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diff --git a/29319-h/29319-h.htm b/29319-h/29319-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b77ad58 --- /dev/null +++ b/29319-h/29319-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5536 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Trimming of Goosie, by James Hopper. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +h1,h2 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; +} + +p.psmall { + margin-top: .75em; + text-align: center; + margin-bottom: .75em; + font-size: 90%; +} + +.plarge { + text-align: center; + font-size: 120%; +} + +a:link { text-decoration: none; + color: #000000; +} +a:visited{ text-decoration: none; + color: #B22222; +} +a:hover{ text-decoration: none; + color: #0000ff; +} +a:active{ text-decoration: none; + color: #000000; +} + +p.cap {text-indent: 0em; padding-top: 0.5em;} +p.cap:first-letter { float: left; /* drop caps */ + margin: 1px 3px 0px 0px; + width: 1em; + padding: 0px; + line-height: .8em; font-size: 300%; + /* html for first letter = p class="cap" */ + } + +hr { + width: 65%; + margin-top: .5em; + margin-bottom: .5em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; +} + +dt { + margin-top: 1em; + font-weight: 600; + margin-left: .5em; + font-size: 110% +} + +.pagenum {/* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /*visibility: hidden;*/ + position: absolute; + left: 95%; + font-size: 10px; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; + font-style: normal; + letter-spacing: normal; + text-indent: 0em; + text-align: right; + color: #999999; + background-color: #ffffff; +} /* page numbers */ + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; + text-indent: 1em; +} + +.signoff { + margin-left: 15%; +} + +.bbox {border: solid 2px; + padding-left: 5%; + padding-right: 5%; + padding-top: 2em; + padding-bottom: 2em; +} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +/* Images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; +} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Trimming of Goosie, by James Hopper + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Trimming of Goosie + +Author: James Hopper + +Release Date: July 5, 2009 [EBook #29319] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TRIMMING OF GOOSIE *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, Jen Haines and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 550px;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="365" height="600" +alt="THE TRIMMING of GOOSIE by JAMES HOPPER" +title="THE TRIMMING of GOOSIE by JAMES HOPPER" /> +</div> + +<h1><br /><br /><br />The<br /> +Trimming of Goosie<br /><br /><br /><br /></h1> + +<p class="center">BY<br /> +JAMES HOPPER<br /></p> +<p class="psmall">Author of "Caybigan," "9009," etc.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="center"><br /><br /><br />NEW YORK<br /> +MOFFAT, YARD AND COMPANY<br /> +1909<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="psmall"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1909, by</span> +<br />CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY</p> + +<p class="psmall"><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1909, by</span> +<br />MOFFAT, YARD AND COMPANY<br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="psmall">Published, September, 1909</p> + +<p class="psmall">THE QUINN & BODEN CO. PRESS<br /> +RAHWAY, N.J.<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;"> +<div style="text-align: left"> +<a href="#CHAPTER_I"><b>CHAPTER I</b></a><br /> + +<a href="#CHAPTER_II"><b>CHAPTER II</b></a><br /> + +<a href="#CHAPTER_III"><b>CHAPTER III</b></a><br /> + +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV"><b>CHAPTER IV</b></a><br /> + +<a href="#CHAPTER_V"><b>CHAPTER V</b></a><br /> + +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI"><b>CHAPTER VI</b></a><br /> + +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII"><b>CHAPTER VII</b></a><br /> + +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"><b>CHAPTER VIII</b></a><br /> + +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX"><b>CHAPTER IX</b></a><br /> + +<a href="#CHAPTER_X"><b>CHAPTER X</b></a><br /> + +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI"><b>CHAPTER XI</b></a><br /> + +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII"><b>CHAPTER XII</b></a><br /> + +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII"><b>CHAPTER XIII</b></a><br /> + +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV"><b>CHAPTER XIV</b></a><br /> + +<a href="#CHAPTER_XV"><b>CHAPTER XV</b></a><br /> + +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI"><b>CHAPTER XVI</b></a><br /> + +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII"><b>CHAPTER XVII</b></a><br /> + +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII"><b>CHAPTER XVIII</b></a><br /> +<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> +</div> +</div> + +<h2>THE TRIMMING OF GOOSIE</h2> + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> + +<p class="cap">"Why, Goosie, what are you doing?"</p> + +<p>Goosie, otherwise Mr. Charles-Norton +Sims, dropped his arms hastily +down his sides and stood very still, caged in the +narrow space between porcelain tub and gleaming +towel-rack. The mirror before which he had +been performing his morning calisthenics faced +him uncompromisingly; it showed him that he +was blushing. The sight increased his embarrassment. +For a moment panic went bounding +and rebounding swiftly in painted contagion +from Goosie to the mirror, from the mirror to +Goosie; the blush, at first faint on Charles-Norton's +brow, flamed, spread over his face, down +his neck, fell in cascade along his broad shoulders, +and then rippled down his satiny skin clear +to the barrier of the swimming trunks tight +about his waist. It was some time before he +mustered the courage to turn his foolish face<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> +toward the door through which had sounded the +cooing cry of his little wife.</p> + +<p>The door was but a few inches a-jar; it let +pass only the round little nose of the round little +wife, between two wide-open blue-flowers of eyes. +"What are you doing, Goosie?" she repeated in +a tone slightly amused but rich with a large tolerance; +"what are you doing, Goosie, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing, Dolly," he answered, his straight, +athletic body a bit gawky with embarrassment; +"nothing."</p> + +<p>Then, as she peered, still doubtful, through +the crack: "It's a new exercise I have—a dandy. +See?"</p> + +<p>And lamely he placed both his hands beneath +his armpits and waved his elbows up and down +three times.</p> + +<p>"Oh," she said, as if satisfied.</p> + +<p>But, as a matter of fact, this was not the accurate +repetition of what she had seen. He had +been standing before the mirror very straight, +then, a-tip-toe, his chest bulging; his arms, bent +with hands beneath the shoulders, had been beating +up and down with a rapidity that made of +them a mere white vibration, their tattoo upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> +his ribs like the beating of a drum; and suddenly, +as if to some singular ecstasy, his head had gone +back and out of his rounded mouth there had +clarioned a clear cock-a-doo-del-doo-oo, much like +that of chanticleer heralding the sun.</p> + +<p>"It's fine—it's fine for the pectoral muscles," +he went on, more firmly.</p> + +<p>"Well," she said charitably, "jump into your +bath, quick, dear. Breakfast is ready, and you'll +be late at the office again if you don't hurry." +She closed the door softly upon him.</p> + +<p>It was seldom that she intruded thus upon the +mystery of his morning hygienics. It was with +a clothed Charles-Norton that she had first fallen +in love; and like most women (who, being +practical, realize that, since it is dressed, after +all, that men go through the world, it is dressed +that they must be judged) Dolly appreciated +her handsome young husband best in his broad-shouldered +sack-coat and well-creased trousers.</p> + +<p>Charles-Norton, still rather abashed, dropped +into the cold green tub, splashed, rubbed down, +dressed, and sat down to breakfast. As he ate +his waffles, though, out of the blue breakfast set +which Dolly's charming, puzzle-browed economy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> +had managed to extort from the recalcitrant +family budget, his usual glowing loquacity of +after-the-bath was lacking. His eyes wandered +furtively about the little encumbered +room; thoughts, visibly, rolled within his head +which did not find his lips. And when he bade +Dolly good-by, on the fifth-story landing, she +missed in his kiss the usual warm linger.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> + +<hr /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap">When Charles-Norton reached the street, +a narrow side-street in which like a +glacier the ice of the whole winter was +still heaped, a whiff of soft air, perfumed with +a suspicion of spring, struck him gently in the +face. He drew it in deep within his lungs, and +exhaled it in a long sigh. And then he stopped +abruptly, and was standing very still, listening; +listening to this sigh, to the echo of it still within +his consciousness, as if testing it. He shook his +head disapprovingly. "Gee," he said; "hope I'm +not getting discontented again!"</p> + +<p>As if in response, another gentle gust came +down the street; he caught it as it came and drew +it deep within him. His chest swelled, his eyes +brightened. And then suddenly he tensed; he +rose a-tip-toe, heels close together, his head went +back; his hands stole to his armpits, and his elbows +began to wave up and down.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p> +<p>"Good Lord!" he ejaculated, catching himself +up sharply; "here goes that darned flapping +again!"</p> + +<p>He looked up and down the street, assuming a +negligent attitude. His forehead was red. +"Nope," he said. No one had seen him. "<i>She</i> +saw me this morning," he thought, and the red +of his forehead came down to his cheeks. "It's +getting worse; a regular habit. Let me see—two, +three; it began three weeks ago——"</p> + +<p>He shook his head perplexedly and resumed his +way toward the Elevated station.</p> + +<p>"It may have been all right when I was a +boy," he said to himself as he swung along. +"But now!</p> + +<p>"Let me see. I was fourteen, the first time."</p> + +<p>A picture rose before his eyes. It had happened +in a far western land—a land that now +remained in his memory as a pool of gold beneath +a turquoise sky. He was lying there in +the wild oats, upon his back, and above him in +the sky a hawk circled free. He watched it long +thus, relaxed in a sort of droning somnolence; +then suddenly, to a particularly fine spiral of +the bird in the air, something like a convulsion +had shot through his body, and he had found +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> +himself erect, head back and chest forward, his +arms flapping——</p> + +<p>"'Twas the day before I ran away with the +circus," he soliloquized in the midst of the throng +milling up the Elevated station stairs. "And +later, when I had come back from the circus, I +took that long bum on brake-beams. And when +I had come back from that, a little later I went +off in the forecastle of the 'Tropic Bird' to +Tahiti. And each time that flapping business +came first. Every time I've done something wild +and foolish, I've flapped first like this. First I'd +flap, then I'd feel like doing something, I +wouldn't know what, then I'd do it—and it would +be something foolish——"</p> + +<p>The train slid up to the platform; he boarded +it and by some miracle found on the bench behind +the door of the last car a narrow space in +which he squeezed himself.</p> + +<p>"I'll have to stop it," he said decisively.</p> + +<p>He drew from his breast pocket a note-book +and a pencil. Opening the book out across +his knees, he bent over it and began to draw. He +worked with concentration, but seemingly with +little result, for he drew only detached lines. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> +There were spirals, circles, ovals, parabolas; +lines that curved upward, broke, and curved +again downward, like gothic arches; lines that +curved in gentle languor; lines that breathed +like the undulations of a peaceful sea; and then +just zipping, swift, straight lines that shot up to +the upper end of the paper and seemed to continue +invisibly toward an altitudinous nowhere. +This is all he drew, and yet as he worked there +was in his face the set of stubborn purpose, +and in his eyes the glow of aspiration. He tried +to make each line beautiful and firm and swift +and pure. When he succeeded, he felt within +him the bubbling of a sweet contentment. This +would be followed by dissatisfaction, renewed +yearning—and he would begin again.</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" he muttered in sudden consternation, +straightening away from the book.</p> + +<p>And then, "They began at the same time."</p> + +<p>And a moment later, "And they are the +same."</p> + +<p>It had struck him abruptly that the strange +urge which made him draw lines was like that +which at times convulsed his body into that mysterious +manifestation which, for the want of a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +better word, he called his "flapping." The two +things had begun together, and they were of the +same essence. The impulse which possessed him +as he tried for beauty with paper and pencil was +the same which swelled his lungs and his heart, +which made him rise a-tip-toe and wave his arms. +It came from a feeling of subtle and inexplicable +dissatisfaction; it was made of a vague and vast +longing. It was the same which, when a boy, had +sent him to the brake-beam, the circus, and the +sea; it was to be distrusted.</p> + +<p>He slammed the book shut and put it in his +pocket. "No more of this," he said.</p> + +<p>A certain confidence, though, came gradually +into his eyes. "After all, these things do not +mean much now," he thought. "I was a boy, +then, and unhappy. I am a man, now, and +happy."</p> + +<p>His mind idled back over the two years since +his marriage, over the warm coziness of the last +two years. What a wife, this little Dolly! What +a little swaddler! She wrapped up everything +as in cotton—all the asperities of Life, and the +asperities of Charles-Norton himself also. Gone +for the two years had been the old uncertainties, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> +the vague tumults, the blind surges. Yes, he was +happy.</p> + +<p>This word happy, for the second time on his +tongue, set him a-dreaming. A picture came +floating before his eyes. And curiously enough, +it was not of Dolly, nor of the padded little +flat——</p> + +<p>It was of a boy, a boy in blue overalls and +cotton shirt, lying on his back amid the wild +oats of a golden land, his eyes to the sky, watching +up there the free wide circle of a hawk——</p> + +<p>"Soy, Mister, wot the deuce do you think +you're doing?" shouted a husky and protesting +voice in his ear.</p> + +<p>And Charles-Norton came back precipitously +to the present. By his side a pale youth was +squirming indignantly. Charles-Norton's elbow +was in the youth's ribs, and his elbow was still +stirring with the last oscillation of the movement +that had agitated it. "Soy," cried the +youth in disgust; "d'yous think you's a +chicken?"</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," said Charles-Norton, in +an agony of humility; "I beg your pardon."</p> + +<p>But the youth refused to be mollified. Though<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +he said nothing more, he kept upon Charles-Norton +the snarl of his pale face and at regular intervals +rubbed his ribs as though they pained +him exceedingly. Charles-Norton was glad to +reach his station.</p> + +<p>That morning, in his glass cage, he muddled +his columns several times. He was far from an +admirable accountant at his best; but this day +he was what he termed "the limit." Totals fled +him like birds, with a whir of wings. A sun-gleam +hypnotized him once, for he did not know +how long; and his nose, a little later, followed +for several gymnastic minutes the flutter of a +white moth.</p> + +<p>At lunch, in Konrad's Bakery, he found himself +seated, by a singular chance, next to the very +same youth whose ribs he had crushed on the +Elevated a few hours before. The young man +was in more amiable mood. He grinned. "Don't +you flap again and spill me coffee, Mr. Chicken," +he said, with delicate persiflage.</p> + +<p>"I won't," said Charles-Norton. "I'll buy +you another cup if I do."</p> + +<p>"Got a dollar?" asked the youth, irrelevantly. +His thin, pale nose quivered a bit.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p> +<p>"I don't know," said Charles-Norton, hesitatingly. +Dollars were big in his budget. "Why?"</p> + +<p>The youth drew from a pocket a yellow cardboard. +"Got a lottery ticket I want to sell," +he said easily. "Little Texas. Hundred +Thousand first prize and lots of other prizes. +Got to sell it to pay me lunch. Played the +ponies yesterday."</p> + +<p>Charles-Norton eyed the ticket doubtfully. +Usually, he would not have considered the matter +a moment. But somehow the incident of the +morning had placed him at a disadvantage toward +the pale youth. Vaguely he was moved +by a wish to regain by some act the respect of +this exacting person. He bought the ticket.</p> + +<p>"Maybe this was the foolish act that all this +flapping announced," he said to himself, once +outside, in answer to a not uncertain prick of +his marital conscience. "Buying this ticket is +like buying a lightning-rod; it may draw off the +lightning!"</p> + +<p>But his singular malady, during the afternoon, +did not disappear. It waxed, in fact; it +passed the borders of the spiritual and assumed +physical symptoms. "Dolly," he said, when he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> +was again within the warmth of the little flat +in the evening; "Dolly, would you mind looking +at my shoulders after a while?"</p> + +<p>"Why, of course, I'll look at them, Goosie," +answered Dolly, immediately alert at the possibility +of doing something for the big man; "what +is the matter with your shoulders, Goosie?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," he said, sinking a bit wearily +into the Morris chair. "They pain; just like +rheumatism or growing pain. And they tickle +too, Dolly; they tickle all the time." He crossed +his arms, raising a hand to each shoulder, and +rubbed them with a shiver of delight. "It's a +nuisance," he said.</p> + +<p>"Well, we'll see about it right away," said +Dolly. "Right after supper." Her eyes grew +big with concern. "You may have caught cold. +Come on, dear," she said, brightening; "I've the +dandiest, deliciousest soup, right out of the +<i>Ladies' Home Journal</i>, for you!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> + + +<hr /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cap">"Why, Goosie; I tell you the lumps are +growing. They're great big now, +Goosie. Oh, why don't you let me +take you to the doctor! I <i>know</i> something is the +matter!"</p> + +<p>Dolly had tears in her eyes almost, and her +voice was very dolorous. For the fourteenth +time in two weeks, she was treating the singular +shoulders of Charles-Norton. He was sitting +beneath the glow of the evening lamp, his +coat off, his shirt pulled down to his elbows; and +she, standing behind the chair, was leaning solicitously +over him. A wisp of her hair caressed +his right ear, but somehow did not relax his temper. +"Well, let them alone, Dolly," he growled; +"let them alone. Good Lord, let them alone!"</p> + +<p>For two weeks he had been getting more and +more peevish. To be sure, for two weeks, daily, +his shoulders had been washed and rubbed and +massaged and lotioned and parboiled and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> +anointed and fomented and capsicon-plastered, +till his very soul was sensitive and a suspicion +was agrowl within him—a bad, mean feeling that +Dolly was finding a bit, just a bit, of something +akin to pleasure in the ardor of her ministrations. +Besides, he was fighting a moral fight of +his own. Great bursts of dissatisfaction swept +through him every day now; and it was only by +a constant vigilance that he kept his vagrant elbows +close to his ribs.</p> + +<p>"Let them be for a while, Dolly," he repeated +in gentler tone. "Besides—besides——"</p> + +<p>But he left unsaid the thought following the +"besides." "Now, dear," said Dolly, kindly, but +with a certain firmness; "you've simply got to +let me see what I can do. Why, Goosie, you can't +go on in this way! You'd be getting humps on +your back! No—no; we'll try a nice little ice-pack +to-night."</p> + +<p>"I don't want any ice-packs!" yelped Charles-Norton +(what a bad-mannered young man he +had become!); "I'm tired of fomentations and +things! Besides"—and this time the besides did +not pause, but burst out of him like a stream +from a high-pressure hydrant—"besides, it isn't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> +what I want——" And to an irresistible impulse +his right hand reached out for a brush and, crossing +over to his left shoulder, began rubbing it +vigorously.</p> + +<p>"Goosie, Goosie, my clothes-brush, my best +clothes-brush!"</p> + +<p>But the lament in Dolly's voice had little +effect upon Charles-Norton. He was brushing +himself with grave concentration. "Get the +flesh-brush," he mumbled between set teeth, rubbing +the while; "Gee, this feels good. Get the +pack to-night."</p> + +<p>Dolly ran into the bath-room and returned +with the flesh-brush; Charles-Norton made an +exchange without losing a stroke. "That's something +like it," he murmured.</p> + +<p>"But, Goosie," began Dolly. Her voice was +low now; she stood withdrawn from him as if a +bit afraid; her hands were clasped and her lips +trembled. "Goosie, dear; don't do that. Oh, +don't; you'll hurt yourself. It's getting all red, +Goosie. You're rubbing the skin off, I tell you. +Why, it's almost bleeding—Goosie, Goosie, stop +it, stop it!"</p> + +<p>"Feels lots better," he said unfeelingly. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>"Look at it." And transferring the brush to +his left hand, he began to rub the right +shoulder, raising his left for Dolly's inspection.</p> + +<p>She approached timidly. "You've rubbed all +the poor skin off," she announced. "It's bleeding." +He felt the light touch of her fingers. +"Why, Goosie—there's something—something. +Why, Goosie!"</p> + +<p>The last was almost a cry, and the silence that +followed had an awe-stricken pulse. "What is +it?" he asked, still busily brushing.</p> + +<p>"Why, there's something"—again he felt the +tender touch of her fingers—"there're a lot of +little things—a lot of little things pricking right +through the skin!"</p> + +<p>"Let me rub it some more," he said, transferring +the brush. "Now, look at it," he said, after +several more vigorous minutes of his strange +treatment.</p> + +<p>"Goosie!"</p> + +<p>This time it was a cry to stab the heart. He +dropped the brush and looked up at her. She +was pale, and her eyes were very big. "Well, +what is the matter now," he asked impatiently.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p> +<p>She came near again, still pale, but with lips +tight. "A-ouch!" he yelped.</p> + +<p>For with a sudden sharp movement, she had +plucked something out of his shoulder. A smart +came into his eyes; it was as if a lock of hair had +been pulled out by the roots. "Look at this, +Goosie," she said with forced calmness, and +placed something in his hand.</p> + +<p>It was very small and very soft. He dropped +his eyes upon it as it lay lightly in his palm. +"Good lord!" he ejaculated, his bad humor gone +suddenly into a genuine concern; "Good Lord!" +he said, rising to his feet in consternation; "it's +a; it's a——"</p> + +<p>"It's a feather," said Dolly, with sepulchral +finality; "it's a feather."</p> + +<p>It was a feather—a soft, downy, white, baby +feather. Charles-Norton looked at it long, +as it lay, shivering slightly, there in his palm. +He took it up and passed the luster of it slowly +through his fingers. Something like a smile +gradually came into his face. He raised the +feather against the light of the lamp. His eyes +brightened.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it pretty, Dolly?" he said. "Isn't it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +pretty? just look at it. So white, and fresh, and +new, and glistening. And see the curve, the +slender curve of it—oh, Dolly, isn't it pretty and +fine?"</p> + +<p>But Dolly, collapsed in a chair, broke out +a-crying. "Oh, Goosie, Goosie, what are we going +to do now?" she wailed; "what are we to do? +O—O——"</p> + +<p>"Well," said Charles-Norton, the spirit of +contradiction which for several days had been +within him rising to his lips; "well, <i>I</i> don't see +what there is to make so much fuss about. A +few feathers are not going to hurt a man, are +they? 