + +"One hundred dollars for each year," he thought exultantly. "That +will be ample with the work I shall find to do." + +Then he made known to his friends his long-cherished scheme of working +his way through college. The Judge laughed. + +"Your four hundred dollars, David, will barely get you through the +first year. After that, I shall gladly pay your expenses, for as soon +as you are admitted to the bar you are to come into my office, of +course." + +David demurred. + +"I shall work my way through college," he said firmly. + +He next told Barnabas of his intention and the Judge's offer which he +had declined. + +"I'm glad you refused, Dave. You'll only be in his office till you're +ripe fer what I kin make you. I've larnt that the law is a good +foundation as a sure steppin' stone tew it, so you kin hev a taste of +it. But the Jedge ain't a-goin' to pay yer expenses." + +"I don't mean that he shall," replied David. "I want to pay my own +way." + +"I'm a-goin' to send you tew college and send you right. No starvin' +and garret plan fer you. I've let Joe and the Jedge do fer you as much +as they're a-goin' to, but you're mine from now on. It's what I'd do +fer my own son if he cared fer books, and you're as near to me ez ef +you were my son." + +"It's too much, Uncle Barnabas." + +"And, David," he continued, unheeding the interruption, "I hope you'll +really be my son some day." + +A look of such exquisite happiness came into the young eyes that +Barnabas put out his hand silently. In the firm hand-clasp they both +understood. + +"I am not going to let you help me through college, though, Uncle +Barnabas. It has always been my dream to earn my own education. When +you pay for anything yourself, it seems so much more your own than +when it's a gift." + +"Let him, Barnabas," again counseled Uncle Larimy. "Folks must feed +diff'rent. Thar's the sweet-fed which must allers hev sugar, but +salt's the savor for Dave. He's the kind that flourishes best in the +shade." + +Janey wrote to Joe of David's plan, and there promptly came a check +for one thousand dollars, which David as promptly returned. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +A few days before the time set for his departure David set out on a +round of farewell visits to the country folk. It was one of those +cold, cheerless days that intervene between the first haze of autumn +and the golden glow of October. He had never before realized how +lonely the shiver of wind through the poplars could sound. Two +innovations had been made that day in the country. The rural delivery +carrier, in his little house on wheels, had made his first delivery, +and a track for the new electric-car line was laid through the sheep +meadow. This inroad of progress upon the sanctity of their seclusion +seemed sacrilegious to David, who longed to have lived in the olden +time of log houses, with their picturesque open fires and candle +lights. Following some vague inward call, he went out of his way to +ride past the tiny house he had once called home, and which in all his +ramblings he had steadfastly avoided. He had heard that the place had +passed into the hands of a widow with an only son, and that they had +purchased surrounding land for cultivation. He had been glad to hear +this, and had liked to fancy the son caring for his mother as he +himself would have cared for his mother had she lived. + +As he neared the little nutshell of a house his heart beat fast at the +sight of a woman pinning clothes to the line. Her fingers, stiff and +swollen, moved slowly. The same instinct that had guided him down this +road made him dismount and tie his horse. The old woman came slowly +down the little path to meet him. + +"I am David Dunne," he said gently, "and I used to live here. I wanted +to come to see my old home once more." + +He thought that the dim eyes gazing into his were the saddest he had +ever beheld. + +"Yes," she replied, with the slow, German accent, "I know of you. Come +in." + +He followed her into the little sitting room, which was as barren of +furnishings as it had been in the olden days. + +"Sit down," she invited. + +He took a chair opposite a cheap picture of a youth in uniform. A flag +of coarse material was pinned above this portrait, and underneath was +a roughly carved bracket on which was a glass filled with goldenrod. + +"You lived here with your mother," she said musingly, "and she was +taken. I lived here with my son, and--he was taken." + +"Oh!" said David. "I did not know--was he--" + +His eyes sought the picture on the wall. + +"Yes," she replied, answering his unspoken question, as she lifted her +eyes to her little shrine, "he enlisted and went to the Philippines. +He died there of fever more than a year ago." + +David was silent. His brown, boyish hand shaded his eyes. It had been +his fault that he had not heard of this old woman and the loss of her +son. He had shrunk from all knowledge and mention of this little home +and its inmates. The country folk had recognized and respected his +reticence, which to people near the soil seems natural. This had been +the only issue in his life that he had dodged, and he was bitterly +repenting his negligence. In memory of his mother, he should have +helped the lonely old woman. + +"You were left a poor, helpless boy," she continued, "and I am left a +poor, helpless old woman. The very young and the very old meet in +their helplessness, yet there is hope for the one--nothing for the +other." + +"Yes, memories," he suggested softly, "and the pride you feel in his +having died as he did." + +"There is that," she acknowledged with a sigh, "and if only I could +live on here in this little place where we have been so happy! But I +must leave it." + +"Why?" asked David quickly. + +"After my Carl died, things began to happen. When once they do that, +there is no stopping. The bank at the Corners failed, and I lost my +savings. The turkeys wandered away, the cow died, and now there's the +mortgage. It's due to-morrow, and then--the man that holds it will +wait no longer. So it is the poorhouse, which I have always +dreaded." + +David's head lifted, and his eyes shone radiantly as he looked into +the tired, hopeless eyes. + +"Your mortgage will be paid to-morrow, and--Don't you draw a pension +for your son?" + +She looked at him in a dazed way. + +"No, there is no pension--I--" + +"Judge Thorne will get you one," he said optimistically, as he rose, +ready for action, "and how much is the mortgage?" + +"Three hundred dollars," she said despairingly. + +"Almost as much as the place is worth. Who holds the mortgage?" + +"Deacon Prickley." + +"You see," said David, trying to speak casually, "I have three hundred +dollars lying idle for which I have no use. I'll ride to town now and +have the Judge see that the place is clear to you, and he will get you +a pension, twelve dollars a month." + +The worn, seamed face lifted to his was transfigured by its look of +beatitude. + +"You mustn't," she implored. "I didn't know about the pension. That +will keep me, and I can find another little place somewhere. But the +money you offer--no! I have heard how you have been saving to go +through school." + +He smiled. + +"Uncle Barnabas and the Judge are anxious to pay my expenses at +college, and--you _must_ let me. I would like to think, don't you see, +that you are living here in my old home. It will seem to me as if I +were doing it for _my_ mother--as I would want some boy to do for her +if she were left--and it's my country's service he died in. I would +rather buy this little place for you, and know that you are living +here, than to buy anything else in the world." + +The old face was quite beautiful now. + +"Then I will let you," she said tremulously. "You see, I am a +hard-working woman and quite strong, but folks won't believe that, +because I am old; so they won't hire me to do their work, and they say +I should go to the poorhouse. But to old folks there's nothing like +having your own things and your own ways. They get to be a part of +you. I was thinking when you rode up that it would kill me not to see +the frost on the old poplar, and not to cover up my geraniums on the +chill nights." + +Something stirred in David's heart like pain. He stooped and kissed +her gently. Then he rode away, rejoicing that he had worked to this +end. Four hours later he rode back to the little home. + +"The Judge has paid over the money to Old Skinflint Prickley," he said +blithely, "and the place is all yours. The deacon had compounded the +interest, which is against the laws of the state, so here are a few +dollars to help tide you over until the Judge gets the pension for +you." + +"David," she said solemnly, "an old woman's prayers may help you, and +some day, when you are a great man, you will do great deeds, but none +of them will be as great as that which you have done to-day." + +David rode home with the echo of this benediction in his ears. He had +asked the Judge to keep the transaction secret, but of course the +Judge told Barnabas, who in turn informed Uncle Larimy. + +"I told the boy when his ma died," said Uncle Larimy, "that things go +'skew sometimes, but that the sun would shine. The sun will allers be +a-shinin' fer him when he does such deeds as this." + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +The fare to his college town, his books, and his tuition so depleted +David's capital of one hundred dollars that he hastened to deposit the +balance for an emergency. Then he set about to earn his "keep," as he +had done in the country, but there were many students bent on a +similar quest and he soon found that the demand for labor was exceeded +by the supply. + +Before the end of the first week he was able to write home that he had +found a nice, quiet lodging in exchange for the care of a furnace in +winter and the trimming of a lawn in other seasons, and that he had +secured a position as waiter to pay for his meals; also that there was +miscellaneous employment to pay for his washing and incidentals. + +He didn't go into details and explain that the "nice quiet lodging" +was a third-floor rear whose gables gave David's six feet of length +but little leeway. It was quiet because the third floor was not +heated, and its occupants therefore stayed away as much as possible. +His services as waiter were required only at dinner time, in exchange +for which he received that meal. His breakfast and luncheon he +procured as best he could; sometimes he dispensed with them entirely. +Crackers, milk, and fruit, as the cheapest articles of diet, appeared +oftenest on his ménu. Sometimes he went fishing and surreptitiously +smuggled the cream of the catch up to his little abode, for Mrs. +Tupps' "rules to roomers," as affixed to the walls, were explicit: "No +cooking or washing allowed in rooms." But Mrs. Tupps, like her fires, +was nearly always out, for she was a member of the Woman's Relief +Corps, Ladies' Aid, Ladies' Guild, Woman's League, Suffragette +Society, Pioneer Society, and Eastern Star. At the meetings of these +various societies she was constant in attendance, so in her absence +her roomers "made hay," as David termed it, cooking their provender +and illicitly performing laundry work in the bathtub. Still, there +must always be "on guard" duty, for Mrs. Tupps was a stealthy stalker. +One saw her not, but now and then there was a faint rustle on the +stair. David's eyes and ears, trained to keenness, were patient and +vigilant, so he was generally chosen as sentinel, and he acquired new +caution, adroitness, and a quietness of movement. + +There had been three or four close calls. Once, she had knocked at +his door as he was in the act of boiling eggs over the gas jet. In +the twinkling of an eye the saucepan was thrust under the bed, and +David, sweet and serene of expression, opened the door to the +inquisitive-eyed Tupps. + +"I came to borrow a pen," she said shamelessly, her eyes penetrating +the cracks and crevices of the little room. + +David politely regretted that he used an indelible pencil and +possessed no pens. + +In the act of removing all records and remains of feasts, David became +an adept. Neat, unsuspicious looking parcels were made and conveyed, +after retiring hours, to a near-by vacant lot, where once had been +visible an excavation for a cellar, but this had been filled to street +level with tin cans, paper bags, butter bowls, cracker cases, egg +shells, and pie plates from the House of Tupps. + +His miscellaneous employment, mentioned in his letter, was any sort of +work he could find to do. + +David became popular with professors by reason of his record in +classes and the application and concentration he brought to his +studies. His prowess in all sports, his fairness, and the spirit of +_camaraderie_ he always maintained with his associates, made him a +general favorite. He wore fairly good clothes, was well groomed, and +always in good spirits, so of his privations and poverty only one or +two of those closest to him were even suspicious. He was entirely +reticent on the subject, though open and free in all other discourse, +and permitted no encroachment on personal matters. One or two chance +offenders intuitively perceived a slight but impassable barrier. + +"Dunne has grown a little gaunt-eyed since he first came here," said +one of his chosen friends to a classmate one evening. "He's outdoors +enough to counteract overstudy. But do you suppose he has enough to +eat? So many of these fellows live on next to nothing." + +"I shouldn't be surprised if he were on rations. You know he always +makes some excuse when we invite him to a spread. He's too proud to +accept favors and not reciprocate, I believe." + +David overheard these remarks, and a very long walk was required to +restore his serenity. During this walk he planned to get some extra +work that would insure him compensation requisite to provide a modest +spread so that he might allay their suspicions. Upon his return to his +lodgings he found an enormous box which had come by express from +Lafferton. It contained Pennyroyal's best culinary efforts; also four +dozen eggs, a two-pound pat of butter, coffee, and a can of cream. + +He propitiated Mrs. Tupps by the proffer of a dozen of the eggs and +told her of his desire to entertain his friends. It would be +impossible to do this in his room, for when he lay in bed he could +touch every piece of furniture with but little effort. + +David had become his landlady's confidant and refuge in time of +trouble, and she was willing to allow him the privilege of the dining +room. + +"I am going away to-night for a couple of days, but I would rather you +wouldn't mention it to the others. You may have the use of the dining +room and the dishes." + +David's friends were surprised to receive an off-hand invitation from +him to "drop in for a little country spread." They were still more +surprised when they beheld the long table with its sumptuous array of +edibles,--raised biscuits, golden butter, cold chicken, pickles, +jelly, sugared doughnuts, pork cake, gold and silver cake, crullers, +mince pie, apple pie, cottage cheese, cider, and coffee. + +"It looks like a county fair exhibit, Dunne," said a city-bred chap. + +Six healthy young appetites did justice to this repast and insured +David's acceptance of five invitations to dine. It took Mrs. Tupps and +David fully a week to consume the remnants of this collation. The eggs +he bestowed upon an anemic-faced lodger who had been prescribed a milk +and egg diet, but with eggs at fifty cents a dozen he had not filled +his prescription. + +[Illustration: "_David's friends were surprised to receive an off-hand +invitation +from him to 'drop in for a little country spread'_"] + +At the end of the college year David went back to the farm, and a snug +sense of comfort and a home-longing filled him at the sight of the old +farmhouse, its lawn stretching into gardens, its gardens into +orchards, orchards into meadows, and meadows into woodlands. Through +the long, hot summer he tilled the fields, and invested the proceeds +in clothes and books for the ensuing year. + +There followed three similar years of a hand-to-mouth existence, the +privations of which he endured in silence. There were little +occasional oases, such as boxes from Pennyroyal, or extra revenue now +and then from tutoring, but there were many, many days when his +healthy young appetite clamored in vain for appeasement. On such days +came the temptation to borrow from Barnabas the money to finish his +course in comfort, but the young conqueror never yielded to this +enticement. He grew stronger and sturdier in spirit after each +conflict, but lost something from his young buoyancy and elasticity +which he could never regain. His struggles added a touch of grimness +to his old sense of humor, but when he was admitted to the bar he was +a man in courage, strength, and endurance. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +It seemed to David, when he was at the farm again, that in his absence +time had stood still, except with Janey. She was a slender slip of a +girl, gentle voiced and soft hearted. Her eyes were infinitely blue +and lovely, and there was a glad little ring in her voice when she +greeted "Davey." + +M'ri gave a cry of surprised pleasure when she saw her former charge. +He was tall, lithe, supple, and hard-muscled. His face was not very +expressive in repose, but showed a quiet strength when lighted by the +keenness of his serious, brown eyes and the sweetness of his smile. +His color was a deep-sea tan. + +"It seems so good to be alive, Aunt M'ri. I thought I was weaned away +from farm life until I bit into one of those snow apples from the old +tree by the south corner of the orchard. Then I knew I was home." + +Pennyroyal shed her first visible tear. + +"I am glad you are home again, David," she sniffed. "You were always +such a clean boy." + +"I missed you more'n any one did, David," acknowledged Miss Rhody. "Ef +I hed been a Catholic I should a felt as ef the confessional hed been +took from me. I ain't hed no one to talk secret like to excep' when +Joe comes onct a year. He ain't been fer a couple of years, either, +but he sent me anuther black dress the other day--silk, like the last +one. To think of little Joe Forbes a-growin' up and keepin' me in silk +dresses!" + +"I'll buy your next one for you," declared David emphatically. + +The next day after his return from college David started his legal +labors under the watchful eye of the Judge. He made a leap-frog +progress in acquiring an accurate knowledge of legal lore. He worked +and waited patiently for the Judge's recognition of his readiness to +try his first case, and at last the eventful time came. + +"No; there isn't the slightest prospect of his winning it," the Judge +told his wife that night. + +"The prosecution has strong evidence, and we have nothing--barely a +witness of any account." + +"Then the poor man will be convicted and David will gain no glory," +lamented M'ri. "It means so much to a young lawyer to win his first +case." + +The Judge smiled. + +"Neither of them needs any sympathy. Miggs ought to have been sent +over the road long ago. David's got to have experience before he gains +glory." + +"How did you come to take such a case?" asked M'ri, for the Judge was +quite exclusive in his acceptance of clients. + +"It was David's doings," said the Judge, with a frown that had a smile +lurking behind it. + +"Why did he wish you to take the case?" persisted M'ri. + +"As near as I can make out," replied the Judge, with a slight +softening of his grim features, "it was because Miggs' wife takes in +washing when Miggs is celebrating." + +M'ri walked quickly to the window, murmuring some unintelligible sound +of endearment. + +On the day of the summing-up at the trial the court room was crowded. +There were the habitual court hangers on, David's country friends _en +masse_, a large filling in at the back of the representatives of the +highways and byways, associates of the popular wrongdoer, and the +legal lore of the town, with the good-humored patronage usually +bestowed by the profession on the newcomer to their ranks. + +As the Judge had said, his client was conceded to be slated for +conviction. If he had made the argument himself he would have made it +in his usual cool, well-poised manner. But David, although he knew +Miggs to be a veteran of the toughs, felt sure of his innocence in +this case, and he was determined to battle for him, not for the sake +of justice alone, but for the sake of the tired-looking washerwoman he +had seen bending over the tubs. This was an occupation she had to +resort to only in her husband's times of indulgence, for he was a wage +earner in his days of soberness. + +When David arose to speak it seemed to the people assembled that the +coil of evidence, as reviewed by the prosecutor in his argument, was +drawn too closely for any power to extricate the victim. + +At the first words of the young lawyer, uttered in a voice of winning +mellowness, the public forgot the facts in the case. Swayed by the +charm of David's personality, a current of new-born sympathy for the +prisoner ran through the court room. + +David came up close to the jury and, as he addressed them, he seemed +to be oblivious of the presence of any one else in the room. It was as +though he were telling them, his friends, something he alone knew, and +that he was sure of their belief in his statements. + +"For all the world," thought M'ri, listening, "as he used to tell +stories when he was a boy. He'd fairly make you believe they were +true." + +To be sure the jury were all his friends; they had known him when +he was little "barefoot Dave Dunne." Still, they were captivated by +this new oratory, warm, vivid, and inspiring, delivered to the +accompaniment of dulcet and seductive tones that transported them +into an enchanted world. Their senses were stirred in the same way +they would be if a flag were unfurled. + +"Sounds kind o' like orgin music," whispered Miss Rhody. + +Yet underneath the eloquence was a logical simplicity, a keen sifting +of facts, the exposure of flaws in the circumstantial evidence. There +was a force back of what he said like the force back of the +projectile. About the form of the hardened sinner, Miggs, David +drew a circle of innocence that no one ventured to cross. Simply, +convincingly, and concisely he summed up, with a forceful appeal to +their intelligence, their honor, and their justice. + +The reply by the assistant to the prosecutor was perfunctory and +ineffective. The charge of the judge was neutral. The jury left the +room, and were out eight and one-quarter minutes. As they filed in, +the foreman sent a triumphant telepathic message to David before he +quietly drawled out: + +"Not guilty, yer Honor." + +The first movement was from Mrs. Miggs. And she came straight to +David, not to the jury. + +"David," said the Judge, who had cleared his throat desperately and +wiped his glasses carefully, at the look in the eyes of the young +lawyer when they had rested on the defendant's wife, "hereafter our +office will be the refuge for all the riffraff in the country." + +This was his only comment, but the Judge did not hesitate to turn over +any case to him thereafter. + +When David had added a few more victories to his first one, Jud made +one of his periodical diversions by an offense against the law which +was far more serious in nature than his previous misdeeds had been. +M'ri came out to the farm to discuss the matter. + +"Barnabas, Martin thinks you had better let the law take its course +this time. He says it's the only procedure left untried to reform Jud. +He is sure he can get a light sentence for him--two years." + +"M'ri," said Barnabas, in a voice vibrating with reproach, "do you +want Jud to go to prison?" + +M'ri paled. + +"I want to do what is best for him, Barnabas. Martin thinks it will be +a salutary lesson." + +"I wonder, M'ri," said Barnabas slowly, "if the Judge had a son of his +own, he would try to reform him by putting him behind bars." + +"Oh, Barnabas!" protested M'ri, with a burst of tears. + +"He's still my boy, if he is wild, M'ri." + +"But, Barnabas, Martin's patience is exhausted. He has got him out of +trouble so many times--and, oh, Barnabas, he says he won't under any +circumstances take the case! He is ashamed to face the court and jury +with such a palpably guilty client. I have pleaded with him, but I +can't influence him. You know how set he can be!" + +"Wal, there are other lawyers," said Barnabas grimly. + +[Illustration: "_He kept his word. Jud was cleared_"] + +David had remained silent and constrained during this conversation, +the lines of his young face setting like steel. Suddenly he left the +house and paced up and down in the orchard, to wrestle once more with +the old problem of his boyhood days. It was different now. Then it had +been a question of how much he must stand from Jud for the sake of the +benefits bestowed by the offender's father. Now it meant a sacrifice +of principle. He had made his boyish boast that he would defend only +those who were wrongfully accused. To take this case would be to bring +his wagon down from the star. Then suddenly he found himself disposed +to arraign himself for selfishly clinging to his ideals. + +He went back into the house, where M'ri was still tearfully arguing +and protesting. He came up to Barnabas. + +"I will clear Jud, if you will trust the case to me, Uncle Barnabas." + +Barnabas grasped his hand. + +"Bless you, Dave, my boy," he said. "I wanted you to, but Jud has +been--wal, I didn't like to ask you." + +"David," said M'ri, when they were alone, "Martin said you wouldn't +take a case where you were convinced of the guilt of the client." + +"I shall take this case," was David's quiet reply. + +"Really, David, Martin thinks it will be best for Jud--" + +"I don't want to do what is best for Jud, Aunt M'ri, I want to do what +is best for Uncle Barnabas. It's the first chance I ever had to do +anything for him." + +When Judge Thorne found that David was determined to defend Jud, he +gave him some advice: + +"You must get counter evidence, if you can, David. If you have any +lingering idea that you can appeal to the jury on account of Barnabas +being Jud's father, root out that idea. There's no chance of rural +juries tempering justice with mercy. With them it's an eye for an eye, +every time." + +David had an infinitely harder task in clearing Jud than he had had in +defending Miggs. The evidence was clear, the witnesses sure and wary, +and the prisoner universally detested save by his evil-minded +companions, but these obstacles brought out in full force all David's +indomitable will and alertness. He tipped up and entrapped the +prosecution's witnesses with lightning dexterity. One of them chanced +to be a man whom David had befriended, and he aided him by replying +shrewdly in Jud's favor. + +But it was Jud himself who proved to be David's trump card. He was +keen, crafty, and quick to seize his lawyer's most subtle suggestions. +His memory was accurate, and with David's steering he avoided all +traps set for him on cross examination. When David stood before the +jury for the most stubborn fight he had yet made, his mother's last +piece of advice--all she had to bequeath to him--permeated every +effort. He put into his argument all the compelling force within him. +There were no ornate sentences this time, but he concentrated his +powers of logic and persuasiveness upon his task. The jury was out two +hours, during which time Barnabas and Jud sat side by side, pale and +anxious, but upheld by David's confident assurance of victory. + +He kept his word. Jud was cleared. + +"You're a smart lawyer, Dave," commented Uncle Larimy. + +David looked at him whimsically. + +"I had a smart client, Uncle Larimy." + +"That's what you did, Dave, but he's gettin' too dernd smart. You'd a +done some of us a favor if you'd let him git sent up." + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +"Dave," said Barnabas on one memorable day, "the Jedge hez hed his +innings trying to make you a lawyer. Now it's my turn." + +"All right, Uncle Barnabas, I am ready." + +"Hain't you hed enough of law, Dave? You've given it a good trial, and +showed what you could do. It'll be a big help to you to know the law, +and it'll allers be sumthin' to fall back on when things get slack, +but ain't you pinin' fer somethin' a leetle spryer?" + +"Yes, I am," was the frank admission. "I like the excitement attending +a case, and the fight to win, but it's drudgery between times--like +soldiering in time of peace." + +"Wal, Dave, I've got a job fer you wuth hevin', and one that starts +toward what you air a-goin' to be." + +David's breath came quickly. + +"What is it?" + +"Thar's no reason at all why you can't go to legislatur' and make new +laws instead of settin' in the Jedge's office and larnin' to dodge old +ones. I'm a-runnin' politics in these parts, and I'm a-goin' to git +you nominated. After that, you'll go the hull gamut--so 't will be up +the ladder and over the wall fer you, Dave." + +So, David, to the astonishment of the Judge, put his foot on the +first round of the political ladder as candidate for the legislature. +At the same time Janey returned from the school in the East, where +she had been "finished," and David's heart beat an inspiring +tattoo every time he looked at her, but he was nominated by a +speech-loving, speech-demanding district, and he had so many +occasions for oratory that only snatches of her companionship were +possible throughout the summer. + +Joe came on to join in the excitement attending the campaign. It had +been some time since his last visit, and he scarcely recognized David +when he met him at the Lafferton station. + +"Well, Dave," said the ranchman, "if you are as strong and sure as you +look, you won't need my help in the campaign." + +"I always need you, Joe. But you haven't changed in the least, unless +you look more serious than ever, perhaps." + +"It's the outdoor life does that. Take a field-bred lad, he always +shies a bit at people." + +"Your horse does, too, I notice. He arrived safely a week ago, and I +put him up at the livery here in Lafferton. I was afraid he would +demoralize all the horses at the farm." + +"Good! I'll ride out this evening. I have a little business to attend +to here in town, and I want to see the Judge and his wife, of +course." + +When the western sky line gleamed in crimson glory Joe came riding at +a long lope up the lane. He sat his spirited horse easily, one leg +thrown over the horn of his saddle. As he neared the house, a +thrashing machine started up. The desert-bred horse shied, and +performed maneuvers terrifying to Janey, but Joe in the saddle was +ever a part of the horse. Quietly and impassively he guided the +frightened animal until the machine was passed. Then he slid from the +horse and came up to Janey and David, who were awaiting his coming. + +"This can never be little Janey!" he exclaimed, holding her hand +reverently. + +"I haven't changed as much as Davey has," she replied, dimpling. + +"Oh, yes, you have! You are a woman. David is still a boy, in spite of +his six feet." + +"You don't know about Davey!" she said breathlessly. "He has won all +kinds of law cases, and he is going to the legislature." + +Joe laughed. + +"I repeat, he is still a boy." + +On the morrow David started forth on a round of speech making, +canvassing the entire district. He returned at the wane of October's +golden glow for the round-up, as Joe termed the finish of the +campaign. The flaunting crimson of the maples, the more sedate tinge +of the oaks, the vivid yellow of the birches, the squashes piled up on +the farmhouse porches, and the fields filled with pyramidal stacks of +cornstalks brought a vague sense of loneliness as he rode out from +Lafferton to the farm. He left his horse at the barn and came up to +the house through the old orchard as the long, slanting rays of +sunlight were making afternoon shadows of all who crossed their path. + +He found Janey sitting beneath their favorite tree. An open book lay +beside her. She was gazing abstractedly into space, with a new look in +her star-like eyes. + +David's big, untouched heart gave a quick leap. He took up the book +and with an exultant little laugh discovered that it was a book of +poems! Janey, who could never abide fairy stories, reading poetry! +Surprised and embarrassed, after a shy greeting she hurried toward the +house, her cheeks flaming. Something very beautiful and breath-taking +came into David's thoughts at that moment. + +He was roused from his beatific state by the approach of Barnabas, so +he was obliged to concentrate his attention on giving a résumé of his +tour. Then the Judge telephoned for him to come to his office, and he +was unable to finish his business there until dusk. The night was +clear and frost touched. He left his horse in the lane and walked up +to the house. As he came on to the porch he looked in through the +window. The bright fire on the hearth, the soft glow of the shaded +lamp, and the fair-haired girl seated by a table, needlework in hand, +gave him a hunger for a hearth of his own. + +Suddenly the scene shifted. Joe came in from the next room. Janey rose +to her feet, a look of love lighting her face as she went to the arms +outstretched to receive her. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +David went back to Lafferton. The little maid informed him that the +Judge and his wife were out for the evening; but there was always a +room in readiness for him, so he sat alone by the window, staring into +the lighted street, trying to comprehend that Janey was not for him. + +It was late the next morning when he came downstairs. + +"I am glad, David, you decided to stay here last night," said M'ri, +whose eyes were full of a yearning solicitude. + +She sat down at the table with him while he drank his coffee. + +"David." + +She spoke in a desperate tone, that caused him to glance keenly at +her. + +"If you have anything to tell," he said quietly, "it's a good plan to +tell it at once." + +"Since you have been away Joe and Janey have been together +constantly. It seems to have been a case of mutual love. David, they +are engaged." + +"So," he said gravely, "I am to lose my little sister. Joe is a man in +a thousand." + +"But, David, I had set my heart on Janey's marrying you, from that +very first day when you went to school together and you carried her +books. Do you remember?" + +"Yes," he replied whimsically, "but even then Joe met us and took her +away from me. But I must drive out and congratulate them." + +M'ri gazed after him in perplexity as he left the house. + +"I wonder," she mused, "if I ever quite understood David!" + +Miss Rhody called to David as he was passing her house and bade him +come in. + +"You've hed a hard trip," she said, with a keen glance into his tired, +boyish eyes. + +"Very hard, Miss Rhody." + +"You have heard about Janey--and Joe?" + +"Aunt M'ri just told me," he said, wincing ever so slightly. + +"They was all sot on your being her sweetheart, except me and her--and +Joe." + +"Why not you, Miss Rhody?" + +"You ain't never been in love with Janey--not the way you'll love some +day. When I was sick last fall Almiry Green come over to read to me +and she brung a book of poems. I never keered much for po'try, and +Almiry, she didn't nuther, but she hed jest ketched Widower Pankey, +and so she thought it was proper to be readin' po'try. She read +somethin' about fust love bein' a primrose, and a-fallin' to make way +fer the real rose, and I thought to myself: 'That's David. His feelin' +fer Janey is jest a primrose.'" + +David's eyes were inscrutable, but she continued: + +"I knowed she hed allers fancied Joe sence she was a little tot and he +give her them beads. When Joe's name was spoke she was allers +shy-like. She wuz never shy-like with you." + +"No," admitted David wearily, "but I must go on to the farm now, Miss +Rhody. I will come in again soon." + +When he came into the sitting room of the farmhouse, where he found +Joe and Janey, the rare smile that comes with the sweetness of +renunciation was on his lips. After he had congratulated them, he +asked for Barnabas. + +"He just started for the woods," said Joe. "I think he is on his way +to Uncle Larimy's." + +David hastened to overtake him, and soon caught sight of the bent +figure walking slowly over the stubbled field. + +"Uncle Barnabas!" he called. + +Barnabas turned and waited. + +"Did you see Janey and Joe?" he asked, looking keenly into the +shadowed eyes. + +"Yes; Aunt M'ri had told me." + +"When?" + +"This morning. Joe's a man after your own heart, Uncle Barnabas." + +"It's you I wanted fer her," said the old man bluntly. "I never dreamt +of its bein' enybody else. It's an orful disapp'intment to me, Dave. +I'd ruther see you her man than to see you what I told you long ago I +meant fer you to be." + +"And I, too, Uncle Barnabas," said David, with slow earnestness, +"would rather be your son than to be governor of this state!" + +"You did care, then, David," said the old man sadly. "It don't seem to +be much of a surprise to you." + +"Uncle Barnabas, I will tell you something which I want no one else to +know. I came back last evening and drove out here. I looked in the +window, and saw her as she sat at work. It came into my heart to go in +then and ask her to marry me, instead of waiting until after election +as I had planned. Then Joe came in and she--went to him. I returned to +Lafferton. It was daylight before I had it out with myself." + +"Dave! I thought I knew you better than any of them. It's been a purty +hard test, but you won't let it spile your life?" + +"No, I won't, Uncle Barnabas. I owe it to you, if not to myself, to go +straight ahead as you have mapped it out for me." + +"Bless you, Dave! You're the right stuff!" + + + + +PART THREE + +CHAPTER I + + +In January David took his seat in the House of Representatives, of +which he was the youngest member. It was not intended by that august +body that he should take any rôle but the one tacitly conceded to him +of making silver-tongued oratory on the days when the public would +crowd the galleries to hear an all-important measure, the "Griggs +Bill," discussed. The committee were to give him the facts and the +general line of argument, and he was to dress it up in his fantastic +way. They were entirely willing that he should have the applause from +the public as well as the credit of the victory; all they cared for +was the certainty of the passage of the bill. + +David's cool, lawyer-like mind saw through all these manipulations and +machinations even if he were only a political tenderfoot. As other +minor measures came up he voted for or against them as his better +judgment dictated, but all his leisure hours were devoted to the +investigation and study of the one big bill which was to be rushed +through at the end of the session. He pored over the status of the +law, found out the policies and opinions of other states on the +subject, and listened attentively to all arguments, but he never took +part in the discussions and he was very guarded in giving an +expression of his views, an attitude which pleased the promoters of +the bill until it began to occur to them that his caution came from +penetration into their designs and, perhaps, from intent to thwart +them. + +"He has ketched on," mournfully stated an old-timer from the third +district. "I'm allers mistrustful of these young critters. They are +sure to balk on the home stretch." + +"Well, one good thing," grinned a city member, "it breaks their +record, and they don't get another entry." + +David had made a few short speeches on some of the bills, and those +who had read in the papers of the wonderful powers of oratory of the +young member from the eleventh flocked to hear him. They were +disappointed. His speeches were brief, forceful, and logical, but +entirely barren of rhetorical effect. The promoters of the Griggs Bill +began to wonder, but concluded he was saving all his figures of speech +to sugarcoat their obnoxious measure. It occurred to them, too, that +if by chance he should oppose them his bare-handed way of dealing with +subterfuges and his clear presentation of facts would work harm. They +counted, however, on being able to convince him that his future status +in the life political depended upon his coöperation with them in +pushing this bill through. + +Finally he was approached, and then the bomb was thrown. He quietly +and emphatically told them he should fight the bill, single handed if +necessary. Recriminations, arguments, threats, and inducements--all +were of no avail. + +"Let him hang himself if he wants to," growled one of the committee. +"He hasn't influence enough to knock us out. We've got the +majority." + +The measure was one that would radically affect the future interests +of the state, and was being watched and studied by the people, who had +not, as yet, however, realized its significance or its far-reaching +power. The intent of the promoters of the Griggs Bill was to leave the +people unenlightened until it should have become a law. + +"Dunne won't do us any harm," argued the father of the bill on the +eventful day. "He's been saving all his skyrockets for this +celebration. He'll get lots of applause from the women folks," looking +up at the solidly packed gallery, "and his speech will be copied in +all the papers, and that'll be the reward he's looking for." + +When David arose to speak against the Griggs Bill he didn't look the +youngster he had been pictured. His tall, lithe, compelling figure was +drawn to its full height. His eyes darkened to intensity with the +gravity of the task before him; the stern lines of his mouth bespoke +a master of the situation and compelled confidence in his knowledge +and ability. + +The speech delivered in his masterful voice was not so much in +opposition to the bill as it was an exposure of it. He bared it +ruthlessly and thoroughly, but he didn't use his youthful hypnotic +periods of persuasive eloquence that had been wont to sway juries and +to creep into campaign speeches. His wits had been sharpened in the +last few months, and his keen-edged thrusts, hurled rapier-like, +brought a wince to even the most hardened of veteran members. It was a +complete enlightenment in plain words to a plain people--a concise and +convincing protest. + +When he finished there was a tempest of arguments from the other side, +but there was not a point he had not foreseen, and as attack only +brought out the iniquities of the measure, they let the bill come to +ballot. The measure was defeated, and for days the papers were +headlined with David Dunne's name, and accounts of how the veterans +had been routed by the "tenderfoot from the eleventh." + +After his dip into political excitement legal duties became a little +irksome to David, especially after the wedding of Joe and Janey had +taken place. In the fall occurred the death of the United States +senator from the western district of the state. A special session of +the legislature was to be convened for the purpose of pushing through +an important measure, and the election of a successor to fill the +vacancy would take place at the same time. The usual "certain rich +man," anxious for a career, aspired, and, as he was backed by the +state machine as well as by the covert influence of two or three of +the congressmen, his election seemed assured. + +There was an opposing candidate, the choice of the people, however, +who was gathering strength daily. + +"We've got to head off this man Dunne some way," said the manager of +the "certain rich man." "He can't beat us, but with him out of the way +it would be easy sailing, and all opposition would come over to us on +the second ballot." + +"Isn't there a way to win him over?" asked a congressman who was +present. + +The introducer of the memorable measure of the last session shook his +head negatively. + +"He can't be persuaded, threatened, or bought." + +"Then let's get him out of the way." + +"Kidnap him?" + +"Decoy him gently from your path. The consul of a little seaport in +South America has resigned, and at a word from me to Senator Hollis, +who would pass it on to the President, this appointment could be given +to your young bucker, and he'd be out of your way for at least three +years." + +"That would be too good to be true, but he wouldn't bite at such bait. +His aspirations are all in a state line. He's got the usual career +mapped out,--state senator, secretary of state, governor--possibly +President." + +"You can never tell," replied the congressman sagaciously. "A +presidential appointment, the alluring word 'consul,' a foreign +residence, all sound very enticing and important to a young country +man. The Dunne type likes to be the big frog in the puddle. This +stripling you are all so afraid of hasn't cut all his wisdom teeth +yet. It's worth a try. I'll tackle him." + +The morning after this conversation, as David walked down to the +Judge's office he felt very lonely--a part of no plan. It was a mood +that made him ripe for the purpose of the congressman whom he found +awaiting him. + +"I've been wanting to meet you for a long time, Mr. Dunne," said the +congressman obsequiously, after the Judge had introduced him. "We've +heard a great deal about you down in Washington since your defeat of +the Griggs Bill, and we are looking for great things from you. Of +course, we have to keep our eye on what is going on back here." + +The Judge looked his surprise at this speech, and was still more +mystified at receiving a knowing wink from David. + +After some preliminary talk the congressman finally made known his +errand, and tendered David the offer of a consulship in South +America. + +At this juncture the Judge was summoned to the telephone in another +room. When he returned the congressman had taken his departure. + +"Behold," grinned David, "the future consul of--I really can't +pronounce it. I am going to look it up now in your atlas." + +"Where is Gilbert?" asked the Judge. + +"Gone to wire Hilliard before I can change my mind. You see, it's a +scheme to get me out of the road and I--well I happen to be willing to +get out of the road just now. I am not in a fighting mood." + +"Consular service," remarked the Judge oracularly, "is generally +considered a sort of clearing house for undesirable politicians. The +consuls to those little ports are, as a rule, very poor." + +"Then a good consul like your junior partner will loom up among so +many poor ones." + +Barnabas was inwardly disturbed by this move from David, but he +philosophically argued that "the boy was young and 't wouldn't harm +him to salt down awhile." + +"Dave," he counseled in farewell, "I hope you'll come to love some +good gal. Every man orter hev a hearth of his own. This stretchin' +yer feet afore other folks' firesides is unnateral and lonesome. +Thar's no place so snug and safe fer a man as his own home, with a +good wife to keep it. But I want you tew make me a promise, Dave. When +I see the time's ripe fer pickin' in politics, will you come back?" + +"I will, Uncle Barnabas," promised David solemnly. + +The heartiest approval came from Joe. + +"That's right, Dave, see all you can of the world instead of settling +down in a pasture lot at Lafferton." + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Gilbert, complacent and affable, returned to Washington accompanied by +David. A month later the newly made consul sailed from New York for +South America. He landed at a South American seaport that had a fine +harbor snugly guarded by jutting cliffs skirting the base of a hill +barren and severe in aspect. + +As he walked down the narrow, foreign streets thronged with a strange +people, and saw the structures with their meaningless signs, he began +to feel a wave of homesickness. Then, looking up, he felt that little +inner thrill that comes from seeing one's flag in a foreign land. + +"And that is why I am here," he thought, "to keep that flag flying." + +He resolutely started out on the first day to keep the flag flying in +the manner befitting the kind of a consul he meant to be. He +maintained a strict watch over the commercial conditions, and his +reports of consular news were promptly rendered in concise and +instructive form. His native tact and inherent courtesy won him favor +with the government, his hospitality and kindly intent conciliated the +natives, and he was soon also accorded social privileges. He began to +enjoy life. His duties were interesting, and his leisure was devoted +to the pursuit of novel pleasures. + +Fletcher Wilder, the son of the president of an American mining +company, was down there ostensibly to look after his father's +interests, but in reality to take out pleasure parties in his trim +little yacht, and David soon came to be the most welcome guest that +set foot on its deck. + +At the end of a year, when his duties had become a matter of routine +and his life had lost the charm of novelty, David's ambitions started +from their slumbers, though not this time in a political way. Wilder +had cruised away, and the young consul was conscious of a sense of +aloneness. He spent his evenings on his spacious veranda, from where +he could see the moonlight making a rippling road of silver across the +black water. The sensuous beauty of the tropical nights brought him +back to his early Land of Dreams, and the pastime that he had been +forced to relinquish for action now appealed to him with overwhelming +force and fascination. But the dreams were a man's dreams, not the +fleeting fancies of a boy. They continued to possess and absorb him +until one night, when he was looking above the mountains at one lone +star that shone brighter than the rest, he was moved for the first +time to give material shape and form to his conceptions. The impulse +led to execution. + +"I must get it out of my system," he explained half apologetically to +himself as he began the writing of a novel. To this task, as to +everything else he had undertaken, he brought the entire concentration +of his mind and energy, until the book soon began to seem real to +him--more real than anything he had done. As he was copying the last +page for the last time, Fletcher sailed into the harbor for a week of +farewell before returning to New York. + +"What have you been doing for amusement these last six months, +Dunne?" he asked as he dropped into David's house. + +"You'd never guess," said David, "what your absence drove me to. I've +written a book--a novel." + +"Let me take it back to the hotel with me to-night. I haven't been +sleeping well lately, and it may--" + +"If it serves as a soporific," said David gravely, as he handed him +the bulky package, "my labor will not have been in vain." + +The next morning Wilder came again into David's office. + +"I fear you didn't sleep well, after all," observed David, looking at +his visitor's heavy-lidded eyes. + +"No, darn you, Dunne. I took up your manuscript and I never laid it +down until the first streaks of dawn. Then when I went to bed I lay +awake thinking it all over. Why, Dunne, it's the best book I ever +read!" + +"I wish," David replied with a whimsical smile, "that you were a +publisher." + +"Speaking of publishers, that's why I didn't bring the manuscript +back. I sail in a week, and I want you to let me take it to a +publisher I know in New York. He will give it a prompt reading." + +"If it wouldn't bother you too much, I wish you would. You see, it +would take so long for it to come back here and be sent out again each +time it is rejected." + +"Rejected!" scoffed Wilder. "You wait and see! Aren't you going to +dedicate it?" + +David hesitated, his eyes stealing dreamily out across the bay to the +horizon line. + +"I wonder," he said meditatively, "if the person to whom it is +dedicated--every word of it--wouldn't know without the inscription." + +"No," objected Fletcher, "you should have it appear out of compliment." + +He smiled as he wrote on a piece of paper: "To T. L. P." + +"The initials of your sweetheart?" quizzed Fletcher. + +"No; when I was a little chap I used to spin yarns. These are the +initials of one who was my most absorbed listener." + +Wilder raised anchor and sailed back to the states. At the expiration +of two months he wrote David that his book had been accepted. In time +ten bound copies of his novel, his allotment from the publishers, +brought him a thrill of indescribable pleasure. The next mail brought +papers with glowing reviews and letters of commendation and +congratulations. Next came a good-sized check, and the information +that his book was a "best seller." + +The night that this information was received he went up to the top of +the hill that jutted over the harbor and listened to the song of the +waves. Two years in this land of liquid light--a land of burning days +and silent, sapphired nights, a land of palms and olives--two years of +quiet, dreamy bliss, an idle and unsubstantial time! How evanescent it +seemed, by the light of the days at home, when something had always +pressed him to action. + +"Two years of drifting," he thought. "It is time I, too, raised anchor +and sailed home." + +The next mail brought a letter that made his heart beat faster than it +had yet been able to do in this exotic, lazy land. It was a recall +from Barnabas. + + "DEAR DAVE: + + "Nothing but a lazy life in a foreign land would have drove a + man like you to write a book. The Jedge and M'ri are pleased, + but I know you are cut out for something different. I want you + to come home in time to run for legislature again. There's goin' + to be something doin'. It is time for another senator, and who + do you suppose is plugging for it, and opening hogsheads of + money? Wilksley. I want for you to come back and head him off. + If you've got one speck of your old spirit, and you care + anything about your state, you'll do it. I am still running + politics for this county at the old stand. Your book has started + folks to talking about you agen, so come home while the picking + is good. You've dreamt long enough. It is time to get up. Don't + write no more books till you git too old to work. + + "Yours if you come, + "B. B." + +The letter brought to David's eyes something that no one in this balmy +land had ever seen there. With the look of a fighter belted for battle +he went to the telegraph office and cabled Barnabas, "Coming." + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +On his return to Lafferton David was met at the train by the Judge, +M'ri, and Barnabas. + +"Your trunks air goin' out to the farm, Dave, ain't they?" asked +Barnabas wistfully. + +"Of course," replied David, with an emphasis that brought a look of +pleasure to the old man. + +"Your telegram took a great load offen my mind," he said, as they +drove out to the farm. "Miss Rhody told me all along I need hev no +fears fer you, that you weren't no dawdler." + +"Good for Miss Rhody!" laughed David. "She shall have her reward. I +brought her silk enough for two dresses at least." + +"David," said M'ri suddenly at the dinner table, "do tell me for whose +name those initials in the dedication to your book stand. Is it any +one I know?" + +"I hardly know the person myself," was the smiling and evasive +reply. + +"A woman, David?" + +"She figured largely in my fairy stories." + +"A nickname he had for Janey," she thought with a sigh. + +"Uncle Barnabas," said David the next day, "before we settle down to +things political tell me if you regret my South American experience." + +"Now that you're back and gittin' into harness, I'll overlook +anything. You'd earnt a breathing spell, and you look a hull lot +older. Your book's kep' your name in the papers, tew, which helps." + +"I will show you something that proves the book did more than that," +said David, drawing his bank book from his pocket and passing it to +the old man, who read it unbelievingly. + +"Why, Dave, you're rich!" he exclaimed. + +"No; not rich. I shall always have to work for my living. So tell me +the situation." + +This fully occupied the time it took to drive to town, for Cold +Molasses, successor to Old Hundred, kept the pace his name indicated. +The day was spent in meeting old friends, and then David settled down +to business with his old-time energy. Once more he was nominated for +the legislature and took up the work of campaigning for Stephen Hume, +opponent to Wilksley. Hume was an ardent, honest, clean-handed +politician without money, but he had for manager one Ethan Knowles, a +cool-headed, tireless veteran of campaign battles, with David acting +as assistant and speech maker. + +David was elected, went to the capital, and was honored with the +office of speaker by unanimous vote. He had his plans carefully drawn +for the election of Hume, who came down on the regular train and +established headquarters at one of the hotels, surrounded by a quiet +and determined body of men. + +Wilksley's supporters, a rollicking lot, had come by special train and +were quartered at a club, dispensing champagne and greenbacks +promiscuously and freely. There was also a third candidate, whose +backers were non-committal, giving no intimation as to where their +strength would go in case their candidate did not come in as a dark +horse. + +When the night of the senatorial contest came the floor, galleries, +and lobby of the House were crowded. The Judge, M'ri, and Joe were +there, Janey remaining home with her father, who refused to join the +party. + +"Thar'll be bigger doin's fer me to see Dave officiate at," he +prophesied. + +The quietly humorous young man wielding the gavel found it difficult +to maintain quiet in the midst of such excitement, but he finally +evolved order from chaos. + +Wilksley was the first candidate nominated, a gentleman from the +fourteenth delivering a bombastic oration in pompous periods, +accompanied by lofty gestures. He was followed by an understudy, who +made an ineffective effort to support his predecessor. + +"A ricochet shot," commented Joe. "Wait till Dave hits the bullseye." + +The supporting representatives of the dark horse made short, forceful +speeches. Then followed a brief intermission, while David called a +substitute _pro tem_ to the speaker's desk. He stepped to the platform +to make the nominating speech for Hume, the speech for which every +one was waiting. There was a hush of expectancy, and M'ri felt little +shivers of excitement creeping down her spine as she looked up at +David, dauntless, earnest, and compelling, as he towered above them +all. + +In its simplicity, its ring of truth, and its weight of conviction, +his speech was a masterpiece. + +"A young Patrick Henry!" murmured the Judge. + +M'ri made no comment, for in that flight of a second that intervened +between David's speech and the roar of tumultuous applause, she had +heard a voice, a young, exquisite voice, murmur with a little indrawn +breath, "Oh, David!" + +M'ri turned in surprise, and looked into the confused but smiling face +of a lovely young girl, who said frankly and impulsively: "I don't +know who Mr. Hume may be, but I do hope he wins." + +M'ri smiled in sympathy, trying to place the resemblance. Then her +gaze wandered to the man beside the young girl. + +"You are Carey Winthrop!" she exclaimed. + +The man turned, and leaned forward. + +"Mrs. Thorne, this is indeed a pleasure," he said, extending his +hand. + +Joe then swung his chair around into their vision. + +"Oh, Joe!" cried the young girl ecstatically. "And where is Janey?" + +The balloting was in progress, and there was opportunity for mutual +recalling of old times. Then suddenly the sibilant sounds dropped to +silence as the result was announced. Wilksley had the most votes, the +dark horse the least; Hume enjoyed a happy medium, with fifteen more +to his count than forecast by the man behind the button, as Joe +designated Knowles. + +In the rush of action from the delegates, reporters, clerks, and +messengers, the place resembled a beehive. Then came another ballot +taking. Hume had gained ten votes from the Wilksley men and fifteen +from the dark horse, but still lacked the requisite number. + +From the little retreat where Hume's manager was ensconced, with his +hand on the throttle, David emerged. He looked confident and +determined. + +The third ballot resulted in giving Hume the entire added strength of +the dark horse, and enough votes to elect. A committee was thereupon +appointed to bring the three candidates to the House. When they +entered and were escorted to the platform they each made a speech, and +then formed a reception line. David stood apart, talking to one of the +members. He was beginning to feel the reaction from the long strain he +had been under and wished to slip away from the crowd. Suddenly he +heard some one say: + +"Mr. Speaker, may I congratulate you?" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +He turned quickly, his heart thrilling at the charm in the voice, low, +yet resonant, and sweet with a lurking suggestion of sadness. + +A girl, slender and delicately made, stood before him, a girl with an +exquisite grace and a nameless charm--the something that lurks in the +fragrance of the violet. Her eyes were not the quiet, solemn eyes of +the little princess of his fairy tales, but the deep, fathomless eyes +of a maiden. + +A reminiscent smile stole over his face. + +"The little princess!" he murmured, taking her hand. + +The words brought a flush of color to her fair face. + +"The prince is a politician now," she replied. + +"The prince has to be a politician to fight for his kingdom. Have you +been here all the evening?" + +"Yes; father and I sat with your party. But you were altogether too +absorbed to glance our way." + +"Are you visiting in the city? Will you be here long?" + +"For to-night only. I've been West with father, and we only stopped +off to see what a senatorial fight was like; also, to hear you speak. +To-morrow we return East, and then mother and I shall go abroad. +Father," calling to Mr. Winthrop, "I am renewing my acquaintance with +Mr. Dunne." + +"I wish to do the same," he said, extending his hand cordially. "I +expect to be able to tell people some day that I used to fish in a +country stream with the governor of this state when he was a boy." + +After a few moments of general conversation they all left the +statehouse together. + +"Carey," said Mr. Winthrop, "I am going with the Judge to the club, so +I will put you in David's hands. I believe you have no afraidments +with him." + +"That has come to be a household phrase with us," she laughed; "but +you forget, father, that Mr. Dunne has official duties." + +"If you only knew," David assured her earnestly, "how thankful I am +for a release from them. My task is ended, and I don't wish to +celebrate in the usual and political way." + +"There is a big military ball at the hotel," informed Joe. "Mrs. +Thorne and I thought we would like to go and look on." + +"A fine idea, Joe. Maybe you would like to go?" he said to Carey, +trying to make his tone urgent. + +She laughed at his dismayed expression. + +"No; you may walk to the Bradens' with me. We couldn't get in at the +hotels, and father met Major Braden on the street. He is instructor or +something of the militia of this state, and has gone to the ball with +his wife. They supposed that this contest would last far into the +night, so they planned to be home before we were." + +"We will get a carriage as soon as we are out of the grounds." + +"Have you come to carriages?" she asked, laughingly. "You used to say +if you couldn't ride horseback, or walk, you would stand still." + +"And you agreed with me that carriages were only for the slow, the +stupid, and the infirm," he recalled. "It's a glorious night. Would +you rather walk, really?" + +"Really." + +At the entrance to the grounds they parted from the others and went up +one of the many avenues radiating from the square. + +The air was full of snowflakes, moving so softly and so slowly they +scarcely seemed to fall. The electric lights of the city shone +cheerfully through the white mist, and the sound of distant +mirthmakers fell pleasantly on the ear. + +"Snow is the only picture part of winter," said Carey. "Do you +remember the story of the Snow Princess?" + +"You must have a wonderful memory!" he exclaimed. "You were only six +years old when I told you that story." + +"I have a very vivid memory," she replied. "Sometimes it almost +frightens me." + +"Do you know," he said, "that I think people that have dreams and +fancies do look backward farther than matter-of-fact people, who let +things out of sight go out of mind?" + +"You were full of dreams then, but I don't believe you are now. Of +course, politicians have no time or inclination for dreams." + +"No; they usually have a dread of dreams. Would you rather have found +me still a dreamer?" he asked, looking down into her dark eyes, which +drooped beneath the intensity of his gaze. + +Then her delicate face, misty with sweetness, turned toward him +again. + +"No; dreams are for children and for old people, whose memories, like +their eyes, are for things far off. This is your time to do things, +not to dream them. And you have done things. I heard Major Braden +telling father about you at dinner--your success in law, your getting +some bill killed in the legislature, and your having been to South +America. Father says you have had a wonderful career for a young man. +I used to think when I was a little girl that when you were a grown-up +prince you would kill dragons and bring home golden fleeces." + +He smiled with a sudden deep throb of pleasure. Her voice stirred him +with a sense of magic. + +"This is the Braden home," she said, stopping before a big house that +seemed to be all pillars and porches. "You'll come in for a little +while, won't you?" + +"I'll come in, if I may, and help you to recall some more of Maplewood +days." + +A trim little maid opened the door and led the way into a long library +where in the fireplace a pine backlog, crisscrossed by sturdy forelogs +of birch and maple, awaited the touch of a match. It was given, and +the room was filled with a flaring light that made the soft lamplight +seem pale and feeble. + +"This is a genuine Brumble fire," he exclaimed, as they sat down +before the ruddy glow. "It carries me back to farm life." + +"How many phases of life you have seen," mused Carey. "Country, +college, city, tropical, and now this political life. Which one have +you really enjoyed the most?" + +"My life in the Land of Dreams--that beautiful Isle of Everywhere," he +replied. + +Her eyes grew radiant with understanding. + +"You are not so very much changed since your days of dreaming," she +said, smiling. "To be sure, you have lost your freckles and you don't +kick at the ground when you walk, and--" + +"And," he reminded, as she paused. + +"You are no longer twice my age." + +"Did Janey tell you?" + +"Yes; the last summer I was at Maplewood--the summer you were +graduated. You say you don't dream any more, but it wasn't so very +long ago that you did, else how could you have written that wonderful +book?" + +"Then you read it?" he asked eagerly. + +"Of course I read it." + +"All of it?" + +"Could any one begin it and not finish it? I've read some parts of it +many times." + +"Did you," he asked slowly, holding her eyes in spite of her desire +to lower them, "read the dedication?" + +And by their subtle confession he knew that this was one of the parts +she had read "many times." + +"Yes," she replied, trying to speak lightly, but breathing quickly, +"and I wondered who T. L. P. might be." + +"And so you didn't know," in slow, disappointed tones, "that they +stood for the name I gave you when I first met you--the name by which +I always think of you? It was with your perfect understanding of my +old fancies in mind that I wrote the book. And so I dedicated it to +you, thinking if you read it you would know even without the +inscription. Some one suggested--" + +"It was Fletcher," she began. + +"Oh, you know Wilder?" + +"Yes, I've known him always. He has told me of your days in South +America together and how he told you to dedicate it. And he wondered +who T. L. P. might be." + +"And you never guessed?" + +Her face, bent over the firelight, looked small and white; her +beautiful eyes were fixed and grave. Then suddenly she lifted them to +his with the artlessness of a child. + +"I did know," she confessed. "At least, I hoped--I claimed it as my +book, anyway, but I thought your memory of those summers at the farm +might not have been as keen as mine." + +"It is keen," he replied. "I have always thought of you as a little +princess who only lived in my dreams, but, hereafter, you are not only +in my past dreams, but I hope, in my future." + +"When we come back--" + +"Will you be gone long?" he asked wistfully. "Is your father--" + +"Father can't go, but he may join us." + +After a moment's hesitation she continued, with a slight blush: + +"Fletcher is going with us." + +"Oh," he said, wondering at his tinge of disappointment. + +"Carey," he said wistfully, as he was leaving, "don't you think when a +man dedicates a book to a girl, and they both have a joint claim on a +territory known as the Land of Dreams, that she might call him, as she +did when they were boy and girl, by his first name?" + +"Yes, David," she replied with a light little laugh. + +The music of the soft "a" rang entrancingly in his ears as he walked +back to the hotel. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +There was but one important measure to deal with in this session of +the legislature, but David's penetration into a thorough understanding +of each bill, and the patience and sagacity he displayed in settling +all disputes, won the approbation of even doubtful and divided +factions. He flashed a new fire of life into the ebbing enthusiasm of +his followers, whom he had led to victory on the Griggs Bill. At the +close of the session, early in May, he was presented with a set of +embossed resolutions commending his fulfillment of his duties. + +That same night, in his room at the hotel, as he was packing his +belongings, he was waited upon by a delegation composed alike of +horny-handed tillers of the soil and distinguished statesmen. + +"We come, David," said the spokesman, who had been chairman of the +county convention, "to say that you are our choice for the next +governor of this state, and in saying this we know we are echoing the +sentiment of the Republican party. In fact, we are looking to you as +the only man who can bring that party to victory." + +He said many more things, flattering and echoed by his followers. It +made the blood tingle in David's veins to know that these men of +plain, honest, country stock, like himself, believed in him and in his +honor. In kaleidoscopic quickness there passed in review his +life,--the days when he and his mother had struggled with a wretched +poverty that the neighbors had only half suspected, the first turning +point in his life, when he was taken unto the hearth and home of +strong-hearted people, his years at college, the plodding days in +pursuit of the law, his hotly waged fight in the legislature, and his +short literary career, and he felt a surging of boyish pride at the +knowledge that he was now approaching his goal. + +The next morning David went to Lafferton in order to discuss the road +to the ruling of the people. + +"Whom would you suggest for manager of my campaign, Uncle Barnabas?" +he asked. + +"Knowles came to me and offered his services. Couldn't have a slicker +man, Dave." + +"None better in the state. I shouldn't have ventured to ask him." + +Janey was home for the summer, and on the first evening of his return +she and David sat together on the porch. + +"Oh, Davey," she said with a little sob, "Jud has come home again, and +they say he isn't just wild any more, but thoroughly bad." + +The tears in her eyes and the tremor in her tone stirred all his old +protective instinct for her. + +"Poor Jud! I'll see if I can't awaken some ambition in him for a +different life." + +"You've been very patient, Davey, but do try again. Every one is down +on him now but father and you and me. Aunt M'ri has let the Judge +prejudice her; Joe hasn't a particle of patience with him, and he +can't understand how I can have any, but you do, Davey. You understand +everything." + +They sat in silence, watching the stars pierce vividly through the +blackness of the sky, and presently his thoughts strayed from Jud and +from his fair young sister. In fancy he saw the queenly carriage of an +imperious little head, the mystery lurking in a pair of purple eyes, +and heard the cadence in an exquisite voice. + +The next morning he began the fight, and there was an incessant +cannonade from start to finish against the upstart boy nominee, who +proved to be an adversary of unremitting activity, the tact and +experience of Knowles making a fortified intrenchment for him. All of +David's friends rallied strongly to his support. Hume came from +Washington, Joe from the ranch, and Wilder from the East, his father +having a branch concern in the state. + +Through the long, hot summer the warfare waged, and by mid-autumn it +seemed a neck and neck contest--a contest so susceptible that the +merest breath might turn the tide at any moment. The week before the +election found David still resolute, grim, and determined. Instead of +being discouraged by adverse attacks he had gained new vigor from +each downthrow. All forces rendezvoused at the largest city in the +state for the final engagement. + +Three days before election he received a note in a handwriting that +had become familiar to him during the past year. With a rush of +surprise and pleasure he noted the city postmark. The note was very +brief, merely mentioning the hotel at which they were stopping and +asking him to call if he could spare a few moments from his campaign +work. + +In an incredibly short time after the receipt of this note he was at +the hotel, awaiting an answer to his card. He was shown to the sitting +room of the suite, and Carey opened the door to admit him. This was +not the little princess of his dreams, nor the charming young girl who +had talked so ingenuously with him before the Braden fireside. This +was a woman, stately yet gracious, vigorous yet exquisite. + +"I am glad we came home in time to see you elected," she said. "It is +a great honor, David, to be the governor of your state." + +There was a shade of deference in her manner to him which he realized +was due to the awe with which she regarded the dignity of his elective +office. This amused while it appealed to him. + +"We are on our way to California to spend the winter," she replied, in +answer to his eager question, "and father proposed stopping here until +after election." + +"You come in and out of my life like a comet," he complained +wistfully. + +Mrs. Winthrop came in, smiling and charming as ever. She was very +cordial to David, and interested in his campaign, but it seemed to him +that she was a little too gracious, as if she wished to impress him +with the fact that it was a concession to meet him on an equal social +footing. For Mrs. Winthrop was inclined to be of the world, worldly. + +"You have arrived at an auspicious time," he assured her. "To-night +the Democrats will have the biggest parade ever scheduled for this +city. Joe calls it the round-up." + +"Oh, is Joe here?" asked Carey eagerly. + +"Yes; and another friend of yours, Fletcher Wilder." + +"I knew that he was here," she said, with an odd little smile. + +"We had expected to see him in New York, and were surprised to learn +he was out here," said Mrs. Winthrop. + +"He came to help me in my campaign," informed David. + +"Fletcher interested in politics! How strange!" + +"His interest is purely personal. We were together in South America, +you know." + +"I am glad that you have a friend in him," said Mrs. Winthrop affably. +"The parade will pass here, and Fletcher is coming up, of course. Why +not come up, too, if you can spare the time?" + +"This is not my night," laughed David. "It's purely and simply a +Democratic night. I shall be pleased to come." + +"Bring Joe, too," reminded Carey. + +When Mr. Winthrop came in David had no doubt as to the welcome he +received from the head of the family. + +"A man's measure of a man," thought David, "is easily taken, and by +natural laws, but oh, for an understanding of the scales by which +women weigh! And yet it is they who hold the balance." + +"Fletcher and David and Joe are coming to-night to watch the parade +from here," said Carey. + +"You shall all dine with us," said Mr. Winthrop. + +"Thank you," replied David, "but--" + +"Oh, but you must," insisted Mrs. Winthrop, who always warmly seconded +any proffer of hospitality made by her husband. "Fletcher will dine +with us, of course. We can have a little dinner served here in our +rooms. Write a note to Mr. Forbes, Carey." + +The marked difference in type of her three guests as they entered the +sitting room that night struck Mrs. Winthrop forcibly. Joe, lean and +brown, with laughing eyes, was the typical frontiersman; Fletcher, +quiet and substantial looking, with his air of culture and ease and +his modulated voice, was the type of a city man; David--"What a man he +is!" she was forced to admit as he stood, head uplifted in the white +glare under the chandelier, the brilliant light shining upon his dark +hair, and his eyes glowing like stars. His lithe figure, perfect in +poise and balance, of virile strength that was toil-proof, wore the +look of the outdoor life. His smile banished everything that was +ordinary from his face and transmuted it into a glowing personality. +His eyes, serious with that insight of the observer who knows what is +going on without and within, were clear and steady. + +The table was laid for six in the sitting room, the flowers and +candles giving it a homelike look. + +As Mrs. Winthrop listened to the conversation between her husband and +David she was forced to admit that the young candidate for governor +was a man of mark. + +"I never knew a man without good birth to have such perfect breeding," +she thought. "He really appears as well as Fletcher, and, well, of +course, he has more temperament. If he could have been born on a +different plane," thinking of her long line of Virginia ancestors. + +She had ceded a great deal to her husband's and Carey's democracy, and +reserved many an unfavorable criticism of their friends and their +friends' ways with a tactfulness that had blinded their eyes to her +true feelings. Yet David knew instinctively her standpoint; she partly +suspected that he knew, and the knowledge did not disturb her; she +intuitively gauged his pride, and welcomed it, for a suitor of the +Fletcher Wilder station of life was more to her liking. + +Carey led David away from her father's political discourse, and +encouraged him to give reminiscences of old days. Joe told a few +inimitable western stories, and before the cozy little meal was +finished Mrs. Winthrop, though against her will, was feeling the +compelling force of David's winning sweetness. The sound of a distant +band hurried them from the table to the balcony. + +"They've certainly got a fair showing of floating banners and +transformations," said Joe. + +As the procession came nearer the face of the hardy ranchman flushed +crimson and his eyes flashed dangerously. He made a quick motion as +if to obstruct David's vision, but the young candidate had already +seen. He stood as if at bay, his face pale, his eyes riveted on those +floating banners which bore in flaming letters the inscriptions: + +"The father of David Dunne died in state prison!" + +"His mother was a washerwoman!" + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +The others were stricken into shocked silence which they were too +stunned for the moment to break. It was Fletcher who recovered first, +but then Fletcher was the only one present who did not know that the +words had struck home. + +"We mustn't wait another moment, David," he said emphatically, "to get +out sweeping denials and--" + +"We can't," said David wearily. "It is true." + +"Oh," responded Fletcher lamely. + +There was another silence. Something in David's voice and manner had +made the silence still more constrained. + +"I'll go down and smash their banners!" muttered Joe, who had not +dared to look in David's direction. + +Mr. Winthrop restrained him. + +"The matter will take care of itself," he counseled. + +It is mercifully granted that the intensity of present suffering is +not realized. Only in looking back comes the pang, and the wonder at +the seemingly passive endurance. + +Again David's memory was bridging the past to unveil that vivid +picture of the patient-eyed woman bending over the tub, and the pity +for her was hurting him more than the cruel banner which was flaunting +the fact before a jeering, applauding crowd. + +Mrs. Winthrop gave him a covert glance. She had great pride in her +lineage, and her well-laid plans for her daughter's future did not +include David Dunne in their scope, but she was ever responsive to +distress. + +Before the look in his eyes every sensation save that of sympathy left +her, and she went to him as she would have gone to a child of her own +that had been hurt. + +"David," she said tenderly, laying her hand on his arm, "any woman in +the world might be glad to take in washing to bring up a boy to be +such a man as you are!" + +Deeply moved and surprised, he looked into her brimming eyes and met +there the look he had sometimes seen in the eyes of his mother, of +M'ri, and once in the eyes of Janey. Moved by an irresistible impulse, +he stooped and kissed her. + +The situation was relieved of its tenseness. + +"I think, Joe," said David, speaking collectedly, "we had better go to +headquarters. Knowles will be looking for me." + +"Sure," assented Joe, eager to get into action. + +"Carey," said David in a low voice, as he was leaving. + +As she turned to him, an impetuous rush of new life leaped torrent-like +in his heart. Her eyes met his slowly, and for a moment he felt a +pleasure acute with the exquisiteness of pain. Such sensations are +usually transient, and in another moment he had himself well in hand. + +"I want to say good night," he said quietly, "and--" + +"Will you come here to-morrow at eleven?" she asked hurriedly. "There +is something I want to say to you." + +"I know that you are sorry for me." + +"That isn't what I mean to say." + +A wistful but imperious message was flashed to him from her eyes. + +"I will come," he replied gravely. + +When he reached headquarters he found the committee dismayed and +distracted. Like Wilder, they counseled a sweeping denial, but David +was firm. + +"It is true," he reiterated. + +"It will cost us the vote of a certain element," predicted the +chairman, "and we haven't one to spare." + +David listened to a series of similar sentiments until Knowles--a new +Knowles--came in. The usual blank placidity of his face was rippled by +radiant exultation. + +"David," he announced, "before that parade started to-night I had made +out another conservative estimate, and thought I could pull you +through by a slight majority. Now, it's different. While you may lose +some votes from the 'near-silk stocking' class, yet for every vote so +lost hundreds will rally to you. That all men are created equal is +still a truth held to be self-evident. The spark of the spirit that +prompted the Declaration of Independence is always ready to be fanned +to a flame, and the Democrats have furnished us the fans in their +flying pennants." + +David found no balm in this argument. All the wounds in his heart were +aching, and he could not bring his thoughts to majorities. He passed a +night of nerve-racking strain. The jeopardy of election did not +concern him. That night at the dinner party he had realized that he +had a formidable rival in Fletcher, who had a place firmly fixed in +the Winthrop household. Still, against odds, he had determined to woo +and win Carey. + +He had thought to tell her of his father's imprisonment under +softening influences. To have it flashed ruthlessly upon her in such a +way, and at such a time, made him shrink from asking her to link her +fate with his, and he decided to put her resolutely out of his life. + +Unwillingly, he went to keep his appointment with her the next +morning. He also dreaded an encounter with Mrs. Winthrop. He felt that +the reaction from her moment of womanly pity would strand her still +farther on the rocks of her worldliness. He was detained on his way to +the hotel so that it was nearly twelve when he arrived. It was a +relief to find Carey alone. There was an appealing look in her eyes; +but David felt that he could bear no expression of sympathy, and he +trusted she would obey the subtle message flashed from his own. + +With keen insight she read his unspoken appeal, but a high courage +dwelt in the spirit of the little Puritan of colonial ancestry, and +she summoned its full strength. + +"David," she asked, "did you think I was ignorant of your early life +until I read those banners last night?" + +"I thought," he said, flushing and taken by surprise, "that you might +have long ago heard something, but to have it recalled in so +sensational a way when you were entertaining me at dinner--" + +[Illustration: "_It was a relief to find Carey alone_"] + +"David, the first day I met you, when I was six years old, Mrs. +Randall told us of your father. I didn't know just what a prison was, +but I supposed it something very grand, and it widened the halo of +romance that my childish eyes had cast about you. The morning after +you had nominated Mr. Hume I saw your aunt at the hotel, and she told +me, for she said some day I might hear it from strangers and not +understand. When I saw those banners it was not so much sympathy for +you that distressed me; I was thinking of your mother, and regretting +that she could not be alive to hear you speak, and see what her +bravery had done for you." + +David had to summon all his control and his recollection of her +Virginia ancestors to refrain from telling her what was in his heart. +Mrs. Winthrop helped him by her entrance at this crucial point. + +"Good morning, David," she said suavely. "Carey, Fletcher is waiting +for you at the elevator. Your father stopped him. I told him you would +be out directly." + +"I had an engagement to drive with him," explained Carey. "I thought +you would come earlier." + +"I am due at a committee meeting," he said, in a courteous but aloof +manner. + +"We start in the morning, you know," she reminded him. "Won't you dine +here with us to-night?" + +"I am sorry," he refused. "It will be impossible." + +"Arthur is going to a club for luncheon," said Mrs. Winthrop, when +Carey had gone into the adjoining room, "and I shall be alone unless +you will take pity on my loneliness. I won't detain you a moment after +luncheon." + +"Thank you," he replied abstractedly. + +She smiled at the reluctance in his eyes. + +"David is going to stay to luncheon with me," she announced to Carey +as she came into the sitting room. + +David winced at the huge bunch of violets fastened to her muff. He +remembered with a pang that Fletcher had left him that morning to go +to a florist's. After she had gone Mrs. Winthrop turned suddenly +toward him, as he was gazing wistfully at the closed door. + +"David," she asked directly, "why did you refuse our invitation to +dine to-night?" + +"Why--you see--Mrs. Winthrop--with so many engagements--there is a +factory meeting at five--" + +"David, you are floundering! That is not like the frankly spoken boy +we used to know at Maplewood. I kept you to luncheon to tell you some +news that even Carey doesn't know yet. Mrs. Randall has written +insisting that we spend a week at Maplewood before we go West. As we +are in no special haste, I shall accept her hospitality." + +David made no reply, and she continued: + +"You are going home the day before election?" + +"Yes, Mrs. Winthrop," he replied. + +"We will go down with you, and I hope you will be neighborly while we +are in the country." + +The bewildered look in his eyes deepened, and then a heartrending +solution of her graciousness came to him. Fletcher and Carey were +doubtless engaged, and this fact made Mrs. Winthrop feel secure in +extending hospitality to him. + +"Thank you, Mrs. Winthrop," he said, a little bitterly. "You are very +kind." + +"David," she asked, giving him a searching look. "What is the matter? +I thought you would be pleased at the thought of our spending a week +among you all." + +He made a quick, desperate decision. + +"Mrs. Winthrop," he asked earnestly, "may I speak to you quite openly +and honestly?" + +"David Dunne, you couldn't speak any other way," she asserted, with a +gay little laugh. + +"I love Carey!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +This information seemingly conveyed no startling intelligence. + +"Well," replied Mrs. Winthrop, evidently awaiting a further +statement. + +"I haven't tried to win her love, nor have I told her that I love her, +because I knew that in your plans for her future you had never +included me. I know what you think about family, and I don't want to +make ill return for the courtesy and kindness you and Mr. Winthrop +have always shown me." + +"David, you have one rare trait--gratitude. I did have plans for +Carey--plans built on the basis of 'family'; but I have learned from +you that there are other things, like the trait I mentioned, for +instance, that count more than lineage. Before we went abroad I knew +Carey was interested in you, with the first flutter of a young girl's +fancy, and I was secretly antagonistic to that feeling. But last +night, David, I came to feel differently. I envied your mother when I +read those banners. If I had a son like you, I'd feel honored to take +in washing or anything else for him." + +At the look of ineffable sadness in his eyes her tears came. + +"David," she said gently, after a pause, "if you can win Carey's love, +I shall gladly give my consent." + +He thanked her incoherently, and was seized with an uncontrollable +longing to get away--to be alone with this great, unbelievable +happiness. In realization of his mood, she left him under pretext of +ordering the luncheon. On her return she found him exuberant, in a +flow of spirits and pleasantry. + +"Mrs. Winthrop," he said earnestly, as he was taking his departure, "I +am not going to tell Carey just yet that I love her." + +"As you wish, David. I shall not mention our conversation." + +She smiled as the door closed upon him. + +"Tell her! I wonder if he doesn't know that every time he looks at +her, or speaks her name, he tells her. But I suppose he has some +foolish mannish pride about waiting until he is governor." + +When David, in a voice vibrant with new-found gladness, finished an +eloquent address to a United Band of Workmen, he found Mr. Winthrop +waiting for him. + +"I was sent to bring you to the hotel to dine with us, David. My wife +told me of your conversation." + +Noting the look of apprehension in David's eyes, he continued: + +"Every time a suitor for Carey has crossed our threshold I've turned +cold at the thought of relinquishing my guardianship. With you it is +different; I can only quote Carey's childish remark--'with David I +would have no afraidments.'" + +A touch upon his shoulder prevented David's reply. He turned to find +Joe and Fletcher. + +"Knowles has been looking for you everywhere. He wants you to come to +headquarters at once." + +"Is it important?" asked David hesitatingly. + +"Important! Knowles! Say, David, have you forgotten that you are +running for governor?" + +Winthrop laughed appreciatively. + +"Go back to Knowles, David, and come to us when you can. We have no +iron-clad rules as to hours. Go with him, Joe, to be sure he doesn't +forget where he is going. Come with me, Fletcher." + +"It's too late to call now," remonstrated Joe, when David had finally +made his escape from headquarters. + +David muttered that time was made for slaves, and increased his pace. +When they reached the hotel Joe refused to go to the Winthrop's +apartment. + +David found Carey alone in the sitting room. + +"David," she asked, after one glance into his eyes, "what has changed +you? Good news from Mr. Knowles?" + +"No, Carey," he replied, his eyes growing luminous. "It was something +your mother said to me this morning." + +"Oh, I am glad. What was it she said?" + +"She told me," he evaded, "that you were going to visit the +Randalls." + +"And that is what makes you look so--cheered?" she persisted. + +"No, Carey. May I tell you at two o'clock in the afternoon, the day +after election?" + +She laughed delightedly. + +"That sounds like our childhood days. You used to put notes in the old +apple tree--do you remember?--asking Janey and me to meet you two +hours before sundown at the end of the picket fence." + +Further confidential conversation was prevented by the entrance of the +others. Joe had been captured, and Mrs. Winthrop had ordered a supper +served in the rooms. + +"Carey," asked her mother softly, when they were alone that night, +"did David tell you what a cozy little luncheon we had?" + +"He told me, mother, that you said something to him that made him very +happy, but he would not tell me what it was." + +Something in her mother's gaze made Carey lift her violets as a shield +to her face. + +"She knows!" thought Mrs. Winthrop. "But does she care?" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +At two o'clock on the day after David Dunne had been elected governor +by an overwhelming majority, he reined up at the open gate at the end +of the maple drive. His heart beat faster at the sight of the regal +little figure awaiting him. Her coat, furs, and hat were all of +white. + +He helped her into the carriage and seated himself beside her. + +"Have you been waiting long, and are you dressed quite warmly?" he +asked anxiously. + +"Yes, indeed; I thought you might keep me waiting at the gate, so I +put on my furs." + +The drive went on through the grounds to a sloping pasture, where it +became a rough roadway. The day was perfect. The sharp edges of +November were tempered by a bright sun, and the crisp air was +possessed of a profound quiet. When the pastoral stretches ended in +the woods, David stopped suddenly. + +"It must have been just about here," he said, reminiscently, as he +hitched the horse to a tree and held out his hand to Carey. They +walked on into the depths of the woods until they came to a fallen +tree. + +"Let us sit here," he suggested. + +She obeyed in silence. + +An early frost had snatched the glory from the trees, whose few brown +and sere leaves hung disconsolately on the branches. High above them +was an occasional skirmishing line of wild ducks. The deep stillness +was broken only by the scattering of nuts the scurrying squirrels were +harvesting, by the cry of startled wood birds, or by the wistful note +of a solitary, distant quail. + +"Do you remember that other--that first day we came here?" he asked. + +She glanced up at him quickly. + +"Is this really the place where we came and you told me stories?" + +"You were only six years old," he reminded her. "It doesn't seem +possible that you should remember." + +"It was the first time I had ever been in any kind of woods," she +explained, "and it was the first time I had ever played with a +grown-up boy. For a long time afterward, when I teased mother for a +story, she would tell me of 'The Day Carey Met David.'" + +"And do you remember nothing more about that day?" + +"Oh, yes; you made us some little chairs out of red sticks, and you +drew me here in a cart." + +"Can't you remember when you first laid eyes on me?" + +"No--yes, I remember. You drove a funny old horse, and I saw you +coming when I was waiting at the gate." + +"Yes, you were at the gate," he echoed, with a caressing note in his +voice. "You were dressed in white, as you are to-day, and that was my +first glimpse of the little princess. And because she was the only one +I had ever known, I thought of her for years as a princess of my +imagination who had no real existence." + +"But afterwards," she asked wistfully, "you didn't think of me as an +imaginary person, did you?" + +"Yes; you were hardly a reality until--" + +"Until the convention?" she asked disappointedly. + +"No; before that. It was in South America, when I began to write my +book, that you came to life and being in my thoughts. The tropical +land, the brilliant sunshine, the purple nights, the white stars, the +orchids, the balconies looking down upon fountained courts, all +invoked you. You answered, and crept into my book, and while we--you +and I--were writing it, it came to me suddenly and overwhelmingly that +the little princess was a living, breathing person, a woman who mayhap +would read my book some day and feel that it belonged to her. It was +so truly hers that I did not think it necessary to write the +dedication page. And she did read the book and she did know--didn't +she?" + +He looked down into her face, which had grown paler but infinitely +more lovely. + +"David, I didn't dare know. I wanted to think it was so." + +"Carey," his voice came deep and strong, his eyes beseeching, "we were +prince and princess in that enchanted land of childish dreams. Will +you make the dream a reality?" + + * * * * * + +"When, David," she asked him, "did you know that you loved, not the +little princess, but me, Carey?" + +"You make the right distinction in asking me when I _knew_ I loved +you. I loved you always, but I didn't know that I loved you, or how +much I loved you, until that night we sat before the fire at the +Bradens'." + +"And, David, tell me what mother said that day after the parade?" + +"She told me I had her consent to ask you--this!" + +"And why, David, did you wait until to-day?" + +"The knowledge that you were coming back here to Maplewood brought the +wish to make a reality of another dream--to meet you at the place +where I first saw you--to bring you here, where you clung to me for +the protection that is henceforth always yours. And now, Carey, it is +my turn to ask you a question. When did you first love me?" + +[Illustration: "_'Carey, will you make the dream a reality?'_"] + +"That first day I met you--here in the woods. My dream and my prince +were always realities to me." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +The governor was indulging in the unwonted luxury of solitude in +his private sanctum of the executive offices. The long line of +politicians, office seekers, committees, and reporters had passed, +and he was supposed to have departed also, but after his exit he had +made a detour and returned to his private office. + +Then he sat down to face the knottiest problem that had as yet +confronted him in connection with his official duties. An important +act of the legislature awaited his signature or veto. Various pressing +matters called for immediate action, but they were mere trifles +compared to the issue pending upon an article he had read in a +bi-weekly paper from one of the country districts. The article stated +that a petition was being circulated to present to the governor, +praying the pardon and release of Jud Brumble. Then had begun the +great conflict in the mind of David Dunne, the "governor who could do +no wrong." It was not a conflict between right and wrong that was +being waged, for Jud had been one to the prison born. + +David reviewed the series of offenses Jud had perpetrated, punishment +for which had ever been evaded or shifted to accomplices. He recalled +the solemn promise the offender had made him long ago when, through +David's efforts, he had been acquitted--a promise swiftly broken and +followed by more daring transgressions, which had culminated in one +enormous crime. He had been given the full penalty--fifteen years--a +sentence in which a long-suffering community had rejoiced. + +Jud had made himself useful at times to a certain gang of ward heelers +and petty politicians, who were the instigators of this petition, +which they knew better than to present themselves. Had they done so, +David's course would have been plain and easy; but the petition was to +be conveyed directly and personally to the governor, so the article +read, by the prisoner's father, Barnabas Brumble. + +By this method of procedure the petitioners showed their cunning as +well as their knowledge of David Dunne. They knew that his sense of +gratitude was as strong as his sense of accurate justice, and that to +Barnabas he attributed his first start in life; that he had, in fact, +literally blazed the political trail that had led him from a country +lawyer to the governorship of his state. + +There were other ties, other reasons, of which these signers knew not, +that moved David to heed a petition for release should it be +presented. + +Again he seemed to see his mother's imploring eyes and to hear her +impressive voice. Again he felt around his neck the comforting, chubby +arms of the criminal's little sister. Her youthful guilelessness and +her inherent goodness had never recognized evil in her wayward +brother, and she would look confidently to "Davey" for service, as she +had done in the old days of country schools and meadow lanes. + +On the other hand, he, David Dunne, had taken a solemn oath to do his +duty, and his duty to the people, in the name of justice, was clear. +He owed it to them to show no leniency to Jud Brumble. + +So he hovered between base ingratitude to the man who had made +him, and who had never before asked a favor, and non-fulfillment of +duty to his people. It was a wage of head and heart. There had never +been moral compromises in his code. There had ever been a right and +a wrong--plain roads, with no middle course or diverging paths, but +now in his extremity he sought some means of evading the direct +issue. He looked for the convenient loophole of technicality--an +irregularity in the trial--but his legal knowledge forbade this +consideration after again going over the testimony and evidence of the +trial. The attorney for the defense had been compelled to admit +that his client had had a square deal. If only the petition might +be brought in the usual way, and presented to the pardon board, it +would not be allowed to reach the governor, as there was nothing in +the case to warrant consideration, but that was evidently not to be +the procedure. Barnabas would come to him and ask for Jud's release, +assuming naturally that his request would be willingly granted. + +If he pardoned Jud, all the popularity of the young governor would not +screen him from the public censure. One common sentiment of outrage +had been awakened by the crime, and the criminal had been universally +repudiated, but it was not from public censure or public criticism +that this young man with the strong under jaw shrank, but from the +knowledge that he would be betraying a trust. Gratitude and duty +pointed in different directions this time. + +With throbbing brain and racked nerves he made his evening call upon +Carey, who had come to be a clearing house for his troubles and who +was visiting the Bradens. She looked at him to-night with her eyes +full of the adoration a young girl gives to a man who has forged his +way to fame. + +He responded to her greeting abstractedly, and then said abruptly: + +"Carey, I am troubled to-night!" + +"I knew it before you came, David. I read the evening papers." + +"What!" he exclaimed in despair. "It's true, then! I have not seen the +papers to-night." + +She brought him the two evening papers of opposite politics. In +glowing headlines the Democratic paper told in exaggerated form the +story of his early life, his humble home, his days of struggle, his +start in politics, and his success, due to the father of the hardened +criminal. Would the governor do his duty and see that law and order +were maintained, or would he sacrifice the people to his personal +obligations? David smiled grimly as he reflected that either course +would be equally censured by this same paper. + +He took up the other journal, the organ of his party, which stated the +facts very much as the other paper had done, and added that Barnabas +Brumble was en route to the capital city for the purpose of asking a +pardon for his son. The editor, in another column, briefly and firmly +expressed his faith in the belief that David Dunne would be stanch in +his views of what was right and for the public welfare. + +There was one consolation; neither paper had profaned by public +mention the love of his boyhood days. + +"What shall I do! What should I do!" he asked himself in desperation. + +"I know what you will do," said Carey, quickly reading the unspoken +words. + +"What?" + +"You will do, as you always do--what you believe to be right. David, +tell me the story of those days." + +So from the background of his recollections he brought forward vividly +a picture of his early life, a story she had heard only from others. +He told her, too, of his boyish fancy for Janey. + +There was silence when he had finished. Carey looked into the +flickering light of the open fire with steady, musing eyes. It did not +hurt her in the least that he had had a love of long ago. It made him +but the more interesting, and appealed to her as a pretty and fitting +romance in his life. + +"It seems so hard, either way, David," she said looking up at him in a +sympathetic way. "To follow the dictates of duty is so cold and cruel +a way, yet if you follow the dictates of your heart your conscience +will accuse you. But you will, when you have to act, David, do what +you believe to be right, and abide by the consequences. Either way, +dear, is going to bring you unhappiness." + +"Which do you believe the right way, Carey?" he asked, looking +searchingly into her mystic eyes. + +"David," she replied helplessly, "I don't know! The more I think about +it, the more complicated the decision seems." + +They discussed the matter at length, and he went home comforted by the +thought that there was one who understood him, and who would abide in +faith by whatever decision he made. + +The next day, at the breakfast table, on the street, in his office, in +the curious, questioning faces of all he encountered, he read the +inquiry he was constantly asking himself and to which he had no answer +ready. When he finally reached his office he summoned his private +secretary. + +"Major, don't let in any more people than is absolutely necessary +to-day. I will see no reporters. You can tell them that no petition or +request for the pardon of Jud Bramble has been received, if they ask, +and oh, Major!" + +The secretary turned expectantly. + +"If Barnabas Brumble comes, of course he is to be admitted at once." + +Later in the morning the messenger to the governor stood at the window +of the business office, idly looking out. + +"Dollars to doughnuts," he exclaimed suddenly and confidently, "that +this is Barnabas Brumble coming up the front walk!" + +The secretary hastened to the window. A grizzled old man in +butternut-colored, tightly buttoned overcoat, and carrying a telescope +bag, was ascending the steps. + +"I don't know why you think so," said the secretary resentfully to the +boy. "Barnabas Brumble isn't the only farmer in the world. Sometimes," +he added, pursuing a train of thought beyond the boy's knowledge, "it +seems as if no one but farmers came into this capitol nowadays." + +A few moments later one of the guards ushered into the executive +office the old man carrying the telescope. The secretary caught the +infection of the boy's belief. + +"What can I do for you?" he asked courteously. + +"I want to see the guvner," replied the old man in a curt tone. + +"Your name?" asked the secretary. + +"Barnabas Brumble," was the terse response. + +He had not read the newspapers for a week past, and so he could hardly +know the importance attached to his name in the ears of those +assembled. The click of the typewriters ceased, the executive clerk +looked quickly up from his papers, the messenger assumed a triumphant +pose, and the janitor peered curiously in from an outer room. + +"Come this way, Mr. Brumble," said the secretary deferentially, as he +passed to the end of the room and knocked at a closed door. + +David Dunne knew, when he heard the knock, to whom he would open the +door, and he was glad the strain of suspense was ended. But when he +looked into the familiar face a host of old memories crowded in upon +his recollection, and obliterated the significance of the call. + +"Uncle Barnabas!" he said, extending a cordial hand to the visitor, +while his stern, strong face softened under his slow, sweet smile. +Then he turned to his secretary. + +"Admit no one else, Major." + +David took the telescope from his guest and set it on the table, +wondering if it contained the "documents in evidence." + +"Take off your coat, Uncle Barnabas. They keep it pretty warm in +here!" + +"I callate they do--in more ways than one," chuckled Barnabas, +removing his coat. "I hed to start purty early this mornin', when it +was cool-like. Wal, Dave, times has changed! To think of little Dave +Dunne bein' guvner! I never seemed to take it in till I come up them +front steps." + +The governor laughed. + +"Sometimes I don't seem to take it in myself, but _you_ ought to, +Uncle Barnabas. You put me here!" + +As he spoke he unlocked a little cabinet and produced a bottle and a +couple of glasses. + +"Wal, I do declar, ef you don't hev things as handy as a pocket in a +shirt! Good stuff, Dave! More warmin' than my old coat, I reckon, but +say, Dave, what do you s'pose I hev got in that air telescope?" + +David winced. In olden times the old man ever came straight to the +point, as he was doing now. + +"Why, what is it, Uncle Barnabas?" + +"Open it!" directed the old man laconically. + +With the feeling that he was opening his coffin, David unstrapped the +telescope and lifted the cover. A little exclamation of pleasure +escaped him. The telescope held big red apples, and it held nothing +more. David quickly bit into one. + +"I know from just which particular tree these come," he said, "from +that humped, old one in the corner of the orchard nearest the house." + +"Yes," allowed Barnabas, "that's jest the one--the one under which you +and her allers set and purtended you were studyin' your lessons." + +David's eyes grew luminous in reminiscence. + +"I haven't forgotten the tree--or her--or the old days, Uncle +Barnabas." + +"I knowed you hadn't, Dave!" + +Again David's heart sank at the confidence in the tone which betokened +the faith reposed, but he would give the old man a good time anyway +before he took his destiny by the throat. + +"Wouldn't you like to go through the capitol?" he asked. + +"I be goin'. The feller that brung me up here sed he'd show me +through." + +"I'll show you through," said David decisively, and together they went +through the places of interest in the building, the governor as proud +as a newly domiciled man showing off his possessions. At last they +came to the room where in glass cases reposed the old, unfurled battle +flags. The old man stopped before one case and looked long and +reverently within. + +"Which was your regiment, Uncle Barnabas?" + +"Forty-seventh Infantry. I kerried that air flag at the Battle of the +Wilderness." + +David called to a guard and obtained a key to the case. Opening it, he +bade the old man take out the flag. + +With trembling hands Barnabas took out the flag he had followed when +his country went to war. He gazed at it in silence, and then restored +it carefully to its place. As they walked away, he brushed his coat +sleeve hastily across his dimmed eyes. + +David consulted his watch. + +"It's luncheon time, Uncle Barnabas. We'll go over to my hotel. The +executive mansion is undergoing repairs." + +"I want more'n a lunch, Dave! I ain't et nuthin' sence four o'clock +this mornin'." + +"I'll see that you get enough to eat," laughed David. + +In the lobby of the hotel a reporter came quickly up to them. + +"How are you, governor?" he asked, with his eyes fastened falcon-like +on Barnabas. + +David returned the salutation and presented his companion. + +"Mr. Brumble from Lafferton?" asked the reporter, with an insinuating +emphasis on the name of the town. + +"Yes," replied the old man in surprise. "I don't seem to reckleck +seein' you before." + +"I never met you, but I have heard of you. May I ask what your +business in the city is, Mr. Brumble?" + +The old man gave him a keen glance from beneath his shaggy brows. + +"Wal, I don't know as thar's any law agin your askin'! I came to see +the guvner." + +David, with a laugh of pure delight at the discomfiture of the +reporter, led the way to the dining room. + +"You're as foxy as ever, Uncle Barnabas. You routed that newspaper man +in good shape." + +"So that's what he was! I didn't know but he was one of them +three-card-monty sharks. Wal, I s'pose it's his trade to ask +questions." + +Barnabas' loquacity always ceased entirely at meal times, so his +silence throughout the luncheon was not surprising to David. + +"Wal, Dave," he said as he finished, "ef this is your lunch I'd hate +to hev to eat what you'd call dinner. I never et so much before at one +settin'!" + +"We'll go over to the club now and have a smoke," suggested David. +"Then you can go back to my office with me and see what I have to +undergo every afternoon." + +At the club they met several of David's friends--not politicians--who +met Barnabas with courtesy and composure. When they returned to +David's private office Barnabas was ensconced comfortably in an +armchair while David listened with patience to the long line of +importuners, each receiving due consideration. The last interview was +not especially interesting and Barnabas' attention was diverted. His +eyes fell on a newspaper, which he picked up carelessly. It was the +issue of the night before, and his own name was conspicuous in big +type. He read the article through and returned the paper to its place +without being observed by David, whose back was turned to him. + +"Wal, Dave," he said, when the last of the line had left the room, "I +used ter think I'd ruther do enything than be a skule teacher, but I +swan ef you don't hev it wuss yet!" + +David made no response. The excitement of his boyish pleasure in +showing Uncle Barnabas about had died away as he listened to the +troubles and demands of his callers, and now the recollection of the +old man's errand confronted him in full force. + +Barnabas looked at him keenly. + +"Dave," he said slowly, "'t ain't no snap you hev got! I never knowed +till to-day jest what it meant to you. I'm proud of you, Dave! I +wish--I wish you hed been my son!" + +The governor arose impetuously and crossed the room. + +"I would have been, Uncle Barnabas, if she had not cared for Joe!" + +"I know it, Dave, but you hev a sweet little gal who will make you +happy." + +The governor's face lighted in a look of exquisite happiness. + +"I have, Uncle Barnabas. We will go to see her this evening." + +"I'd like to see her, sartain. Hain't seen her sence the night you +was elected. And, Dave," with a sheepish grin, "I'm a-goin' to git +spliced myself." + +"What? No! May I guess, Uncle Barnabas--Miss Rhody?" + +"Dave, you air a knowin' one. Yes, it's her! Whenever we set down to +our full table I got to thinkin' of that poor little woman a-settin' +down alone, and I've never yet knowed a woman livin' alone to feed +right. They allers eat bean soup or prunes, and call it a meal." + +"I am more glad than I can tell you, Uncle Barnabas, and I shall +insist on giving the bride away. But what will Penny think about some +one stepping in?" + +"Wal, Dave, I'll allow I wuz skeered to tell Penny, and it tuk a hull +lot of bracin' to do it, and what do you suppose she sed? She sez, +'I've bin wantin' tew quit these six years, and now, thank the Lord, +I've got the chance.'" + +"Why, what in the world did she want to leave for?" + +"I guess you'll be surprised when I tell you. To marry Larimy +Sasser!" + +"Uncle Larimy! She'll scour him out of house and home," laughed +David. + +"We'll hev both weddin's to the same time. Joe and Janey are a-comin', +and we'll hev a grand time. I hain't much on the write, Dave, and I've +allers meant to see you here in this great place. Some of the boys sez +to me: 'Mebby Dave's got stuck on himself and his job by this time, +and you'll hev to send in yer keerd by a nigger fust afore you kin see +him,' but I sez, 'No! Not David Dunne! He ain't that kind and never +will be.' So when I go back I kin tell them how you showed me all over +the place, and tuk me to eat at a hotel and to that air stylish place +where I wuz treated like a king by yer friends. I've never found you +wantin', Dave, and I never expect to!" + +"Uncle Barnabas," began David, "I--" + +His voice suddenly failed him. + +"See here, Dave! I didn't know nuthin' about that," pointing to the +newspaper, "until a few minutes ago. I sed tew hum that I wuz a-comin' +to see how Dave run things, and ef them disreptible associates of +Jud's air a-gittin' up some fool paper, I don't know it! Ef they do +send it in, don't you dare sign it! Why, I wouldn't hev that boy outen +prison fer nuthin'. He's different from what he used to be, Dave. He +got so low he would hev to reach up ter touch bottom. He's ez low ez +they git, and he's dangerous. I didn't know an easy minute fer the +last two years afore he wuz sent up, so keep him behind them bars fer +fear he'll dew somethin' wuss when he gits out. Don't you dare sign no +petition, Dave!" + +Tears of relief sprang into the strong eyes of the governor. + +"Why, Dave," said the old man in shocked tones, "you didn't go fer to +think fer a minute I'd ask you to let him out cause he wuz my son? +Even ef I hed a wanted him out, and Lord knows I don't, I'd not ask +you to do somethin' wrong, no more'n I'd bring dishoner to that old +flag I held this mornin'!" + +David grasped his hand. + +"Uncle Barnabas!" + +His voice broke with emotion. Then he murmured: "We'll go to see +_her_, now." + +As they passed out into the corridor a reporter hastened up to them. + +"Governor," he asked, with impudent directness, "are you going to +pardon Jud Bramble?" + +Before David could reply, Barnabas stepped forward: + +"Young feller, thar hain't no pardon ben asked fer Jud Brumble, and +what's more, thar hain't a-goin' to be none asked--not by me. I come +down here to pay my respecks to the guvner, and to bring him a few +apples, and you kin say so ef you wanter!" + +When Carey came into the library where her two callers awaited her, +one glance into the divine light of David's deepening, glowing eyes +told her what she wanted to know. + +With a soft little cry she went to Barnabas, who was holding out his +hand in welcome. Impulsively her lips were pressed against his +withered cheek, and he took her in his arms as he might have taken +Janey. + +"Why, Carey!" he said delightedly, "Dave's little gal!" + + + + * * * * * + + + +AN ANNOUNCEMENT + +of New Books + +Love in a Mask. Honoré de Balzac + +A discovery in the world of literature, a story of +daring and piquant interest. Price . . . . $1.00 net. + +Betty Moore's Journal. Mrs. Mabel D. Carry + +A gallant little charge for the rights of motherhood +among the wealthy indifferent, and from a most +important viewpoint. Price . . . . . . . . $1.00 net. + +The Joy of Gardens. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: David Dunne</p> +<p> A Romance of the Middle West</p> +<p>Author: Belle Kanaris Maniates</p> +<p>Release Date: June 15, 2009 [eBook #29128]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAVID DUNNE***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3 class="pg">E-text prepared by Roger Frank<br /> + and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> + +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_1' id='linki_1'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-fpc.jpg' alt='' title='' width='401' height='547' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +“<i>He stood as if at bay, his face pale, his eyes riveted<br /> +on those floating banners</i>” Page 218<br /> +</p> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<h1>DAVID DUNNE</h1> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.2em;margin-bottom:4em;'>A Romance of the Middle West</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-variant:small-caps;'>By</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-variant:small-caps;font-size:1.2em;margin-bottom:4em;'>BELLE KANARIS MANIATES</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-style:italic;'>With illustrations by</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.2em;margin-bottom:8em;;'>JOHN DREW</p> +<p class='tp' style='letter-spacing:0.1em;;font-size:1.2em;'>RAND McNALLY & COMPANY</p> +<p class='tp' >CHICAGO NEW YORK</p> +<hr class='pb' /> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:smaller;'><i>Copyright, 1912, by</i><br />RAND, McNALLY & COMPANY</p> +<hr class='pb' /> +<p style='text-align:center' >To Milly and Gardner</p> +<hr class='pb' /> +<h3>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h3> +<table border='0' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Illustrations' style='margin:1em auto;'> +<col style='width:75%;' /> +<col style='width:25%;' /> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'>“<i>He stood as if at bay, his face pale, his eyes riveted on those floating banners</i>”</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_1'><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'></td> + <td valign='top' align='right'><span style='font-size:smaller'>FACING PAGE</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'>“‘<i>Dave’s little gal!</i>’”</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_2'>11</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'>“<i>With proudly protective air, David walked beside the stiffly starched little girl</i>”</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_3'>42</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'>“<i>David’s friends were surprised to receive an off-hand invitation from him to ‘drop in for a little country spread’</i>”</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_4'>148</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'>“<i>He kept his word. Jud was cleared</i>”</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_5'>158</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'>“<i>It was a relief to find Carey alone</i>”</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_6'>224</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='left'>“<i>‘Carey, will you make the dream a reality?’</i>”</td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#linki_7'>238</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr class='pb' /> +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_2' id='linki_2'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-011.jpg' alt='' title='' width='369' height='527' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +“‘<i>Dave’s little gal!</i>’”<br /> +</p> +</div> +<hr class='pb' /> +<p class='tp' style='font-style:italic;font-size:1.2em;margin-bottom:1em;'>PART ONE</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.3em;margin-bottom:40px;'>CHAPTER I</p> +<p>Across lots to the Brumble farm came the +dusty apparition of a boy, a tousle-headed, +freckle-faced, gaunt-eyed little fellow, clad in a +sort of combination suit fashioned from a pair +of overalls and a woman’s shirtwaist. In search +of “Miss M’ri,” he looked into the kitchen, the +henhouse, the dairy, and the flower garden. Not +finding her in any of these accustomed places, he +stood still in perplexity.</p> +<p>“Miss M’ri!” rang out his youthful, vibrant +treble.</p> +<p>There was a note of promise in the pleasant +voice that came back in subterranean response.</p> +<p>“Here, David, in the cellar.”</p> +<p>The lad set down the tin pail he was carrying +and eagerly sped to the cellar. His fondest +hopes were realized. M’ri Brumble, thirty odd +years of age, blue of eye, slightly gray of hair, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12' name='page_12'></a>12</span> +and sweet of heart, was lifting the cover from +the ice-cream freezer.</p> +<p>“Well, David Dunne, you came in the nick of +time,” she said, looking up with kindly eyes. +“It’s just frozen. I’ll dish you up some now, if +you will run up to the pantry and fetch two +saucers––biggest you can find.”</p> +<p>Fleetly David footed the stairs and returned +with two soup plates.</p> +<p>“These were the handiest,” he explained apologetically +as he handed them to her.</p> +<p>“Just the thing,” promptly reassured M’ri, +transferring a heaping ladle of yellow cream to +one of the plates. “Easy to eat out of, too.”</p> +<p>“My, but you are giving me a whole lot,” he +said, watching her approvingly and encouragingly. +“I hope you ain’t robbing yourself.”</p> +<p>“Oh, no; I always make plenty,” she replied, +dishing a smaller portion for herself. “Here’s +enough for our dinner and some for you to carry +home to your mother.”</p> +<p>“I haven’t had any since last Fourth of +July,” he observed in plaintive reminiscence as +they went upstairs. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13' name='page_13'></a>13</span></p> +<p>“Why, David Dunne, how you talk! You +just come over here whenever you feel like eating +ice cream, and I’ll make you some. It’s no +trouble.”</p> +<p>They sat down on the west, vine-clad porch to +enjoy their feast in leisure and shade. M’ri had +never lost her childish appreciation of the delicacy, +and to David the partaking thereof was +little short of ecstasy. He lingered longingly +over the repast, and when the soup plate would +admit of no more scraping he came back with a +sigh to sordid cares.</p> +<p>“Mother couldn’t get the washing done no-ways +to-day. She ain’t feeling well, but you can +have the clothes to-morrow, sure. She sent you +some sorghum,” pointing to the pail.</p> +<p>M’ri took the donation into the kitchen. When +she brought back the pail it was filled with eggs. +Not to send something in return would have +been an unpardonable breach of country etiquette.</p> +<p>“Your mother said your hens weren’t laying,” +she said.</p> +<p>The boy’s eyes brightened. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14' name='page_14'></a>14</span></p> +<p>“Thank you, Miss M’ri; these will come in +good. Our hens won’t lay nor set. Mother says +they have formed a union. But I ’most forgot +to tell you––when I came past Winterses, Ziny +told me to ask you to come over as soon as you +could.”</p> +<p>“I suppose Zine has got one of her low spells,” +said Barnabas Brumble, who had just come up +from the barn. “Most likely Bill’s bin gittin’ +tight agin. He––”</p> +<p>“Oh, no!” interrupted his sister hastily. “Bill +has quit drinking.”</p> +<p>“Bill’s allers a-quittin’. Trouble with Bill is, +he can’t stay quit. I see him yesterday comin’ +down the road zig-zaggin’ like a rail fence. Fust +she knows, she’ll hev to be takin’ washin’ to support +him. Sometimes I think ’t would be a good +idee to let him git sent over the road onct. Mebby +’t would learn him a lesson––”</p> +<p>He stopped short, noticing the significant look +in M’ri’s eyes and the two patches of color +spreading over David’s thin cheeks. He recalled +that four years ago the boy’s father had +died in state prison. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15' name='page_15'></a>15</span></p> +<p>“You’d better go right over to Zine’s,” he +added abruptly.</p> +<p>“I’ll wait till after dinner. We’ll have it +early.”</p> +<p>“Hev it now,” suggested Barnabas.</p> +<p>“Now!” ejaculated David. “It’s only half-past +ten.”</p> +<p>“I could eat it now jest as well as I could at +twelve,” argued the philosophical Barnabas. +“Jest as leaves as not.”</p> +<p>There were no iron-clad rules in this comfortable +household, especially when Pennyroyal, the +help, was away.</p> +<p>“All right,” assented M’ri with alacrity. “If +I am going to do anything, I like to do it right +off quick and get it over with. You stay, +David, if you can eat dinner so early.”</p> +<p>“Yes, I can,” he assured her, recalling his +scanty breakfast and the freezer of cream that +was to furnish the dessert. “I’ll help you get +it, Miss M’ri.”</p> +<p>He brought a pail of water from the well, +filled the teakettle, and then pared the potatoes +for her. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16' name='page_16'></a>16</span></p> +<p>“When will Jud and Janey get their dinner?” +he asked Barnabas.</p> +<p>“They kerried their dinner to-day. The scholars +air goin’ to hev a picnic down to Spicely’s +grove. How comes it you ain’t to school, +Dave?”</p> +<p>“I have to help my mother with the washing,” +he replied, a slow flush coming to his face. +“She ain’t strong enough to do it alone.”</p> +<p>“What on airth kin you do about a washin’, +Dave?”</p> +<p>“I can draw the water, turn the wringer, hang +up the clothes, empty the tubs, fetch and carry +the washings, and mop.”</p> +<p>Barnabas puffed fiercely at his pipe for a +moment.</p> +<p>“You’re a good boy, Dave, a mighty good +boy. I don’t know what your ma would do +without you. I hed to leave school when I +wa’n’t as old as you, and git out and hustle so +the younger children could git eddicated. By +the time I wuz foot-loose from farm work, I wuz +too old to git any larnin’. You’d orter manage +someway, though, to git eddicated.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17' name='page_17'></a>17</span></p> +<p>“Mother’s taught me to read and write and +spell. When I get old enough to work for good +wages I can go into town to the night school.”</p> +<p>In a short time M’ri had cooked a dinner that +would have tempted less hearty appetites than +those possessed by her brother and David.</p> +<p>“You ain’t what might be called a delikit +feeder, Dave,” remarked Barnabas, as he replenished +the boy’s plate for the third time. “You’re +so lean I don’t see where you put it all.”</p> +<p>David might have responded that the vacuum +was due to the fact that his breakfast had consisted +of a piece of bread and his last night’s +supper of a dish of soup, but the Dunne pride +inclined to reservation on family and personal +matters. He speared another small potato and +paused, with fork suspended between mouth and +plate.</p> +<p>“Mother says she thinks I am hollow inside +like a stovepipe.”</p> +<p>“Well, I dunno. Stovepipes git filled sometimes,” +ruminated his host.</p> +<p>“Leave room for the ice cream, David,” cautioned +M’ri, as she descended to the cellar. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18' name='page_18'></a>18</span></p> +<p>The lad’s eyes brightened as he beheld the +golden pyramid. Another period of lingering +bliss, and then with a sigh of mingled content +and regret, David rose from the table.</p> +<p>“Want me to hook up for you, Mr. Brumble?” +he asked, moved to show his gratitude for the +hospitality extended.</p> +<p>“Why, yes, Dave; wish you would. My back +is sorter lame to-day. Land o’ livin’,” he commented +after David had gone to the barn, “but +that boy swallered them potaters like they wuz +so many pills!”</p> +<p>“Poor Mrs. Dunne!” sighed M’ri. “I am +afraid it’s all she can do to keep a very small +pot boiling. I am glad she sent the sorghum, so +I could have an excuse for sending the eggs.”</p> +<p>“She hain’t poor so long as she hez a young +sprout like Dave a-growin’ up. We used to call +Peter Dunne ‘Old Hickory,’ but Dave, he’s +second-growth hickory. He’s the kind to bend +and not break. Jest you wait till he’s seasoned +onct.”</p> +<p>After she had packed a pail of ice cream for +David, gathered some flowers for Ziny, and made +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19' name='page_19'></a>19</span> +out a memorandum of supplies for Barnabas to +get in town, M’ri set out on her errand of mercy.</p> +<p>The “hooking up” accomplished, David, laden +with a tin pail in each hand and carrying in his +pocket a drawing of black tea for his mother to +sample, made his way through sheep-dotted +pastures to Beechum’s woods, and thence along +the bank of the River Rood. Presently he spied +a young man standing knee-deep in the stream +in the patient pose peculiar to fishermen.</p> +<p>“Catch anything?” called David eagerly.</p> +<p>The man turned and came to shore. He wore +rubber hip boots, dark trousers, a blue flannel +shirt, and a wide-brimmed hat. His eyes, blue +and straight-gazing, rested reminiscently upon +the lad.</p> +<p>“No,” he replied calmly. “I didn’t intend to +catch anything. What is your name?”</p> +<p>“David Dunne.”</p> +<p>The man meditated.</p> +<p>“You must be about twelve years old.”</p> +<p>“How did you know?”</p> +<p>“I am a good guesser. What have you got in +your pail?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20' name='page_20'></a>20</span></p> +<p>“Which one?”</p> +<p>“Both.”</p> +<p>“Thought you were a good guesser.”</p> +<p>The youth laughed.</p> +<p>“You’ll do, David. Let me think––where did +you come from just now?”</p> +<p>“From Brumble’s.”</p> +<p>“It’s ice cream you’ve got in your pail,” he +said assuredly.</p> +<p>“That’s just what it is!” cried the boy in +astonishment, “and there’s eggs in the other +pail.”</p> +<p>“Let’s have a look at the ice cream.”</p> +<p>David lifted the cover.</p> +<p>“It looks like butter,” declared the stranger.</p> +<p>“It don’t taste like butter,” was the indignant +rejoinder. “Miss M’ri makes the best cream of +any one in the country.”</p> +<p>“I knew that, my young friend, before you +did. It’s a long time since I had any, though. +Will you sell it to me, David? I will give you +half a dollar for it.”</p> +<p>Half a dollar! His mother had to work all +day to earn that amount. The ice cream was not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21' name='page_21'></a>21</span> +his––not entirely. Miss M’ri had sent it to his +mother. Still––</p> +<p>“’T will melt anyway before I get home,” he +argued aloud and persuasively.</p> +<p>“Of course it will,” asserted the would-be purchaser.</p> +<p>David surrendered the pail, and after much +protestation consented to receive the piece of +money which the young man pressed upon him.</p> +<p>“You’ll have to help me eat it now; there’s no +pleasure in eating ice cream alone.”</p> +<p>“We haven’t any spoons,” commented the boy +dubiously.</p> +<p>“We will go to my house and eat it.”</p> +<p>“Where do you live?” asked David in surprise.</p> +<p>“Just around the bend of the river here.”</p> +<p>David’s freckles darkened. He didn’t like to +be made game of by older people, for then there +was no redress.</p> +<p>“There isn’t any house within two miles of +here,” he said shortly.</p> +<p>“What’ll you bet? Half a dollar?”</p> +<p>“No,” replied David resolutely.</p> +<p>“Well, come and see.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22' name='page_22'></a>22</span></p> +<p>David followed his new acquaintance around +the wooded bank. The river was full of surprises +to-day. In midstream he saw what looked +to him like a big raft supporting a small house.</p> +<p>“That’s my shanty boat,” explained the young +man, as he shoved a rowboat from shore. “Jump +in, my boy.”</p> +<p>“Do you live in it all the time?” asked David, +watching with admiration the easy but forceful +pull on the oars.</p> +<p>“No; I am on a little fishing and hunting expedition.”</p> +<p>“Can’t kill anything now,” said the boy, a +derisive smile flickering over his features.</p> +<p>“I am not hunting to kill, my lad. I am hunting +old scenes and memories of other days. I +used to live about here. I ran away eight years +ago when I was just your age.”</p> +<p>“What is your name?” asked David interestedly.</p> +<p>“Joe Forbes.”</p> +<p>“Oh,” was the eager rejoinder. “I know. +You are Deacon Forbes’ wild son that ran +away.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23' name='page_23'></a>23</span></p> +<p>“So that’s how I am known around here, is +it? Well, I’ve come back, to settle up my +father’s estate.”</p> +<p>“What did you run away for?” inquired +David.</p> +<p>“Combination of too much stepmother and a +roving spirit, I guess. Here we are.”</p> +<p>He sprang on the platform of the shanty boat +and helped David on board. The boy inspected +this novel house in wonder while his host set +saucers and spoons on the table.</p> +<p>“Would you mind,” asked David in an embarrassed +manner as he wistfully eyed the coveted +luxury, “if I took my dishful home?”</p> +<p>“What’s the matter?” asked Forbes, his eyes +twinkling. “Eaten too much already?”</p> +<p>“No; but you see my mother likes it and she +hasn’t had any since last summer. I’d rather +take mine to her.”</p> +<p>“There’s plenty left for your mother. I’ll +put this pail in a bigger one and pack ice about +it. Then it won’t melt.”</p> +<p>“But you paid me for it,” protested David.</p> +<p>“That’s all right. Your mother was pretty +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24' name='page_24'></a>24</span> +good to me when I was a boy. She dried my +mop of hair for me once so my stepmother would +not know I’d been in swimming. Tell her I sent +the cream to her. Say, you were right about +Miss M’ri making the best cream in the country. +It used to be a chronic pastime with her. That’s +how I guessed what you had when you said you +came from there. Whenever there was a picnic +or a surprise party in the country she always +furnished the ice cream. Isn’t she married yet?”</p> +<p>“No.”</p> +<p>“Doesn’t she keep company with some lucky +man?”</p> +<p>“No,” again denied the boy emphatically.</p> +<p>“What’s the matter? She used to be awfully +pretty and sweet.”</p> +<p>“She is now, but she don’t want any man.”</p> +<p>“Well, now, David, that isn’t quite natural, +you know. Why do you think she doesn’t want +one?”</p> +<p>“I heard say she was crossed once.”</p> +<p>“Crossed, David? And what might that be?” +asked Forbes in a delighted feint of perplexity.</p> +<p>“Disappointed in love, you know.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25' name='page_25'></a>25</span></p> +<p>“Yes; it all comes back now––the gossip of +my boyhood days. She was going with a man +when Barnabas’ wife died and left two children––one +a baby––and Miss M’ri gave up her lover +to do her duty by her brother’s family. So +Barnabas never married again?”</p> +<p>“No; Miss M’ri keeps house and brings up +Jud and Janey.”</p> +<p>“I remember Jud––mean little shaver. Janey +must be the baby.”</p> +<p>“She’s eight now.”</p> +<p>“I remember you, David. You were a little +toddler of four––all eyes. Your folks had a +place right on the edge of town.”</p> +<p>“We left it when I was six years old and came +out here,” informed David.</p> +<p>Forbes’ groping memory recalled the gossip +that had reached him in the Far West. “Dunne +went to prison,” he mused, “and the farm was +mortgaged to defray the expenses of the trial.” +He hastened back to a safer channel.</p> +<p>“Miss M’ri was foolish to spoil her life and +the man’s for fancied duty,” he observed.</p> +<p>David bridled. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26' name='page_26'></a>26</span></p> +<p>“Barnabas couldn’t go to school when he was +a boy because he had to work so she and the other +children could go. She’d ought to have stood +by him.”</p> +<p>“I see you have a sense of duty, too. This +county was always strong on duty. I suppose +they’ve got it in for me because I ran away?”</p> +<p>“Mr. Brumble says it was a wise thing for you +to do. Uncle Larimy says you were a brick of +a boy. Miss Rhody says she had no worry about +her woodpile getting low when you were here.”</p> +<p>“Poor Miss Rhody! Does she still live alone? +And Uncle Larimy––is he uncle to the whole +community? What fishing days I had with +him! I must look him up and tell him all my +adventures. I have planned a round of calls +for to-night––Miss M’ri, Miss Rhody, Uncle +Larimy––”</p> +<p>“Tell me about your adventures,” demanded +David breathlessly.</p> +<p>He listened to a wondrous tale of western life, +and never did narrator get into so close relation +with his auditor as did this young ranchman with +David Dunne. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27' name='page_27'></a>27</span></p> +<p>“I must go home,” said the boy reluctantly +when Joe had concluded.</p> +<p>“Come down to-morrow, David, and we’ll go +fishing.”</p> +<p>“All right. Thank you, sir.”</p> +<p>With heart as light as air, David sped through +the woods. He had found his Hero. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28' name='page_28'></a>28</span></p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.3em;margin-bottom:40px; margin-top:70px;;'>CHAPTER II</p> +<p>David struck out from the shelter of the +woodland and made his way to his home, +a pathetically small, rudely constructed house. +The patch of land supposed to be a garden, and +in proportion to the dimensions of the building, +showed a few feeble efforts at vegetation. It +was not positively known that the Widow Dunne +had a clear title to her homestead, but one would +as soon think of foreclosing a mortgage on a +playhouse, or taking a nest from a bird, as to +press any claim on this fallow fragment in the +midst of prosperous farmlands.</p> +<p>Some discouraged looking fowls picked at the +scant grass, a lean cow switched a lackadaisical +tail, and in a pen a pig grunted his discontent.</p> +<p>David went into the little kitchen, where a +woman was bending wearily over a washtub.</p> +<p>“Mother,” cried the boy in dismay, “you said +you’d let the washing go till to-morrow. That’s +why I didn’t come right back.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29' name='page_29'></a>29</span></p> +<p>She paused in the rubbing of a soaped garment +and wrung the suds from her tired and +swollen hands.</p> +<p>“I felt better, David, and I thought I’d get +them ready for you to hang out.”</p> +<p>David took the garment from her.</p> +<p>“Sit down and eat this ice cream Miss M’ri +sent––no, I mean Joe Forbes sent you. There +was more, but I sold it for half a dollar; and +here’s a pail of eggs and a drawing of tea she +wants you to sample. She says she is no judge +of black tea.”</p> +<p>“Joe Forbes!” exclaimed his mother interestedly. +“I thought maybe he would be coming +back to look after the estate. Is he going to +stay?”</p> +<p>“I’ll tell you all about him, mother, if you +will sit down.”</p> +<p>He began a vigorous turning of the wringer.</p> +<p>The patient, tired-looking eyes of the woman +brightened as she dished out a saucer of the +cream. The weariness in the sensitive lines of her +face and the prominence of her knuckles bore +evidence of a life of sordid struggle, but, above +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30' name='page_30'></a>30</span> +all, the mother love illumined her features with a +flash of radiance.</p> +<p>“You’re a good provider, David; but tell me +where you have been for so long, and where did +you see Joe?”</p> +<p>He gave her a faithful account of his dinner +at the Brumble farm and his subsequent meeting +with Joe, working the wringer steadily as he +talked.</p> +<p>“There!” he exclaimed with a sigh of satisfaction, +“they are ready for the line, but before I +hang them out I am going to cook your dinner.”</p> +<p>“I am rested now, David. I will cook me an +egg.”</p> +<p>“No, I will,” insisted the boy, going to the +stove.</p> +<p>A few moments later, with infinite satisfaction, +he watched her partake of crisp toast, fresh +eggs, and savory tea.</p> +<p>“Did you see Jud and Janey?” she asked suddenly.</p> +<p>“No; they were at school.”</p> +<p>“David, you shall go regularly to school next +fall.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31' name='page_31'></a>31</span></p> +<p>“No,” said David stoutly; “next fall I am going +to work regularly for some of the farmers, +and you are not going to wash any more.”</p> +<p>Her eyes grew moist.</p> +<p>“David, will you always be good––will you +grow up to be as good a man as I want you to +be?”</p> +<p>“How good do you want me to be?” he asked +dubiously.</p> +<p>A radiant and tender smile played about her +mouth.</p> +<p>“Not goodygood, David; but will you always +be honest, and brave, and kind, as you are now?”</p> +<p>“I’ll try, mother.”</p> +<p>“And never forget those who do you a kindness, +David; always show your gratitude.”</p> +<p>“Yes, mother.”</p> +<p>“And, David, watch your temper and, whatever +happens, I shall have no fears for your +future.”</p> +<p>His mother seldom talked to him in this wise. +He thought about it after he lay in his little cot +in the sitting room that night; then his mind +wandered to Joe Forbes and his wonderful tales +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32' name='page_32'></a>32</span> +of the West. He fell asleep to dream of cowboys +and prairies. When he awoke the sun was +sending golden beams through the eastward +window.</p> +<p>“Mother isn’t up,” he thought in surprise. He +stole quietly out to the kitchen, kindled a fire +with as little noise as possible, put the kettle +over, set the table, and then went into the one +tiny bedroom where his mother lay in her bed, +still––very still.</p> +<p>“Mother,” he said softly.</p> +<p>There was no response.</p> +<p>“Mother,” he repeated. Then piercingly, in +excitement and fear, “Mother!”</p> +<p>At last he knew.</p> +<p>He ran wildly to the outer door. Bill Winters, +fortunately sober, was driving slowly by.</p> +<p>“Bill!”</p> +<p>“What’s the matter, Dave?” looking into the +boy’s white face. “Your ma ain’t sick, is she?”</p> +<p>David’s lips quivered, but seemed almost unable +to articulate.</p> +<p>“She’s dead,” he finally whispered.</p> +<p>“I’ll send Zine right over,” exclaimed Bill, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33' name='page_33'></a>33</span> +slapping the reins briskly across the drooping +neck of his horse.</p> +<p>Very soon the little house was filled to overflowing +with kind and sympathetic neighbors +who had come to do all that had to be done. +David sat on the back doorstep until M’ri came; +before the expression in his eyes she felt powerless +to comfort him.</p> +<p>“The doctor says your mother died in her +sleep,” she told him. “She didn’t suffer any.”</p> +<p>He made no reply. Oppressed by the dull +pain for which there is no ease, he wandered from +the house to the garden, and from the garden +back to the house throughout the day. At sunset +Barnabas drove over.</p> +<p>“I shall stay here to-night, Barnabas,” said +M’ri, “but I want you to drive back and get some +things. I’ve made out a list. Janey will know +where to find them.”</p> +<p>“Sha’n’t I take Dave back to stay to-night?” +he suggested.</p> +<p>M’ri hesitated, and looked at David.</p> +<p>“No,” he said dully, following Barnabas listlessly +down the path to the road. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34' name='page_34'></a>34</span></p> +<p>Barnabas, keen, shrewd, and sharp at a bargain, +had a heart that ever softened to motherless +children.</p> +<p>“Dave,” he said gently, “your ma won’t never +hev to wash no more, and she’ll never be sick nor +tired agen.”</p> +<p>It was the first leaven to his loss, and he held +tight to the horny hand of his comforter. After +Barnabas had driven away there came trudging +down the road the little, lithe figure of an old +man, who was carrying a large box. His mildly +blue, inquiring eyes looked out from beneath +their hedge of shaggy eyebrows. His hair and +his beard were thick and bushy. Joe Forbes +maintained that Uncle Larimy would look +no different if his head were turned upside +down.</p> +<p>“David,” he said softly, “I’ve brung yer ma +some posies. She liked my yaller roses, you +know. I’m sorry my laylocks are gone. They +come early this year.”</p> +<p>“Thank you, Uncle Larimy.”</p> +<p>A choking sensation warned David to say no +more. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35' name='page_35'></a>35</span></p> +<p>“Things go ’skew sometimes, Dave, but the sun +will shine agen,” reminded the old man, as he +went on into the house.</p> +<p>Later, when sundown shadows had vanished +and the first glimmer of the stars radiated from +a pale sky, Joe came over. David felt no thrill +at sight of his hero. The halo was gone. He +only remembered with a dull ache that the half +dollar had brought his mother none of the luxuries +he had planned to buy for her.</p> +<p>“David,” said the young ranchman, his deep +voice softened, “my mother died when I was +younger than you are, but you won’t have a stepmother +to make life unbearable for you.”</p> +<p>The boy looked at him with inscrutable eyes.</p> +<p>“Don’t you want to go back with me to the +ranch, David? You can learn to ride and shoot.”</p> +<p>David shook his head forlornly. His spirit of +adventure was smothered.</p> +<p>“We’ll talk about it again, David,” he said, +as he went in to consult M’ri.</p> +<p>“Don’t you think the only thing for the boy +to do is to go back with me? I am going to buy +the ranch on which I’ve been foreman, and I’ll +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36' name='page_36'></a>36</span> +try to do for David all that should have been +done for me when I, at his age, felt homeless and +alone. He’s the kind that takes things hard and +quiet; life in the open will pull him up.”</p> +<p>“No, Joe,” replied M’ri resolutely. “He’s not +ready for that kind of life yet. He needs to +be with women and children a while longer. +Barnabas and I are going to take him. Barnabas +suggested it, and I told Mrs. Dunne one day, +when her burdens were getting heavy, that we +would do so if anything like this should happen.”</p> +<p>Joe looked at her with revering eyes.</p> +<p>“Miss M’ri, you are so good to other people’s +children, what would you be to your own!”</p> +<p>The passing of M’ri’s youth had left a faint +flush of prettiness like the afterglow of a sunset +faded into twilight. She was of the kind that +old age would never wither. In the deep blue +eyes was a patient, reflective look that told of a +past but unforgotten romance. She turned from +his gaze, but not before he had seen the wistfulness +his speech had evoked. After he had gone, +she sought David.</p> +<p>“I am going to stay here with you, David, for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37' name='page_37'></a>37</span> +two or three days. Then Barnabas and I want +you to come to live with us. I had a long talk +with your mother one day, and I told her if anything +happened to her you should be our boy. +That made her less anxious about the future, +David. Will you come?”</p> +<p>The boy looked up with his first gleam of interest +in mundane things.</p> +<p>“I’d like it, but would––Jud?”</p> +<p>“I am afraid Jud doesn’t like anything, +David,” she replied with a sigh. “That’s one +reason I want you––to be a big brother to Janey, +for I think that is what she needs, and what Jud +can never be.”</p> +<p>The boy remembered what his mother had +counseled.</p> +<p>“I’ll always take care of Janey,” he earnestly +assured her.</p> +<p>“I know you will, David.”</p> +<p>Two dreary days passed in the way that such +days do pass, and then David rode to his new +home with Barnabas and M’ri.</p> +<p>Jud Brumble, a refractory, ungovernable lad +of fifteen, didn’t look altogether unfavorably +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38' name='page_38'></a>38</span> +upon the addition to the household, knowing that +his amount of work would thereby be lessened, +and that he would have a new victim for his persecutions +and tyrannies.</p> +<p>Janey, a little rosebud of a girl with dimples +and flaxen curls, hung back shyly and looked at +David with awed eyes. She had been frightened +by what she had heard about his mother, and in a +vague, disconnected way she associated him with +Death. M’ri went to the child’s bedside that +night and explained the situation. “Poor Davey +is all alone, now, and very unhappy, so we must +be kind to him. I told him you were to be his +little sister.”</p> +<p>Then M’ri took David to a gabled room, at +each end of which was a swinging window––“one +for seeing the sun rise, and one for seeing it set,” +she said, as she turned back the covers from the +spotless white bed. She yearned to console him, +but before the mute look of grief in his big eyes +she was silent.</p> +<p>“I wish he would cry,” she said wistfully to +Barnabas, “he hasn’t shed a tear since his mother +died.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39' name='page_39'></a>39</span></p> +<p>No sooner had the sound of her footsteps +ceased than David threw off his armor of self-restraint +and burst into a passion of sobs, the +wilder for their long repression. He didn’t hear +the patter of little feet on the floor, and not until +two mothering arms were about his neck did he +see the white-robed figure of Janey.</p> +<p>“Don’t cry, Davey,” she implored, her quivering +red mouth against his cheek. “I’m sorry; +but I am your little sister now, so you must love +me, Davey. Aunt M’ri told me so.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40' name='page_40'></a>40</span></p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.3em;margin-bottom:40px; margin-top:70px;;'>CHAPTER III</p> +<p>The lilac-scented breeze of early morning +blowing softly through the vine-latticed +window and stirring its white draperies brought +David to wakefulness. With the first surprise +at the strangeness of his surroundings came a +fluttering of memory. The fragrance of lilacs +was always hereafter to bring back the awfulness +of this waking moment.</p> +<p>He hurriedly dressed, and went down to the +kitchen where M’ri was preparing breakfast.</p> +<p>“Good morning, David. Janey has gone to +find some fresh eggs. You may help her hunt +them, if you will.”</p> +<p>Knowing the haunts of hens, he went toward +the currant bushes. It was one of those soft +days that link late spring and dawning summer. +The coolness of the sweet-odored air, the twitter +of numberless dawn birds, the entreating lowing +of distant cattle––all breathing life and strength––were +like a resurrection call to David. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41' name='page_41'></a>41</span></p> +<p>On the east porch, which was his retreat for a +smoke or a rest between the intervals of choring +and meals, Barnabas sat, securely wedged in by +the washing machine, the refrigerator, the plant +stand, the churn, the kerosene can, and the lawn +mower. He gazed reflectively after David.</p> +<p>“What are you going to hev Dave do to help, +M’ri?”</p> +<p>M’ri came to the door and considered a moment.</p> +<p>“First of all, Barnabas, I am going to have +him eat. He is so thin and hungry looking.”</p> +<p>Barnabas chuckled. His sister’s happiest mission +was the feeding of hungry children.</p> +<p>After breakfast, when Janey’s rebellious +curls were again being brushed into shape, M’ri +told David he could go to school if he liked. To +her surprise the boy flushed and looked uncomfortable. +M’ri’s intuitions were quick and generally +correct.</p> +<p>“It’s so near the end of the term, though,” +she added casually, as an afterthought, “that +maybe you had better wait until next fall to +start in.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42' name='page_42'></a>42</span></p> +<p>“Yes, please, Miss M’ri, I’d rather,” he said +quickly and gratefully.</p> +<p>When Janey, dinner pail in hand and books +under arm, was ready to start, David asked in +surprise where Jud was.</p> +<p>“Oh, he has gone long ago. He thinks he is +too big to walk with Janey.”</p> +<p>David quietly took the pail and books from +the little girl.</p> +<p>“I’ll take you to school, Janey, and come for +you this afternoon.”</p> +<p>“We won’t need to git no watch dog to foller +Janey,” said Barnabas, as the children started +down the path.