'Tisn't as if I were insane, or had hydrophobia!"</p> + +<p>"But, Goosie, Goosie, <i>no</i> one has feathers on +his shoulders! No one <i>ever</i> had feathers on his +shoulders! No other man <i>in the world</i> ever did +that; none in the world <i>ever</i> had feathers on his +shoulders that way! Oh, Goosie, Goosie, what +shall we do!!!"</p> + +<p>"Let them alone," said Charles-Norton, now +quite vexed. "They're mine; they don't hurt +<i>you</i>, do they? Let 'em alone!" He raised his +arms and began to slip his shirt up again.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> +<p>The tears ceased to drip from Dolly's eyes. +"You can't do that," she said, a maternal firmness +coming into her voice. "Why, Goosie, what +would they think of you down at the office?"</p> + +<p>"At the office? Why, they won't know it!"</p> + +<p>"But <i>you'll</i> know it, Goosie. All the time, +you'll know it. Goosie, you don't want to be +different, do you? You want to be like other +men, don't you? You don't want to be <i>different</i>?"</p> + +<p>This argument had some effect on Charles-Norton. +He stood very still, scratching his head +pensively. "Well," he said finally, "maybe +you're right. Maybe we had better keep them cut +short."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Goosie!" cried Dolly, joyously, and +bounded from the room. She came running back +with the scissors. "Come, quick!" she panted. +"I'll cut them, short. 'Twon't be much trouble +after all, will it? I'll cut them every day. It +will be just like shaving—no more trouble than +that!"</p> + +<p>And she slid the scissors along Charles-Norton's +skin with a cold, decisive little zip. He +could see her head, cocked a bit side-ways with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> +concentration, reflected in the glass panes of the +side-board as she cut and cut, closer and closer. +Her rosy nostrils were distended slightly; upon +her tight lip the tip of a small white tooth +gleamed. A light shiver passed along Charles-Norton's +spine. "Gee, I didn't think she could +look like this," he thought.</p> + + +<hr /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p> +<hr /> + +<p class="cap">Following this little disturbance the +Sims couple, lowering their heads, side +by side, resolutely regained the smooth +rut of their placid existence. Everything in this +world is easier than is imagined. Much easier. +In the case of the Sims' household, it was just a +matter of adding each morning, to the daily shave +of Charles-Norton, another operation quite as +facile.</p> + +<p>"Dolly," he would call, as soon as his hot +towel had removed from his ruddy cheeks the +last bubbles of lather.</p> + +<p>And Dolly, her hungry little scissors agleam +in her hand, trotted in alacriously. She sat +Charles-Norton on the edge of the tub and bent +over him her happy, humming head. Zip-zip-zip, +went the scissors, zip-zip—and a soft white +fluff that looked like the stuffing of a pillow (an +A-one pillow; not the kind upon which Charles-Norton +and Dolly laid their modest heads)<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> +eddied slowly to Charles-Norton's feet while he +shivered slightly to the coldness of the steel. +(Dolly cut very close.)</p> + +<p>Then, "All right; all done," she sang, dropping +the scissors into the round pocket of her +crackling apron; "now to breakfast, quick! And +here's a kiss for the good boy."</p> + +<p>Placing her red lips upon his, she whisked off +to the kitchenette; and Charles-Norton, emerging +all dressed a little later, found the cheerful +blue ware on the table, and his waffles upon his +plate, hot beneath his napkin. After which, +stuffing the morning paper into his pocket, he +departed with another kiss on the landing, +and strode forth for the L. Life was just as +before.</p> + +<p>And yet, not quite. Because, to tell the truth, +Charles-Norton was not absolutely happy.</p> + +<p>He could not have told what was the matter. +Mostly, it was an emptiness. An emptiness is +hard to analyze. He knew that there was much +of which he should be content. With the careful +repression of the vagaries of his shoulders, +there had come to him a new attentiveness at his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> +work. His nose, now, never wandered after passing +butterflies, and his salary had been raised to +twenty-two dollars a week. Also, the ridiculous +flapping had gone, and the impulse to draw fool +lines upon a card.</p> + +<p>But with these—and that was the trouble—other +things had vanished. That deep filling of +his lungs with spring, for instance. And the +longing that went with it. That was it—the +longing. He longed for the longing—if that is +comprehensible. He longed vaguely for a longing +that had been his, and which was gone. He +never saw, now, a land that was as a golden pool +beneath a turquoise dome; nor a boy in the wild +oats watching a circling hawk.</p> + +<p>And there was something else, something more +definite. He felt that Dolly—yes, Dolly took +too much pleasure, altogether too much pleasure +in that clipping business. Of course, the clipping +had to be. He knew that. A respectable +man can't have feathers on his shoulders. It +was necessary. But somehow he would have +felt that necessity more, if Dolly had felt it—less. +He would have liked a chance to voice it +himself. If Dolly, now, only would, some fine +morning, say, "Oh, Goosie, let them be to-day;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> +they are so pretty," then he could have answered, +very firmly, "No, clip away!" But she never +gave him that chance. She was always so radiantly +ready! As he watched her head in the +mirror, bent upon the busy scissors with an expression +of tight determination, a distinct irritation +seized him sometimes.</p> + +<p>Charles-Norton, in short, was accumulating, +drop by drop, a masculine grouch. A grouch +deeper than he realized, till that morning.</p> + +<p>That morning Dolly, in the midst of the daily +operation, paused with scissors in air, a sudden +inspiration upon her brow.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Goosie," she exclaimed; "How would it +be to cauterize them?"</p> + +<p>Charles-Norton gave a jump. "Cauterize!" +he cried; "cauterize what?"</p> + +<p>"Why, the little feathers. Supposing we +burned the place, you know, with nitrate of silver, +or something like that. They do it to people +who have moles—or when they have been bitten +by a mad dog. Maybe—maybe it would stop it—altogether."</p> + +<p>Charles-Norton looked up at her. Her cheeks +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span +>were rosy, her eyes were bright; she was excited +and pleased with her ingenious idea. A +cold wave rose about Charles-Norton and closed +over his head. "Say,'" he bawled ungraciously; +"what do you take me for! Think I'm made of +asbestos?"</p> + +<p>Discreet Dolly immediately dropped the subject; +though somehow Charles-Norton had the +distinct impression that it was only discreetly +that she did so, that, in fact, she was not dropping +the idea, but merely tucking it away somewhere +within the secret hiding-places of her being, +for further use. He could still see it, in +fact, graven there upon the whiteness of her +voluntary little forehead.</p> + +<p>He brooded black over it all day. He brooded +on other things, too—insignificant things that +had happened in the past, that had not mattered +one whit then, but which now, beneath his fostering +care, began to grow into big, flapping boog-a-boos. +And when he returned that night, he +was a very mean Charles-Norton. He spoke +hardly a word at dinner, pretended he did not +like the vanilla custard over which Dolly had +toiled all day, her soul aglow with creative delight, +sipped but half of his demi-tasse (as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> +though the coffee were bitter, which it wasn't), +and went off to bed early with a good-night so +frigid that Dolly's little nose tingled for several +minutes afterward.</p> + +<p>And the next morning, when Dolly, astonished +at the delay, finally peeped into the bath-room, +scissors in hand, she found Charles-Norton +fully dressed, his coat on.</p> + +<p>"Why, Goosie," she said in surprise; "I +haven't clipped you yet!"</p> + +<p>"No?" he growled enigmatically.</p> + +<p>"Take off your coat, dearie," she went on.</p> + +<p>"And you're not going to," said Charles-Norton, +finishing his statement with complete disregard +of hers.</p> + +<p>Dolly stood there a moment, looking at him +with head slightly cocked to one side. "All +right, Goosie," she said cheerily. "Only, don't +get mad at poor little me. Come on to breakfast, +you big, shaggy bear, you!"</p> + +<p>"I don't <i>want</i> any breakfast," growled +Charles-Norton between closed teeth (as a matter +of fact, he did, and a fragrance of waffles +from the kitchen was at the moment profoundly +agitating the pit of his being). "I don't <i>want</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> +any breakfast—where's my hat—quick, I'm in +a hurry—good-by."</p> + +<p>And tossing the hat bellicosely upon his head, +he pulled to himself the hall door, swaggered +through, and let it slam back on his departing +heels, right before the astonished nose of his +little wife.</p> + +<p>She remained there before this rude door, examining +its blank surface with a sort of objective +curiosity. At the same time she was listening +to the sound of steps gradually diminishing +down the five flights. She shook her head; "the +bad, bad boy!" she said.</p> + +<p>She pivoted with a shrug of the shoulders and +went back to the kitchen and sat down at the +table, all set for breakfast. She took up her fork +and cut off a bit of waffle. She placed it in her +mouth. Her eyes went off far away.</p> + +<p>It took it a long time, this little piece of waffle, +to go down. Lordie, what a tough, resilient, +flannelly, bit of waffle this was! Suddenly her +head went forward. It lit upon the table, in her +hands. A cup of the precious blue ware, dislodged, +balanced itself a moment on the edge of +the table, then, as if giving up hope, let go and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> +crashed to the floor at her feet in many pieces. +She gave it no heed. Her head was in her hands, +her hands were on the table, her hair lay like a +golden delta among plates and saucers; and the +table trembled.</p> + + +<hr /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p> +<hr /> + +<p class="cap">Meanwhile Charles-Norton was not +having such a good time either. Starting +off swaggeringly, he had halted +three times on his way to the station, and three +times had taken at least two steps back toward +the flat which he felt desolate behind him. And +now in his glass cage, a weight was at his +stomach, a constant weight like an indigestible +plum-pudding. At regular intervals, as he bent +over his books, he felt his heart descend swiftly +to the soles of his feet; he paled at the sight of +a telegraph messenger, at the sound of the telephone +bell. He had visions of hospitals—of a +white cot to which he was brought, a white cot +about which grave men stood hopelessly, and on +the pillow of which spread a cascade of golden +hair. Too imaginative, this Charles-Norton, too +imaginative altogether!</p> + +<p>He did not know that after a while Dolly had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> +risen, and a bit wearily, with heavy sighs, had +washed the dishes; that after this she had put +the little flat in order; that during this operation, +in spite of her best efforts, she had felt her +woe slowly oozing from her; that the provisioning +tour in the street and stores gay with gossipy, +bargaining young matrons, had almost completed +this process; and that a providential peep +in a milliner's window, which had suddenly +solved for her the harassing problem of the +spring hat (she had seen one she liked and with +a flash of inspiration had seen how she could +make one just like it out of her old straw and +some feathers long at the bottom of her trunk) +had sent her bounding back up her five flights of +stairs with a song purring in her heart.</p> + +<p>So that when, returning in the evening, +Charles-Norton opened the door with bated +breath, to find Dolly humming happily in the +kitchen, he was struck by something like disappointment. +"She's shallow," he thought; +"doesn't feel." He did not mean by this, of +course, that he wished she had in despair done +something catastrophic. He meant merely—well, +he did not know what he meant. He was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> +disillusioned, that was all. This was but a prosy +world after all. Few Heroics here!</p> + +<p>And immediately a warning knocked at his +consciousness. He must be careful if he were +to hold what advantage he had gained in the +day. He turned from the kitchen threshold and +silently slunk back into the room which was +both dining and sitting-room, and isolated himself +behind the spread pages of the evening +paper. He was curt and cold the entire evening. +And in the morning he again left with calculated +violence—breakfastless and unsheared.</p> + +<p>This time, Dolly did not weep. She sat long +on the edge of her bed, thinking silently; then a +silver rocket of sound broke the sepulchral quiet +of the flat. Dolly had had a vision of what must +inevitably happen; and Dolly was laughing.</p> + +<p>It took just ten days to happen—ten days +which were rather disagreeable, of course, but +which Dolly, sure of the trumps in her little +hands, bore with jolly fortitude. All that time, +Charles-Norton glowered constantly. He was +monosyllabic and ostentatiously unhappy. This +more than was necessary, and very deliberate. +It had to be deliberate; for, as a matter of fact,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> +on the outside Charles was not having at all a +bad time.</p> + +<p>The exaltation of the ante-clipping days had returned—returned +heightened, and was still +growing day by day. A constant joyous babbling, +as of some inexhaustible spring, lay at +the bottom of his soul. His senses were singularly +acute. He thrilled to a leaf, to a bud, to +a patch of blue sky; and the thrill remained +long, a profound satisfaction within him, after +the stimulant had gone. With the resolution of +a roué plunging back into his vice after an enforced +vacation, he had brought a large sketch +book; and he passed much time drawing lines +into it—rapid beauty streaks that gave him a +sensation of birds. He saw often, now, a land +which was as a pool of gold beneath a turquoise +sky; and a boy in the wild oats watching a +circling hawk. At such times his lungs filled +deep with the spring, and his arms were apt to +beat at his sides in rapid tattoo. This, in fact +made up solely his morning exercises now. +Standing with legs close together, a-tip-toe, head +back and chest forward, placing his hands beneath +his shoulders he waved his arms up and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +down in a beat that rose in fervid crescendo, till +his eyes closed and there went through him a +soaring ecstasy that threatened at times to lift +him from the floor.</p> + +<p>All this, of course, was not without its disadvantage. +Vaguely he felt that in some subtle +way he was gaining the disapproval of his fellows. +Men were apt to look at him askance, half +doubtful, half-indignant. They tread on his toes +in the Elevated. His work, too, was going to +pot; he could not stick to his figures. His chief, +an old fragile-necked book-keeper, had spoken to +him once.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Sims," he had said, after a preliminary +little cough; "Mr. Sims, you ought to take care +of your health. You are not well."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes I am," answered Charles-Norton, absent-mindedly. +His eyes were on the ceiling, +where a fly was buzzing. "I'm all right!"</p> + +<p>"You should—er—you should consult—a +specialist, Mr. Sims. Don't you know—your +shoulders, your back—you should consult a +spine-specialist, Mr. Sims."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's all right," said Charles-Norton, +easily. "Don't worry." And thus he had sent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> +back the old gentleman baffled to his high +stool.</p> + +<p>And then came Dolly's day.</p> + +<p>"Dolly! Dolly! Dolly!"</p> + +<p>It was morning, before breakfast. Charles-Norton +was in the bedroom; Dolly was setting +the table in the living-room. She paused, and +stood very still, while a little knowing smile +parted her lips.</p> + +<p>"Dolly! Dolly! Dolly!" Again came the +call, unmistakable, music to Dolly's ear. She +tip-toed to the door. From within sounded a +threshing noise, as of a whale caught in shallows. +"Yes. What is it?" she called back melodiously, +mastering her desire to rush in.</p> + +<p>"Come here, Dolly," said the male voice. +"Come here."</p> + +<p>"I'm coming," said Dolly, and went in with +a slightly bored expression.</p> + +<p>"Help me, Dolly," said the perspiring and be-ruffled +gentleman within. "I can't—can't—get +my coat on."</p> + +<p>"Why, Goosie; of course I'll help you."</p> + +<p>But the help, although almost sincere, was +powerless. The coat would not go on. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> +sleeves rose to the elbows smoothly, half way to +the shoulders with more effort—but here they +stuck, refusing to slide over the top of the shoulders. +On each side of the spine, almost cracking +the shirt, a protuberance bulged which the +coat could not leap.</p> + +<p>He stood there puffing, his hair mussed up, +his eyes wrathful. "Well," he growled at +length; "why don't you go get your scissors."</p> + +<p>"Shall I?" she said doubtfully—and at the +same time bounced out like a little rabbit. +"Take off your shirt, Goosie," she said, returning +with the gleaming instruments, now symbolical +of her superior common-sense.</p> + +<p>She aided him. She took off his collar and +tie, unfastened the buttons, and then she was +tugging at the shirt. It slid down, uncovering +the shoulders. There was a dry, crackling sound, +as of a fan stretched open—and Dolly sat down +on the floor. "Oh-oh-oh," she cried, "Go-oo-oo-ssie-ie!"</p> + +<p>He stood there, looking out of the corner of +his eye at his reflection in the mirror, red-faced +and very much abashed. For with the slipping +of the shirt, on his shoulders there had sprung,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> +with the movement of a released jack-in-the-box, +two vibrant white things.</p> + +<p>Two gleaming, lustrous, white things that +were——</p> + +<p>"They're wings," said Dolly, still on the floor. +"<i>They are wings</i>," she repeated, in the tone of +one saying, <i>He is dead</i>. "Now, Goosie, you <i>have</i> +done it!"</p> + +<p>But a change had come in Charles-Norton. +The blush had left his brow, the foolish expression +his face; he was pivoting before the mirror +like a woman with a new bonnet.</p> + +<p>"I <i>like</i> them," he said.</p> + +<p>And then, "Just look at them, Dolly. Just +look at the curve of them. Isn't it a beautiful +curve! And the whiteness of them, Dolly—like +a baby's soul. And how downy—soft like you, +Dolly. Look at them gleam. And they move, +Dolly, they move! Dolly, oh, look!"</p> + +<p>The wings were gently breathing; their slender +tips struck his waist at each oscillation. The +movement quickened, became a beat, a rapid palpitation. +A soft whirring sound filled the room; +the newspaper on the bed, dislodged, eddied to +the floor; the wings were a mere white blur. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>Suddenly Charles-Norton's feet left the floor, +and he rose slowly into the air. "Look, look, +Dolly," he cried, as he went up, hovering above +her up-tilted nose and her wide eyes, as she sat +there, paralyzed, upon the ground; "Dolly, +look!"</p> + +<p>The humming sound took a higher note; a picture +crashed down; the room was a small cyclone. +"Dolly, watch me; look!"</p> + +<p>And with a sudden leap, Charles-Norton +slanted up toward the ceiling and lit, seated, on +the edge of the shelf that went along the four +walls. "Look," he said with triumph, balancing +smilingly on his perch.</p> + +<p>But immediately his expression changed to +one of concern, and he sprang down quickly and +quietly. Dolly was now stretched full-length +along the carpet; her face was in her arms. He +turned it to the light. Her eyes were closed.</p> + +<p>Dolly had fainted.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p> + + +<hr /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p> +<hr /> + +<p class="cap">A husband who has a wife that faints is +in the grasp of the great It.</p> + +<p>Full of fear, pity, remorse, and self-hatred, +Charles-Norton danced about helplessly +for several minutes, sprinkling water upon +Dolly's brow (much of it went down her neck); +trying to pour bad whiskey between her pearly +teeth; calling himself names; chafing her hands, +promising to be good, to do always what she +wanted; loosening her garments; proclaiming the +fact that he was a brute, she an angel—while the +wings, loose down his back, flapped after him in +long, mournful gestures. And when finally, from +the couch upon which he had drawn her, Dolly +opened upon him her blue eyes, humid as twin +stars at dawn, he placed her little scissors in her +hand, and with head bowed low, in an ecstatic +agony of self-renunciation bade her do her duty. +The little scissors could not do it this time, +though. It took the shears.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p> +<p>After which there were a mingling of tears, +murmurings, embraces, and Dolly said that the +bad, bad times were all over now, and he agreed +that they could never come again; and she said +they would be happy ever afterward, and he +agreed they should be happy always. Then +Dolly, still a bit languid, in a voice still a bit +doleful, drove him off to the office.</p> + +<p>Where he arrived very late, and had to pass +the gauntlet of his chiefs frigid ignoring of the +dereliction.</p> + +<p>When Charles-Norton had gone, Dolly suddenly +sat up with a click of small heels upon the +floor. She remained thus some time, a frown +between her eyes. She was not triumphant, she +was worried. She seemed to recognize danger; +her transparent nostrils dilated to the smell of +powder; and plainly, you could see her steel her +being. After a while she nodded to herself, +curtly and very decidedly, and went on about +her work.</p> + +<p>She met Charles-Norton at the door when he +returned in the evening. He was somewhat +limp after a day of <i>mea culpas</i>! and she, a quarter +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> +of an hour before the time for his reappearance, +had powdered her nose—which, she knew, +gave her an expression half amusing, half piteous, +just like that of the clown who is playing +his tricks at the circus while his little daughter +is dying at home. "Hello, Goosie," she said +breathlessly (also she had rubbed a trace of +rouge under her eyes); "hello, just in time for +dinner! Made a fine chocolate cake. Poor dear, +you look so tired!"</p> + +<p>And after supper, which in spite of Dolly's +very ostensible effort at exuberance, was rather +silent, for Charles-Norton, with a man's detestation +of "scenes," still felt somewhat embarrassed +at the happenings of the morning, she drew up +the Morris chair to the lamp, sat Charles-Norton +in it, and filled his pipe for him. When thus +"fixed up comfy," he felt a soft breath upon +his neck, and two little hands at his neck-tie. +Off came tie and collar, and then the coat, and +then the shirt, and then—zip-zip.</p> + +<p>"Say, Dolly," he remonstrated mildly; +"couldn't you wait till morning?"</p> + +<p>"There," she said; "it's almost all done. Just +a wee bit more here. There! Now here is a +kiss! It didn't hurt, Goosie, did it?"</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p> +<p>And Charles-Norton had to concede that it did +not hurt. How could he have explained the +subtle feeling within him, that sort of swooping +descent of his inwards that came with, and the +dullness of all things which followed always his +shearings?</p> + +<p>"No, it didn't hurt," he repeated. But a +vague dissatisfaction like a yeast stirred within +him, and a flicker,—beaten down immediately, +it is true, trampled, smothered,—of revolt.</p> + +<p>Calmly, coolly, efficiently, though, Dolly had +taken the upper hand. The next morning she +sent him sheared to the office; she sent him +sheared the same night to bed.</p> + +<p>And thus day after day for many days. Every +morning Charles-Norton went out to his work +full of emptiness (if that phrase is permissible), +empty of heart, empty of mind, without a desire, +without an anger. The warm June days had +come; he had changed his underwear. He felt +the season only as a discomfort. The emerald +explosions visible at the end of each street as +the L train passed along Central Park did not +stir him; the tepid airs drifting lazily from the +sea, the fragrant whiffs from the depths of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> +germinating land, passed over him as though he +were made of asbestos. An insulation was about +him, removing him from all things that thrill, +all things that distend; there was no color, no +vibration in the world; iridescences had ceased; +the chamber of his soul had been painted a dull +drab.</p> + +<p>He had regained, though, the esteem of his fellows. +The subtle and unerring instinct which +had made them suspicious in the days of his—misfortune, +now in the same inexplicable way +told them that he was normal again. They +looked at him no longer askance. In fact, they +did not look at him at all. They accepted him +without question in crush of street and L; gave +him his rightful space (nine and a half inches in +diameter); trod on his feet only when forced to +(by the impulse to obtain a more comfortable +position); poked their elbows into his stomach +only when necessary (that is, when they had to +get out or in ahead of him); and on the whole +surrounded him with that indifference which at +the bottom is a sort of regard, which means that +one conforms, that one's derby, sack-suits, socks +and shoes, habits, ideas, morals and religion are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +just exactly like the derbies, sack-suits, socks and +shoes, habits, ideas, morals and religion of everyone +else, and hence right. At the office he had +regained the appreciation of his chiefs; his salary +had been raised to twenty-two dollars and a +half a week and his working hours from eight to +nine hours. His home life was the standard +ideal one. That is, he got up at the same time +every morning, left punctually at the same hour, +took the L, arrived at the office on the minute, +worked with his nose close to the ruled pages, +steadily, without a distraction, till 12.30, had +his macaroon tart and cup of coffee at Konrad's +Bakery, smoked his five-cent cigar in the nearby +square till 1.30, worked again till 5.30, returned +home on the L, pressed tight like a lamb on the +way to the packing-house, had a cozy little dinner +upon which Dolly had spent all her ingenuity, +smoked his pipe in the Morris chair, and +then read the paper till the sudden contact of his +chin with his chest and Dolly's amused warning +sent him off to bed. A very moral, regular, +exemplary existence. Dolly was very happy.</p> + +<p>And then, just as this couple could see the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> +track clear ahead, stretching smooth and nickel-plated +to infinity, an ugly complication began +to worm itself into the serenity of their +lives.</p> + +<p>This complication arose from the fact that the +suppressed wings of Charles-Norton began to +grow faster. Each day, now, Charles-Norton, +returning home, brought with him to Dolly a +task more serious and considerable. She had +long ago discarded the little scissors and used +special shears made to cut heavy cardboard; +and she finished off with a safety razor.</p> + +<p>The result of this increase in the rate of +winged growth was that, whereas Charles-Norton +every morning left home placid and docile, +his character gradually changed during the day. +Starting at his work in the spirit of a blind +horse at the mill, by ten o'clock he was apt to +find himself, pen-holder in mouth, nose up in the +air, following the evolutions of a buzzing flylet. +By eleven o'clock, the cage had become very +stuffy; spasmodic intakes swelled his chest, +ghost longings stirred within him. When he got +out at 12.30 the sun seemed to pour right through +his skin, into the drab chamber of his soul, gilding +it. He hurried over his macaroon tart and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> +cup of coffee, and then had three-quarters of an +hour left to idle in the square.</p> + +<p>He prepared for this gravely, as for a ceremony; +first by buying a Pippin. A slender, +light-brown Pippin, scientifically sprinkled with +golden freckles, for five cents. (A daily Pippin +was a recognized item of the family budget; at +one time Charles Norton had carried his pipe +with him, but Dolly, noticing the doubtful fragrance +given by said pipe to the clothes of +Charles-Norton, had insisted upon the extravagance +of the daily Pippin). Having bought the +Pippin, Charles-Norton did not light it right +away. Oh, no. He ambled first to the square. +He selected his bench carefully—one upon which +the sun shone, but shone with a light filtered by +the leaves of a low-branching elm. He sat down; +he stretched his legs straight before him. Then +slowly, with deliberation of movement, he +scratched a match. He brought the spluttering +end near his nose. The Pippin began to send +forth effluvia, an exquisite vapor, faintly-blue. +Charles-Norton half closed his eyes; his soul began +to purr.</p> + +<p>Before him a fountain plashed; about the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> +fountain were red blossoms; the elms rustled +gently against the blue sky; through the delicate +lace of their leaves the sun eddied down like a +very light pollen; and all this, through the Pippin's +exquisite atmosphere, was enveloped and +smoothed and glazed into a picture—a slightly +hazy dream-picture. Charles-Norton stretched +his legs still more; his shoulders rose along the +sides of his head. He was as at the bottom of +the sea—a warm and quiet summer sea. Down +through its golden-dusty waters, a streak of sun, +polished like a rapier, diagonaled, striking him +on the breast; and to its vivifying burn he felt +within him his heart expand, as though it would +bloom, like the red flowers about the fountain.</p> + +<p>Upon the other benches sprawled some of the +city's derelicts. The sun was upon them also; +they stirred uneasily to its caress, with sighs +and groans, their warped bodies, petrified with +the winter's long cold, distending slowly in pain. +Pale children in their buggies slept with mouths +open, gasping like little fish; some played upon +the asphalt.</p> + +<p>Charles-Norton, by this time, was apt to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> +far away; far in another land. He lay upon his +back and watched a hawk on high.</p> + +<p>The sparrows usually brought him back. +They played about his feet; they chirped, hopped, +and tattled; they peered side-ways at him and +gave him jerky nods of greeting. At times one +of them, to a sudden inspiration, sprang into +the air; with a whir he flashed up to the top +of a tree. To the movement, something within +Charles-Norton leaped to his throat.</p> + +<p>Across the park, gaunt behind the trees, rose +the tall steel frame of a new building; and away +up at the top of it (which was higher every day) +a workingman, on a girder, ate his lunch. +Charles-Norton liked this man; a current of +comradeship always ran from him to the little +figure silhouetted up against the blue. He should +have liked to eat his lunch up there, side by side +with this man, his legs swinging next to his, with +the void beneath. And then, he thought, after +lunching, he would like to stand erect, away up +there, at the tip edge of one of the projecting +beams; to stand there a bit, and then spring +off; spring off lightly, and whiz down; down, +down, down with outspread arms.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> +<p>Which was a very foolish thought for a man +that worked in a cage to dream. Very foolish, +even if the cage were of glass. Just about that +time the Pippin went out in a black smolder, +and from a nearby church, hidden between great +sky-scrapers, a big ding-dong bell said resonantly +that it was half-past one.</p> + +<p>He returned to the office. Every afternoon, +now, was a tingling trial. He worked with head +down, sweating with repression. An obsession +tormented him. He wanted to walk out of his +glass cage. Out, not through the door, but +through the glass. Not gently, like Alice going +into Wonderland, but with ostentation and violence, +with a heralding crash of shattered panes, +scandalously. Out of his cage, into the next; +out of that, into the next; from one end of the big +room, in fact, to the other, crashingly, through +cage after cage—and then out upon the street +through the plate front. Half-past five finally +freed him; and taking his place in a packed +herring-box on wheels, he was rolled back to +Dolly—and the shearing.</p> + +<p>Thus for a while did the young people live securely +on a clown's tissue-paper hoop. Then one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> +evening, just as Charles-Norton, after successfully +resisting all day his anarchistic glass-smashing +impulse, was watching the hands of +the clock approach the minute that was to free +him, his chief, raising his bald head at the end +of his long, thin neck, said casually, "We work +all night, to-night, you know, Mr. Sims."</p> + + +<hr /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p> +<hr /> + +<p class="cap">"We work all night to-night, Mr. Sims." +It is always with just such a +sentence, quiet, drab, and seemingly +insignificant, that Mr. Catastrophe introduces +himself.</p> + +<p>"Yes?" said Charles-Norton, adjusting his +neck-tie and looking at the calendar.</p> + +<p>He was not surprised, for this happened twice +a year. Twice a year, on a day in December and +a day in June, a part of the force worked all night +to prepare a statistical table for the benefit of +the stockholders.</p> + +<p>He telephoned to Dolly. Her voice came to +him over the wire in a scared little squeak. +"Oh, Goosie," she pleaded; "come up before +starting in again. I'll let you go off right away. +But please come up, please do!"</p> + +<p>"Can't," shouted Charles-Norton. "We're +allowed only an hour for dinner, and it would +take more than that just to go up and back."</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p> +<p>"They won't care if you are a little late," suggested +Dolly.</p> + +<p>"No, can't come up," said Charles-Norton, +astonished at his own firmness (it is much easier +to be firm over a telephone, anyway). "There's +too much to do. I'll be up in the morning, +maybe."</p> + +<p>"But Goo-oo-sie——"</p> + +<p>"Nope. Can't. Good-by, dearie," said +Charles-Norton, and hung up the receiver, and +with a bad conscience and a soaring heart, went +off to dinner. No shearing to-night—gee! He +ordered a dinner which made the red-headed +waitress gasp. "Must have got a raise, eh?" +she diagnosed.</p> + +<p>"No, not a raise, not a raise," hummed +Charles-Norton; "skip now; I'm hungry."</p> + +<p>The night was a long and toilsome one, but an +inexhaustible bubble was at the pit of Charles-Norton's +being; gradually through the night he +felt, beneath his coat, his shoulders deliciously +swelling. And when in the morning he stepped +out upon the sidewalk, a cry left his lips.</p> + +<p>It had showered during the night, and to the +rising sun the whole city was glowing as with a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> +golden dew. The air was fresh; Charles-Norton +gulped it down. He felt as though a broad river +were streaming through him—a clear, cool river. +Suddenly, his heels snapped together, his head +went back; his hands rose to his armpits and +his arms began to vibrate up and down. A +policeman came running across the street. "Say, +wot de 'ell are you doing?" he bellowed, red-faced +and outraged.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to breakfast," answered Charles-Norton, +cockily.</p> + +<p>He went into the bakery, his hat a-tilt, with +the air of a conqueror. For he had decided not +to go up to the flat, but to breakfast right here +and to spend an hour in the square before going +back to the glass cage at nine. His chest pouted; +his eyes glistened; wine ran in his veins. He +ordered ham-and-eggs and hot-cakes. An orgy!</p> + +<p>He was eating fast, in a hurry for the Pippin +and the loll on the bench, when he felt someone +sit down by him. There was a pause; then, +"hello, chicken!" piped a thin voice in his ear.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Pinny," answered Charles-Norton, +even before looking. He had recognized the +voice of the pale youth whom he had elbowed on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> +the L a few weeks before, and whom later he had +placated here in the bakery.</p> + +<p>"S'pose you're a millionaire by this time, +chicken," said the youth, jocularly.</p> + +<p>"Sure, Pinny," answered Charles-Norton.</p> + +<p>"But really, honest, did yuh win anything?" +went on Pinny, more seriously.</p> + +<p>"Win?" Suddenly Charles-Norton remembered +the lottery ticket that he had bought. He +had forgotten it completely. "The drawings +was three days ago," Pinny was saying; "got 'em +here," and out of his pocket he drew a soiled +newspaper clipping.</p> + +<p>Charles-Norton also was searching his pockets +with much contortion; and it was some time +before his hand flashed out triumphantly with a +piece of dog-eared, yellow cardboard. "Wot's +your number?" asked Pinny.</p> + +<p>"Nineteen thousand, eight hundred and +ninety-seven," Charles-Norton read.</p> + +<p>Pinny was perusing the clipping in his hand. +"Wot did you say," he piped suddenly; "<i>wot's</i> +the number?"</p> + +<p>"Nineteen thousand, eight hundred and +ninety-seven," repeated Charles-Norton.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p> +<p>The pale youth seemed to collapse. His chin +went forward on his green tie, his back slid down +the back of his chair, his hands dropped limp +upon the table. "Well, I'll be eternally dod-gum-good-blasted," +he said weakly.</p> + +<p>"You've done it," he continued, solemnly; +"you've gone and done it." He looked at his +clipping again. "Lemme see your ticket," he +said. He placed the ticket and the clipping side +by side; his stubby, black-fringed finger slid +from one to the other.</p> + +<p>"You've done it, partner," he repeated, with +the same funereal intoning. "Nineteen thousand, +eight hundred and ninety-seven! And I've +held that ticket in my hands, right in these +hands! Eight hundred dollars.—Nineteen thousand, +eight hundred and ninety-seven wins eight +hundred dollars"—his tongue lingered, as if it +tasted it, upon each opulent number—"Eight +hundred dollars; that's what you win. And all +owing to me, too."</p> + +<p>Charles-Norton had forgotten his ham-and-eggs. +He took the ticket and the clipping from +Pinny's nerveless fingers and compared them. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> +19897! That was right. He had won eight hundred +dollars. "Where do you cash in?" he exclaimed +with a sudden ferocity.</p> + +<p>"I'll take you to it," murmured Pinny, still in +a daze. "Gee—and I had that ticket in this here +pair of hands. I'll take yuh to it. It's down +town. No trouble getting the money. You'll +treat on it, eh? You'll treat, won't yuh?"</p> + +<p>His sharp face was almost beneath Charles-Norton's +chin; his pale eyes rolled upward wistfully. +A sudden gust of pity went through +Charles-Norton. "Surely," he said. "Better +than that; we'll share." He paused, coughed. +A wave of prudence was modifying his impulse—the +prudence that inevitably comes with +wealth. "I'll give you—I'll give you twenty-five +dollars!" he announced.</p> + +<p>"Come on!" said Pinny; "come on—we're +losing time, eating in this joint. Say, you'll have +all you want to eat now, won't yuh—oysters and +wine and grape-fruit and everything. And girls, +eh? Autos and wine and girls—Gee!" And his +eyes remained fixed on the vision of splendor, of +the splendor of Charles-Norton, missed so narrowly +by himself.</p> + +<p>Together they went down to the offices of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> +Little Texas, where after having been warmly +congratulated by an oily man with a diamond +stud, and after signing seven feet of documents +and testimonials, Charles-Norton was given a +long yellow check, which was forthwith photographed, +as was also Charles-Norton. Then the +fat, oily man, the clerk who had prepared the +documents, Pinny, and Charles-Norton went +downstairs and, standing up against a polished +walnut counter, drank to the long life of the Little +Texas and to the success of Charles-Norton. +After which the courteous oily man introduced +Charles-Norton to the cashier of a bank, where +Charles-Norton deposited his check, receiving in +return a little yellow deposit-book, and a long +green check-book.</p> + +<p>With Pinny, Charles-Norton rode back toward +the office. They stopped at the square, and stood +a while watching the fountain, each a bit uncertain. +Finally Pinny put out his hand. "Well, +so long, old man," he said; "so long."</p> + +<p>"So long," said Charles-Norton, indecisively.</p> + +<p>But Pinny still stood there, abashed and uncertain. +"You was going to—but you've +changed yer mind, I suppose; I suppose you've<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +changed yer mind—You was going to——" His +eyes were on the ground; he shuffled one foot +gently. "You was going to——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course!" cried Charles-Norton. "I +was going to give you a share of the swag—of +course, of course, of course!"</p> + +<p>They sat on a bench. Charles-Norton took out +of his pocket the long check-book and opened it +out, with a little crackling sound, on its first +clean page. He took out his fountain pen. +"No. 1," he wrote down with great decision. He +paused, looking about him for a moment, in enjoyment +of this new occupation. "June 19," he +wrote on, slowly, languorously. "Pay to the +order of," the page said next. "Of <i>Frank Theodore +Pinny</i>," wrote Charles-Norton. "Dollars," +the check said next, at the end of a blank line. +Charles-Norton paused, pen poised above paper.</p> + +<p>"Twenty-five," he thought. That is what he +had promised. "<i>T-w-e-n-t-y</i>," he wrote. The pen +stopped again, hovering hesitatingly above the +paper. "Twenty-five is a whole lot," he thought. +"Just for selling a ticket. Just for selling a +piece of cardboard!" And eight hundred dollars +was not so much, either. An hour before,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> +eight hundred dollars had seemed an immense +sum. Now it seemed a modest amount, a very +modest amount. And twenty-five, twenty-five +to give away—that seemed quite big. "Pay to +the order of Frank Theodore Pinny," he re-read, +"twenty——"</p> + +<p>The pen made a sudden descent. "And no-hundredths," +it wrote swiftly.</p> + +<p>Charles-Norton signed the check, tore it from +the book, folded it, and presented it to Pinny, a +bit patronizingly. Pinny stuck it into a side +pocket without looking at it. He was standing +on one leg and seemed in a hurry to get away. +Charles-Norton, suddenly, had the same feeling. +The sense of comradeship which had been with +them for the last hour had abruptly flown with +this passing of money. Each man was embarrassed, +as before a stranger. "So long," said +Pinny; "so long," said Charles-Norton. Pinny, +with averted head, turned and walked away.</p> + +<p>Charles-Norton pivoted on his heel, and +started for the office, worried suddenly by the +thought that he was late. He took three long +steps, collided with a sodden old gentleman who +was just arising from a bench—and then was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> +standing very still, looking about him as in a +daze, unconscious of the mutter of apology which, +together with an odor of stale beer, was fermenting +beneath his nose. The old gentleman, pursuing +a ray of sun, slipped on to a farther bench. +But Charles-Norton still stood there, gazing +about him in a sort of mild astonishment, as if, +while he was not looking, the scene about him +had been transformed like so much cardboard +scenery.</p> + +<p>To the shock of the collision, as to the stroke +of a finger upon a chemical beaker the reluctant +crystallization abruptly takes place, there had +come to Charles-Norton the realization <i>that he +did not have to go to the office</i>.</p> + +<p>He did not have to go to the office! Here, +against his heart, represented by three black +figures within a little yellow book, was eight +hundred dollars, practically eight months' +salary, the assurance of eight months almost of +independence, of freedom!</p> + +<p>"And Dolly?"</p> + +<p>You will think, perhaps, that Charles-Norton +was seized by an ardent desire immediately to +run to Dolly, spring up the five flights of stairs,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> +push open the door, catch her by the waist and, +seating her on his knees, to pantingly tell her of +the wondrous news? You are mistaken.</p> + +<p>For with the vision of Dolly, the thought that +irresistibly came to Charles-Norton was——</p> + +<p>That he didn't have to go to Dolly.</p> + +<p>He didn't have to go to Dolly and be clipped. +He didn't have to go to the glass cage, and he +didn't have to go to Dolly. The scissors of +Dolly.</p> + +<p>Charles-Norton, very pale, his long, strong legs +trembling beneath him, sank upon the nearest +bench, and tried to catch hold of the world +again, of the reality of the world. His hands, +unconsciously expressing his mental attitude, +held the bench's rim tight with white knuckles.</p> + +<p>Eight hundred dollars was not so much. Besides, +it was only seven hundred and eighty now. +And Dolly was a good little wife. A good, faithful, +loving little wife. In a few months the +money would all be gone if he stopped working. +If he went back to the office and worked, the +eight hundred (minus twenty) could be kept in +the savings bank as a precious resource against +ill-luck. And some of it could be used to buy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> +things—furs for Dolly, for instance, brave little +Dolly. Her household allowance could be increased +a bit—brave, cheerful, careful, economical, +busy, loving little Dolly!</p> + +<p>In the silence of his cogitation, Charles-Norton +suddenly heard with great distinctness a furtive +creaking within the shoulders of his coat.</p> + +<p>"Dear Little Dolly!" he exclaimed ostentatiously, +making a brave effort to keep his eyes +upon his beacon.</p> + +<p>But right from between his feet a sparrow, +like a firecracker exploding, sprang and went +whirring up in the sky. Charles-Norton followed +it with his eyes as it went winging, winging +up in a series of lines, each of which ended +in a droop, toward the high sky-scraper. And +when his eyes reached, with the bird, the top of +the building, they lit upon a cloud, a great white +galleon of a cloud which, with all sails set, flanks +opulently agleam with the swell of impalpable +freights, went sliding by with streaming pennons, +toward the West.</p> + +<p>And Charles-Norton felt as though he were going +to die. A great, sad yearning seemed to split +his breast. He rose to his feet, his eyes upon the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> +cloud. A turbulence now churned within him; +his shoulders palpitated within their cloth +prison (you see, they had not been sheared for a +full twenty-four hours); a wave of madness, of +daring, of revolt, rose into the head of Charles-Norton. +"No, no, no," he growled. "No more, +no more, I can't, I can't, no more, no, <i>no</i>!"</p> + +<p>The last no was as a trumpet note—a defiant +negative hurled at the Force of the Universe. +And Charles-Norton began to race around the +fountain, striking with his right fist his left hand, +muttering unintelligible and tremendous protests. +You see, his wings had grown altogether +too long. He could feel their ligatures reaching +like roots to his soul. When, at the end of the +third lap, he came to his bench again, his mind +was made up. Only details remained to be determined.</p> + +<p>And when he rose for the last time from the +bench, these were fixed. His appearance was one +of great calmness tense above a suppressed ebullition. +Before him his programme stretched like +a broad, clear road. He followed it.</p> + +<p>Firstly he went to the bank and drew out three +hundred dollars in cash.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p> +<p>With the roll in his breast-pocket, he walked +up Broadway till he came to a Cook's Tourist +agency; entering, after a short discussion aided +by the perusal of a map, he exchanged part of his +roll for a long, green, accordeon-pleated ticket.</p> + +<p>Then he went out and bought himself a tawny, +creaky suit-case, and then, successively, going +from store to store:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>Two collars.</p> + +<p>A comb.</p> + +<p>A neck-tie.</p> + +<p>A tooth-brush.</p> + +<p>A safety razor.</p> + +<p>A little can of tooth-powder.