</p> +<p>“David,” called M’ri, “stop at Miss Rhody’s +on your way back and find out whether my waist +is finished.”</p> +<p>With proudly protective air, David walked +beside the stiffly starched little girl, who had +placed her hand trustfully in his. They had +gone but a short distance when they were overtaken +by Joe Forbes, mounted on a shining black +horse. He reined up and looked down on them +good-humoredly.</p> +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_3' id='linki_3'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-042.jpg' alt='' title='' width='377' height='531' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +“<i>With proudly protective air, David walked beside the stiffly starched little girl</i>”<br /> +</p> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43' name='page_43'></a>43</span></div> +<p>“Going to school, children?”</p> +<p>“I am. Davey’s just going to carry my +things for me,” explained Janey.</p> +<p>“Well, I can do that and carry you into the +bargain. Help her up, David.”</p> +<p>Janey cried out in delight at the prospect of a +ride. David lifted her up, and Joe settled her +comfortably in the saddle, encircling her with +his arm. Then he looked down whimsically into +David’s disappointed eyes.</p> +<p>“I know it’s a mean trick, Dave, to take your +little sweetheart from you.”</p> +<p>“She’s not my sweetheart; she’s my sister.”</p> +<p>“Has she promised to be that already? Get +up, Firefly.”</p> +<p>They were off over the smooth country road, +Forbes shouting a bantering good-by and Janey +waving a triumphant dinner pail, while David, +trudging on his way, experienced the desolate +feeling of the one who is left behind. Across +fields he came to the tiny, thatched cottage of +Miss Rhody Crabbe, who stood on the crumbling +doorstep feeding some little turkeys.</p> +<p>“Come in, David. I suppose you’re after +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44' name='page_44'></a>44</span> +M’ri’s waist. Thar’s jest a few stitches to take, +and I’ll hev it done in no time.”</p> +<p>He followed her into the little house, which +consisted of a sitting room “with bedroom off,” +and a kitchen whose floor was sand scoured; the +few pieces of tinware could be used as mirrors. +Miss Rhody seated herself by the open window +and began to ply her needle. She did not sew +swiftly and smoothly, in feminine fashion, but +drew her long-threaded needle through the fabric +in abrupt and forceful jerks. A light breeze +fluttered in through the window, but it could not +ruffle the wisp-locked hair that showed traces of +a water-dipped comb and was strained back so +taut that a little mound of flesh encircled each +root. Her eyes were bead bright and swift moving. +Everything about her, to the aggressively +prominent knuckles, betokened energy and industry. +She was attired in a blue calico shortened +by many washings, but scrupulously clean +and conscientiously starched. Her face shone +with soap and serenity.</p> +<p>Miss Rhody’s one diversion in a busy but +monotonous life was news. She was wretched if +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45' name='page_45'></a>45</span> +she did not receive the latest bulletins; but it +was to her credit that she never repeated anything +that might work harm or mischief. David +was one of her chosen confidants. He was a +safe repository of secrets, a sympathetic listener, +and a wise suggester.</p> +<p>“I’m glad M’ri’s hevin’ a blue waist. She +looks so sweet in blue. I’ve made her clo’es fer +years. My, how I hoped fer to make her weddin’ +clo’es onct! It wuz a shame to hev sech a +good match spiled. It wuz too bad she hed to +hev them two chillern on her hands––”</p> +<p>“And now she has a third,” was what David +thought he read in her eyes, and he hastened to +assert: “I am going to help all I can, and I’ll +soon be old enough to take care of myself.”</p> +<p>“Land sakes, David, you’d be wuth more’n +yer keep to any one. I wonder,” she said ruminatingly, +“if Martin Thorne will wait for her +till Janey’s growed up.”</p> +<p>“Martin Thorne!” exclaimed David excitedly. +“Judge Thorne? Why, was he the one––”</p> +<p>“He spent his Sunday evenings with her,” she +asserted solemnly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46' name='page_46'></a>46</span></p> +<p>In the country code of courtships this procedure +was conclusive proof, and David accepted +it as such.</p> +<p>“He wuz jest plain Lawyer Thorne when he +wuz keepin’ company with M’ri, but we all knew +Mart wuz a comin’ man, and M’ri wuz jest proud +of him. You could see that, and he wuz sot on +her.”</p> +<p>Her work momentarily neglected, Rhody was +making little reminiscent stabs at space with her +needle as she spoke.</p> +<p>“’T wuz seven years ago. M’ri wuz twenty-eight +and Mart ten years older. It would hev +ben a match as sure as preachin’, but Eliza died +and M’ri, she done her duty as she seen it. Sometimes +I think folks is near-sighted about their +duty. There is others as is queer-sighted. Bein’ +crossed hain’t spiled M’ri though. She’s kep’ +sweet through it all, but when a man don’t git +his own way, he’s apt to curdle. Mart got sort +of tart-tongued and cold feelin’. There wa’n’t +no reason why they couldn’t a kep’ on bein’ +friends, but Mart must go and make a fool vow +that he’d never speak to M’ri until she sent him +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47' name='page_47'></a>47</span> +word she’d changed her mind, so he hez ben +a-spitin’ of his face ever sence. It’s wonderful +how some folks do git in their own way, but, my +sakes, I must git to work so you kin take this +waist home.”</p> +<p>This was David’s first glimpse of a romance +outside of story-books, but the name of Martin +Thorne evoked disturbing memories. Six years +ago he had acted as attorney to David’s father +in settling his financial difficulties, and later, +after Peter Dunne’s death, the Judge had settled +the small estate. It was only through his efforts +that they were enabled to have the smallest of +roofs over their defenseless heads.</p> +<p>“Miss Rhody,” he asked after a long meditation +on life in general, “why didn’t you ever +marry?”</p> +<p>Miss Rhody paused again in her work, and +two little spots of red crept into her cheeks.</p> +<p>“’Tain’t from ch’ice I’ve lived single, David. +I’ve ben able to take keer of myself, but I allers +hed a hankerin’ same as any woman, as is a woman, +hez fer a man, but I never got no chanst to +meet men folks. I wuz raised here, and folks +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48' name='page_48'></a>48</span> +allers hed it all cut out fer me to be an old maid. +When a woman onct gets that name fixt on her, +it’s all off with her chances. No man ever comes +nigh her, and she can’t git out of her single rut. +I never could get to go nowhars, and I wa’n’t +that bold kind that makes up to a man fust, afore +he gives a sign.”</p> +<p>David pondered over this wistful revelation +for a few moments, seeking a means for her +seemingly hopeless escape from a life of single +blessedness, for David was a sympathetic young +altruist, and felt it incumbent upon him to lift +the burdens of his neighbors. Then he suggested +encouragingly:</p> +<p>“Miss Rhody, did you know that there was a +paper that gets you acquainted with men? +That’s the way they say Zine Winters got +married.”</p> +<p>“Yes, and look what she drawed!” she scoffed. +“Bill! I don’t know how they’d live if Zine +hadn’t a-gone in heavy on hens and turkeys. +She hez to spend her hull time a-traipsin’ after +them turkeys, and thar ain’t nuthin’ that’s given +to gaddin’ like turkeys that I know on, less ’t is +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49' name='page_49'></a>49</span> +Chubbses’ hired gal. No, David, it’s chance +enough when you git a man you’ve knowed +allers, but a stranger! Well! I want to know +what I’m gittin’. Thar, the last stitch in M’ri’s +waist is took, and, David, you won’t tell no one +what I said about Mart Thorne and her, nor +about my gittin’ merried?”</p> +<p>David gave her a reproachful look, and she +laughed shamefacedly.</p> +<p>“I know, David, you kin keep a secret. It’s +like buryin’ a thing to tell it to you. My, this +waist’ll look fine on M’ri. I jest love the feel +of silk. I’d ruther hev a black silk dress than––”</p> +<p>“A husband,” prompted David slyly.</p> +<p>“David Dunne, I’ll box yer ears if you ever +think again of what I said. I am allers a-thinkin’ +of you as if you wuz a stiddy grown man, +and then fust thing I know you’re nuthin’ but +a teasin’ boy. Here’s the bundle, and don’t you +want a nutcake, David?”</p> +<p>“No, thank you, Miss Rhody. I ate a big +breakfast.”</p> +<p>A fellow feeling had prompted David even in +his hungriest days to refrain from accepting Miss +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50' name='page_50'></a>50</span> +Rhody’s proffers of hospitality. He knew the +emptiness of her larder, for though she had been +thrifty and hard-working, she had paid off a +mortgage and had made good the liabilities of +an erring nephew.</p> +<p>When David returned he found Miss M’ri in +the dairy. It was churning day, and she was +arranging honey-scented, rose-stamped pats of +butter on moist leaves of crisp lettuce.</p> +<p>“David,” she asked, looking up with a winning +smile, “will you tell me why you didn’t +want to go to school?”</p> +<p>The boy’s face reddened, but his eyes looked +frankly into hers.</p> +<p>“Yes, Miss M’ri.”</p> +<p>“Before you tell me, David,” she interposed, +“I want you to remember that, from now on, +Barnabas and I are your uncle and aunt.”</p> +<p>“Well, then, Aunt M’ri,” began David, a ring +of tremulous eagerness in his voice, “I can read +and write and spell, but I don’t know much +about arithmetic and geography. I was ashamed +to start in at the baby class. I thought I’d +try and study out of Jud’s books this summer.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51' name='page_51'></a>51</span></p> +<p>“That’s a good idea, David. We’ll begin +now. You’ll find an elementary geography in +the sitting room on the shelf, and you may +study the first lesson. This afternoon, when my +work is done, I’ll hear you recite it.”</p> +<p>David took the book and went out into the old +orchard. When M’ri went to call him to dinner +he was sprawled out in the latticed shadow of +an apple tree, completely absorbed in the book.</p> +<p>“You have spent two hours on your first +lesson, David. You ought to have it well +learned.”</p> +<p>He looked at her in surprise.</p> +<p>“I read the whole book through, Aunt M’ri.”</p> +<p>“Oh, David,” she expostulated, “that’s the +way Barnabas takes his medicine. Instead of +the prescribed dose after each meal he takes +three doses right after breakfast––so as to get +it off his mind and into his system, he says. +We’ll just have one short lesson in geography +and one in arithmetic each day. You mustn’t +do things in leaps. It’s the steady dog trot +that lasts, and counts on the long journey.”</p> +<p>When David was on his way to bring Janey +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52' name='page_52'></a>52</span> +from school that afternoon he was again overtaken +by Joe Forbes.</p> +<p>“Dave, I am going to Chicago in a few days, +and I shall stop there long enough to buy a few +presents to send back to some of my friends. +Here’s my list. Let me see, Uncle Larimy, a +new-fangled fishing outfit; Barnabas, a pipe; +Miss M’ri––guess, Dave.”</p> +<p>“You’re the guesser, you know,” reminded +David.</p> +<p>“It’s a new kind of ice-cream freezer, of +course.”</p> +<p>“She’s going to freeze ice to-night,” recalled +David anticipatingly.</p> +<p>“Freeze ice! What a paradoxical process! +But what I want you to suggest is something for +Miss Rhody––something very nice.”</p> +<p>“What she wants most is something you can’t +get her,” thought David, looking up with a tantalizing +little smile. Then her second wish occurred +to him.</p> +<p>“I know something she wants dreadfully; +something she never expects to have.”</p> +<p>“That is just what I want to get for her.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span></p> +<p>“It’ll cost a lot.”</p> +<p>Joe disposed of that consideration by a munificent +wave of the hand.</p> +<p>“What is it?”</p> +<p>“A black silk dress,” informed the boy delightedly.</p> +<p>“She shall have it. How many yards does it +take, I wonder?”</p> +<p>“We can ask Janey’s teacher when we get to +school,” suggested the boy.</p> +<p>“So we can. I contrived to find out that +Janey’s heart is set on a string of beads––blue +beads. I suppose, to be decent, I shall have to +include Jud. What will it be?”</p> +<p>“He wants a gun. He’s a good shot, too.”</p> +<p>They loitered on the way, discussing Joe’s +gifts, until they met Janey and Little Teacher +coming toward them hand in hand. David +quickly secured the pail and books before Joe +could appropriate them. He wasn’t going to +be cut out a second time in one day.</p> +<p>“Miss Williams,” asked the young ranchman, +“will your knowledge of mathematics tell me how +many yards of black silk I must get to make a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54' name='page_54'></a>54</span> +dress, and what kind of fixings I shall need for +it?”</p> +<p>“You don’t have to know,” she replied. “Just +go into any department store and tell them you +want a dress pattern and the findings. They +will do the rest.”</p> +<p>“Shopping made easy. You shall have your +reward now. My shanty boat is just about opposite +here. Suppose the four of us go down +to the river and have supper on board?”</p> +<p>Little Teacher, to whom life was a vista of +blackboards dotted with vacations, thought this +would be delightful. A passing child was made +a messenger to the farm, and they continued +their way woodward to the river, where the +shanty boat was anchored. Little Teacher set the +table, Joe prepared the meal, while David sat +out on deck, beguiling Janey with wonderful +stories.</p> +<p>“This seems beautifully domestic to a cowboy,” +sighed Joe, looking around the supper table, his +gaze lingering on Little Teacher, who was dimpling +happily. Imaginative David proceeded to +weave his third romance that day, with a glad +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55' name='page_55'></a>55</span> +little beating of the heart, for he had feared that +Joe might be planning to wait for Janey, as the +Judge was doubtless waiting for M’ri.</p> +<p>The children went directly home after supper, +Joe accompanying Little Teacher. Despite the +keenness of David’s sorrow the day had been a +peaceful, contented one, but when the shadows +began to lengthen to that most lonesome hour of +lonesome days, when from home-coming cows +comes the sound of tinkling bells, a wave of longing +swept over him, and he stole away to the orchard. +Again, a soft, sustaining little hand crept +into his.</p> +<p>“Don’t, Davey,” pleaded a caressing voice, +“don’t make me cry.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56' name='page_56'></a>56</span></p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.3em;margin-bottom:40px; margin-top:70px;;'>CHAPTER IV</p> +<p>Outside of the time allotted for the performance +of a wholesome amount of farm +work and the preparation of his daily lessons, +David was free for diversions which had hitherto +entered sparingly into his life. After school hours +and on Saturdays the Barnabas farm was the +general rendezvous for all the children within a +three-mile radius. The old woods by the river +rang with the gay treble of childish laughter and +the ecstatic barking of dogs dashing in frantic +pursuit. There was always an open sesame to +the cookie jar and the apple barrel.</p> +<p>David suffered the common fate of all in having +a dark cloud. Jud was the dark cloud, and +his silver lining had not yet materialized.</p> +<p>In height and physical strength Jud was the +superior, so he delighted in taunting and goading +the younger boy. There finally came a day +when instinctive self-respect upheld David in +no longer resisting the call to arms. Knowing +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57' name='page_57'></a>57</span> +Barnabas’ disapproval of fighting, and with his +mother’s parting admonition pricking his conscience, +he went into battle reluctantly and half-heartedly, +so the fight was not prolonged, and +Jud’s victory came easily. Barnabas, hurrying +to the scene of action, called Jud off and reprimanded +him for fighting a smaller boy, which +hurt David far more than did the pummeling he +had received.</p> +<p>“What wuz you fighting fer, anyway?” he demanded +of David.</p> +<p>“Nothing,” replied David laconically, “just +fighting.”</p> +<p>“Jud picks on Davey all the time,” was the information +furnished by the indignant Janey, who +had followed her father.</p> +<p>“Well, I forbid either one of you to fight again. +Now, Jud, see that you leave Dave alone after +this.”</p> +<p>Emboldened by his easily won conquest and +David’s apparent lack of prowess, Jud continued +his jeering and nagging, but David set his lips +in a taut line of finality and endured in silence +until there came the taunt superlative. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58' name='page_58'></a>58</span></p> +<p>“Your mother was a washerwoman, and your +father a convict.”</p> +<p>There surged through David a fierce animal +hate. With a tight closing of his hardy young +fist, he rushed to the onslaught so swiftly and so +impetuously that Jud recoiled in fear and surprise. +With his first tiger-like leap David had +the older boy by the throat and bore him to the +ground, maintaining and tightening his grip as +they went down.</p> +<p>“I’ll kill you!”</p> +<p>David’s voice was steady and calm, but the +boy on the ground underneath felt the very hairs +of his head rising at the look in the dark eyes +above his own.</p> +<p>Fortunately for both of them Barnabas was +again at hand.</p> +<p>He jerked David to his feet.</p> +<p>“Fightin’ again, are you, after I told you not +to!”</p> +<p>“It was him, David, that began it. I never +struck him,” whimpered Jud, edging away behind +his father.</p> +<p>“Did you, David?” asked Barnabas bluntly, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59' name='page_59'></a>59</span> +still keeping his hold on the boy, who was quivering +with passion.</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>His voice sounded odd and tired, and there +was an ache of bafflement in his young eyes.</p> +<p>“What fer? What did he do to make you so +mad?”</p> +<p>“He said my mother was a washerwoman +and my father a convict! Let me go! I’ll kill +him!”</p> +<p>With a returning rush of his passion, David +struggled in the man’s grasp.</p> +<p>“Wait, Dave, I’ll tend to him. Go to the +barn, Jud!” he commanded his son.</p> +<p>Jud quailed before this new, strange note in +his father’s voice.</p> +<p>“David was fighting. You said neither of us +was to fight. ’T ain’t fair to take it out on me.”</p> +<p>Fairness was one of Barnabas’ fixed and prominent +qualities, but Jud was not to gain favor +by it this time.</p> +<p>“Well, you don’t suppose I’m a-goin’ to lick +Dave fer defendin’ his parents, do you? Besides, +I’m not a-goin’ to lick you fer fightin’, but fer +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span> +sayin’ what you did. I guess you’d hev found +out that Dave could wallop you ef he is smaller +and younger.”</p> +<p>“He can’t!” snarled Jud. “I didn’t have no +show. He came at me by surprise.”</p> +<p>Barnabas reflected a moment. Then he said +gravely:</p> +<p>“When it’s in the blood of two fellers to fight, +why thar’s got to be a fight, that’s all. Thar +won’t never be no peace until this ere question’s +settled. Dave, do you still want to fight him?”</p> +<p>A fierce aftermath of passion gleamed in +David’s eyes.</p> +<p>“Yes!” he cried, his nostrils quivering.</p> +<p>“And you’ll fight fair? Jest to punish––with +no thought of killin’?”</p> +<p>“I’ll fight fair,” agreed the boy.</p> +<p>“I’ll see that you do. Come here, Jud.”</p> +<p>“I don’t want to fight,” protested Jud sullenly.</p> +<p>“He’s afraid,” said David gleefully, every +muscle quivering and straining.</p> +<p>“I ain’t!” yelled Jud.</p> +<p>“Come on, then,” challenged David, a fierce +joy tugging at his heart. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span></p> +<p>Jud came with deliberate precision and a swing +of his left. He was heavier and harder, but +David was more agile, and his whole heart +was in the fight this time. They clutched and +grappled and parried, and finally went down; +first one was on top, then the other. It was the +wage of brute force against elasticity; bluster +against valor. Jud fought in fear; David, in +ferocity. At last David bore his oppressor backward +and downward. Jud, exhausted, ceased to +struggle.</p> +<p>“Thar!” exclaimed Barnabas, drawing a relieved +breath. “I guess you know how you stand +now, and we’ll all feel better. You’ve got all +that’s comin’ to you, Jud, without no more from +me. You can both go to the house and wash +up.”</p> +<p>Uncle Larimy had arrived at the finish of the +fight.</p> +<p>“What’s the trouble, Barnabas?” he asked interestedly, +as the boys walked away.</p> +<p>The explanation was given, but they spoke in +tones so low that David could not overhear any +part of the conversation from the men following +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62' name='page_62'></a>62</span> +him until, as they neared the house, Uncle Larimy +said: “I was afeerd Dave hed his pa’s temper +snoozin’ inside him. Mebby he’d orter be told +fer a warnin’.”</p> +<p>“I don’t want to say nuthin’ about it less I hev +to. I’ll wait till the next time he loses his +temper.”</p> +<p>David ducked his head in the wash basin on +the bench outside the door. After supper, when +Barnabas came out on the back porch for his +hour of pipe, he called his young charge to him. +Since the fight, David’s face had worn a subdued +but contented expression.</p> +<p>“Looks,” thought Barnabas, “kinder eased off, +like a dog when he licks his chops arter the taste +of blood has been drawed.”</p> +<p>“Set down, Dave. I want to talk to you. You +done right to fight fer yer folks, and you’re a +good fighter, which every boy orter be, but when +I come up to you and Jud I see that in yer face +that I didn’t know was in you. You’ve got an +orful temper, Dave. It’s a good thing to hev––a +mighty good thing, if you kin take keer of it, +but if you let it go it’s what leads to murder. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63' name='page_63'></a>63</span> +Your pa hed the same kind of let-loose temper +that got him into heaps of trouble.”</p> +<p>“What did my father do?” he asked abruptly.</p> +<p>Instinctively he had shrunk from asking his +mother this question, and pride had forbidden his +seeking the knowledge elsewhere.</p> +<p>“Some day, when you are older, you will know +all about it. But remember, when any one says +anything like what Jud did, that yer ma wouldn’t +want fer you to hev thoughts of killin’. You +see, you fought jest as well––probably better––when +you hed cooled off a mite and hed promised +to fight fair. And ef you can’t wrastle your +temper and down it as you did Jud, you’re not +a fust-class fighter.”</p> +<p>“I’ll try,” said David slowly, unable, however, +to feel much remorse for his outbreak.</p> +<p>“Jud’ll let you alone arter this. You’d better +go to bed now. You need a little extry sleep.”</p> +<p>M’ri came into his room when he was trying to +mend a long rent in his shirt. He flushed uncomfortably +when her eye fell on the garment. +She took it from him.</p> +<p>“I’ll mend it, David. I don’t wonder that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64' name='page_64'></a>64</span> +your patience slipped its leash, but––never fight +when you have murder in your heart.”</p> +<p>When she had left the room, Janey’s face, pink +and fair as a baby rose, looked in at the door.</p> +<p>“It’s very wicked to fight and get so mad, +Davey.”</p> +<p>“I know it,” he acknowledged readily. It was +useless trying to make a girl understand.</p> +<p>There was a silence. Janey still lingered.</p> +<p>“Davey,” she asked in an awed whisper, “does +it feel nice to be wicked?”</p> +<p>David shook his head non-committally. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65' name='page_65'></a>65</span></p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.3em;margin-bottom:40px; margin-top:70px;;'>CHAPTER V</p> +<p>The rather strained relations between Jud +and David were eased the next day by the +excitement attending the big package Barnabas +brought from town. It was addressed to +David, but the removal of the outer wrapping +disclosed a number of parcels neatly labeled, +also a note from Joe, asking him to distribute +the presents.</p> +<p>David first selected the parcel marked +“Janey” and handed it to her.</p> +<p>“Blue beads!” she cried ecstatically.</p> +<p>“Let me see, Janey,” said M’ri. “Why, +they’re real turquoises and with a gold clasp! +I’ll get you a string of blue beads for now, +and you can put these away till you’re grown +up.”</p> +<p>“I didn’t tell Joe what to get for you, Aunt +M’ri; honest, I didn’t,” disclaimed David, with +a laugh, as he handed the freezer to her.</p> +<p>“We’ll initiate it this very day, David.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66' name='page_66'></a>66</span></p> +<p>David handed Barnabas his pipe and gave +Jud a letter which he opened wonderingly, +uttering a cry of pleasure when he realized +the contents.</p> +<p>“It’s an order on Harkness to let me pick +out any rifle in his store. How did he know? +Did you tell him, Dave?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” was the quiet reply.</p> +<p>“Thank you, Dave. I’ll ride right down and +get it, and we’ll go to the woods this afternoon +and shoot at a mark.”</p> +<p>“All right,” agreed David heartily.</p> +<p>The atmosphere was now quite cleared by +the proposed expenditure of ammunition, and +M’ri experienced the sensation as of one beholding +a rainbow.</p> +<p>David then turned his undivided attention to +his own big package, which contained twelve +books, his name on the fly-leaf of each. Robinson +Crusoe, Swiss Family Robinson, Andersen’s +Fairy Tales, Arabian Nights, Life of Lincoln, +Black Beauty, Oliver Twist, A Thousand +Leagues under the Sea, The Pathfinder, Gulliver’s +Travels, Uncle Tom’s Cabin, and Young +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67' name='page_67'></a>67</span> +Ranchers comprised the selection. His eyes +gleamed over the enticing titles.</p> +<p>“You shall have some book shelves for your +room, David,” promised M’ri, “and you can +start your library. Joe has made a good foundation +for one.”</p> +<p>His eyes longed to read at once, but there +were still the two packages, marked “Uncle +Larimy” and “Miss Rhody,” to deliver.</p> +<p>“I can see that Uncle Larimy has a fishing +rod, but what do you suppose he has sent +Rhody?” wondered M’ri.</p> +<p>“A black silk dress. I told him she wanted +one.”</p> +<p>“Take it right over there, David. She has +waited almost a lifetime for it.”</p> +<p>“Let me take Uncle Larimy’s present,” suggested +Jud, “and then I’ll ask him to go shooting +with us this afternoon.”</p> +<p>David amicably agreed, and went across fields +to Miss Rhody’s.</p> +<p>“Land sakes!” she exclaimed, looking at the +parcel. “M’ri ain’t a-goin’ to hev another dress +so soon, is she?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68' name='page_68'></a>68</span></p> +<p>“No, Miss Rhody. Some one else is, +though.”</p> +<p>“Who is it, David?” she asked curiously.</p> +<p>“You see Joe Forbes sent some presents from +Chicago, and this is what he sent you.”</p> +<p>“A calico,” was her divination, as she opened +the package.</p> +<p>“David Dunne!” she cried in shrill, piping +tones, a spot of red on each cheek. “Just look +here!” and she stroked lovingly the lustrous fold +of shining silk.</p> +<p>“And if here ain’t linings, and thread, and +sewing silk, and hooks and eyes! Why, David +Dunne, it can’t be true! How did he know––David, +you blessed boy, you must have told +him!”</p> +<p>Impulsively she threw her arms about him +and hugged him until he ruefully admitted to +himself that she had Jud “beat on the clutch.”</p> +<p>“And say, David, I’m a-goin’ to wear this +dress. I know folks as lets their silks wear out +a-hangin’ up in closets. Don’t get half as many +cracks when it hangs on yourself. I b’lieve as +them Episcopals do in lettin’ yer light shine, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69' name='page_69'></a>69</span> +and I never wuz one of them as b’lieved in +savin’ yer best to be laid out in. Oh, Lord, +David, I kin jest hear myself a-rustlin’ round +in it!”</p> +<p>“Maybe you’ll get a husband now,” suggested +David gravely.</p> +<p>“Mebby. I’d orter ketch somethin’ with this. +I never see sech silk. It’s much handsomer than +the one Homer Bisbee’s bride hed when she +come here from the city. It’s orful the way +she wastes. Would you b’lieve it, David, the +fust batch of pies she made, she never pricked, +and they all puffed up and bust. David, look +here! What’s in this envylope? Forever and +way back, ef it hain’t a five-doller bill and a +letter. I hain’t got my glasses handy. Read +it.”</p> +<p>“Dear Miss Rhody,” read the boy in his +musical voice, “silk is none too good for you, and +I want you to wear this and wear it out. If +you don’t, I’ll never send you another. I +thought you might want some more trimmings, +so I send you a five for same. Sincerely yours, +Joe.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70' name='page_70'></a>70</span></p> +<p>“I don’t need no trimmin’s, excep’ fifty cents +for roochin’s.”</p> +<p>“I’ll tell you what to do, Miss Rhody. When +you get your dress made we’ll go into town and +you can get your picture taken in the dress and +give it to Joe when he comes back.”</p> +<p>“That’s jest what I’ll do. I never hed my +likeness took. David, you’ve got an orful quick +mind. Is Joe coming home? I thought he callated +to go West.”</p> +<p>“Not until fall. He’s going to spend the +summer in his shanty boat on the river.”</p> +<p>“I’ll hurry up and get it made up afore he +comes. Tell me what he sent all your folks.”</p> +<p>“Joe’s a generous boy, like his ma’s folks,” +she continued, when he had enumerated their +gifts. “I am glad fer him that his pa and his +stepmother was so scrimpin’. David, would you +b’lieve it, in that great big house of the Forbeses +thar wa’n’t never a tidy on a chair, and not a +picter on the wall! It was mighty lucky for +Joe that his stepmother died fust, so he got all +the money.”</p> +<p>David hastened home and sought his retreat +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71' name='page_71'></a>71</span> +in the orchard with one of his books. M’ri, +curious to know what his selection had been, +scanned the titles of the remaining eleven +volumes.</p> +<p>“Well, who would have thought of a boy’s +preferring fairy tales!”</p> +<p>David read until dinner time, but spent the +afternoon with Uncle Larimy and Jud in the +woods, where they received good instruction in +rifle practice. After supper he settled comfortably +down with a book, from which he was +recalled by a plaintive little wail.</p> +<p>“I haven’t had a bit of fun to-day, Davey, +and it’s Saturday, and you haven’t played with +me at all!”</p> +<p>The book closed instantly.</p> +<p>“Come on out doors, Janey,” he invited.</p> +<p>The sound of childish laughter fell pleasantly +on M’ri’s ears. She recalled what Joe Forbes +had said about her own children, and an unbidden +tear lingered on her lashes. This little +space between twilight and lamplight was M’ri’s +favorite hour. In every season but winter it +was spent on the west porch, where she could +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72' name='page_72'></a>72</span> +watch the moon and the stars come out. Maybe, +too, it was because from here she had been +wont to sit in days gone by and watch for Martin’s +coming. The time and place were conducive +to backward flights of memory, and +M’ri’s pictures of the past were most beguiling, +except that last one when Martin Thorne, stern-faced, +unrelenting, and vowing that he would +never see her again, had left her alone––to do +her duty.</p> +<p>When the children came in she joined them. +Janey, flushed and breathless from play, was +curled up on the couch beside David. He put +his arm caressingly about her and began to +relate one of Andersen’s fairy tales. M’ri gazed +at them tenderly, and was weaving a future little +romance for her two young charges when +Janey said petulantly: “I don’t like fairy +stories, Davey. Tell a real one.”</p> +<p>M’ri noted the disappointment in the boy’s +eyes as he began the narrating of a more realistic +story.</p> +<p>“David, where did you read that story?” she +asked when he had finished. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73' name='page_73'></a>73</span></p> +<p>“I made it up,” he confessed.</p> +<p>“Why, David, I didn’t know you had such a +talent. You must be an author when you are +a man.”</p> +<p>Late that night she saw a light shining from +beneath the young narrator’s door.</p> +<p>“I ought to send him to bed,” she meditated, +“but, poor lad, he has had so few pleasures and, +after all, childhood is the only time for thorough +enjoyment, so why should I put a feather in its +path?”</p> +<p>David read until after midnight, and went to +bed with a book under his pillow that he might +begin his pastime again at dawn.</p> +<p>After breakfast the next morning M’ri commanded +the whole family to sit down and write +their thanks to Joe. David’s willing pen flew +in pace with his thoughts as he told of Miss +Rhody’s delight and his own revel in book +land. Janey made most wretched work of her +composition. She sighed and struggled with +thoughts and pencil, which she gnawed at both +ends. Finally she confessed that she couldn’t +think of anything more to say. M’ri came to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74' name='page_74'></a>74</span> +inspect her literary effort, which was written in +huge characters.</p> +<p>“Dear Joe––”</p> +<p>“Oh,” commented M’ri doubtfully, “I don’t +know as you should address him so familiarly.”</p> +<p>“I called him ‘Joe’ when we rode to school. +He told me to,” defended Janey.</p> +<p>“He’s just like a boy,” suggested David.</p> +<p>So M’ri, silenced, read on: “I thank you for +your beyewtifull present which I cannot have.”</p> +<p>“Oh, Janey,” expostulated M’ri, laughing; +“that doesn’t sound very gracious.”</p> +<p>“Well, you said I couldn’t have them till I +was grown up.”</p> +<p>“I was wrong,” admitted M’ri. “I didn’t +realize it then. We have to see a thing written +sometimes to know how it sounds.”</p> +<p>“May I wear them?” asked Janey exultingly. +“May I put them on now?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” consented M’ri.</p> +<p>Janey flew upstairs and came back wearing +the adored turquoises, which made her eyes most +beautifully blue.</p> +<p>“Now I can write,” she affirmed, taking up +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75' name='page_75'></a>75</span> +her pencil with the impetus of an incentive. +Under the inspiration of the beads around her +neck, she wrote:</p> +<p style='margin-left:1.0em; margin-right:2.0em; '>“<span class='smcap'>Dear Joe:</span></p> +<p style='margin-left:1.0em; margin-right:2.0em; '>“I am wareing the beyewtifull beeds you sent me around +my neck. Aunt M’ri says they are terkwoyses. I never +had such nice beeds and I thank you. I wish I cood ride +with you agen. Good bye. From your frend,</p> +<p style='margin-left:1.0em; margin-right:2.0em; text-align:right'>“<span class='smcap'>Janey.</span>”<br /></p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76' name='page_76'></a>76</span></div> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.3em;margin-bottom:40px; margin-top:70px;;'>CHAPTER VI</p> +<p>The next day being town day, David +“hooked up” Old Hundred and drove to +the house. After the butter crock, egg pails, +and kerosene and gasoline cans had been piled +in, Barnabas squeezed into the space beside +David. M’ri came out with a memorandum of +supplies for them to get in town. To David +she handed a big bunch of spicy, pink June +roses.</p> +<p>“What shall I do with them?” he asked wonderingly.</p> +<p>“Give them to some one who looks as if he +needed flowers,” she replied.</p> +<p>“I will,” declared the boy interestedly. “I +will watch them all and see how they look at the +roses.”</p> +<p>At last M’ri had a kindred spirit in her household. +Jud would have sneered, and Janey +would not have understood. To Barnabas all +flowers looked alike. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77' name='page_77'></a>77</span></p> +<p>It had come to be a custom for Barnabas to +take David to town with him at least once a +week. The trip was necessarily a slow one, for +from almost every farmhouse he received a petition +to “do a little errand in town.” As the +good nature and accommodating tendency of +Barnabas were well known, they were accordingly +imposed upon. He received commissions +of every character, from the purchase of a corn +sheller to the matching of a blue ribbon. He +also stopped to pick up a child or two en route +to school or to give a lift to a weary pedestrian +whom he overtook.</p> +<p>While Barnabas made his usual rounds of +the groceries, meatmarket, drug store, mill, +feed store, general store, and a hotel where he +was well known, David was free to go where +he liked. Usually he accompanied Barnabas, +but to-day he walked slowly up the principal +business street, watching for “one who needed +flowers.” Many glances were bestowed upon +the roses, some admiring, some careless, and then––his +heart almost stopped beating at the significance––Judge +Thorne came by. He, too, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78' name='page_78'></a>78</span> +glanced at the roses. His gaze lingered, and a +look came into his eyes that stimulated David’s +passion for romance.</p> +<p>“He’s remembering,” he thought joyfully.</p> +<p>He didn’t hesitate even an instant. He +stopped in front of the Judge and extended the +flowers.</p> +<p>“Would you like these roses, Judge Thorne?” +he asked courteously.</p> +<p>Then for the first time the Judge’s attention +was diverted from the flowers.</p> +<p>“Your face is familiar, my lad, but––”</p> +<p>“My name is David Dunne.”</p> +<p>“Yes, to be sure, but it must be four years +or more since I last saw you. How’s your +mother getting along?”</p> +<p>The boy’s face paled.</p> +<p>“She died three weeks ago,” he answered.</p> +<p>“Oh, my lad,” he exclaimed in shocked tones, +“I didn’t know! I only returned last night +from a long journey. But with whom are you +living?”</p> +<p>“With Aunt M’ri and Uncle Barnabas.”</p> +<p>“Oh!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79' name='page_79'></a>79</span></p> +<p>The impressive silence following this exclamation +was broken by the Judge.</p> +<p>“Why do you offer me these flowers, David?”</p> +<p>“Aunt M’ri picked them and told me to give +them to some one who looked as if they needed +flowers.”</p> +<p>The Judge eyed him with the keen scrutiny of +the trained lawyer, but the boy’s face was non-committal.</p> +<p>“Come up into my office with me, David,” +commanded the Judge, turning quickly into a +near-by stairway. David followed up the stairs +and into a suite of well-appointed offices.</p> +<p>A clerk looked up in surprise at the sight of +the dignified judge carrying a bouquet of old-fashioned +roses and accompanied by a country +lad.</p> +<p>“Good morning, Mathews. I am engaged, if +any one comes.”</p> +<p>He preceded David into a room on whose +outer door was the deterrent word, “Private.”</p> +<p>While the Judge got a pitcher of water to +hold the flowers David crossed the room. On +a table near the window was a rack of books +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80' name='page_80'></a>80</span> +which he eagerly inspected. To his delight he +saw a volume of Andersen’s Fairy Tales. Instantly +the book was opened, and he was devouring +a story.</p> +<p>“David,” spoke the Judge from the other end +of the room, “didn’t these roses grow on a bush +by the west porch?”</p> +<p>There was no answer.</p> +<p>The Judge, remarking the boy’s absorption, +came to see what he was reading.</p> +<p>“Andersen’s Fairy Tales! My favorite book. +I didn’t know that boys liked fairy stories.”</p> +<p>David looked up quickly.</p> +<p>“I didn’t know that lawyers did, either.”</p> +<p>“Well, I do, David. They are my most delightful +diversion.”</p> +<p>“Girls don’t like fairy stories,” mused David. +“Anyway, Janey doesn’t. I have to tell true +stories to please her.”</p> +<p>“Oh, you are a yarner, are you?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” admitted David modestly. “Aunt +M’ri thinks I will be a writer when I grow up, +but I think I should like to be a lawyer.”</p> +<p>“David,” asked the Judge abruptly, “did +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81' name='page_81'></a>81</span> +Miss Brumble tell you to give me those roses?”</p> +<p>With a wild flashing of eyes the Dunne temper +awoke, and the boy’s under jaw shot +forward.</p> +<p>“No!” he answered fiercely. “She didn’t +know that I know––”</p> +<p>He paused in mid-channel of such deep +waters.</p> +<p>“That you know what?” demanded the Judge +in his cross-examining tone.</p> +<p>David was doubtful of the consequences of +his temerity, but he stood his ground.</p> +<p>“I can’t tell you what, because I promised +not to. Some one was just thinking out loud, +and I overheard.”</p> +<p>There was silence for a moment.</p> +<p>“David, I remember your father telling me, +years ago, that he had a little son with a big imagination +which his mother fed by telling stories +every night at bedtime.”</p> +<p>“Will you tell me,” asked David earnestly, +“about my father? What was it he did? Uncle +Barnabas told me something about his trouble +last Saturday.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82' name='page_82'></a>82</span></p> +<p>“How did he come to mention your father to +you?”</p> +<p>David reddened.</p> +<p>“Jud twitted me about my mother taking in +washing and about my father being a convict, +and I knocked him down. I told him I would +kill him. Uncle Barnabas pulled me off.”</p> +<p>“And then?”</p> +<p>“Then he let us fight it out.”</p> +<p>“And you licked?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir,” replied the boy, with proud +modesty.</p> +<p>“You naturally would, with that under jaw, +but it’s the animal in us that makes us want to +kill, and the man in us should rise above the +animal. I think I am the person to tell you +about your father. He had every reason to +make good, but he was unfortunate in his choice +of associates and he acquired some of their +habits. He had a violent temper, and one night +when he was––”</p> +<p>“Drunk,” supplied David gravely.</p> +<p>“He became angry with one of his friends +and tried to kill him. Your father was given +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83' name='page_83'></a>83</span> +a comparatively short sentence, which he had +almost served when he died. You must guard +against your temper and cultivate patience and +endurance––qualities your mother possessed.”</p> +<p>It suddenly and overwhelmingly flashed +across David what need his mother must have +had for such traits, and he turned away to force +back his tears. The Judge saw the heaving of +the slender, square, young shoulders, and the +gray eyes that were wont to look so coldly upon +the world and its people grew soft and surprisingly +moist.</p> +<p>“It’s past now, David, and can’t be helped, +but you are going to aim to be the kind of man +your mother would want you to be. You must +learn to put up with Jud’s tyranny because his +father and his aunt are your benefactors. I +have been away the greater part of the time +since your father’s death, or I should have kept +track of you and your mother. Every time you +come to town I want you to come up here and +report to me. Will you?”</p> +<p>“Thank you, sir. And I will bring you some +more flowers.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84' name='page_84'></a>84</span></p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.3em;margin-bottom:40px; margin-top:70px;;'>CHAPTER VII</p> +<p>“Whar wuz you, Dave, all the time we +wuz in town?” asked Barnabas, as they +drove homeward.</p> +<p>“In Judge Thorne’s office.”</p> +<p>“Judge Thorne’s office! What fer?”</p> +<p>“He asked me there, Uncle Barnabas. He +was my father’s lawyer once, you know.”</p> +<p>“So he wuz. I hed fergot.”</p> +<p>“He warned me against my temper, as you +did, and he told me––all about my father.”</p> +<p>“I am glad he did, Dave. He wuz the one +to tell you.”</p> +<p>“He says that every time I come to Lafferton +I must come up and report to him.”</p> +<p>“Wal, Dave, it does beat all how folks take +to you. Thar wuz Joe wanted you, and now +Mart Thorne’s interested. Mebby they could +do better by you than we could. Joe’s rich, and +the Jedge is well fixed and almighty smart.”</p> +<p>“No,” replied David stoutly. “I’d rather +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85' name='page_85'></a>85</span> +stay with you, Uncle Barnabas. There’s +something you’ve got much more of than they +have.”</p> +<p>“What’s that, Dave?” asked Barnabas curiously.</p> +<p>“Horse sense.”</p> +<p>Barnabas looked pleased.</p> +<p>“Wal, Dave, I callate to do my best fer you, +and thar’s one thing I want <i>you</i> to git some +horse sense about right off.”</p> +<p>“All right, Uncle Barnabas. What is it?”</p> +<p>“Feedin’ on them fairy stories all day. They +hain’t hullsome diet fer a boy.”</p> +<p>“The Judge reads them,” protested David. +“He has that same book of fairy stories that +Joe gave me.”</p> +<p>“When you’ve done all the Jedge has, and +git to whar you kin afford to be idle, you kin +read any stuff you want ter.”</p> +<p>“Can’t I read them at all?” asked David in +alarm.</p> +<p>“Of course you kin. I meant, I didn’t want +you stickin’ to ’em like a pup to a root. You’re +goin’ down to the fields to begin work with me +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86' name='page_86'></a>86</span> +this arternoon, and you won’t feel much like +readin’ to-night. I wuz lookin’ over them books +of your’n last night. Thar’s one you’d best +start in on right away, and give the fairies a +rest.”</p> +<p>“Which one?”</p> +<p>“Life of Lincoln. That’ll show you what +work will do.”</p> +<p>“I’ll read it aloud to you, Uncle Barnabas.”</p> +<p>When they reached the bridge that spanned +the river Old Hundred dropped the little hurrying +gait which he assumed in town, and settled +down to his normal, comfortable, country jog.</p> +<p>“Uncle Barnabas,” said David thoughtfully, +“what is your religion?”</p> +<p>Barnabas meditated.</p> +<p>“Wal, Dave, I don’t know as I hev what you +might call religion exackly. I b’lieve in payin’ +a hundred cents on the dollar, and a-helpin’ the +man that’s down, and––wal, I s’pose I come +as nigh bein’ a Unitarian as anything.”</p> +<p>The distribution of the purchases now began. +Sometimes the good housewife, herself, came +out to receive the parcels and to hear the latest +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87' name='page_87'></a>87</span> +news from town. Oftener, the children of the +household were the messengers, for Barnabas’ +pockets were always well filled with candy on +town days. At one place Barnabas stopped +at a barn by the roadside and surreptitiously +deposited a suspicious looking package. When +he was in front of the next farmhouse a man +came out with anxious mien.</p> +<p>“All right, Fred!” hailed Barnabas with a +knowing wink. “I was afeerd you’d not be on +the watchout. I left it in the manger.”</p> +<p>They did not reach the farm until the dinner +hour, and the conversation was maintained by +M’ri and Barnabas on marketing matters. +David spent the afternoon in being initiated in +field work. At supper, M’ri asked him suddenly:</p> +<p>“To whom did you give the flowers, David?”</p> +<p>“I’ve made a story to it, Aunt M’ri, and +I’m going to tell it to Janey. Then you can +hear.”</p> +<p>M’ri smiled, and questioned him no further.</p> +<p>When the day was done and the “still hour” +had come, Janey and David, hand in hand, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88' name='page_88'></a>88</span> +came around the house and sat down at her feet. +It was seldom that any one intruded at this +hour, but she knew that David had come to tell +his story.</p> +<p>“Begin, Davey,” urged Janey impatiently.</p> +<p>“One day, when a boy was going to town, +his aunt gave him a big bouquet of pink roses. +She told him to give them to some one who +looked as if they needed flowers. So when the +boy got to town he walked up Main Street and +looked at every one he met. He hoped to see +a little sick child or a tired woman who had no +flowers of her own; but every one seemed to be +in a hurry, and very few stopped to look at +flowers or anything else. Those that did look +turned away as if they did not see them, and +some seemed to be thinking, ‘What beautiful +flowers!’ and then forgot them.</p> +<p>“At last he met a tall, stern man dressed in +fine clothes. He looked very proud, but as if +he were tired of everything. When he saw the +flowers he didn’t turn away, but kept his eyes +on them as if they made him sad and lonesome +in thinking of good times that were over. So +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89' name='page_89'></a>89</span> +the boy asked him if he would not like the +flowers. The man looked surprised and asked +the boy what his name was. When he heard it, +he remembered that he had been attorney for +the boy’s father. He took him up into an +office marked private, and he gave the boy some +good advice, and talked to him about his +mother, which made the boy feel bad. But the +man comforted him and told him that every +time he came to town he was to report to him.”</p> +<p>M’ri had sat motionless during the recital of +this story. At its close she did not speak.</p> +<p>“That wasn’t much of a story. Let’s go +play,” suggested Janey, relieving the tension.</p> +<p>They were off like a flash. David heard his +name faintly called. M’ri’s voice sounded far +off, and as if there were tears in it, but he +lacked the courage to return. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90' name='page_90'></a>90</span></p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.3em;margin-bottom:40px; margin-top:70px;;'>CHAPTER VIII</p> +<p>Two important events calendared the next +week. The school year ended and Pennyroyal, +the “hired help,” who had been paying +her annual visit to her sister, came back to the +farm. There are two kinds of housekeepers, +the “make-cleans” and the “keep-cleans.” +Pennyroyal was a graduate of both classes. Her +ruling passions in life were scrubbing and “redding” +up. On the day of her return, after +making onslaught on house and porches, she +attacked the pump, and planned a sand-scouring +siege for the morrow on the barn. In +appearance she was a true exponent of soap and +water, and always had the look of being freshly +laundered.</p> +<p>At first Pennyroyal looked with ill favor on +the addition that had been made to the household +in her absence, but when David submitted +to the shampooing of his tousled mass of hair, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91' name='page_91'></a>91</span> +and offered no protest when she scrubbed his +neck, she became reconciled to his presence.</p> +<p>On a “town day” David, carrying a huge +bunch of pinks, paid his second visit to the +Judge.</p> +<p>“Did she tell you,” asked the tall man, gazing +very hard at the landscape without the open +window, “to give these flowers to some one who +needed them?”</p> +<p>There was a perilous little pause. Then there +flashed from the boy to the man a gaze of comprehension.</p> +<p>“She picked them for you,” was the response, +simply spoken.</p> +<p>The Judge carefully selected a blossom for +his buttonhole, and then proceeded to draw +David out. Under the skillful, schooled questioning, +David grew communicative.</p> +<p>“She’s always on the west porch after supper.” +He added naïvely: “That’s the time when +Uncle Barnabas smokes on the east porch, Jud +goes off with the boys, and I play with Janey +in the lane.”</p> +<p>“Thank you, David,” acknowledged the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92' name='page_92'></a>92</span> +Judge gratefully. “You are quite a bureau of +information, and,” in a consciously casual tone, +“will you take a note to your aunt? I think I +will ride out to the farm to-night.”</p> +<p>David’s young heart fluttered, and he went +back to the farm invested with a proud feeling +of having assisted the fates. The air was filled +with mystery and an undercurrent of excitement +that day. After David had delivered the +auspicious note, a private conference behind +closed doors had been held between M’ri and +Barnabas in the “company parlor.” David’s +shrewd young eyes noted the weakening of the +lines of finality about M’ri’s mouth when she +emerged from the interview. Throughout the +long afternoon she performed the usual tasks in +nervous haste, the color coming and going in her +delicately contoured face.</p> +<p>When she appeared at the supper table she +was adorned in white, brightened by touches of +blue at belt and collar. David’s young eyes surveyed +her appraisingly and approvingly, and +later he effected a thorough effacing of the family. +He obtained from Barnabas permission for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93' name='page_93'></a>93</span> +Jud to go to town with the Gardner boys. His +next diplomatic move was to persuade Pennyroyal +to go with himself and Janey to Uncle +Larimy’s hermit home. When she wavered, he +commented on the eclipse of Uncle Larimy’s +windows the last time he saw them. That +turned the tide of Pennyroyal’s resistance. +Equipped with soft linen, a cake of strong soap, +and a bottle of ammonia, she strode down the +lane, accompanied by the children.</p> +<p>The walk proved a trying ordeal for Pennyroyal. +She started out at her accustomed brisk +gait, but David loitered and sauntered, Janey +of course setting her pace by his. Pennyroyal, +feeling it incumbent upon herself to keep +watch of her young companions, retraced her +steps so often that she covered the distance several +times.</p> +<p>At Uncle Larimy’s she found such a fertile +field for her line of work that David was quite +ready to return when she pronounced her labors +finished. She was really tired, and quite willing +to walk home slowly in the moonlight.</p> +<p>It was very quiet. Here and there a bird, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94' name='page_94'></a>94</span> +startled from its hiding place, sought refuge in +the higher branches. A pensive quail piped an +answer to the trilling call from the meadows. A +tree toad uttered his lonely, guttural exclamation. +The air, freshening with a coming covey +of clouds, swayed the tops of the trees with +mournful sound.</p> +<p>David, full of dreams, let his fancy have full +play, and he made a little story of his own about +the meeting of the lovers. He pictured the +Judge riding down the dust-white road as the +sunset shadows grew long. He knew the exact +spot––the last bit of woodland––from where +Martin, across level-lying fields, could obtain +his first glimpse of the old farmhouse and porch. +His moving-picture conceit next placed M’ri, +dressed in white, with touches of blue, on the +west porch. He had decided that in the +Long Ago Days she had been wont to wear +blue, which he imagined to be the Judge’s +favorite color. Then he caused the unimpressionable +Judge to tie his horse to the hitching +post at the side of the road and walk between +the hedges of sweet peas that bordered +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95' name='page_95'></a>95</span> +the path. Their pink and white sweetness was +the trumpet call sounding over the grave of the +love of his youth. (David had read such a passage +in a book at Miss Rhody’s and thought it +very fine and applicable.) His active fancy +took Martin Thorne around the house to the +west porch. The white figure arose, and in the +purple-misted twilight he saw the touches of +blue, and his heart lighted.</p> +<p>“Marie!”</p> +<p>The old name, the name he had given her in +his love-making days, came to his lips. (David +couldn’t make M’ri fit in with the settings of his +story, so he re-christened her.) She came forward +with outstretched hand and a gentle manner, +but at the look in his eyes as he uttered the +old name, with the caressing accent on the first +syllable, she understood. A deep sunrise color +flooded her face and neck.</p> +<p>“Martin!” she whispered as she came to him.</p> +<p>David threw back his head and shut his eyes +in ecstatic bliss. He was rudely roused from his +romantic weaving by the sound of Barnabas’ +chuckle as they came to the east porch. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96' name='page_96'></a>96</span></p> +<p>“You must a washed every one of Larimy’s +winders!”</p> +<p>“Yes,” replied Janey, “and she mopped his +floors, washed and clean-papered the shelves, +and wanted to scrub the old gray horse.”</p> +<p>“Pennyroyal,” exclaimed Barnabas gravely, +“I wonder you ain’t waterlogged!”</p> +<p>“Pennyroyal’d rather be clean than be President,” +averred David.</p> +<p>“Where’s M’ri?” demanded Pennyroyal, ignoring +these thrusts.</p> +<p>“On the west porch, entertaining company,” +remarked Barnabas.</p> +<p>“Who?”</p> +<p>Pennyroyal never used a superfluous word. +Joe Forbes said she talked like telegrams.</p> +<p>Barnabas removed his pipe from his mouth, +and paused to give his words greater dramatic +force.</p> +<p>“Mart Thorne!”</p> +<p>The effect was satisfactory.</p> +<p>Pennyroyal stood as if petrified for a moment. +Than she expressed her feelings.</p> +<p>“Hallelujah!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97' name='page_97'></a>97</span></p> +<p>Her tone made the exclamation as impressive +as a benediction.</p> +<p>M’ri visited the bedside of each of her +charges that night. Jud and Janey were in the +land of dreams, but David was awake, expecting +her coming. There was a new tenderness +in her good-night kiss.</p> +<p>“Aunt M’ri,” asked the boy, looking up with +his deep, searching eyes and a suspicion of a +smile about his lips, “did you and Judge Thorne +talk over my education? He said that he was +going to speak to you about it.”</p> +<p>Her eyes sparkled.</p> +<p>“David, the Judge is coming to dinner Sunday. +We will talk it over with you then.”</p> +<p>“Aunt M’ri,” a little note of wistfulness chasing +the bantering look from his eyes, “you aren’t +going to leave us now?”</p> +<p>“Not for a year, David,” she said, a soft flush +coming to her face.</p> +<p>“He’s waited seven,” thought David, “so one +more won’t make so much difference. Anyway, +we need a year to get used to it.”</p> +<p>After all, David was only a boy. His flights +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98' name='page_98'></a>98</span> +of romantic fancy vanished in remembrance of +the blissful certainty that there would be ice +cream for dinner on Sunday next and on many +Sundays thereafter. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99' name='page_99'></a>99</span></p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.3em;margin-bottom:40px; margin-top:70px;;'>CHAPTER IX</p> +<p>The little trickle of uneven days was broken +one morning by a message which was +brought by the “hired man from Randall’s.”</p> +<p>“We’ve got visitors from the city tew our +house,” he announced. “They want you to send +Janey over tew play with their little gal.”</p> +<p>Befitting the honor of the occasion, Janey was +attired in her blue-sprigged muslin and allowed +to wear the turquoises. David drove her to +Maplewood, the pretentious home of the Randalls, +intending to call for her later. When they +came to the entrance of the grounds at the end +of a long avenue of maples a very tiny girl, immaculate +in white, with hair of gold and eyes +darkly blue, came out from among the trees. +She regarded David with deep, grave eyes as he +stepped from the wagon to open the gate.</p> +<p>“You’ve come to play with me,” she stated +in a tone of assurance.</p> +<p>“I’ve brought Janey to play with you,” he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100' name='page_100'></a>100</span> +rejoined, indicating his little companion. “If +you’ll get in the wagon, I’ll drive you up to the +house.”</p> +<p>She held up her slender little arms to him, and +David felt as if he were lifting a doll.</p> +<p>“My name in Carey Winthrop. What is +yours?” she demanded of Janey as they all rode +up the shaded, graveled road.</p> +<p>“Janey Brumble,” replied the visitor, gaining +ease from the ingenuousness of the little girl +and from the knowledge that she was older than +her hostess.</p> +<p>“And he’s your brother?” indicating David.</p> +<p>“He’s my adopted brother,” said Janey; +“he’s David Dunne.”</p> +<p>“I wish I had a ’dopted brother,” sighed the +little girl, eying David wistfully.</p> +<p>David drove up to the side entrance of the +large, white-columned, porticoed house, on the +spacious veranda of which sat a fair-haired +young woman with luminous eyes and smiling +mouth. The smile deepened as she saw the curiously +disfigured horse ambling up to the stone +step. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101' name='page_101'></a>101</span></p> +<p>“Whoa, Old Hundred!” commanded David, +whereupon the smile became a rippling laugh. +David got out, lifted the little girl to the ground +very carefully, and gave a helping hand to +the nimble, independent Janey.</p> +<p>“Mother,” cried Carey delightedly, “this is +Janey and her ’dopted brother David.”</p> +<p>David touched his cap gravely in acknowledgment +of the introduction. He had never heard +his name pronounced as this little girl spoke +it, with the soft “a.” It sounded very sweet to +him.</p> +<p>“I’ll drive back for you before sundown, +Janey,” said David, preparing to climb into the +wagon.</p> +<p>“No,” objected Carey, regarding him with +apprehension, “I want you to stay and play with +me. Tell him to stay, mother.”</p> +<p>There was a regal carriage to the little head +and an imperious note––the note of an only +child––in her voice.</p> +<p>“Maybe David has other things to do than to +play with little girls,” said her mother, “but, +David, if you can stay, I wish you would.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102' name='page_102'></a>102</span></p> +<p>“I should like to stay,” replied David earnestly, +“but they expect me back, and Old Hundred +is needed in the field.”</p> +<p>“Luke can drive your horse back, and we will +see that you and Janey ride home.”</p> +<p>So Carey, with a hand to each of her new +playmates, led them across the driveway to the +rolling stretch of shaded lawn. The lady +watched David as he submitted to be driven as +a horse by the little girls and then constituted +himself driver to his little team of ponies as he +called them. Later, when they raced to the +meadow, she saw him hold Janey back that Carey +might win. Presently the lady was joined by +her husband.</p> +<p>“Where is Carey?” he asked.</p> +<p>“She is having great sport with a pretty little +girl and a guardian angel of a boy. Here they +come!”</p> +<p>They were trooping across the lawn, the little +girls adorned with blossom wreaths which David +had woven for them.</p> +<p>“May we go down to the woods––the big +woods?” asked Carey. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103' name='page_103'></a>103</span></p> +<p>“It’s too far for you to walk, dear,” remonstrated +her mother.</p> +<p>“David says he’ll draw me in my little cart.”</p> +<p>“Who is it that was afraid to go into the big +woods, and thought it was a forest filled with +wild beasts and scary things?” demanded Mr. +Winthrop.</p> +<p>The earnest eyes fixed on his were not at all +abashed.</p> +<p>“With him, with David,” she said simply, “I +would have no afraidments.”</p> +<p>“Afraidments?” he repeated perplexedly. “I +am not sure I understand.”</p> +<p>“Don’t tease, Arthur; it’s a very good word,” +interposed Mrs. Winthrop quickly. “It seems +to have a different meaning from fear.”</p> +<p>“Come up here, David,” bade Mr. Winthrop, +“and let me see what there is in you to inspire +one with no ‘afraidments’.”</p> +<p>The boy came up on the steps, and did not +falter under the keen but good-humored gaze.</p> +<p>“Do you like to play with little girls, David?”</p> +<p>“I like to play with these little girls,” admitted +David. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104' name='page_104'></a>104</span></p> +<p>“And what do you like to do besides that?”</p> +<p>“I like to shoot.”</p> +<p>“Oh, a hunter?”</p> +<p>“No; I like to shoot at a mark.”</p> +<p>“And what else?”</p> +<p>“I like to read, and fish, and swim, and––”</p> +<p>“Eat ice cream!” finished Janey roguishly, +showing her dimples.</p> +<p>The man caught her up in his arms.</p> +<p>“You are a darling, and I wish my little girl +had such rosy cheeks. David, can you show me +where there is good fishing?”</p> +<p>“Uncle Larimy can show you the best places. +He knows where the bass live, and how to coax +them to bite.”</p> +<p>“And will you take me to this wonderful person +to-morrow?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> +<p>Carey now came out of the hall with her cart, +and David drew her across the lawn, Janey dancing +by his side. Down through the meadows +wound a wheel-tracked road leading to a patch +of dense woods which, to a little girl with a big +imagination, could easily become a wild forest +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105' name='page_105'></a>105</span> +infested with all sorts of nameless terrors––terrors +that make one draw the bedclothes snugly +over the head at night. She gave a little frightened +cry as they came into the cool, olive depths.</p> +<p>“I am afraid, David. Take me!”</p> +<p>He lifted her to his shoulder, and her soft +cheek nestled against his face.</p> +<p>“Now you are not afraid,” he said persuasively.</p> +<p>“No; but I would be if you put me down.”</p> +<p>They went farther into the oak depths, until +they came to a fallen tree where they rested. +Janey, investigating the forestry, finally discovered +a bush with slender red twigs.</p> +<p>“Oh,” she cried, “now David will show you +what beautiful things he can make for us.”</p> +<p>“I have no pins,” demurred David.</p> +<p>“I have,” triumphantly producing a paper of +the needful from her pocket. “I always carry +them now.”</p> +<p>David broke up the long twigs into short +pieces, from which he skillfully fashioned little +chairs and tables, discoursing the while to Carey +on the beauty and safety of the woods. Finally +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106' name='page_106'></a>106</span> +Carey acquired courage to hunt for wild flowers, +though her hand remained close in David’s +clasp.</p> +<p>When they returned to the house Carey gave a +glowing account of the expedition.</p> +<p>“Sit down on the steps and rest, children,” +proposed Mrs. Winthrop, “while Lucy prepares +a little picnic dinner for you.”</p> +<p>“What will we do now, David?” appealed +Carey, when they were seated on the porch.</p> +<p>“You mustn’t do anything but sit still,” admonished +her mother. “You’ve done more now +than you are used to doing in one day.”</p> +<p>“Davey will tell us a story,” suggested Janey.</p> +<p>“Yes, please, David,” urged Carey, coming to +him and resting her eyes on his inquiringly, while +her little hand confidently sought his knee. +Instinctively and naturally his fingers closed +upon it.</p> +<p>Embarrassed as he was at having a strange +audience, he could not resist the child’s appeal.</p> +<p>“She’ll like the kind that you don’t,” he said +musingly to Janey, “the kind about fairies and +princes.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107' name='page_107'></a>107</span></p> +<p>“Yes,” rejoined Carey.</p> +<p>So he fashioned a tale, partly from recollections +of Andersen but mostly from his own +fancy. As his imagination kindled, he forgot +where he was. Inspired by the spellbound interest +of the dainty little girl with the worshiping +eyes, he achieved his masterpiece.</p> +<p>“Upon my word,” exclaimed Mr. Winthrop, +“you are a veritable Scheherazade! You didn’t +make up that story yourself?”</p> +<p>“Only part of it,” admitted David modestly.</p> +<p>When he and Janey started for home David +politely delivered M’ri’s message of invitation +for Carey to come to the farm on the morrow to +play.</p> +<p>“It is going to be lovely here,” said the little +girl happily. “And we are going to come every +summer.”</p> +<p>Janey kissed her impulsively. “Good-by, +Carey.”</p> +<p>“Good-by, Janey. Good-by, David.”</p> +<p>“Good-by,” he returned cheerily. Looking +back, he saw her lips trembling. His gaze +turned in perplexity to Mrs. Winthrop, whose +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108' name='page_108'></a>108</span> +eyes were dancing. “She expects you to bid her +good-by the way Janey did,” she explained.</p> +<p>“Oh!” said David, reddening, as two baby lips +of scarlet were lifted naturally and expectantly +to his.</p> +<p>As they drove away, the light feet of the +horse making but little sound on the smooth +road, Mrs. Winthrop’s clear treble was wafted +after them.</p> +<p>“One can scarcely believe that his father was +a convict and his mother a washerwoman.”</p> +<p>A lump came into the boy’s throat. Janey +was very quiet on the way home. When they +were alone she said to him, with troubled eyes:</p> +<p>“Davey, is Carey going to be your sweetheart?”</p> +<p>His laugh was reassuring.</p> +<p>“Why, Janey, I am just twice her age.”</p> +<p>“She is like a little doll, isn’t she, David?”</p> +<p>“No; like a little princess.”</p> +<p>The next morning Little Teacher came to +show them her present from Joe.</p> +<p>“I am sure he chose a camera so I could take +your pictures to send to him,” she declared. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109' name='page_109'></a>109</span></p> +<p>“Miss Rhody wants her picture taken in the +black silk Joe gave her. If you will take it, she +won’t have to spend the money he sent her,” +said the thoughtful David.</p> +<p>Little Teacher was very enthusiastic over this +proposition, and offered to accompany him at +once to secure the picture. Miss Rhody was +greatly excited over the event. Ever since the +dress had been finished she had been a devotee +at the shrine of two hooks in her closet from +which was suspended the long-coveted garment, +waiting for an occasion that would warrant its +débût. She nervously dressed for the “likeness,” +for which she assumed her primmest pose. +A week later David sent Joe a picture of Miss +Rhody standing stiff and straight on her back +porch and arrayed, with all the glory of the +lilies of the field, in her new silk. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110' name='page_110'></a>110</span></p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.3em;margin-bottom:40px; margin-top:70px;;'>CHAPTER X</p> +<p>When the hot, close-cropped fields took +on their first suggestion of autumn and a +fuller note was heard in the requiem of the songbirds, +when the twilights were of purple and the +morning skies delicately mackereled in gray, +David entered the little, red, country schoolhouse. +M’ri’s tutelage and his sedulous application +to Jud’s schoolbooks saved him from the +ignominy of being classified with the younger +children.</p> +<p>When he sat down to the ink-stained, pen-scratched +desk that was to be his own, when he +made compact piles of his new books and placed +in the little groove in front of the inkwell his pen, +pencils, and ruler, he turned to Little Teacher +such a glowing face of ecstasy that she was quite +inspired, and her sympathies and energies were +at once enlisted in the cause of David’s education.</p> +<p>It was the beginning of a new world for him. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111' name='page_111'></a>111</span> +He studied with a concentration that made him +oblivious to all that occurred about him, and he +had to be reminded of calls to recitations by an +individual summons. He fairly overwhelmed +Little Teacher by his voracity for learning and +a perseverance that vanquished all obstacles. +He soon outstripped his class, and finally his +young instructress was forced to bring forth her +own textbooks to satisfy his avidity. He devoured +them all speedily, and she then applied to +the Judge for fuel from his library to feed her +young furnace.</p> +<p>“He takes to learning as naturally as bees to +blossoms,” she reported.</p> +<p>“He must ease off,” warned Barnabas. +“Young hickory needs plenty of room for full +growth.”</p> +<p>“No,” disagreed the Judge, “young hickory is +as strong as wrought iron. He’s going to have +a clear, keen mind to argue law cases.”</p> +<p>“I think not,” said M’ri. “You forget another +quality of young hickory. No other wood burns +with such brilliancy. David is going to be an +author.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112' name='page_112'></a>112</span></p> +<p>“I am afraid,” wrote Joe, “that Dave won’t be +a first-class ranchman. He must be plum locoed +with dreams.”</p> +<p>This prognostication reached David’s ears.</p> +<p>“Without dreams,” he argued to Barnabas, +“one would be like the pigs.”</p> +<p>“Wal, now, Dave, mebby pigs dream. They +sartain sleep a hull lot.”</p> +<p>David laughed appreciatively.</p> +<p>“Dave,” pursued Barnabas, “they’re all figgerin’ +on your futur, and they’re a-figgerin’ +wrong. Joe thinks you’ll take to ranchin’. You +may––fer a spell. M’ri thinks you may write +books. You may do even that––fer a spell. The +Jedge counts on yer takin’ to the law like a duck +does to water. You may, but law larnin’, cow +punchin’, and story writin’ ’ll jest be steppin’ +stuns to what I know you air goin’ ter be, and +what I know is in you ter be.”</p> +<p>“What in the world is that, Uncle Barnabas?” +asked David in surprise. “A farmer?”</p> +<p>“Farmer, nuthin’!” scoffed Barnabas. “Yer +hain’t much on farmin’, Dave, though I will +say yer furrers is allers straight, like everythin’ +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113' name='page_113'></a>113</span> +else you do. Yer straight yerself. No! young +hickory can bend without breakin’, and thar’s +jest one thing I want fer you to be.”</p> +<p>“What?” persisted the boy.</p> +<p>Barnabas whispered something.</p> +<p>The blood of the young country boy went like +wine through his veins; his heart leaped with a +big and mighty purpose.</p> +<p>“Now, remember, Dave,” cautioned Barnabas, +“what all work and no play done to Jack. +You git yer lessons perfect, and recite them, +and read a leetle of an evenin’; the rest of the +time I want yer to get out and cerkilate.”</p> +<p>November with its call to quiet woods came +on, and David was eager to “cerkilate.” He +became animated with the spirit of sport. Red-letter +Saturdays were spent with Uncle Larimy, +and the far-away echo of the hunter’s bullet and +the scudding through the woods of startled game +became new, sweet music to his ears. Rifle in +hand, with dog shuffling at his heels or plunging +ahead in search of game, the world was his. Life +was very full and happy, save for the one inevitable +sprig of bitter––Jud! The big bully of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114' name='page_114'></a>114</span> +a boy had learned that David was his equal physically +and his superior mentally, but the fear of +David and of David’s good standing kept him +from venturing out in the open; so from cover +he sought by all the arts known to craftiness to +harass the younger boy, whose patience this test +tried most sorely.</p> +<p>One day when Little Teacher had given him +a verbose definition of the word “pestiferous,” +David looked at her comprehendingly. “Like +Jud,” he murmured.</p> +<p>Many a time his young arms ached to give Jud +another thrashing, but his mother’s parting injunction +restrained him.</p> +<p>“If only,” he sighed, “Jud belonged to some +one else!”</p> +<p>He vainly sought to find the hair line that +divided his sense of gratitude and his protection +of self-respect.</p> +<p>Winter followed, and the farm work droned. +It was a comfortable, cozy time, with breakfast +served in the kitchen on a table spread with a +gay, red cloth. Pennyroyal baked griddle-sized +cakes, delivering them one at a time direct from +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115' name='page_115'></a>115</span> +the stove to the consumer. The early hour of +lamplight made long evenings, which were beguiled +by lesson books and story-books, by an +occasional skating carnival on the river, a coasting +party at Long Hill, or a “surprise” on some +hospitable neighbor.</p> +<p>One morning he came into school with face +and eyes aglow with something more than the +mere delight of living. It meant mischief, pure +and simple, but Little Teacher was not always +discerning. She gave him a welcoming smile of +sheer sympathy with his mood. She didn’t +smile, later, when the schoolroom was distracted +by the sound of raucous laughter, feminine +screams, and a fluttering of skirts as the girls +scrambled to standing posture in their chairs. +Astonished, she looked for the cause. The cause +came her way, and the pupils had a fresh example +of the miracles wrought by a mouse, for +Little Teacher, usually the personification of +dignity and repose, screamed lustily and scudded +chairward with as much rapidity as that displayed +by the scurrying mouse as it chased for +the corner and disappeared through a knothole. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116' name='page_116'></a>116</span></p> +<p>As soon as the noiseful glee had subsided, +Little Teacher sought to recover her prided self-possession. +In a voice resonant with sternness, +she commanded silence, gazing wrathfully by +chance at little Tim Wiggins.</p> +<p>“’T was David done it,” he said in deprecating +self-defense, imagining himself accused.</p> +<p>“David Dunne,” demanded Little Teacher, +“did you bring that mouse to school?”</p> +<p>“He brung it and let it out on purpose,” informed +Tim eagerly.</p> +<p>Little Teacher never encouraged talebearing, +but she was so discomfited by the exposure of +the ruling weakness peculiar to her sex that she +decided to discipline her favorite pupil upon his +acknowledgment of guilt.</p> +<p>“You may bring your books and sit on the +platform,” she ordered indignantly.</p> +<p>David did not in the least mind his assignment +to so prominent a position, but he did mind Little +Teacher’s attitude toward him throughout the +day. He sought to propitiate her by coming to +her assistance in many little tasks, but she persistently +ignored his overtures. He then ventured +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117' name='page_117'></a>117</span> +to seek enlightenment regarding his studies, but +she coldly informed him he could remain after +school to ask his questions.</p> +<p>David began to feel troubled, and looked out +of the window for an inspiration. He found +one in the form of big, brawny, Jim Block––“Teacher’s +Jim,” as the school children all called +him.</p> +<p>“There goes Teacher’s Jim,” sang David, +<i>soto voce</i>.</p> +<p>The shot told. For the second time that day +Little Teacher showed outward and visible +signs of an inward disturbance. With a blush +she turned quickly to the window and watched +with expressive eyes the stalwart figure striding +over the rough-frozen road.</p> +<p>In an instant, however, she had recalled herself +to earth, and David’s dancing eyes renewed +her hostility toward him. Toward the end of +the day she began to feel somewhat appeased by +his docility and evident repentance. Her manner +had perceptibly changed by the time the +closing exercise began. This was the writing of +words on the blackboard for the pupils to use +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118' name='page_118'></a>118</span> +in sentences. She pointed to the first word, “income.”</p> +<p>“Who can make a sentence and use that word +correctly?” she asked.</p> +<p>“Do call on Tim,” whispered David. “He so +loves to be the first to tell anything.”</p> +<p>She smiled her appreciation of Tim’s prominent +characteristic, and looked at the youngster, +who was wringing his hand in an agony of +eagerness. She gave him the floor, and he +jumped to his feet in triumph, yelling:</p> +<p>“In come a mouse!”</p> +<p>This was too much for David’s composure, +and he gave way to an infectious fit of laughter, +in which the pupils joined.</p> +<p>Little Teacher found the allusion personal +and uncomfortable. She at once assumed her +former distant mien, demanding David’s presence +after school closed.</p> +<p>“You have no gratitude, David,” she stated +emphatically.</p> +<p>The boy winced, and his eyes darkened with +concern, as he remembered his mother’s parting +injunction. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119' name='page_119'></a>119</span></p> +<p>Little Teacher softened slightly.</p> +<p>“You are sorry, aren’t you, David?” she asked +gently.</p> +<p>He looked at her meditatively.</p> +<p>“No, Teacher,” he answered quietly.</p> +<p>She flushed angrily.</p> +<p>“David Dunne, you may go home, and you +needn’t come back to school again until you tell +me you are sorry.”</p> +<p>David took his books and walked serenely +from the room. He went home by the way of +Jim Block’s farm.</p> +<p>“Hullo, Dave!” called Big Jim, who was in +the barnyard.</p> +<p>“Hello, Jim! I came to tell you some good +news. You said if you were only sure there was +something Teacher was afraid of, you wouldn’t +feel so scared of her.”</p> +<p>“Well,” prompted Jim eagerly.</p> +<p>“I thought I’d find out for you, so I took a +mouse to school and let it loose.”</p> +<p>“Gee!”</p> +<p>David then related the occurrences of the +morning, not omitting the look in Little +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120' name='page_120'></a>120</span> +Teacher’s eyes when she beheld Jim from the +window.</p> +<p>“I’ll hook up this very night and go to see +her,” confided Jim.</p> +<p>“Be sure you do, Jim. If you find your courage +slipping, just remember that you owe it to +me, because she won’t let me come back to school +unless she knows why I wasn’t sorry.”</p> +<p>“I give you my word, Dave,” said Jim earnestly.</p> +<p>The next morning Little Teacher stopped at +the Brumble farm.</p> +<p>“I came this way to walk to school with you +and Janey,” she said sweetly and significantly +to David.</p> +<p>When they reached the road, and Janey had +gone back to get her sled, Little Teacher looked +up and caught the amused twinkle in David’s +eye. A wave of conscious red overspread her +cheeks.</p> +<p>“Must I say I am sorry now?” he asked.</p> +<p>“David Dunne, there are things you understand +which you never learned from books.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121' name='page_121'></a>121</span></p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.3em;margin-bottom:40px; margin-top:70px;;'>CHAPTER XI</p> +<p>Late spring brought preparations for +M’ri’s wedding. Rhody Crabbe’s needle +and fingers flew in rapturous speed, and there +was likewise engaged a seamstress from Lafferton. +Rhody had begged for the making of the +wedding gown, and when it was finished David +went to fetch it home.</p> +<p>“It’s almost done, David, and you tell M’ri +the last stitch was a loveknot. It’s most a year +sence you wuz here afore, a-waitin’ fer her +blue waist tew be finished. Remember, don’t +you, David?”</p> +<p>He remembered, and as she stitched he sat +silently reviewing that year, the comforts received, +the pleasures pursued, and, best of all, +the many things he had learned, but the recollection +that a year ago his mother had been living +brought a rush of sad memories and blotted out +happier thoughts.</p> +<p>“I wish yer ma could hev seen Mart and M’ri +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122' name='page_122'></a>122</span> +merried. She was orful disapp’inted when they +broke off.”</p> +<p>There was no reply. Rhody’s sharp little +eyes, in upward glance, spied the trickling tear; +she looked quickly away and stitched in furious +haste.</p> +<p>“But, my!” she continued, as if there had been +no pause, “how glad she would be to know ’t was +you as fetched it around.”</p> +<p>David looked up, diverted and inquiring.</p> +<p>“Yes; I learnt it from M’ri. She told me +about the flowers you give him. I thought it +was jest sweet in you, David. You done good +work thar.”</p> +<p>“Miss Rhody,” said David earnestly, “maybe +some day I can get you a sweetheart.”</p> +<p>“’T ain’t no use, David,” she sighed. “No +one wants a plain critter like me.”</p> +<p>“Lots of them don’t marry for looks,” argued +David sagely. “Besides, you look fine in your +black silk, and your hair crimped. Joe thinks +your picture is great. He’s got it on a shelf +over his fireplace at the ranch.”</p> +<p>“Most likely some cowboy’ll see it and lose +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123' name='page_123'></a>123</span> +his heart,” laughed Miss Rhody, “but thar, the +weddin’ dress is all done. You go home and +quit thinkin’ about gittin’ me a man. I ain’t +ha’nted by the thought of endin’ single.”</p> +<p>Great preparations for the wedding progressed +at the Brumble farm. For a week +Pennyroyal whipped up eggs and sugar, and +David ransacked the woods for evergreens and +berries with which to decorate the big barn, +where the dance after the wedding was to take +place.</p> +<p>The old farmhouse was filled to overflowing +on the night of the wedding. After the ceremony, +Miss Rhody, resplendent in the black +silk and waving hair loosed from the crimping +pins that had confined it for two days and +nights, came up to David.</p> +<p>“My, David, I’ve got the funniest all over +feelin’ from seein’ Mart and M’ri merried! I +was orful afeerd I’d cry.”</p> +<p>“Sit down, Miss Rhody,” said David, gallantly +bringing her a chair.</p> +<p>“Didn’t M’ri look perfeckly beyewtiful?” +she continued, after accomplishing the pirouette +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124' name='page_124'></a>124</span> +that prevented creases. “And Mart, he looked +that proud, and solemn too. It made me think +of that gal when she spoke ‘Curfew shall not ring +tewnight’ at the schoolhouse. Every one looks +fine. I hain’t seen Barnabas so fussed up sence +Libby Sukes’ funyral. It makes him look real +spry. And whoever got Larimer Sasser to perk +up and put on a starched shirt!”</p> +<p>“I think,” confided David, “that Penny got +after him. She had him in a corner when he +came, and she tied his necktie so tight I was +afraid she would choke him.”</p> +<p>“Look at old Miss Pankey, David. She, as +rich as they make ’em, and a-wearin’ that old +silk! It looks as ef it hed bin hung up fer you +and Jud to shoot at. Ain’t she a-glarin’ and +a-sniffin’ at me, though? Say, David, you write +Joe that if M’ri did look the purtiest of any one +that my dress cost more’n any one’s here, and +showed it, too. I hope thar’ll be a lot of occasions +to wear it to this summer. M’ri is a-goin’ +to give a reception when she gits back from her +tower, and that’ll be one thing to wear it at. +Ain’t Jud got a mean look? He’s as crooked +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125' name='page_125'></a>125</span> +as a dog’s hind leg. But, say, David, that’s a +fine suit you’re a-wearin’. You look handsome. +Thar ain’t a stingy hair on Barnabas’ head. +He’s doin’ jest as good by you as he is by Jud. +Don’t little Janey look like an angel in white, +and them lovely beads Joe give her? I can’t +think of nothin’ else but that little Eva you read +me about. I shouldn’t wonder a bit, David, if +I come to yer and Janey’s weddin’ yet!” she said, +as Janey came dancing up to them.</p> +<p>A slow flush mounted to his forehead, but +Janey laughed merrily.</p> +<p>“I’ve promised Joe I’d wait for him,” she +said roguishly.</p> +<p>“She’s only foolin’ and so wuz he,” quickly +spoke Miss Rhody, seeing the hurt look in +David’s eyes. “Barnabas,” she asked, stopping +him as he passed, “you air a-goin’ to miss M’ri +turrible. You could never manige if it wa’n’t +fer Penny. Won’t she hev the time of her life +cleanin’ up after this weddin’? She’ll enjoy it +more’n she did gettin’ ready fer it.”</p> +<p>“I hope Penny won’t go to gittin’ merried––not +till Janey’s growed up.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126' name='page_126'></a>126</span></p> +<p>“David’s a great help to you, too, Barnabas.”</p> +<p>“Dave! I don’t know how I ever got along +afore he came. He’s so willin’ and so honest. +He’s as good as gold. Only fault he’s got is a +quick temper. He’s doin’ purty fair with it, +though. If only Jud––”</p> +<p>He stopped, with a sigh, and Rhody hastened +to change the subject.</p> +<p>“You’re a-lookin’ spry to-night, Barnabas. +I hain’t seen you look so spruce in a long time.”</p> +<p>“You look mighty tasty yerself, Rhody.”</p> +<p>This interchange of compliments was interrupted +by the announcement of supper.</p> +<p>“I never set down to sech a repast,” thought +Miss Rhody. “I’m glad I didn’t feed much to-day. +I don’t know whether to take chickin +twice, or to try all them meltin’, flaky lookin’ +pies. And jest see them layer cakes!”</p> +<p>After supper adjournment was made to the +barn, where the fiddles were already swinging +madly. Every one caught the spirit, and even +Miss Rhody finally succumbed to Barnabas’ insistence. +Pennyroyal captured Uncle Larimy, +and when Janey whirled away in the arms of a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127' name='page_127'></a>127</span> +schoolmate, David, who had never learned to +dance, stood isolated. He felt lonely and depressed, +and recalled the expression in which Joe +Forbes had explained life after he had acquired a +stepmother. “I was always on the edge of the +fireside,” he had said.</p> +<p>“Dave,” expostulated Uncle Barnabas, as +soon as he could get his breath after the last +dance, “you’d better eddicate yer heels as well +as yer head. It’s unnateral fer a colt and a boy +not to kick up their heels. You don’t never want +to be a looker-on at nuthin’ excep’ from ch’ice. +You’d orter be a stand-in on everything that’s +a-goin’ instead of a stand-by. The stand-bys +never git nowhar.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128' name='page_128'></a>128</span></p> +<p class='tp' style='font-style:italic;font-size:1.2em;margin-bottom:1em;margin-top:70px;'>PART TWO</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.3em;margin-bottom:40px;'>CHAPTER I</p> +<p>David Dunne at eighteen was graduated +from the high school in Lafferton +after five colorless years in which study and farm +work alternated. Throughout this period he +had continued to incur the rancor of Jud, whose +youthful scrapes had gradually developed into +brawls and carousals. The Judge periodically +extricated him from serious entanglements, and +Barnabas continued optimistic in his expectations +of a time when Jud should “settle.” On one +occasion Jud sneeringly accused David of +“working the old man for a share in the farm,” +and taunted him with the fact that he was big +enough and strong enough to hustle for himself +without living on charity. David started on a +tramp through the woods to face the old issue +and decide his fate. He had then one more year +before he could finish school and carry out a +long-cherished dream of college. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129' name='page_129'></a>129</span></p> +<p>He was at a loss to know just where to turn +at the present time for a home where he could +work for his board and attend school. The +Judge and M’ri had gone abroad; Joe was on +his ranch; the farmers needed no additional help.</p> +<p>He had been walking swiftly in unison with +his thoughts, and when he came out of the woods +into the open he was only a mile downstream +from town. Upon the river bank stood Uncle +Larimy, skillfully swirling his line.</p> +<p>“Wanter try yer luck, Dave?”</p> +<p>“I have no luck just now, Uncle Larimy,” replied +the boy sadly.</p> +<p>Uncle Larimy shot him a quick, sidelong +glance.</p> +<p>“Then move on, Dave, and chase arter it. +Thar’s allers luck somewhar. Jest like fishin’. +You can’t set in one spot and wait for luck tew +come to you like old Zeke Foss does. You must +keep a-castin’.”</p> +<p>“I don’t know where to cast, Uncle Larimy.”</p> +<p>Uncle Larimy pondered. He knew that Jud +was home, and he divined David’s trend of +thought. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130' name='page_130'></a>130</span></p> +<p>“You can’t stick to a plank allers, Dave, ef +you wanter amount tew anything. Strike out +bold, and swim without any life presarvers. +You might jest as well be a sleepy old cat in a +corner as to go smoothsailin’ through life.”</p> +<p>“I feel that I have got to strike out, and at +once, Uncle Larimy, but I don’t just know where +to strike.”</p> +<p>“Wal, Dave, it’s what we’ve all got to find +out fer ourselves. It’s a leap in the dark like, +and ef you don’t land nowhere, take another +leap, and keep a-goin’ somewhar.”</p> +<p>David wended his way homeward, pondering +over Uncle Larimy’s philosophy. When he +went with Barnabas to do the milking that night +he broached the subject of leaving the farm.</p> +<p>“I know how Jud feels about my being here, +Uncle Barnabas.”</p> +<p>“What did he say to you?” asked the old man +anxiously.</p> +<p>“Nothing. I overheard a part of your conversation. +He is right. And if I stay here, he +will run away to sea. He told the fellows in +Lafferton he would.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131' name='page_131'></a>131</span></p> +<p>“You are going to stay, Dave.”</p> +<p>“You won’t like to think you drove your son +away. If he gets into trouble, both you and I +will feel we are to blame.”</p> +<p>“Dave, I see why the Jedge hez got it all cut +out fer you to be a lawyer. You’ve got the +argyin’ habit strong. But you can’t argue me +into what I see is wrong. This is the place fer +you to be, and Jud ’ll hev to come outen his +spell.”</p> +<p>“Then let me go away until he does. You +must give him every chance.”</p> +<p>“Where’ll you go?” asked Barnabas curiously.</p> +<p>“I don’t know, yet,” said the boy, “but I’ll +think out a plan to-night.”</p> +<p>It was Jud, after all, who cut the Gordian +knot, and made one of his welcome disappearances, +which lasted until David was ready to +start in college. His savings, that he had accumulated +by field work in the summers and a +very successful poultry business for six years, +netted him four hundred dollars.</p> +<p>“One hundred dollars for each year,” he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132' name='page_132'></a>132</span> +thought exultantly. “That will be ample with +the work I shall find to do.”</p> +<p>Then he made known to his friends his long-cherished +scheme of working his way through +college. The Judge laughed.</p> +<p>“Your four hundred dollars, David, will +barely get you through the first year. After +that, I shall gladly pay your expenses, for as +soon as you are admitted to the bar you are to +come into my office, of course.”</p> +<p>David demurred.</p> +<p>“I shall work my way through college,” he +said firmly.</p> +<p>He next told Barnabas of his intention and +the Judge’s offer which he had declined.</p> +<p>“I’m glad you refused, Dave. You’ll only be +in his office till you’re ripe fer what I kin make +you. I’ve larnt that the law is a good foundation +as a sure steppin’ stone tew it, so you kin hev +a taste of it. But the Jedge ain’t a-goin’ to pay +yer expenses.”</p> +<p>“I don’t mean that he shall,” replied David. +“I want to pay my own way.”</p> +<p>“I’m a-goin’ to send you tew college and send +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133' name='page_133'></a>133</span> +you right. No starvin’ and garret plan fer you. +I’ve let Joe and the Jedge do fer you as much +as they’re a-goin’ to, but you’re mine from now +on. It’s what I’d do fer my own son if he cared +fer books, and you’re as near to me ez ef you +were my son.”</p> +<p>“It’s too much, Uncle Barnabas.”</p> +<p>“And, David,” he continued, unheeding the +interruption, “I hope you’ll really be my son +some day.”</p> +<p>A look of such exquisite happiness came into +the young eyes that Barnabas put out his hand +silently. In the firm hand-clasp they both +understood.</p> +<p>“I am not going to let you help me through +college, though, Uncle Barnabas. It has always +been my dream to earn my own education. +When you pay for anything yourself, it seems +so much more your own than when it’s a gift.”</p> +<p>“Let him, Barnabas,” again counseled Uncle +Larimy. “Folks must feed diff’rent. Thar’s +the sweet-fed which must allers hev sugar, but +salt’s the savor for Dave. He’s the kind that +flourishes best in the shade.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134' name='page_134'></a>134</span></p> +<p>Janey wrote to Joe of David’s plan, and there +promptly came a check for one thousand dollars, +which David as promptly returned. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135' name='page_135'></a>135</span></p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.3em;margin-bottom:40px; margin-top:70px;;'>CHAPTER II</p> +<p>A few days before the time set for his departure +David set out on a round of farewell +visits to the country folk. It was one of +those cold, cheerless days that intervene between +the first haze of autumn and the golden glow of +October. He had never before realized how +lonely the shiver of wind through the poplars +could sound. Two innovations had been made +that day in the country. The rural delivery carrier, +in his little house on wheels, had made his +first delivery, and a track for the new electric-car +line was laid through the sheep meadow. +This inroad of progress upon the sanctity of +their seclusion seemed sacrilegious to David, +who longed to have lived in the olden time of +log houses, with their picturesque open fires and +candle lights. Following some vague inward +call, he went out of his way to ride past the tiny +house he had once called home, and which in all +his ramblings he had steadfastly avoided. He +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136' name='page_136'></a>136</span> +had heard that the place had passed into the +hands of a widow with an only son, and that +they had purchased surrounding land for cultivation. +He had been glad to hear this, and had +liked to fancy the son caring for his mother as +he himself would have cared for his mother had +she lived.</p> +<p>As he neared the little nutshell of a house his +heart beat fast at the sight of a woman pinning +clothes to the line. Her fingers, stiff and swollen, +moved slowly. The same instinct that had +guided him down this road made him dismount +and tie his horse. The old woman came slowly +down the little path to meet him.</p> +<p>“I am David Dunne,” he said gently, “and I +used to live here. I wanted to come to see my +old home once more.”</p> +<p>He thought that the dim eyes gazing into his +were the saddest he had ever beheld.</p> +<p>“Yes,” she replied, with the slow, German accent, +“I know of you. Come in.”</p> +<p>He followed her into the little sitting room, +which was as barren of furnishings as it had +been in the olden days. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137' name='page_137'></a>137</span></p> +<p>“Sit down,” she invited.</p> +<p>He took a chair opposite a cheap picture of a +youth in uniform. A flag of coarse material +was pinned above this portrait, and underneath +was a roughly carved bracket on which was a +glass filled with goldenrod.</p> +<p>“You lived here with your mother,” she said +musingly, “and she was taken. I lived here +with my son, and––he was taken.”</p> +<p>“Oh!” said David. “I did not know––was +he––”</p> +<p>His eyes sought the picture on the wall.</p> +<p>“Yes,” she replied, answering his unspoken +question, as she lifted her eyes to her little +shrine, “he enlisted and went to the Philippines. +He died there of fever more than a year ago.”</p> +<p>David was silent. His brown, boyish hand +shaded his eyes. It had been his fault that he +had not heard of this old woman and the loss of +her son. He had shrunk from all knowledge +and mention of this little home and its inmates. +The country folk had recognized and respected +his reticence, which to people near the soil seems +natural. This had been the only issue in his life +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138' name='page_138'></a>138</span> +that he had dodged, and he was bitterly repenting +his negligence. In memory of his +mother, he should have helped the lonely old +woman.</p> +<p>“You were left a poor, helpless boy,” she +continued, “and I am left a poor, helpless old +woman. The very young and the very old +meet in their helplessness, yet there is hope for +the one––nothing for the other.”</p> +<p>“Yes, memories,” he suggested softly, “and +the pride you feel in his having died as he did.”</p> +<p>“There is that,” she acknowledged with a +sigh, “and if only I could live on here in this little +place where we have been so happy! But I +must leave it.”</p> +<p>“Why?” asked David quickly.</p> +<p>“After my Carl died, things began to happen. +When once they do that, there is no stopping. +The bank at the Corners failed, and I +lost my savings. The turkeys wandered away, +the cow died, and now there’s the mortgage. +It’s due to-morrow, and then––the man that +holds it will wait no longer. So it is the poorhouse, +which I have always dreaded.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139' name='page_139'></a>139</span></p> +<p>David’s head lifted, and his eyes shone radiantly +as he looked into the tired, hopeless +eyes.</p> +<p>“Your mortgage will be paid to-morrow, +and––Don’t you draw a pension for your son?”</p> +<p>She looked at him in a dazed way.</p> +<p>“No, there is no pension––I––”</p> +<p>“Judge Thorne will get you one,” he said optimistically, +as he rose, ready for action, “and +how much is the mortgage?”</p> +<p>“Three hundred dollars,” she said despairingly.</p> +<p>“Almost as much as the place is worth. Who +holds the mortgage?”</p> +<p>“Deacon Prickley.”</p> +<p>“You see,” said David, trying to speak casually, +“I have three hundred dollars lying idle +for which I have no use. I’ll ride to town now +and have the Judge see that the place is clear to +you, and he will get you a pension, twelve dollars +a month.”</p> +<p>The worn, seamed face lifted to his was transfigured +by its look of beatitude.</p> +<p>“You mustn’t,” she implored. “I didn’t +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140' name='page_140'></a>140</span> +know about the pension. That will keep me, and +I can find another little place somewhere. But +the money you offer––no! I have heard how +you have been saving to go through school.”</p> +<p>He smiled.</p> +<p>“Uncle Barnabas and the Judge are anxious +to pay my expenses at college, and––you <i>must</i> +let me. I would like to think, don’t you see, that +you are living here in my old home. It will +seem to me as if I were doing it for <i>my</i> mother––as +I would want some boy to do for her if she +were left––and it’s my country’s service he died +in. I would rather buy this little place for you, +and know that you are living here, than to buy +anything else in the world.”</p> +<p>The old face was quite beautiful now.</p> +<p>“Then I will let you,” she said tremulously. +“You see, I am a hard-working woman and +quite strong, but folks won’t believe that, because +I am old; so they won’t hire me to do their +work, and they say I should go to the poorhouse. +But to old folks there’s nothing like +having your own things and your own ways. +They get to be a part of you. I was thinking +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141' name='page_141'></a>141</span> +when you rode up that it would kill me not to +see the frost on the old poplar, and not to cover +up my geraniums on the chill nights.”</p> +<p>Something stirred in David’s heart like pain. +He stooped and kissed her gently. Then he +rode away, rejoicing that he had worked to this +end. Four hours later he rode back to the little +home.</p> +<p>“The Judge has paid over the money to Old +Skinflint Prickley,” he said blithely, “and the +place is all yours. The deacon had compounded +the interest, which is against the laws of the +state, so here are a few dollars to help tide you +over until the Judge gets the pension for you.”</p> +<p>“David,” she said solemnly, “an old woman’s +prayers may help you, and some day, when you +are a great man, you will do great deeds, but +none of them will be as great as that which you +have done to-day.”</p> +<p>David rode home with the echo of this benediction +in his ears. He had asked the Judge to +keep the transaction secret, but of course the +Judge told Barnabas, who in turn informed +Uncle Larimy. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142' name='page_142'></a>142</span></p> +<p>“I told the boy when his ma died,” said Uncle +Larimy, “that things go ’skew sometimes, but +that the sun would shine. The sun will allers be +a-shinin’ fer him when he does such deeds as +this.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143' name='page_143'></a>143</span></p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.3em;margin-bottom:40px; margin-top:70px;;'>CHAPTER III</p> +<p>The fare to his college town, his books, and +his tuition so depleted David’s capital of +one hundred dollars that he hastened to deposit +the balance for an emergency. Then he set +about to earn his “keep,” as he had done in the +country, but there were many students bent on +a similar quest and he soon found that the demand +for labor was exceeded by the supply.</p> +<p>Before the end of the first week he was able to +write home that he had found a nice, quiet lodging +in exchange for the care of a furnace in +winter and the trimming of a lawn in other +seasons, and that he had secured a position as +waiter to pay for his meals; also that there was +miscellaneous employment to pay for his washing +and incidentals.</p> +<p>He didn’t go into details and explain that the +“nice quiet lodging” was a third-floor rear whose +gables gave David’s six feet of length but little +leeway. It was quiet because the third floor was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144' name='page_144'></a>144</span> +not heated, and its occupants therefore stayed +away as much as possible. His services as +waiter were required only at dinner time, in exchange +for which he received that meal. His +breakfast and luncheon he procured as best he +could; sometimes he dispensed with them entirely. +Crackers, milk, and fruit, as the cheapest +articles of diet, appeared oftenest on his ménu. +Sometimes he went fishing and surreptitiously +smuggled the cream of the catch up to his little +abode, for Mrs. Tupps’ “rules to roomers,” as +affixed to the walls, were explicit: “No cooking +or washing allowed in rooms.” But Mrs. Tupps, +like her fires, was nearly always out, for she was +a member of the Woman’s Relief Corps, Ladies’ +Aid, Ladies’ Guild, Woman’s League, Suffragette +Society, Pioneer Society, and Eastern +Star. At the meetings of these various societies +she was constant in attendance, so in her absence +her roomers “made hay,” as David termed it, +cooking their provender and illicitly performing +laundry work in the bathtub. Still, there must +always be “on guard” duty, for Mrs. Tupps was +a stealthy stalker. One saw her not, but now +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145' name='page_145'></a>145</span> +and then there was a faint rustle on the stair. +David’s eyes and ears, trained to keenness, were +patient and vigilant, so he was generally chosen +as sentinel, and he acquired new caution, adroitness, +and a quietness of movement.</p> +<p>There had been three or four close calls. +Once, she had knocked at his door as he was +in the act of boiling eggs over the gas jet. In +the twinkling of an eye the saucepan was thrust +under the bed, and David, sweet and serene of +expression, opened the door to the inquisitive-eyed +Tupps.</p> +<p>“I came to borrow a pen,” she said shamelessly, +her eyes penetrating the cracks and crevices +of the little room.</p> +<p>David politely regretted that he used an indelible +pencil and possessed no pens.</p> +<p>In the act of removing all records and remains +of feasts, David became an adept. Neat, +unsuspicious looking parcels were made and conveyed, +after retiring hours, to a near-by vacant +lot, where once had been visible an excavation +for a cellar, but this had been filled to street level +with tin cans, paper bags, butter bowls, cracker +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146' name='page_146'></a>146</span> +cases, egg shells, and pie plates from the House +of Tupps.</p> +<p>His miscellaneous employment, mentioned in +his letter, was any sort of work he could find +to do.</p> +<p>David became popular with professors by reason +of his record in classes and the application +and concentration he brought to his studies. His +prowess in all sports, his fairness, and the spirit +of <i>camaraderie</i> he always maintained with his +associates, made him a general favorite. He +wore fairly good clothes, was well groomed, and +always in good spirits, so of his privations and +poverty only one or two of those closest to him +were even suspicious. He was entirely reticent +on the subject, though open and free in all other +discourse, and permitted no encroachment on +personal matters. One or two chance offenders +intuitively perceived a slight but impassable +barrier.</p> +<p>“Dunne has grown a little gaunt-eyed since +he first came here,” said one of his chosen friends +to a classmate one evening. “He’s outdoors +enough to counteract overstudy. But do you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147' name='page_147'></a>147</span> +suppose he has enough to eat? So many of +these fellows live on next to nothing.”</p> +<p>“I shouldn’t be surprised if he were on rations. +You know he always makes some excuse +when we invite him to a spread. He’s too +proud to accept favors and not reciprocate, I +believe.”</p> +<p>David overheard these remarks, and a very +long walk was required to restore his serenity. +During this walk he planned to get some extra +work that would insure him compensation requisite +to provide a modest spread so that he +might allay their suspicions. Upon his return +to his lodgings he found an enormous box which +had come by express from Lafferton. It +contained Pennyroyal’s best culinary efforts; +also four dozen eggs, a two-pound pat of butter, +coffee, and a can of cream.</p> +<p>He propitiated Mrs. Tupps by the proffer +of a dozen of the eggs and told her of his desire +to entertain his friends. It would be impossible +to do this in his room, for when he lay +in bed he could touch every piece of furniture +with but little effort. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148' name='page_148'></a>148</span></p> +<p>David had become his landlady’s confidant +and refuge in time of trouble, and she was willing +to allow him the privilege of the dining +room.</p> +<p>“I am going away to-night for a couple of +days, but I would rather you wouldn’t mention +it to the others. You may have the use of the +dining room and the dishes.”</p> +<p>David’s friends were surprised to receive an +off-hand invitation from him to “drop in for a +little country spread.” They were still more +surprised when they beheld the long table with +its sumptuous array of edibles,––raised biscuits, +golden butter, cold chicken, pickles, jelly, sugared +doughnuts, pork cake, gold and silver +cake, crullers, mince pie, apple pie, cottage +cheese, cider, and coffee.</p> +<p>“It looks like a county fair exhibit, Dunne,” +said a city-bred chap.</p> +<p>Six healthy young appetites did justice to +this repast and insured David’s acceptance of +five invitations to dine. It took Mrs. Tupps +and David fully a week to consume the remnants +of this collation. The eggs he bestowed +upon an anemic-faced lodger who had been prescribed +a milk and egg diet, but with eggs at +fifty cents a dozen he had not filled his prescription.</p> +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_4' id='linki_4'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-148.jpg' alt='' title='' width='373' height='543' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +“<i>David’s friends were surprised to receive an off-hand invitation<br /> +from him to ‘drop in for a little country spread’</i>”<br /> +</p> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149' name='page_149'></a>149</span></div> +<p>At the end of the college year David went +back to the farm, and a snug sense of comfort +and a home-longing filled him at the sight of +the old farmhouse, its lawn stretching into gardens, +its gardens into orchards, orchards +into meadows, and meadows into woodlands. +Through the long, hot summer he tilled the +fields, and invested the proceeds in clothes and +books for the ensuing year.</p> +<p>There followed three similar years of a hand-to-mouth +existence, the privations of which he +endured in silence. There were little occasional +oases, such as boxes from Pennyroyal, or extra +revenue now and then from tutoring, but there +were many, many days when his healthy young +appetite clamored in vain for appeasement. On +such days came the temptation to borrow from +Barnabas the money to finish his course in comfort, +but the young conqueror never yielded +to this enticement. He grew stronger and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150' name='page_150'></a>150</span> +sturdier in spirit after each conflict, but lost +something from his young buoyancy and elasticity +which he could never regain. His struggles +added a touch of grimness to his old sense of +humor, but when he was admitted to the bar he +was a man in courage, strength, and endurance. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151' name='page_151'></a>151</span></p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.3em;margin-bottom:40px; margin-top:70px;;'>CHAPTER IV</p> +<p>It seemed to David, when he was at the farm +again, that in his absence time had stood +still, except with Janey. She was a slender slip +of a girl, gentle voiced and soft hearted. Her +eyes were infinitely blue and lovely, and there +was a glad little ring in her voice when she +greeted “Davey.”</p> +<p>M’ri gave a cry of surprised pleasure when +she saw her former charge. He was tall, lithe, +supple, and hard-muscled. His face was not +very expressive in repose, but showed a quiet +strength when lighted by the keenness of his +serious, brown eyes and the sweetness of his +smile. His color was a deep-sea tan.</p> +<p>“It seems so good to be alive, Aunt M’ri. I +thought I was weaned away from farm life until +I bit into one of those snow apples from the +old tree by the south corner of the orchard. +Then I knew I was home.”</p> +<p>Pennyroyal shed her first visible tear. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152' name='page_152'></a>152</span></p> +<p>“I am glad you are home again, David,” she +sniffed. “You were always such a clean boy.”</p> +<p>“I missed you more’n any one did, David,” +acknowledged Miss Rhody. “Ef I hed been +a Catholic I should a felt as ef the confessional +hed been took from me. I ain’t hed no one to +talk secret like to excep’ when Joe comes onct +a year. He ain’t been fer a couple of years, +either, but he sent me anuther black dress the +other day––silk, like the last one. To think of +little Joe Forbes a-growin’ up and keepin’ me +in silk dresses!”</p> +<p>“I’ll buy your next one for you,” declared +David emphatically.</p> +<p>The next day after his return from college +David started his legal labors under the watchful +eye of the Judge. He made a leap-frog +progress in acquiring an accurate knowledge of +legal lore. He worked and waited patiently +for the Judge’s recognition of his readiness +to try his first case, and at last the eventful +time came.</p> +<p>“No; there isn’t the slightest prospect of his +winning it,” the Judge told his wife that night. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153' name='page_153'></a>153</span></p> +<p>“The prosecution has strong evidence, and we +have nothing––barely a witness of any account.”</p> +<p>“Then the poor man will be convicted and +David will gain no glory,” lamented M’ri. “It +means so much to a young lawyer to win his +first case.”</p> +<p>The Judge smiled.</p> +<p>“Neither of them needs any sympathy. +Miggs ought to have been sent over the road long +ago. David’s got to have experience before he +gains glory.”</p> +<p>“How did you come to take such a case?” +asked M’ri, for the Judge was quite exclusive +in his acceptance of clients.</p> +<p>“It was David’s doings,” said the Judge, with +a frown that had a smile lurking behind it.</p> +<p>“Why did he wish you to take the case?” +persisted M’ri.</p> +<p>“As near as I can make out,” replied the +Judge, with a slight softening of his grim +features, “it was because Miggs’ wife takes in +washing when Miggs is celebrating.”</p> +<p>M’ri walked quickly to the window, murmuring +some unintelligible sound of endearment. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154' name='page_154'></a>154</span></p> +<p>On the day of the summing-up at the trial +the court room was crowded. There were the +habitual court hangers on, David’s country +friends <i>en masse</i>, a large filling in at the back +of the representatives of the highways and +byways, associates of the popular wrongdoer, +and the legal lore of the town, with the good-humored +patronage usually bestowed by the +profession on the newcomer to their ranks.</p> +<p>As the Judge had said, his client was conceded +to be slated for conviction. If he had made the +argument himself he would have made it in his +usual cool, well-poised manner. But David, although +he knew Miggs to be a veteran of the +toughs, felt sure of his innocence in this case, +and he was determined to battle for him, not for +the sake of justice alone, but for the sake of +the tired-looking washerwoman he had seen +bending over the tubs. This was an occupation +she had to resort to only in her husband’s times +of indulgence, for he was a wage earner in his +days of soberness.</p> +<p>When David arose to speak it seemed to the +people assembled that the coil of evidence, as +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155' name='page_155'></a>155</span> +reviewed by the prosecutor in his argument, was +drawn too closely for any power to extricate the +victim.</p> +<p>At the first words of the young lawyer, +uttered in a voice of winning mellowness, the +public forgot the facts in the case. Swayed by +the charm of David’s personality, a current of +new-born sympathy for the prisoner ran through +the court room.</p> +<p>David came up close to the jury and, as he +addressed them, he seemed to be oblivious of +the presence of any one else in the room. It +was as though he were telling them, his friends, +something he alone knew, and that he was sure +of their belief in his statements.</p> +<p>“For all the world,” thought M’ri, listening, +“as he used to tell stories when he was a +boy. He’d fairly make you believe they were +true.”</p> +<p>To be sure the jury were all his friends; they +had known him when he was little “barefoot +Dave Dunne.” Still, they were captivated by +this new oratory, warm, vivid, and inspiring, +delivered to the accompaniment of dulcet and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156' name='page_156'></a>156</span> +seductive tones that transported them into an +enchanted world. Their senses were stirred in +the same way they would be if a flag were unfurled.</p> +<p>“Sounds kind o’ like orgin music,” whispered +Miss Rhody.</p> +<p>Yet underneath the eloquence was a logical +simplicity, a keen sifting of facts, the exposure +of flaws in the circumstantial evidence. There +was a force back of what he said like the force +back of the projectile. About the form of the +hardened sinner, Miggs, David drew a circle of +innocence that no one ventured to cross. Simply, +convincingly, and concisely he summed up, +with a forceful appeal to their intelligence, their +honor, and their justice.</p> +<p>The reply by the assistant to the prosecutor +was perfunctory and ineffective. The charge +of the judge was neutral. The jury left the +room, and were out eight and one-quarter minutes. +As they filed in, the foreman sent a triumphant +telepathic message to David before +he quietly drawled out:</p> +<p>“Not guilty, yer Honor.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157' name='page_157'></a>157</span></p> +<p>The first movement was from Mrs. Miggs. +And she came straight to David, not to the +jury.</p> +<p>“David,” said the Judge, who had cleared his +throat desperately and wiped his glasses carefully, +at the look in the eyes of the young lawyer +when they had rested on the defendant’s +wife, “hereafter our office will be the refuge for +all the riffraff in the country.”</p> +<p>This was his only comment, but the Judge did +not hesitate to turn over any case to him +thereafter.</p> +<p>When David had added a few more victories +to his first one, Jud made one of his periodical +diversions by an offense against the law which +was far more serious in nature than his previous +misdeeds had been. M’ri came out to the farm +to discuss the matter.</p> +<p>“Barnabas, Martin thinks you had better let +the law take its course this time. He says it’s +the only procedure left untried to reform Jud. +He is sure he can get a light sentence for him––two +years.”</p> +<p>“M’ri,” said Barnabas, in a voice vibrating +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158' name='page_158'></a>158</span> +with reproach, “do you want Jud to go to +prison?”</p> +<p>M’ri paled.</p> +<p>“I want to do what is best for him, Barnabas. +Martin thinks it will be a salutary lesson.”</p> +<p>“I wonder, M’ri,” said Barnabas slowly, “if +the Judge had a son of his own, he would try +to reform him by putting him behind bars.”</p> +<p>“Oh, Barnabas!” protested M’ri, with a burst +of tears.</p> +<p>“He’s still my boy, if he is wild, M’ri.”</p> +<p>“But, Barnabas, Martin’s patience is exhausted. +He has got him out of trouble so +many times––and, oh, Barnabas, he says he +won’t under any circumstances take the case! +He is ashamed to face the court and jury with +such a palpably guilty client. I have pleaded +with him, but I can’t influence him. You know +how set he can be!”</p> +<p>“Wal, there are other lawyers,” said Barnabas +grimly.</p> +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_5' id='linki_5'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-158.jpg' alt='' title='' width='376' height='535' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +“<i>He kept his word. Jud was cleared</i>”<br /> +</p> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159' name='page_159'></a>159</span></div> +<p>David had remained silent and constrained +during this conversation, the lines of his young +face setting like steel. Suddenly he left the +house and paced up and down in the orchard, to +wrestle once more with the old problem of his +boyhood days. It was different now. Then it +had been a question of how much he must stand +from Jud for the sake of the benefits bestowed +by the offender’s father. Now it meant a sacrifice +of principle. He had made his boyish boast +that he would defend only those who were +wrongfully accused. To take this case would +be to bring his wagon down from the star. +Then suddenly he found himself disposed to +arraign himself for selfishly clinging to his +ideals.</p> +<p>He went back into the house, where M’ri was +still tearfully arguing and protesting. He +came up to Barnabas.</p> +<p>“I will clear Jud, if you will trust the case to +me, Uncle Barnabas.”</p> +<p>Barnabas grasped his hand.</p> +<p>“Bless you, Dave, my boy,” he said. “I +wanted you to, but Jud has been––wal, I didn’t +like to ask you.”</p> +<p>“David,” said M’ri, when they were alone, +“Martin said you wouldn’t take a case where +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160' name='page_160'></a>160</span> +you were convinced of the guilt of the client.”</p> +<p>“I shall take this case,” was David’s quiet +reply.</p> +<p>“Really, David, Martin thinks it will be best +for Jud––”</p> +<p>“I don’t want to do what is best for Jud, +Aunt M’ri, I want to do what is best for Uncle +Barnabas. It’s the first chance I ever had to +do anything for him.”</p> +<p>When Judge Thorne found that David was +determined to defend Jud, he gave him some +advice:</p> +<p>“You must get counter evidence, if you can, +David. If you have any lingering idea that you +can appeal to the jury on account of Barnabas +being Jud’s father, root out that idea. There’s +no chance of rural juries tempering justice with +mercy. With them it’s an eye for an eye, every +time.”</p> +<p>David had an infinitely harder task in clearing +Jud than he had had in defending Miggs. +The evidence was clear, the witnesses sure +and wary, and the prisoner universally detested +save by his evil-minded companions, but these +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161' name='page_161'></a>161</span> +obstacles brought out in full force all David’s +indomitable will and alertness. He tipped up +and entrapped the prosecution’s witnesses with +lightning dexterity. One of them chanced to +be a man whom David had befriended, and he +aided him by replying shrewdly in Jud’s favor.</p> +<p>But it was Jud himself who proved to be +David’s trump card. He was keen, crafty, and +quick to seize his lawyer’s most subtle suggestions. +His memory was accurate, and with +David’s steering he avoided all traps set for +him on cross examination. When David stood +before the jury for the most stubborn fight he +had yet made, his mother’s last piece of advice––all +she had to bequeath to him––permeated +every effort. He put into his argument all the +compelling force within him. There were no +ornate sentences this time, but he concentrated +his powers of logic and persuasiveness upon his +task. The jury was out two hours, during +which time Barnabas and Jud sat side by side, +pale and anxious, but upheld by David’s confident +assurance of victory.</p> +<p>He kept his word. Jud was cleared. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162' name='page_162'></a>162</span></p> +<p>“You’re a smart lawyer, Dave,” commented +Uncle Larimy.</p> +<p>David looked at him whimsically.</p> +<p>“I had a smart client, Uncle Larimy.”</p> +<p>“That’s what you did, Dave, but he’s gettin’ +too dernd smart. You’d a done some of us a +favor if you’d let him git sent up.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163' name='page_163'></a>163</span></p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.3em;margin-bottom:40px; margin-top:70px;;'>CHAPTER V</p> +<p>“Dave,” said Barnabas on one memorable +day, “the Jedge hez hed his innings trying +to make you a lawyer. Now it’s my turn.”</p> +<p>“All right, Uncle Barnabas, I am ready.”</p> +<p>“Hain’t you hed enough of law, Dave? +You’ve given it a good trial, and showed what +you could do. It’ll be a big help to you to know +the law, and it’ll allers be sumthin’ to fall back +on when things get slack, but ain’t you pinin’ +fer somethin’ a leetle spryer?”</p> +<p>“Yes, I am,” was the frank admission. “I +like the excitement attending a case, and the +fight to win, but it’s drudgery between times––like +soldiering in time of peace.”</p> +<p>“Wal, Dave, I’ve got a job fer you wuth +hevin’, and one that starts toward what you air +a-goin’ to be.”</p> +<p>David’s breath came quickly.</p> +<p>“What is it?”</p> +<p>“Thar’s no reason at all why you can’t go to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164' name='page_164'></a>164</span> +legislatur’ and make new laws instead of settin’ +in the Jedge’s office and larnin’ to dodge old ones. +I’m a-runnin’ politics in these parts, and I’m +a-goin’ to git you nominated. After that, you’ll +go the hull gamut––so ’t will be up the ladder +and over the wall fer you, Dave.”</p> +<p>So, David, to the astonishment of the Judge, +put his foot on the first round of the political +ladder as candidate for the legislature. At the +same time Janey returned from the school in +the East, where she had been “finished,” and +David’s heart beat an inspiring tattoo every +time he looked at her, but he was nominated by +a speech-loving, speech-demanding district, and +he had so many occasions for oratory that only +snatches of her companionship were possible +throughout the summer.</p> +<p>Joe came on to join in the excitement attending +the campaign. It had been some time +since his last visit, and he scarcely recognized +David when he met him at the Lafferton station.</p> +<p>“Well, Dave,” said the ranchman, “if you +are as strong and sure as you look, you won’t +need my help in the campaign.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165' name='page_165'></a>165</span></p> +<p>“I always need you, Joe. But you haven’t +changed in the least, unless you look more serious +than ever, perhaps.”</p> +<p>“It’s the outdoor life does that. Take a +field-bred lad, he always shies a bit at people.”</p> +<p>“Your horse does, too, I notice. He arrived +safely a week ago, and I put him up at the livery +here in Lafferton. I was afraid he would +demoralize all the horses at the farm.”</p> +<p>“Good! I’ll ride out this evening. I have +a little business to attend to here in town, and +I want to see the Judge and his wife, of course.”</p> +<p>When the western sky line gleamed in crimson +glory Joe came riding at a long lope up the +lane. He sat his spirited horse easily, one leg +thrown over the horn of his saddle. As he +neared the house, a thrashing machine started +up. The desert-bred horse shied, and performed +maneuvers terrifying to Janey, but Joe in the +saddle was ever a part of the horse. Quietly +and impassively he guided the frightened +animal until the machine was passed. Then he +slid from the horse and came up to Janey and +David, who were awaiting his coming. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166' name='page_166'></a>166</span></p> +<p>“This can never be little Janey!” he exclaimed, +holding her hand reverently.</p> +<p>“I haven’t changed as much as Davey has,” +she replied, dimpling.</p> +<p>“Oh, yes, you have! You are a woman. +David is still a boy, in spite of his six feet.”</p> +<p>“You don’t know about Davey!” she said +breathlessly. “He has won all kinds of law +cases, and he is going to the legislature.”</p> +<p>Joe laughed.</p> +<p>“I repeat, he is still a boy.”</p> +<p>On the morrow David started forth on a +round of speech making, canvassing the entire +district. He returned at the wane of October’s +golden glow for the round-up, as Joe termed +the finish of the campaign. The flaunting crimson +of the maples, the more sedate tinge of +the oaks, the vivid yellow of the birches, the +squashes piled up on the farmhouse porches, and +the fields filled with pyramidal stacks of cornstalks +brought a vague sense of loneliness as he +rode out from Lafferton to the farm. He left +his horse at the barn and came up to the house +through the old orchard as the long, slanting +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167' name='page_167'></a>167</span> +rays of sunlight were making afternoon shadows +of all who crossed their path.</p> +<p>He found Janey sitting beneath their favorite +tree. An open book lay beside her. She +was gazing abstractedly into space, with a new +look in her star-like eyes.</p> +<p>David’s big, untouched heart gave a quick +leap. He took up the book and with an exultant +little laugh discovered that it was a book of +poems! Janey, who could never abide fairy +stories, reading poetry! Surprised and embarrassed, +after a shy greeting she hurried toward +the house, her cheeks flaming. Something very +beautiful and breath-taking came into David’s +thoughts at that moment.</p> +<p>He was roused from his beatific state by the +approach of Barnabas, so he was obliged to +concentrate his attention on giving a résumé of +his tour. Then the Judge telephoned for him +to come to his office, and he was unable to finish +his business there until dusk. The night was +clear and frost touched. He left his horse in +the lane and walked up to the house. As he +came on to the porch he looked in through the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168' name='page_168'></a>168</span> +window. The bright fire on the hearth, the soft +glow of the shaded lamp, and the fair-haired +girl seated by a table, needlework in hand, gave +him a hunger for a hearth of his own.</p> +<p>Suddenly the scene shifted. Joe came in +from the next room. Janey rose to her feet, a +look of love lighting her face as she went to the +arms outstretched to receive her. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169' name='page_169'></a>169</span></p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.3em;margin-bottom:40px; margin-top:70px;;'>CHAPTER VI</p> +<p>David went back to Lafferton. The little +maid informed him that the Judge and +his wife were out for the evening; but there was +always a room in readiness for him, so he sat +alone by the window, staring into the lighted +street, trying to comprehend that Janey was not +for him.</p> +<p>It was late the next morning when he came +downstairs.</p> +<p>“I am glad, David, you decided to stay here +last night,” said M’ri, whose eyes were full of +a yearning solicitude.</p> +<p>She sat down at the table with him while he +drank his coffee.</p> +<p>“David.”</p> +<p>She spoke in a desperate tone, that caused him +to glance keenly at her.</p> +<p>“If you have anything to tell,” he said quietly, +“it’s a good plan to tell it at once.”</p> +<p>“Since you have been away Joe and Janey +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170' name='page_170'></a>170</span> +have been together constantly. It seems to +have been a case of mutual love. David, they +are engaged.”</p> +<p>“So,” he said gravely, “I am to lose my little +sister. Joe is a man in a thousand.”</p> +<p>“But, David, I had set my heart on Janey’s +marrying you, from that very first day when +you went to school together and you carried her +books. Do you remember?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” he replied whimsically, “but even then +Joe met us and took her away from me. But +I must drive out and congratulate them.”</p> +<p>M’ri gazed after him in perplexity as he left +the house.</p> +<p>“I wonder,” she mused, “if I ever quite +understood David!”</p> +<p>Miss Rhody called to David as he was passing +her house and bade him come in.</p> +<p>“You’ve hed a hard trip,” she said, with a +keen glance into his tired, boyish eyes.</p> +<p>“Very hard, Miss Rhody.”</p> +<p>“You have heard about Janey––and Joe?”</p> +<p>“Aunt M’ri just told me,” he said, wincing +ever so slightly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171' name='page_171'></a>171</span></p> +<p>“They was all sot on your being her sweetheart, +except me and her––and Joe.”</p> +<p>“Why not you, Miss Rhody?”</p> +<p>“You ain’t never been in love with Janey––not +the way you’ll love some day. When I +was sick last fall Almiry Green come over to +read to me and she brung a book of poems. I +never keered much for po’try, and Almiry, she +didn’t nuther, but she hed jest ketched Widower +Pankey, and so she thought it was proper +to be readin’ po’try. She read somethin’ about +fust love bein’ a primrose, and a-fallin’ to +make way fer the real rose, and I thought to +myself: ‘That’s David. His feelin’ fer Janey +is jest a primrose.’”</p> +<p>David’s eyes were inscrutable, but she continued:</p> +<p>“I knowed she hed allers fancied Joe sence +she was a little tot and he give her them beads. +When Joe’s name was spoke she was allers shy-like. +She wuz never shy-like with you.”</p> +<p>“No,” admitted David wearily, “but I must +go on to the farm now, Miss Rhody. I will +come in again soon.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172' name='page_172'></a>172</span></p> +<p>When he came into the sitting room of the +farmhouse, where he found Joe and Janey, the +rare smile that comes with the sweetness of +renunciation was on his lips. After he had congratulated +them, he asked for Barnabas.</p> +<p>“He just started for the woods,” said Joe. +“I think he is on his way to Uncle Larimy’s.”</p> +<p>David hastened to overtake him, and soon +caught sight of the bent figure walking slowly +over the stubbled field.</p> +<p>“Uncle Barnabas!” he called.</p> +<p>Barnabas turned and waited.</p> +<p>“Did you see Janey and Joe?” he asked, looking +keenly into the shadowed eyes.</p> +<p>“Yes; Aunt M’ri had told me.”</p> +<p>“When?”</p> +<p>“This morning. Joe’s a man after your own +heart, Uncle Barnabas.”</p> +<p>“It’s you I wanted fer her,” said the old man +bluntly. “I never dreamt of its bein’ enybody +else. It’s an orful disapp’intment to me, +Dave. I’d ruther see you her man than to see +you what I told you long ago I meant fer you +to be.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173' name='page_173'></a>173</span></p> +<p>“And I, too, Uncle Barnabas,” said David, +with slow earnestness, “would rather be your +son than to be governor of this state!”</p> +<p>“You did care, then, David,” said the old +man sadly. “It don’t seem to be much of a +surprise to you.”</p> +<p>“Uncle Barnabas, I will tell you something +which I want no one else to know. I came back +last evening and drove out here. I looked in +the window, and saw her as she sat at work. It +came into my heart to go in then and ask her +to marry me, instead of waiting until after +election as I had planned. Then Joe came in +and she––went to him. I returned to Lafferton. +It was daylight before I had it out with +myself.”</p> +<p>“Dave! I thought I knew you better than +any of them. It’s been a purty hard test, but +you won’t let it spile your life?”</p> +<p>“No, I won’t, Uncle Barnabas. I owe it to +you, if not to myself, to go straight ahead as +you have mapped it out for me.”</p> +<p>“Bless you, Dave! You’re the right stuff!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174' name='page_174'></a>174</span></p> +<p class='tp' style='font-style:italic;font-size:1.2em;margin-bottom:1em;margin-top:70px;'>PART THREE</p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.3em;margin-bottom:40px;'>CHAPTER I</p> +<p>In January David took his seat in the House +of Representatives, of which he was the +youngest member. It was not intended by that +august body that he should take any rôle but +the one tacitly conceded to him of making +silver-tongued oratory on the days when the +public would crowd the galleries to hear an all-important +measure, the “Griggs Bill,” discussed. +The committee were to give him the facts and +the general line of argument, and he was to +dress it up in his fantastic way. They were +entirely willing that he should have the applause +from the public as well as the credit of the victory; +all they cared for was the certainty of the +passage of the bill.</p> +<p>David’s cool, lawyer-like mind saw through +all these manipulations and machinations even +if he were only a political tenderfoot. As other +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175' name='page_175'></a>175</span> +minor measures came up he voted for or against +them as his better judgment dictated, but all +his leisure hours were devoted to the investigation +and study of the one big bill which was to +be rushed through at the end of the session. He +pored over the status of the law, found out the +policies and opinions of other states on the subject, +and listened attentively to all arguments, +but he never took part in the discussions and he +was very guarded in giving an expression of +his views, an attitude which pleased the promoters +of the bill until it began to occur to them +that his caution came from penetration into +their designs and, perhaps, from intent to thwart +them.</p> +<p>“He has ketched on,” mournfully stated an +old-timer from the third district. “I’m allers +mistrustful of these young critters. They are +sure to balk on the home stretch.”</p> +<p>“Well, one good thing,” grinned a city member, +“it breaks their record, and they don’t get +another entry.”</p> +<p>David had made a few short speeches on +some of the bills, and those who had read in the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176' name='page_176'></a>176</span> +papers of the wonderful powers of oratory of +the young member from the eleventh flocked +to hear him. They were disappointed. His +speeches were brief, forceful, and logical, but +entirely barren of rhetorical effect. The promoters +of the Griggs Bill began to wonder, but +concluded he was saving all his figures of speech +to sugarcoat their obnoxious measure. It occurred +to them, too, that if by chance he should +oppose them his bare-handed way of dealing +with subterfuges and his clear presentation of +facts would work harm. They counted, however, +on being able to convince him that his future +status in the life political depended upon his +coöperation with them in pushing this bill +through.</p> +<p>Finally he was approached, and then the +bomb was thrown. He quietly and emphatically +told them he should fight the bill, single +handed if necessary. Recriminations, arguments, +threats, and inducements––all were of no +avail.</p> +<p>“Let him hang himself if he wants to,” +growled one of the committee. “He hasn’t +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177' name='page_177'></a>177</span> +influence enough to knock us out. We’ve got +the majority.”</p> +<p>The measure was one that would radically +affect the future interests of the state, and was +being watched and studied by the people, who +had not, as yet, however, realized its significance +or its far-reaching power. The intent of the +promoters of the Griggs Bill was to leave the +people unenlightened until it should have become +a law.</p> +<p>“Dunne won’t do us any harm,” argued the +father of the bill on the eventful day. “He’s +been saving all his skyrockets for this celebration. +He’ll get lots of applause from the +women folks,” looking up at the solidly packed +gallery, “and his speech will be copied in all the +papers, and that’ll be the reward he’s looking +for.”</p> +<p>When David arose to speak against the +Griggs Bill he didn’t look the youngster he had +been pictured. His tall, lithe, compelling figure +was drawn to its full height. His eyes +darkened to intensity with the gravity of the +task before him; the stern lines of his mouth +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178' name='page_178'></a>178</span> +bespoke a master of the situation and compelled +confidence in his knowledge and ability.</p> +<p>The speech delivered in his masterful voice +was not so much in opposition to the bill as it +was an exposure of it. He bared it ruthlessly +and thoroughly, but he didn’t use his youthful +hypnotic periods of persuasive eloquence that +had been wont to sway juries and to creep into +campaign speeches. His wits had been sharpened +in the last few months, and his keen-edged +thrusts, hurled rapier-like, brought a wince to +even the most hardened of veteran members. +It was a complete enlightenment in plain words +to a plain people––a concise and convincing +protest.</p> +<p>When he finished there was a tempest of arguments +from the other side, but there was not +a point he had not foreseen, and as attack only +brought out the iniquities of the measure, they +let the bill come to ballot. The measure was +defeated, and for days the papers were headlined +with David Dunne’s name, and accounts +of how the veterans had been routed by the +“tenderfoot from the eleventh.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179' name='page_179'></a>179</span></p> +<p>After his dip into political excitement legal +duties became a little irksome to David, especially +after the wedding of Joe and Janey had +taken place. In the fall occurred the death of +the United States senator from the western district +of the state. A special session of the legislature +was to be convened for the purpose of +pushing through an important measure, and the +election of a successor to fill the vacancy +would take place at the same time. The usual +“certain rich man,” anxious for a career, aspired, +and, as he was backed by the state machine +as well as by the covert influence of two +or three of the congressmen, his election seemed +assured.</p> +<p>There was an opposing candidate, the choice +of the people, however, who was gathering +strength daily.</p> +<p>“We’ve got to head off this man Dunne +some way,” said the manager of the “certain +rich man.” “He can’t beat us, but with him +out of the way it would be easy sailing, and all +opposition would come over to us on the second +ballot.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180' name='page_180'></a>180</span></p> +<p>“Isn’t there a way to win him over?” asked +a congressman who was present.</p> +<p>The introducer of the memorable measure of +the last session shook his head negatively.</p> +<p>“He can’t be persuaded, threatened, or +bought.”</p> +<p>“Then let’s get him out of the way.”</p> +<p>“Kidnap him?”</p> +<p>“Decoy him gently from your path. The +consul of a little seaport in South America has +resigned, and at a word from me to Senator +Hollis, who would pass it on to the President, +this appointment could be given to your young +bucker, and he’d be out of your way for at +least three years.”</p> +<p>“That would be too good to be true, but he +wouldn’t bite at such bait. His aspirations are +all in a state line. He’s got the usual career +mapped out,––state senator, secretary of state, +governor––possibly President.”</p> +<p>“You can never tell,” replied the congressman +sagaciously. “A presidential appointment, +the alluring word ‘consul,’ a foreign residence, +all sound very enticing and important to a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181' name='page_181'></a>181</span> +young country man. The Dunne type likes to +be the big frog in the puddle. This stripling +you are all so afraid of hasn’t cut all his wisdom +teeth yet. It’s worth a try. I’ll tackle him.”</p> +<p>The morning after this conversation, as +David walked down to the Judge’s office he felt +very lonely––a part of no plan. It was a mood +that made him ripe for the purpose of the congressman +whom he found awaiting him.</p> +<p>“I’ve been wanting to meet you for a long +time, Mr. Dunne,” said the congressman obsequiously, +after the Judge had introduced him. +“We’ve heard a great deal about you down in +Washington since your defeat of the Griggs +Bill, and we are looking for great things from +you. Of course, we have to keep our eye on +what is going on back here.”</p> +<p>The Judge looked his surprise at this speech, +and was still more mystified at receiving a knowing +wink from David.</p> +<p>After some preliminary talk the congressman +finally made known his errand, and tendered David +the offer of a consulship in South America.</p> +<p>At this juncture the Judge was summoned to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182' name='page_182'></a>182</span> +the telephone in another room. When he returned +the congressman had taken his departure.</p> +<p>“Behold,” grinned David, “the future consul +of––I really can’t pronounce it. I am going to +look it up now in your atlas.”</p> +<p>“Where is Gilbert?” asked the Judge.</p> +<p>“Gone to wire Hilliard before I can change +my mind. You see, it’s a scheme to get me out +of the road and I––well I happen to be willing +to get out of the road just now. I am not in a +fighting mood.”</p> +<p>“Consular service,” remarked the Judge oracularly, +“is generally considered a sort of clearing +house for undesirable politicians. The +consuls to those little ports are, as a rule, very +poor.”</p> +<p>“Then a good consul like your junior partner +will loom up among so many poor ones.”</p> +<p>Barnabas was inwardly disturbed by this +move from David, but he philosophically argued +that “the boy was young and ’t wouldn’t +harm him to salt down awhile.”</p> +<p>“Dave,” he counseled in farewell, “I hope +you’ll come to love some good gal. Every man +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183' name='page_183'></a>183</span> +orter hev a hearth of his own. This stretchin’ +yer feet afore other folks’ firesides is unnateral +and lonesome. Thar’s no place so snug and +safe fer a man as his own home, with a good wife +to keep it. But I want you tew make me a +promise, Dave. When I see the time’s ripe fer +pickin’ in politics, will you come back?”</p> +<p>“I will, Uncle Barnabas,” promised David +solemnly.</p> +<p>The heartiest approval came from Joe.</p> +<p>“That’s right, Dave, see all you can of the +world instead of settling down in a pasture lot +at Lafferton.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184' name='page_184'></a>184</span></p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.3em;margin-bottom:40px; margin-top:70px;;'>CHAPTER II</p> +<p>Gilbert, complacent and affable, returned +to Washington accompanied by +David. A month later the newly made consul +sailed from New York for South America. He +landed at a South American seaport that had a +fine harbor snugly guarded by jutting cliffs +skirting the base of a hill barren and severe in +aspect.</p> +<p>As he walked down the narrow, foreign streets +thronged with a strange people, and saw the +structures with their meaningless signs, he began +to feel a wave of homesickness. Then, looking +up, he felt that little inner thrill that comes from +seeing one’s flag in a foreign land.</p> +<p>“And that is why I am here,” he thought, “to +keep that flag flying.”</p> +<p>He resolutely started out on the first day to +keep the flag flying in the manner befitting the +kind of a consul he meant to be. He maintained +a strict watch over the commercial conditions, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185' name='page_185'></a>185</span> +and his reports of consular news were promptly +rendered in concise and instructive form. His +native tact and inherent courtesy won him favor +with the government, his hospitality and kindly +intent conciliated the natives, and he was soon +also accorded social privileges. He began to enjoy +life. His duties were interesting, and his +leisure was devoted to the pursuit of novel +pleasures.</p> +<p>Fletcher Wilder, the son of the president of +an American mining company, was down there +ostensibly to look after his father’s interests, but +in reality to take out pleasure parties in his trim +little yacht, and David soon came to be the most +welcome guest that set foot on its deck.</p> +<p>At the end of a year, when his duties had become +a matter of routine and his life had lost +the charm of novelty, David’s ambitions started +from their slumbers, though not this time in a +political way. Wilder had cruised away, and +the young consul was conscious of a sense of +aloneness. He spent his evenings on his spacious +veranda, from where he could see the moonlight +making a rippling road of silver across the black +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186' name='page_186'></a>186</span> +water. The sensuous beauty of the tropical +nights brought him back to his early Land of +Dreams, and the pastime that he had been forced +to relinquish for action now appealed to him with +overwhelming force and fascination. But the +dreams were a man’s dreams, not the fleeting +fancies of a boy. They continued to possess and +absorb him until one night, when he was looking +above the mountains at one lone star that +shone brighter than the rest, he was moved +for the first time to give material shape and +form to his conceptions. The impulse led to +execution.</p> +<p>“I must get it out of my system,” he explained +half apologetically to himself as he began the +writing of a novel. To this task, as to everything +else he had undertaken, he brought the entire +concentration of his mind and energy, until +the book soon began to seem real to him––more +real than anything he had done. As he was copying +the last page for the last time, Fletcher sailed +into the harbor for a week of farewell before +returning to New York.</p> +<p>“What have you been doing for amusement +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187' name='page_187'></a>187</span> +these last six months, Dunne?” he asked as he +dropped into David’s house.</p> +<p>“You’d never guess,” said David, “what your +absence drove me to. I’ve written a book––a +novel.”</p> +<p>“Let me take it back to the hotel with me +to-night. I haven’t been sleeping well lately, +and it may––”</p> +<p>“If it serves as a soporific,” said David gravely, +as he handed him the bulky package, “my labor +will not have been in vain.”</p> +<p>The next morning Wilder came again into +David’s office.</p> +<p>“I fear you didn’t sleep well, after all,” observed +David, looking at his visitor’s heavy-lidded +eyes.</p> +<p>“No, darn you, Dunne. I took up your manuscript +and I never laid it down until the first +streaks of dawn. Then when I went to bed I +lay awake thinking it all over. Why, Dunne, +it’s the best book I ever read!”</p> +<p>“I wish,” David replied with a whimsical +smile, “that you were a publisher.”</p> +<p>“Speaking of publishers, that’s why I didn’t +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188' name='page_188'></a>188</span> +bring the manuscript back. I sail in a week, and +I want you to let me take it to a publisher I +know in New York. He will give it a prompt +reading.”</p> +<p>“If it wouldn’t bother you too much, I wish +you would. You see, it would take so long for +it to come back here and be sent out again each +time it is rejected.”</p> +<p>“Rejected!” scoffed Wilder. “You wait and +see! Aren’t you going to dedicate it?”</p> +<p>David hesitated, his eyes stealing dreamily out +across the bay to the horizon line.</p> +<p>“I wonder,” he said meditatively, “if the person +to whom it is dedicated––every word of it––wouldn’t +know without the inscription.”</p> +<p>“No,” objected Fletcher, “you should have it +appear out of compliment.”</p> +<p>He smiled as he wrote on a piece of paper: +“To T. L. P.”</p> +<p>“The initials of your sweetheart?” quizzed +Fletcher.</p> +<p>“No; when I was a little chap I used to spin +yarns. These are the initials of one who was my +most absorbed listener.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189' name='page_189'></a>189</span></p> +<p>Wilder raised anchor and sailed back to the +states. At the expiration of two months he +wrote David that his book had been accepted. +In time ten bound copies of his novel, his allotment +from the publishers, brought him a thrill +of indescribable pleasure. The next mail brought +papers with glowing reviews and letters of commendation +and congratulations. Next came a +good-sized check, and the information that his +book was a “best seller.”</p> +<p>The night that this information was received +he went up to the top of the hill that jutted over +the harbor and listened to the song of the waves. +Two years in this land of liquid light––a land of +burning days and silent, sapphired nights, a land +of palms and olives––two years of quiet, dreamy +bliss, an idle and unsubstantial time! How +evanescent it seemed, by the light of the days at +home, when something had always pressed him +to action.