</p> + +<p>A shaving brush and a cake of soap.</p> + +<p>A cap.</p> + +<p>A pair of much abbreviated swimming trunks.</p> +</div> + +<p>All of which he placed in his new suit-case.</p> + +<p>Then after a moment of frowning consideration, +he purchased two thick woolen double-blankets +which he rolled up and strapped.</p> + +<p>After which he boldly strode into the Waldorf-Astoria.</p> + +<p>Such affluence, by this time, did his person +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> +emanate that four brass-buttoned boys simultaneously +sprang to their feet and came running +up to him. He waved them aside with a commanding +gesture and went into the writing-room.</p> + +<p>He opened his check-book. "3," he wrote +firmly in the right hand corner. "Pay to the +order of," he read; "Dolly Margaret Sims," he +wrote, "Four hundred and eighty and no-hundredths +dollars."</p> + +<p>He signed the check, tore it off, and let the +now looted check-book drop negligently to the +floor. He placed the folded check in an envelope, +wrote a little letter and placed it by the check, +sealed the envelope, and wrote upon it,</p> + +<div class="signoff"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Charles Norton Sims</span><br /> +<div class="signoff">267 West 129th St.<br /> +<div class="signoff">New York<br /> +</div></div></div> + +<p>and rang for a messenger boy, to whom he gave +the letter.</p> + +<p>Then calling for a taxi-cab, he whizzed away +to the Grand Central station.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later, amid a ding-donging of bells +and a roaring of steam, a big, luxurious train +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> +began to strain at its couplings on its way overland. +As it slid slowly out beneath the resonant +cupola, Charles-Norton emerged from the +rear door and stepped out upon the observation +platform.</p> + +<p>And there, upon this wide, large platform, +which was much like a miniature stage, Charles-Norton +appeared for a moment in undignified +pantomime. Leaning over the shining rail, chin +thrust out, he shook both fists at the receding +city, and spit into its face.</p> + + +<hr /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> +<hr /> + +<p class="cap">Charles-Norton's letter came to +Dolly in the evening, after a day full +of worry. It read:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Dolly</span> +:—Enclosed is $480. It's for +you. I'm going away. I simply can't stand it, +that's all. I think I still love you, Dolly, but I +can't stand the life. I can't, that's all. I must +have, I must have—well, I can't stand that clipping +business any longer.</p> + +<p>"Please don't grieve. Some day you'll meet a +man who is real fond of you and who will make +you happy—one that hasn't any wings. There +are lots of them.</p> + +<p class="signoff"> +"Yours always (in thought),<br /> +<span class="signoff"> +"<span class="smcap">Charles-Norton</span>."<br /></span> +</p> + +<p>"P.S.—Please don't feel too bad about this.</p> + +<p class="signoff"><span class="signoff"><span class="signoff"> +"C.N."<br /> +</span></span></p></div> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span></p> +<p>At the reading of this tactful epistle, Dolly, +of course, immediately burst out into hysterics. +These shall remain undescribed here. There is +something mysterious about hysteria which paralyzes +the pen. Not the least mysterious thing +about it is the fact that the word, pronounced in +an assembly of men and women, will simultaneously +call up haggard lines on the faces of the +men and cooing sniggles in the throats of the +ladies.</p> + +<p>Anyway, poor little Dolly had it bad all that +night, and all the next day, and all the next night. +By the morning of the second day, it had passed +to a lamentable wandering to and fro within +the cage-like apartment, with disordered garments +and unkempt hair, through which eyes +shone with a glint of madness. By the afternoon +of the same day, it was taking some interest in +its reflection as it passed the several mirrors +in its ceaseless pacing. The reflection reminded +of Ophelia. Finally, when in the evening it +caught itself nibbling cracker and cheese in the +upset kitchen, it realized that it needed new stimulus. +It telegraphed for Dolly's Boston aunt.</p> + +<p>The calculation proved correct. When, twelve<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> +hours later, the Boston aunt pressed the button +at the landing, she found herself almost immediately +tackled around the neck, while a shriek +pierced her right ear. This was followed by a +palpitant hugging, from the folds of which +emerged vague, bubbling sounds. The aunt bore +the demonstration with stoicism and with a certain +reservation of self. She was very much +unlike Dolly—tall and spare, with bushy brows, +beneath the deep arcade of which glowed two +limpid gray eyes. These eyes, during Dolly's +little performance, remained somehow outside of +the enveloping flutter. They peered over Dolly's +shoulder in an alert examination of the disorder +evident within the flat, and in their serene depths +a slight will-o'-the-wisp seemed discreetly dancing. +When finally Dolly's outburst had moderated, +the old lady spoke. "Where is the bath-room?" +she said.</p> + +<p>Dolly dropped her convulsive hold and drew +back a step. "The bath-room!" she exclaimed, +her eyes very big; "you want to know where the +bath-room is!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, the bath," repeated Auntie, as though +astonished at the astonishment.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p> +<p>Dolly showed it to her. A calmness had come +over her, a calmness of indignation. Auntie gave +the bottom of the tub a hurried cleaning, adjusted +the faucet to a tepid flow, dropped in the stopper, +and sat down on the edge of the porcelain as +the water rose within. "I'm going to give you +a bath," she announced to Dolly, who stood there +petrified with hurt amazement.</p> + +<p>And when the tub was full, she rose lightly to +her feet and began to take off Dolly's soiled +kimono. Dolly, in a daze, felt the garment slip +from her, and then slid into the warm, green pool, +which closed softly about her neck. "You lie +there a while," said Auntie; "I'll come back and +give you a shampoo."</p> + +<p>And Dolly remained alone in the steaming +room. Little by little, to the persistent caress +of the warm water, she felt her body relax; +she shut her eyes; from beneath the closed lids +tears exuded softly; they came freely, without +a pang. After a while, even these ceased. From +the bedroom came the sound of a bed being +rolled, a flapping of sheets, a whirring of +blinds. Auntie returned. "Now," she said +alacriously.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> +<p>Dolly's head was being rubbed; a snow-white +bubbly mountain was rising upon it, a mountain +like an island—that is to say, like that confection +known as a floating island; she could feel +on her scalp the wise, soothing fingers of her +aunt breaking down the resistance of her nerves; +her eyes, shut at first merely to keep out the +soap, remained closed in semi-ecstasy.</p> + +<p>"Now, out you go!" suddenly boomed a voice, +as a patter of water descended upon her head; +and Dolly stepped out into the vigorous embrace +of a turkish towel. It was passing over +her body with a firm, rotary motion as of machinery; +she swayed within it like a palm in a +tempest. It slid up into her hair and finally +twisted itself about it in a turban. A fresh +night-dress descended about her; "to bed, now," +said the voice.</p> + +<p>The room was gray and cool within the lowered +blinds; passively, Dolly slipped in between the +fresh white sheets; her head sank into the crackling +pillow. A little sob rose in her throat. +"O, Auntie," she said, "O-o-o."</p> + +<p>"Not a word now!" the capable lady immediately +broke in. "I know all about it. You<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> +can tell it to me when you wake up. Go to sleep +now."</p> + +<p>It was a pleasant sort of violence; as a harness +of flowers the obedience of Dolly's childhood +slipped again about her. She shut her eyes, then +like a puppy-dog snuggling to its mother, turned +and dug her round little nose into the pillow. A +snifflet of a sigh sounded—and as it sounded +became the first long breath of sleep.</p> + +<p>The Boston aunt stood some time by the bed, +tall and straight like a grenadier on watch. Suddenly +she stooped down and placed a kiss upon +the curve of cheek emerging from the folds of +the pillow. Immediately she was erect again. +"Poor darned little girl!" she said.</p> + +<p>She paused again, out in the dining-room, her +eyes far away. "<i>He</i> tried that once on me," she +said reminiscently. A gleam of humor lit up +her gray eyes. "I fixed him," she said decidedly. +And then, with some tenderness: "Poor great +big things," she said; "what chance have they +against us!"</p> + +<p>Upon which she went into the kitchen where +lay a pile of viscous dishes, eloquent of the home's +demoralization.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span></p> +<p>When Dolly emerged from her room some +twenty-four hours later, her face was pale and +her little nose was red, and she seemed a bit +dazed.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Dolly," said the Boston aunt, looking +up and giving the sofa-cushion she was arranging +a final thump; "hello, Dolly; come into the +kitchen and have some breakfast."</p> + +<p>Upon the gas stove she toasted bread and +poached two eggs, which she laid before Dolly +like two triumphant suns glowing through a fragrant +haze of coffee. Dolly successively suppressed +the joyous acclaim which instinctively +rose from her whole being at the sight; but she +ate. Rather mincingly, of course; but still, on +the whole, efficiently. At times she closed her +eyes, and then from beneath the lowered lids +a few tears came gliding without friction. +"Now," said the aunt, after the last crumb of +toast had disappeared; "let's go into the other +room and hear about it."</p> + +<p>She led the way into that little room, which +was fairly encumbered with coziness. She took +one of the rocking-chairs. Dolly sank into the +other. By keeping the same rhythm, there was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> +space for both to swing at the same time. Dolly +swayed back and forth three times, and then burst +into tears. "He has left me, Auntie; Goosie is +gone; ooh-ooh!" The aunt's chair ceased rocking +with an abruptness that made their knees +bump. Dolly's chair stopped; she looked at her +aunt in astonishment. Aunt Hester was sitting +up very straight. "Do you mean to say," she began, +and then paused as though unable to believe +the evidence; "do you mean to say," she went +on, "do you mean to say, Dolly Sims, that you +made me come down all the way from Boston +just because Charles-Norton is gone?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes," answered Dolly, petrified. "Why, +yes. Isn't that enough; isn't it <i>enough</i>? My +life is ruined! Ruined! Oo-oo-ooh"—and her +eyes, ablaze for an instant, became veiled by a +filmy cascade.</p> + +<p>"Pooh," said Aunt Hester, decidedly; "pooh. +Charles-Norton is gone; well, he'll come back."</p> + +<p>"He's not coming back," wailed Dolly, indignantly; +"he's <i>not</i>! He has dee-s-s-er-ted me!"</p> + +<p>"Deserted," jeered Aunt Hester. "Charles-Norton! +A fine chance Charles-Norton has to +desert you, Dolly! First of all, he couldn't make<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> +himself want to, no matter how much he tried. +And if he did want to, he couldn't. You wouldn't +let him, Dolly!"</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't let him! Oh! Do you think, +Auntie, that I am so low, so base, so devoid of +pride, as to keep a man who——"</p> + +<p>"Toot-toot," said Aunt Hester; "toot-toot—you +can't help it. Have you ever read that fellow +Darwin, Dolly?"</p> + +<p>"Darwin," said Dolly, rather astonished at the +turn taken by the conversation; "Darwin—did +he write 'When Knighthood was in +Flower'?"</p> + +<p>Aunt Hester opened her mouth like a fish suddenly +whisked out of water. She closed it again. +By the time she spoke, she had suppressed something. +"No, no, Dolly," she said. "<i>Darwin</i>, +the—well, it doesn't matter. We've been reading +him lately, anyway, at the Cooking Club. That +chap <i>knows</i> things, Dolly. He didn't tell me +anything I didn't know ahead myself; but he <i>explained</i> +lots of things I had found out. You +should read him."</p> + +<p>"I'll read him, Auntie," said Dolly, with dolorous +voice. "I suppose I'll have to read now, or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +paint china, or do something like that, now that +Charles, that Charles, that Charles——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Charles, Charles, Charles," echoed Aunt +Hester, but in much different tone; "you'll get +your Charles back. Charles-Norton! He has +as much chance to escape you—as the earth has +to stop whirling around. You baby! Why, +you've got all Nature on your side, plotting and +scheming for you. <i>His</i> dice are loaded; he can't +win!"</p> + +<p>"Aunty, what <i>are</i> you talking about! Here I +am, un-unhappy, and needing, needing, needing +friendship, and you sit and talk—I don't know +what."</p> + +<p>"For, what is Charles-Norton?" continued the +Boston lady, as though she had not heard Dolly. +"What is Charles-Norton? A man. Hence, a +clung-to."</p> + +<p>"A clung-to!" exclaimed Dolly, a dreadful +suspicion beginning to add itself to her greater +trouble.</p> + +<p>"Just so—a clung-to. And the direct heir of +hundreds and hundreds and thousands and thousands +of clung-tos. For of the men since the beginning +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> +of the world, Dolly, it's only the clung-tos +that survived, or rather that had babies that +survived——"</p> + +<p>"Auntie!" admonished Dolly.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," went on Aunt Hester, seemingly +misinterpreting Dolly's interruption. "They +alone had babies that survived. The babies of +the others—well, they starved, or fell into the +fire, or were massacred in the wars. So that +now there <i>are</i> no others. There are only descendants +of clung-tos, and hence clung-tos. +Charles-Norton, Dolly, is a clung-to!"</p> + +<p>"But, Auntie," protested Dolly, "he isn't any +horrid such thing. And he's gone, he's gone—and +I certainly won't <i>force</i> him to——"</p> + +<p>"And you, Dolly," pursued Aunt Hester, unruffled, +as though a professor addressing a group +of freshmen. "And you, Dolly, what are you? +A woman. Hence a cling-to."</p> + +<p>"A cling-to!" screamed Dolly.</p> + +<p>"Certainly. A cling-to. The end of a line +of thousands and thousands of cling-tos. For +of the women since the beginning of the world, +Dolly, which survived? The cling-tos. They +alone were able to live, and to have baby-girls +who survived—if cling-tos. The others, and the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +babies of the others, they starved; that's all, +Dolly, they starved. No mastodon steak for +them, Dolly; no nice wing-bone of ictiosaurus—they +starved. So that there are now no others—or +mighty few. You, Dolly, being alive and well +and a woman, are inevitably a cling-to."</p> + +<p>"Auntie! Auntie!" murmured Dolly, puzzled +and horrified.</p> + +<p>"To recapitulate," Aunt Hester swept on. +"To recapitulate: Charles-Norton is a clung-to; +you are a cling-to. Neither of you can help him +or herself. For it is the very essence of the +being of the one to hold, of the other to be +held."</p> + +<p>"How horrible!" said Dolly, with a shudder.</p> + +<p>"In other words, my dears," went on the aunt; +"in other words, you are <i>dreadfully</i> in love with +each other and can't keep apart."</p> + +<p>"Love!" moaned Dolly.</p> + +<p>"Love," the aunt repeated firmly.</p> + +<p>Dolly rocked for a time; tears again were +dropping fast from the end of her eye-lashes. +"But he <i>doesn't</i> love me," she wailed at length. +"And he <i>isn't</i> a, a—that horrid Chinesy word you +call him, and he is gone, gone!"</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p> +<p>"Oh, my dear, of course," said Aunt Hester; +"of course, things are not quite as simple as +I have been describing them. A woman has to +use some sense about it these days. This clinging +business has become more complicated with +civilization. You may have erred in the details. +Now, tell me what has happened, all that has +happened."</p> + +<p>And Dolly, in a rush of words, told the lamentable +story of her domestic woe, of her struggle +with the wings of Charles-Norton.</p> + +<p>Aunt Hester was silent for a time; then she +nodded her head affirmatively. "Yes, that's it, +my dear," she said. "It is as I suspected. You +have been clinging with your eyes shut. And in +these perilous times it is necessary to cling with +eyes open. You——"</p> + +<p>But Dolly had risen to her feet, vibrant. "Do +you mean to say," she began, and her voice was +very low and tense; "do you mean to say that I +should be subjected to living with a man—with +a man"—her voice rose—"with a man, Auntie, +who has <i>Wings</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dear!" exclaimed Aunt Hester, +hastily, "you mistake me. Of <i>course</i>, I am not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> +asking <i>that</i> of you. But that is not necessary +either. The essential—it is to let Charles-Norton +<i>believe</i> that he has his wings, not that he +should have them. And then, my dear, to be +frank, to be just, I must say that this seems +to me a case for compromise. Yes, dear, you +should allow Charles-Norton part of his wings; +oh yes, you should really let him have a bit of +these wings. And <i>that</i> bit, Dolly, if you are the +wise and capable little girl I think you can be, +you should turn to the advantage, to the preservation, +to the prosperity—hem—of the home!"</p> + +<p>Dolly sat down, weak and trembling. She was +silent for a long time. When she spoke again, +it was in a tired voice. "Auntie," she said, "you +mean well. I know that you are trying to help +me and am very thankful to you. But we have +differing views of Life. I am willing to do much +for Charles-Norton—Oh, so much! I am willing +to meet him half-way, three-quarters of the way, +the whole way, on ever so many things, and I +have done so. But when it comes to a question, +Auntie, of self-respect, of morality, of <i>Decency</i>, +then, Auntie, never! On that, there can be no +compromise. Charles-Norton cannot have wings."</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p> +<p>"Oh, very well," said Aunt Hester, plainly +nettled; "very well, very well. Then, what are +you going to do?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," said Dolly, decidedly. "I will give +him up," she said very firmly. "I will give him +up," she repeated grandiloquently. "I will give +him up," she said a third time—and broke out +weeping.</p> + +<p>"That," said Aunt Hester, "is what is known +as the <i>grand stunt</i>, and is rather popular these +days. I've seen many try it, and mighty few +achieve it. And you, Dolly"—she rose and stood +with a hand upon the shaking shoulders beneath +her—"and you, you little soft Dolly, why, you +are about the last——"</p> + +<p>"I shall not lift a finger," interrupted Dolly. +"If he, he, he does not love me, I, I shall, not +stoop to hold him!"</p> + +<p>"Well," said Aunt Hester, briskly, "I am going +now. I——"</p> + +<p>"Going!" cried Dolly, desolately.</p> + +<p>"I am going," repeated Aunt Hester, firmly. +"There is nothing I can do here. And there're +Earl's socks to be looked after (he is just entering +Cambridge, you know), and Ethel's frocks<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> +(she's at the High School), and then there is +your uncle—suppose he gets it into <i>his</i> head to +sprout feathers! No, no—I'm going home. <i>I'm</i> +willing to be what Nature said I had to be. <i>I</i> +don't take any chances with those new-fangled +grand-stunts. Besides, if you are just going to +do nothing, why, then, you can do that without +me."</p> + +<p>And setting her bonnet upon her nice gray +hair, Aunt Hester picked up her grip and +marched out into the hall.</p> + +<p>"Auntie! Auntie!" cried Dolly, running after +her.</p> + +<p>Aunt Hester stopped at the opened door and +turned. She confronted Dolly, and the will-o'-the-wisp +was dancing in the profundities of her +deep-set eyes. A tenderness came into them; she +dropped her grip, seized Dolly, and drew her +close.</p> + +<p>"Dear little Dolly," she whispered; "you'll do +it, don't you fear. You'll bring back your +Charles-Norton, you soft little woman, you; +you'll get him! And now, kiss me good-by. +Write to me—when you decide."</p> + +<p>The door closed, and leaning against it, Dolly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +wept a long time. Then she went within and in +a more comfortable position, wept more. She +wept for a whole week. And then, suddenly, one +afternoon, she stood up in the center of the room +and began stamping her foot.</p> + +<p>"I won't," she said, with each stamp of the +little foot. "I won't, I won't, I won't!"</p> + +<p>And saying "I won't," she did. She sat down +at the table and on her pale blue letter paper, +wrote:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Auntie</span>:—Yes, you were right, I guess. +I <i>am</i> a cling-to. I want him. I don't care: +he's mine and I <i>won't</i> give him up. Tell me how +to do it, Auntie, oh, tell me how! Quick, Auntie, +quick!"</p></div> + +<p>The answer was not long in coming. "Dearest +Little Dolly," wrote Aunt Hester; "of course, +I knew you would, and I am glad. As to telling +you how—well, that is very simple. Just go to +him, Dolly. Go to him (not too soon; wait a +while) and just stick around. Your instincts +will tell you the rest. Rely on your instincts, +Dolly," went on this incorrigible Darwinian.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> +"They are better than your reason, for they +are the reason of your mother and grandmother, +and all the line of mothers that came before you. +<i>They</i> had to be right, Dolly, or they wouldn't +have been, and then <i>you</i> wouldn't be. Go to +him, and stick around, and do as you feel like +doing. In all probability you'll be nice, and +humble, and snuggledy, and warm. And then, +make—your arrangements. <i>He</i> can't help himself. +Nature is on your side. His dice are +loaded. Cling, Dolly, cling."</p> + +<p>Dolly blushed. "Auntie is horrid," she said. +And then, after a while, "But right," she said.</p> + + +<hr /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p> +<hr /> + +<p class="cap">Meanwhile, unaware of this discussion +and of this decision, Charles-Norton, inflated +with fancied freedom, captain of +his soul and master of his Fate, was having a +beautiful time.</p> + +<p>Tableau:</p> + +<p>A meadow by a lake, on the western slope of +a high Sierra.</p> + +<p>Below, and far to the west, lies a great plain, +liquid with distance as though it were a sea of +gold. From its nearer edge, the land comes leaping +up in wide smooth waves of serried pines, to +the meadow. There the pines stop abruptly, in +the leaning immobility of a man who has almost +trodden upon a flower. From their feet the +meadow spreads, fresh and lush, susurant with +the hidden flow of a brook, and jeweled here +and there with flowers that are like butterflies. +It stops, in its turn, before a chute of smooth +granite in the form of a bowl. In the curve of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> +the bowl lies a lake—a silvery lake in the depths +of which dark blue hues pulse, and over the face +of which light zephyrs pass, like painted shivers.</p> + +<p>On the other side of the lake, to the east, +the land continues to rise, in accelerated assault, +first in long lustrous leaps of glacier-polished +granite, then in a chaos of dome and spire, and +finally breaks up against the sky in a serrated +edge like the top-crest of a great wind-flagellated +wave which, attacking Heaven, should have been +suddenly petrified by a Word.</p> + +<p>On the border of the pine-forest, its one door +upon the meadow and facing the lake, is a log-cabin.</p> + +<p>It is early morning, and the air is crisp and +cold. To the left of the cabin, in the dusk of +the trees, a fuzzy little donkey stands immobile +as if still frozen by the night.</p> + +<p>The sun, still behind the high crest to the +east, aureoles it with rose; its light passes in a +broad sheet athwart the sky, leaving the meadow +in a lower darkish plane, as if in the still half-light +of a profound sea; it strikes here and there, +among the pinnacles, a glacier that scintillates +frigidly. To the west, above the plain, which is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> +as yet but an opalescent gray shift, the last star +hangs humidly, like a tear at the end of a lash.</p> + +<p>The rose halo deepens along the mountain +top; the dark-blue dome of the sky fills with a +lighter azure; the star swoons, and the sun peers +over the crest. It ascends. Its rays plunge into +the pool of darkness still upon the meadow; they +pierce it, at first separately as with rapier +thrusts, and then finally billow down into it in a +cascade of molten gold. The shadows flee; the +sunlight strikes the cabin; and Charles-Norton +Sims appears at the door.</p> + +<p>Immediately, the little donkey, rousing to life, +comes braying to him across the green. Charles-Norton +gives him a handful of salt, and with a +slap sends him off again.</p> + +<p>And then he stands in the door-way with arms +folded, facing the sun. He is nude—except for +the abbreviated swimming-trunks which were his +last buy in New York—and to the light his skin, +polished like ivory, takes on a warm and subtle +glow. From his shoulders there hangs behind +him, to his heels, something that might be a cloak, +except that it does not cloak him. It does not +envelop him; rather does it stand behind him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> +in ornamental background, with a certain sculptural +effect. And it is white, a wondrous gleaming +white, against which the whiteness of his +skin seems rosy. Starting from his shoulders, +it goes out and up in gentle undulation to either +side, and then descends in two swift slight curves +that meet in a gothic tip at his heels. It is in +shape like a Greek urn, but has with it a flowing +quality—and the whiteness. It is like a Greek +urn of pure alabaster that would have turned +liquid, and would be pouring down behind him +in lustrous cascade.</p> + +<p>Charles-Norton steps forward—and suddenly +this background, this mantle, this singular ornament, +parts in two glistening sections which rise +horizontally to either side of him. By Jove, they +are wings! The wings of Charles-Norton. They +have been growing, since that <i>coup-de-tête</i> of +his.</p> + +<p>He raises them horizontally, and with a dry +rustling sound they open out like fans. He +waves them gently, up and down; his chest fills, +his head goes back; and from his open mouth, as +from a clarion, there goes out a great clear cry +which, striking the mountain, rebounds along<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> +from rock to rock in golden echoes. He rises into +the air.</p> + +<p>He goes up slowly, in wide, negligent circles, +with slow, strong flap of wings, his body, with +pointed feet close together, hanging lithe, a warm +ivory white between the colder and more radiant +whiteness of the wings. He turns and floats +above the lake, then, folding his wings, like a +white arrow shoots down into the water. A fountain +of foaming drops springs toward the sky. +Charles-Norton Sims is having his morning +bath.</p> + +<p>He swims with smooth breast-stroke, his feet +and hands below the water, but his wings raised +above. Their roots, at his shoulders, cleave the +glazed surface like a prow, leaving, behind, a +slender wake; they follow above, swinging a +bit from side to side, like glorious becalmed +sails.</p> + +<p>And thus, like a large Nautilus, he drifts to +the shore. He emerges, glistening, upon a little +beach which curves there like a little moon +dropped by a careless Creator; he takes a hop, +a skip, and a jump, and lands headlong upon the +yellow sand.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p> +<p>He stretches himself taut, his hands, straight +above him, clutching the sand, his toes digging +into it, and spreads his wings in fans at his sides. +The earth is there beneath him, in his embrace; +he feels her strength flowing into his veins. The +sun is up there, above him; he feels pouring upon +him, penetratingly, its hot life. Content croons +in his heart.</p> + +<p>But after a while, an uneasiness stirs him. He +moves vaguely several times, he finally rises to +his knees. Oh yes, of course, it is his stomach—the +old tyranny. He walks to the cabin, kicks +into incandescence the heap of coals in front of +the door, and throws a handful of dry brush upon +them. He seizes a long pole which is leaning +against the façade of the cabin, goes back to the +lake, climbs a large bowlder, and sitting himself +comfortably in a hollow of it, extends the pole, +and drops into the crystalline waters at his feet a +bit of red flannel. Immediately there is a small +convulsion and he whisks out of the lake a +vibrant little object that looks like a fragment of +rainbow. He whisks out another, another—twelve +in succession. He goes back to the fire +with his rainbows.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p> +<p>There, he—fries them; and—eats them.</p> + +<p>Upon which he squats contentedly upon the +grass, and fills and lights his pipe. He sits there +very quietly, his feet drawn up, his wings behind +him like a resplendent mantle; he smokes gravely +his little black pipe. His eyes are half-closed, +watching the hazy blue puffs of the bowl rise toward +the turquoise-blue dome of the sky. Far +above him, a hawk is circling; to the sight, after +a while, a vague melancholy enters his heart, a +subtle and inexplicable yearning. He rises +slowly to it, his pipe dropping from his loosened +lips. He tucks the pipe into his trunks (that is +why he wears the trunks); his wings spread out +to both sides. He gives a little spring—and is up +in the air.</p> + +<p>He hovers above the meadow a while, a bit +aimlessly, as though waiting for an inspiration, +rising, falling, rising with slow strong flap of +wing—then suddenly he is off, like a streak, in a +whirring diagonal for the high crests. He +dwindles, higher and higher, farther and farther, +smaller and smaller, till finally he is among the +tip-top pinnacles, a mere white palpitation, a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +snow-flake in the whirl of a capricious wind, a little +glistening moth flitting from glacier to glacier +as from lily to lily.</p> + +<p>Down in the deserted meadow, the little donkey +opens his mouth creakingly, and throws forth a +lonesome bray.</p> + + +<hr /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> +<hr /> + +<p class="cap">This is what Charles-Norton Sims is doing +while his little wife, back in New York, +sits desolate in her empty flat.</p> + +<p>On the fourth day of his flight, sitting at the +wide window of a Pullman which was clicking +slowly along a high summit, he had caught between +two snow-sheds a rapid glimpse of this +nook in the chaos of the World. In a picture +flashed clear for a moment to his eyes, he had seen +the cabin, the meadow, and the lake; and his +heart had given a leap like that of the anchor of a +ship which at last has come to port. When, thirty +minutes later, the train, now on the down-grade, +had slid with set brakes by a little mining-camp +huddled at the foot of a great red scar torn in the +heart of a slanting pine forest, Charles-Norton, +without more ado, had seized his grip and his +blankets, and sidling out to the platform, had +jumped lightly and neatly to the ground.</p> + +<p>When the last gleaming rail of the train had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +vanished around a bend, Charles-Norton descended +to the camp. It was a decrepit camp, +the mine having given out. Charles-Norton +found the whole population in the general store. +It consisted of five men, about which seemed +thrown an invisible but heavy cloak of somnolence. +They had entered languidly but politely +into his plans. The storekeeper had gladly +parted with one-third of the comestible stock +which was slowly petrifying on shelf and rafter; +a little burro, grazing on the dump, had been +transformed into a pack-animal; and after +standing treat three times around, Charles-Norton, +leading by a rope his fuzzy four-footed companion, +to a great flapping of amicable sombreros +had taken the trail winding toward the +high hills.</p> + +<p>The little burro, now obscurely melancholic, +grazed in the meadow. Within the cabin, depending +from the smoke-polished rafters, a sack of +flour, a bag of sugar, a ham, and several sides of +bacon were strung, while a pyramid of tins +leaned against the blackened fireplace. The bunk +against the right wall held Charles-Norton's +blankets; the one on the left wall was empty. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>In spite of this empty bunk, which at times +yawned with an air of vague reproach, the cabin, +with its wide fireplace, in the center of which a +rotund kettle hung, with its neatly strung and +stacked provisions, had a certain coziness, a +sober, sedate expression of assurance for days to +come.</p> + +<p>And it was a fine life to live.</p> + +<p>He would get up early in the morning, and +reached the sill of the door with the sun. He +would have his swim, his breakfast, and his +smoke—and then he was off.</p> + +<p>He was off for an all-day winged romp. He +made straight for the crest at first and lit upon +the tip-top of its highest pinnacle, rising there +out of the rocky chaos like an exclamation of +gleaming granite. Its top, hollowed by the +weathers, made a seat which just fitted him. To +the north and to the south, the saw-toothed crest +extended for miles to purple disappearances; +within its folds, here and there, a glacier scintillated +like a jewel. To the west and to the east, +the mountain descended; at first in a cataract of +polished domes and runs, then in long velvety +waves of stirring pines, and finally in pale-yellow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +foothills, to the plains. These were very far and +were elusive of aspect. Sometimes they were as +a haze; sometimes like a carpet of twined flowers +upon a slowly heaving sea; sometimes they +were liquid, and then the one to the east was +bluishly white, like milk, the one to the west like +pooled molten gold.</p> + +<p>Charles-Norton sat here long, his elbow on his +knees, his chin in his hand, his wings drooping behind, +along the perpendicular smoothness of the +rock, and pondered his happiness. A profound +satisfaction was within him; it was as if his +blood, at last, were flowing submissively along a +great cosmic stream, to some eternal behest. +After a time, he rose a-tip-toe, like a diver above +a gleaming sheet, extended his wings, and +sprang.</p> + +<p>At first he dropped plumb, into the abyss; then +his spread wings caught the air and held his fall. +He gave one soft flap, and then another, and rose. +He floated upward; he was even with the top of +the pinnacle, passed it slowly, saw it beneath his +feet, and still, with slow, strong beat of wing, +continued ascending. It was joyous work; he +rose on powerful pinion; it was as if his head<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> +and shoulders continuously were emerging from +one layer of the atmosphere into another +more fresh and clear and more beautiful; the +air streamed along his skin in a clean, cold +caress that enveloped his soul. He passed big +sad eagles that flew with lowered beaks, their +wrinkled and worried eyes upon the peaks below; +he laughed, and astounded, they fell off beneath +him in vertiginous circles. The earth beneath +was like a bowl, a bowl full of plashing sunshine. +He kept on up, rising straight in the cold +and hollow air, into a great silence, the only +sound that of his wings, beating a solemn measure. +He looked no longer down, now. Head +rearing back, face to the sun, with half-closed +eyes he went on up with outspread wings, an +ecstasy clutching at his heart; clutching at it, +clutching at it, till finally it was too exquisite +to bear, and half-swooning, with dangling pinion +he let himself swoop back through the dizzy +spaces, back to the earth.</p> + +<p>Again upon his pinnacle, he lay very still, +long, on his back, breathing deeply, while slowly +the ecstatic languor left his body. He was a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> +little afraid of this game, this perpendicular assault +of infinities, and allowed it to himself only +once a day. It was his dissipation; there was +something vaguely perilous in the absorption of +it. So, having rested now, he betook himself to +less audacious pastimes.</p> + +<p>He selected a peak some ten miles away, and +shot to it in a line which was impeccably straight. +Then he repeated the flight, this time in a slight +even curve, flowing and smooth as the rise, swell, +and gradual fall of a musical chord. The next +time, he flew to the peak in a zipping parabola +that was as the course of a rocket.</p> + +<p>This game was the consummation of the old +yearning which, in days gone by, had impelled +him to draw lines upon a sheet of paper. Where +before, miserably and inadequately, tormented +by a sense of impotence, he had drawn with a +pencil lines upon paper, he now drew, with his +whole gleaming white body, stupendous lines of +beauty upon the blue of the sky.</p> + +<p>He liked this. He sensed his evolution. He +seemed to have within his brain a delicate instrument +that recorded the movements of his body. +As he cut through the azure, each flown line was +deposited within him in a record of beauty. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> +flew from peak to peak, in lean, sizzling white +lines; in shooting diagonals; in gentle floating +curves; in zig-zags as of lightning; in rising and +drooping lines that hoped and despaired; in soarings +that aspired and broke; in arabesques that +laughed; in gothic arches that prayed; in large +undulations that wept. Sometimes he drew +whole edifices—fairy castles, domes, towers, +spires—which, once created, went floating off forever +on the blue, freighted with their fantastic +inhabitants, invisible, impalpable, and imperishable. +And always within him was the record of +the created thing, the record of created beauty, +etched forever in the inner chamber of his soul.</p> + +<p>Sometimes he played with his shadow; he tried +to lose it. With a sudden bound that was meant +to take it unaware, he was off, along the crest, at +vertiginous speed. He went on thus, mile after +mile; mile after mile, razing the peaks, he passed +along the crest like a white thunderbolt, his +wings a blur, his body streaming behind like an +arrow. His head struck the air, broke it, parted +it; it slid along his flanks in a caress that penetrated +to his heart. But always beneath him, +like a menace in water-depths, springing from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> +peak to peak in huge flaccid leaps, stubborn and +black his shadow followed him.</p> + +<p>Of all the lines he knew, however, the one that +he loved best was the one he drew when returning +to the cabin at sunset. He would come to +the meadow from the mountains at a high +altitude, and then, placing himself carefully +above it, he would fold his wings and drop.</p> + +<p>He shot down like an arrow, in a long palpitant +line, and then, two hundred yards from +the sward, opened his wings in an explosion of +fluffy whiteness.</p> + +<p>Out of this line he obtained a profound sensation +of beauty, of beauty in simplicity. It was +as though he had drawn a long, slender stalk +that opened in a white chalice; as though he had +planted a flower, a cosmic flower, there in the +bosom of the sky.</p> + +<p>In the evening, after his meal and his pipe, he +winged away to a last adventure which was as a +prayer. Leaving the warm glow of his camp-fire, +he soared upward into the violet night. The +earth fell away beneath him, a blue blur, a +shadow, till finally the shadow itself whelmed in +nocturnal profundities, and of the earth there<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> +remained nothing but the little fire, the little +fire gleaming red in the clearing. He rose. The +night accepted him with silence and solemnity, +in a velvety envelopment. He rose. The stars, +at first, were all above him; gradually new cohorts +of them appeared to his right and his left, +on all sides; and finally, his fire, down in the +clearing, itself become a star, closed a perfect +sphere. He was the center of a universe of stars; +the soft beating of his wings was as the hushed +tolling of their eternities; the rustle of his wings +the crackling of their flames. They moved as +he moved; always their center, he could not approach +them. And thus encircled, sometimes +bewildered, he lost his way. He forgot which +star was his; seized with sudden fright, he +winged one way and another in mad dashes toward +cold orbs which fled him.</p> + +<p>But always, finally remembering, he could +find his way merely by folding his wings.</p> + +<p>He folded his wings, and immediately, of all +the stars the little winking red one came rushing +to him while the others slid by. It came +rushing to him fiercely, with a sort of jealous and +almost ludicrous haste, its face red with effort. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>And with it came the earth, a shadow, a fragrance; +its warm, sweet breath fanned his cheek. +Spreading largely his wings, he lit softly upon +the meadow-grass, by the little fire, by the cabin, +home for the night.</p> + + +<hr /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p> +<hr /> + +<p class="cap">Man changes. Toward the end of summer, +Charles-Norton found himself insensibly +altering the glorious routine of his altitudinous +existence.</p> + +<p>One day he was tempted by the great plain +that lay golden in the West. Idly, he let himself +float down the mountain sides, in long descending +diagonals, and suddenly found himself above +a farm in the plain. In the backyard, children +were playing; a man was sharpening a plowshare +at a wheel, and out of the kitchen-shed +there came a clatter of dishes and the voice of +a woman in song. Seized by a sudden perverse +humor, Charles-Norton swooped into the chicken-yard +and snatched a hen which, feeling herself +rising in his hand, straightway shut her eyes and +died of imagination. A scream rose from the +earth, and looking down, Charles-Norton saw the +three little children, legs apart, hands behind +them, gazing up with white eyes; the man, back<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +to the wheel, had his mouth open, as if inviting +his vanishing fowl to drop back into it; and out +of the kitchen door a wide woman suddenly +popped, her lips working in malediction. His +amusement a bit dampened by this consternation +and by the unforeseen conduct of the hen, +Charles-Norton went winging back, the dead fowl +dangling at the end of his arm, to his retreat, and +that night, when the pangs of his conscience had +somewhat moderated, enjoyed the best dinner he +had had for many days.</p> + +<p>This incident reawakened in Charles-Norton +a certain interest in human-kind. He began to +visit the Valley more often.</p> + +<p>The Valley was some hundred miles south of +his meadow. It was a great cleft that split the +mountain range from crest to center. Its walls +were perpendicular and glacier-polished, and +sculptured at the top into smooth domes and +fretted spires. Down these sheer walls, here and +there, coming to them without suspicion, whole +rivers fell—some in rockets of diamonds, others +chastely, in thin flight, like shifting and impalpable +veils, others in great lustrous columns +that struck the rocky bottom with thunderous<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> +impact and rebounded high in clouds of pulverized +silver.</p> + +<p>The Valley seemed full of people. They came +in from the West, in stages. They lived in a +large structure, at the bottom, which Charles-Norton +surmised to be a hotel, and hundreds +camped along the banks of the river, which +wound light-green through the dark-green +meadows. They wandered about incessantly, +like ants; most of the time, at the bottom, but a +good deal of the time also along the vertical +sides, toiling pantingly up narrow trails, laid +like the coils of a riata, till they reached points +of vantage—domes, pinnacles, heads of falls—whereupon +they immediately sat down and devoured +sandwiches.</p> + +<p>When Charles-Norton had first discovered the +Valley, he had fled from it at the sight of human +beings. But now, often, a secret impulse urged +him to it. He spent days there, crouching upon +the top curve of a great half-dome from which +he could look down and watch the little beings +at their lives—walking about, cooking their +meals, eating them, or following the arduous +windings of the trails with sweating noses. At<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> +night their fires twinkled red; and once, when +Charles-Norton, wrapped in the secrecy of the +dark, had slowly floated the whole length of the +Valley above them, there had come to him, softened +and blended by distance, the harmony of +their voices in song.</p> + +<p>At first, he had felt but disdain for them, but +gradually another feeling had come to him, they +were so slow, and crawly, and helpless—and yet +so indomitable. A vague pity, almost a respect, +swelled within him as he watched them panting, +and perspiring, and toiling up the slopes, reaching +thus with untold effort heights insignificant +to him, from which they presently tumbled down +again after their inevitable lunch of sandwiches. +This new interest expressed itself rudimentarily +in a perverse desire to tease them. Yielding to it +one afternoon, in broad daylight he sailed the +whole length of the Valley, going slowly, resplendent +in the sun. He could see the little beings +gather in groups, and see the little yellow +faces screwed up toward him; and upon the stage, +gliding in from the West like a Cinderella coach +drawn by six white mice, all the passengers were +standing with milling arms. With a few strong<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> +beats, he whizzed out of range and returned to +his meadow, chuckling.</p> + +<p>He was back again the next day, though, and +the next; and of evenings he began to hover about +the Upper Inn.</p> + +<p>The Upper Inn was a little chalet built +on the edge of the Valley's northern wall. It +crouched there, small as a toy in the chaos of +huge domes surrounding it, backed up against a +great granite-rooted tamarack as if in fear of the +abyss yawning at its feet. From its veranda, +a glance fell sheer, along the glacier-polished +wall, to the valley floor, three thousand feet +below.</p> + +<p>Charles-Norton, of evenings, liked to hover in +the void in front of the Inn, his head even with +the veranda, his body dangling beneath, while +he looked through the glass door into the hall +within.... Always a red fire glowed there, +within a large black fireplace; and about it, men +and women, in garments fresh and clean after +the day's climbing, sat chatting or reading. +Among them was a young woman who interested +Charles-Norton. She was slim and very fair, +with hair that lay light upon her head as a golden<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> +vapor, and she wore upon her shoulders, negligently +draped, a scarf within the white shimmer +of which a color glowed like a flame. Beside +her nearly always hovered a big young fellow, +dark and handsome, but who did not seem very +happy.</p> + +<p>One evening she rose abruptly, and before +Charles-Norton could guess her intention, she +had opened the door, and was out upon the veranda, +gazing toward him with eyes yet blind +with the darkness. Charles-Norton did not +move. They two remained thus long, she looking +straight out into the void, divining perhaps—who +knows?—a vague palpitant whiteness, like a +soul, out there in the night; he, moving his +great wings slowly and softly, while his heart +within him thumped loud. Then he let himself +sink silently, till beneath the plane of the Inn's +floor, circled, and rising again, took a position +at the end of the veranda, from which, peering +around the corner of the house, he could still observe +her.</p> + +<p>She stood there, tight against the rail, as +though she had brought up abruptly against it, +making impetuously for the void. He could see<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> +her slight pliant form, silhouetted against the +jeweled horizon; upon her shoulders, her scarf +floated like a vague phosphorescence, and her face +was whitely turned toward the stars. He heard +her take a long deep breath of the night, and +then her arms went up and out in a vibrant +gesture.</p> + +<p>She remained thus, a long moment, her eyes toward +the stars, her arms toward the stars, and her +whole slender body, arched slightly backward, +seemed to offer itself to the stars. Then suddenly +her head dropped, her arms dropped, and +she straightened, leaning against the rail. The +door behind had opened and closed again, and +upon the veranda, now, was the big loom of another +form, a form which carried, at the height +of the head, a warm pulsing glow, like the incandescent +point of a red-heated poker.