</p> +<p>“Two years of drifting,” he thought. “It is +time I, too, raised anchor and sailed home.”</p> +<p>The next mail brought a letter that made his +heart beat faster than it had yet been able to do +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190' name='page_190'></a>190</span> +in this exotic, lazy land. It was a recall from +Barnabas.</p> +<p style='margin-left:1.0em; margin-right:2.0em; '>“<span class='smcap'>Dear Dave</span>:</p> +<p style='margin-left:1.0em; margin-right:2.0em; '>“Nothing but a lazy life in a foreign land would have +drove a man like you to write a book. The Jedge and +M’ri are pleased, but I know you are cut out for something +different. I want you to come home in time to run for legislature +again. There’s goin’ to be something doin’. It +is time for another senator, and who do you suppose is +plugging for it, and opening hogsheads of money? +Wilksley. I want for you to come back and head him +off. If you’ve got one speck of your old spirit, and you +care anything about your state, you’ll do it. I am still +running politics for this county at the old stand. Your +book has started folks to talking about you agen, so come +home while the picking is good. You’ve dreamt long +enough. It is time to get up. Don’t write no more books +till you git too old to work.</p> +<p style='margin-left:1.0em; margin-right:2.0em; text-align:right'><span style='margin-right: 3.125em;'>“Yours if you come,</span><br /> +<span style='margin-right: 1.0em;'>“B. B.”</span><br /></p> +<p>The letter brought to David’s eyes something +that no one in this balmy land had ever seen there. +With the look of a fighter belted for battle he +went to the telegraph office and cabled Barnabas, +“Coming.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191' name='page_191'></a>191</span></p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.3em;margin-bottom:40px; margin-top:70px;;'>CHAPTER III</p> +<p>On his return to Lafferton David was met +at the train by the Judge, M’ri, and +Barnabas.</p> +<p>“Your trunks air goin’ out to the farm, Dave, +ain’t they?” asked Barnabas wistfully.</p> +<p>“Of course,” replied David, with an emphasis +that brought a look of pleasure to the old man.</p> +<p>“Your telegram took a great load offen my +mind,” he said, as they drove out to the farm. +“Miss Rhody told me all along I need hev no +fears fer you, that you weren’t no dawdler.”</p> +<p>“Good for Miss Rhody!” laughed David. +“She shall have her reward. I brought her silk +enough for two dresses at least.”</p> +<p>“David,” said M’ri suddenly at the dinner +table, “do tell me for whose name those initials +in the dedication to your book stand. Is it any +one I know?”</p> +<p>“I hardly know the person myself,” was the +smiling and evasive reply. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192' name='page_192'></a>192</span></p> +<p>“A woman, David?”</p> +<p>“She figured largely in my fairy stories.”</p> +<p>“A nickname he had for Janey,” she thought +with a sigh.</p> +<p>“Uncle Barnabas,” said David the next day, +“before we settle down to things political tell me +if you regret my South American experience.”</p> +<p>“Now that you’re back and gittin’ into harness, +I’ll overlook anything. You’d earnt a +breathing spell, and you look a hull lot older. +Your book’s kep’ your name in the papers, tew, +which helps.”</p> +<p>“I will show you something that proves the +book did more than that,” said David, drawing +his bank book from his pocket and passing it to +the old man, who read it unbelievingly.</p> +<p>“Why, Dave, you’re rich!” he exclaimed.</p> +<p>“No; not rich. I shall always have to work +for my living. So tell me the situation.”</p> +<p>This fully occupied the time it took to drive +to town, for Cold Molasses, successor to Old +Hundred, kept the pace his name indicated. +The day was spent in meeting old friends, and +then David settled down to business with his +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193' name='page_193'></a>193</span> +old-time energy. Once more he was nominated +for the legislature and took up the work of +campaigning for Stephen Hume, opponent to +Wilksley. Hume was an ardent, honest, clean-handed +politician without money, but he had +for manager one Ethan Knowles, a cool-headed, +tireless veteran of campaign battles, with David +acting as assistant and speech maker.</p> +<p>David was elected, went to the capital, and +was honored with the office of speaker by unanimous +vote. He had his plans carefully drawn +for the election of Hume, who came down on +the regular train and established headquarters +at one of the hotels, surrounded by a quiet and +determined body of men.</p> +<p>Wilksley’s supporters, a rollicking lot, had +come by special train and were quartered at a +club, dispensing champagne and greenbacks +promiscuously and freely. There was also +a third candidate, whose backers were non-committal, +giving no intimation as to where their +strength would go in case their candidate did +not come in as a dark horse.</p> +<p>When the night of the senatorial contest came +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194' name='page_194'></a>194</span> +the floor, galleries, and lobby of the House were +crowded. The Judge, M’ri, and Joe were there, +Janey remaining home with her father, who +refused to join the party.</p> +<p>“Thar’ll be bigger doin’s fer me to see Dave +officiate at,” he prophesied.</p> +<p>The quietly humorous young man wielding +the gavel found it difficult to maintain quiet in +the midst of such excitement, but he finally +evolved order from chaos.</p> +<p>Wilksley was the first candidate nominated, +a gentleman from the fourteenth delivering a +bombastic oration in pompous periods, accompanied +by lofty gestures. He was followed by +an understudy, who made an ineffective effort +to support his predecessor.</p> +<p>“A ricochet shot,” commented Joe. “Wait +till Dave hits the bullseye.”</p> +<p>The supporting representatives of the dark +horse made short, forceful speeches. Then followed +a brief intermission, while David called +a substitute <i>pro tem</i> to the speaker’s desk. He +stepped to the platform to make the nominating +speech for Hume, the speech for which every +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195' name='page_195'></a>195</span> +one was waiting. There was a hush of expectancy, +and M’ri felt little shivers of excitement +creeping down her spine as she looked up at +David, dauntless, earnest, and compelling, as he +towered above them all.</p> +<p>In its simplicity, its ring of truth, and its +weight of conviction, his speech was a masterpiece.</p> +<p>“A young Patrick Henry!” murmured the +Judge.</p> +<p>M’ri made no comment, for in that flight of a +second that intervened between David’s speech +and the roar of tumultuous applause, she had +heard a voice, a young, exquisite voice, murmur +with a little indrawn breath, “Oh, David!”</p> +<p>M’ri turned in surprise, and looked into the +confused but smiling face of a lovely young girl, +who said frankly and impulsively: “I don’t know +who Mr. Hume may be, but I do hope he wins.”</p> +<p>M’ri smiled in sympathy, trying to place the +resemblance. Then her gaze wandered to the +man beside the young girl.</p> +<p>“You are Carey Winthrop!” she exclaimed.</p> +<p>The man turned, and leaned forward. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196' name='page_196'></a>196</span></p> +<p>“Mrs. Thorne, this is indeed a pleasure,” he +said, extending his hand.</p> +<p>Joe then swung his chair around into their +vision.</p> +<p>“Oh, Joe!” cried the young girl ecstatically. +“And where is Janey?”</p> +<p>The balloting was in progress, and there was +opportunity for mutual recalling of old times. +Then suddenly the sibilant sounds dropped to +silence as the result was announced. Wilksley +had the most votes, the dark horse the least; +Hume enjoyed a happy medium, with fifteen +more to his count than forecast by the man behind +the button, as Joe designated Knowles.</p> +<p>In the rush of action from the delegates, reporters, +clerks, and messengers, the place resembled +a beehive. Then came another ballot taking. +Hume had gained ten votes from the +Wilksley men and fifteen from the dark horse, +but still lacked the requisite number.</p> +<p>From the little retreat where Hume’s manager +was ensconced, with his hand on the throttle, +David emerged. He looked confident and +determined. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197' name='page_197'></a>197</span></p> +<p>The third ballot resulted in giving Hume the +entire added strength of the dark horse, and +enough votes to elect. A committee was thereupon +appointed to bring the three candidates to +the House. When they entered and were escorted +to the platform they each made a speech, +and then formed a reception line. David +stood apart, talking to one of the members. +He was beginning to feel the reaction from +the long strain he had been under and wished +to slip away from the crowd. Suddenly he +heard some one say:</p> +<p>“Mr. Speaker, may I congratulate you?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198' name='page_198'></a>198</span></p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.3em;margin-bottom:40px; margin-top:70px;;'>CHAPTER IV</p> +<p>He turned quickly, his heart thrilling at the +charm in the voice, low, yet resonant, and +sweet with a lurking suggestion of sadness.</p> +<p>A girl, slender and delicately made, stood before +him, a girl with an exquisite grace and a +nameless charm––the something that lurks in +the fragrance of the violet. Her eyes were not +the quiet, solemn eyes of the little princess of +his fairy tales, but the deep, fathomless eyes of +a maiden.</p> +<p>A reminiscent smile stole over his face.</p> +<p>“The little princess!” he murmured, taking +her hand.</p> +<p>The words brought a flush of color to her fair +face.</p> +<p>“The prince is a politician now,” she replied.</p> +<p>“The prince has to be a politician to fight +for his kingdom. Have you been here all the +evening?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199' name='page_199'></a>199</span></p> +<p>“Yes; father and I sat with your party. But +you were altogether too absorbed to glance our +way.”</p> +<p>“Are you visiting in the city? Will you be +here long?”</p> +<p>“For to-night only. I’ve been West with +father, and we only stopped off to see what a +senatorial fight was like; also, to hear you speak. +To-morrow we return East, and then mother +and I shall go abroad. Father,” calling to Mr. +Winthrop, “I am renewing my acquaintance +with Mr. Dunne.”</p> +<p>“I wish to do the same,” he said, extending +his hand cordially. “I expect to be able to tell +people some day that I used to fish in a country +stream with the governor of this state when +he was a boy.”</p> +<p>After a few moments of general conversation +they all left the statehouse together.</p> +<p>“Carey,” said Mr. Winthrop, “I am going +with the Judge to the club, so I will put you in +David’s hands. I believe you have no afraidments +with him.”</p> +<p>“That has come to be a household phrase with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200' name='page_200'></a>200</span> +us,” she laughed; “but you forget, father, that +Mr. Dunne has official duties.”</p> +<p>“If you only knew,” David assured her +earnestly, “how thankful I am for a release +from them. My task is ended, and I don’t +wish to celebrate in the usual and political +way.”</p> +<p>“There is a big military ball at the hotel,” informed +Joe. “Mrs. Thorne and I thought we +would like to go and look on.”</p> +<p>“A fine idea, Joe. Maybe you would like to +go?” he said to Carey, trying to make his tone +urgent.</p> +<p>She laughed at his dismayed expression.</p> +<p>“No; you may walk to the Bradens’ with me. +We couldn’t get in at the hotels, and father +met Major Braden on the street. He is instructor +or something of the militia of this state, +and has gone to the ball with his wife. They +supposed that this contest would last far into +the night, so they planned to be home before we +were.”</p> +<p>“We will get a carriage as soon as we are out +of the grounds.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201' name='page_201'></a>201</span></p> +<p>“Have you come to carriages?” she asked, +laughingly. “You used to say if you couldn’t +ride horseback, or walk, you would stand +still.”</p> +<p>“And you agreed with me that carriages were +only for the slow, the stupid, and the infirm,” +he recalled. “It’s a glorious night. Would +you rather walk, really?”</p> +<p>“Really.”</p> +<p>At the entrance to the grounds they parted +from the others and went up one of the many +avenues radiating from the square.</p> +<p>The air was full of snowflakes, moving so +softly and so slowly they scarcely seemed to +fall. The electric lights of the city shone +cheerfully through the white mist, and the sound +of distant mirthmakers fell pleasantly on the +ear.</p> +<p>“Snow is the only picture part of winter,” said +Carey. “Do you remember the story of the +Snow Princess?”</p> +<p>“You must have a wonderful memory!” he +exclaimed. “You were only six years old when +I told you that story.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202' name='page_202'></a>202</span></p> +<p>“I have a very vivid memory,” she replied. +“Sometimes it almost frightens me.”</p> +<p>“Do you know,” he said, “that I think people +that have dreams and fancies do look backward +farther than matter-of-fact people, who let +things out of sight go out of mind?”</p> +<p>“You were full of dreams then, but I don’t +believe you are now. Of course, politicians have +no time or inclination for dreams.”</p> +<p>“No; they usually have a dread of dreams. +Would you rather have found me still a +dreamer?” he asked, looking down into her +dark eyes, which drooped beneath the intensity +of his gaze.</p> +<p>Then her delicate face, misty with sweetness, +turned toward him again.</p> +<p>“No; dreams are for children and for old people, +whose memories, like their eyes, are for +things far off. This is your time to do things, +not to dream them. And you have done things. +I heard Major Braden telling father about you +at dinner––your success in law, your getting some +bill killed in the legislature, and your having +been to South America. Father says you have +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203' name='page_203'></a>203</span> +had a wonderful career for a young man. I +used to think when I was a little girl that when +you were a grown-up prince you would kill dragons +and bring home golden fleeces.”</p> +<p>He smiled with a sudden deep throb of pleasure. +Her voice stirred him with a sense of +magic.</p> +<p>“This is the Braden home,” she said, stopping +before a big house that seemed to be all pillars +and porches. “You’ll come in for a little +while, won’t you?”</p> +<p>“I’ll come in, if I may, and help you to recall +some more of Maplewood days.”</p> +<p>A trim little maid opened the door and led +the way into a long library where in the fireplace +a pine backlog, crisscrossed by sturdy forelogs of +birch and maple, awaited the touch of a match. +It was given, and the room was filled with a +flaring light that made the soft lamplight seem +pale and feeble.</p> +<p>“This is a genuine Brumble fire,” he exclaimed, +as they sat down before the ruddy +glow. “It carries me back to farm life.”</p> +<p>“How many phases of life you have seen,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204' name='page_204'></a>204</span> +mused Carey. “Country, college, city, tropical, +and now this political life. Which one have you +really enjoyed the most?”</p> +<p>“My life in the Land of Dreams––that beautiful +Isle of Everywhere,” he replied.</p> +<p>Her eyes grew radiant with understanding.</p> +<p>“You are not so very much changed since your +days of dreaming,” she said, smiling. “To be +sure, you have lost your freckles and you don’t +kick at the ground when you walk, and––”</p> +<p>“And,” he reminded, as she paused.</p> +<p>“You are no longer twice my age.”</p> +<p>“Did Janey tell you?”</p> +<p>“Yes; the last summer I was at Maplewood––the +summer you were graduated. You say +you don’t dream any more, but it wasn’t so very +long ago that you did, else how could you have +written that wonderful book?”</p> +<p>“Then you read it?” he asked eagerly.</p> +<p>“Of course I read it.”</p> +<p>“All of it?”</p> +<p>“Could any one begin it and not finish it? +I’ve read some parts of it many times.”</p> +<p>“Did you,” he asked slowly, holding her eyes +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205' name='page_205'></a>205</span> +in spite of her desire to lower them, “read the +dedication?”</p> +<p>And by their subtle confession he knew that +this was one of the parts she had read “many +times.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” she replied, trying to speak lightly, but +breathing quickly, “and I wondered who T. L. +P. might be.”</p> +<p>“And so you didn’t know,” in slow, disappointed +tones, “that they stood for the name I +gave you when I first met you––the name by +which I always think of you? It was with +your perfect understanding of my old fancies +in mind that I wrote the book. And so I dedicated +it to you, thinking if you read it you would +know even without the inscription. Some one +suggested––”</p> +<p>“It was Fletcher,” she began.</p> +<p>“Oh, you know Wilder?”</p> +<p>“Yes, I’ve known him always. He has told +me of your days in South America together and +how he told you to dedicate it. And he wondered +who T. L. P. might be.”</p> +<p>“And you never guessed?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206' name='page_206'></a>206</span></p> +<p>Her face, bent over the firelight, looked small +and white; her beautiful eyes were fixed and +grave. Then suddenly she lifted them to his with +the artlessness of a child.</p> +<p>“I did know,” she confessed. “At least, I +hoped––I claimed it as my book, anyway, +but I thought your memory of those summers +at the farm might not have been as keen as +mine.”</p> +<p>“It is keen,” he replied. “I have always +thought of you as a little princess who only lived +in my dreams, but, hereafter, you are not only +in my past dreams, but I hope, in my future.”</p> +<p>“When we come back––”</p> +<p>“Will you be gone long?” he asked wistfully. +“Is your father––”</p> +<p>“Father can’t go, but he may join us.”</p> +<p>After a moment’s hesitation she continued, +with a slight blush:</p> +<p>“Fletcher is going with us.”</p> +<p>“Oh,” he said, wondering at his tinge of disappointment.</p> +<p>“Carey,” he said wistfully, as he was leaving, +“don’t you think when a man dedicates a book +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207' name='page_207'></a>207</span> +to a girl, and they both have a joint claim on a +territory known as the Land of Dreams, that +she might call him, as she did when they were +boy and girl, by his first name?”</p> +<p>“Yes, David,” she replied with a light little +laugh.</p> +<p>The music of the soft “a” rang entrancingly +in his ears as he walked back to the hotel. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208' name='page_208'></a>208</span></p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.3em;margin-bottom:40px; margin-top:70px;;'>CHAPTER V</p> +<p>There was but one important measure to +deal with in this session of the legislature, +but David’s penetration into a thorough understanding +of each bill, and the patience and sagacity +he displayed in settling all disputes, won the +approbation of even doubtful and divided factions. +He flashed a new fire of life into the ebbing +enthusiasm of his followers, whom he had led +to victory on the Griggs Bill. At the close of the +session, early in May, he was presented with a +set of embossed resolutions commending his fulfillment +of his duties.</p> +<p>That same night, in his room at the hotel, as +he was packing his belongings, he was waited +upon by a delegation composed alike of horny-handed +tillers of the soil and distinguished statesmen.</p> +<p>“We come, David,” said the spokesman, who +had been chairman of the county convention, +“to say that you are our choice for the next +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209' name='page_209'></a>209</span> +governor of this state, and in saying this we +know we are echoing the sentiment of the Republican +party. In fact, we are looking to you +as the only man who can bring that party to +victory.”</p> +<p>He said many more things, flattering and +echoed by his followers. It made the blood tingle +in David’s veins to know that these men of +plain, honest, country stock, like himself, believed +in him and in his honor. In kaleidoscopic +quickness there passed in review his life,––the +days when he and his mother had struggled with +a wretched poverty that the neighbors had only +half suspected, the first turning point in his life, +when he was taken unto the hearth and home of +strong-hearted people, his years at college, the +plodding days in pursuit of the law, his hotly +waged fight in the legislature, and his short literary +career, and he felt a surging of boyish +pride at the knowledge that he was now approaching +his goal.</p> +<p>The next morning David went to Lafferton in +order to discuss the road to the ruling of the +people. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210' name='page_210'></a>210</span></p> +<p>“Whom would you suggest for manager of +my campaign, Uncle Barnabas?” he asked.</p> +<p>“Knowles came to me and offered his services. +Couldn’t have a slicker man, Dave.”</p> +<p>“None better in the state. I shouldn’t have +ventured to ask him.”</p> +<p>Janey was home for the summer, and on the +first evening of his return she and David sat together +on the porch.</p> +<p>“Oh, Davey,” she said with a little sob, “Jud +has come home again, and they say he isn’t +just wild any more, but thoroughly bad.”</p> +<p>The tears in her eyes and the tremor in her +tone stirred all his old protective instinct for +her.</p> +<p>“Poor Jud! I’ll see if I can’t awaken some +ambition in him for a different life.”</p> +<p>“You’ve been very patient, Davey, but do try +again. Every one is down on him now but +father and you and me. Aunt M’ri has let the +Judge prejudice her; Joe hasn’t a particle of +patience with him, and he can’t understand how +I can have any, but you do, Davey. You understand +everything.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211' name='page_211'></a>211</span></p> +<p>They sat in silence, watching the stars pierce +vividly through the blackness of the sky, and +presently his thoughts strayed from Jud and +from his fair young sister. In fancy he saw the +queenly carriage of an imperious little head, the +mystery lurking in a pair of purple eyes, and +heard the cadence in an exquisite voice.</p> +<p>The next morning he began the fight, and there +was an incessant cannonade from start to finish +against the upstart boy nominee, who proved +to be an adversary of unremitting activity, the +tact and experience of Knowles making a fortified +intrenchment for him. All of David’s +friends rallied strongly to his support. Hume +came from Washington, Joe from the ranch, and +Wilder from the East, his father having a branch +concern in the state.</p> +<p>Through the long, hot summer the warfare +waged, and by mid-autumn it seemed a neck and +neck contest––a contest so susceptible that the +merest breath might turn the tide at any moment. +The week before the election found David +still resolute, grim, and determined. Instead +of being discouraged by adverse attacks he had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212' name='page_212'></a>212</span> +gained new vigor from each downthrow. All +forces rendezvoused at the largest city in the +state for the final engagement.</p> +<p>Three days before election he received a note +in a handwriting that had become familiar to +him during the past year. With a rush of surprise +and pleasure he noted the city postmark. +The note was very brief, merely mentioning the +hotel at which they were stopping and asking +him to call if he could spare a few moments from +his campaign work.</p> +<p>In an incredibly short time after the receipt +of this note he was at the hotel, awaiting an answer +to his card. He was shown to the sitting +room of the suite, and Carey opened the door +to admit him. This was not the little princess +of his dreams, nor the charming young girl who +had talked so ingenuously with him before the +Braden fireside. This was a woman, stately yet +gracious, vigorous yet exquisite.</p> +<p>“I am glad we came home in time to see you +elected,” she said. “It is a great honor, David, +to be the governor of your state.”</p> +<p>There was a shade of deference in her manner +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213' name='page_213'></a>213</span> +to him which he realized was due to the awe with +which she regarded the dignity of his elective office. +This amused while it appealed to him.</p> +<p>“We are on our way to California to spend +the winter,” she replied, in answer to his eager +question, “and father proposed stopping here +until after election.”</p> +<p>“You come in and out of my life like a comet,” +he complained wistfully.</p> +<p>Mrs. Winthrop came in, smiling and charming +as ever. She was very cordial to David, and +interested in his campaign, but it seemed to +him that she was a little too gracious, as if +she wished to impress him with the fact that it +was a concession to meet him on an equal social +footing. For Mrs. Winthrop was inclined to be +of the world, worldly.</p> +<p>“You have arrived at an auspicious time,” he +assured her. “To-night the Democrats will have +the biggest parade ever scheduled for this city. +Joe calls it the round-up.”</p> +<p>“Oh, is Joe here?” asked Carey eagerly.</p> +<p>“Yes; and another friend of yours, Fletcher +Wilder.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214' name='page_214'></a>214</span></p> +<p>“I knew that he was here,” she said, with an +odd little smile.</p> +<p>“We had expected to see him in New York, +and were surprised to learn he was out here,” +said Mrs. Winthrop.</p> +<p>“He came to help me in my campaign,” informed +David.</p> +<p>“Fletcher interested in politics! How +strange!”</p> +<p>“His interest is purely personal. We were +together in South America, you know.”</p> +<p>“I am glad that you have a friend in him,” +said Mrs. Winthrop affably. “The parade will +pass here, and Fletcher is coming up, of course. +Why not come up, too, if you can spare the +time?”</p> +<p>“This is not my night,” laughed David. “It’s +purely and simply a Democratic night. I shall +be pleased to come.”</p> +<p>“Bring Joe, too,” reminded Carey.</p> +<p>When Mr. Winthrop came in David had no +doubt as to the welcome he received from the +head of the family.</p> +<p>“A man’s measure of a man,” thought David, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215' name='page_215'></a>215</span> +“is easily taken, and by natural laws, but oh, for +an understanding of the scales by which women +weigh! And yet it is they who hold the balance.”</p> +<p>“Fletcher and David and Joe are coming to-night +to watch the parade from here,” said +Carey.</p> +<p>“You shall all dine with us,” said Mr. Winthrop.</p> +<p>“Thank you,” replied David, “but––”</p> +<p>“Oh, but you must,” insisted Mrs. Winthrop, +who always warmly seconded any proffer of hospitality +made by her husband. “Fletcher will +dine with us, of course. We can have a little +dinner served here in our rooms. Write a note +to Mr. Forbes, Carey.”</p> +<p>The marked difference in type of her three +guests as they entered the sitting room that night +struck Mrs. Winthrop forcibly. Joe, lean and +brown, with laughing eyes, was the typical frontiersman; +Fletcher, quiet and substantial looking, +with his air of culture and ease and his modulated +voice, was the type of a city man; David––“What +a man he is!” she was forced to admit as +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216' name='page_216'></a>216</span> +he stood, head uplifted in the white glare under +the chandelier, the brilliant light shining upon +his dark hair, and his eyes glowing like stars. His +lithe figure, perfect in poise and balance, of virile +strength that was toil-proof, wore the look of +the outdoor life. His smile banished everything +that was ordinary from his face and transmuted +it into a glowing personality. His eyes, serious +with that insight of the observer who knows +what is going on without and within, were clear +and steady.</p> +<p>The table was laid for six in the sitting room, +the flowers and candles giving it a homelike +look.</p> +<p>As Mrs. Winthrop listened to the conversation +between her husband and David she was forced +to admit that the young candidate for governor +was a man of mark.</p> +<p>“I never knew a man without good birth to +have such perfect breeding,” she thought. “He +really appears as well as Fletcher, and, well, of +course, he has more temperament. If he could +have been born on a different plane,” thinking +of her long line of Virginia ancestors. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217' name='page_217'></a>217</span></p> +<p>She had ceded a great deal to her husband’s +and Carey’s democracy, and reserved many an +unfavorable criticism of their friends and their +friends’ ways with a tactfulness that had blinded +their eyes to her true feelings. Yet David knew +instinctively her standpoint; she partly suspected +that he knew, and the knowledge did not disturb +her; she intuitively gauged his pride, and welcomed +it, for a suitor of the Fletcher Wilder station +of life was more to her liking.</p> +<p>Carey led David away from her father’s political +discourse, and encouraged him to give +reminiscences of old days. Joe told a few inimitable +western stories, and before the cozy little +meal was finished Mrs. Winthrop, though +against her will, was feeling the compelling force +of David’s winning sweetness. The sound of a +distant band hurried them from the table to the +balcony.</p> +<p>“They’ve certainly got a fair showing of floating +banners and transformations,” said Joe.</p> +<p>As the procession came nearer the face of the +hardy ranchman flushed crimson and his eyes +flashed dangerously. He made a quick motion +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218' name='page_218'></a>218</span> +as if to obstruct David’s vision, but the young +candidate had already seen. He stood as if at +bay, his face pale, his eyes riveted on those floating +banners which bore in flaming letters the inscriptions:</p> +<p>“The father of David Dunne died in state +prison!”</p> +<p>“His mother was a washerwoman!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219' name='page_219'></a>219</span></p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.3em;margin-bottom:40px; margin-top:70px;;'>CHAPTER VI</p> +<p>The others were stricken into shocked silence +which they were too stunned for the +moment to break. It was Fletcher who recovered +first, but then Fletcher was the only one +present who did not know that the words had +struck home.</p> +<p>“We mustn’t wait another moment, David,” +he said emphatically, “to get out sweeping denials +and––”</p> +<p>“We can’t,” said David wearily. “It is true.”</p> +<p>“Oh,” responded Fletcher lamely.</p> +<p>There was another silence. Something in +David’s voice and manner had made the silence +still more constrained.</p> +<p>“I’ll go down and smash their banners!” muttered +Joe, who had not dared to look in David’s +direction.</p> +<p>Mr. Winthrop restrained him.</p> +<p>“The matter will take care of itself,” he counseled. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220' name='page_220'></a>220</span></p> +<p>It is mercifully granted that the intensity of +present suffering is not realized. Only in looking +back comes the pang, and the wonder at the +seemingly passive endurance.</p> +<p>Again David’s memory was bridging the past +to unveil that vivid picture of the patient-eyed +woman bending over the tub, and the pity for her +was hurting him more than the cruel banner which +was flaunting the fact before a jeering, applauding +crowd.</p> +<p>Mrs. Winthrop gave him a covert glance. She +had great pride in her lineage, and her well-laid +plans for her daughter’s future did not include +David Dunne in their scope, but she was ever +responsive to distress.</p> +<p>Before the look in his eyes every sensation +save that of sympathy left her, and she went to +him as she would have gone to a child of her own +that had been hurt.</p> +<p>“David,” she said tenderly, laying her hand on +his arm, “any woman in the world might be glad +to take in washing to bring up a boy to be such +a man as you are!”</p> +<p>Deeply moved and surprised, he looked into +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221' name='page_221'></a>221</span> +her brimming eyes and met there the look he had +sometimes seen in the eyes of his mother, of M’ri, +and once in the eyes of Janey. Moved by an +irresistible impulse, he stooped and kissed her.</p> +<p>The situation was relieved of its tenseness.</p> +<p>“I think, Joe,” said David, speaking collectedly, +“we had better go to headquarters. +Knowles will be looking for me.”</p> +<p>“Sure,” assented Joe, eager to get into action.</p> +<p>“Carey,” said David in a low voice, as he was +leaving.</p> +<p>As she turned to him, an impetuous rush of +new life leaped torrent-like in his heart. Her +eyes met his slowly, and for a moment he felt +a pleasure acute with the exquisiteness of pain. +Such sensations are usually transient, and in another +moment he had himself well in hand.</p> +<p>“I want to say good night,” he said quietly, +“and––”</p> +<p>“Will you come here to-morrow at eleven?” +she asked hurriedly. “There is something I want +to say to you.”</p> +<p>“I know that you are sorry for me.”</p> +<p>“That isn’t what I mean to say.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222' name='page_222'></a>222</span></p> +<p>A wistful but imperious message was flashed +to him from her eyes.</p> +<p>“I will come,” he replied gravely.</p> +<p>When he reached headquarters he found +the committee dismayed and distracted. Like +Wilder, they counseled a sweeping denial, but +David was firm.</p> +<p>“It is true,” he reiterated.</p> +<p>“It will cost us the vote of a certain element,” +predicted the chairman, “and we haven’t one to +spare.”</p> +<p>David listened to a series of similar sentiments +until Knowles––a new Knowles––came in. The +usual blank placidity of his face was rippled by +radiant exultation.</p> +<p>“David,” he announced, “before that parade +started to-night I had made out another conservative +estimate, and thought I could pull you +through by a slight majority. Now, it’s different. +While you may lose some votes from the +‘near-silk stocking’ class, yet for every vote so +lost hundreds will rally to you. That all men +are created equal is still a truth held to be +self-evident. The spark of the spirit that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223' name='page_223'></a>223</span> +prompted the Declaration of Independence is +always ready to be fanned to a flame, and the +Democrats have furnished us the fans in their +flying pennants.”</p> +<p>David found no balm in this argument. All +the wounds in his heart were aching, and he could +not bring his thoughts to majorities. He passed +a night of nerve-racking strain. The jeopardy +of election did not concern him. That night at +the dinner party he had realized that he had a +formidable rival in Fletcher, who had a place +firmly fixed in the Winthrop household. Still, +against odds, he had determined to woo and win +Carey.</p> +<p>He had thought to tell her of his father’s +imprisonment under softening influences. To +have it flashed ruthlessly upon her in such a way, +and at such a time, made him shrink from asking +her to link her fate with his, and he decided to +put her resolutely out of his life.</p> +<p>Unwillingly, he went to keep his appointment +with her the next morning. He also dreaded an +encounter with Mrs. Winthrop. He felt that +the reaction from her moment of womanly pity +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224' name='page_224'></a>224</span> +would strand her still farther on the rocks of her +worldliness. He was detained on his way to the +hotel so that it was nearly twelve when he arrived. +It was a relief to find Carey alone. There +was an appealing look in her eyes; but David felt +that he could bear no expression of sympathy, +and he trusted she would obey the subtle message +flashed from his own.</p> +<p>With keen insight she read his unspoken appeal, +but a high courage dwelt in the spirit of +the little Puritan of colonial ancestry, and she +summoned its full strength.</p> +<p>“David,” she asked, “did you think I was ignorant +of your early life until I read those banners +last night?”</p> +<p>“I thought,” he said, flushing and taken by +surprise, “that you might have long ago heard +something, but to have it recalled in so sensational +a way when you were entertaining me at +dinner––”</p> +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_6' id='linki_6'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-234.jpg' alt='' title='' width='370' height='534' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +“<i>It was a relief to find Carey alone</i>”<br /> +</p> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225' name='page_225'></a>225</span></div> +<p>“David, the first day I met you, when I was +six years old, Mrs. Randall told us of your father. +I didn’t know just what a prison was, but I supposed +it something very grand, and it widened +the halo of romance that my childish eyes had +cast about you. The morning after you had nominated +Mr. Hume I saw your aunt at the hotel, +and she told me, for she said some day I might +hear it from strangers and not understand. +When I saw those banners it was not so much +sympathy for you that distressed me; I was thinking +of your mother, and regretting that she could +not be alive to hear you speak, and see what her +bravery had done for you.”</p> +<p>David had to summon all his control and his +recollection of her Virginia ancestors to refrain +from telling her what was in his heart. Mrs. +Winthrop helped him by her entrance at this crucial +point.</p> +<p>“Good morning, David,” she said suavely. +“Carey, Fletcher is waiting for you at the elevator. +Your father stopped him. I told him +you would be out directly.”</p> +<p>“I had an engagement to drive with him,” explained +Carey. “I thought you would come +earlier.”</p> +<p>“I am due at a committee meeting,” he said, in +a courteous but aloof manner. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226' name='page_226'></a>226</span></p> +<p>“We start in the morning, you know,” she +reminded him. “Won’t you dine here with us +to-night?”</p> +<p>“I am sorry,” he refused. “It will be impossible.”</p> +<p>“Arthur is going to a club for luncheon,” said +Mrs. Winthrop, when Carey had gone into the +adjoining room, “and I shall be alone unless you +will take pity on my loneliness. I won’t detain +you a moment after luncheon.”</p> +<p>“Thank you,” he replied abstractedly.</p> +<p>She smiled at the reluctance in his eyes.</p> +<p>“David is going to stay to luncheon with me,” +she announced to Carey as she came into the sitting +room.</p> +<p>David winced at the huge bunch of violets +fastened to her muff. He remembered with a +pang that Fletcher had left him that morning +to go to a florist’s. After she had gone Mrs. +Winthrop turned suddenly toward him, as he +was gazing wistfully at the closed door.</p> +<p>“David,” she asked directly, “why did you refuse +our invitation to dine to-night?”</p> +<p>“Why––you see––Mrs. Winthrop––with so +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227' name='page_227'></a>227</span> +many engagements––there is a factory meeting +at five––”</p> +<p>“David, you are floundering! That is not like +the frankly spoken boy we used to know at Maplewood. +I kept you to luncheon to tell you +some news that even Carey doesn’t know yet. +Mrs. Randall has written insisting that we spend +a week at Maplewood before we go West. As +we are in no special haste, I shall accept her hospitality.”</p> +<p>David made no reply, and she continued:</p> +<p>“You are going home the day before election?”</p> +<p>“Yes, Mrs. Winthrop,” he replied.</p> +<p>“We will go down with you, and I hope you +will be neighborly while we are in the country.”</p> +<p>The bewildered look in his eyes deepened, and +then a heartrending solution of her graciousness +came to him. Fletcher and Carey were doubtless +engaged, and this fact made Mrs. Winthrop +feel secure in extending hospitality to him.</p> +<p>“Thank you, Mrs. Winthrop,” he said, a little +bitterly. “You are very kind.”</p> +<p>“David,” she asked, giving him a searching +look. “What is the matter? I thought you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228' name='page_228'></a>228</span> +would be pleased at the thought of our spending +a week among you all.”</p> +<p>He made a quick, desperate decision.</p> +<p>“Mrs. Winthrop,” he asked earnestly, “may I +speak to you quite openly and honestly?”</p> +<p>“David Dunne, you couldn’t speak any other +way,” she asserted, with a gay little laugh.</p> +<p>“I love Carey!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229' name='page_229'></a>229</span></p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.3em;margin-bottom:40px; margin-top:70px;;'>CHAPTER VII</p> +<p>This information seemingly conveyed no +startling intelligence.</p> +<p>“Well,” replied Mrs. Winthrop, evidently +awaiting a further statement.</p> +<p>“I haven’t tried to win her love, nor have I +told her that I love her, because I knew that in +your plans for her future you had never included +me. I know what you think about family, and I +don’t want to make ill return for the courtesy +and kindness you and Mr. Winthrop have always +shown me.”</p> +<p>“David, you have one rare trait––gratitude. I +did have plans for Carey––plans built on the basis +of ‘family’; but I have learned from you that +there are other things, like the trait I mentioned, +for instance, that count more than lineage. Before +we went abroad I knew Carey was interested +in you, with the first flutter of a young girl’s +fancy, and I was secretly antagonistic to that +feeling. But last night, David, I came to feel +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230' name='page_230'></a>230</span> +differently. I envied your mother when I read +those banners. If I had a son like you, I’d feel +honored to take in washing or anything else for +him.”</p> +<p>At the look of ineffable sadness in his eyes her +tears came.</p> +<p>“David,” she said gently, after a pause, “if +you can win Carey’s love, I shall gladly give my +consent.”</p> +<p>He thanked her incoherently, and was seized +with an uncontrollable longing to get away––to +be alone with this great, unbelievable happiness. +In realization of his mood, she left him under +pretext of ordering the luncheon. On her +return she found him exuberant, in a flow of +spirits and pleasantry.</p> +<p>“Mrs. Winthrop,” he said earnestly, as he was +taking his departure, “I am not going to tell +Carey just yet that I love her.”</p> +<p>“As you wish, David. I shall not mention our +conversation.”</p> +<p>She smiled as the door closed upon him.</p> +<p>“Tell her! I wonder if he doesn’t know that +every time he looks at her, or speaks her name, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231' name='page_231'></a>231</span> +he tells her. But I suppose he has some foolish +mannish pride about waiting until he is +governor.”</p> +<p>When David, in a voice vibrant with new-found +gladness, finished an eloquent address to +a United Band of Workmen, he found Mr. Winthrop +waiting for him.</p> +<p>“I was sent to bring you to the hotel to dine +with us, David. My wife told me of your conversation.”</p> +<p>Noting the look of apprehension in David’s +eyes, he continued:</p> +<p>“Every time a suitor for Carey has crossed our +threshold I’ve turned cold at the thought of relinquishing +my guardianship. With you it is different; +I can only quote Carey’s childish remark––‘with +David I would have no afraidments.’”</p> +<p>A touch upon his shoulder prevented David’s +reply. He turned to find Joe and Fletcher.</p> +<p>“Knowles has been looking for you everywhere. +He wants you to come to headquarters +at once.”</p> +<p>“Is it important?” asked David hesitatingly.</p> +<p>“Important! Knowles! Say, David, have you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232' name='page_232'></a>232</span> +forgotten that you are running for governor?”</p> +<p>Winthrop laughed appreciatively.</p> +<p>“Go back to Knowles, David, and come to us +when you can. We have no iron-clad rules as to +hours. Go with him, Joe, to be sure he doesn’t +forget where he is going. Come with me, +Fletcher.”</p> +<p>“It’s too late to call now,” remonstrated Joe, +when David had finally made his escape from +headquarters.</p> +<p>David muttered that time was made for slaves, +and increased his pace. When they reached the +hotel Joe refused to go to the Winthrop’s apartment.</p> +<p>David found Carey alone in the sitting room.</p> +<p>“David,” she asked, after one glance into his +eyes, “what has changed you? Good news from +Mr. Knowles?”</p> +<p>“No, Carey,” he replied, his eyes growing luminous. +“It was something your mother said to +me this morning.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I am glad. What was it she said?”</p> +<p>“She told me,” he evaded, “that you were going +to visit the Randalls.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233' name='page_233'></a>233</span></p> +<p>“And that is what makes you look so––cheered?” +she persisted.</p> +<p>“No, Carey. May I tell you at two o’clock in +the afternoon, the day after election?”</p> +<p>She laughed delightedly.</p> +<p>“That sounds like our childhood days. You +used to put notes in the old apple tree––do you +remember?––asking Janey and me to meet you +two hours before sundown at the end of the picket +fence.”</p> +<p>Further confidential conversation was prevented +by the entrance of the others. Joe had +been captured, and Mrs. Winthrop had ordered +a supper served in the rooms.</p> +<p>“Carey,” asked her mother softly, when they +were alone that night, “did David tell you what +a cozy little luncheon we had?”</p> +<p>“He told me, mother, that you said something +to him that made him very happy, but he would +not tell me what it was.”</p> +<p>Something in her mother’s gaze made Carey +lift her violets as a shield to her face.</p> +<p>“She knows!” thought Mrs. Winthrop. “But +does she care?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234' name='page_234'></a>234</span></p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.3em;margin-bottom:40px; margin-top:70px;;'>CHAPTER VIII</p> +<p>At two o’clock on the day after David Dunne +had been elected governor by an overwhelming +majority, he reined up at the open gate at the +end of the maple drive. His heart beat faster at +the sight of the regal little figure awaiting him. +Her coat, furs, and hat were all of white.</p> +<p>He helped her into the carriage and seated himself +beside her.</p> +<p>“Have you been waiting long, and are you +dressed quite warmly?” he asked anxiously.</p> +<p>“Yes, indeed; I thought you might keep me +waiting at the gate, so I put on my furs.”</p> +<p>The drive went on through the grounds to a +sloping pasture, where it became a rough roadway. +The day was perfect. The sharp edges +of November were tempered by a bright sun, and +the crisp air was possessed of a profound quiet. +When the pastoral stretches ended in the woods, +David stopped suddenly.</p> +<p>“It must have been just about here,” he said, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235' name='page_235'></a>235</span> +reminiscently, as he hitched the horse to a tree +and held out his hand to Carey. They walked on +into the depths of the woods until they came to +a fallen tree.</p> +<p>“Let us sit here,” he suggested.</p> +<p>She obeyed in silence.</p> +<p>An early frost had snatched the glory from +the trees, whose few brown and sere leaves hung +disconsolately on the branches. High above them +was an occasional skirmishing line of wild +ducks. The deep stillness was broken only by +the scattering of nuts the scurrying squirrels +were harvesting, by the cry of startled wood +birds, or by the wistful note of a solitary, distant +quail.</p> +<p>“Do you remember that other––that first day +we came here?” he asked.</p> +<p>She glanced up at him quickly.</p> +<p>“Is this really the place where we came and +you told me stories?”</p> +<p>“You were only six years old,” he reminded +her. “It doesn’t seem possible that you should +remember.”</p> +<p>“It was the first time I had ever been in any +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236' name='page_236'></a>236</span> +kind of woods,” she explained, “and it was the +first time I had ever played with a grown-up boy. +For a long time afterward, when I teased mother +for a story, she would tell me of ‘The Day Carey +Met David.’”</p> +<p>“And do you remember nothing more about +that day?”</p> +<p>“Oh, yes; you made us some little chairs out +of red sticks, and you drew me here in a cart.”</p> +<p>“Can’t you remember when you first laid eyes +on me?”</p> +<p>“No––yes, I remember. You drove a funny +old horse, and I saw you coming when I was waiting +at the gate.”</p> +<p>“Yes, you were at the gate,” he echoed, with +a caressing note in his voice. “You were dressed +in white, as you are to-day, and that was my first +glimpse of the little princess. And because she +was the only one I had ever known, I thought of +her for years as a princess of my imagination +who had no real existence.”</p> +<p>“But afterwards,” she asked wistfully, “you +didn’t think of me as an imaginary person, did +you?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237' name='page_237'></a>237</span></p> +<p>“Yes; you were hardly a reality until––”</p> +<p>“Until the convention?” she asked disappointedly.</p> +<p>“No; before that. It was in South America, +when I began to write my book, that you came +to life and being in my thoughts. The tropical +land, the brilliant sunshine, the purple nights, the +white stars, the orchids, the balconies looking +down upon fountained courts, all invoked you. +You answered, and crept into my book, and while +we––you and I––were writing it, it came to me +suddenly and overwhelmingly that the little princess +was a living, breathing person, a woman who +mayhap would read my book some day and feel +that it belonged to her. It was so truly hers that +I did not think it necessary to write the dedication +page. And she did read the book and she +did know––didn’t she?”</p> +<p>He looked down into her face, which had grown +paler but infinitely more lovely.</p> +<p>“David, I didn’t dare know. I wanted to +think it was so.”</p> +<p>“Carey,” his voice came deep and strong, his +eyes beseeching, “we were prince and princess in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238' name='page_238'></a>238</span> +that enchanted land of childish dreams. Will +you make the dream a reality?”</p> +<hr class='tb' /> +<p>“When, David,” she asked him, “did you know +that you loved, not the little princess, but me, +Carey?”</p> +<p>“You make the right distinction in asking me +when I <i>knew</i> I loved you. I loved you always, +but I didn’t know that I loved you, or how much +I loved you, until that night we sat before the fire +at the Bradens’.”</p> +<p>“And, David, tell me what mother said that day +after the parade?”</p> +<p>“She told me I had her consent to ask you––this!”</p> +<p>“And why, David, did you wait until to-day?”</p> +<p>“The knowledge that you were coming back +here to Maplewood brought the wish to make a +reality of another dream––to meet you at the +place where I first saw you––to bring you here, +where you clung to me for the protection that is +henceforth always yours. And now, Carey, it is +my turn to ask you a question. When did you +first love me?”</p> +<div class='figtag'> +<a name='linki_7' id='linki_7'></a> +</div> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-238.jpg' alt='' title='' width='371' height='535' /><br /> +<p class='caption'> +“<i>‘Carey, will you make the dream a reality?’</i>”<br /> +</p> +</div> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239' name='page_239'></a>239</span></div> +<p>“That first day I met you––here in the woods. +My dream and my prince were always realities +to me.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240' name='page_240'></a>240</span></p> +<p class='tp' style='font-size:1.3em;margin-bottom:40px; margin-top:70px;;'>CHAPTER IX</p> +<p>The governor was indulging in the unwonted +luxury of solitude in his private +sanctum of the executive offices. The long line +of politicians, office seekers, committees, and reporters +had passed, and he was supposed to have +departed also, but after his exit he had made a +detour and returned to his private office.</p> +<p>Then he sat down to face the knottiest problem +that had as yet confronted him in connection +with his official duties. An important act of the +legislature awaited his signature or veto. Various +pressing matters called for immediate action, +but they were mere trifles compared to +the issue pending upon an article he had read in +a bi-weekly paper from one of the country districts. +The article stated that a petition was +being circulated to present to the governor, +praying the pardon and release of Jud Brumble. +Then had begun the great conflict in the +mind of David Dunne, the “governor who could +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241' name='page_241'></a>241</span> +do no wrong.” It was not a conflict between +right and wrong that was being waged, for Jud +had been one to the prison born.</p> +<p>David reviewed the series of offenses Jud had +perpetrated, punishment for which had ever +been evaded or shifted to accomplices. He recalled +the solemn promise the offender had +made him long ago when, through David’s efforts, +he had been acquitted––a promise swiftly +broken and followed by more daring transgressions, +which had culminated in one enormous +crime. He had been given the full penalty––fifteen +years––a sentence in which a long-suffering +community had rejoiced.</p> +<p>Jud had made himself useful at times to a +certain gang of ward heelers and petty politicians, +who were the instigators of this petition, +which they knew better than to present themselves. +Had they done so, David’s course would +have been plain and easy; but the petition was +to be conveyed directly and personally to the +governor, so the article read, by the prisoner’s +father, Barnabas Brumble.</p> +<p>By this method of procedure the petitioners +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242' name='page_242'></a>242</span> +showed their cunning as well as their knowledge +of David Dunne. They knew that his sense of +gratitude was as strong as his sense of accurate +justice, and that to Barnabas he attributed his +first start in life; that he had, in fact, literally +blazed the political trail that had led him from +a country lawyer to the governorship of his +state.</p> +<p>There were other ties, other reasons, of which +these signers knew not, that moved David to +heed a petition for release should it be presented.</p> +<p>Again he seemed to see his mother’s imploring +eyes and to hear her impressive voice. Again +he felt around his neck the comforting, chubby +arms of the criminal’s little sister. Her youthful +guilelessness and her inherent goodness had +never recognized evil in her wayward brother, +and she would look confidently to “Davey” for +service, as she had done in the old days of country +schools and meadow lanes.</p> +<p>On the other hand, he, David Dunne, had +taken a solemn oath to do his duty, and his duty +to the people, in the name of justice, was clear. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243' name='page_243'></a>243</span> +He owed it to them to show no leniency to Jud +Brumble.</p> +<p>So he hovered between base ingratitude to +the man who had made him, and who had never +before asked a favor, and non-fulfillment of +duty to his people. It was a wage of head and +heart. There had never been moral compromises +in his code. There had ever been a right +and a wrong––plain roads, with no middle course +or diverging paths, but now in his extremity he +sought some means of evading the direct issue. +He looked for the convenient loophole of technicality––an +irregularity in the trial––but his +legal knowledge forbade this consideration +after again going over the testimony and evidence +of the trial. The attorney for the defense +had been compelled to admit that his client had +had a square deal. If only the petition might be +brought in the usual way, and presented to the +pardon board, it would not be allowed to reach +the governor, as there was nothing in the case +to warrant consideration, but that was evidently +not to be the procedure. Barnabas would come +to him and ask for Jud’s release, assuming +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244' name='page_244'></a>244</span> +naturally that his request would be willingly +granted.</p> +<p>If he pardoned Jud, all the popularity of the +young governor would not screen him from the +public censure. One common sentiment of outrage +had been awakened by the crime, and the +criminal had been universally repudiated, but it +was not from public censure or public criticism +that this young man with the strong under jaw +shrank, but from the knowledge that he would be +betraying a trust. Gratitude and duty pointed +in different directions this time.</p> +<p>With throbbing brain and racked nerves he +made his evening call upon Carey, who had come +to be a clearing house for his troubles and who +was visiting the Bradens. She looked at him to-night +with her eyes full of the adoration a young +girl gives to a man who has forged his way to +fame.</p> +<p>He responded to her greeting abstractedly, +and then said abruptly:</p> +<p>“Carey, I am troubled to-night!”</p> +<p>“I knew it before you came, David. I read +the evening papers.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245' name='page_245'></a>245</span></p> +<p>“What!” he exclaimed in despair. “It’s true, +then! I have not seen the papers to-night.”</p> +<p>She brought him the two evening papers of +opposite politics. In glowing headlines the +Democratic paper told in exaggerated form the +story of his early life, his humble home, his days +of struggle, his start in politics, and his success, +due to the father of the hardened criminal. +Would the governor do his duty and see that +law and order were maintained, or would he +sacrifice the people to his personal obligations? +David smiled grimly as he reflected that either +course would be equally censured by this same +paper.</p> +<p>He took up the other journal, the organ of +his party, which stated the facts very much as +the other paper had done, and added that Barnabas +Brumble was en route to the capital city +for the purpose of asking a pardon for his son. +The editor, in another column, briefly and firmly +expressed his faith in the belief that David +Dunne would be stanch in his views of what +was right and for the public welfare.</p> +<p>There was one consolation; neither paper had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246' name='page_246'></a>246</span> +profaned by public mention the love of his boyhood +days.</p> +<p>“What shall I do! What should I do!” he +asked himself in desperation.</p> +<p>“I know what you will do,” said Carey, +quickly reading the unspoken words.</p> +<p>“What?”</p> +<p>“You will do, as you always do––what you +believe to be right. David, tell me the story of +those days.”</p> +<p>So from the background of his recollections +he brought forward vividly a picture of his early +life, a story she had heard only from others. He +told her, too, of his boyish fancy for Janey.</p> +<p>There was silence when he had finished. Carey +looked into the flickering light of the open fire +with steady, musing eyes. It did not hurt her +in the least that he had had a love of long ago. +It made him but the more interesting, and appealed +to her as a pretty and fitting romance in +his life.</p> +<p>“It seems so hard, either way, David,” she +said looking up at him in a sympathetic way. +“To follow the dictates of duty is so cold and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247' name='page_247'></a>247</span> +cruel a way, yet if you follow the dictates of +your heart your conscience will accuse you. But +you will, when you have to act, David, do what +you believe to be right, and abide by the consequences. +Either way, dear, is going to bring +you unhappiness.”</p> +<p>“Which do you believe the right way, Carey?” +he asked, looking searchingly into her mystic +eyes.</p> +<p>“David,” she replied helplessly, “I don’t +know! The more I think about it, the more complicated +the decision seems.”</p> +<p>They discussed the matter at length, and he +went home comforted by the thought that there +was one who understood him, and who would +abide in faith by whatever decision he made.</p> +<p>The next day, at the breakfast table, on the +street, in his office, in the curious, questioning +faces of all he encountered, he read the inquiry +he was constantly asking himself and to which +he had no answer ready. When he finally +reached his office he summoned his private +secretary.</p> +<p>“Major, don’t let in any more people than is +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248' name='page_248'></a>248</span> +absolutely necessary to-day. I will see no reporters. +You can tell them that no petition or +request for the pardon of Jud Bramble has been +received, if they ask, and oh, Major!”</p> +<p>The secretary turned expectantly.</p> +<p>“If Barnabas Brumble comes, of course he is +to be admitted at once.”</p> +<p>Later in the morning the messenger to the +governor stood at the window of the business +office, idly looking out.</p> +<p>“Dollars to doughnuts,” he exclaimed suddenly +and confidently, “that this is Barnabas +Brumble coming up the front walk!”</p> +<p>The secretary hastened to the window. A +grizzled old man in butternut-colored, tightly +buttoned overcoat, and carrying a telescope bag, +was ascending the steps.</p> +<p>“I don’t know why you think so,” said the +secretary resentfully to the boy. “Barnabas +Brumble isn’t the only farmer in the world. +Sometimes,” he added, pursuing a train of +thought beyond the boy’s knowledge, “it seems +as if no one but farmers came into this capitol +nowadays.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249' name='page_249'></a>249</span></p> +<p>A few moments later one of the guards ushered +into the executive office the old man carrying +the telescope. The secretary caught the infection +of the boy’s belief.</p> +<p>“What can I do for you?” he asked courteously.</p> +<p>“I want to see the guvner,” replied the old +man in a curt tone.</p> +<p>“Your name?” asked the secretary.</p> +<p>“Barnabas Brumble,” was the terse response.</p> +<p>He had not read the newspapers for a week +past, and so he could hardly know the importance +attached to his name in the ears of those +assembled. The click of the typewriters ceased, +the executive clerk looked quickly up from his +papers, the messenger assumed a triumphant +pose, and the janitor peered curiously in from +an outer room.</p> +<p>“Come this way, Mr. Brumble,” said the secretary +deferentially, as he passed to the end of +the room and knocked at a closed door.</p> +<p>David Dunne knew, when he heard the knock, +to whom he would open the door, and he was +glad the strain of suspense was ended. But +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250' name='page_250'></a>250</span> +when he looked into the familiar face a host of +old memories crowded in upon his recollection, +and obliterated the significance of the call.</p> +<p>“Uncle Barnabas!” he said, extending a cordial +hand to the visitor, while his stern, strong +face softened under his slow, sweet smile. Then +he turned to his secretary.</p> +<p>“Admit no one else, Major.”</p> +<p>David took the telescope from his guest and +set it on the table, wondering if it contained the +“documents in evidence.”</p> +<p>“Take off your coat, Uncle Barnabas. They +keep it pretty warm in here!”</p> +<p>“I callate they do––in more ways than one,” +chuckled Barnabas, removing his coat. “I hed +to start purty early this mornin’, when it was +cool-like. Wal, Dave, times has changed! To +think of little Dave Dunne bein’ guvner! I +never seemed to take it in till I come up them +front steps.”</p> +<p>The governor laughed.</p> +<p>“Sometimes I don’t seem to take it in myself, +but <i>you</i> ought to, Uncle Barnabas. You +put me here!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251' name='page_251'></a>251</span></p> +<p>As he spoke he unlocked a little cabinet and +produced a bottle and a couple of glasses.</p> +<p>“Wal, I do declar, ef you don’t hev things as +handy as a pocket in a shirt! Good stuff, Dave! +More warmin’ than my old coat, I reckon, but +say, Dave, what do you s’pose I hev got in that +air telescope?”</p> +<p>David winced. In olden times the old man +ever came straight to the point, as he was doing +now.</p> +<p>“Why, what is it, Uncle Barnabas?”</p> +<p>“Open it!” directed the old man laconically.</p> +<p>With the feeling that he was opening his coffin, +David unstrapped the telescope and lifted +the cover. A little exclamation of pleasure +escaped him. The telescope held big red apples, +and it held nothing more. David quickly +bit into one.</p> +<p>“I know from just which particular tree these +come,” he said, “from that humped, old one in +the corner of the orchard nearest the house.”</p> +<p>“Yes,” allowed Barnabas, “that’s jest the one––the +one under which you and her allers set and +purtended you were studyin’ your lessons.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252' name='page_252'></a>252</span></p> +<p>David’s eyes grew luminous in reminiscence.</p> +<p>“I haven’t forgotten the tree––or her––or the +old days, Uncle Barnabas.”</p> +<p>“I knowed you hadn’t, Dave!”</p> +<p>Again David’s heart sank at the confidence in +the tone which betokened the faith reposed, but +he would give the old man a good time anyway +before he took his destiny by the throat.</p> +<p>“Wouldn’t you like to go through the capitol?” +he asked.</p> +<p>“I be goin’. The feller that brung me up here +sed he’d show me through.”</p> +<p>“I’ll show you through,” said David decisively, +and together they went through the places +of interest in the building, the governor as proud +as a newly domiciled man showing off his possessions. +At last they came to the room where +in glass cases reposed the old, unfurled battle +flags. The old man stopped before one case +and looked long and reverently within.</p> +<p>“Which was your regiment, Uncle Barnabas?”</p> +<p>“Forty-seventh Infantry. I kerried that air +flag at the Battle of the Wilderness.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253' name='page_253'></a>253</span></p> +<p>David called to a guard and obtained a key +to the case. Opening it, he bade the old man +take out the flag.</p> +<p>With trembling hands Barnabas took out the +flag he had followed when his country went to +war. He gazed at it in silence, and then restored +it carefully to its place. As they walked away, +he brushed his coat sleeve hastily across his +dimmed eyes.</p> +<p>David consulted his watch.</p> +<p>“It’s luncheon time, Uncle Barnabas. We’ll +go over to my hotel. The executive mansion is +undergoing repairs.”</p> +<p>“I want more’n a lunch, Dave! I ain’t et +nuthin’ sence four o’clock this mornin’.”</p> +<p>“I’ll see that you get enough to eat,” laughed +David.</p> +<p>In the lobby of the hotel a reporter came +quickly up to them.</p> +<p>“How are you, governor?” he asked, with his +eyes fastened falcon-like on Barnabas.</p> +<p>David returned the salutation and presented +his companion.</p> +<p>“Mr. Brumble from Lafferton?” asked the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254' name='page_254'></a>254</span> +reporter, with an insinuating emphasis on the +name of the town.</p> +<p>“Yes,” replied the old man in surprise. “I +don’t seem to reckleck seein’ you before.”</p> +<p>“I never met you, but I have heard of you. +May I ask what your business in the city is, Mr. +Brumble?”</p> +<p>The old man gave him a keen glance from beneath +his shaggy brows.</p> +<p>“Wal, I don’t know as thar’s any law agin +your askin’! I came to see the guvner.”</p> +<p>David, with a laugh of pure delight at the +discomfiture of the reporter, led the way to the +dining room.</p> +<p>“You’re as foxy as ever, Uncle Barnabas. +You routed that newspaper man in good +shape.”</p> +<p>“So that’s what he was! I didn’t know but +he was one of them three-card-monty sharks. +Wal, I s’pose it’s his trade to ask questions.”</p> +<p>Barnabas’ loquacity always ceased entirely at +meal times, so his silence throughout the luncheon +was not surprising to David.</p> +<p>“Wal, Dave,” he said as he finished, “ef this +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255' name='page_255'></a>255</span> +is your lunch I’d hate to hev to eat what you’d +call dinner. I never et so much before at one +settin’!”</p> +<p>“We’ll go over to the club now and have a +smoke,” suggested David. “Then you can go +back to my office with me and see what I have to +undergo every afternoon.”</p> +<p>At the club they met several of David’s friends––not +politicians––who met Barnabas with courtesy +and composure. When they returned to +David’s private office Barnabas was ensconced +comfortably in an armchair while David listened +with patience to the long line of importuners, +each receiving due consideration. The last interview +was not especially interesting and Barnabas’ +attention was diverted. His eyes fell on +a newspaper, which he picked up carelessly. It +was the issue of the night before, and his own +name was conspicuous in big type. He read +the article through and returned the paper to its +place without being observed by David, whose +back was turned to him.</p> +<p>“Wal, Dave,” he said, when the last of the +line had left the room, “I used ter think I’d +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256' name='page_256'></a>256</span> +ruther do enything than be a skule teacher, but +I swan ef you don’t hev it wuss yet!”</p> +<p>David made no response. The excitement of +his boyish pleasure in showing Uncle Barnabas +about had died away as he listened to the troubles +and demands of his callers, and now the recollection +of the old man’s errand confronted him +in full force.</p> +<p>Barnabas looked at him keenly.</p> +<p>“Dave,” he said slowly, “’t ain’t no snap you +hev got! I never knowed till to-day jest what it +meant to you. I’m proud of you, Dave! I +wish––I wish you hed been my son!”</p> +<p>The governor arose impetuously and crossed +the room.</p> +<p>“I would have been, Uncle Barnabas, if she +had not cared for Joe!”</p> +<p>“I know it, Dave, but you hev a sweet little +gal who will make you happy.”</p> +<p>The governor’s face lighted in a look of exquisite +happiness.</p> +<p>“I have, Uncle Barnabas. We will go to see +her this evening.”</p> +<p>“I’d like to see her, sartain. Hain’t seen her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_257' name='page_257'></a>257</span> +sence the night you was elected. And, Dave,” +with a sheepish grin, “I’m a-goin’ to git spliced +myself.”</p> +<p>“What? No! May I guess, Uncle Barnabas––Miss +Rhody?”</p> +<p>“Dave, you air a knowin’ one. Yes, it’s her! +Whenever we set down to our full table I got to +thinkin’ of that poor little woman a-settin’ down +alone, and I’ve never yet knowed a woman livin’ +alone to feed right. They allers eat bean soup +or prunes, and call it a meal.”</p> +<p>“I am more glad than I can tell you, Uncle +Barnabas, and I shall insist on giving the bride +away. But what will Penny think about some +one stepping in?”</p> +<p>“Wal, Dave, I’ll allow I wuz skeered to tell +Penny, and it tuk a hull lot of bracin’ to do it, +and what do you suppose she sed? She sez, ‘I’ve +bin wantin’ tew quit these six years, and now, +thank the Lord, I’ve got the chance.’”</p> +<p>“Why, what in the world did she want to +leave for?”</p> +<p>“I guess you’ll be surprised when I tell you. +To marry Larimy Sasser!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_258' name='page_258'></a>258</span></p> +<p>“Uncle Larimy! She’ll scour him out of +house and home,” laughed David.</p> +<p>“We’ll hev both weddin’s to the same time. +Joe and Janey are a-comin’, and we’ll hev a +grand time. I hain’t much on the write, Dave, +and I’ve allers meant to see you here in this +great place. Some of the boys sez to me: ‘Mebby +Dave’s got stuck on himself and his job by this +time, and you’ll hev to send in yer keerd by a +nigger fust afore you kin see him,’ but I sez, +‘No! Not David Dunne! He ain’t that kind +and never will be.’ So when I go back I kin tell +them how you showed me all over the place, and +tuk me to eat at a hotel and to that air stylish +place where I wuz treated like a king by yer +friends. I’ve never found you wantin’, Dave, +and I never expect to!”</p> +<p>“Uncle Barnabas,” began David, “I––”</p> +<p>His voice suddenly failed him.</p> +<p>“See here, Dave! I didn’t know nuthin’ +about that,” pointing to the newspaper, “until +a few minutes ago. I sed tew hum that I wuz +a-comin’ to see how Dave run things, and ef +them disreptible associates of Jud’s air a-gittin’ +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_259' name='page_259'></a>259</span> +up some fool paper, I don’t know it! Ef they +do send it in, don’t you dare sign it! Why, I +wouldn’t hev that boy outen prison fer nuthin’. +He’s different from what he used to be, Dave. +He got so low he would hev to reach up ter touch +bottom. He’s ez low ez they git, and he’s dangerous. +I didn’t know an easy minute fer the +last two years afore he wuz sent up, so keep him +behind them bars fer fear he’ll dew somethin’ +wuss when he gits out. Don’t you dare sign no +petition, Dave!”</p> +<p>Tears of relief sprang into the strong eyes of +the governor.</p> +<p>“Why, Dave,” said the old man in shocked +tones, “you didn’t go fer to think fer a minute +I’d ask you to let him out cause he wuz my son? +Even ef I hed a wanted him out, and Lord knows +I don’t, I’d not ask you to do somethin’ wrong, +no more’n I’d bring dishoner to that old flag +I held this mornin’!”</p> +<p>David grasped his hand.</p> +<p>“Uncle Barnabas!”</p> +<p>His voice broke with emotion. Then he murmured: +“We’ll go to see <i>her</i>, now.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_260' name='page_260'></a>260</span></p> +<p>As they passed out into the corridor a reporter +hastened up to them.</p> +<p>“Governor,” he asked, with impudent directness, +“are you going to pardon Jud Bramble?”</p> +<p>Before David could reply, Barnabas stepped +forward:</p> +<p>“Young feller, thar hain’t no pardon ben asked +fer Jud Brumble, and what’s more, thar hain’t +a-goin’ to be none asked––not by me. I come +down here to pay my respecks to the guvner, and +to bring him a few apples, and you kin say so +ef you wanter!”</p> +<p>When Carey came into the library where her +two callers awaited her, one glance into the +divine light of David’s deepening, glowing eyes +told her what she wanted to know.</p> +<p>With a soft little cry she went to Barnabas, +who was holding out his hand in welcome. +Impulsively her lips were pressed against his +withered cheek, and he took her in his arms +as he might have taken Janey.</p> +<p>“Why, Carey!” he said delightedly, “Dave’s +little gal!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_261' name='page_261'></a>261</span></p> +<hr class='pb' /> + +<table summary='announcement' style='margin-left:auto; margin-right:auto; border: 1px solid black; padding:15px; width:400px;'> +<tr><td colspan='2' style='text-align:center; font-size:1.6em;'>AN ANNOUNCEMENT<br /> +of New Books</td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'><span style='font-weight:bold'>Love in a Mask.</span></td><td align='right'>Honoré de Balzac</td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan='2'> +<p style='font-size:smaller; margin: 5px 6% 5px 6%; text-indent:-3%;'>A discovery in the world of literature, a story of +daring and piquant interest. Price . . . $1.00 net.</p> +</td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'><span style='font-weight:bold'>Betty Moore’s Journal.</span></td><td align='right'>Mrs. Mabel D. Carry</td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan='2'> +<p style='font-size:smaller; margin: 5px 6% 5px 6%; text-indent:-3%;'>A gallant little charge for the rights of motherhood +among the wealthy indifferent, and from a most +important viewpoint. Price . . . $1.00 net.</p> +</td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'><span style='font-weight:bold'>The Joy of Gardens.</span></td><td align='right'>Lena May McCauley</td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan='2'> +<p style='font-size:smaller; margin: 5px 6% 5px 6%; text-indent:-3%;'>“Miss McCauley has proved in this book her right +to the beauties of nature, for the book delights +by its charm of description, its riot of color, and +its carnival of blossom.”––<i>The Boston Herald.</i> +Price . . . $1.75 net.</p> +</td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'><span style='font-weight:bold'>The Lovers.</span></td><td align='right'>Eden Phillpotts</td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan='2'> +<p style='font-size:smaller; margin: 5px 6% 5px 6%; text-indent:-3%;'>An “intense” tale of love and war, the ingenuity +and daring of American prisoners on British soil +brought into stirring play with the integrity of +John Bull’s humble officials. Price . . . $1.35 net.