</p> + +<p>They stood immobile, the two, a long time. +She had not stirred since her first start; she remained +with her back to the door, her eyes out +into the void. Then the point of light on the +larger form slid down, till it dangled at the end of +what Charles-Norton guessed was an arm, and a +low voice toned in the silence. "Why did you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> +leave me?" he said; "why do you always leave +me?"</p> + +<p>Her voice answered immediately, clear and +warm as a red crystal. "Oh, I wanted to say +good-by to the stars," she said; "I wanted to say +good-by to the stars!"</p> + +<p>"And why did you want to say good-by to the +stars?" he asked, speaking softly, as to a child.</p> + +<p>"Because," she said, "I am leaving them. Because +I am leaving the stars."</p> + +<p>"And why are you leaving the stars?" he +asked, taking a step toward her.</p> + +<p>She turned toward him, now, and laid both her +hands lightly upon his shoulders. "Because, +John, I am going to you," she said; "because, +John, I love you."</p> + +<p>"Dora!" he cried.</p> + +<p>She arrested him with a gesture. "I have +loved you long, John," she went on; "I have +loved you long—but I have fought it, fought it, +fought it, John!"</p> + +<p>"And why have you fought it?" he asked, +again gently, as to a child.</p> + +<p>"Because, John—oh, I don't know. Because, +John, there is something within me—which I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> +don't know. Something which yearns, John—for +I don't know what. For peaks, John, for skies, +for the stars; for—I don't know——"</p> + +<p>"Dora, Dora," he said, a bit sadly.</p> + +<p>"And so I fought it, John, I fought your love. +But it has poured into me, John, as honey fills a +chalice; gradually, sweetly, it has filled my veins, +my blood, my heart, John. And to-night, John, +my whole being was swollen with it, John, with +the love of you, John, and I came out to say +good-by to the stars——"</p> + +<p>"Dora!" he cried again; and this time enveloped +her in his arms.</p> + +<p>A horrid, impish feeling suddenly pricked +Charles-Norton; taking wing he slid along the +veranda and seized, as he passed, from the +shoulders of the girl, the scarf, from the conceited +head of the young man, his derby hat, and flapped +off with them in the darkness. The crash of an +astonished chair and a faint little cry followed +him for a moment, then dropped off behind.</p> + +<p>Charles-Norton laughed all the way home. +Half-way over he dropped, into the deepest abyss +he knew, the derby hat, which arrived at the bottom, +no doubt, in very bad condition. But the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> +scarf was still with him as he alighted in the +meadow and felt against his hand the humid +greeting of Nicodemus, the lonely little donkey.</p> + +<p>Across the cabin, as he went to sleep, the +empty bunk yawned, somehow, with unusual insistence. +"I wonder what Dolly is doing," he +said vaguely, as he slid down the slumber-chute.</p> + + +<hr /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p> +<hr /> + +<p class="cap">Dolly was getting along very well, thank +you. Mostly, she was reading the papers. +For if Charles-Norton thought for a moment +that his indiscretions were to go unrecorded, +he was very much mistaken.</p> + +<p>Cuddled in the big Morris chair of the little +flat, a be-ribboned sack loose about her comfortable +little body, her head golden in the soft cascade +of light falling from the lamp, an open box +of candy at her elbow, Dolly was reading the +evening paper. It was all about Charles-Norton +Sims, the paper, though it did not mention him +by name, but variously, according to the temperaments +of its correspondents, as a condor, an ichthyosaurus, +the moon, an aeroplane, a Japanese +fleet, a myth, a cloud, a hallucination, a balloon, +and a goose. As she read, she alternately frowned +and laughed. Her brows would draw together +very seriously, and then suddenly her red lips +would part to let through a sparkling rocket of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> +laughter, and then her brows would again knit in +concern. The laughter was of triumph at seeing +her prophecy come true, for of course, all the +time, she had known that Charles-Norton, left +alone, would make a fool of himself; the concern +was at the thought that, still alone, he would +continue to make a fool of himself.</p> + +<p>"Well," she said finally, as the paper slipped +from her knees to the floor; "well, it's about +time I rescued the poor dear. I must go to +him."</p> + +<p>She sat gazing mentally back over the lonely +two months, the period of her existence now +about to terminate, and was astonished to find +that, after all, it had not been so bad. Ever +since the first crisis, ever since she had made +up her mind to hold on to Charles-Norton, the +worst, somehow, had been over. It had seemed +as if, that determination once made, there was +little left to worry over, that things could not +possibly come out wrong, that the cosmos itself +was with her. And so, she had not worried. +And she had had a pretty good time; a pretty +good time. Better, in fact, in some ways +than——</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p> +<p>"Sh-sh-sh," she hissed, stilling the thought.</p> + +<p>But why was that?</p> + +<p>Well, first of all, there had been the engrossing +mystery of the spring hat; this, followed by the +still more exciting problem of the summer hat; +and now she was planning for the fall hat—she +had seen the cutest feathery toque, that came +low down about her face, pushing to all sides +little wisps of golden curls and making her look—well, +very nice indeed. Then, of course, there +had been less housework, and she had had much +more time to herself, more time and more freedom. +The acquaintance with Flossie, the young +wife of the floor-walker in the flat across the +landing, had helped a lot. Together they had +plunged deep into the intoxication of the shops. +And several times they had gone off, a bit defiantly, +on little orgies. They would go to the +matinee, and then have a chocolate ice-cream soda +at Huyler's, and called that "having a fling." +All this, of course, had been impossible when +Charles-Norton had been about. But why? Oh, +because he worked so hard, and there wasn't +much, there wasn't so much——</p> + +<p>Dolly paused and blushed. "Oh, that money,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> +she said deprecatingly; "that horrid, horrid +mon——"</p> + +<p>She rose to her feet to a sudden new thought +and went into her room, where from beneath ribbons, +stockings, gloves, and theater-programmes, +she drew out of a drawer a little yellow book and +a longer, more narrow, green one.</p> + +<p>When she returned, she was a bit pale, and +sank rather limply into her chair. "Ooh," she +exclaimed disconsolately; "ooh, now I've <i>got</i> to +get to him; get to him <i>soon</i>!"</p> + +<p>Go to him. But where—how—where?</p> + +<p>She knew where he was now, it is true—but +only relatively. The first report of his antics +had come from a little town in the California +foothills; the second from a summer resort in a +Valley of the Californian Sierra. He was being +reported pretty well all over the United States +now, but the first news in all probability were the +only valuable clew. They were desolately vague +though. A man who flies covers much ground. +Where did he sleep? Where was his lair—or his +nest, rather? It was sleeping, not flying, that +he was to be caught. How could she locate him? +It would take time, to do this, and money. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>And the check-book—oh, Lordie, that check-book!</p> + +<p>Little Dolly, always at the bottom a pretty +level-headed creature, had become wonderfully +patient in the past month. Patient with a determination +fixed as a star, as a law of Nature; a +determination which was stronger far than herself; +which was outside herself; which she could +feel, almost, a huge pressure behind her, as of +great reservoirs filled through trickling æons; +and which astonished her. She had written of +it, once, to her aunt.</p> + +<p>"Dear Dolly," had answered this Darwinian +lady; "you are right. It is not of you. It is of +all women that have gone before you, of the millions +and millions of women who have fought, +and plotted, and intrigued in order to keep alive +the spark of Life and hand it down to you. It is, +Dolly, the Persistence of Woman; the inexorable +persistence of Woman, Dolly, holding Man. +Holding Man, Dolly, in spite of his superior +physical strength, of his superior brutality; holding +him through the ages. The terrific persistence +of Woman holding Man, Dolly, Man—the +restless, the moody, the incomprehensible; the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> +erratic one, ever dissatisfied, ever bounding to +the end of his chain in blind surges toward +painted things of the air which <i>we</i> know do not +exist.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no; you cannot help it, dear little Dolly. +Cling, Dolly, cling!"</p> + +<p>"That's horrid," Dolly had said, when she had +finished this epistle.</p> + +<p>And then, after a while, but this time with a +smile; "how <i>perfectly</i> horrid!"</p> + +<p>But now, this patience, this persistence, was +indeed a precious thing. It enabled her to wait +calmly for the turn of chance which would enable +her to find Charles-Norton. She read the +papers every day. Truth to tell, they promised +little help, for by this time they were announcing +Charles-Norton simultaneously in New Orleans, +Quebec, Key West, and Victoria. Wisely, Dolly +had preserved the first clippings. And after all, +it was from the papers that was to come the +solution. The paper, one morning, after describing +appearances of Charles-Norton in Vladivostock, +Paris, and Timbuctoo, had slid from her +knees to the floor, when her eyes lit upon an advertisement +on the up-turned back-page.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p> +<p class="center"><br />BISON BILLIAM<br /> +<br /> +AND<br /> +<br /> +HIS WORLD-RENOWNED WILD-WEST SHOW<br /> +<br /> +PERMANENTLY<br /> +<br /> +NOW<br /> +<br /> +AT THE HIPPODROME<br /> +<br /> +NIGHTLY<br /> +<br /> +* * *<br /> +<br /> +HENRIQUE FARMANO, IN HIS AEROPLANE,<br /> +<br /> +WILL FLY +<span class="plarge">FIFTY</span> FEET!! +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +</p> + +<p>"Ooh!" said Dolly, suddenly clapping both +her hands to her heart; "ooh, I've got it!"</p> + +<p>She sat there, a little weak with excitement, +while a rosiness came to her cheeks and a light in +her eyes. "Yes," she said at length; "yes; +that's it!"</p> + +<p>Upon which she dressed very carefully, put on +her hat, and went downtown to the Hippodrome.</p> + +<p>Once there, she hesitated a moment before the +glazed-glass door with its shining brass plate, +then knocked like a little mouse. A big bass +voice told her to come in.</p> + +<p>The owner of the voice was seated at the desk, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> +leaning back in his rolling-chair, a big firecracker +of a cigar in the corner of his mouth. +His feet were on the desk, and Dolly noticed them +first: they were encased in high-heeled boots that +seemed very soft and fitted like gloves. A soft, +wide-brimmed felt hat sat rakishly upon his head. +Hat, cigar, and boots dropped to a simultaneous +disappearance. The man rose, and Dolly saw +that his hair was very white and long, and cascaded +in curls to his shoulders; and that, what +with this hair, the little white goatee at the +end of his chin, and the long rapier-like mustachios, +of the same color, upon his upper lip, he +looked like a French musketeer of the seventeenth +century. He bowed, sweepingly. Now he was +like a Spanish grandee. But the little eyes beneath +his bushy eyebrows were blue and shrewd.</p> + +<p>Recovering from her first movement of surprise, +Dolly made straight for the desk, her eyes +set, her lips firm. "Mr. Bison Billiam?" she +asked.</p> + +<p>He bowed again in assent. "And at your service, +madam," he said, and bent his head down +toward her in courteous attention.</p> + +<p>But at the first rush of words from her, an +agitation came over him; his shrewd little eyes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> +flitted here and there about the room as though +suspicious. He stopped her with a wide gesture. +"Sh-sh," he hissed gently; "this is very important +indeed; we must not be overheard. Won't +you step into my private office. Do me this +favor," he asked, opening a heavily-paneled door +behind him.</p> + +<p>Dolly had a glimpse of a broad polished mahogany +table, of heavy chairs. She went in; he +followed her; the door closed.</p> + +<p>Fifteen minutes later, she stood again at the +outer door, Bison Billiam, knob in hand, arching +above her in deferential leave-taking. "I will see +to everything," he assured her; "everything. +This is certainly most worthy of being looked +into. And I shall do it myself. Myself," he +repeated, emphasizing the two little syllables as +though that fact were of tremendous importance; +"myself." He bowed again, to the ground. The +door closed.</p> + +<p>Dolly, alone on the landing, suddenly slid the +length of the hall in an airy jig. "Oh," she said, +"we're going to be rich. I'll have a butler; and +things!"</p> + +<p>"Clang!" went the elevator, stopping at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> +floor. Dolly abruptly became again a very dignified +little lady. Once out on the street, however, +she went straightway to the milliner's, +where she purchased almost with the last of her +bank account the coveted fall hat. It was a +furry toque, with a white aigrette; it came down +to her ears and made her look like a little +Cossack.</p> + + +<hr /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p> +<hr /> + +<p class="cap">On the other side of the continent, Charles-Norton's +retreat began to be haunted.</p> + +<p>He was taking his flight above the lake, +one morning, in the cool gold of sunrise, when +suddenly a suspicion, a vague sensing of peril, +passed like a cloud between him and the light. +Immediately he let himself eddy to the beach, and +there, stretched low along the sand, with craning +neck he peered carefully about him.</p> + +<p>At first he could see nothing. Twice he half +rose to resume his flight, but each time flattened +out again to the same subtle sense of presence. +And at last, with a thump of his heart, he saw +him—on the edge of the meadow, a man upon a +horse, in the dusk of the pines.</p> + +<p>They stood there, man and beast, framed by the +pines, immobile and silent. The horse was a +beautiful silken white, with a bridle of twisted +rawhide heavily plaqued with silver; the saddle, +of high-pommeled Spanish style, was also heavily<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> +incrusted; and the man sat it as though he had +been poured molten into it. He wore a wide, +flapping sombrero, set cavalierly upon long white +hair that descended to the shoulders of his +fringed buckskin jacket; the belt at his waist +drooped loosely to the weight of a great holster, +out of which protruded the lustrous butt of a +silver-mounted revolver; long gleaming boots rose +to his hips, their toes within carved tapaderos, +their heels, high to the point of feminity, roweled +with long rotary spurs.</p> + +<p>They stood there a long time, man and beast, +motionless, a sculptured group but for the slight +forward pricking of the horse's pointed ears, +and the man gazed steadily at Charles-Norton, +his eyes shaded by his heavily-buckskinned hand. +Charles-Norton, hypnotized, gazed back. There +was something about the man, his flaming accouterment, +specially about the gesture—the +theatric peering from beneath gauntleted hand—which +somehow stirred Charles-Norton with a +sense of past experience. They gazed thus long +at each other in immobility and silence; then +suddenly there ran lightly through the meadow +the resonance of a champed bit; the horse, rising<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> +on his hind legs, pivoted, the man's waist bending +pliably to the movement—and they were gone. +A soft thudding of hoofs came muffled through +the trees; it rose to a flinty clatter, which in its +turn diminished, and ceased.</p> + +<p>Charles-Norton, after a while, went on with his +usual routine. He had his swim, his breakfast, +and his pipe. But an uneasiness was with him +now; he cast abrupt, suspecting glances about +him, about his profaned retreat. And during the +day's long flight, something seemed to follow him +like an impalpable menace.</p> + +<p>When he returned at sundown, the man was +again there. This time he was among the rocks +overlooking the cabin, and was afoot, his white +horse motionless behind him with long bridle +dropped to the ground. Charles-Norton watched +him from behind a tree. He stood there long, his +right hand negligently upon the horse's neck, his +left hand shielding his eyes as he looked; and +to the posture, somehow, the whole landscape +gradually changed its aspect, seemed to take on +an air subtly theatrical, the waning sunlight like +calcium, the rocks like cardboard, the trees +painted. "Where, oh, where have I seen that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> +before?" murmured Charles-Norton, intrigued in +the midst of his panic.</p> + +<p>The man mounted, the horse came forward, and +with a silvery tinkle of spur and bit, they went +slowly across the meadow and into the forest, toward +the trail that led to the camp.</p> + +<p>"<i>Where</i> have I seen that geezer before?" murmured +Charles-Norton again, as he was going to +sleep that night.</p> + +<p>The question was to remain unanswered. The +man did not appear again. But on the Sunday +following, at dusk, as the lake was aflash with +leaping trout, Dolly came running to him out of +the trees.</p> + + +<hr /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p> +<hr /> + +<p class="cap">Dolly came suddenly out of the fringe of +the trees. It was dusk; the lake was +aflash with leaping trout. And she came +to him across the darkened meadow like a fawn +panting for her retreat. He stood there petrified, +but as she neared, felt his arms open in an irresistible +and large movement; she nestled within +them, her head on his heart.</p> + +<p>They stood there long, without speaking a +word, in the center of the dusky meadow, by the +sparkling lake. Her face was on his breast; his +arms were about her, but his eyes were looking +straight ahead into the obscurity. He could feel +her palpitate softly against him, and a tenderness +like a warm pool was collecting in his +heart.</p> + +<p>"Dolly!" he said at length.</p> + +<p>But she did not answer; only pushed farther +into his embrace in a blind little snuggling movement +like that of a puppy. He dropped his eyes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> +down upon her, slyly. He could see her shoulders, +agitated as if she were weeping, and a wisp of +her golden hair, and one tip of a rosy ear; and +then, nearer, he saw the furry toque with its +white aigrette.</p> + +<p>"You little Cossack!" he said, a bit huskily.</p> + +<p>Again there was a silence; then he felt the +vibration of her muffled voice against his chest. +"Do you like it?" she asked timidly.</p> + +<p>"It's dandy," he said.</p> + +<p>The silence that followed was like that of a +kitten after a cup of cream. Then the voice +sounded again within the depths of his embrace.</p> + +<p>"O, Goosie," she sobbed; "I've been so miserable!"</p> + +<p>"Poor little girl," he growled, above there in +the dark; "poor little girl!"</p> + +<p>"All my money is gone, Goosie—and the janitor +was impolite and treated me dreadfully, and +oh, Goosie, I've had such a terrible time!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, yes," he said soothingly (I'll kill +that janitor, he thought, gnashing his teeth).</p> + +<p>"Goosie," began the voice again; "you won't +drive me away, will you? You won't drive me +away; I can stay to-night, can't I? It's so dark,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> +and so cold! And in the morning, if you still +don't want me, I'll—I'll go away, Goosie. I'll +go away and never, never bother you any more, +Goosie; never! But let me stay to-night; Goosie, +don't drive me away to-night!"</p> + +<p>"Good God!" groaned Charles-Norton, horrified +at the very possibility, and suddenly overwhelmed +by a sense of the enormity of his past +conduct. "Good God, Dolly! don't, don't——"</p> + +<p>"I can stay—then—to-night?" she asked, with +a glimmer of hope, of hope that cannot believe +itself. "I can stay to-night, Goosie?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Dolly, you can stay to-night, you can +stay to-morrow night, you can stay always, +Dolly, poor little Dolly," moaned the agonized +Charles-Norton. "We'll stay here, always, together, +Dolly. Never will I move from you +again, Dolly; Dolly, my little wife, my love, +my——"</p> + +<p>Dolly snuggled back close. "Oh, Goosie," she +said, "if you let me stay, I'll be so good! I +won't bother you at all, Goosie. You can do +just what you want; I'll let you have—anything! +I won't bother you, you won't know I'm here. +I'll just hide around and take care of you, Goosie,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> +I'll do <i>anything</i>! If only you'll let me stay, +Goosie!"</p> + +<p>"Come," he said, not daring to give his voice +much of a chance; "come; let us go in."</p> + +<p>The little nose suddenly popped out like a +squirrel's out of its hole. She no longer wept, +though he could see a tear still at the end of one +of her lashes, agleam in the dark. She raised her +head out of his arms and looked about her. +"Oh," she cried, "is that your house? What +a cute baby-house! It's pretty here, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"It is beautiful!" he said enthusiastically. +"We'll be happy here. Come," he said; and very +close, her head upon his shoulders, his arm about +her waist, they went slowly across the meadow +to the cabin.</p> + +<p>It was pleasant, somehow, the next morning, +to loll about with trailing wings, undesirous of +flight. The cabin, the meadow, had taken on a +certain intimacy, a coziness; it was pleasant to +remain there all day, upon earth, idle-winged.</p> + +<p>Charles-Norton had his morning swim alone +after vain attempts to entice Dolly, her eyes +still full of blue sleep, into the crystal waters. +Then he fished from his rock—twice as long as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> +he usually fished. And when he returned with +his string of rainbows, Dolly, uncovering the +dutch-oven which he had bought on his arrival, +but the mystery of which he had never mastered, +proudly showed him the cracked golden dome +of a swelling loaf of bread. Its warm fragrance +mingled with the pungent puffs coming from +the curved nozzle of the coffee-pot, set in the +glowing coals. He gave her the fish, all cleaned, +and rolling them in corn-meal, she laid them +delicately in the sizzling frying-pan, each by the +side of a marbled strip of bacon.</p> + +<p>There was no doubt that this breakfast was an +improvement on breakfasts that had gone before. +Bread is mighty good when one has not had any +for nearly two months; and warm golden bread +just out of the oven and made by Dolly is more +than mighty good. The coffee had undeniably +an aroma that it had not had of past mornings. +And as you held up to the light, delicately between +thumb and finger, a little trout with +crisply-curved tail, and slipped it head first between +eager white teeth, your eyes smiled into +two other eyes (like blue stars), smiling back at +you over just such another troutlet, golden crisp,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> +entering in successive movements between just +such eager teeth (small pearly ones, these).</p> + +<p>Oh, you Charles-Norton!</p> + +<p>He wore a blanket on his back, undulating +from his shoulders, over his wings, to the ground. +Dolly had put it there, fearing he would catch +cold. Now and then, by some reflex action of +which Charles-Norton was unconscious, the wings +stirred uneasily to the burden and let it slip to +the ground, upon which Dolly, springing up with +a laugh, quickly replaced it. This happened so +often that it became a game.</p> + +<p>After breakfast Dolly, instead of throwing the +dishes in a shallow spot of the lake, as it was +the habit of Master Charles-Norton, placed them +in a pot of boiling water, at the bottom of which, +with wonder-eyes, he saw them miraculously dissolve +to brightness. "You're a genius, Dolly," +he said. She laughed, a silver peal that filled the +clearing, then, going into the cabin, returned +with his pipe all filled. Nicodemus came to +them for his salt, then wandered off again. They +sat side by side, their backs against the cabin-wall, +the meadow before them, sloping to the +lake; he smoked, and she was silent. The sun<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> +had risen. It inundated the western slopes with +a cascade of light; here and there on the crest +glaciers flashed signals; far to the west the +plain palpitated liquidly; and above, the sky +domed very high, a miracle of pellucid azure. +A big sigh escaped Charles-Norton, with a blue +wafture of smoke. "Isn't this beautiful?" he +said; "isn't it beautiful?"</p> + +<p>She said nothing, and so he repeated, "Isn't it +beautiful?" And then, curious of her silence, +he turned to her. She was looking about her, +at the trees, at the lake, and the great crags +above, and as she looked, with an unconscious +movement, she withdrew closer to him. "It's +awfully big," she said, and her voice was almost +a whisper.</p> + +<p>"It's big with beauty," he said. "Look at +the lake," he went on, detailing with the pride +of a suburban proprietor; "isn't it silvery and +fresh and clean!"</p> + +<p>"It's cold, isn't it?" said Dolly.</p> + +<p>"And the crest up there. Look at it. It is +sculptured—domes, spires, castles. And those +gothic arches. They are like joined hands; the +granite prays. And see the glisten of that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> +glacier in the haze, like a star in the veil of a +bride! It's all beautiful!"</p> + +<p>"They're terribly big mountains, aren't they?" +said Dolly.</p> + +<p>"See the plain away down there. It seems +to heave slowly, like the flood after the rain had +ceased."</p> + +<p>"Do people live there?" asked Dolly.</p> + +<p>"And the sky; did you ever see such sky! +And the meadow here, how fresh and lush; and +the pines, and the cabin, and the lake—isn't it +all quiet and peaceful?"</p> + +<p>She was silent, and after a while he turned +to her. A tear was trembling at the end of one +of her long lashes. "Goosie," she whispered, +and she snuggled up against him; "Goosie, isn't +it a bit—lonely here?"</p> + +<p>"<i>We</i> won't find it lonely," he answered stoutly, +and drew her close within his arms.</p> + +<p>The day drawled on, slowly and deliciously. +"Let's take a little walk," said Dolly, after a +while.</p> + +<p>"All right," said Charles-Norton, "I guess I +still know how. I haven't walked much lately."</p> + +<p>"I suppose not," said Dolly, hesitatingly. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>They were going side by side across the meadow, +and Charles-Norton could feel her looking at +him out of the corner of her eye. "I suppose—you +have been—doing something else."</p> + +<p>"Yes," laughed Charles-Norton, flushing a bit; +"yes—something else."</p> + +<p>Somehow they did not look at each other for a +time after that, and walked a bit apart.</p> + +<p>They drew together again little by little as +they wandered over the clearing, in a close examination +of their domain, which Charles-Norton, +with his passion for big flights and sweeping +outlooks, had up to now neglected. They found +a miniature cascade that purled over a mossy log; +a cave, so small and clean and regular that it +seemed not the work of the big Nature about +them, but of delicate, elfin hands; and then, on +the edge of forest and grass, a flower, a trembling +white chalice upon the virginal bosom of which +one small touch of color burned like a flame. +And thus, little step after little step, they went +from little wonder to little wonder. Dolly liked +small things; it was the microscopic aspect of +Nature that touched her heart; she had an adjective +all her own for such: they were "baby"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> +things—baby flowers, baby brooks, baby stars. +This appealed less to Charles-Norton, hungry for +big sweeps. And even now, he caught himself +yawning once, and casting a look at the crest far +away.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon, in the full warmth of the +clear sun, he inveigled her into the lake for a +swim. They splashed in the silver waters like +merman and mermaid; and when, after a glistening +disappearance within the cabin, Dolly +emerged again, she was tucked in a fuzzy bathrobe +that made her look like a little bear.</p> + +<p>They sat long afterward on a warm slope in +the sun. Crickets hopped about them; Charles-Norton +at intervals heard by his side Dolly's +musical giggle as one of them struck her. A bird +on a long twig balanced above them, and for a +time a squirrel chattered at them in mock scolding +from the top of a pine. Little by little +Charles-Norton sank into a profundity of well-being. +He could see ahead, now, his life stretching +placid and colored, solved at last, with both +Dolly and the wings, uniting love and freedom, +the ecstasies of flight with the tenderness of +home——</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p> +<p>"Goosie," said Dolly; "let's go in."</p> + +<p>The sun was gone. It had sunk into the plain, +far off. "Wait," he whispered, looking toward +the crest, inflamed with living light. The peaks +gleamed, the domes glowed, the glaciers flashed, +the whole sky-line crackled with a great band of +color. Then swiftly from the plain a shadow ran +up the mountain sides, extinguished, one after +the other, peak, and dome, and glacier; it went up +toward the clouds with its long swift lope: the +clouds became burned rags.</p> + +<p>"Let us go in," said Dolly.</p> + +<p>"Wait," he said.</p> + +<p>The night was pouring in over the crest, filling +the meadow, the dome above; a velvety blueness +palpitated vaguely about them; a star, as if +touched by an unseen torch, suddenly sprang to +light.</p> + +<p>"Wait," murmured Charles-Norton; "it is +beautiful at this hour."</p> + +<p>But Dolly pressed against him with a little +shiver. "I'm cold, Goosie," she cried; "let us +go in."</p> + +<p>They rose, went down the slope and across +the meadow. Along the grass a frigid little haze<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> +was forming; it was true that it was cold. If +Charles-Norton had been a practical man he +would have observed that for the last two weeks, +in fact, the nights had been growing more and +more cold—which might have introduced a disturbing +factor in his dream of the coming days. +But Charles-Norton, as has been seen, was not +a practical man.</p> + +<p>They sat within, by a glowing fire. "It's nice +to be home," said Dolly. "It's fine," said +Charles-Norton, stoutly.</p> + + +<hr /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p> +<hr /> + +<p class="cap">For three days Charles-Norton remained +on earth sedulously. It was a pleasant +earth. They wandered together in the +small area about the cabin; they walked, swam, +fished, picked flowers, and spent hours concocting, +on the fire before the cabin, nice little dishes +which they negotiated gourmandly, like children. +On the second day Nicodemus, furry and fat with +idleness, was saddled, and they three went down +the trail toward the camp. Charles-Norton hid +on the fringe of the forest while Dolly shopped +sagely in the general store, to the general approval +of the somnolent inhabitants who, by this +time, had diminished to five; and then they returned +in the twilight, Nicodemus a bit wistful +with the weight of the many useful and good +things within his bags. They worked about the +cabin the next day, and Dolly performed wonders +with burlap and chintz. Curtains draped the +three small windows, a carpet spread upon the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> +floor, and on the big tree-trunk which, sawed off +evenly in the center of the cabin, served as a +table, a shining lamp was set, promising of calm +evenings.</p> + +<p>"We'll live here forever!" cried Charles-Norton, +enthusiastically.</p> + +<p>Dolly did not answer; her back was turned and +she was busy tacking chintz along one of the +bunks.</p> + +<p>On the fourth morning Charles-Norton felt a +vague hunger which breakfast did not satisfy. +It was with him all day as he wandered on the +ground, the tips of his long wings stained with +grass. It was with him stronger the following +morning; and after breakfast, he sprang suddenly +into the air. "Look!" he cried to Dolly.</p> + +<p>And before her, above the meadow, he went +through his flying repertory. He cut clashing +diagonals through the air; he rose and fell in +undulations like music; he shot about, gleaming +white against the blue sky; and finally he came +down to her from the very zenith of the dome +in a sizzing straight line which opened, almost +at her feet, in a white explosion of suddenly extended +wings.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span></p> +<p>"You baby!" said Dolly, as once more he +stood before her, panting slightly, and his eyes +dilated; "you baby!" she said, indulgently.</p> + +<p>Charles-Norton, shifting his position to one +foot, scratched his head. Somehow, this was not +quite what he had expected. He had thought +Dolly more changed about this flying business; +and here she seemed—well, not so very much +changed. Within him he felt something vaguely +bristle. It was still bristling there the next +morning, and gave to his voice a certain brusqueness +when, kissing Dolly on the forehead after +breakfast, he said: "Well, so long, Dolly!"</p> + +<p>"So long," he said; and Dolly, from her seat +on the sward, saw him leap from her and wing +away in powerful flight. He made straight for +the crest; she saw him, flitting up there, a little +white confetti in the eddy of a breeze. Rising, +falling, darting capriciously, he gradually slid +off down the range, and was gone.</p> + +<p>Dolly rose. The meadow suddenly had become +very quiet. A tree, sap-bursting, cracked +resoundingly; the sound went through her like +a sliver. She stood there, poised as if for flight, +feeling upon her from every tree, rock and bush,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> +the hostile eyes of peering things; and she was +mighty glad when Nicodemus came running to +her resonantly across the clearing, demanding +a pancake.</p> + +<p>Somehow, Charles-Norton did not enjoy his +flight as much as he had expected. He bore +with him a vague uneasiness which no amount +of speeding could quite lose. He could feel, all +the time, Dolly away down there alone in the +deserted meadow. He returned much earlier +than usual.</p> + +<p>Dolly was cooking by the fire in the clearing, +and she greeted him cheerfully, without the +slightest sign of reproach. After a while, +though, he noted upon her right cheek a little +smudge. It was shaped like a miniature comet; +it was, rather, like the slight sediment left upon +a window-pane by a drop of rain. Charles-Norton, +determinedly, refused to see it. But it was +there all the same.</p> + +<p>And it was there the next day when he returned, +and the next, and the next. Each night, +as he lit again upon earth after his long voyaging +of the air, Dolly greeted him with an +ostentatious cheerfulness beneath which could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> +be felt something subtly plaintive, and on her +cheek—sometimes the right, sometimes the +left—always would be the little accusing +smudge.</p> + +<p>It spoiled his flights. Following the three +days spent on earth, the hunger of the spaces +had come back to him, gnawing at his vitals; +each morning he was leaving earlier, each evening +he was returning later. But all the time, in +his wildest soarings, there went with him ... a +leaden pellet, a little leaden pellet, very stubborn +and indissoluble, there in his heart ... the +knowledge that, alighting, at the end he would +have to face that little black smudge; that he +would have to meet Dolly's cheerful greeting +with its subtle, plaintive undercurrent, and the +faint smudge upon her cheek.</p> + +<p>Dolly, as a matter of fact, was not weeping +all the time, down there in the meadow. The +care of the cabin, the preparation of the meals, +gave her each day several hours of humming +content; and in the afternoon she would have +several good romps with Nicodemus. But there +were also heavy hours during which the solitude +of the land seemed to draw nigh from all sides;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> +when she panted, almost, to its pressure, and +felt very little and miserable indeed. So that +Charles-Norton, dropping like an archangel out +of the sky, found always upon her cheek the +trace of an erasure made completely enough to +show a determination to hide tears, but not quite +enough to obliterate the determination; and leaving +in the morning, he felt her eyes wistful upon +him in a humble and unspoken reproach which +all day followed him, stubborn as his own +shadow, the shadow which he could never escape. +He fought well, did Charles-Norton. He tried +hard not to see the little black smudge, not to +think about it; and above all, not to let +her know that he saw it. But all the time +the weight was there within him, spoiling his +flights.</p> + +<p>One morning, seeing in a sudden flash of naïve +hope a solution of their problem, he tried to take +her with him. Making a sling out of a strip of +blanket, he passed it about his waist, sat her +in the slack, and rose in the air. Thus, holding +her beneath the shadow of his wings as in a +swing, he flitted about, above the meadow, rising, +chuting down in long, smooth slants, circling,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> +soaring. Once he thought he heard from her a +slight suppressed cry, and then, after a while, +astonished at her silence, he came down to the +shore of the lake.</p> + +<p>Her eyes were closed, her cheeks were white, +and her hands were cold; and it was only after +he had dashed water upon her that she revived.</p> + +<p>"Dolly, Dolly," he murmured.</p> + +<p>She looked at him, smiling bravely with her +white lips. "Goosie, dear," she said, a bit +wearily; "Goosie, dear, I can't. I can't +dear. I get dizzy. It makes me dreadfully +sick."</p> + +<p>He stood there on one leg, embarrassed. He +wanted to take her in his arms in great tenderness, +but was held back by the tenacity of his +purpose, by the knowledge of the peril of such +a course.</p> + +<p>"Go on," said Dolly, finally. "Go, Goosie; +go on and fly. I'll stay here. With Nicodemus," +she added wistfully.</p> + +<p>And Charles-Norton, the brute, still inexorable, +flapped his great wings and went away, +leaving her there in the meadow alone, with +Nicodemus.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p> +<p>But he was to get his punishment. A few +days later, returning at night, he found Dolly +truly weeping.</p> + +<p>She was kneeling by the fire, frying-pan in +hand, preparing the evening meal; and at regular +intervals two big dew-drops trickled out from +her lowered lashes and dropped upon her hand. +Charles-Norton, abashed and puzzled, went about +a while, making a great show of occupation, and +pretending not to see. And then, suddenly, out +of the corner of his eyes he noted the rag which +she had wrapped about the handle of the frying-pan. +It was not the usual rag. It was a filmy +thing within which ran a color like a flame. +Lordy—it was the scarf which, several weeks +before, he had stolen one night from the girl +on the veranda, in the inn above the valley, and +which he had since forgotten in the clothes-bag +that served him as pillow.</p> + +<p>He kept a prudent silence, and pretended not +to see it, though vaguely tormented by the very +menial service to which Dolly successively put +that once radiant scarf. And Dolly said not a +word about it. She went on with her little housekeeping +routine very carefully and submissively,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> +while now and again a tear oozed from her long +lashes. But Charles-Norton felt vaguely now +that the balance had swung, that he was fighting +now at a terrible disadvantage.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p> + + +<hr /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></p> +<hr /> + +<p class="cap">Charles-Norton began to grow peevish.</p> + +<p>"Good Lord," he would growl, as he +flew along the crest; "why can't she smile once, +for a change, as I leave her in the morning; why +can't she speed me away with a smile, instead of +that look. Why can't she be happy in her own +way down there, and let me be happy up here? +Why, why, why?"</p> + +<p>He was passing just then a deep gorge, blue +beneath him. From it his question reascended +to him, tenuous and fluttering, like a lost bird +on uncertain wings. "Why—why—why?"</p> + +<p>"She looks at me—as if I were a murderer. +Just because I want to fly. Just because I have +wings. Just because everything in me says, Fly! +And I have to carry that look around with me all +day long, just like a net, just like a net of crape. +Dam!"</p> + +<p>"Dam!" said the profundities.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span></p> +<p>Charles-Norton evidently had arrived at the +self-pitying stage—which was a bad sign, if he +only had known it; which showed a certain weakening +of his moral fiber. He fought on, though. +Resolutely he continued to refuse to notice the +daily little black smudge upon Dolly's cheek. +She was more submissive and dolorous than ever. +She had made him, with blankets, a union-suit +that buttoned ingeniously about the roots of his +wings; he put it on every morning, but hid it +behind a rock till night as soon as he was out +of sight.</p> + +<p>But the very elements, the perversity of matter, +seemed against Charles-Norton. "There's no +more flour, Goosie," said Dolly one morning.</p> + +<p>Charles-Norton did not catch the significance +of this remark right away. Perched on one foot, +just in the act of taking wing, he had become +absorbed in the examination of a fluffy and cold +little white object which had just then settled +upon his nose. He looked at it close as it disappeared +between his fingers in a silver trickle. +It was a snow-flake. He glanced upward; the +sky was very gray.</p> + +<p>"Goosie, the flour is gone," repeated Dolly.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p> +<p>Charles-Norton came back to earth. "Well, +we'll have to buy some more," he said, again +preparing for flight.</p> + +<p>Dolly was silent, evidently considering this +remark. "Have you—have you any more—money?" +she asked at length, hesitatingly.</p> + +<p>Charles-Norton dropped his wings. "No," he +said. "No, that I haven't—not a cent. It's—it's +gone. Have you?"</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> haven't any," said Dolly. Her eyes were +very big.</p> + +<p>Charles-Norton stood there motionless a while, +a bit disturbed. Then his lower jaw advanced; +he shrugged his shoulders: "Well—I'll see +about it; to-morrow," he said airily, and was off.</p> + +<p>But he didn't see about anything "to-morrow" +or after. He had a fine time that day. A snow-flurry +was passing down the Sierra, and he went +with it along the crest, mile after mile, to the +South, the center of its soft white whirl, its +winged tutelary God. When he returned, that +night, a snow-carpet extended down from the top +of the chain, down the slopes, to the edge of the +meadow. Dolly was inside of the cabin, close to +the fireplace. "Ooh, Goosie, but it's cold," she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> +cried. "Yes," admitted Charles-Norton; "it is +cold." His wings were encased in ice, and he +sparkled rosily in the fire's glow.</p> + +<p>The next day, though, was warmer; the carpet +of snow gradually retreated up the slopes. It +remained on the crest, however, frozen and scintillating. +It was a world of increased beauty +that now spread beneath Charles-Norton. The +crest glittered from horizon to horizon; here and +there little lakes gleamed like hard diamonds; +and lower, the willows in the hollows lay very +light, like painted vapor.</p> + +<p>The next morning Dolly said: "There's no +sugar, Goosie."</p> + +<p>"Coffee is better without sugar," said Charles-Norton, +sententiously.</p> + +<p>For a few days the young couple, with wry +faces, drank unsweetened coffee. Then this difficulty +disappeared. Taking up the tin before +breakfast, Dolly discovered that there was no +more coffee.</p> + +<p>The last of the canned fruit followed, and +the last slice of bacon.</p> + +<p>"Thank the Lord we can live on trout," said +Charles-Norton, piously.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p> +<p>As if in answer, the next morning, the trout +refused to take his bait of red flannel.</p> + +<p>Alone there on the shore of the lake, while +Dolly waited within the cabin, Charles-Norton +passed a bad quarter-of-an-hour. Then he went +up the slopes back of the meadow and captured +a handful of grasshoppers springing there in the +rising sun. The trout took them with gratitude. +"Whee!" said Charles-Norton, when at last he +had his catch.</p> + +<p>And then, to a cold blast from the East, a few +days later, the grasshoppers all disappeared. +Charles-Norton took his axe, went into the +woods, and chopping open mouldy logs, obtained +a store of white grub. The trout took +them.</p> + +<p>But Fatality now was dogging him close. +When, with tingling skin, he opened the cabin-door +a few mornings later, a cry escaped him. +A snow-carpet spread from the crest over the +face of the whole visible world, clear down to +the western plain. It covered deep the meadow, +hung in miniature mountain-chains on the +boughs of the pines, filigreed the lake. The +lake was frozen.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p> +<p>Charles-Norton chopped a hole in the ice, then +chopped logs and replenished his supply of grubs. +The trout refused them. They could not be +blamed; the grubs, hibernating, had shrunk +themselves into hard little sticks devoid of the +least suspicion of succulence.</p> + +<p>Charles-Norton and Dolly went breakfastless +that morning. All day Charles-Norton roamed +above the land with a vague idea of catching +something. But living creatures seemed to have +withdrawn into the earth; the few still out had +put on white liveries; when Charles-Norton flew +low, they fled him, and when he flew high, he +could not distinguish them from the earth's impassive +mantle. He thought once of the ranch +in the plain and of its chicken-yard, but dropped +the idea immediately. Dolly's vigorous little +New England conscience would never accept a +compromise such as this.</p> + +<p>Charles-Norton and Dolly that night went +supperless to bed; they arose in the morning with +no prospect of breakfast. Charles-Norton moped +long at the fire while Dolly, very wisely silent, +trotted about her work. Suddenly Charles-Norton +rose with a smothered exclamation. In two<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> +strides he made for the door, opened it, and took +wing; Dolly saw him flitting among the branches +of the pines in mysterious occupation. He returned +in great triumph and threw on the table +a double handful of small, dry objects that looked +like wooden beans. "We'll eat pine-nuts!" he +cried enthusiastically. "Pine-nuts are just +chuck full of protein!"</p> + +<p>For three days they lived on pine-nuts. And +then, as on the third evening, they sat before the +little heap which made their meal, Dolly fell +forward on the table with a wide movement of +her arms that scattered the supper in a dry +tinkle to the floor, and remained thus with heaving +shoulders.</p> + +<p>Charles-Norton rose and stood above her. +Dolly was weeping this time, truly weeping, beyond +the slightest doubt, openly and freely. This +was the end; he was cornered at last, his last +twisting over. She wept there in an abandonment +of woe, her face in her arms, her hair desolate +on the surface of the table, her shoulders +palpitating. And as he gazed down upon her, +a great, vague mournfulness slowly rose through +him, a mournfulness part regret, part sacrifice;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> +he stood there gazing down upon her as a child +gazing down on a broken toy, a broken toy in +the ruin of which lay the ruin of his dreams. +She wept; and he felt as if a wreath, a wreath +soft and flowery but very heavy, had fallen about +his neck and were drawing him down, down out +of the altitudes of his will. And so, gently, +he asked the question, the answer of which +he knew, the asking of which was renunciation.</p> + +<p>"Dolly, Dolly," he whispered; "what is the +matter, Dolly?"</p> + +<p>"Ooh, ooh, ooh," sobbed Dolly; "ooh, Goosie, +I can't—can't eat pine-nuts, Goosie! I +can't!"</p> + +<p>Her shoulders shook, the table trembled, her +wail rose to a perfect little whistle of woe. +Charles-Norton sat down by her and took her +in his arms. "Well, we won't have to, Dolly," +he said gently; "us won't have to. We—we'll +go back!"</p> + +<p>They remained thus long, entwined, while little +by little the violence of Dolly's despair moderated. +At length she freed herself, with a smile +like the sunlight of an April shower, and still<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> +with a little catch in her throat, took the lamp +from the table and set it on the sill of the western +window.