</p> +</td></tr> + +<tr><td align='left'><span style='font-weight:bold'>Lady Eleanor: Lawbreaker.</span></td><td align='right'>Robert Barr</td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan='2'> +<p style='font-size:smaller; margin: 5px 6% 5px 6%; text-indent:-3%;'>“Lady Eleanor is a brilliant little story of +Sheridan’s time, clever and tingling with interest. +Though a love story pure and simple, the tale +is charged throughout with the spirit of the +great playwright and is a mirror of his circle and +hour.”––<i>The Argus</i>, Albany, N. Y. +Price . . . $1.00 net</p> +</td></tr> + +<tr><td colspan='2' style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em;'>RAND McNALLY & COMPANY</td></tr> +<tr> +<td><p style='text-align: left; margin-left:10%;'>CHICAGO</p></td> +<td><p style='text-align: right; margin-right:10%;'>NEW YORK</p></td></tr> +</table> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAVID DUNNE***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 29128-h.txt or 29128-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/9/1/2/29128">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/1/2/29128</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: David Dunne + A Romance of the Middle West + + +Author: Belle Kanaris Maniates + + + +Release Date: June 15, 2009 [eBook #29128] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DAVID DUNNE*** + + +E-text prepared by Roger Frank and the Project Gutenberg Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations. + See 29128-h.htm or 29128-h.zip: + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/29128/29128-h/29128-h.htm) + or + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/29128/29128-h.zip) + + + + + +DAVID DUNNE + +A Romance of the Middle West + +by + +BELLE KANARIS MANIATES + +With illustrations by John Drew + + + + + + + +[Illustration: "_He stood as if at bay, his face pale, his eyes riveted +on those floating banners_" Page 218] + + + +Rand McNally & Company +Chicago--New York + +Copyright, 1912, by +Rand, McNally & Company + + + + + +To Milly and Gardner + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + "_He stood as if at bay, his face pale, his eyes + riveted on those floating banners_" _Frontispiece_ + + FACING PAGE + + "'_Dave's little gal!_'" 11 + + "_With proudly protective air, David walked beside + the stiffly starched little girl_" 42 + + "_David's friends were surprised to receive an + off-hand invitation from him to 'drop in for a little + country spread'_" 148 + + "_He kept his word. Jud was cleared_" 158 + + "_It was a relief to find Carey alone_" 224 + + "_'Carey, will you make the dream a reality?'_" 238 + + + + +[Illustration: "'_Dave's little gal!_'"] + + + + +PART ONE + +CHAPTER I + + +Across lots to the Brumble farm came the dusty apparition of a boy, a +tousle-headed, freckle-faced, gaunt-eyed little fellow, clad in a sort +of combination suit fashioned from a pair of overalls and a woman's +shirtwaist. In search of "Miss M'ri," he looked into the kitchen, the +henhouse, the dairy, and the flower garden. Not finding her in any of +these accustomed places, he stood still in perplexity. + +"Miss M'ri!" rang out his youthful, vibrant treble. + +There was a note of promise in the pleasant voice that came back in +subterranean response. + +"Here, David, in the cellar." + +The lad set down the tin pail he was carrying and eagerly sped to the +cellar. His fondest hopes were realized. M'ri Brumble, thirty odd +years of age, blue of eye, slightly gray of hair, and sweet of heart, +was lifting the cover from the ice-cream freezer. + +"Well, David Dunne, you came in the nick of time," she said, looking +up with kindly eyes. "It's just frozen. I'll dish you up some now, if +you will run up to the pantry and fetch two saucers--biggest you can +find." + +Fleetly David footed the stairs and returned with two soup plates. + +"These were the handiest," he explained apologetically as he handed +them to her. + +"Just the thing," promptly reassured M'ri, transferring a heaping +ladle of yellow cream to one of the plates. "Easy to eat out of, +too." + +"My, but you are giving me a whole lot," he said, watching her +approvingly and encouragingly. "I hope you ain't robbing yourself." + +"Oh, no; I always make plenty," she replied, dishing a smaller portion +for herself. "Here's enough for our dinner and some for you to carry +home to your mother." + +"I haven't had any since last Fourth of July," he observed in +plaintive reminiscence as they went upstairs. + +"Why, David Dunne, how you talk! You just come over here whenever you +feel like eating ice cream, and I'll make you some. It's no trouble." + +They sat down on the west, vine-clad porch to enjoy their feast in +leisure and shade. M'ri had never lost her childish appreciation of +the delicacy, and to David the partaking thereof was little short of +ecstasy. He lingered longingly over the repast, and when the soup +plate would admit of no more scraping he came back with a sigh to +sordid cares. + +"Mother couldn't get the washing done no-ways to-day. She ain't +feeling well, but you can have the clothes to-morrow, sure. She sent +you some sorghum," pointing to the pail. + +M'ri took the donation into the kitchen. When she brought back the +pail it was filled with eggs. Not to send something in return would +have been an unpardonable breach of country etiquette. + +"Your mother said your hens weren't laying," she said. + +The boy's eyes brightened. + +"Thank you, Miss M'ri; these will come in good. Our hens won't lay nor +set. Mother says they have formed a union. But I 'most forgot to tell +you--when I came past Winterses, Ziny told me to ask you to come over +as soon as you could." + +"I suppose Zine has got one of her low spells," said Barnabas Brumble, +who had just come up from the barn. "Most likely Bill's bin gittin' +tight agin. He--" + +"Oh, no!" interrupted his sister hastily. "Bill has quit drinking." + +"Bill's allers a-quittin'. Trouble with Bill is, he can't stay quit. I +see him yesterday comin' down the road zig-zaggin' like a rail fence. +Fust she knows, she'll hev to be takin' washin' to support him. +Sometimes I think 't would be a good idee to let him git sent over the +road onct. Mebby 't would learn him a lesson--" + +He stopped short, noticing the significant look in M'ri's eyes and the +two patches of color spreading over David's thin cheeks. He recalled +that four years ago the boy's father had died in state prison. + +"You'd better go right over to Zine's," he added abruptly. + +"I'll wait till after dinner. We'll have it early." + +"Hev it now," suggested Barnabas. + +"Now!" ejaculated David. "It's only half-past ten." + +"I could eat it now jest as well as I could at twelve," argued the +philosophical Barnabas. "Jest as leaves as not." + +There were no iron-clad rules in this comfortable household, +especially when Pennyroyal, the help, was away. + +"All right," assented M'ri with alacrity. "If I am going to do +anything, I like to do it right off quick and get it over with. You +stay, David, if you can eat dinner so early." + +"Yes, I can," he assured her, recalling his scanty breakfast and the +freezer of cream that was to furnish the dessert. "I'll help you get +it, Miss M'ri." + +He brought a pail of water from the well, filled the teakettle, and +then pared the potatoes for her. + +"When will Jud and Janey get their dinner?" he asked Barnabas. + +"They kerried their dinner to-day. The scholars air goin' to hev a +picnic down to Spicely's grove. How comes it you ain't to school, +Dave?" + +"I have to help my mother with the washing," he replied, a slow flush +coming to his face. "She ain't strong enough to do it alone." + +"What on airth kin you do about a washin', Dave?" + +"I can draw the water, turn the wringer, hang up the clothes, empty +the tubs, fetch and carry the washings, and mop." + +Barnabas puffed fiercely at his pipe for a moment. + +"You're a good boy, Dave, a mighty good boy. I don't know what your ma +would do without you. I hed to leave school when I wa'n't as old as +you, and git out and hustle so the younger children could git +eddicated. By the time I wuz foot-loose from farm work, I wuz too old +to git any larnin'. You'd orter manage someway, though, to git +eddicated." + +"Mother's taught me to read and write and spell. When I get old enough +to work for good wages I can go into town to the night school." + +In a short time M'ri had cooked a dinner that would have tempted less +hearty appetites than those possessed by her brother and David. + +"You ain't what might be called a delikit feeder, Dave," remarked +Barnabas, as he replenished the boy's plate for the third time. +"You're so lean I don't see where you put it all." + +David might have responded that the vacuum was due to the fact that +his breakfast had consisted of a piece of bread and his last night's +supper of a dish of soup, but the Dunne pride inclined to reservation +on family and personal matters. He speared another small potato and +paused, with fork suspended between mouth and plate. + +"Mother says she thinks I am hollow inside like a stovepipe." + +"Well, I dunno. Stovepipes git filled sometimes," ruminated his host. + +"Leave room for the ice cream, David," cautioned M'ri, as she +descended to the cellar. + +The lad's eyes brightened as he beheld the golden pyramid. Another +period of lingering bliss, and then with a sigh of mingled content and +regret, David rose from the table. + +"Want me to hook up for you, Mr. Brumble?" he asked, moved to show his +gratitude for the hospitality extended. + +"Why, yes, Dave; wish you would. My back is sorter lame to-day. Land +o' livin'," he commented after David had gone to the barn, "but that +boy swallered them potaters like they wuz so many pills!" + +"Poor Mrs. Dunne!" sighed M'ri. "I am afraid it's all she can do to +keep a very small pot boiling. I am glad she sent the sorghum, so I +could have an excuse for sending the eggs." + +"She hain't poor so long as she hez a young sprout like Dave a-growin' +up. We used to call Peter Dunne 'Old Hickory,' but Dave, he's +second-growth hickory. He's the kind to bend and not break. Jest you +wait till he's seasoned onct." + +After she had packed a pail of ice cream for David, gathered some +flowers for Ziny, and made out a memorandum of supplies for Barnabas +to get in town, M'ri set out on her errand of mercy. + +The "hooking up" accomplished, David, laden with a tin pail in each +hand and carrying in his pocket a drawing of black tea for his mother +to sample, made his way through sheep-dotted pastures to Beechum's +woods, and thence along the bank of the River Rood. Presently he spied +a young man standing knee-deep in the stream in the patient pose +peculiar to fishermen. + +"Catch anything?" called David eagerly. + +The man turned and came to shore. He wore rubber hip boots, dark +trousers, a blue flannel shirt, and a wide-brimmed hat. His eyes, blue +and straight-gazing, rested reminiscently upon the lad. + +"No," he replied calmly. "I didn't intend to catch anything. What is +your name?" + +"David Dunne." + +The man meditated. + +"You must be about twelve years old." + +"How did you know?" + +"I am a good guesser. What have you got in your pail?" + +"Which one?" + +"Both." + +"Thought you were a good guesser." + +The youth laughed. + +"You'll do, David. Let me think--where did you come from just now?" + +"From Brumble's." + +"It's ice cream you've got in your pail," he said assuredly. + +"That's just what it is!" cried the boy in astonishment, "and there's +eggs in the other pail." + +"Let's have a look at the ice cream." + +David lifted the cover. + +"It looks like butter," declared the stranger. + +"It don't taste like butter," was the indignant rejoinder. "Miss M'ri +makes the best cream of any one in the country." + +"I knew that, my young friend, before you did. It's a long time since +I had any, though. Will you sell it to me, David? I will give you half +a dollar for it." + +Half a dollar! His mother had to work all day to earn that amount. The +ice cream was not his--not entirely. Miss M'ri had sent it to his +mother. Still-- + +"'T will melt anyway before I get home," he argued aloud and +persuasively. + +"Of course it will," asserted the would-be purchaser. + +David surrendered the pail, and after much protestation consented to +receive the piece of money which the young man pressed upon him. + +"You'll have to help me eat it now; there's no pleasure in eating ice +cream alone." + +"We haven't any spoons," commented the boy dubiously. + +"We will go to my house and eat it." + +"Where do you live?" asked David in surprise. + +"Just around the bend of the river here." + +David's freckles darkened. He didn't like to be made game of by older +people, for then there was no redress. + +"There isn't any house within two miles of here," he said shortly. + +"What'll you bet? Half a dollar?" + +"No," replied David resolutely. + +"Well, come and see." + +David followed his new acquaintance around the wooded bank. The river +was full of surprises to-day. In midstream he saw what looked to him +like a big raft supporting a small house. + +"That's my shanty boat," explained the young man, as he shoved a +rowboat from shore. "Jump in, my boy." + +"Do you live in it all the time?" asked David, watching with +admiration the easy but forceful pull on the oars. + +"No; I am on a little fishing and hunting expedition." + +"Can't kill anything now," said the boy, a derisive smile flickering +over his features. + +"I am not hunting to kill, my lad. I am hunting old scenes and +memories of other days. I used to live about here. I ran away eight +years ago when I was just your age." + +"What is your name?" asked David interestedly. + +"Joe Forbes." + +"Oh," was the eager rejoinder. "I know. You are Deacon Forbes' wild +son that ran away." + +"So that's how I am known around here, is it? Well, I've come back, to +settle up my father's estate." + +"What did you run away for?" inquired David. + +"Combination of too much stepmother and a roving spirit, I guess. Here +we are." + +He sprang on the platform of the shanty boat and helped David on +board. The boy inspected this novel house in wonder while his host set +saucers and spoons on the table. + +"Would you mind," asked David in an embarrassed manner as he wistfully +eyed the coveted luxury, "if I took my dishful home?" + +"What's the matter?" asked Forbes, his eyes twinkling. "Eaten too much +already?" + +"No; but you see my mother likes it and she hasn't had any since last +summer. I'd rather take mine to her." + +"There's plenty left for your mother. I'll put this pail in a bigger +one and pack ice about it. Then it won't melt." + +"But you paid me for it," protested David. + +"That's all right. Your mother was pretty good to me when I was a +boy. She dried my mop of hair for me once so my stepmother would not +know I'd been in swimming. Tell her I sent the cream to her. Say, you +were right about Miss M'ri making the best cream in the country. It +used to be a chronic pastime with her. That's how I guessed what you +had when you said you came from there. Whenever there was a picnic or +a surprise party in the country she always furnished the ice cream. +Isn't she married yet?" + +"No." + +"Doesn't she keep company with some lucky man?" + +"No," again denied the boy emphatically. + +"What's the matter? She used to be awfully pretty and sweet." + +"She is now, but she don't want any man." + +"Well, now, David, that isn't quite natural, you know. Why do you +think she doesn't want one?" + +"I heard say she was crossed once." + +"Crossed, David? And what might that be?" asked Forbes in a delighted +feint of perplexity. + +"Disappointed in love, you know." + +"Yes; it all comes back now--the gossip of my boyhood days. She was +going with a man when Barnabas' wife died and left two children--one a +baby--and Miss M'ri gave up her lover to do her duty by her brother's +family. So Barnabas never married again?" + +"No; Miss M'ri keeps house and brings up Jud and Janey." + +"I remember Jud--mean little shaver. Janey must be the baby." + +"She's eight now." + +"I remember you, David. You were a little toddler of four--all eyes. +Your folks had a place right on the edge of town." + +"We left it when I was six years old and came out here," informed +David. + +Forbes' groping memory recalled the gossip that had reached him in the +Far West. "Dunne went to prison," he mused, "and the farm was +mortgaged to defray the expenses of the trial." He hastened back to a +safer channel. + +"Miss M'ri was foolish to spoil her life and the man's for fancied +duty," he observed. + +David bridled. + +"Barnabas couldn't go to school when he was a boy because he had to +work so she and the other children could go. She'd ought to have stood +by him." + +"I see you have a sense of duty, too. This county was always strong on +duty. I suppose they've got it in for me because I ran away?" + +"Mr. Brumble says it was a wise thing for you to do. Uncle Larimy says +you were a brick of a boy. Miss Rhody says she had no worry about her +woodpile getting low when you were here." + +"Poor Miss Rhody! Does she still live alone? And Uncle Larimy--is he +uncle to the whole community? What fishing days I had with him! I must +look him up and tell him all my adventures. I have planned a round of +calls for to-night--Miss M'ri, Miss Rhody, Uncle Larimy--" + +"Tell me about your adventures," demanded David breathlessly. + +He listened to a wondrous tale of western life, and never did narrator +get into so close relation with his auditor as did this young ranchman +with David Dunne. + +"I must go home," said the boy reluctantly when Joe had concluded. + +"Come down to-morrow, David, and we'll go fishing." + +"All right. Thank you, sir." + +With heart as light as air, David sped through the woods. He had found +his Hero. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +David struck out from the shelter of the woodland and made his way to +his home, a pathetically small, rudely constructed house. The patch of +land supposed to be a garden, and in proportion to the dimensions of +the building, showed a few feeble efforts at vegetation. It was not +positively known that the Widow Dunne had a clear title to her +homestead, but one would as soon think of foreclosing a mortgage on a +playhouse, or taking a nest from a bird, as to press any claim on this +fallow fragment in the midst of prosperous farmlands. + +Some discouraged looking fowls picked at the scant grass, a lean cow +switched a lackadaisical tail, and in a pen a pig grunted his +discontent. + +David went into the little kitchen, where a woman was bending wearily +over a washtub. + +"Mother," cried the boy in dismay, "you said you'd let the washing go +till to-morrow. That's why I didn't come right back." + +She paused in the rubbing of a soaped garment and wrung the suds from +her tired and swollen hands. + +"I felt better, David, and I thought I'd get them ready for you to +hang out." + +David took the garment from her. + +"Sit down and eat this ice cream Miss M'ri sent--no, I mean Joe Forbes +sent you. There was more, but I sold it for half a dollar; and here's +a pail of eggs and a drawing of tea she wants you to sample. She says +she is no judge of black tea." + +"Joe Forbes!" exclaimed his mother interestedly. "I thought maybe he +would be coming back to look after the estate. Is he going to stay?" + +"I'll tell you all about him, mother, if you will sit down." + +He began a vigorous turning of the wringer. + +The patient, tired-looking eyes of the woman brightened as she dished +out a saucer of the cream. The weariness in the sensitive lines of her +face and the prominence of her knuckles bore evidence of a life of +sordid struggle, but, above all, the mother love illumined her +features with a flash of radiance. + +"You're a good provider, David; but tell me where you have been for so +long, and where did you see Joe?" + +He gave her a faithful account of his dinner at the Brumble farm and +his subsequent meeting with Joe, working the wringer steadily as he +talked. + +"There!" he exclaimed with a sigh of satisfaction, "they are ready for +the line, but before I hang them out I am going to cook your dinner." + +"I am rested now, David. I will cook me an egg." + +"No, I will," insisted the boy, going to the stove. + +A few moments later, with infinite satisfaction, he watched her +partake of crisp toast, fresh eggs, and savory tea. + +"Did you see Jud and Janey?" she asked suddenly. + +"No; they were at school." + +"David, you shall go regularly to school next fall." + +"No," said David stoutly; "next fall I am going to work regularly for +some of the farmers, and you are not going to wash any more." + +Her eyes grew moist. + +"David, will you always be good--will you grow up to be as good a man +as I want you to be?" + +"How good do you want me to be?" he asked dubiously. + +A radiant and tender smile played about her mouth. + +"Not goodygood, David; but will you always be honest, and brave, and +kind, as you are now?" + +"I'll try, mother." + +"And never forget those who do you a kindness, David; always show your +gratitude." + +"Yes, mother." + +"And, David, watch your temper and, whatever happens, I shall have no +fears for your future." + +His mother seldom talked to him in this wise. He thought about it +after he lay in his little cot in the sitting room that night; then +his mind wandered to Joe Forbes and his wonderful tales of the West. +He fell asleep to dream of cowboys and prairies. When he awoke the sun +was sending golden beams through the eastward window. + +"Mother isn't up," he thought in surprise. He stole quietly out to the +kitchen, kindled a fire with as little noise as possible, put the +kettle over, set the table, and then went into the one tiny bedroom +where his mother lay in her bed, still--very still. + +"Mother," he said softly. + +There was no response. + +"Mother," he repeated. Then piercingly, in excitement and fear, +"Mother!" + +At last he knew. + +He ran wildly to the outer door. Bill Winters, fortunately sober, was +driving slowly by. + +"Bill!" + +"What's the matter, Dave?" looking into the boy's white face. "Your ma +ain't sick, is she?" + +David's lips quivered, but seemed almost unable to articulate. + +"She's dead," he finally whispered. + +"I'll send Zine right over," exclaimed Bill, slapping the reins +briskly across the drooping neck of his horse. + +Very soon the little house was filled to overflowing with kind and +sympathetic neighbors who had come to do all that had to be done. +David sat on the back doorstep until M'ri came; before the expression +in his eyes she felt powerless to comfort him. + +"The doctor says your mother died in her sleep," she told him. "She +didn't suffer any." + +He made no reply. Oppressed by the dull pain for which there is no +ease, he wandered from the house to the garden, and from the garden +back to the house throughout the day. At sunset Barnabas drove over. + +"I shall stay here to-night, Barnabas," said M'ri, "but I want you to +drive back and get some things. I've made out a list. Janey will know +where to find them." + +"Sha'n't I take Dave back to stay to-night?" he suggested. + +M'ri hesitated, and looked at David. + +"No," he said dully, following Barnabas listlessly down the path to +the road. + +Barnabas, keen, shrewd, and sharp at a bargain, had a heart that ever +softened to motherless children. + +"Dave," he said gently, "your ma won't never hev to wash no more, and +she'll never be sick nor tired agen." + +It was the first leaven to his loss, and he held tight to the horny +hand of his comforter. After Barnabas had driven away there came +trudging down the road the little, lithe figure of an old man, who was +carrying a large box. His mildly blue, inquiring eyes looked out from +beneath their hedge of shaggy eyebrows. His hair and his beard were +thick and bushy. Joe Forbes maintained that Uncle Larimy would look no +different if his head were turned upside down. + +"David," he said softly, "I've brung yer ma some posies. She liked my +yaller roses, you know. I'm sorry my laylocks are gone. They come +early this year." + +"Thank you, Uncle Larimy." + +A choking sensation warned David to say no more. + +"Things go 'skew sometimes, Dave, but the sun will shine agen," +reminded the old man, as he went on into the house. + +Later, when sundown shadows had vanished and the first glimmer of the +stars radiated from a pale sky, Joe came over. David felt no thrill at +sight of his hero. The halo was gone. He only remembered with a dull +ache that the half dollar had brought his mother none of the luxuries +he had planned to buy for her. + +"David," said the young ranchman, his deep voice softened, "my mother +died when I was younger than you are, but you won't have a stepmother +to make life unbearable for you." + +The boy looked at him with inscrutable eyes. + +"Don't you want to go back with me to the ranch, David? You can learn +to ride and shoot." + +David shook his head forlornly. His spirit of adventure was +smothered. + +"We'll talk about it again, David," he said, as he went in to consult +M'ri. + +"Don't you think the only thing for the boy to do is to go back with +me? I am going to buy the ranch on which I've been foreman, and I'll +try to do for David all that should have been done for me when I, at +his age, felt homeless and alone. He's the kind that takes things hard +and quiet; life in the open will pull him up." + +"No, Joe," replied M'ri resolutely. "He's not ready for that kind of +life yet. He needs to be with women and children a while longer. +Barnabas and I are going to take him. Barnabas suggested it, and I +told Mrs. Dunne one day, when her burdens were getting heavy, that we +would do so if anything like this should happen." + +Joe looked at her with revering eyes. + +"Miss M'ri, you are so good to other people's children, what would you +be to your own!" + +The passing of M'ri's youth had left a faint flush of prettiness like +the afterglow of a sunset faded into twilight. She was of the kind +that old age would never wither. In the deep blue eyes was a patient, +reflective look that told of a past but unforgotten romance. She +turned from his gaze, but not before he had seen the wistfulness his +speech had evoked. After he had gone, she sought David. + +"I am going to stay here with you, David, for two or three days. Then +Barnabas and I want you to come to live with us. I had a long talk +with your mother one day, and I told her if anything happened to her +you should be our boy. That made her less anxious about the future, +David. Will you come?" + +The boy looked up with his first gleam of interest in mundane things. + +"I'd like it, but would--Jud?" + +"I am afraid Jud doesn't like anything, David," she replied with a +sigh. "That's one reason I want you--to be a big brother to Janey, for +I think that is what she needs, and what Jud can never be." + +The boy remembered what his mother had counseled. + +"I'll always take care of Janey," he earnestly assured her. + +"I know you will, David." + +Two dreary days passed in the way that such days do pass, and then +David rode to his new home with Barnabas and M'ri. + +Jud Brumble, a refractory, ungovernable lad of fifteen, didn't look +altogether unfavorably upon the addition to the household, knowing +that his amount of work would thereby be lessened, and that he would +have a new victim for his persecutions and tyrannies. + +Janey, a little rosebud of a girl with dimples and flaxen curls, hung +back shyly and looked at David with awed eyes. She had been frightened +by what she had heard about his mother, and in a vague, disconnected +way she associated him with Death. M'ri went to the child's bedside +that night and explained the situation. "Poor Davey is all alone, now, +and very unhappy, so we must be kind to him. I told him you were to be +his little sister." + +Then M'ri took David to a gabled room, at each end of which was a +swinging window--"one for seeing the sun rise, and one for seeing it +set," she said, as she turned back the covers from the spotless white +bed. She yearned to console him, but before the mute look of grief in +his big eyes she was silent. + +"I wish he would cry," she said wistfully to Barnabas, "he hasn't shed +a tear since his mother died." + +No sooner had the sound of her footsteps ceased than David threw off +his armor of self-restraint and burst into a passion of sobs, the +wilder for their long repression. He didn't hear the patter of little +feet on the floor, and not until two mothering arms were about his +neck did he see the white-robed figure of Janey. + +"Don't cry, Davey," she implored, her quivering red mouth against his +cheek. "I'm sorry; but I am your little sister now, so you must love +me, Davey. Aunt M'ri told me so." + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +The lilac-scented breeze of early morning blowing softly through the +vine-latticed window and stirring its white draperies brought David to +wakefulness. With the first surprise at the strangeness of his +surroundings came a fluttering of memory. The fragrance of lilacs was +always hereafter to bring back the awfulness of this waking moment. + +He hurriedly dressed, and went down to the kitchen where M'ri was +preparing breakfast. + +"Good morning, David. Janey has gone to find some fresh eggs. You may +help her hunt them, if you will." + +Knowing the haunts of hens, he went toward the currant bushes. It was +one of those soft days that link late spring and dawning summer. The +coolness of the sweet-odored air, the twitter of numberless dawn +birds, the entreating lowing of distant cattle--all breathing life and +strength--were like a resurrection call to David. + +On the east porch, which was his retreat for a smoke or a rest between +the intervals of choring and meals, Barnabas sat, securely wedged in +by the washing machine, the refrigerator, the plant stand, the churn, +the kerosene can, and the lawn mower. He gazed reflectively after +David. + +"What are you going to hev Dave do to help, M'ri?" + +M'ri came to the door and considered a moment. + +"First of all, Barnabas, I am going to have him eat. He is so thin and +hungry looking." + +Barnabas chuckled. His sister's happiest mission was the feeding of +hungry children. + +After breakfast, when Janey's rebellious curls were again being +brushed into shape, M'ri told David he could go to school if he liked. +To her surprise the boy flushed and looked uncomfortable. M'ri's +intuitions were quick and generally correct. + +"It's so near the end of the term, though," she added casually, as an +afterthought, "that maybe you had better wait until next fall to start +in." + +"Yes, please, Miss M'ri, I'd rather," he said quickly and gratefully. + +When Janey, dinner pail in hand and books under arm, was ready to +start, David asked in surprise where Jud was. + +"Oh, he has gone long ago. He thinks he is too big to walk with +Janey." + +David quietly took the pail and books from the little girl. + +"I'll take you to school, Janey, and come for you this afternoon." + +"We won't need to git no watch dog to foller Janey," said Barnabas, as +the children started down the path. + +"David," called M'ri, "stop at Miss Rhody's on your way back and find +out whether my waist is finished." + +With proudly protective air, David walked beside the stiffly starched +little girl, who had placed her hand trustfully in his. They had gone +but a short distance when they were overtaken by Joe Forbes, mounted +on a shining black horse. He reined up and looked down on them +good-humoredly. + +[Illustration: "_With proudly protective air, David walked beside the +stiffly starched little girl_"] + +"Going to school, children?" + +"I am. Davey's just going to carry my things for me," explained +Janey. + +"Well, I can do that and carry you into the bargain. Help her up, +David." + +Janey cried out in delight at the prospect of a ride. David lifted her +up, and Joe settled her comfortably in the saddle, encircling her with +his arm. Then he looked down whimsically into David's disappointed +eyes. + +"I know it's a mean trick, Dave, to take your little sweetheart from +you." + +"She's not my sweetheart; she's my sister." + +"Has she promised to be that already? Get up, Firefly." + +They were off over the smooth country road, Forbes shouting a +bantering good-by and Janey waving a triumphant dinner pail, while +David, trudging on his way, experienced the desolate feeling of the +one who is left behind. Across fields he came to the tiny, thatched +cottage of Miss Rhody Crabbe, who stood on the crumbling doorstep +feeding some little turkeys. + +"Come in, David. I suppose you're after M'ri's waist. Thar's jest a +few stitches to take, and I'll hev it done in no time." + +He followed her into the little house, which consisted of a sitting +room "with bedroom off," and a kitchen whose floor was sand scoured; +the few pieces of tinware could be used as mirrors. Miss Rhody seated +herself by the open window and began to ply her needle. She did not +sew swiftly and smoothly, in feminine fashion, but drew her +long-threaded needle through the fabric in abrupt and forceful jerks. +A light breeze fluttered in through the window, but it could not +ruffle the wisp-locked hair that showed traces of a water-dipped comb +and was strained back so taut that a little mound of flesh encircled +each root. Her eyes were bead bright and swift moving. Everything +about her, to the aggressively prominent knuckles, betokened energy +and industry. She was attired in a blue calico shortened by many +washings, but scrupulously clean and conscientiously starched. Her +face shone with soap and serenity. + +Miss Rhody's one diversion in a busy but monotonous life was news. She +was wretched if she did not receive the latest bulletins; but it was +to her credit that she never repeated anything that might work harm or +mischief. David was one of her chosen confidants. He was a safe +repository of secrets, a sympathetic listener, and a wise suggester. + +"I'm glad M'ri's hevin' a blue waist. She looks so sweet in blue. I've +made her clo'es fer years. My, how I hoped fer to make her weddin' +clo'es onct! It wuz a shame to hev sech a good match spiled. It wuz +too bad she hed to hev them two chillern on her hands--" + +"And now she has a third," was what David thought he read in her eyes, +and he hastened to assert: "I am going to help all I can, and I'll +soon be old enough to take care of myself." + +"Land sakes, David, you'd be wuth more'n yer keep to any one. I +wonder," she said ruminatingly, "if Martin Thorne will wait for her +till Janey's growed up." + +"Martin Thorne!" exclaimed David excitedly. "Judge Thorne? Why, was he +the one--" + +"He spent his Sunday evenings with her," she asserted solemnly. + +In the country code of courtships this procedure was conclusive proof, +and David accepted it as such. + +"He wuz jest plain Lawyer Thorne when he wuz keepin' company with +M'ri, but we all knew Mart wuz a comin' man, and M'ri wuz jest proud +of him. You could see that, and he wuz sot on her." + +Her work momentarily neglected, Rhody was making little reminiscent +stabs at space with her needle as she spoke. + +"'T wuz seven years ago. M'ri wuz twenty-eight and Mart ten years +older. It would hev ben a match as sure as preachin', but Eliza died +and M'ri, she done her duty as she seen it. Sometimes I think folks is +near-sighted about their duty. There is others as is queer-sighted. +Bein' crossed hain't spiled M'ri though. She's kep' sweet through it +all, but when a man don't git his own way, he's apt to curdle. Mart +got sort of tart-tongued and cold feelin'. There wa'n't no reason why +they couldn't a kep' on bein' friends, but Mart must go and make a +fool vow that he'd never speak to M'ri until she sent him word she'd +changed her mind, so he hez ben a-spitin' of his face ever sence. It's +wonderful how some folks do git in their own way, but, my sakes, I +must git to work so you kin take this waist home." + +This was David's first glimpse of a romance outside of story-books, +but the name of Martin Thorne evoked disturbing memories. Six years +ago he had acted as attorney to David's father in settling his +financial difficulties, and later, after Peter Dunne's death, the +Judge had settled the small estate. It was only through his efforts +that they were enabled to have the smallest of roofs over their +defenseless heads. + +"Miss Rhody," he asked after a long meditation on life in general, +"why didn't you ever marry?" + +Miss Rhody paused again in her work, and two little spots of red crept +into her cheeks. + +"'Tain't from ch'ice I've lived single, David. I've ben able to take +keer of myself, but I allers hed a hankerin' same as any woman, as is +a woman, hez fer a man, but I never got no chanst to meet men folks. I +wuz raised here, and folks allers hed it all cut out fer me to be an +old maid. When a woman onct gets that name fixt on her, it's all off +with her chances. No man ever comes nigh her, and she can't git out of +her single rut. I never could get to go nowhars, and I wa'n't that +bold kind that makes up to a man fust, afore he gives a sign." + +David pondered over this wistful revelation for a few moments, seeking +a means for her seemingly hopeless escape from a life of single +blessedness, for David was a sympathetic young altruist, and felt it +incumbent upon him to lift the burdens of his neighbors. Then he +suggested encouragingly: + +"Miss Rhody, did you know that there was a paper that gets you +acquainted with men? That's the way they say Zine Winters got +married." + +"Yes, and look what she drawed!" she scoffed. "Bill! I don't know how +they'd live if Zine hadn't a-gone in heavy on hens and turkeys. She +hez to spend her hull time a-traipsin' after them turkeys, and thar +ain't nuthin' that's given to gaddin' like turkeys that I know on, +less 't is Chubbses' hired gal. No, David, it's chance enough when +you git a man you've knowed allers, but a stranger! Well! I want to +know what I'm gittin'. Thar, the last stitch in M'ri's waist is took, +and, David, you won't tell no one what I said about Mart Thorne and +her, nor about my gittin' merried?" + +David gave her a reproachful look, and she laughed shamefacedly. + +"I know, David, you kin keep a secret. It's like buryin' a thing to +tell it to you. My, this waist'll look fine on M'ri. I jest love the +feel of silk. I'd ruther hev a black silk dress than--" + +"A husband," prompted David slyly. + +"David Dunne, I'll box yer ears if you ever think again of what I +said. I am allers a-thinkin' of you as if you wuz a stiddy grown man, +and then fust thing I know you're nuthin' but a teasin' boy. Here's +the bundle, and don't you want a nutcake, David?" + +"No, thank you, Miss Rhody. I ate a big breakfast." + +A fellow feeling had prompted David even in his hungriest days to +refrain from accepting Miss Rhody's proffers of hospitality. He knew +the emptiness of her larder, for though she had been thrifty and +hard-working, she had paid off a mortgage and had made good the +liabilities of an erring nephew. + +When David returned he found Miss M'ri in the dairy. It was churning +day, and she was arranging honey-scented, rose-stamped pats of butter +on moist leaves of crisp lettuce. + +"David," she asked, looking up with a winning smile, "will you tell me +why you didn't want to go to school?" + +The boy's face reddened, but his eyes looked frankly into hers. + +"Yes, Miss M'ri." + +"Before you tell me, David," she interposed, "I want you to remember +that, from now on, Barnabas and I are your uncle and aunt." + +"Well, then, Aunt M'ri," began David, a ring of tremulous eagerness in +his voice, "I can read and write and spell, but I don't know much +about arithmetic and geography. I was ashamed to start in at the baby +class. I thought I'd try and study out of Jud's books this summer." + +"That's a good idea, David. We'll begin now. You'll find an elementary +geography in the sitting room on the shelf, and you may study the +first lesson. This afternoon, when my work is done, I'll hear you +recite it." + +David took the book and went out into the old orchard. When M'ri went +to call him to dinner he was sprawled out in the latticed shadow of an +apple tree, completely absorbed in the book. + +"You have spent two hours on your first lesson, David. You ought to +have it well learned." + +He looked at her in surprise. + +"I read the whole book through, Aunt M'ri." + +"Oh, David," she expostulated, "that's the way Barnabas takes his +medicine. Instead of the prescribed dose after each meal he takes +three doses right after breakfast--so as to get it off his mind and +into his system, he says. We'll just have one short lesson in +geography and one in arithmetic each day. You mustn't do things in +leaps. It's the steady dog trot that lasts, and counts on the long +journey." + +When David was on his way to bring Janey from school that afternoon +he was again overtaken by Joe Forbes. + +"Dave, I am going to Chicago in a few days, and I shall stop there +long enough to buy a few presents to send back to some of my friends. +Here's my list. Let me see, Uncle Larimy, a new-fangled fishing +outfit; Barnabas, a pipe; Miss M'ri--guess, Dave." + +"You're the guesser, you know," reminded David. + +"It's a new kind of ice-cream freezer, of course." + +"She's going to freeze ice to-night," recalled David anticipatingly. + +"Freeze ice! What a paradoxical process! But what I want you to +suggest is something for Miss Rhody--something very nice." + +"What she wants most is something you can't get her," thought David, +looking up with a tantalizing little smile. Then her second wish +occurred to him. + +"I know something she wants dreadfully; something she never expects to +have." + +"That is just what I want to get for her." + +"It'll cost a lot." + +Joe disposed of that consideration by a munificent wave of the hand. + +"What is it?" + +"A black silk dress," informed the boy delightedly. + +"She shall have it. How many yards does it take, I wonder?" + +"We can ask Janey's teacher when we get to school," suggested the +boy. + +"So we can. I contrived to find out that Janey's heart is set on a +string of beads--blue beads. I suppose, to be decent, I shall have to +include Jud. What will it be?" + +"He wants a gun. He's a good shot, too." + +They loitered on the way, discussing Joe's gifts, until they met Janey +and Little Teacher coming toward them hand in hand. David quickly +secured the pail and books before Joe could appropriate them. He +wasn't going to be cut out a second time in one day. + +"Miss Williams," asked the young ranchman, "will your knowledge of +mathematics tell me how many yards of black silk I must get to make a +dress, and what kind of fixings I shall need for it?" + +"You don't have to know," she replied. "Just go into any department +store and tell them you want a dress pattern and the findings. They +will do the rest." + +"Shopping made easy. You shall have your reward now. My shanty boat is +just about opposite here. Suppose the four of us go down to the river +and have supper on board?" + +Little Teacher, to whom life was a vista of blackboards dotted with +vacations, thought this would be delightful. A passing child was made +a messenger to the farm, and they continued their way woodward to the +river, where the shanty boat was anchored. Little Teacher set the +table, Joe prepared the meal, while David sat out on deck, beguiling +Janey with wonderful stories. + +"This seems beautifully domestic to a cowboy," sighed Joe, looking +around the supper table, his gaze lingering on Little Teacher, who was +dimpling happily. Imaginative David proceeded to weave his third +romance that day, with a glad little beating of the heart, for he had +feared that Joe might be planning to wait for Janey, as the Judge was +doubtless waiting for M'ri. + +The children went directly home after supper, Joe accompanying Little +Teacher. Despite the keenness of David's sorrow the day had been a +peaceful, contented one, but when the shadows began to lengthen to +that most lonesome hour of lonesome days, when from home-coming cows +comes the sound of tinkling bells, a wave of longing swept over him, +and he stole away to the orchard. Again, a soft, sustaining little +hand crept into his. + +"Don't, Davey," pleaded a caressing voice, "don't make me cry." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Outside of the time allotted for the performance of a wholesome amount +of farm work and the preparation of his daily lessons, David was free +for diversions which had hitherto entered sparingly into his life. +After school hours and on Saturdays the Barnabas farm was the general +rendezvous for all the children within a three-mile radius. The old +woods by the river rang with the gay treble of childish laughter and +the ecstatic barking of dogs dashing in frantic pursuit. There was +always an open sesame to the cookie jar and the apple barrel. + +David suffered the common fate of all in having a dark cloud. Jud was +the dark cloud, and his silver lining had not yet materialized. + +In height and physical strength Jud was the superior, so he delighted +in taunting and goading the younger boy. There finally came a day when +instinctive self-respect upheld David in no longer resisting the call +to arms. Knowing Barnabas' disapproval of fighting, and with his +mother's parting admonition pricking his conscience, he went into +battle reluctantly and half-heartedly, so the fight was not prolonged, +and Jud's victory came easily. Barnabas, hurrying to the scene of +action, called Jud off and reprimanded him for fighting a smaller boy, +which hurt David far more than did the pummeling he had received. + +"What wuz you fighting fer, anyway?" he demanded of David. + +"Nothing," replied David laconically, "just fighting." + +"Jud picks on Davey all the time," was the information furnished by +the indignant Janey, who had followed her father. + +"Well, I forbid either one of you to fight again. Now, Jud, see that +you leave Dave alone after this." + +Emboldened by his easily won conquest and David's apparent lack of +prowess, Jud continued his jeering and nagging, but David set his lips +in a taut line of finality and endured in silence until there came the +taunt superlative. + +"Your mother was a washerwoman, and your father a convict." + +There surged through David a fierce animal hate. With a tight closing +of his hardy young fist, he rushed to the onslaught so swiftly and so +impetuously that Jud recoiled in fear and surprise. With his first +tiger-like leap David had the older boy by the throat and bore him to +the ground, maintaining and tightening his grip as they went down. + +"I'll kill you!" + +David's voice was steady and calm, but the boy on the ground +underneath felt the very hairs of his head rising at the look in the +dark eyes above his own. + +Fortunately for both of them Barnabas was again at hand. + +He jerked David to his feet. + +"Fightin' again, are you, after I told you not to!" + +"It was him, David, that began it. I never struck him," whimpered Jud, +edging away behind his father. + +"Did you, David?" asked Barnabas bluntly, still keeping his hold on +the boy, who was quivering with passion. + +"Yes." + +His voice sounded odd and tired, and there was an ache of bafflement +in his young eyes. + +"What fer? What did he do to make you so mad?" + +"He said my mother was a washerwoman and my father a convict! Let me +go! I'll kill him!" + +With a returning rush of his passion, David struggled in the man's +grasp. + +"Wait, Dave, I'll tend to him. Go to the barn, Jud!" he commanded his +son. + +Jud quailed before this new, strange note in his father's voice. + +"David was fighting. You said neither of us was to fight. 'T ain't +fair to take it out on me." + +Fairness was one of Barnabas' fixed and prominent qualities, but Jud +was not to gain favor by it this time. + +"Well, you don't suppose I'm a-goin' to lick Dave fer defendin' his +parents, do you? Besides, I'm not a-goin' to lick you fer fightin', +but fer sayin' what you did. I guess you'd hev found out that Dave +could wallop you ef he is smaller and younger." + +"He can't!" snarled Jud. "I didn't have no show. He came at me by +surprise." + +Barnabas reflected a moment. Then he said gravely: + +"When it's in the blood of two fellers to fight, why thar's got to be +a fight, that's all. Thar won't never be no peace until this ere +question's settled. Dave, do you still want to fight him?" + +A fierce aftermath of passion gleamed in David's eyes. + +"Yes!" he cried, his nostrils quivering. + +"And you'll fight fair? Jest to punish--with no thought of killin'?" + +"I'll fight fair," agreed the boy. + +"I'll see that you do. Come here, Jud." + +"I don't want to fight," protested Jud sullenly. + +"He's afraid," said David gleefully, every muscle quivering and +straining. + +"I ain't!" yelled Jud. + +"Come on, then," challenged David, a fierce joy tugging at his +heart. + +Jud came with deliberate precision and a swing of his left. He was +heavier and harder, but David was more agile, and his whole heart was +in the fight this time. They clutched and grappled and parried, and +finally went down; first one was on top, then the other. It was the +wage of brute force against elasticity; bluster against valor. Jud +fought in fear; David, in ferocity. At last David bore his oppressor +backward and downward. Jud, exhausted, ceased to struggle. + +"Thar!" exclaimed Barnabas, drawing a relieved breath. "I guess you +know how you stand now, and we'll all feel better. You've got all +that's comin' to you, Jud, without no more from me. You can both go to +the house and wash up." + +Uncle Larimy had arrived at the finish of the fight. + +"What's the trouble, Barnabas?" he asked interestedly, as the boys +walked away. + +The explanation was given, but they spoke in tones so low that David +could not overhear any part of the conversation from the men +following him until, as they neared the house, Uncle Larimy said: "I +was afeerd Dave hed his pa's temper snoozin' inside him. Mebby he'd +orter be told fer a warnin'." + +"I don't want to say nuthin' about it less I hev to. I'll wait till +the next time he loses his temper." + +David ducked his head in the wash basin on the bench outside the door. +After supper, when Barnabas came out on the back porch for his hour of +pipe, he called his young charge to him. Since the fight, David's face +had worn a subdued but contented expression. + +"Looks," thought Barnabas, "kinder eased off, like a dog when he licks +his chops arter the taste of blood has been drawed." + +"Set down, Dave. I want to talk to you. You done right to fight fer +yer folks, and you're a good fighter, which every boy orter be, but +when I come up to you and Jud I see that in yer face that I didn't +know was in you. You've got an orful temper, Dave. It's a good thing +to hev--a mighty good thing, if you kin take keer of it, but if you +let it go it's what leads to murder. Your pa hed the same kind of +let-loose temper that got him into heaps of trouble." + +"What did my father do?" he asked abruptly. + +Instinctively he had shrunk from asking his mother this question, and +pride had forbidden his seeking the knowledge elsewhere. + +"Some day, when you are older, you will know all about it. But +remember, when any one says anything like what Jud did, that yer ma +wouldn't want fer you to hev thoughts of killin'. You see, you fought +jest as well--probably better--when you hed cooled off a mite and hed +promised to fight fair. And ef you can't wrastle your temper and down +it as you did Jud, you're not a fust-class fighter." + +"I'll try," said David slowly, unable, however, to feel much remorse +for his outbreak. + +"Jud'll let you alone arter this. You'd better go to bed now. You need +a little extry sleep." + +M'ri came into his room when he was trying to mend a long rent in his +shirt. He flushed uncomfortably when her eye fell on the garment. She +took it from him. + +"I'll mend it, David. I don't wonder that your patience slipped its +leash, but--never fight when you have murder in your heart." + +When she had left the room, Janey's face, pink and fair as a baby +rose, looked in at the door. + +"It's very wicked to fight and get so mad, Davey." + +"I know it," he acknowledged readily. It was useless trying to make a +girl understand. + +There was a silence. Janey still lingered. + +"Davey," she asked in an awed whisper, "does it feel nice to be +wicked?" + +David shook his head non-committally. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +The rather strained relations between Jud and David were eased the +next day by the excitement attending the big package Barnabas brought +from town. It was addressed to David, but the removal of the outer +wrapping disclosed a number of parcels neatly labeled, also a note +from Joe, asking him to distribute the presents. + +David first selected the parcel marked "Janey" and handed it to her. + +"Blue beads!" she cried ecstatically. + +"Let me see, Janey," said M'ri. "Why, they're real turquoises and with +a gold clasp! I'll get you a string of blue beads for now, and you can +put these away till you're grown up." + +"I didn't tell Joe what to get for you, Aunt M'ri; honest, I didn't," +disclaimed David, with a laugh, as he handed the freezer to her. + +"We'll initiate it this very day, David." + +David handed Barnabas his pipe and gave Jud a letter which he opened +wonderingly, uttering a cry of pleasure when he realized the +contents. + +"It's an order on Harkness to let me pick out any rifle in his store. +How did he know? Did you tell him, Dave?" + +"Yes," was the quiet reply. + +"Thank you, Dave. I'll ride right down and get it, and we'll go to the +woods this afternoon and shoot at a mark." + +"All right," agreed David heartily. + +The atmosphere was now quite cleared by the proposed expenditure of +ammunition, and M'ri experienced the sensation as of one beholding a +rainbow. + +David then turned his undivided attention to his own big package, +which contained twelve books, his name on the fly-leaf of each. +Robinson Crusoe, Swiss Family Robinson, Andersen's Fairy Tales, +Arabian Nights, Life of Lincoln, Black Beauty, Oliver Twist, A +Thousand Leagues under the Sea, The Pathfinder, Gulliver's Travels, +Uncle Tom's Cabin, and Young Ranchers comprised the selection. His +eyes gleamed over the enticing titles. + +"You shall have some book shelves for your room, David," promised +M'ri, "and you can start your library. Joe has made a good foundation +for one." + +His eyes longed to read at once, but there were still the two +packages, marked "Uncle Larimy" and "Miss Rhody," to deliver. + +"I can see that Uncle Larimy has a fishing rod, but what do you +suppose he has sent Rhody?" wondered M'ri. + +"A black silk dress. I told him she wanted one." + +"Take it right over there, David. She has waited almost a lifetime for +it." + +"Let me take Uncle Larimy's present," suggested Jud, "and then I'll +ask him to go shooting with us this afternoon." + +David amicably agreed, and went across fields to Miss Rhody's. + +"Land sakes!" she exclaimed, looking at the parcel. "M'ri ain't +a-goin' to hev another dress so soon, is she?" + +"No, Miss Rhody. Some one else is, though." + +"Who is it, David?" she asked curiously. + +"You see Joe Forbes sent some presents from Chicago, and this is what +he sent you." + +"A calico," was her divination, as she opened the package. + +"David Dunne!" she cried in shrill, piping tones, a spot of red on +each cheek. "Just look here!" and she stroked lovingly the lustrous +fold of shining silk. + +"And if here ain't linings, and thread, and sewing silk, and hooks and +eyes! Why, David Dunne, it can't be true! How did he know--David, you +blessed boy, you must have told him!" + +Impulsively she threw her arms about him and hugged him until he +ruefully admitted to himself that she had Jud "beat on the clutch." + +"And say, David, I'm a-goin' to wear this dress. I know folks as lets +their silks wear out a-hangin' up in closets. Don't get half as many +cracks when it hangs on yourself. I b'lieve as them Episcopals do in +lettin' yer light shine, and I never wuz one of them as b'lieved in +savin' yer best to be laid out in. Oh, Lord, David, I kin jest hear +myself a-rustlin' round in it!" + +"Maybe you'll get a husband now," suggested David gravely. + +"Mebby. I'd orter ketch somethin' with this. I never see sech silk. +It's much handsomer than the one Homer Bisbee's bride hed when she +come here from the city. It's orful the way she wastes. Would you +b'lieve it, David, the fust batch of pies she made, she never pricked, +and they all puffed up and bust. David, look here! What's in this +envylope? Forever and way back, ef it hain't a five-doller bill and a +letter. I hain't got my glasses handy. Read it." + +"Dear Miss Rhody," read the boy in his musical voice, "silk is none +too good for you, and I want you to wear this and wear it out. If you +don't, I'll never send you another. I thought you might want some more +trimmings, so I send you a five for same. Sincerely yours, Joe." + +"I don't need no trimmin's, excep' fifty cents for roochin's." + +"I'll tell you what to do, Miss Rhody. When you get your dress made +we'll go into town and you can get your picture taken in the dress and +give it to Joe when he comes back." + +"That's jest what I'll do. I never hed my likeness took. David, you've +got an orful quick mind. Is Joe coming home? I thought he callated to +go West." + +"Not until fall. He's going to spend the summer in his shanty boat on +the river." + +"I'll hurry up and get it made up afore he comes. Tell me what he sent +all your folks." + +"Joe's a generous boy, like his ma's folks," she continued, when he +had enumerated their gifts. "I am glad fer him that his pa and his +stepmother was so scrimpin'. David, would you b'lieve it, in that +great big house of the Forbeses thar wa'n't never a tidy on a chair, +and not a picter on the wall! It was mighty lucky for Joe that his +stepmother died fust, so he got all the money." + +David hastened home and sought his retreat in the orchard with one of +his books. M'ri, curious to know what his selection had been, scanned +the titles of the remaining eleven volumes. + +"Well, who would have thought of a boy's preferring fairy tales!" + +David read until dinner time, but spent the afternoon with Uncle +Larimy and Jud in the woods, where they received good instruction in +rifle practice. After supper he settled comfortably down with a book, +from which he was recalled by a plaintive little wail. + +"I haven't had a bit of fun to-day, Davey, and it's Saturday, and you +haven't played with me at all!" + +The book closed instantly. + +"Come on out doors, Janey," he invited. + +The sound of childish laughter fell pleasantly on M'ri's ears. She +recalled what Joe Forbes had said about her own children, and an +unbidden tear lingered on her lashes. This little space between +twilight and lamplight was M'ri's favorite hour. In every season but +winter it was spent on the west porch, where she could watch the moon +and the stars come out. Maybe, too, it was because from here she had +been wont to sit in days gone by and watch for Martin's coming. The +time and place were conducive to backward flights of memory, and +M'ri's pictures of the past were most beguiling, except that last one +when Martin Thorne, stern-faced, unrelenting, and vowing that he would +never see her again, had left her alone--to do her duty. + +When the children came in she joined them. Janey, flushed and +breathless from play, was curled up on the couch beside David. He put +his arm caressingly about her and began to relate one of Andersen's +fairy tales. M'ri gazed at them tenderly, and was weaving a future +little romance for her two young charges when Janey said petulantly: +"I don't like fairy stories, Davey. Tell a real one." + +M'ri noted the disappointment in the boy's eyes as he began the +narrating of a more realistic story. + +"David, where did you read that story?" she asked when he had +finished. + +"I made it up," he confessed. + +"Why, David, I didn't know you had such a talent. You must be an +author when you are a man." + +Late that night she saw a light shining from beneath the young +narrator's door. + +"I ought to send him to bed," she meditated, "but, poor lad, he has +had so few pleasures and, after all, childhood is the only time for +thorough enjoyment, so why should I put a feather in its path?" + +David read until after midnight, and went to bed with a book under his +pillow that he might begin his pastime again at dawn. + +After breakfast the next morning M'ri commanded the whole family to +sit down and write their thanks to Joe. David's willing pen flew in +pace with his thoughts as he told of Miss Rhody's delight and his own +revel in book land. Janey made most wretched work of her composition. +She sighed and struggled with thoughts and pencil, which she gnawed at +both ends. Finally she confessed that she couldn't think of anything +more to say. M'ri came to inspect her literary effort, which was +written in huge characters. + +"Dear Joe--" + +"Oh," commented M'ri doubtfully, "I don't know as you should address +him so familiarly." + +"I called him 'Joe' when we rode to school. He told me to," defended +Janey. + +"He's just like a boy," suggested David. + +So M'ri, silenced, read on: "I thank you for your beyewtifull present +which I cannot have." + +"Oh, Janey," expostulated M'ri, laughing; "that doesn't sound very +gracious." + +"Well, you said I couldn't have them till I was grown up." + +"I was wrong," admitted M'ri. "I didn't realize it then. We have to +see a thing written sometimes to know how it sounds." + +"May I wear them?" asked Janey exultingly. "May I put them on now?" + +"Yes," consented M'ri. + +Janey flew upstairs and came back wearing the adored turquoises, which +made her eyes most beautifully blue. + +"Now I can write," she affirmed, taking up her pencil with the +impetus of an incentive. Under the inspiration of the beads around her +neck, she wrote: + + "DEAR JOE: + + "I am wareing the beyewtifull beeds you sent me around my neck. + Aunt M'ri says they are terkwoyses. I never had such nice beeds + and I thank you. I wish I cood ride with you agen. Good bye. + From your frend, + + "JANEY." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +The next day being town day, David "hooked up" Old Hundred and drove +to the house. After the butter crock, egg pails, and kerosene and +gasoline cans had been piled in, Barnabas squeezed into the space +beside David. M'ri came out with a memorandum of supplies for them to +get in town. To David she handed a big bunch of spicy, pink June +roses. + +"What shall I do with them?" he asked wonderingly. + +"Give them to some one who looks as if he needed flowers," she +replied. + +"I will," declared the boy interestedly. "I will watch them all and +see how they look at the roses." + +At last M'ri had a kindred spirit in her household. Jud would have +sneered, and Janey would not have understood. To Barnabas all flowers +looked alike. + +It had come to be a custom for Barnabas to take David to town with him +at least once a week. The trip was necessarily a slow one, for from +almost every farmhouse he received a petition to "do a little errand +in town." As the good nature and accommodating tendency of Barnabas +were well known, they were accordingly imposed upon. He received +commissions of every character, from the purchase of a corn sheller to +the matching of a blue ribbon. He also stopped to pick up a child or +two en route to school or to give a lift to a weary pedestrian whom he +overtook. + +While Barnabas made his usual rounds of the groceries, meatmarket, +drug store, mill, feed store, general store, and a hotel where he was +well known, David was free to go where he liked. Usually he +accompanied Barnabas, but to-day he walked slowly up the principal +business street, watching for "one who needed flowers." Many glances +were bestowed upon the roses, some admiring, some careless, and +then--his heart almost stopped beating at the significance--Judge +Thorne came by. He, too, glanced at the roses. His gaze lingered, and +a look came into his eyes that stimulated David's passion for +romance. + +"He's remembering," he thought joyfully. + +He didn't hesitate even an instant. He stopped in front of the Judge +and extended the flowers. + +"Would you like these roses, Judge Thorne?" he asked courteously. + +Then for the first time the Judge's attention was diverted from the +flowers. + +"Your face is familiar, my lad, but--" + +"My name is David Dunne." + +"Yes, to be sure, but it must be four years or more since I last saw +you. How's your mother getting along?" + +The boy's face paled. + +"She died three weeks ago," he answered. + +"Oh, my lad," he exclaimed in shocked tones, "I didn't know! I only +returned last night from a long journey. But with whom are you +living?" + +"With Aunt M'ri and Uncle Barnabas." + +"Oh!" + +The impressive silence following this exclamation was broken by the +Judge. + +"Why do you offer me these flowers, David?" + +"Aunt M'ri picked them and told me to give them to some one who looked +as if they needed flowers." + +The Judge eyed him with the keen scrutiny of the trained lawyer, but +the boy's face was non-committal. + +"Come up into my office with me, David," commanded the Judge, turning +quickly into a near-by stairway. David followed up the stairs and into +a suite of well-appointed offices. + +A clerk looked up in surprise at the sight of the dignified judge +carrying a bouquet of old-fashioned roses and accompanied by a country +lad. + +"Good morning, Mathews. I am engaged, if any one comes." + +He preceded David into a room on whose outer door was the deterrent +word, "Private." + +While the Judge got a pitcher of water to hold the flowers David +crossed the room. On a table near the window was a rack of books +which he eagerly inspected. To his delight he saw a volume of +Andersen's Fairy Tales. Instantly the book was opened, and he was +devouring a story. + +"David," spoke the Judge from the other end of the room, "didn't these +roses grow on a bush by the west porch?" + +There was no answer. + +The Judge, remarking the boy's absorption, came to see what he was +reading. + +"Andersen's Fairy Tales! My favorite book. I didn't know that boys +liked fairy stories." + +David looked up quickly. + +"I didn't know that lawyers did, either." + +"Well, I do, David. They are my most delightful diversion." + +"Girls don't like fairy stories," mused David. "Anyway, Janey doesn't. +I have to tell true stories to please her." + +"Oh, you are a yarner, are you?" + +"Yes," admitted David modestly. "Aunt M'ri thinks I will be a writer +when I grow up, but I think I should like to be a lawyer." + +"David," asked the Judge abruptly, "did Miss Brumble tell you to give +me those roses?" + +With a wild flashing of eyes the Dunne temper awoke, and the boy's +under jaw shot forward. + +"No!" he answered fiercely. "She didn't know that I know--" + +He paused in mid-channel of such deep waters. + +"That you know what?" demanded the Judge in his cross-examining tone. + +David was doubtful of the consequences of his temerity, but he stood +his ground. + +"I can't tell you what, because I promised not to. Some one was just +thinking out loud, and I overheard." + +There was silence for a moment. + +"David, I remember your father telling me, years ago, that he had a +little son with a big imagination which his mother fed by telling +stories every night at bedtime." + +"Will you tell me," asked David earnestly, "about my father? What was +it he did? Uncle Barnabas told me something about his trouble last +Saturday." + +"How did he come to mention your father to you?" + +David reddened. + +"Jud twitted me about my mother taking in washing and about my father +being a convict, and I knocked him down. I told him I would kill him. +Uncle Barnabas pulled me off." + +"And then?" + +"Then he let us fight it out." + +"And you licked?" + +"Yes, sir," replied the boy, with proud modesty. + +"You naturally would, with that under jaw, but it's the animal in us +that makes us want to kill, and the man in us should rise above the +animal. I think I am the person to tell you about your father. He had +every reason to make good, but he was unfortunate in his choice of +associates and he acquired some of their habits. He had a violent +temper, and one night when he was--" + +"Drunk," supplied David gravely. + +"He became angry with one of his friends and tried to kill him. Your +father was given a comparatively short sentence, which he had almost +served when he died. You must guard against your temper and cultivate +patience and endurance--qualities your mother possessed." + +It suddenly and overwhelmingly flashed across David what need his +mother must have had for such traits, and he turned away to force back +his tears. The Judge saw the heaving of the slender, square, young +shoulders, and the gray eyes that were wont to look so coldly upon the +world and its people grew soft and surprisingly moist. + +"It's past now, David, and can't be helped, but you are going to aim +to be the kind of man your mother would want you to be. You must learn +to put up with Jud's tyranny because his father and his aunt are your +benefactors. I have been away the greater part of the time since your +father's death, or I should have kept track of you and your mother. +Every time you come to town I want you to come up here and report to +me. Will you?" + +"Thank you, sir. And I will bring you some more flowers." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +"Whar wuz you, Dave, all the time we wuz in town?" asked Barnabas, as +they drove homeward. + +"In Judge Thorne's office." + +"Judge Thorne's office! What fer?" + +"He asked me there, Uncle Barnabas. He was my father's lawyer once, +you know." + +"So he wuz. I hed fergot." + +"He warned me against my temper, as you did, and he told me--all about +my father." + +"I am glad he did, Dave. He wuz the one to tell you." + +"He says that every time I come to Lafferton I must come up and report +to him." + +"Wal, Dave, it does beat all how folks take to you. Thar wuz Joe +wanted you, and now Mart Thorne's interested. Mebby they could do +better by you than we could. Joe's rich, and the Jedge is well fixed +and almighty smart." + +"No," replied David stoutly. "I'd rather stay with you, Uncle +Barnabas. There's something you've got much more of than they have." + +"What's that, Dave?" asked Barnabas curiously. + +"Horse sense." + +Barnabas looked pleased. + +"Wal, Dave, I callate to do my best fer you, and thar's one thing I +want _you_ to git some horse sense about right off." + +"All right, Uncle Barnabas. What is it?" + +"Feedin' on them fairy stories all day. They hain't hullsome diet fer +a boy." + +"The Judge reads them," protested David. "He has that same book of +fairy stories that Joe gave me." + +"When you've done all the Jedge has, and git to whar you kin afford to +be idle, you kin read any stuff you want ter." + +"Can't I read them at all?" asked David in alarm. + +"Of course you kin. I meant, I didn't want you stickin' to 'em like a +pup to a root. You're goin' down to the fields to begin work with me +this arternoon, and you won't feel much like readin' to-night. I wuz +lookin' over them books of your'n last night. Thar's one you'd best +start in on right away, and give the fairies a rest." + +"Which one?" + +"Life of Lincoln. That'll show you what work will do." + +"I'll read it aloud to you, Uncle Barnabas." + +When they reached the bridge that spanned the river Old Hundred +dropped the little hurrying gait which he assumed in town, and settled +down to his normal, comfortable, country jog. + +"Uncle Barnabas," said David thoughtfully, "what is your religion?" + +Barnabas meditated. + +"Wal, Dave, I don't know as I hev what you might call religion +exackly. I b'lieve in payin' a hundred cents on the dollar, and +a-helpin' the man that's down, and--wal, I s'pose I come as nigh bein' +a Unitarian as anything." + +The distribution of the purchases now began. Sometimes the good +housewife, herself, came out to receive the parcels and to hear the +latest news from town. Oftener, the children of the household were +the messengers, for Barnabas' pockets were always well filled with +candy on town days. At one place Barnabas stopped at a barn by the +roadside and surreptitiously deposited a suspicious looking package. +When he was in front of the next farmhouse a man came out with anxious +mien. + +"All right, Fred!" hailed Barnabas with a knowing wink. "I was afeerd +you'd not be on the watchout. I left it in the manger." + +They did not reach the farm until the dinner hour, and the conversation +was maintained by M'ri and Barnabas on marketing matters. David spent +the afternoon in being initiated in field work. At supper, M'ri asked +him suddenly: + +"To whom did you give the flowers, David?" + +"I've made a story to it, Aunt M'ri, and I'm going to tell it to +Janey. Then you can hear." + +M'ri smiled, and questioned him no further. + +When the day was done and the "still hour" had come, Janey and David, +hand in hand, came around the house and sat down at her feet. It was +seldom that any one intruded at this hour, but she knew that David had +come to tell his story. + +"Begin, Davey," urged Janey impatiently. + +"One day, when a boy was going to town, his aunt gave him a big +bouquet of pink roses. She told him to give them to some one who +looked as if they needed flowers. So when the boy got to town he +walked up Main Street and looked at every one he met. He hoped to see +a little sick child or a tired woman who had no flowers of her own; +but every one seemed to be in a hurry, and very few stopped to look at +flowers or anything else. Those that did look turned away as if they +did not see them, and some seemed to be thinking, 'What beautiful +flowers!' and then forgot them. + +"At last he met a tall, stern man dressed in fine clothes. He looked +very proud, but as if he were tired of everything. When he saw the +flowers he didn't turn away, but kept his eyes on them as if they made +him sad and lonesome in thinking of good times that were over. So the +boy asked him if he would not like the flowers. The man looked +surprised and asked the boy what his name was. When he heard it, he +remembered that he had been attorney for the boy's father. He took him +up into an office marked private, and he gave the boy some good +advice, and talked to him about his mother, which made the boy feel +bad. But the man comforted him and told him that every time he came to +town he was to report to him." + +M'ri had sat motionless during the recital of this story. At its close +she did not speak. + +"That wasn't much of a story. Let's go play," suggested Janey, +relieving the tension. + +They were off like a flash. David heard his name faintly called. +M'ri's voice sounded far off, and as if there were tears in it, but he +lacked the courage to return. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Two important events calendared the next week. The school year ended +and Pennyroyal, the "hired help," who had been paying her annual visit +to her sister, came back to the farm. There are two kinds of +housekeepers, the "make-cleans" and the "keep-cleans." Pennyroyal was +a graduate of both classes. Her ruling passions in life were scrubbing +and "redding" up. On the day of her return, after making onslaught on +house and porches, she attacked the pump, and planned a sand-scouring +siege for the morrow on the barn. In appearance she was a true +exponent of soap and water, and always had the look of being freshly +laundered. + +At first Pennyroyal looked with ill favor on the addition that had +been made to the household in her absence, but when David submitted to +the shampooing of his tousled mass of hair, and offered no protest +when she scrubbed his neck, she became reconciled to his presence. + +On a "town day" David, carrying a huge bunch of pinks, paid his second +visit to the Judge. + +"Did she tell you," asked the tall man, gazing very hard at the +landscape without the open window, "to give these flowers to some one +who needed them?" + +There was a perilous little pause. Then there flashed from the boy to +the man a gaze of comprehension. + +"She picked them for you," was the response, simply spoken. + +The Judge carefully selected a blossom for his buttonhole, and then +proceeded to draw David out. Under the skillful, schooled questioning, +David grew communicative. + +"She's always on the west porch after supper." He added naively: +"That's the time when Uncle Barnabas smokes on the east porch, Jud +goes off with the boys, and I play with Janey in the lane." + +"Thank you, David," acknowledged the Judge gratefully. "You are quite +a bureau of information, and," in a consciously casual tone, "will you +take a note to your aunt? I think I will ride out to the farm +to-night." + +David's young heart fluttered, and he went back to the farm invested +with a proud feeling of having assisted the fates. The air was filled +with mystery and an undercurrent of excitement that day. After David +had delivered the auspicious note, a private conference behind closed +doors had been held between M'ri and Barnabas in the "company parlor." +David's shrewd young eyes noted the weakening of the lines of finality +about M'ri's mouth when she emerged from the interview. Throughout the +long afternoon she performed the usual tasks in nervous haste, the +color coming and going in her delicately contoured face. + +When she appeared at the supper table she was adorned in white, +brightened by touches of blue at belt and collar. David's young eyes +surveyed her appraisingly and approvingly, and later he effected a +thorough effacing of the family. He obtained from Barnabas permission +for Jud to go to town with the Gardner boys. His next diplomatic move +was to persuade Pennyroyal to go with himself and Janey to Uncle +Larimy's hermit home. When she wavered, he commented on the eclipse of +Uncle Larimy's windows the last time he saw them. That turned the tide +of Pennyroyal's resistance. Equipped with soft linen, a cake of strong +soap, and a bottle of ammonia, she strode down the lane, accompanied +by the children. + +The walk proved a trying ordeal for Pennyroyal. She started out at her +accustomed brisk gait, but David loitered and sauntered, Janey of +course setting her pace by his. Pennyroyal, feeling it incumbent upon +herself to keep watch of her young companions, retraced her steps so +often that she covered the distance several times. + +At Uncle Larimy's she found such a fertile field for her line of work +that David was quite ready to return when she pronounced her labors +finished. She was really tired, and quite willing to walk home slowly +in the moonlight. + +It was very quiet. Here and there a bird, startled from its hiding +place, sought refuge in the higher branches. A pensive quail piped an +answer to the trilling call from the meadows. A tree toad uttered his +lonely, guttural exclamation. The air, freshening with a coming covey +of clouds, swayed the tops of the trees with mournful sound. + +David, full of dreams, let his fancy have full play, and he made a +little story of his own about the meeting of the lovers. He pictured +the Judge riding down the dust-white road as the sunset shadows grew +long. He knew the exact spot--the last bit of woodland--from where +Martin, across level-lying fields, could obtain his first glimpse of +the old farmhouse and porch. His moving-picture conceit next placed +M'ri, dressed in white, with touches of blue, on the west porch. He +had decided that in the Long Ago Days she had been wont to wear blue, +which he imagined to be the Judge's favorite color. Then he caused the +unimpressionable Judge to tie his horse to the hitching post at the +side of the road and walk between the hedges of sweet peas that +bordered the path. Their pink and white sweetness was the trumpet +call sounding over the grave of the love of his youth. (David had read +such a passage in a book at Miss Rhody's and thought it very fine and +applicable.) His active fancy took Martin Thorne around the house to +the west porch. The white figure arose, and in the purple-misted +twilight he saw the touches of blue, and his heart lighted. + +"Marie!" + +The old name, the name he had given her in his love-making days, came +to his lips. (David couldn't make M'ri fit in with the settings of his +story, so he re-christened her.) She came forward with outstretched +hand and a gentle manner, but at the look in his eyes as he uttered +the old name, with the caressing accent on the first syllable, she +understood. A deep sunrise color flooded her face and neck. + +"Martin!" she whispered as she came to him. + +David threw back his head and shut his eyes in ecstatic bliss. He was +rudely roused from his romantic weaving by the sound of Barnabas' +chuckle as they came to the east porch. + +"You must a washed every one of Larimy's winders!" + +"Yes," replied Janey, "and she mopped his floors, washed and +clean-papered the shelves, and wanted to scrub the old gray horse." + +"Pennyroyal," exclaimed Barnabas gravely, "I wonder you ain't +waterlogged!" + +"Pennyroyal'd rather be clean than be President," averred David. + +"Where's M'ri?" demanded Pennyroyal, ignoring these thrusts. + +"On the west porch, entertaining company," remarked Barnabas. + +"Who?" + +Pennyroyal never used a superfluous word. Joe Forbes said she talked +like telegrams. + +Barnabas removed his pipe from his mouth, and paused to give his words +greater dramatic force. + +"Mart Thorne!" + +The effect was satisfactory. + +Pennyroyal stood as if petrified for a moment. Than she expressed her +feelings. + +"Hallelujah!" + +Her tone made the exclamation as impressive as a benediction. + +M'ri visited the bedside of each of her charges that night. Jud and +Janey were in the land of dreams, but David was awake, expecting her +coming. There was a new tenderness in her good-night kiss. + +"Aunt M'ri," asked the boy, looking up with his deep, searching eyes +and a suspicion of a smile about his lips, "did you and Judge Thorne +talk over my education? He said that he was going to speak to you +about it." + +Her eyes sparkled. + +"David, the Judge is coming to dinner Sunday. We will talk it over +with you then." + +"Aunt M'ri," a little note of wistfulness chasing the bantering look +from his eyes, "you aren't going to leave us now?" + +"Not for a year, David," she said, a soft flush coming to her face. + +"He's waited seven," thought David, "so one more won't make so much +difference. Anyway, we need a year to get used to it." + +After all, David was only a boy. His flights of romantic fancy +vanished in remembrance of the blissful certainty that there would be +ice cream for dinner on Sunday next and on many Sundays thereafter. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +The little trickle of uneven days was broken one morning by a message +which was brought by the "hired man from Randall's." + +"We've got visitors from the city tew our house," he announced. "They +want you to send Janey over tew play with their little gal." + +Befitting the honor of the occasion, Janey was attired in her +blue-sprigged muslin and allowed to wear the turquoises. David drove +her to Maplewood, the pretentious home of the Randalls, intending to +call for her later. When they came to the entrance of the grounds at +the end of a long avenue of maples a very tiny girl, immaculate in +white, with hair of gold and eyes darkly blue, came out from among the +trees. She regarded David with deep, grave eyes as he stepped from the +wagon to open the gate. + +"You've come to play with me," she stated in a tone of assurance. + +"I've brought Janey to play with you," he rejoined, indicating his +little companion. "If you'll get in the wagon, I'll drive you up to +the house." + +She held up her slender little arms to him, and David felt as if he +were lifting a doll. + +"My name in Carey Winthrop. What is yours?" she demanded of Janey as +they all rode up the shaded, graveled road. + +"Janey Brumble," replied the visitor, gaining ease from the +ingenuousness of the little girl and from the knowledge that she was +older than her hostess. + +"And he's your brother?" indicating David. + +"He's my adopted brother," said Janey; "he's David Dunne." + +"I wish I had a 'dopted brother," sighed the little girl, eying David +wistfully. + +David drove up to the side entrance of the large, white-columned, +porticoed house, on the spacious veranda of which sat a fair-haired +young woman with luminous eyes and smiling mouth. The smile deepened +as she saw the curiously disfigured horse ambling up to the stone +step. + +"Whoa, Old Hundred!" commanded David, whereupon the smile became a +rippling laugh. David got out, lifted the little girl to the ground +very carefully, and gave a helping hand to the nimble, independent +Janey. + +"Mother," cried Carey delightedly, "this is Janey and her 'dopted +brother David." + +David touched his cap gravely in acknowledgment of the introduction. +He had never heard his name pronounced as this little girl spoke it, +with the soft "a." It sounded very sweet to him. + +"I'll drive back for you before sundown, Janey," said David, preparing +to climb into the wagon. + +"No," objected Carey, regarding him with apprehension, "I want you to +stay and play with me. Tell him to stay, mother." + +There was a regal carriage to the little head and an imperious +note--the note of an only child--in her voice. + +"Maybe David has other things to do than to play with little girls," +said her mother, "but, David, if you can stay, I wish you would." + +"I should like to stay," replied David earnestly, "but they expect me +back, and Old Hundred is needed in the field." + +"Luke can drive your horse back, and we will see that you and Janey +ride home." + +So Carey, with a hand to each of her new playmates, led them across +the driveway to the rolling stretch of shaded lawn. The lady watched +David as he submitted to be driven as a horse by the little girls and +then constituted himself driver to his little team of ponies as he +called them. Later, when they raced to the meadow, she saw him hold +Janey back that Carey might win. Presently the lady was joined by her +husband. + +"Where is Carey?" he asked. + +"She is having great sport with a pretty little girl and a guardian +angel of a boy. Here they come!" + +They were trooping across the lawn, the little girls adorned with +blossom wreaths which David had woven for them. + +"May we go down to the woods--the big woods?" asked Carey. + +"It's too far for you to walk, dear," remonstrated her mother. + +"David says he'll draw me in my little cart." + +"Who is it that was afraid to go into the big woods, and thought it +was a forest filled with wild beasts and scary things?" demanded Mr. +Winthrop. + +The earnest eyes fixed on his were not at all abashed. + +"With him, with David," she said simply, "I would have no afraidments." + +"Afraidments?" he repeated perplexedly. "I am not sure I understand." + +"Don't tease, Arthur; it's a very good word," interposed Mrs. Winthrop +quickly. "It seems to have a different meaning from fear." + +"Come up here, David," bade Mr. Winthrop, "and let me see what there +is in you to inspire one with no 'afraidments'." + +The boy came up on the steps, and did not falter under the keen but +good-humored gaze. + +"Do you like to play with little girls, David?" + +"I like to play with these little girls," admitted David. + +"And what do you like to do besides that?" + +"I like to shoot." + +"Oh, a hunter?" + +"No; I like to shoot at a mark." + +"And what else?" + +"I like to read, and fish, and swim, and--" + +"Eat ice cream!" finished Janey roguishly, showing her dimples. + +The man caught her up in his arms. + +"You are a darling, and I wish my little girl had such rosy cheeks. +David, can you show me where there is good fishing?" + +"Uncle Larimy can show you the best places. He knows where the bass +live, and how to coax them to bite." + +"And will you take me to this wonderful person to-morrow?" + +"Yes, sir." + +Carey now came out of the hall with her cart, and David drew her +across the lawn, Janey dancing by his side. Down through the meadows +wound a wheel-tracked road leading to a patch of dense woods which, to +a little girl with a big imagination, could easily become a wild +forest infested with all sorts of nameless terrors--terrors that make +one draw the bedclothes snugly over the head at night. She gave a +little frightened cry as they came into the cool, olive depths. + +"I am afraid, David. Take me!" + +He lifted her to his shoulder, and her soft cheek nestled against his +face. + +"Now you are not afraid," he said persuasively. + +"No; but I would be if you put me down." + +They went farther into the oak depths, until they came to a fallen +tree where they rested. Janey, investigating the forestry, finally +discovered a bush with slender red twigs. + +"Oh," she cried, "now David will show you what beautiful things he can +make for us." + +"I have no pins," demurred David. + +"I have," triumphantly producing a paper of the needful from her +pocket. "I always carry them now." + +David broke up the long twigs into short pieces, from which he +skillfully fashioned little chairs and tables, discoursing the while +to Carey on the beauty and safety of the woods. Finally Carey +acquired courage to hunt for wild flowers, though her hand remained +close in David's clasp. + +When they returned to the house Carey gave a glowing account of the +expedition. + +"Sit down on the steps and rest, children," proposed Mrs. Winthrop, +"while Lucy prepares a little picnic dinner for you." + +"What will we do now, David?" appealed Carey, when they were seated on +the porch. + +"You mustn't do anything but sit still," admonished her mother. +"You've done more now than you are used to doing in one day." + +"Davey will tell us a story," suggested Janey. + +"Yes, please, David," urged Carey, coming to him and resting her eyes +on his inquiringly, while her little hand confidently sought his knee. +Instinctively and naturally his fingers closed upon it. + +Embarrassed as he was at having a strange audience, he could not +resist the child's appeal. + +"She'll like the kind that you don't," he said musingly to Janey, "the +kind about fairies and princes." + +"Yes," rejoined Carey. + +So he fashioned a tale, partly from recollections of Andersen but +mostly from his own fancy. As his imagination kindled, he forgot where +he was. Inspired by the spellbound interest of the dainty little girl +with the worshiping eyes, he achieved his masterpiece. + +"Upon my word," exclaimed Mr. Winthrop, "you are a veritable +Scheherazade! You didn't make up that story yourself?" + +"Only part of it," admitted David modestly. + +When he and Janey started for home David politely delivered M'ri's +message of invitation for Carey to come to the farm on the morrow to +play. + +"It is going to be lovely here," said the little girl happily. "And we +are going to come every summer." + +Janey kissed her impulsively. "Good-by, Carey." + +"Good-by, Janey. Good-by, David." + +"Good-by," he returned cheerily. Looking back, he saw her lips +trembling. His gaze turned in perplexity to Mrs. Winthrop, whose eyes +were dancing. "She expects you to bid her good-by the way Janey did," +she explained. + +"Oh!" said David, reddening, as two baby lips of scarlet were lifted +naturally and expectantly to his. + +As they drove away, the light feet of the horse making but little +sound on the smooth road, Mrs. Winthrop's clear treble was wafted +after them. + +"One can scarcely believe that his father was a convict and his mother +a washerwoman." + +A lump came into the boy's throat. Janey was very quiet on the way +home. When they were alone she said to him, with troubled eyes: + +"Davey, is Carey going to be your sweetheart?" + +His laugh was reassuring. + +"Why, Janey, I am just twice her age." + +"She is like a little doll, isn't she, David?" + +"No; like a little princess." + +The next morning Little Teacher came to show them her present from +Joe. + +"I am sure he chose a camera so I could take your pictures to send to +him," she declared. + +"Miss Rhody wants her picture taken in the black silk Joe gave her. If +you will take it, she won't have to spend the money he sent her," said +the thoughtful David. + +Little Teacher was very enthusiastic over this proposition, and +offered to accompany him at once to secure the picture. Miss Rhody was +greatly excited over the event. Ever since the dress had been finished +she had been a devotee at the shrine of two hooks in her closet from +which was suspended the long-coveted garment, waiting for an occasion +that would warrant its debut. She nervously dressed for the +"likeness," for which she assumed her primmest pose. A week later +David sent Joe a picture of Miss Rhody standing stiff and straight on +her back porch and arrayed, with all the glory of the lilies of the +field, in her new silk. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +When the hot, close-cropped fields took on their first suggestion +of autumn and a fuller note was heard in the requiem of the +songbirds, when the twilights were of purple and the morning skies +delicately mackereled in gray, David entered the little, red, country +schoolhouse. M'ri's tutelage and his sedulous application to Jud's +schoolbooks saved him from the ignominy of being classified with the +younger children. + +When he sat down to the ink-stained, pen-scratched desk that was to be +his own, when he made compact piles of his new books and placed in the +little groove in front of the inkwell his pen, pencils, and ruler, he +turned to Little Teacher such a glowing face of ecstasy that she was +quite inspired, and her sympathies and energies were at once enlisted +in the cause of David's education. + +It was the beginning of a new world for him. He studied with a +concentration that made him oblivious to all that occurred about him, +and he had to be reminded of calls to recitations by an individual +summons. He fairly overwhelmed Little Teacher by his voracity for +learning and a perseverance that vanquished all obstacles. He soon +outstripped his class, and finally his young instructress was forced +to bring forth her own textbooks to satisfy his avidity. He devoured +them all speedily, and she then applied to the Judge for fuel from his +library to feed her young furnace. + +"He takes to learning as naturally as bees to blossoms," she +reported. + +"He must ease off," warned Barnabas. "Young hickory needs plenty of +room for full growth." + +"No," disagreed the Judge, "young hickory is as strong as wrought +iron. He's going to have a clear, keen mind to argue law cases." + +"I think not," said M'ri. "You forget another quality of young +hickory. No other wood burns with such brilliancy. David is going to +be an author." + +"I am afraid," wrote Joe, "that Dave won't be a first-class ranchman. +He must be plum locoed with dreams." + +This prognostication reached David's ears. + +"Without dreams," he argued to Barnabas, "one would be like the +pigs." + +"Wal, now, Dave, mebby pigs dream. They sartain sleep a hull lot." + +David laughed appreciatively. + +"Dave," pursued Barnabas, "they're all figgerin' on your futur, and +they're a-figgerin' wrong. Joe thinks you'll take to ranchin'. You +may--fer a spell. M'ri thinks you may write books. You may do even +that--fer a spell. The Jedge counts on yer takin' to the law like a +duck does to water. You may, but law larnin', cow punchin', and story +writin' 'll jest be steppin' stuns to what I know you air goin' ter +be, and what I know is in you ter be." + +"What in the world is that, Uncle Barnabas?" asked David in surprise. +"A farmer?" + +"Farmer, nuthin'!" scoffed Barnabas. "Yer hain't much on farmin', +Dave, though I will say yer furrers is allers straight, like +everythin' else you do. Yer straight yerself. No! young hickory can +bend without breakin', and thar's jest one thing I want fer you to +be." + +"What?" persisted the boy. + +Barnabas whispered something. + +The blood of the young country boy went like wine through his veins; +his heart leaped with a big and mighty purpose. + +"Now, remember, Dave," cautioned Barnabas, "what all work and no play +done to Jack. You git yer lessons perfect, and recite them, and read a +leetle of an evenin'; the rest of the time I want yer to get out and +cerkilate." + +November with its call to quiet woods came on, and David was eager to +"cerkilate." He became animated with the spirit of sport. Red-letter +Saturdays were spent with Uncle Larimy, and the far-away echo of the +hunter's bullet and the scudding through the woods of startled game +became new, sweet music to his ears. Rifle in hand, with dog shuffling +at his heels or plunging ahead in search of game, the world was his. +Life was very full and happy, save for the one inevitable sprig of +bitter--Jud! The big bully of a boy had learned that David was his +equal physically and his superior mentally, but the fear of David and +of David's good standing kept him from venturing out in the open; so +from cover he sought by all the arts known to craftiness to harass the +younger boy, whose patience this test tried most sorely. + +One day when Little Teacher had given him a verbose definition of the +word "pestiferous," David looked at her comprehendingly. "Like Jud," +he murmured. + +Many a time his young arms ached to give Jud another thrashing, but +his mother's parting injunction restrained him. + +"If only," he sighed, "Jud belonged to some one else!" + +He vainly sought to find the hair line that divided his sense of +gratitude and his protection of self-respect. + +Winter followed, and the farm work droned. It was a comfortable, cozy +time, with breakfast served in the kitchen on a table spread with a +gay, red cloth. Pennyroyal baked griddle-sized cakes, delivering them +one at a time direct from the stove to the consumer. The early hour +of lamplight made long evenings, which were beguiled by lesson books +and story-books, by an occasional skating carnival on the river, a +coasting party at Long Hill, or a "surprise" on some hospitable +neighbor. + +One morning he came into school with face and eyes aglow with +something more than the mere delight of living. It meant mischief, +pure and simple, but Little Teacher was not always discerning. She +gave him a welcoming smile of sheer sympathy with his mood. She didn't +smile, later, when the schoolroom was distracted by the sound of +raucous laughter, feminine screams, and a fluttering of skirts as the +girls scrambled to standing posture in their chairs. Astonished, she +looked for the cause. The cause came her way, and the pupils had a +fresh example of the miracles wrought by a mouse, for Little Teacher, +usually the personification of dignity and repose, screamed lustily +and scudded chairward with as much rapidity as that displayed by the +scurrying mouse as it chased for the corner and disappeared through a +knothole. + +As soon as the noiseful glee had subsided, Little Teacher sought to +recover her prided self-possession. In a voice resonant with +sternness, she commanded silence, gazing wrathfully by chance at +little Tim Wiggins. + +"'T was David done it," he said in deprecating self-defense, imagining +himself accused. + +"David Dunne," demanded Little Teacher, "did you bring that mouse to +school?" + +"He brung it and let it out on purpose," informed Tim eagerly. + +Little Teacher never encouraged talebearing, but she was so +discomfited by the exposure of the ruling weakness peculiar to her +sex that she decided to discipline her favorite pupil upon his +acknowledgment of guilt. + +"You may bring your books and sit on the platform," she ordered +indignantly. + +David did not in the least mind his assignment to so prominent a +position, but he did mind Little Teacher's attitude toward him +throughout the day. He sought to propitiate her by coming to her +assistance in many little tasks, but she persistently ignored his +overtures. He then ventured to seek enlightenment regarding his +studies, but she coldly informed him he could remain after school to +ask his questions. + +David began to feel troubled, and looked out of the window for +an inspiration. He found one in the form of big, brawny, Jim +Block--"Teacher's Jim," as the school children all called him. + +"There goes Teacher's Jim," sang David, _soto voce_. + +The shot told. For the second time that day Little Teacher showed +outward and visible signs of an inward disturbance. With a blush she +turned quickly to the window and watched with expressive eyes the +stalwart figure striding over the rough-frozen road. + +In an instant, however, she had recalled herself to earth, and David's +dancing eyes renewed her hostility toward him. Toward the end of the +day she began to feel somewhat appeased by his docility and evident +repentance. Her manner had perceptibly changed by the time the closing +exercise began. This was the writing of words on the blackboard for +the pupils to use in sentences. She pointed to the first word, +"income." + +"Who can make a sentence and use that word correctly?" she asked. + +"Do call on Tim," whispered David. "He so loves to be the first to +tell anything." + +She smiled her appreciation of Tim's prominent characteristic, and +looked at the youngster, who was wringing his hand in an agony of +eagerness. She gave him the floor, and he jumped to his feet in +triumph, yelling: + +"In come a mouse!" + +This was too much for David's composure, and he gave way to an +infectious fit of laughter, in which the pupils joined. + +Little Teacher found the allusion personal and uncomfortable. She at +once assumed her former distant mien, demanding David's presence after +school closed. + +"You have no gratitude, David," she stated emphatically. + +The boy winced, and his eyes darkened with concern, as he remembered +his mother's parting injunction. + +Little Teacher softened slightly. + +"You are sorry, aren't you, David?" she asked gently. + +He looked at her meditatively. + +"No, Teacher," he answered quietly. + +She flushed angrily. + +"David Dunne, you may go home, and you needn't come back to school +again until you tell me you are sorry." + +David took his books and walked serenely from the room. He went home +by the way of Jim Block's farm. + +"Hullo, Dave!" called Big Jim, who was in the barnyard. + +"Hello, Jim! I came to tell you some good news. You said if you were +only sure there was something Teacher was afraid of, you wouldn't feel +so scared of her." + +"Well," prompted Jim eagerly. + +"I thought I'd find out for you, so I took a mouse to school and let +it loose." + +"Gee!" + +David then related the occurrences of the morning, not omitting the +look in Little Teacher's eyes when she beheld Jim from the window. + +"I'll hook up this very night and go to see her," confided Jim. + +"Be sure you do, Jim. If you find your courage slipping, just remember +that you owe it to me, because she won't let me come back to school +unless she knows why I wasn't sorry." + +"I give you my word, Dave," said Jim earnestly. + +The next morning Little Teacher stopped at the Brumble farm. + +"I came this way to walk to school with you and Janey," she said +sweetly and significantly to David. + +When they reached the road, and Janey had gone back to get her sled, +Little Teacher looked up and caught the amused twinkle in David's eye. +A wave of conscious red overspread her cheeks. + +"Must I say I am sorry now?" he asked. + +"David Dunne, there are things you understand which you never learned +from books." + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +Late spring brought preparations for M'ri's wedding. Rhody Crabbe's +needle and fingers flew in rapturous speed, and there was likewise +engaged a seamstress from Lafferton. Rhody had begged for the making +of the wedding gown, and when it was finished David went to fetch it +home. + +"It's almost done, David, and you tell M'ri the last stitch was a +loveknot. It's most a year sence you wuz here afore, a-waitin' fer her +blue waist tew be finished. Remember, don't you, David?" + +He remembered, and as she stitched he sat silently reviewing that +year, the comforts received, the pleasures pursued, and, best of all, +the many things he had learned, but the recollection that a year ago +his mother had been living brought a rush of sad memories and blotted +out happier thoughts. + +"I wish yer ma could hev seen Mart and M'ri merried. She was orful +disapp'inted when they broke off." + +There was no reply. Rhody's sharp little eyes, in upward glance, spied +the trickling tear; she looked quickly away and stitched in furious +haste. + +"But, my!" she continued, as if there had been no pause, "how glad she +would be to know 't was you as fetched it around." + +David looked up, diverted and inquiring. + +"Yes; I learnt it from M'ri. She told me about the flowers you give +him. I thought it was jest sweet in you, David. You done good work +thar." + +"Miss Rhody," said David earnestly, "maybe some day I can get you a +sweetheart." + +"'T ain't no use, David," she sighed. "No one wants a plain critter +like me." + +"Lots of them don't marry for looks," argued David sagely. "Besides, +you look fine in your black silk, and your hair crimped. Joe thinks +your picture is great. He's got it on a shelf over his fireplace at +the ranch." + +"Most likely some cowboy'll see it and lose his heart," laughed Miss +Rhody, "but thar, the weddin' dress is all done. You go home and quit +thinkin' about gittin' me a man. I ain't ha'nted by the thought of +endin' single." + +Great preparations for the wedding progressed at the Brumble farm. For +a week Pennyroyal whipped up eggs and sugar, and David ransacked the +woods for evergreens and berries with which to decorate the big barn, +where the dance after the wedding was to take place. + +The old farmhouse was filled to overflowing on the night of the +wedding. After the ceremony, Miss Rhody, resplendent in the black silk +and waving hair loosed from the crimping pins that had confined it for +two days and nights, came up to David. + +"My, David, I've got the funniest all over feelin' from seein' Mart +and M'ri merried! I was orful afeerd I'd cry." + +"Sit down, Miss Rhody," said David, gallantly bringing her a chair. + +"Didn't M'ri look perfeckly beyewtiful?" she continued, after +accomplishing the pirouette that prevented creases. "And Mart, he +looked that proud, and solemn too. It made me think of that gal when +she spoke 'Curfew shall not ring tewnight' at the schoolhouse. Every +one looks fine. I hain't seen Barnabas so fussed up sence Libby Sukes' +funyral. It makes him look real spry. And whoever got Larimer Sasser +to perk up and put on a starched shirt!" + +"I think," confided David, "that Penny got after him. She had him in a +corner when he came, and she tied his necktie so tight I was afraid +she would choke him." + +"Look at old Miss Pankey, David. She, as rich as they make 'em, and +a-wearin' that old silk! It looks as ef it hed bin hung up fer you and +Jud to shoot at. Ain't she a-glarin' and a-sniffin' at me, though? +Say, David, you write Joe that if M'ri did look the purtiest of any +one that my dress cost more'n any one's here, and showed it, too. I +hope thar'll be a lot of occasions to wear it to this summer. M'ri is +a-goin' to give a reception when she gits back from her tower, and +that'll be one thing to wear it at. Ain't Jud got a mean look? He's as +crooked as a dog's hind leg. But, say, David, that's a fine suit +you're a-wearin'. You look handsome. Thar ain't a stingy hair on +Barnabas' head. He's doin' jest as good by you as he is by Jud. Don't +little Janey look like an angel in white, and them lovely beads Joe +give her? I can't think of nothin' else but that little Eva you read +me about. I shouldn't wonder a bit, David, if I come to yer and +Janey's weddin' yet!" she said, as Janey came dancing up to them. + +A slow flush mounted to his forehead, but Janey laughed merrily. + +"I've promised Joe I'd wait for him," she said roguishly. + +"She's only foolin' and so wuz he," quickly spoke Miss Rhody, seeing +the hurt look in David's eyes. "Barnabas," she asked, stopping him as +he passed, "you air a-goin' to miss M'ri turrible. You could never +manige if it wa'n't fer Penny. Won't she hev the time of her life +cleanin' up after this weddin'? She'll enjoy it more'n she did gettin' +ready fer it." + +"I hope Penny won't go to gittin' merried--not till Janey's growed +up." + +"David's a great help to you, too, Barnabas." + +"Dave! I don't know how I ever got along afore he came. He's so +willin' and so honest. He's as good as gold. Only fault he's got is a +quick temper. He's doin' purty fair with it, though. If only Jud--" + +He stopped, with a sigh, and Rhody hastened to change the subject. + +"You're a-lookin' spry to-night, Barnabas. I hain't seen you look so +spruce in a long time." + +"You look mighty tasty yerself, Rhody." + +This interchange of compliments was interrupted by the announcement of +supper. + +"I never set down to sech a repast," thought Miss Rhody. "I'm glad I +didn't feed much to-day. I don't know whether to take chickin twice, +or to try all them meltin', flaky lookin' pies. And jest see them +layer cakes!" + +After supper adjournment was made to the barn, where the fiddles were +already swinging madly. Every one caught the spirit, and even Miss +Rhody finally succumbed to Barnabas' insistence. Pennyroyal captured +Uncle Larimy, and when Janey whirled away in the arms of a +schoolmate, David, who had never learned to dance, stood isolated. He +felt lonely and depressed, and recalled the expression in which Joe +Forbes had explained life after he had acquired a stepmother. "I was +always on the edge of the fireside," he had said. + +"Dave," expostulated Uncle Barnabas, as soon as he could get his +breath after the last dance, "you'd better eddicate yer heels as well +as yer head. It's unnateral fer a colt and a boy not to kick up their +heels. You don't never want to be a looker-on at nuthin' excep' from +ch'ice. You'd orter be a stand-in on everything that's a-goin' instead +of a stand-by. The stand-bys never git nowhar." + + + + +PART TWO + +CHAPTER I + + +David Dunne at eighteen was graduated from the high school in +Lafferton after five colorless years in which study and farm work +alternated. Throughout this period he had continued to incur the +rancor of Jud, whose youthful scrapes had gradually developed into +brawls and carousals. The Judge periodically extricated him from +serious entanglements, and Barnabas continued optimistic in his +expectations of a time when Jud should "settle." On one occasion Jud +sneeringly accused David of "working the old man for a share in the +farm," and taunted him with the fact that he was big enough and strong +enough to hustle for himself without living on charity. David started +on a tramp through the woods to face the old issue and decide his +fate. He had then one more year before he could finish school and +carry out a long-cherished dream of college. + +He was at a loss to know just where to turn at the present time for a +home where he could work for his board and attend school. The Judge +and M'ri had gone abroad; Joe was on his ranch; the farmers needed no +additional help. + +He had been walking swiftly in unison with his thoughts, and when he +came out of the woods into the open he was only a mile downstream from +town. Upon the river bank stood Uncle Larimy, skillfully swirling his +line. + +"Wanter try yer luck, Dave?" + +"I have no luck just now, Uncle Larimy," replied the boy sadly. + +Uncle Larimy shot him a quick, sidelong glance. + +"Then move on, Dave, and chase arter it. Thar's allers luck somewhar. +Jest like fishin'. You can't set in one spot and wait for luck tew +come to you like old Zeke Foss does. You must keep a-castin'." + +"I don't know where to cast, Uncle Larimy." + +Uncle Larimy pondered. He knew that Jud was home, and he divined +David's trend of thought. + +"You can't stick to a plank allers, Dave, ef you wanter amount tew +anything. Strike out bold, and swim without any life presarvers. You +might jest as well be a sleepy old cat in a corner as to go +smoothsailin' through life." + +"I feel that I have got to strike out, and at once, Uncle Larimy, but +I don't just know where to strike." + +"Wal, Dave, it's what we've all got to find out fer ourselves. It's a +leap in the dark like, and ef you don't land nowhere, take another +leap, and keep a-goin' somewhar." + +David wended his way homeward, pondering over Uncle Larimy's +philosophy. When he went with Barnabas to do the milking that night he +broached the subject of leaving the farm. + +"I know how Jud feels about my being here, Uncle Barnabas." + +"What did he say to you?" asked the old man anxiously. + +"Nothing. I overheard a part of your conversation. He is right. And if +I stay here, he will run away to sea. He told the fellows in Lafferton +he would." + +"You are going to stay, Dave." + +"You won't like to think you drove your son away. If he gets into +trouble, both you and I will feel we are to blame." + +"Dave, I see why the Jedge hez got it all cut out fer you to be a +lawyer. You've got the argyin' habit strong. But you can't argue me +into what I see is wrong. This is the place fer you to be, and Jud 'll +hev to come outen his spell." + +"Then let me go away until he does. You must give him every chance." + +"Where'll you go?" asked Barnabas curiously. + +"I don't know, yet," said the boy, "but I'll think out a plan +to-night." + +It was Jud, after all, who cut the Gordian knot, and made one of his +welcome disappearances, which lasted until David was ready to start in +college. His savings, that he had accumulated by field work in the +summers and a very successful poultry business for six years, netted +him four hundred dollars. + +"One hundred dollars for each year," he thought exultantly. "That +will be ample with the work I shall find to do." + +Then he made known to his friends his long-cherished scheme of working +his way through college. The Judge laughed. + +"Your four hundred dollars, David, will barely get you through the +first year. After that, I shall gladly pay your expenses, for as soon +as you are admitted to the bar you are to come into my office, of +course." + +David demurred. + +"I shall work my way through college," he said firmly. + +He next told Barnabas of his intention and the Judge's offer which he +had declined. + +"I'm glad you refused, Dave. You'll only be in his office till you're +ripe fer what I kin make you. I've larnt that the law is a good +foundation as a sure steppin' stone tew it, so you kin hev a taste of +it. But the Jedge ain't a-goin' to pay yer expenses." + +"I don't mean that he shall," replied David. "I want to pay my own +way." + +"I'm a-goin' to send you tew college and send you right. No starvin' +and garret plan fer you. I've let Joe and the Jedge do fer you as much +as they're a-goin' to, but you're mine from now on. It's what I'd do +fer my own son if he cared fer books, and you're as near to me ez ef +you were my son." + +"It's too much, Uncle Barnabas." + +"And, David," he continued, unheeding the interruption, "I hope you'll +really be my son some day." + +A look of such exquisite happiness came into the young eyes that +Barnabas put out his hand silently. In the firm hand-clasp they both +understood. + +"I am not going to let you help me through college, though, Uncle +Barnabas. It has always been my dream to earn my own education. When +you pay for anything yourself, it seems so much more your own than +when it's a gift." + +"Let him, Barnabas," again counseled Uncle Larimy. "Folks must feed +diff'rent. Thar's the sweet-fed which must allers hev sugar, but +salt's the savor for Dave. He's the kind that flourishes best in the +shade." + +Janey wrote to Joe of David's plan, and there promptly came a check +for one thousand dollars, which David as promptly returned. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +A few days before the time set for his departure David set out on a +round of farewell visits to the country folk. It was one of those +cold, cheerless days that intervene between the first haze of autumn +and the golden glow of October. He had never before realized how +lonely the shiver of wind through the poplars could sound. Two +innovations had been made that day in the country. The rural delivery +carrier, in his little house on wheels, had made his first delivery, +and a track for the new electric-car line was laid through the sheep +meadow. This inroad of progress upon the sanctity of their seclusion +seemed sacrilegious to David, who longed to have lived in the olden +time of log houses, with their picturesque open fires and candle +lights. Following some vague inward call, he went out of his way to +ride past the tiny house he had once called home, and which in all his +ramblings he had steadfastly avoided. He had heard that the place had +passed into the hands of a widow with an only son, and that they had +purchased surrounding land for cultivation. He had been glad to hear +this, and had liked to fancy the son caring for his mother as he +himself would have cared for his mother had she lived. + +As he neared the little nutshell of a house his heart beat fast at the +sight of a woman pinning clothes to the line. Her fingers, stiff and +swollen, moved slowly. The same instinct that had guided him down this +road made him dismount and tie his horse. The old woman came slowly +down the little path to meet him. + +"I am David Dunne," he said gently, "and I used to live here. I wanted +to come to see my old home once more." + +He thought that the dim eyes gazing into his were the saddest he had +ever beheld. + +"Yes," she replied, with the slow, German accent, "I know of you. Come +in." + +He followed her into the little sitting room, which was as barren of +furnishings as it had been in the olden days. + +"Sit down," she invited. + +He took a chair opposite a cheap picture of a youth in uniform. A flag +of coarse material was pinned above this portrait, and underneath was +a roughly carved bracket on which was a glass filled with goldenrod. + +"You lived here with your mother," she said musingly, "and she was +taken. I lived here with my son, and--he was taken." + +"Oh!" said David. "I did not know--was he--" + +His eyes sought the picture on the wall. + +"Yes," she replied, answering his unspoken question, as she lifted her +eyes to her little shrine, "he enlisted and went to the Philippines. +He died there of fever more than a year ago." + +David was silent. His brown, boyish hand shaded his eyes. It had been +his fault that he had not heard of this old woman and the loss of her +son. He had shrunk from all knowledge and mention of this little home +and its inmates. The country folk had recognized and respected his +reticence, which to people near the soil seems natural. This had been +the only issue in his life that he had dodged, and he was bitterly +repenting his negligence. In memory of his mother, he should have +helped the lonely old woman. + +"You were left a poor, helpless boy," she continued, "and I am left a +poor, helpless old woman. The very young and the very old meet in +their helplessness, yet there is hope for the one--nothing for the +other." + +"Yes, memories," he suggested softly, "and the pride you feel in his +having died as he did." + +"There is that," she acknowledged with a sigh, "and if only I could +live on here in this little place where we have been so happy! But I +must leave it." + +"Why?" asked David quickly. + +"After my Carl died, things began to happen. When once they do that, +there is no stopping. The bank at the Corners failed, and I lost my +savings. The turkeys wandered away, the cow died, and now there's the +mortgage. It's due to-morrow, and then--the man that holds it will +wait no longer. So it is the poorhouse, which I have always +dreaded." + +David's head lifted, and his eyes shone radiantly as he looked into +the tired, hopeless eyes. + +"Your mortgage will be paid to-morrow, and--Don't you draw a pension +for your son?" + +She looked at him in a dazed way. + +"No, there is no pension--I--" + +"Judge Thorne will get you one," he said optimistically, as he rose, +ready for action, "and how much is the mortgage?" + +"Three hundred dollars," she said despairingly. + +"Almost as much as the place is worth. Who holds the mortgage?" + +"Deacon Prickley." + +"You see," said David, trying to speak casually, "I have three hundred +dollars lying idle for which I have no use. I'll ride to town now and +have the Judge see that the place is clear to you, and he will get you +a pension, twelve dollars a month." + +The worn, seamed face lifted to his was transfigured by its look of +beatitude. + +"You mustn't," she implored. "I didn't know about the pension. That +will keep me, and I can find another little place somewhere. But the +money you offer--no! I have heard how you have been saving to go +through school." + +He smiled. + +"Uncle Barnabas and the Judge are anxious to pay my expenses at +college, and--you _must_ let me. I would like to think, don't you see, +that you are living here in my old home. It will seem to me as if I +were doing it for _my_ mother--as I would want some boy to do for her +if she were left--and it's my country's service he died in. I would +rather buy this little place for you, and know that you are living +here, than to buy anything else in the world." + +The old face was quite beautiful now. + +"Then I will let you," she said tremulously. "You see, I am a +hard-working woman and quite strong, but folks won't believe that, +because I am old; so they won't hire me to do their work, and they say +I should go to the poorhouse. But to old folks there's nothing like +having your own things and your own ways. They get to be a part of +you. I was thinking when you rode up that it would kill me not to see +the frost on the old poplar, and not to cover up my geraniums on the +chill nights." + +Something stirred in David's heart like pain. He stooped and kissed +her gently. Then he rode away, rejoicing that he had worked to this +end. Four hours later he rode back to the little home. + +"The Judge has paid over the money to Old Skinflint Prickley," he said +blithely, "and the place is all yours. The deacon had compounded the +interest, which is against the laws of the state, so here are a few +dollars to help tide you over until the Judge gets the pension for +you." + +"David," she said solemnly, "an old woman's prayers may help you, and +some day, when you are a great man, you will do great deeds, but none +of them will be as great as that which you have done to-day." + +David rode home with the echo of this benediction in his ears. He had +asked the Judge to keep the transaction secret, but of course the +Judge told Barnabas, who in turn informed Uncle Larimy. + +"I told the boy when his ma died," said Uncle Larimy, "that things go +'skew sometimes, but that the sun would shine. The sun will allers be +a-shinin' fer him when he does such deeds as this." + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +The fare to his college town, his books, and his tuition so depleted +David's capital of one hundred dollars that he hastened to deposit the +balance for an emergency. Then he set about to earn his "keep," as he +had done in the country, but there were many students bent on a +similar quest and he soon found that the demand for labor was exceeded +by the supply. + +Before the end of the first week he was able to write home that he had +found a nice, quiet lodging in exchange for the care of a furnace in +winter and the trimming of a lawn in other seasons, and that he had +secured a position as waiter to pay for his meals; also that there was +miscellaneous employment to pay for his washing and incidentals. + +He didn't go into details and explain that the "nice quiet lodging" +was a third-floor rear whose gables gave David's six feet of length +but little leeway. It was quiet because the third floor was not +heated, and its occupants therefore stayed away as much as possible. +His services as waiter were required only at dinner time, in exchange +for which he received that meal. His breakfast and luncheon he +procured as best he could; sometimes he dispensed with them entirely. +Crackers, milk, and fruit, as the cheapest articles of diet, appeared +oftenest on his menu. Sometimes he went fishing and surreptitiously +smuggled the cream of the catch up to his little abode, for Mrs. +Tupps' "rules to roomers," as affixed to the walls, were explicit: "No +cooking or washing allowed in rooms." But Mrs. Tupps, like her fires, +was nearly always out, for she was a member of the Woman's Relief +Corps, Ladies' Aid, Ladies' Guild, Woman's League, Suffragette +Society, Pioneer Society, and Eastern Star. At the meetings of these +various societies she was constant in attendance, so in her absence +her roomers "made hay," as David termed it, cooking their provender +and illicitly performing laundry work in the bathtub. Still, there +must always be "on guard" duty, for Mrs. Tupps was a stealthy stalker. +One saw her not, but now and then there was a faint rustle on the +stair. David's eyes and ears, trained to keenness, were patient and +vigilant, so he was generally chosen as sentinel, and he acquired new +caution, adroitness, and a quietness of movement. + +There had been three or four close calls. Once, she had knocked at +his door as he was in the act of boiling eggs over the gas jet. In +the twinkling of an eye the saucepan was thrust under the bed, and +David, sweet and serene of expression, opened the door to the +inquisitive-eyed Tupps. + +"I came to borrow a pen," she said shamelessly, her eyes penetrating +the cracks and crevices of the little room. + +David politely regretted that he used an indelible pencil and +possessed no pens. + +In the act of removing all records and remains of feasts, David became +an adept. Neat, unsuspicious looking parcels were made and conveyed, +after retiring hours, to a near-by vacant lot, where once had been +visible an excavation for a cellar, but this had been filled to street +level with tin cans, paper bags, butter bowls, cracker cases, egg +shells, and pie plates from the House of Tupps. + +His miscellaneous employment, mentioned in his letter, was any sort of +work he could find to do. + +David became popular with professors by reason of his record in +classes and the application and concentration he brought to his +studies. His prowess in all sports, his fairness, and the spirit of +_camaraderie_ he always maintained with his associates, made him a +general favorite. He wore fairly good clothes, was well groomed, and +always in good spirits, so of his privations and poverty only one or +two of those closest to him were even suspicious. He was entirely +reticent on the subject, though open and free in all other discourse, +and permitted no encroachment on personal matters. One or two chance +offenders intuitively perceived a slight but impassable barrier. + +"Dunne has grown a little gaunt-eyed since he first came here," said +one of his chosen friends to a classmate one evening. "He's outdoors +enough to counteract overstudy. But do you suppose he has enough to +eat? So many of these fellows live on next to nothing." + +"I shouldn't be surprised if he were on rations. You know he always +makes some excuse when we invite him to a spread. He's too proud to +accept favors and not reciprocate, I believe." + +David overheard these remarks, and a very long walk was required to +restore his serenity. During this walk he planned to get some extra +work that would insure him compensation requisite to provide a modest +spread so that he might allay their suspicions. Upon his return to his +lodgings he found an enormous box which had come by express from +Lafferton. It contained Pennyroyal's best culinary efforts; also four +dozen eggs, a two-pound pat of butter, coffee, and a can of cream. + +He propitiated Mrs. Tupps by the proffer of a dozen of the eggs and +told her of his desire to entertain his friends. It would be +impossible to do this in his room, for when he lay in bed he could +touch every piece of furniture with but little effort. + +David had become his landlady's confidant and refuge in time of +trouble, and she was willing to allow him the privilege of the dining +room. + +"I am going away to-night for a couple of days, but I would rather you +wouldn't mention it to the others. You may have the use of the dining +room and the dishes." + +David's friends were surprised to receive an off-hand invitation from +him to "drop in for a little country spread." They were still more +surprised when they beheld the long table with its sumptuous array of +edibles,--raised biscuits, golden butter, cold chicken, pickles, +jelly, sugared doughnuts, pork cake, gold and silver cake, crullers, +mince pie, apple pie, cottage cheese, cider, and coffee. + +"It looks like a county fair exhibit, Dunne," said a city-bred chap. + +Six healthy young appetites did justice to this repast and insured +David's acceptance of five invitations to dine. It took Mrs. Tupps and +David fully a week to consume the remnants of this collation. The eggs +he bestowed upon an anemic-faced lodger who had been prescribed a milk +and egg diet, but with eggs at fifty cents a dozen he had not filled +his prescription. + +[Illustration: "_David's friends were surprised to receive an off-hand +invitation +from him to 'drop in for a little country spread'_"] + +At the end of the college year David went back to the farm, and a snug +sense of comfort and a home-longing filled him at the sight of the old +farmhouse, its lawn stretching into gardens, its gardens into +orchards, orchards into meadows, and meadows into woodlands. Through +the long, hot summer he tilled the fields, and invested the proceeds +in clothes and books for the ensuing year. + +There followed three similar years of a hand-to-mouth existence, the +privations of which he endured in silence. There were little +occasional oases, such as boxes from Pennyroyal, or extra revenue now +and then from tutoring, but there were many, many days when his +healthy young appetite clamored in vain for appeasement. On such days +came the temptation to borrow from Barnabas the money to finish his +course in comfort, but the young conqueror never yielded to this +enticement. He grew stronger and sturdier in spirit after each +conflict, but lost something from his young buoyancy and elasticity +which he could never regain. His struggles added a touch of grimness +to his old sense of humor, but when he was admitted to the bar he was +a man in courage, strength, and endurance. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +It seemed to David, when he was at the farm again, that in his absence +time had stood still, except with Janey. She was a slender slip of a +girl, gentle voiced and soft hearted. Her eyes were infinitely blue +and lovely, and there was a glad little ring in her voice when she +greeted "Davey." + +M'ri gave a cry of surprised pleasure when she saw her former charge. +He was tall, lithe, supple, and hard-muscled. His face was not very +expressive in repose, but showed a quiet strength when lighted by the +keenness of his serious, brown eyes and the sweetness of his smile. +His color was a deep-sea tan. + +"It seems so good to be alive, Aunt M'ri. I thought I was weaned away +from farm life until I bit into one of those snow apples from the old +tree by the south corner of the orchard. Then I knew I was home." + +Pennyroyal shed her first visible tear. + +"I am glad you are home again, David," she sniffed. "You were always +such a clean boy." + +"I missed you more'n any one did, David," acknowledged Miss Rhody. "Ef +I hed been a Catholic I should a felt as ef the confessional hed been +took from me. I ain't hed no one to talk secret like to excep' when +Joe comes onct a year. He ain't been fer a couple of years, either, +but he sent me anuther black dress the other day--silk, like the last +one. To think of little Joe Forbes a-growin' up and keepin' me in silk +dresses!" + +"I'll buy your next one for you," declared David emphatically. + +The next day after his return from college David started his legal +labors under the watchful eye of the Judge. He made a leap-frog +progress in acquiring an accurate knowledge of legal lore. He worked +and waited patiently for the Judge's recognition of his readiness to +try his first case, and at last the eventful time came. + +"No; there isn't the slightest prospect of his winning it," the Judge +told his wife that night. + +"The prosecution has strong evidence, and we have nothing--barely a +witness of any account." + +"Then the poor man will be convicted and David will gain no glory," +lamented M'ri. "It means so much to a young lawyer to win his first +case." + +The Judge smiled. + +"Neither of them needs any sympathy. Miggs ought to have been sent +over the road long ago. David's got to have experience before he gains +glory." + +"How did you come to take such a case?" asked M'ri, for the Judge was +quite exclusive in his acceptance of clients. + +"It was David's doings," said the Judge, with a frown that had a smile +lurking behind it. + +"Why did he wish you to take the case?" persisted M'ri. + +"As near as I can make out," replied the Judge, with a slight +softening of his grim features, "it was because Miggs' wife takes in +washing when Miggs is celebrating." + +M'ri walked quickly to the window, murmuring some unintelligible sound +of endearment. + +On the day of the summing-up at the trial the court room was crowded. +There were the habitual court hangers on, David's country friends _en +masse_, a large filling in at the back of the representatives of the +highways and byways, associates of the popular wrongdoer, and the +legal lore of the town, with the good-humored patronage usually +bestowed by the profession on the newcomer to their ranks. + +As the Judge had said, his client was conceded to be slated for +conviction. If he had made the argument himself he would have made it +in his usual cool, well-poised manner. But David, although he knew +Miggs to be a veteran of the toughs, felt sure of his innocence in +this case, and he was determined to battle for him, not for the sake +of justice alone, but for the sake of the tired-looking washerwoman he +had seen bending over the tubs. This was an occupation she had to +resort to only in her husband's times of indulgence, for he was a wage +earner in his days of soberness. + +When David arose to speak it seemed to the people assembled that the +coil of evidence, as reviewed by the prosecutor in his argument, was +drawn too closely for any power to extricate the victim. + +At the first words of the young lawyer, uttered in a voice of winning +mellowness, the public forgot the facts in the case. Swayed by the +charm of David's personality, a current of new-born sympathy for the +prisoner ran through the court room. + +David came up close to the jury and, as he addressed them, he seemed +to be oblivious of the presence of any one else in the room. It was as +though he were telling them, his friends, something he alone knew, and +that he was sure of their belief in his statements. + +"For all the world," thought M'ri, listening, "as he used to tell +stories when he was a boy. He'd fairly make you believe they were +true." + +To be sure the jury were all his friends; they had known him when +he was little "barefoot Dave Dunne." Still, they were captivated by +this new oratory, warm, vivid, and inspiring, delivered to the +accompaniment of dulcet and seductive tones that transported them +into an enchanted world. Their senses were stirred in the same way +they would be if a flag were unfurled. + +"Sounds kind o' like orgin music," whispered Miss Rhody. + +Yet underneath the eloquence was a logical simplicity, a keen sifting +of facts, the exposure of flaws in the circumstantial evidence. There +was a force back of what he said like the force back of the +projectile. About the form of the hardened sinner, Miggs, David +drew a circle of innocence that no one ventured to cross. Simply, +convincingly, and concisely he summed up, with a forceful appeal to +their intelligence, their honor, and their justice. + +The reply by the assistant to the prosecutor was perfunctory and +ineffective. The charge of the judge was neutral. The jury left the +room, and were out eight and one-quarter minutes. As they filed in, +the foreman sent a triumphant telepathic message to David before he +quietly drawled out: + +"Not guilty, yer Honor." + +The first movement was from Mrs. Miggs. And she came straight to +David, not to the jury. + +"David," said the Judge, who had cleared his throat desperately and +wiped his glasses carefully, at the look in the eyes of the young +lawyer when they had rested on the defendant's wife, "hereafter our +office will be the refuge for all the riffraff in the country." + +This was his only comment, but the Judge did not hesitate to turn over +any case to him thereafter. + +When David had added a few more victories to his first one, Jud made +one of his periodical diversions by an offense against the law which +was far more serious in nature than his previous misdeeds had been. +M'ri came out to the farm to discuss the matter. + +"Barnabas, Martin thinks you had better let the law take its course +this time. He says it's the only procedure left untried to reform Jud. +He is sure he can get a light sentence for him--two years." + +"M'ri," said Barnabas, in a voice vibrating with reproach, "do you +want Jud to go to prison?" + +M'ri paled. + +"I want to do what is best for him, Barnabas. Martin thinks it will be +a salutary lesson." + +"I wonder, M'ri," said Barnabas slowly, "if the Judge had a son of his +own, he would try to reform him by putting him behind bars." + +"Oh, Barnabas!" protested M'ri, with a burst of tears. + +"He's still my boy, if he is wild, M'ri." + +"But, Barnabas, Martin's patience is exhausted. He has got him out of +trouble so many times--and, oh, Barnabas, he says he won't under any +circumstances take the case! He is ashamed to face the court and jury +with such a palpably guilty client. I have pleaded with him, but I +can't influence him. You know how set he can be!" + +"Wal, there are other lawyers," said Barnabas grimly. + +[Illustration: "_He kept his word. Jud was cleared_"] + +David had remained silent and constrained during this conversation, +the lines of his young face setting like steel. Suddenly he left the +house and paced up and down in the orchard, to wrestle once more with +the old problem of his boyhood days. It was different now. Then it had +been a question of how much he must stand from Jud for the sake of the +benefits bestowed by the offender's father. Now it meant a sacrifice +of principle. He had made his boyish boast that he would defend only +those who were wrongfully accused. To take this case would be to bring +his wagon down from the star. Then suddenly he found himself disposed +to arraign himself for selfishly clinging to his ideals. + +He went back into the house, where M'ri was still tearfully arguing +and protesting. He came up to Barnabas. + +"I will clear Jud, if you will trust the case to me, Uncle Barnabas." + +Barnabas grasped his hand. + +"Bless you, Dave, my boy," he said. "I wanted you to, but Jud has +been--wal, I didn't like to ask you." + +"David," said M'ri, when they were alone, "Martin said you wouldn't +take a case where you were convinced of the guilt of the client." + +"I shall take this case," was David's quiet reply. + +"Really, David, Martin thinks it will be best for Jud--" + +"I don't want to do what is best for Jud, Aunt M'ri, I want to do what +is best for Uncle Barnabas. It's the first chance I ever had to do +anything for him." + +When Judge Thorne found that David was determined to defend Jud, he +gave him some advice: + +"You must get counter evidence, if you can, David. If you have any +lingering idea that you can appeal to the jury on account of Barnabas +being Jud's father, root out that idea. There's no chance of rural +juries tempering justice with mercy. With them it's an eye for an eye, +every time." + +David had an infinitely harder task in clearing Jud than he had had in +defending Miggs. The evidence was clear, the witnesses sure and wary, +and the prisoner universally detested save by his evil-minded +companions, but these obstacles brought out in full force all David's +indomitable will and alertness. He tipped up and entrapped the +prosecution's witnesses with lightning dexterity. One of them chanced +to be a man whom David had befriended, and he aided him by replying +shrewdly in Jud's favor. + +But it was Jud himself who proved to be David's trump card. He was +keen, crafty, and quick to seize his lawyer's most subtle suggestions. +His memory was accurate, and with David's steering he avoided all +traps set for him on cross examination. When David stood before the +jury for the most stubborn fight he had yet made, his mother's last +piece of advice--all she had to bequeath to him--permeated every +effort. He put into his argument all the compelling force within him. +There were no ornate sentences this time, but he concentrated his +powers of logic and persuasiveness upon his task. The jury was out two +hours, during which time Barnabas and Jud sat side by side, pale and +anxious, but upheld by David's confident assurance of victory. + +He kept his word. Jud was cleared. + +"You're a smart lawyer, Dave," commented Uncle Larimy. + +David looked at him whimsically. + +"I had a smart client, Uncle Larimy." + +"That's what you did, Dave, but he's gettin' too dernd smart. You'd a +done some of us a favor if you'd let him git sent up." + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +"Dave," said Barnabas on one memorable day, "the Jedge hez hed his +innings trying to make you a lawyer. Now it's my turn." + +"All right, Uncle Barnabas, I am ready." + +"Hain't you hed enough of law, Dave? You've given it a good trial, and +showed what you could do. It'll be a big help to you to know the law, +and it'll allers be sumthin' to fall back on when things get slack, +but ain't you pinin' fer somethin' a leetle spryer?" + +"Yes, I am," was the frank admission. "I like the excitement attending +a case, and the fight to win, but it's drudgery between times--like +soldiering in time of peace." + +"Wal, Dave, I've got a job fer you wuth hevin', and one that starts +toward what you air a-goin' to be." + +David's breath came quickly. + +"What is it?" + +"Thar's no reason at all why you can't go to legislatur' and make new +laws instead of settin' in the Jedge's office and larnin' to dodge old +ones. I'm a-runnin' politics in these parts, and I'm a-goin' to git +you nominated. After that, you'll go the hull gamut--so 't will be up +the ladder and over the wall fer you, Dave." + +So, David, to the astonishment of the Judge, put his foot on the +first round of the political ladder as candidate for the legislature. +At the same time Janey returned from the school in the East, where +she had been "finished," and David's heart beat an inspiring +tattoo every time he looked at her, but he was nominated by a +speech-loving, speech-demanding district, and he had so many +occasions for oratory that only snatches of her companionship were +possible throughout the summer. + +Joe came on to join in the excitement attending the campaign. It had +been some time since his last visit, and he scarcely recognized David +when he met him at the Lafferton station. + +"Well, Dave," said the ranchman, "if you are as strong and sure as you +look, you won't need my help in the campaign." + +"I always need you, Joe. But you haven't changed in the least, unless +you look more serious than ever, perhaps." + +"It's the outdoor life does that. Take a field-bred lad, he always +shies a bit at people." + +"Your horse does, too, I notice. He arrived safely a week ago, and I +put him up at the livery here in Lafferton. I was afraid he would +demoralize all the horses at the farm." + +"Good! I'll ride out this evening. I have a little business to attend +to here in town, and I want to see the Judge and his wife, of +course." + +When the western sky line gleamed in crimson glory Joe came riding at +a long lope up the lane. He sat his spirited horse easily, one leg +thrown over the horn of his saddle. As he neared the house, a +thrashing machine started up. The desert-bred horse shied, and +performed maneuvers terrifying to Janey, but Joe in the saddle was +ever a part of the horse. Quietly and impassively he guided the +frightened animal until the machine was passed. Then he slid from the +horse and came up to Janey and David, who were awaiting his coming. + +"This can never be little Janey!" he exclaimed, holding her hand +reverently. + +"I haven't changed as much as Davey has," she replied, dimpling. + +"Oh, yes, you have! You are a woman. David is still a boy, in spite of +his six feet." + +"You don't know about Davey!" she said breathlessly. "He has won all +kinds of law cases, and he is going to the legislature." + +Joe laughed. + +"I repeat, he is still a boy." + +On the morrow David started forth on a round of speech making, +canvassing the entire district. He returned at the wane of October's +golden glow for the round-up, as Joe termed the finish of the +campaign. The flaunting crimson of the maples, the more sedate tinge +of the oaks, the vivid yellow of the birches, the squashes piled up on +the farmhouse porches, and the fields filled with pyramidal stacks of +cornstalks brought a vague sense of loneliness as he rode out from +Lafferton to the farm. He left his horse at the barn and came up to +the house through the old orchard as the long, slanting rays of +sunlight were making afternoon shadows of all who crossed their path. + +He found Janey sitting beneath their favorite tree. An open book lay +beside her. She was gazing abstractedly into space, with a new look in +her star-like eyes. + +David's big, untouched heart gave a quick leap. He took up the book +and with an exultant little laugh discovered that it was a book of +poems! Janey, who could never abide fairy stories, reading poetry! +Surprised and embarrassed, after a shy greeting she hurried toward the +house, her cheeks flaming. Something very beautiful and breath-taking +came into David's thoughts at that moment. + +He was roused from his beatific state by the approach of Barnabas, so +he was obliged to concentrate his attention on giving a resume of his +tour. Then the Judge telephoned for him to come to his office, and he +was unable to finish his business there until dusk. The night was +clear and frost touched. He left his horse in the lane and walked up +to the house. As he came on to the porch he looked in through the +window. The bright fire on the hearth, the soft glow of the shaded +lamp, and the fair-haired girl seated by a table, needlework in hand, +gave him a hunger for a hearth of his own. + +Suddenly the scene shifted. Joe came in from the next room. Janey rose +to her feet, a look of love lighting her face as she went to the arms +outstretched to receive her. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +David went back to Lafferton. The little maid informed him that the +Judge and his wife were out for the evening; but there was always a +room in readiness for him, so he sat alone by the window, staring into +the lighted street, trying to comprehend that Janey was not for him. + +It was late the next morning when he came downstairs. + +"I am glad, David, you decided to stay here last night," said M'ri, +whose eyes were full of a yearning solicitude. + +She sat down at the table with him while he drank his coffee. + +"David." + +She spoke in a desperate tone, that caused him to glance keenly at +her. + +"If you have anything to tell," he said quietly, "it's a good plan to +tell it at once." + +"Since you have been away Joe and Janey have been together +constantly. It seems to have been a case of mutual love. David, they +are engaged." + +"So," he said gravely, "I am to lose my little sister. Joe is a man in +a thousand." + +"But, David, I had set my heart on Janey's marrying you, from that +very first day when you went to school together and you carried her +books. Do you remember?" + +"Yes," he replied whimsically, "but even then Joe met us and took her +away from me. But I must drive out and congratulate them." + +M'ri gazed after him in perplexity as he left the house. + +"I wonder," she mused, "if I ever quite understood David!" + +Miss Rhody called to David as he was passing her house and bade him +come in. + +"You've hed a hard trip," she said, with a keen glance into his tired, +boyish eyes. + +"Very hard, Miss Rhody." + +"You have heard about Janey--and Joe?" + +"Aunt M'ri just told me," he said, wincing ever so slightly. + +"They was all sot on your being her sweetheart, except me and her--and +Joe." + +"Why not you, Miss Rhody?" + +"You ain't never been in love with Janey--not the way you'll love some +day. When I was sick last fall Almiry Green come over to read to me +and she brung a book of poems. I never keered much for po'try, and +Almiry, she didn't nuther, but she hed jest ketched Widower Pankey, +and so she thought it was proper to be readin' po'try. She read +somethin' about fust love bein' a primrose, and a-fallin' to make way +fer the real rose, and I thought to myself: 'That's David. His feelin' +fer Janey is jest a primrose.'" + +David's eyes were inscrutable, but she continued: + +"I knowed she hed allers fancied Joe sence she was a little tot and he +give her them beads. When Joe's name was spoke she was allers +shy-like. She wuz never shy-like with you." + +"No," admitted David wearily, "but I must go on to the farm now, Miss +Rhody. I will come in again soon." + +When he came into the sitting room of the farmhouse, where he found +Joe and Janey, the rare smile that comes with the sweetness of +renunciation was on his lips. After he had congratulated them, he +asked for Barnabas. + +"He just started for the woods," said Joe. "I think he is on his way +to Uncle Larimy's." + +David hastened to overtake him, and soon caught sight of the bent +figure walking slowly over the stubbled field. + +"Uncle Barnabas!" he called. + +Barnabas turned and waited. + +"Did you see Janey and Joe?" he asked, looking keenly into the +shadowed eyes. + +"Yes; Aunt M'ri had told me." + +"When?" + +"This morning. Joe's a man after your own heart, Uncle Barnabas." + +"It's you I wanted fer her," said the old man bluntly. "I never dreamt +of its bein' enybody else. It's an orful disapp'intment to me, Dave. +I'd ruther see you her man than to see you what I told you long ago I +meant fer you to be." + +"And I, too, Uncle Barnabas," said David, with slow earnestness, +"would rather be your son than to be governor of this state!" + +"You did care, then, David," said the old man sadly. "It don't seem to +be much of a surprise to you." + +"Uncle Barnabas, I will tell you something which I want no one else to +know. I came back last evening and drove out here. I looked in the +window, and saw her as she sat at work. It came into my heart to go in +then and ask her to marry me, instead of waiting until after election +as I had planned. Then Joe came in and she--went to him. I returned to +Lafferton. It was daylight before I had it out with myself." + +"Dave! I thought I knew you better than any of them. It's been a purty +hard test, but you won't let it spile your life?" + +"No, I won't, Uncle Barnabas. I owe it to you, if not to myself, to go +straight ahead as you have mapped it out for me." + +"Bless you, Dave! You're the right stuff!" + + + + +PART THREE + +CHAPTER I + + +In January David took his seat in the House of Representatives, of +which he was the youngest member. It was not intended by that august +body that he should take any role but the one tacitly conceded to him +of making silver-tongued oratory on the days when the public would +crowd the galleries to hear an all-important measure, the "Griggs +Bill," discussed. The committee were to give him the facts and the +general line of argument, and he was to dress it up in his fantastic +way. They were entirely willing that he should have the applause from +the public as well as the credit of the victory; all they cared for +was the certainty of the passage of the bill. + +David's cool, lawyer-like mind saw through all these manipulations and +machinations even if he were only a political tenderfoot. As other +minor measures came up he voted for or against them as his better +judgment dictated, but all his leisure hours were devoted to the +investigation and study of the one big bill which was to be rushed +through at the end of the session. He pored over the status of the +law, found out the policies and opinions of other states on the +subject, and listened attentively to all arguments, but he never took +part in the discussions and he was very guarded in giving an +expression of his views, an attitude which pleased the promoters of +the bill until it began to occur to them that his caution came from +penetration into their designs and, perhaps, from intent to thwart +them. + +"He has ketched on," mournfully stated an old-timer from the third +district. "I'm allers mistrustful of these young critters. They are +sure to balk on the home stretch." + +"Well, one good thing," grinned a city member, "it breaks their +record, and they don't get another entry." + +David had made a few short speeches on some of the bills, and those +who had read in the papers of the wonderful powers of oratory of the +young member from the eleventh flocked to hear him. They were +disappointed. His speeches were brief, forceful, and logical, but +entirely barren of rhetorical effect. The promoters of the Griggs Bill +began to wonder, but concluded he was saving all his figures of speech +to sugarcoat their obnoxious measure. It occurred to them, too, that +if by chance he should oppose them his bare-handed way of dealing with +subterfuges and his clear presentation of facts would work harm. They +counted, however, on being able to convince him that his future status +in the life political depended upon his cooperation with them in +pushing this bill through. + +Finally he was approached, and then the bomb was thrown. He quietly +and emphatically told them he should fight the bill, single handed if +necessary. Recriminations, arguments, threats, and inducements--all +were of no avail. + +"Let him hang himself if he wants to," growled one of the committee. +"He hasn't influence enough to knock us out. We've got the +majority." + +The measure was one that would radically affect the future interests +of the state, and was being watched and studied by the people, who had +not, as yet, however, realized its significance or its far-reaching +power. The intent of the promoters of the Griggs Bill was to leave the +people unenlightened until it should have become a law. + +"Dunne won't do us any harm," argued the father of the bill on the +eventful day. "He's been saving all his skyrockets for this +celebration. He'll get lots of applause from the women folks," looking +up at the solidly packed gallery, "and his speech will be copied in +all the papers, and that'll be the reward he's looking for." + +When David arose to speak against the Griggs Bill he didn't look the +youngster he had been pictured. His tall, lithe, compelling figure was +drawn to its full height. His eyes darkened to intensity with the +gravity of the task before him; the stern lines of his mouth bespoke +a master of the situation and compelled confidence in his knowledge +and ability. + +The speech delivered in his masterful voice was not so much in +opposition to the bill as it was an exposure of it. He bared it +ruthlessly and thoroughly, but he didn't use his youthful hypnotic +periods of persuasive eloquence that had been wont to sway juries and +to creep into campaign speeches. His wits had been sharpened in the +last few months, and his keen-edged thrusts, hurled rapier-like, +brought a wince to even the most hardened of veteran members. It was a +complete enlightenment in plain words to a plain people--a concise and +convincing protest. + +When he finished there was a tempest of arguments from the other side, +but there was not a point he had not foreseen, and as attack only +brought out the iniquities of the measure, they let the bill come to +ballot. The measure was defeated, and for days the papers were +headlined with David Dunne's name, and accounts of how the veterans +had been routed by the "tenderfoot from the eleventh." + +After his dip into political excitement legal duties became a little +irksome to David, especially after the wedding of Joe and Janey had +taken place. In the fall occurred the death of the United States +senator from the western district of the state. A special session of +the legislature was to be convened for the purpose of pushing through +an important measure, and the election of a successor to fill the +vacancy would take place at the same time. The usual "certain rich +man," anxious for a career, aspired, and, as he was backed by the +state machine as well as by the covert influence of two or three of +the congressmen, his election seemed assured. + +There was an opposing candidate, the choice of the people, however, +who was gathering strength daily. + +"We've got to head off this man Dunne some way," said the manager of +the "certain rich man." "He can't beat us, but with him out of the way +it would be easy sailing, and all opposition would come over to us on +the second ballot." + +"Isn't there a way to win him over?" asked a congressman who was +present. + +The introducer of the memorable measure of the last session shook his +head negatively. + +"He can't be persuaded, threatened, or bought." + +"Then let's get him out of the way." + +"Kidnap him?" + +"Decoy him gently from your path. The consul of a little seaport in +South America has resigned, and at a word from me to Senator Hollis, +who would pass it on to the President, this appointment could be given +to your young bucker, and he'd be out of your way for at least three +years." + +"That would be too good to be true, but he wouldn't bite at such bait. +His aspirations are all in a state line. He's got the usual career +mapped out,--state senator, secretary of state, governor--possibly +President." + +"You can never tell," replied the congressman sagaciously. "A +presidential appointment, the alluring word 'consul,' a foreign +residence, all sound very enticing and important to a young country +man. The Dunne type likes to be the big frog in the puddle. This +stripling you are all so afraid of hasn't cut all his wisdom teeth +yet. It's worth a try. I'll tackle him." + +The morning after this conversation, as David walked down to the +Judge's office he felt very lonely--a part of no plan. It was a mood +that made him ripe for the purpose of the congressman whom he found +awaiting him. + +"I've been wanting to meet you for a long time, Mr. Dunne," said the +congressman obsequiously, after the Judge had introduced him. "We've +heard a great deal about you down in Washington since your defeat of +the Griggs Bill, and we are looking for great things from you. Of +course, we have to keep our eye on what is going on back here." + +The Judge looked his surprise at this speech, and was still more +mystified at receiving a knowing wink from David. + +After some preliminary talk the congressman finally made known his +errand, and tendered David the offer of a consulship in South +America. + +At this juncture the Judge was summoned to the telephone in another +room. When he returned the congressman had taken his departure. + +"Behold," grinned David, "the future consul of--I really can't +pronounce it. I am going to look it up now in your atlas." + +"Where is Gilbert?" asked the Judge. + +"Gone to wire Hilliard before I can change my mind. You see, it's a +scheme to get me out of the road and I--well I happen to be willing to +get out of the road just now. I am not in a fighting mood." + +"Consular service," remarked the Judge oracularly, "is generally +considered a sort of clearing house for undesirable politicians. The +consuls to those little ports are, as a rule, very poor." + +"Then a good consul like your junior partner will loom up among so +many poor ones." + +Barnabas was inwardly disturbed by this move from David, but he +philosophically argued that "the boy was young and 't wouldn't harm +him to salt down awhile." + +"Dave," he counseled in farewell, "I hope you'll come to love some +good gal. Every man orter hev a hearth of his own. This stretchin' +yer feet afore other folks' firesides is unnateral and lonesome. +Thar's no place so snug and safe fer a man as his own home, with a +good wife to keep it. But I want you tew make me a promise, Dave. When +I see the time's ripe fer pickin' in politics, will you come back?" + +"I will, Uncle Barnabas," promised David solemnly. + +The heartiest approval came from Joe. + +"That's right, Dave, see all you can of the world instead of settling +down in a pasture lot at Lafferton." + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Gilbert, complacent and affable, returned to Washington accompanied by +David. A month later the newly made consul sailed from New York for +South America. He landed at a South American seaport that had a fine +harbor snugly guarded by jutting cliffs skirting the base of a hill +barren and severe in aspect. + +As he walked down the narrow, foreign streets thronged with a strange +people, and saw the structures with their meaningless signs, he began +to feel a wave of homesickness. Then, looking up, he felt that little +inner thrill that comes from seeing one's flag in a foreign land. + +"And that is why I am here," he thought, "to keep that flag flying." + +He resolutely started out on the first day to keep the flag flying in +the manner befitting the kind of a consul he meant to be. He +maintained a strict watch over the commercial conditions, and his +reports of consular news were promptly rendered in concise and +instructive form. His native tact and inherent courtesy won him favor +with the government, his hospitality and kindly intent conciliated the +natives, and he was soon also accorded social privileges. He began to +enjoy life. His duties were interesting, and his leisure was devoted +to the pursuit of novel pleasures. + +Fletcher Wilder, the son of the president of an American mining +company, was down there ostensibly to look after his father's +interests, but in reality to take out pleasure parties in his trim +little yacht, and David soon came to be the most welcome guest that +set foot on its deck. + +At the end of a year, when his duties had become a matter of routine +and his life had lost the charm of novelty, David's ambitions started +from their slumbers, though not this time in a political way. Wilder +had cruised away, and the young consul was conscious of a sense of +aloneness. He spent his evenings on his spacious veranda, from where +he could see the moonlight making a rippling road of silver across the +black water. The sensuous beauty of the tropical nights brought him +back to his early Land of Dreams, and the pastime that he had been +forced to relinquish for action now appealed to him with overwhelming +force and fascination. But the dreams were a man's dreams, not the +fleeting fancies of a boy. They continued to possess and absorb him +until one night, when he was looking above the mountains at one lone +star that shone brighter than the rest, he was moved for the first +time to give material shape and form to his conceptions. The impulse +led to execution. + +"I must get it out of my system," he explained half apologetically to +himself as he began the writing of a novel. To this task, as to +everything else he had undertaken, he brought the entire concentration +of his mind and energy, until the book soon began to seem real to +him--more real than anything he had done. As he was copying the last +page for the last time, Fletcher sailed into the harbor for a week of +farewell before returning to New York. + +"What have you been doing for amusement these last six months, +Dunne?" he asked as he dropped into David's house. + +"You'd never guess," said David, "what your absence drove me to. I've +written a book--a novel." + +"Let me take it back to the hotel with me to-night. I haven't been +sleeping well lately, and it may--" + +"If it serves as a soporific," said David gravely, as he handed him +the bulky package, "my labor will not have been in vain." + +The next morning Wilder came again into David's office. + +"I fear you didn't sleep well, after all," observed David, looking at +his visitor's heavy-lidded eyes. + +"No, darn you, Dunne. I took up your manuscript and I never laid it +down until the first streaks of dawn. Then when I went to bed I lay +awake thinking it all over. Why, Dunne, it's the best book I ever +read!" + +"I wish," David replied with a whimsical smile, "that you were a +publisher." + +"Speaking of publishers, that's why I didn't bring the manuscript +back. I sail in a week, and I want you to let me take it to a +publisher I know in New York. He will give it a prompt reading." + +"If it wouldn't bother you too much, I wish you would. You see, it +would take so long for it to come back here and be sent out again each +time it is rejected." + +"Rejected!" scoffed Wilder. "You wait and see! Aren't you going to +dedicate it?" + +David hesitated, his eyes stealing dreamily out across the bay to the +horizon line. + +"I wonder," he said meditatively, "if the person to whom it is +dedicated--every word of it--wouldn't know without the inscription." + +"No," objected Fletcher, "you should have it appear out of compliment." + +He smiled as he wrote on a piece of paper: "To T. L. P." + +"The initials of your sweetheart?" quizzed Fletcher. + +"No; when I was a little chap I used to spin yarns. These are the +initials of one who was my most absorbed listener." + +Wilder raised anchor and sailed back to the states. At the expiration +of two months he wrote David that his book had been accepted. In time +ten bound copies of his novel, his allotment from the publishers, +brought him a thrill of indescribable pleasure. The next mail brought +papers with glowing reviews and letters of commendation and +congratulations. Next came a good-sized check, and the information +that his book was a "best seller." + +The night that this information was received he went up to the top of +the hill that jutted over the harbor and listened to the song of the +waves. Two years in this land of liquid light--a land of burning days +and silent, sapphired nights, a land of palms and olives--two years of +quiet, dreamy bliss, an idle and unsubstantial time! How evanescent it +seemed, by the light of the days at home, when something had always +pressed him to action. + +"Two years of drifting," he thought. "It is time I, too, raised anchor +and sailed home." + +The next mail brought a letter that made his heart beat faster than it +had yet been able to do in this exotic, lazy land. It was a recall +from Barnabas. + + "DEAR DAVE: + + "Nothing but a lazy life in a foreign land would have drove a + man like you to write a book. The Jedge and M'ri are pleased, + but I know you are cut out for something different. I want you + to come home in time to run for legislature again. There's goin' + to be something doin'. It is time for another senator, and who + do you suppose is plugging for it, and opening hogsheads of + money? Wilksley. I want for you to come back and head him off. + If you've got one speck of your old spirit, and you care + anything about your state, you'll do it. I am still running + politics for this county at the old stand. Your book has started + folks to talking about you agen, so come home while the picking + is good. You've dreamt long enough. It is time to get up. Don't + write no more books till you git too old to work. + + "Yours if you come, + "B. B." + +The letter brought to David's eyes something that no one in this balmy +land had ever seen there. With the look of a fighter belted for battle +he went to the telegraph office and cabled Barnabas, "Coming." + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +On his return to Lafferton David was met at the train by the Judge, +M'ri, and Barnabas. + +"Your trunks air goin' out to the farm, Dave, ain't they?" asked +Barnabas wistfully. + +"Of course," replied David, with an emphasis that brought a look of +pleasure to the old man. + +"Your telegram took a great load offen my mind," he said, as they +drove out to the farm. "Miss Rhody told me all along I need hev no +fears fer you, that you weren't no dawdler." + +"Good for Miss Rhody!" laughed David. "She shall have her reward. I +brought her silk enough for two dresses at least." + +"David," said M'ri suddenly at the dinner table, "do tell me for whose +name those initials in the dedication to your book stand. Is it any +one I know?" + +"I hardly know the person myself," was the smiling and evasive +reply. + +"A woman, David?" + +"She figured largely in my fairy stories." + +"A nickname he had for Janey," she thought with a sigh. + +"Uncle Barnabas," said David the next day, "before we settle down to +things political tell me if you regret my South American experience." + +"Now that you're back and gittin' into harness, I'll overlook +anything. You'd earnt a breathing spell, and you look a hull lot +older. Your book's kep' your name in the papers, tew, which helps." + +"I will show you something that proves the book did more than that," +said David, drawing his bank book from his pocket and passing it to +the old man, who read it unbelievingly. + +"Why, Dave, you're rich!" he exclaimed. + +"No; not rich. I shall always have to work for my living. So tell me +the situation." + +This fully occupied the time it took to drive to town, for Cold +Molasses, successor to Old Hundred, kept the pace his name indicated. +The day was spent in meeting old friends, and then David settled down +to business with his old-time energy. Once more he was nominated for +the legislature and took up the work of campaigning for Stephen Hume, +opponent to Wilksley. Hume was an ardent, honest, clean-handed +politician without money, but he had for manager one Ethan Knowles, a +cool-headed, tireless veteran of campaign battles, with David acting +as assistant and speech maker. + +David was elected, went to the capital, and was honored with the +office of speaker by unanimous vote. He had his plans carefully drawn +for the election of Hume, who came down on the regular train and +established headquarters at one of the hotels, surrounded by a quiet +and determined body of men. + +Wilksley's supporters, a rollicking lot, had come by special train and +were quartered at a club, dispensing champagne and greenbacks +promiscuously and freely. There was also a third candidate, whose +backers were non-committal, giving no intimation as to where their +strength would go in case their candidate did not come in as a dark +horse. + +When the night of the senatorial contest came the floor, galleries, +and lobby of the House were crowded. The Judge, M'ri, and Joe were +there, Janey remaining home with her father, who refused to join the +party. + +"Thar'll be bigger doin's fer me to see Dave officiate at," he +prophesied. + +The quietly humorous young man wielding the gavel found it difficult +to maintain quiet in the midst of such excitement, but he finally +evolved order from chaos. + +Wilksley was the first candidate nominated, a gentleman from the +fourteenth delivering a bombastic oration in pompous periods, +accompanied by lofty gestures. He was followed by an understudy, who +made an ineffective effort to support his predecessor. + +"A ricochet shot," commented Joe. "Wait till Dave hits the bullseye." + +The supporting representatives of the dark horse made short, forceful +speeches. Then followed a brief intermission, while David called a +substitute _pro tem_ to the speaker's desk. He stepped to the platform +to make the nominating speech for Hume, the speech for which every +one was waiting. There was a hush of expectancy, and M'ri felt little +shivers of excitement creeping down her spine as she looked up at +David, dauntless, earnest, and compelling, as he towered above them +all. + +In its simplicity, its ring of truth, and its weight of conviction, +his speech was a masterpiece. + +"A young Patrick Henry!" murmured the Judge. + +M'ri made no comment, for in that flight of a second that intervened +between David's speech and the roar of tumultuous applause, she had +heard a voice, a young, exquisite voice, murmur with a little indrawn +breath, "Oh, David!" + +M'ri turned in surprise, and looked into the confused but smiling face +of a lovely young girl, who said frankly and impulsively: "I don't +know who Mr. Hume may be, but I do hope he wins." + +M'ri smiled in sympathy, trying to place the resemblance. Then her +gaze wandered to the man beside the young girl. + +"You are Carey Winthrop!" she exclaimed. + +The man turned, and leaned forward. + +"Mrs. Thorne, this is indeed a pleasure," he said, extending his +hand. + +Joe then swung his chair around into their vision. + +"Oh, Joe!" cried the young girl ecstatically. "And where is Janey?" + +The balloting was in progress, and there was opportunity for mutual +recalling of old times. Then suddenly the sibilant sounds dropped to +silence as the result was announced. Wilksley had the most votes, the +dark horse the least; Hume enjoyed a happy medium, with fifteen more +to his count than forecast by the man behind the button, as Joe +designated Knowles. + +In the rush of action from the delegates, reporters, clerks, and +messengers, the place resembled a beehive. Then came another ballot +taking. Hume had gained ten votes from the Wilksley men and fifteen +from the dark horse, but still lacked the requisite number. + +From the little retreat where Hume's manager was ensconced, with his +hand on the throttle, David emerged. He looked confident and +determined. + +The third ballot resulted in giving Hume the entire added strength of +the dark horse, and enough votes to elect. A committee was thereupon +appointed to bring the three candidates to the House. When they +entered and were escorted to the platform they each made a speech, and +then formed a reception line. David stood apart, talking to one of the +members. He was beginning to feel the reaction from the long strain he +had been under and wished to slip away from the crowd. Suddenly he +heard some one say: + +"Mr. Speaker, may I congratulate you?" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +He turned quickly, his heart thrilling at the charm in the voice, low, +yet resonant, and sweet with a lurking suggestion of sadness. + +A girl, slender and delicately made, stood before him, a girl with an +exquisite grace and a nameless charm--the something that lurks in the +fragrance of the violet. Her eyes were not the quiet, solemn eyes of +the little princess of his fairy tales, but the deep, fathomless eyes +of a maiden. + +A reminiscent smile stole over his face. + +"The little princess!" he murmured, taking her hand. + +The words brought a flush of color to her fair face. + +"The prince is a politician now," she replied. + +"The prince has to be a politician to fight for his kingdom. Have you +been here all the evening?" + +"Yes; father and I sat with your party. But you were altogether too +absorbed to glance our way." + +"Are you visiting in the city? Will you be here long?" + +"For to-night only. I've been West with father, and we only stopped +off to see what a senatorial fight was like; also, to hear you speak. +To-morrow we return East, and then mother and I shall go abroad. +Father," calling to Mr. Winthrop, "I am renewing my acquaintance with +Mr. Dunne." + +"I wish to do the same," he said, extending his hand cordially. "I +expect to be able to tell people some day that I used to fish in a +country stream with the governor of this state when he was a boy." + +After a few moments of general conversation they all left the +statehouse together. + +"Carey," said Mr. Winthrop, "I am going with the Judge to the club, so +I will put you in David's hands. I believe you have no afraidments +with him." + +"That has come to be a household phrase with us," she laughed; "but +you forget, father, that Mr. Dunne has official duties." + +"If you only knew," David assured her earnestly, "how thankful I am +for a release from them. My task is ended, and I don't wish to +celebrate in the usual and political way." + +"There is a big military ball at the hotel," informed Joe. "Mrs. +Thorne and I thought we would like to go and look on." + +"A fine idea, Joe. Maybe you would like to go?" he said to Carey, +trying to make his tone urgent. + +She laughed at his dismayed expression. + +"No; you may walk to the Bradens' with me. We couldn't get in at the +hotels, and father met Major Braden on the street. He is instructor or +something of the militia of this state, and has gone to the ball with +his wife. They supposed that this contest would last far into the +night, so they planned to be home before we were." + +"We will get a carriage as soon as we are out of the grounds." + +"Have you come to carriages?" she asked, laughingly. "You used to say +if you couldn't ride horseback, or walk, you would stand still." + +"And you agreed with me that carriages were only for the slow, the +stupid, and the infirm," he recalled. "It's a glorious night. Would +you rather walk, really?" + +"Really." + +At the entrance to the grounds they parted from the others and went up +one of the many avenues radiating from the square. + +The air was full of snowflakes, moving so softly and so slowly they +scarcely seemed to fall. The electric lights of the city shone +cheerfully through the white mist, and the sound of distant +mirthmakers fell pleasantly on the ear. + +"Snow is the only picture part of winter," said Carey. "Do you +remember the story of the Snow Princess?" + +"You must have a wonderful memory!" he exclaimed. "You were only six +years old when I told you that story." + +"I have a very vivid memory," she replied. "Sometimes it almost +frightens me." + +"Do you know," he said, "that I think people that have dreams and +fancies do look backward farther than matter-of-fact people, who let +things out of sight go out of mind?" + +"You were full of dreams then, but I don't believe you are now. Of +course, politicians have no time or inclination for dreams." + +"No; they usually have a dread of dreams. Would you rather have found +me still a dreamer?" he asked, looking down into her dark eyes, which +drooped beneath the intensity of his gaze. + +Then her delicate face, misty with sweetness, turned toward him +again. + +"No; dreams are for children and for old people, whose memories, like +their eyes, are for things far off. This is your time to do things, +not to dream them. And you have done things. I heard Major Braden +telling father about you at dinner--your success in law, your getting +some bill killed in the legislature, and your having been to South +America. Father says you have had a wonderful career for a young man. +I used to think when I was a little girl that when you were a grown-up +prince you would kill dragons and bring home golden fleeces." + +He smiled with a sudden deep throb of pleasure. Her voice stirred him +with a sense of magic. + +"This is the Braden home," she said, stopping before a big house that +seemed to be all pillars and porches. "You'll come in for a little +while, won't you?" + +"I'll come in, if I may, and help you to recall some more of Maplewood +days." + +A trim little maid opened the door and led the way into a long library +where in the fireplace a pine backlog, crisscrossed by sturdy forelogs +of birch and maple, awaited the touch of a match. It was given, and +the room was filled with a flaring light that made the soft lamplight +seem pale and feeble. + +"This is a genuine Brumble fire," he exclaimed, as they sat down +before the ruddy glow. "It carries me back to farm life." + +"How many phases of life you have seen," mused Carey. "Country, +college, city, tropical, and now this political life. Which one have +you really enjoyed the most?" + +"My life in the Land of Dreams--that beautiful Isle of Everywhere," he +replied. + +Her eyes grew radiant with understanding. + +"You are not so very much changed since your days of dreaming," she +said, smiling. "To be sure, you have lost your freckles and you don't +kick at the ground when you walk, and--" + +"And," he reminded, as she paused. + +"You are no longer twice my age." + +"Did Janey tell you?" + +"Yes; the last summer I was at Maplewood--the summer you were +graduated. You say you don't dream any more, but it wasn't so very +long ago that you did, else how could you have written that wonderful +book?" + +"Then you read it?" he asked eagerly. + +"Of course I read it." + +"All of it?" + +"Could any one begin it and not finish it? I've read some parts of it +many times." + +"Did you," he asked slowly, holding her eyes in spite of her desire +to lower them, "read the dedication?" + +And by their subtle confession he knew that this was one of the parts +she had read "many times." + +"Yes," she replied, trying to speak lightly, but breathing quickly, +"and I wondered who T. L. P. might be." + +"And so you didn't know," in slow, disappointed tones, "that they +stood for the name I gave you when I first met you--the name by which +I always think of you? It was with your perfect understanding of my +old fancies in mind that I wrote the book. And so I dedicated it to +you, thinking if you read it you would know even without the +inscription. Some one suggested--" + +"It was Fletcher," she began. + +"Oh, you know Wilder?" + +"Yes, I've known him always. He has told me of your days in South +America together and how he told you to dedicate it. And he wondered +who T. L. P. might be." + +"And you never guessed?" + +Her face, bent over the firelight, looked small and white; her +beautiful eyes were fixed and grave. Then suddenly she lifted them to +his with the artlessness of a child. + +"I did know," she confessed. "At least, I hoped--I claimed it as my +book, anyway, but I thought your memory of those summers at the farm +might not have been as keen as mine." + +"It is keen," he replied. "I have always thought of you as a little +princess who only lived in my dreams, but, hereafter, you are not only +in my past dreams, but I hope, in my future." + +"When we come back--" + +"Will you be gone long?" he asked wistfully. "Is your father--" + +"Father can't go, but he may join us." + +After a moment's hesitation she continued, with a slight blush: + +"Fletcher is going with us." + +"Oh," he said, wondering at his tinge of disappointment. + +"Carey," he said wistfully, as he was leaving, "don't you think when a +man dedicates a book to a girl, and they both have a joint claim on a +territory known as the Land of Dreams, that she might call him, as she +did when they were boy and girl, by his first name?" + +"Yes, David," she replied with a light little laugh. + +The music of the soft "a" rang entrancingly in his ears as he walked +back to the hotel. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +There was but one important measure to deal with in this session of +the legislature, but David's penetration into a thorough understanding +of each bill, and the patience and sagacity he displayed in settling +all disputes, won the approbation of even doubtful and divided +factions. He flashed a new fire of life into the ebbing enthusiasm of +his followers, whom he had led to victory on the Griggs Bill. At the +close of the session, early in May, he was presented with a set of +embossed resolutions commending his fulfillment of his duties. + +That same night, in his room at the hotel, as he was packing his +belongings, he was waited upon by a delegation composed alike of +horny-handed tillers of the soil and distinguished statesmen. + +"We come, David," said the spokesman, who had been chairman of the +county convention, "to say that you are our choice for the next +governor of this state, and in saying this we know we are echoing the +sentiment of the Republican party. In fact, we are looking to you as +the only man who can bring that party to victory." + +He said many more things, flattering and echoed by his followers. It +made the blood tingle in David's veins to know that these men of +plain, honest, country stock, like himself, believed in him and in his +honor. In kaleidoscopic quickness there passed in review his +life,--the days when he and his mother had struggled with a wretched +poverty that the neighbors had only half suspected, the first turning +point in his life, when he was taken unto the hearth and home of +strong-hearted people, his years at college, the plodding days in +pursuit of the law, his hotly waged fight in the legislature, and his +short literary career, and he felt a surging of boyish pride at the +knowledge that he was now approaching his goal. + +The next morning David went to Lafferton in order to discuss the road +to the ruling of the people. + +"Whom would you suggest for manager of my campaign, Uncle Barnabas?" +he asked. + +"Knowles came to me and offered his services. Couldn't have a slicker +man, Dave." + +"None better in the state. I shouldn't have ventured to ask him." + +Janey was home for the summer, and on the first evening of his return +she and David sat together on the porch. + +"Oh, Davey," she said with a little sob, "Jud has come home again, and +they say he isn't just wild any more, but thoroughly bad." + +The tears in her eyes and the tremor in her tone stirred all his old +protective instinct for her. + +"Poor Jud! I'll see if I can't awaken some ambition in him for a +different life." + +"You've been very patient, Davey, but do try again. Every one is down +on him now but father and you and me. Aunt M'ri has let the Judge +prejudice her; Joe hasn't a particle of patience with him, and he +can't understand how I can have any, but you do, Davey. You understand +everything." + +They sat in silence, watching the stars pierce vividly through the +blackness of the sky, and presently his thoughts strayed from Jud and +from his fair young sister. In fancy he saw the queenly carriage of an +imperious little head, the mystery lurking in a pair of purple eyes, +and heard the cadence in an exquisite voice. + +The next morning he began the fight, and there was an incessant +cannonade from start to finish against the upstart boy nominee, who +proved to be an adversary of unremitting activity, the tact and +experience of Knowles making a fortified intrenchment for him. All of +David's friends rallied strongly to his support. Hume came from +Washington, Joe from the ranch, and Wilder from the East, his father +having a branch concern in the state. + +Through the long, hot summer the warfare waged, and by mid-autumn it +seemed a neck and neck contest--a contest so susceptible that the +merest breath might turn the tide at any moment. The week before the +election found David still resolute, grim, and determined. Instead of +being discouraged by adverse attacks he had gained new vigor from +each downthrow. All forces rendezvoused at the largest city in the +state for the final engagement. + +Three days before election he received a note in a handwriting that +had become familiar to him during the past year. With a rush of +surprise and pleasure he noted the city postmark. The note was very +brief, merely mentioning the hotel at which they were stopping and +asking him to call if he could spare a few moments from his campaign +work. + +In an incredibly short time after the receipt of this note he was at +the hotel, awaiting an answer to his card. He was shown to the sitting +room of the suite, and Carey opened the door to admit him. This was +not the little princess of his dreams, nor the charming young girl who +had talked so ingenuously with him before the Braden fireside. This +was a woman, stately yet gracious, vigorous yet exquisite. + +"I am glad we came home in time to see you elected," she said. "It is +a great honor, David, to be the governor of your state." + +There was a shade of deference in her manner to him which he realized +was due to the awe with which she regarded the dignity of his elective +office. This amused while it appealed to him. + +"We are on our way to California to spend the winter," she replied, in +answer to his eager question, "and father proposed stopping here until +after election." + +"You come in and out of my life like a comet," he complained +wistfully. + +Mrs. Winthrop came in, smiling and charming as ever. She was very +cordial to David, and interested in his campaign, but it seemed to him +that she was a little too gracious, as if she wished to impress him +with the fact that it was a concession to meet him on an equal social +footing. For Mrs. Winthrop was inclined to be of the world, worldly. + +"You have arrived at an auspicious time," he assured her. "To-night +the Democrats will have the biggest parade ever scheduled for this +city. Joe calls it the round-up." + +"Oh, is Joe here?" asked Carey eagerly. + +"Yes; and another friend of yours, Fletcher Wilder." + +"I knew that he was here," she said, with an odd little smile. + +"We had expected to see him in New York, and were surprised to learn +he was out here," said Mrs. Winthrop. + +"He came to help me in my campaign," informed David. + +"Fletcher interested in politics! How strange!" + +"His interest is purely personal. We were together in South America, +you know." + +"I am glad that you have a friend in him," said Mrs. Winthrop affably. +"The parade will pass here, and Fletcher is coming up, of course. Why +not come up, too, if you can spare the time?" + +"This is not my night," laughed David. "It's purely and simply a +Democratic night. I shall be pleased to come." + +"Bring Joe, too," reminded Carey. + +When Mr. Winthrop came in David had no doubt as to the welcome he +received from the head of the family. + +"A man's measure of a man," thought David, "is easily taken, and by +natural laws, but oh, for an understanding of the scales by which +women weigh! And yet it is they who hold the balance." + +"Fletcher and David and Joe are coming to-night to watch the parade +from here," said Carey. + +"You shall all dine with us," said Mr. Winthrop. + +"Thank you," replied David, "but--" + +"Oh, but you must," insisted Mrs. Winthrop, who always warmly seconded +any proffer of hospitality made by her husband. "Fletcher will dine +with us, of course. We can have a little dinner served here in our +rooms. Write a note to Mr. Forbes, Carey." + +The marked difference in type of her three guests as they entered the +sitting room that night struck Mrs. Winthrop forcibly. Joe, lean and +brown, with laughing eyes, was the typical frontiersman; Fletcher, +quiet and substantial looking, with his air of culture and ease and +his modulated voice, was the type of a city man; David--"What a man he +is!" she was forced to admit as he stood, head uplifted in the white +glare under the chandelier, the brilliant light shining upon his dark +hair, and his eyes glowing like stars. His lithe figure, perfect in +poise and balance, of virile strength that was toil-proof, wore the +look of the outdoor life. His smile banished everything that was +ordinary from his face and transmuted it into a glowing personality. +His eyes, serious with that insight of the observer who knows what is +going on without and within, were clear and steady. + +The table was laid for six in the sitting room, the flowers and +candles giving it a homelike look. + +As Mrs. Winthrop listened to the conversation between her husband and +David she was forced to admit that the young candidate for governor +was a man of mark. + +"I never knew a man without good birth to have such perfect breeding," +she thought. "He really appears as well as Fletcher, and, well, of +course, he has more temperament. If he could have been born on a +different plane," thinking of her long line of Virginia ancestors. + +She had ceded a great deal to her husband's and Carey's democracy, and +reserved many an unfavorable criticism of their friends and their +friends' ways with a tactfulness that had blinded their eyes to her +true feelings. Yet David knew instinctively her standpoint; she partly +suspected that he knew, and the knowledge did not disturb her; she +intuitively gauged his pride, and welcomed it, for a suitor of the +Fletcher Wilder station of life was more to her liking. + +Carey led David away from her father's political discourse, and +encouraged him to give reminiscences of old days. Joe told a few +inimitable western stories, and before the cozy little meal was +finished Mrs. Winthrop, though against her will, was feeling the +compelling force of David's winning sweetness. The sound of a distant +band hurried them from the table to the balcony. + +"They've certainly got a fair showing of floating banners and +transformations," said Joe. + +As the procession came nearer the face of the hardy ranchman flushed +crimson and his eyes flashed dangerously. He made a quick motion as +if to obstruct David's vision, but the young candidate had already +seen. He stood as if at bay, his face pale, his eyes riveted on those +floating banners which bore in flaming letters the inscriptions: + +"The father of David Dunne died in state prison!" + +"His mother was a washerwoman!" + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +The others were stricken into shocked silence which they were too +stunned for the moment to break. It was Fletcher who recovered first, +but then Fletcher was the only one present who did not know that the +words had struck home. + +"We mustn't wait another moment, David," he said emphatically, "to get +out sweeping denials and--" + +"We can't," said David wearily. "It is true." + +"Oh," responded Fletcher lamely. + +There was another silence. Something in David's voice and manner had +made the silence still more constrained. + +"I'll go down and smash their banners!" muttered Joe, who had not +dared to look in David's direction. + +Mr. Winthrop restrained him. + +"The matter will take care of itself," he counseled. + +It is mercifully granted that the intensity of present suffering is +not realized. Only in looking back comes the pang, and the wonder at +the seemingly passive endurance. + +Again David's memory was bridging the past to unveil that vivid +picture of the patient-eyed woman bending over the tub, and the pity +for her was hurting him more than the cruel banner which was flaunting +the fact before a jeering, applauding crowd. + +Mrs. Winthrop gave him a covert glance. She had great pride in her +lineage, and her well-laid plans for her daughter's future did not +include David Dunne in their scope, but she was ever responsive to +distress. + +Before the look in his eyes every sensation save that of sympathy left +her, and she went to him as she would have gone to a child of her own +that had been hurt. + +"David," she said tenderly, laying her hand on his arm, "any woman in +the world might be glad to take in washing to bring up a boy to be +such a man as you are!" + +Deeply moved and surprised, he looked into her brimming eyes and met +there the look he had sometimes seen in the eyes of his mother, of +M'ri, and once in the eyes of Janey. Moved by an irresistible impulse, +he stooped and kissed her. + +The situation was relieved of its tenseness. + +"I think, Joe," said David, speaking collectedly, "we had better go to +headquarters. Knowles will be looking for me." + +"Sure," assented Joe, eager to get into action. + +"Carey," said David in a low voice, as he was leaving. + +As she turned to him, an impetuous rush of new life leaped torrent-like +in his heart. Her eyes met his slowly, and for a moment he felt a +pleasure acute with the exquisiteness of pain. Such sensations are +usually transient, and in another moment he had himself well in hand. + +"I want to say good night," he said quietly, "and--" + +"Will you come here to-morrow at eleven?" she asked hurriedly. "There +is something I want to say to you." + +"I know that you are sorry for me." + +"That isn't what I mean to say." + +A wistful but imperious message was flashed to him from her eyes. + +"I will come," he replied gravely. + +When he reached headquarters he found the committee dismayed and +distracted. Like Wilder, they counseled a sweeping denial, but David +was firm. + +"It is true," he reiterated. + +"It will cost us the vote of a certain element," predicted the +chairman, "and we haven't one to spare." + +David listened to a series of similar sentiments until Knowles--a new +Knowles--came in. The usual blank placidity of his face was rippled by +radiant exultation. + +"David," he announced, "before that parade started to-night I had made +out another conservative estimate, and thought I could pull you +through by a slight majority. Now, it's different. While you may lose +some votes from the 'near-silk stocking' class, yet for every vote so +lost hundreds will rally to you. That all men are created equal is +still a truth held to be self-evident. The spark of the spirit that +prompted the Declaration of Independence is always ready to be fanned +to a flame, and the Democrats have furnished us the fans in their +flying pennants." + +David found no balm in this argument. All the wounds in his heart were +aching, and he could not bring his thoughts to majorities. He passed a +night of nerve-racking strain. The jeopardy of election did not +concern him. That night at the dinner party he had realized that he +had a formidable rival in Fletcher, who had a place firmly fixed in +the Winthrop household. Still, against odds, he had determined to woo +and win Carey. + +He had thought to tell her of his father's imprisonment under +softening influences. To have it flashed ruthlessly upon her in such a +way, and at such a time, made him shrink from asking her to link her +fate with his, and he decided to put her resolutely out of his life. + +Unwillingly, he went to keep his appointment with her the next +morning. He also dreaded an encounter with Mrs. Winthrop. He felt that +the reaction from her moment of womanly pity would strand her still +farther on the rocks of her worldliness. He was detained on his way to +the hotel so that it was nearly twelve when he arrived. It was a +relief to find Carey alone. There was an appealing look in her eyes; +but David felt that he could bear no expression of sympathy, and he +trusted she would obey the subtle message flashed from his own. + +With keen insight she read his unspoken appeal, but a high courage +dwelt in the spirit of the little Puritan of colonial ancestry, and +she summoned its full strength. + +"David," she asked, "did you think I was ignorant of your early life +until I read those banners last night?" + +"I thought," he said, flushing and taken by surprise, "that you might +have long ago heard something, but to have it recalled in so +sensational a way when you were entertaining me at dinner--" + +[Illustration: "_It was a relief to find Carey alone_"] + +"David, the first day I met you, when I was six years old, Mrs. +Randall told us of your father. I didn't know just what a prison was, +but I supposed it something very grand, and it widened the halo of +romance that my childish eyes had cast about you. The morning after +you had nominated Mr. Hume I saw your aunt at the hotel, and she told +me, for she said some day I might hear it from strangers and not +understand. When I saw those banners it was not so much sympathy for +you that distressed me; I was thinking of your mother, and regretting +that she could not be alive to hear you speak, and see what her +bravery had done for you." + +David had to summon all his control and his recollection of her +Virginia ancestors to refrain from telling her what was in his heart. +Mrs. Winthrop helped him by her entrance at this crucial point. + +"Good morning, David," she said suavely. "Carey, Fletcher is waiting +for you at the elevator. Your father stopped him. I told him you would +be out directly." + +"I had an engagement to drive with him," explained Carey. "I thought +you would come earlier." + +"I am due at a committee meeting," he said, in a courteous but aloof +manner. + +"We start in the morning, you know," she reminded him. "Won't you dine +here with us to-night?" + +"I am sorry," he refused. "It will be impossible." + +"Arthur is going to a club for luncheon," said Mrs. Winthrop, when +Carey had gone into the adjoining room, "and I shall be alone unless +you will take pity on my loneliness. I won't detain you a moment after +luncheon." + +"Thank you," he replied abstractedly. + +She smiled at the reluctance in his eyes. + +"David is going to stay to luncheon with me," she announced to Carey +as she came into the sitting room. + +David winced at the huge bunch of violets fastened to her muff. He +remembered with a pang that Fletcher had left him that morning to go +to a florist's. After she had gone Mrs. Winthrop turned suddenly +toward him, as he was gazing wistfully at the closed door. + +"David," she asked directly, "why did you refuse our invitation to +dine to-night?" + +"Why--you see--Mrs. Winthrop--with so many engagements--there is a +factory meeting at five--" + +"David, you are floundering! That is not like the frankly spoken boy +we used to know at Maplewood. I kept you to luncheon to tell you some +news that even Carey doesn't know yet. Mrs. Randall has written +insisting that we spend a week at Maplewood before we go West. As we +are in no special haste, I shall accept her hospitality." + +David made no reply, and she continued: + +"You are going home the day before election?" + +"Yes, Mrs. Winthrop," he replied. + +"We will go down with you, and I hope you will be neighborly while we +are in the country." + +The bewildered look in his eyes deepened, and then a heartrending +solution of her graciousness came to him. Fletcher and Carey were +doubtless engaged, and this fact made Mrs. Winthrop feel secure in +extending hospitality to him. + +"Thank you, Mrs. Winthrop," he said, a little bitterly. "You are very +kind." + +"David," she asked, giving him a searching look. "What is the matter? +I thought you would be pleased at the thought of our spending a week +among you all." + +He made a quick, desperate decision. + +"Mrs. Winthrop," he asked earnestly, "may I speak to you quite openly +and honestly?" + +"David Dunne, you couldn't speak any other way," she asserted, with a +gay little laugh. + +"I love Carey!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +This information seemingly conveyed no startling intelligence. + +"Well," replied Mrs. Winthrop, evidently awaiting a further +statement. + +"I haven't tried to win her love, nor have I told her that I love her, +because I knew that in your plans for her future you had never +included me. I know what you think about family, and I don't want to +make ill return for the courtesy and kindness you and Mr. Winthrop +have always shown me." + +"David, you have one rare trait--gratitude. I did have plans for +Carey--plans built on the basis of 'family'; but I have learned from +you that there are other things, like the trait I mentioned, for +instance, that count more than lineage. Before we went abroad I knew +Carey was interested in you, with the first flutter of a young girl's +fancy, and I was secretly antagonistic to that feeling. But last +night, David, I came to feel differently. I envied your mother when I +read those banners. If I had a son like you, I'd feel honored to take +in washing or anything else for him." + +At the look of ineffable sadness in his eyes her tears came. + +"David," she said gently, after a pause, "if you can win Carey's love, +I shall gladly give my consent." + +He thanked her incoherently, and was seized with an uncontrollable +longing to get away--to be alone with this great, unbelievable +happiness. In realization of his mood, she left him under pretext of +ordering the luncheon. On her return she found him exuberant, in a +flow of spirits and pleasantry. + +"Mrs. Winthrop," he said earnestly, as he was taking his departure, "I +am not going to tell Carey just yet that I love her." + +"As you wish, David. I shall not mention our conversation." + +She smiled as the door closed upon him. + +"Tell her! I wonder if he doesn't know that every time he looks at +her, or speaks her name, he tells her. But I suppose he has some +foolish mannish pride about waiting until he is governor." + +When David, in a voice vibrant with new-found gladness, finished an +eloquent address to a United Band of Workmen, he found Mr. Winthrop +waiting for him. + +"I was sent to bring you to the hotel to dine with us, David. My wife +told me of your conversation." + +Noting the look of apprehension in David's eyes, he continued: + +"Every time a suitor for Carey has crossed our threshold I've turned +cold at the thought of relinquishing my guardianship. With you it is +different; I can only quote Carey's childish remark--'with David I +would have no afraidments.'" + +A touch upon his shoulder prevented David's reply. He turned to find +Joe and Fletcher. + +"Knowles has been looking for you everywhere. He wants you to come to +headquarters at once." + +"Is it important?" asked David hesitatingly. + +"Important! Knowles! Say, David, have you forgotten that you are +running for governor?" + +Winthrop laughed appreciatively. + +"Go back to Knowles, David, and come to us when you can. We have no +iron-clad rules as to hours. Go with him, Joe, to be sure he doesn't +forget where he is going. Come with me, Fletcher." + +"It's too late to call now," remonstrated Joe, when David had finally +made his escape from headquarters. + +David muttered that time was made for slaves, and increased his pace. +When they reached the hotel Joe refused to go to the Winthrop's +apartment. + +David found Carey alone in the sitting room. + +"David," she asked, after one glance into his eyes, "what has changed +you? Good news from Mr. Knowles?" + +"No, Carey," he replied, his eyes growing luminous. "It was something +your mother said to me this morning." + +"Oh, I am glad. What was it she said?" + +"She told me," he evaded, "that you were going to visit the +Randalls." + +"And that is what makes you look so--cheered?" she persisted. + +"No, Carey. May I tell you at two o'clock in the afternoon, the day +after election?" + +She laughed delightedly. + +"That sounds like our childhood days. You used to put notes in the old +apple tree--do you remember?--asking Janey and me to meet you two +hours before sundown at the end of the picket fence." + +Further confidential conversation was prevented by the entrance of the +others. Joe had been captured, and Mrs. Winthrop had ordered a supper +served in the rooms. + +"Carey," asked her mother softly, when they were alone that night, +"did David tell you what a cozy little luncheon we had?" + +"He told me, mother, that you said something to him that made him very +happy, but he would not tell me what it was." + +Something in her mother's gaze made Carey lift her violets as a shield +to her face. + +"She knows!" thought Mrs. Winthrop. "But does she care?" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +At two o'clock on the day after David Dunne had been elected governor +by an overwhelming majority, he reined up at the open gate at the end +of the maple drive. His heart beat faster at the sight of the regal +little figure awaiting him. Her coat, furs, and hat were all of +white. + +He helped her into the carriage and seated himself beside her. + +"Have you been waiting long, and are you dressed quite warmly?" he +asked anxiously. + +"Yes, indeed; I thought you might keep me waiting at the gate, so I +put on my furs." + +The drive went on through the grounds to a sloping pasture, where it +became a rough roadway. The day was perfect. The sharp edges of +November were tempered by a bright sun, and the crisp air was +possessed of a profound quiet. When the pastoral stretches ended in +the woods, David stopped suddenly. + +"It must have been just about here," he said, reminiscently, as he +hitched the horse to a tree and held out his hand to Carey. They +walked on into the depths of the woods until they came to a fallen +tree. + +"Let us sit here," he suggested. + +She obeyed in silence. + +An early frost had snatched the glory from the trees, whose few brown +and sere leaves hung disconsolately on the branches. High above them +was an occasional skirmishing line of wild ducks. The deep stillness +was broken only by the scattering of nuts the scurrying squirrels were +harvesting, by the cry of startled wood birds, or by the wistful note +of a solitary, distant quail. + +"Do you remember that other--that first day we came here?" he asked. + +She glanced up at him quickly. + +"Is this really the place where we came and you told me stories?" + +"You were only six years old," he reminded her. "It doesn't seem +possible that you should remember." + +"It was the first time I had ever been in any kind of woods," she +explained, "and it was the first time I had ever played with a +grown-up boy. For a long time afterward, when I teased mother for a +story, she would tell me of 'The Day Carey Met David.'" + +"And do you remember nothing more about that day?" + +"Oh, yes; you made us some little chairs out of red sticks, and you +drew me here in a cart." + +"Can't you remember when you first laid eyes on me?" + +"No--yes, I remember. You drove a funny old horse, and I saw you +coming when I was waiting at the gate." + +"Yes, you were at the gate," he echoed, with a caressing note in his +voice. "You were dressed in white, as you are to-day, and that was my +first glimpse of the little princess. And because she was the only one +I had ever known, I thought of her for years as a princess of my +imagination who had no real existence." + +"But afterwards," she asked wistfully, "you didn't think of me as an +imaginary person, did you?" + +"Yes; you were hardly a reality until--" + +"Until the convention?" she asked disappointedly. + +"No; before that. It was in South America, when I began to write my +book, that you came to life and being in my thoughts. The tropical +land, the brilliant sunshine, the purple nights, the white stars, the +orchids, the balconies looking down upon fountained courts, all +invoked you. You answered, and crept into my book, and while we--you +and I--were writing it, it came to me suddenly and overwhelmingly that +the little princess was a living, breathing person, a woman who mayhap +would read my book some day and feel that it belonged to her. It was +so truly hers that I did not think it necessary to write the +dedication page. And she did read the book and she did know--didn't +she?" + +He looked down into her face, which had grown paler but infinitely +more lovely. + +"David, I didn't dare know. I wanted to think it was so." + +"Carey," his voice came deep and strong, his eyes beseeching, "we were +prince and princess in that enchanted land of childish dreams. Will +you make the dream a reality?" + + * * * * * + +"When, David," she asked him, "did you know that you loved, not the +little princess, but me, Carey?" + +"You make the right distinction in asking me when I _knew_ I loved +you. I loved you always, but I didn't know that I loved you, or how +much I loved you, until that night we sat before the fire at the +Bradens'." + +"And, David, tell me what mother said that day after the parade?" + +"She told me I had her consent to ask you--this!" + +"And why, David, did you wait until to-day?" + +"The knowledge that you were coming back here to Maplewood brought the +wish to make a reality of another dream--to meet you at the place +where I first saw you--to bring you here, where you clung to me for +the protection that is henceforth always yours. And now, Carey, it is +my turn to ask you a question. When did you first love me?" + +[Illustration: "_'Carey, will you make the dream a reality?'_"] + +"That first day I met you--here in the woods. My dream and my prince +were always realities to me." + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +The governor was indulging in the unwonted luxury of solitude in +his private sanctum of the executive offices. The long line of +politicians, office seekers, committees, and reporters had passed, +and he was supposed to have departed also, but after his exit he had +made a detour and returned to his private office. + +Then he sat down to face the knottiest problem that had as yet +confronted him in connection with his official duties. An important +act of the legislature awaited his signature or veto. Various pressing +matters called for immediate action, but they were mere trifles +compared to the issue pending upon an article he had read in a +bi-weekly paper from one of the country districts. The article stated +that a petition was being circulated to present to the governor, +praying the pardon and release of Jud Brumble. Then had begun the +great conflict in the mind of David Dunne, the "governor who could do +no wrong." It was not a conflict between right and wrong that was +being waged, for Jud had been one to the prison born. + +David reviewed the series of offenses Jud had perpetrated, punishment +for which had ever been evaded or shifted to accomplices. He recalled +the solemn promise the offender had made him long ago when, through +David's efforts, he had been acquitted--a promise swiftly broken and +followed by more daring transgressions, which had culminated in one +enormous crime. He had been given the full penalty--fifteen years--a +sentence in which a long-suffering community had rejoiced. + +Jud had made himself useful at times to a certain gang of ward heelers +and petty politicians, who were the instigators of this petition, +which they knew better than to present themselves. Had they done so, +David's course would have been plain and easy; but the petition was to +be conveyed directly and personally to the governor, so the article +read, by the prisoner's father, Barnabas Brumble. + +By this method of procedure the petitioners showed their cunning as +well as their knowledge of David Dunne. They knew that his sense of +gratitude was as strong as his sense of accurate justice, and that to +Barnabas he attributed his first start in life; that he had, in fact, +literally blazed the political trail that had led him from a country +lawyer to the governorship of his state. + +There were other ties, other reasons, of which these signers knew not, +that moved David to heed a petition for release should it be +presented. + +Again he seemed to see his mother's imploring eyes and to hear her +impressive voice. Again he felt around his neck the comforting, chubby +arms of the criminal's little sister. Her youthful guilelessness and +her inherent goodness had never recognized evil in her wayward +brother, and she would look confidently to "Davey" for service, as she +had done in the old days of country schools and meadow lanes. + +On the other hand, he, David Dunne, had taken a solemn oath to do his +duty, and his duty to the people, in the name of justice, was clear. +He owed it to them to show no leniency to Jud Brumble. + +So he hovered between base ingratitude to the man who had made +him, and who had never before asked a favor, and non-fulfillment of +duty to his people. It was a wage of head and heart. There had never +been moral compromises in his code. There had ever been a right and +a wrong--plain roads, with no middle course or diverging paths, but +now in his extremity he sought some means of evading the direct +issue. He looked for the convenient loophole of technicality--an +irregularity in the trial--but his legal knowledge forbade this +consideration after again going over the testimony and evidence of the +trial. The attorney for the defense had been compelled to admit +that his client had had a square deal. If only the petition might +be brought in the usual way, and presented to the pardon board, it +would not be allowed to reach the governor, as there was nothing in +the case to warrant consideration, but that was evidently not to be +the procedure. Barnabas would come to him and ask for Jud's release, +assuming naturally that his request would be willingly granted. + +If he pardoned Jud, all the popularity of the young governor would not +screen him from the public censure. One common sentiment of outrage +had been awakened by the crime, and the criminal had been universally +repudiated, but it was not from public censure or public criticism +that this young man with the strong under jaw shrank, but from the +knowledge that he would be betraying a trust. Gratitude and duty +pointed in different directions this time. + +With throbbing brain and racked nerves he made his evening call upon +Carey, who had come to be a clearing house for his troubles and who +was visiting the Bradens. She looked at him to-night with her eyes +full of the adoration a young girl gives to a man who has forged his +way to fame. + +He responded to her greeting abstractedly, and then said abruptly: + +"Carey, I am troubled to-night!" + +"I knew it before you came, David. I read the evening papers." + +"What!" he exclaimed in despair. "It's true, then! I have not seen the +papers to-night." + +She brought him the two evening papers of opposite politics. In +glowing headlines the Democratic paper told in exaggerated form the +story of his early life, his humble home, his days of struggle, his +start in politics, and his success, due to the father of the hardened +criminal. Would the governor do his duty and see that law and order +were maintained, or would he sacrifice the people to his personal +obligations? David smiled grimly as he reflected that either course +would be equally censured by this same paper. + +He took up the other journal, the organ of his party, which stated the +facts very much as the other paper had done, and added that Barnabas +Brumble was en route to the capital city for the purpose of asking a +pardon for his son. The editor, in another column, briefly and firmly +expressed his faith in the belief that David Dunne would be stanch in +his views of what was right and for the public welfare. + +There was one consolation; neither paper had profaned by public +mention the love of his boyhood days. + +"What shall I do! What should I do!" he asked himself in desperation. + +"I know what you will do," said Carey, quickly reading the unspoken +words. + +"What?" + +"You will do, as you always do--what you believe to be right. David, +tell me the story of those days." + +So from the background of his recollections he brought forward vividly +a picture of his early life, a story she had heard only from others. +He told her, too, of his boyish fancy for Janey. + +There was silence when he had finished. Carey looked into the +flickering light of the open fire with steady, musing eyes. It did not +hurt her in the least that he had had a love of long ago. It made him +but the more interesting, and appealed to her as a pretty and fitting +romance in his life. + +"It seems so hard, either way, David," she said looking up at him in a +sympathetic way. "To follow the dictates of duty is so cold and cruel +a way, yet if you follow the dictates of your heart your conscience +will accuse you. But you will, when you have to act, David, do what +you believe to be right, and abide by the consequences. Either way, +dear, is going to bring you unhappiness." + +"Which do you believe the right way, Carey?" he asked, looking +searchingly into her mystic eyes. + +"David," she replied helplessly, "I don't know! The more I think about +it, the more complicated the decision seems." + +They discussed the matter at length, and he went home comforted by the +thought that there was one who understood him, and who would abide in +faith by whatever decision he made. + +The next day, at the breakfast table, on the street, in his office, in +the curious, questioning faces of all he encountered, he read the +inquiry he was constantly asking himself and to which he had no answer +ready. When he finally reached his office he summoned his private +secretary. + +"Major, don't let in any more people than is absolutely necessary +to-day. I will see no reporters. You can tell them that no petition or +request for the pardon of Jud Bramble has been received, if they ask, +and oh, Major!" + +The secretary turned expectantly. + +"If Barnabas Brumble comes, of course he is to be admitted at once." + +Later in the morning the messenger to the governor stood at the window +of the business office, idly looking out. + +"Dollars to doughnuts," he exclaimed suddenly and confidently, "that +this is Barnabas Brumble coming up the front walk!" + +The secretary hastened to the window. A grizzled old man in +butternut-colored, tightly buttoned overcoat, and carrying a telescope +bag, was ascending the steps. + +"I don't know why you think so," said the secretary resentfully to the +boy. "Barnabas Brumble isn't the only farmer in the world. Sometimes," +he added, pursuing a train of thought beyond the boy's knowledge, "it +seems as if no one but farmers came into this capitol nowadays." + +A few moments later one of the guards ushered into the executive +office the old man carrying the telescope. The secretary caught the +infection of the boy's belief. + +"What can I do for you?" he asked courteously. + +"I want to see the guvner," replied the old man in a curt tone. + +"Your name?" asked the secretary. + +"Barnabas Brumble," was the terse response. + +He had not read the newspapers for a week past, and so he could hardly +know the importance attached to his name in the ears of those +assembled. The click of the typewriters ceased, the executive clerk +looked quickly up from his papers, the messenger assumed a triumphant +pose, and the janitor peered curiously in from an outer room. + +"Come this way, Mr. Brumble," said the secretary deferentially, as he +passed to the end of the room and knocked at a closed door. + +David Dunne knew, when he heard the knock, to whom he would open the +door, and he was glad the strain of suspense was ended. But when he +looked into the familiar face a host of old memories crowded in upon +his recollection, and obliterated the significance of the call. + +"Uncle Barnabas!" he said, extending a cordial hand to the visitor, +while his stern, strong face softened under his slow, sweet smile. +Then he turned to his secretary. + +"Admit no one else, Major." + +David took the telescope from his guest and set it on the table, +wondering if it contained the "documents in evidence." + +"Take off your coat, Uncle Barnabas. They keep it pretty warm in +here!" + +"I callate they do--in more ways than one," chuckled Barnabas, +removing his coat. "I hed to start purty early this mornin', when it +was cool-like. Wal, Dave, times has changed! To think of little Dave +Dunne bein' guvner! I never seemed to take it in till I come up them +front steps." + +The governor laughed. + +"Sometimes I don't seem to take it in myself, but _you_ ought to, +Uncle Barnabas. You put me here!" + +As he spoke he unlocked a little cabinet and produced a bottle and a +couple of glasses. + +"Wal, I do declar, ef you don't hev things as handy as a pocket in a +shirt! Good stuff, Dave! More warmin' than my old coat, I reckon, but +say, Dave, what do you s'pose I hev got in that air telescope?" + +David winced. In olden times the old man ever came straight to the +point, as he was doing now. + +"Why, what is it, Uncle Barnabas?" + +"Open it!" directed the old man laconically. + +With the feeling that he was opening his coffin, David unstrapped the +telescope and lifted the cover. A little exclamation of pleasure +escaped him. The telescope held big red apples, and it held nothing +more. David quickly bit into one. + +"I know from just which particular tree these come," he said, "from +that humped, old one in the corner of the orchard nearest the house." + +"Yes," allowed Barnabas, "that's jest the one--the one under which you +and her allers set and purtended you were studyin' your lessons." + +David's eyes grew luminous in reminiscence. + +"I haven't forgotten the tree--or her--or the old days, Uncle +Barnabas." + +"I knowed you hadn't, Dave!" + +Again David's heart sank at the confidence in the tone which betokened +the faith reposed, but he would give the old man a good time anyway +before he took his destiny by the throat. + +"Wouldn't you like to go through the capitol?" he asked. + +"I be goin'. The feller that brung me up here sed he'd show me +through." + +"I'll show you through," said David decisively, and together they went +through the places of interest in the building, the governor as proud +as a newly domiciled man showing off his possessions. At last they +came to the room where in glass cases reposed the old, unfurled battle +flags. The old man stopped before one case and looked long and +reverently within. + +"Which was your regiment, Uncle Barnabas?" + +"Forty-seventh Infantry. I kerried that air flag at the Battle of the +Wilderness." + +David called to a guard and obtained a key to the case. Opening it, he +bade the old man take out the flag. + +With trembling hands Barnabas took out the flag he had followed when +his country went to war. He gazed at it in silence, and then restored +it carefully to its place. As they walked away, he brushed his coat +sleeve hastily across his dimmed eyes. + +David consulted his watch. + +"It's luncheon time, Uncle Barnabas. We'll go over to my hotel. The +executive mansion is undergoing repairs." + +"I want more'n a lunch, Dave! I ain't et nuthin' sence four o'clock +this mornin'." + +"I'll see that you get enough to eat," laughed David. + +In the lobby of the hotel a reporter came quickly up to them. + +"How are you, governor?" he asked, with his eyes fastened falcon-like +on Barnabas. + +David returned the salutation and presented his companion. + +"Mr. Brumble from Lafferton?" asked the reporter, with an insinuating +emphasis on the name of the town. + +"Yes," replied the old man in surprise. "I don't seem to reckleck +seein' you before." + +"I never met you, but I have heard of you. May I ask what your +business in the city is, Mr. Brumble?" + +The old man gave him a keen glance from beneath his shaggy brows. + +"Wal, I don't know as thar's any law agin your askin'! I came to see +the guvner." + +David, with a laugh of pure delight at the discomfiture of the +reporter, led the way to the dining room. + +"You're as foxy as ever, Uncle Barnabas. You routed that newspaper man +in good shape." + +"So that's what he was! I didn't know but he was one of them +three-card-monty sharks. Wal, I s'pose it's his trade to ask +questions." + +Barnabas' loquacity always ceased entirely at meal times, so his +silence throughout the luncheon was not surprising to David. + +"Wal, Dave," he said as he finished, "ef this is your lunch I'd hate +to hev to eat what you'd call dinner. I never et so much before at one +settin'!" + +"We'll go over to the club now and have a smoke," suggested David. +"Then you can go back to my office with me and see what I have to +undergo every afternoon." + +At the club they met several of David's friends--not politicians--who +met Barnabas with courtesy and composure. When they returned to +David's private office Barnabas was ensconced comfortably in an +armchair while David listened with patience to the long line of +importuners, each receiving due consideration. The last interview was +not especially interesting and Barnabas' attention was diverted. His +eyes fell on a newspaper, which he picked up carelessly. It was the +issue of the night before, and his own name was conspicuous in big +type. He read the article through and returned the paper to its place +without being observed by David, whose back was turned to him. + +"Wal, Dave," he said, when the last of the line had left the room, "I +used ter think I'd ruther do enything than be a skule teacher, but I +swan ef you don't hev it wuss yet!" + +David made no response. The excitement of his boyish pleasure in +showing Uncle Barnabas about had died away as he listened to the +troubles and demands of his callers, and now the recollection of the +old man's errand confronted him in full force. + +Barnabas looked at him keenly. + +"Dave," he said slowly, "'t ain't no snap you hev got! I never knowed +till to-day jest what it meant to you. I'm proud of you, Dave! I +wish--I wish you hed been my son!" + +The governor arose impetuously and crossed the room. + +"I would have been, Uncle Barnabas, if she had not cared for Joe!" + +"I know it, Dave, but you hev a sweet little gal who will make you +happy." + +The governor's face lighted in a look of exquisite happiness. + +"I have, Uncle Barnabas. We will go to see her this evening." + +"I'd like to see her, sartain. Hain't seen her sence the night you +was elected. And, Dave," with a sheepish grin, "I'm a-goin' to git +spliced myself." + +"What? No! May I guess, Uncle Barnabas--Miss Rhody?" + +"Dave, you air a knowin' one. Yes, it's her! Whenever we set down to +our full table I got to thinkin' of that poor little woman a-settin' +down alone, and I've never yet knowed a woman livin' alone to feed +right. They allers eat bean soup or prunes, and call it a meal." + +"I am more glad than I can tell you, Uncle Barnabas, and I shall +insist on giving the bride away. But what will Penny think about some +one stepping in?" + +"Wal, Dave, I'll allow I wuz skeered to tell Penny, and it tuk a hull +lot of bracin' to do it, and what do you suppose she sed? She sez, +'I've bin wantin' tew quit these six years, and now, thank the Lord, +I've got the chance.'" + +"Why, what in the world did she want to leave for?" + +"I guess you'll be surprised when I tell you. To marry Larimy +Sasser!" + +"Uncle Larimy! She'll scour him out of house and home," laughed +David. + +"We'll hev both weddin's to the same time. Joe and Janey are a-comin', +and we'll hev a grand time. I hain't much on the write, Dave, and I've +allers meant to see you here in this great place. Some of the boys sez +to me: 'Mebby Dave's got stuck on himself and his job by this time, +and you'll hev to send in yer keerd by a nigger fust afore you kin see +him,' but I sez, 'No! Not David Dunne! He ain't that kind and never +will be.' So when I go back I kin tell them how you showed me all over +the place, and tuk me to eat at a hotel and to that air stylish place +where I wuz treated like a king by yer friends. I've never found you +wantin', Dave, and I never expect to!" + +"Uncle Barnabas," began David, "I--" + +His voice suddenly failed him. + +"See here, Dave! I didn't know nuthin' about that," pointing to the +newspaper, "until a few minutes ago. I sed tew hum that I wuz a-comin' +to see how Dave run things, and ef them disreptible associates of +Jud's air a-gittin' up some fool paper, I don't know it! Ef they do +send it in, don't you dare sign it! Why, I wouldn't hev that boy outen +prison fer nuthin'. He's different from what he used to be, Dave. He +got so low he would hev to reach up ter touch bottom. He's ez low ez +they git, and he's dangerous. I didn't know an easy minute fer the +last two years afore he wuz sent up, so keep him behind them bars fer +fear he'll dew somethin' wuss when he gits out. Don't you dare sign no +petition, Dave!" + +Tears of relief sprang into the strong eyes of the governor. + +"Why, Dave," said the old man in shocked tones, "you didn't go fer to +think fer a minute I'd ask you to let him out cause he wuz my son? +Even ef I hed a wanted him out, and Lord knows I don't, I'd not ask +you to do somethin' wrong, no more'n I'd bring dishoner to that old +flag I held this mornin'!" + +David grasped his hand. + +"Uncle Barnabas!" + +His voice broke with emotion. Then he murmured: "We'll go to see +_her_, now." + +As they passed out into the corridor a reporter hastened up to them. + +"Governor," he asked, with impudent directness, "are you going to +pardon Jud Bramble?" + +Before David could reply, Barnabas stepped forward: + +"Young feller, thar hain't no pardon ben asked fer Jud Brumble, and +what's more, thar hain't a-goin' to be none asked--not by me. I come +down here to pay my respecks to the guvner, and to bring him a few +apples, and you kin say so ef you wanter!" + +When Carey came into the library where her two callers awaited her, +one glance into the divine light of David's deepening, glowing eyes +told her what she wanted to know. + +With a soft little cry she went to Barnabas, who was holding out his +hand in welcome. Impulsively her lips were pressed against his +withered cheek, and he took her in his arms as he might have taken +Janey. + +"Why, Carey!" he said delightedly, "Dave's little gal!" + + + + * * * * * + + + +AN ANNOUNCEMENT + +of New Books + +Love in a Mask. Honore de Balzac + +A discovery in the world of literature, a story of +daring and piquant interest. Price . . . . $1.00 net. + +Betty Moore's Journal. Mrs. Mabel D. Carry + +A gallant little charge for the rights of motherhood +among the wealthy indifferent, and from a most +important viewpoint. Price . . . . . . . . $1.00 net. + +The Joy of Gardens. 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