</p> + +<p>Half an hour later there was a knock at +the door.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p> + + +<hr /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p> +<hr /> + +<p class="cap">After a moment of indecision, during +which Dolly, rosy with excitement, was +hurriedly rearranging her disordered +apparel, Charles-Norton, picking up the lamp, +strode to the door and opened it. His lips were +unable to hold a short exclamation of surprise. +For, framed in the door-way, here stood the +mysterious stranger whom twice he had caught +watching him in the meadow.</p> + +<p>He stood there, very tall, soft hat in hand, +his white hair and cavalier mustachios shining +softly in the rays of the lamp, the fringes of his +buckskin garments all aglitter with the cold; +above his right shoulder there peered affectionately +the white face of his horse, the vague loom +of whom could be divined behind in the night. +He placed his right foot upon the lintel, and to +the movement his long spur tinkled in a single +silver note. "May I come in?" he asked gravely.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> +"Why, yes; why, yes," exclaimed Charles-Norton, +recovering from his momentary petrifaction; +"come in, make yourself at home, have +a chair, have a seat!"</p> + +<p>"Back!" said the man, over his shoulder, and +to the command the inquisitive nose of the white +horse receded in the darkness. The man shut +the door, behind which, immediately, a philosophical +munching of bit began to sound. He +walked across the room with a low bow which +caused the wide brim of his hat to sweep the +floor; and to Charles-Norton's invitation sat himself +on the bench by the fireplace. Dolly perched +herself on the side of her bunk, Charles-Norton +on his. They formed thus a triangle, of which +the stranger was the apex. Dolly's face was +flushed, her eyes were bright, but she kept them +carefully averted from the gleaming visitor. +Charles-Norton, on the contrary, stared at him +frankly. A reminiscence was coming slowly, +like a light, into his brain.</p> + +<p>"I've seen you before," he said. "Twice I've +seen you with your horse, here, among the +rocks."</p> + +<p>"Did you see me?" said the man, with a smile.</p> + +<p>"I couldn't place you then. But now I know. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span>I know who you are. You're Bison Billiam, +aren't you; Bison Billiam, the great scout."</p> + +<p>"So I am popularly known," said the man, +with a bow.</p> + +<p>"I remember you. It's ten, twelve years ago. +You came out of a lot of cardboard scenery at +the end of the hall, hunting buffaloes. The +calcium light was on you, and you looked like +this——"</p> + +<p>Here Charles-Norton placed his right hand +above his eyes in most approved scouting style, +and peered to right and left. "Humph," said +Bison Billiam, seemingly not altogether delighted +with this representation.</p> + +<p>"And you saw the buffalo—three of them—father +and mother and son, I guess—standing +in the center of the arena. You galloped right +into them, and emptied the magazine of your +Winchester into them—but they wouldn't run. +They knew you too well, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"I suppose," agreed Bison Billiam. "The +buffaloes I've hunted in the last twenty years +have known me pretty well. It was not so once," +he said reminiscently; "not so, not so——"</p> + +<p>There was a little silence at this evocation of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> +the melancholy of gone days. The fire crackled. +It was Bison Billiam who spoke first. "I've +been watching you fly," he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes?" exclaimed Charles-Norton, flushing +with pleasure and doubt.</p> + +<p>"I have a permanent show in New York now," +went on Bison Billiam.</p> + +<p>"Yes?" said Charles-Norton.</p> + +<p>"I want you to fly there," said Bison Billiam.</p> + +<p>"Yes?" said Charles-Norton.</p> + +<p>"I'll give you four hundred a week."</p> + +<p>Charles-Norton fell backward into his bunk, +his legs swaying perpendicularly in the air like +two derricks gone amuck. From the depths of +his involuntary position he heard the silvery +pealing of Dolly's laughter. When he rose again +though, Dolly had ceased laughing, and Bison +Billiam's face had a gravity which somehow +vaguely impressed Charles-Norton as without +solidity, like fresh varnish. The two looked as +though they had been gazing at each other, but +their eyes now were carefully averted.</p> + +<p>"I didn't understand," said Charles-Norton, +with dignity, and surreptitiously took a firm hold +of the edge of the bunk.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p> +<p>"The matter is simply this," said Bison Billiam. +"I have a permanent Wild West show +in New York. I want a new feature for it. You +are it. I'll give you three hundred a——"</p> + +<p>"Four hundred; you said four hundred!" +exclaimed Dolly.</p> + +<p>He turned to her with a bow which held homage. +"Four hundred," he corrected.</p> + +<p>"What will I have to do?" asked Charles-Norton, +still somewhat dazed.</p> + +<p>"Just fly. Fly every night, and at the matinees, +Wednesdays and Saturdays. The police +will stand for it, I think—except on Sundays. +But we'll settle the details later. Meanwhile, +here's the contract." He fumbled in the inside +of his buckskin jacket and drew out a typewritten +document.</p> + +<p>Charles-Norton stood long over the contract, +spread out on the table. He pretended to read +it, but was too agitated to do so. The little +purple characters danced in the glow of the lamp. +Upon his right shoulder he could feel Dolly's +chin; it rested there tenderly, with wistfulness, +in prayer. Mixed with his excitement was a +vague sadness, a sadness, somehow, as though he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> +were saying farewell to someone. But he had +already gone through the crisis; to Dolly's heart-rending +cry upon the dietary inadequacy of pine-nuts, +he had yielded his whole being in supreme +sacrifice. An exultation possessed him at the +thought, a madness of self-gift. He straightened +to his full height; "I'll sign!" he cried +with ringing accent.</p> + +<p>He felt Dolly turn about him; she laid her +head upon his breast. "Sh-sh, sh-sh," he whispered, +patting her; "it's all right, Dolly." He +raised his head once more. "I'll sign!" he declared +again loudly.</p> + +<p>"Well, I should say so," murmured Bison Billiam, +a bit amazed at all this ceremony. Out +of the holster which hung on his belt, he drew +a fountain-pen, which lay snugly by the silver-mounted +revolver. And Charles-Norton, his left +arm about Dolly, with his right hand signed +firmly the contract.</p> + +<p>"I'll be back in the morning," said Bison +Billiam as he mounted his horse. "You'll give +me an exhibition, and we'll settle on your stunt +and on the size of your machine—your——"</p> + +<p>But his last word flew away with him in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> +night. Charles-Norton closed the door. There +was a little silence. "What did he mean?" +asked Charles-Norton; "what did he mean by +the size, the size of——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know," said Dolly. "Goosie, +you are a dear; a darling, Goosie. Goosie——"</p> + +<p>"That's all right, little girl," said Charles-Norton +with large magnanimity; "glad to do it +for you." And then, nudging Dolly with his +elbow, "four hundred a week, Dolly; four hundred! +Gee!" he cried.</p> + +<p>The practical side of Charles-Norton seemed +at last awakened; he danced around the table +in glee. But Dolly, singularly, did not join in.</p> + +<p>The next morning, bright and early, Dolly and +Charles-Norton heard a haloo outside and, emerging, +found Bison Billiam erect upon his +motionless horse in the center of the snow-covered +meadow. "You've had breakfast?" he +asked pleasantly.</p> + +<p>"Well—yes," said Dolly; "just got through," +said the little liar (there wasn't anything within +the cabin to breakfast upon).</p> + +<p>"We'll begin right away, then," said Bison +Billiam. "We leave at noon."</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span></p> +<p>He dismounted, and Dolly and he seated themselves +side by side, with backs against the cabin, +while Charles-Norton gave them an exhibition.</p> + +<p>He winged off first directly for the crest gleaming +high in the distance, making his line straight +and swift; then returned in a perfect curve that +spanned the distance like a rainbow. Remaining +above the meadow, now, he drew all his fantasies +against the sky and finally, rising high till he +was a mere dot in the heavens, he shot down +like a white thunderbolt and landed at their +feet in snowy explosion of extended wings.</p> + +<p>He found Bison Billiam and Dolly conferring +earnestly. "Two feet, I think," Bison Billiam +said. Dolly ran into the cabin and returned +with a pair of glittering scissors.</p> + +<p>"What are you going to do?" asked Charles-Norton, +suddenly cold and distrustful.</p> + +<p>"Cut off two feet," said Dolly, laughingly. +"Mr. Billiam says to cut off two feet."</p> + +<p>"Off my wings?" yelped Charles-Norton; "off +my wings?"</p> + +<p>Dolly turned her eyes to Bison Billiam in +doubt, in appeal. "It's in the contract, young +man," said Bison Billiam. "Haven't you read<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> +the contract?" he said, drawing the document +from his jacket.</p> + +<p>"No, I haven't," said Charles-Norton, shortly. +"Let me see it."</p> + +<p>And he read, beneath Bison Billiam's pointing +finger: "It shall be regarded as a part of this +agreement that the length of the flying apparatus, +whatsoever it may be, shall be determined by the +party of the first part."</p> + +<p>"I won't!" thundered Charles-Norton.</p> + +<p>"Goosie, dear," implored Dolly; "Goosie, +dear, only two feet, and it's in the contract, +Goosie, dear——"</p> + +<p>He turned upon her fiercely. "Why can't you +eat pine-nuts?" he cried; "why, why, why?"</p> + +<p>She drew back a step and looked at him with +great large eyes, and as he met them, he saw +them fill slowly with tears. "I can't," she said +simply; "I can't, Goosie." Again Charles-Norton +had that sensation of a wreath falling about +his neck, a heavy wreath within the soft flowers +of which was hidden a good stout chain. "All +right; go ahead," he said, with a sigh.</p> + +<p>Dolly, with the firmness of a surgeon inexorably +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> +sure of what is best for his patient, curtailed +the "flying apparatus" to the required +length. "Now, let's see you," said Bison Billiam.</p> + +<p>And Charles-Norton repeated his performance, +more heavily this time, in smaller compass. But +when he descended, again he was met by Bison +Billiam's disapproving head-shake. "We'll have +to take off another foot," said Bison Billiam.</p> + +<p>"But why?" remonstrated Charles-Norton +(with the first cut there had already come to him +a certain lassitude, an indifference, almost, which +made him much more tractable). "Why do you +want my wings short?" (also he was conscious of +a feeling of aspiration amidships, of aspiration +for something else than pine-nuts). "Don't you +want me to fly well? What the deuce is the +matter?"</p> + +<p>"It won't do; it won't do at all," said Bison +Billiam, in a tone almost of discouragement. +"Can't you <i>see</i> it won't do?" he went on impatiently. +"It's too smooth; there's no effort +in it. Lord, you do it as though it were <i>easy</i>! +And there's no <i>danger</i> in it, man! Lord, I sit +here and watch you without batting an eye-lid; +feeling sure you can't fall. That's not what I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> +want. I want the audience to get excited, to +palpitate! I don't want them to sit there like +lambs watching a cloud, or a bird flying. Your +act isn't worth two-bits a week. I want men +to groan, children to scream, women to faint! +Lop 'em off!"</p> + +<p>Again Charles-Norton submitted himself to +Dolly's gentle fingers and cold scissors, and repeated +his act with shortened wings. This happened +three times. Three times the scissors +zipped, down eddied to the ground, and Charles-Norton +tried again, more heavily, more soddenly, +his being invaded by the emptiness of the old +days, the shorn days.</p> + +<p>At the end of the third flight, Bison Billiam +remained silent a long time, evidently the prey +of a heavy discouragement. Suddenly the light +of inspiration sprang to his brow; his voice rang +clear in the glade. "Cut six inches off the left +wing," he cried, "and leave the right as it is. +Shear the left and leave the right as it is!"</p> + +<p>Charles-Norton gazed at him open-mouthed. +But by this time there was little left in him +strong enough for rebellion. He closed his mouth +again. Dolly interceded with a glance of her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> +soft eyes, but Bison Billiam was aglow with his +idea. "Cut!" he cried.</p> + +<p>Dolly cut.</p> + +<p>This time the result was eminently satisfactory. +With great effort, with cracking sinew +and sweating brow, Charles-Norton managed to +circle the meadow once with heavy, awkward +flapping. His neck was awry with the uneven +pressure, his fine body was twisted; he almost +struck the ground between each stroke, and as +he was passing his audience on the beginning of +a second lap, he lost control suddenly, turned +clear over, and flopped to earth at their feet.</p> + +<p>Bison Billiam could not restrain his enthusiasm +now. He clapped his hands, he skipped +about like a child. "Fine; fine!" he cried, and +his deep voice rang clear to the crest; "that's the +stuff; now we've got it! By Jove," he swore, +his satisfaction rising to delirium, "I'll give you +four hundred <i>and fifty</i> a week!"</p> + +<p>They left immediately, Charles-Norton dressing, +for the first time in many days, in his city +suit of clothes. The wings, even though—rectified, +bulged the coat, but this was hidden by the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> +cape of his mackintosh, which Dolly, providentially, +had brought with her from the city. They +wended their way back along the trail to the +camp, Charles-Norton bronzed like a farmer, +choking in his white collar, Dolly very pretty +in her tailor suit, her furs, and her toque, Bison +Billiam resplendent on his white horse; and before +them Nicodemus trotted demurely, a dress-suit +case in each saddle-bag, another slung atop. +They left him at the camp, grazing philosophically +on his old dump. Charles-Norton gave him +an affectionate farewell slap, Dolly kissed him +on the nose, and they then climbed aboard the +shining private-car which stood ready for them +on the siding. One end of the private-car was +a luxurious stable, in which the white horse +climbed along a cleated gang-way. A half-hour +later the passing Overland train picked up the +car, and slowly clicking along the summit, they +saw, between two snow-sheds, the little meadow, +its lake, and its cabin, pass by, out of their +vision, out of their lives.</p> + +<p>Charles-Norton took off his coat, which felt +very tight. A private-car had a freedom, and +comforts, which a public-car has not; a faint +appreciation of this fact came to Charles-Norton<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> +as he settled back, coatless, in his upholstered +chair, and with it the first vague snuggle of readjustment. +This feeling became clearer after +the dainty breakfast served by Bison Billiam's +white-capped cook, and expressed itself in a sigh +almost of content when Bison Billiam, with the +coffee, passed him a great fat cigar. Charles-Norton +threw a surreptitious glance at the heavy +band; it was a dollar cigar.</p> + +<p>Life, after all, has its compensations.</p> + + +<hr /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span><br /> +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p> +<hr /> + +<p class="cap">And now, how about Charles-Norton and +Dolly?</p> + +<p>Well, they are getting along very well; +very well, very well indeed.</p> + +<p>Of course, they have their little differences—as +have most couples. Mostly, it is about wings. +There seems to be a something fundamental +about both Charles-Norton and Dolly which irresistibly +makes them diverge on the question of +the proper length of wings (male wings at least). +For a time, in fact, during the first months of +their intoxicating public success and before they +had arrived to the present adjustment, the question +threatened to bring the conjugal craft to +a final wreck. Strangely enough (or naturally +enough) it is a catastrophe that eased the situation. +One night, after Dolly, in a sudden access +of resentment, had taken an immoderate whack +out of the left wing, Charles-Norton tumbled to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> +the ground in the midst of his performance, and +broke his ankle.</p> + +<p>It was, of course, in an agony of remorse that +Dolly nursed her husband during his long month +of enforced and bed-ridden idleness. Luckily, +Bison Billiam behaved beautifully. He let the +salary run on during the whole course of Charles-Norton's +incapacity, and then, with genial inspiration, +prevailed upon him, when he had recovered, +to make his public reappearance with +the heavy plaster-of-paris cast still upon the injured +leg—which immensely increased the Flying +Wonder's popularity and success.</p> + +<p>A <i>modus vivendi</i> was agreed upon after this, +which is still in force and works very well. +Bison Billiam was made the permanent arbitrator +of the wing question. Whenever they have +a little difference now, Charles-Norton and Dolly +go to Bison Billiam, and, standing before him +hand in hand, listen to a sage adjudication of +their rights and their wrongs. They call him +Papa Bison.</p> + +<p>And so, they are quite happy. Dolly, of course, +takes a keen pleasure in her home. She has a +neat little brick house, with a white door, near<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> +the Riverside Drive, and a butler. A butler always +had been Dolly's secret dream.</p> + +<p>Charles-Norton, also, though unconsciously +perhaps, gets a good deal of pleasure out of the +house (and the butler), for Dolly, with innate +genius, has given it an air of quiet elegance and +culture which he secretly enjoys. There is, also, +a certain contentment in living life along a +definite routine. He flies every night but +Sunday, and two afternoons a week. And +then, if Dolly has her house, he has his automobile.</p> + +<p>A big, high-powered, red automobile. He goes +out in it with Dolly every Sunday. When he +arrives to a certain point in a certain highway, +where the road is smooth and hard, and undulates +up and down like a Coney Island chute for +many miles, he leans forward and puts his chin +close to the back of the chauffeur, who is French, +and looks like Mephistopheles.</p> + +<p>"Let her out," he says.</p> + +<p>The chauffeur, with a grin, "lets her out"—and +they swoop down and up, down and up, in +increasing speed. The road is a ribbon, which +she rolls hungrily within her; the trees, the rare<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> +houses on both sides, coalesce into two solid, +whirling walls.</p> + +<p>"Faster," says Charles-Norton.</p> + +<p>The world becomes two parallel planes of solid +atmosphere, rushing along close to right and left; +the air strikes their faces like a fist, closing their +nostrils till they gasp; the machine's hum becomes +a cry; its flaps rise like wings.</p> + +<p>"Faster," says Charles-Norton.</p> + +<p>He seems to leave his body; it wafts off behind +on a current of air, like a hat—and he is only a +soul, a delicious kernel of soul ecstatically drunk, +floating like an atom through the eternities.</p> + +<p>"Faster," he says.</p> + +<p>But he is aware now of a shrill, insistent, +strident sound. It drills into his soul; it will +not be quiet; it will not let him be. Bing! His +body, catching up from behind, drops about him +again—and then he knows. It is Dolly; Dolly +screaming, poor little Dolly hysterical with fear.</p> + +<p>"Slow up," he says to the chauffeur.</p> + +<p>The world gradually changes from a mere +blur of parallel lines to visible groupings of +matter. Trees, houses, the road, the sky reappear +as through a curtain torn before them. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span>The chauffeur wipes his brow. "Ah, Monsieur!" +he says.</p> + +<p>And Dolly, very pale, says with an impatience +that seems weary, as though it were repeating +itself for the thousandth time "Oh, Goosie, why, +why, why will you scare me so?"</p> + +<p>Charles-Norton is penitent, but a bit morose. +"Gee," he says; "that wasn't fast. That wasn't +fast." His eyes go off, very far; a vague, vague +yearning, covered over with layer and layer of +resignation, palpitates faintly at the pit of his +being. "You don't know what speeding is," he +murmurs; "you don't know——"</p> + +<p>The machine, at smooth half-speed, is returning +toward the city. "I won't go with you +again," says Dolly.</p> + +<p>But she always does. She doesn't like to ride +fast, and he does, but she never lets him ride +alone. 'Cause she loves him!</p> + +<p>He will have to be more careful now, however. +The other evening, as they sat in the cozy reading-room +(lined with editions de luxe) after the +performance, she got upon his knee and, hiding +his eyes with her hands so he could not look at +her, whispered something in his ear.</p> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p> +<p>Charles-Norton sat silent a long moment after +that. Then he said, as though speaking to himself: +"I wonder if <i>he</i> will—if <i>he</i> will also—if +<i>he</i> will——"</p> + +<p>"I wonder; I wonder!" said Dolly, ecstatically, +her eyes wide upon a splendid vision.</p> + +<p>"We could keep them down," said Charles-Norton, +consideringly, "by beginning early. By +beginning early, with bandages, we could keep +them down——"</p> + +<p>To his great amazement, Dolly dissented. +"Oh, no, no, no, no!" she cried. "Oh, he +would look so cute with them—just like a little +angel! Just like a little angel, Goosie!"</p> + +<p>And Charles-Norton is still wondering about +this differentiation in Dolly's wise little head, +wondering why <i>he</i> can, while Goosie—can't.<br /><br /><br /></p> + +<p class="center">THE END</p> + +<div class="bbox"> +<h2>Transcriber's notes</h2> + +<p class="center"><b>The following were identified as spelling or typographic +errors and have been emended as noted.</b></p> +<dl> +<dt><a href="#Page_3">Page 3</a> - corrected calisthenics</dt> +<dd> +The mirror before which he had been performing his morning +calesthenics faced him uncompromisingly;</dd> + +<dt><a href="#Page_27">Page 27</a> - corrected you're</dt> + +<dd>"Well," he said finally, "maybe your right.</dd> + +<dt><a href="#Page_41">Page 41</a> - corrected telephone</dt> + +<dd>at the sound of the telphone bell.</dd> + +<dt><a href="#Page_42">Page 42</a> - corrected harassing</dt> + +<dd>which had suddenly solved for her the harrassing problem of +the spring hat</dd> + +<dt><a href="#Page_82">Page 82</a> - corrected resonant</dt> + +<dd>As it slid slowly out beneath the resonnant cupola,</dd> + +<dt><a href="#Page_105">Page 105</a> - corrected susurrant</dt> + +<dd>From their feet the meadow spreads, fresh and lush, +sussurant with the hidden flow of a brook,</dd> + +<dt><a href="#Page_130">Page 130</a> - corrected gliding</dt> + +<dd>and upon the stage, giding in from the West like a +Cinderella coach drawn by six white mice,</dd> + +<dt><a href="#Page_135">Page 135</a> - added opening quotation mark</dt> + +<dd>And so I fought it, John, I fought your love.</dd> + +<dt><a href="#Page_172">Page 172</a> - left as is - sizzing as unclear what was correct</dt> + +<dd>and finally he came down to her from the very zenith of the +dome in a sizzing straight line which opened</dd> + +<dt><a href="#Page_203">Page 203</a> - added closing quotation mark</dt> + +<dd>"It shall be regarded as a part of this agreement that the +length of the flying apparatus, whatsoever it may be, shall +be determined by the party of the first part.</dd> +</dl> +<p class="center"><b>All other unusual, colloquial or non-standard spelling and +punctuation has been left as in the original book.</b></p> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Trimming of Goosie, by James Hopper + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TRIMMING OF GOOSIE *** + +***** This file should be named 29319-h.htm or 29319-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/3/1/29319/ + +Produced by David Edwards, Jen Haines and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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