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diff --git a/2949-h/2949-h.htm b/2949-h/2949-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2efe40a --- /dev/null +++ b/2949-h/2949-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5651 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!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" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Stories of a Western Town, by Octave Thanet + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Stories of a Western Town, by Octave Thanet + +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: Stories of a Western Town + +Author: Octave Thanet + +Release Date: January 10, 2009 [EBook #2949] +Last Updated: March 16, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STORIES OF A WESTERN TOWN *** + + + + +Produced by Judy Boss, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + STORIES OF A WESTERN TOWN + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Octave Thanet + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + Contents + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> THE BESETMENT OF KURT LIEDERS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> THE FACE OF FAILURE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> TOMMY AND THOMAS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> MOTHER EMERITUS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> AN ASSISTED PROVIDENCE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> HARRY LOSSING </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE BESETMENT OF KURT LIEDERS + </h2> + <p> + A SILVER rime glistened all down the street. + </p> + <p> + There was a drabble of dead leaves on the sidewalk which was of wood, and + on the roadway which was of macadam and stiff mud. The wind blew sharply, + for it was a December day and only six in the morning. Nor were the houses + high enough to furnish any independent bulwark; they were low, wooden + dwellings, the tallest a bare two stories in height, the majority only one + story. But they were in good painting and repair, and most of them had a + homely gayety of geraniums or bouvardias in the windows. The house on the + corner was the tall house. It occupied a larger yard than its neighbors; + and there were lace curtains tied with blue ribbons for the windows in the + right hand front room. The door of this house swung back with a crash, and + a woman darted out. She ran at the top of her speed to the little yellow + house farther down the street. Her blue calico gown clung about her stout + figure and fluttered behind her, revealing her blue woollen stockings and + felt slippers. Her gray head was bare. As she ran tears rolled down her + cheeks and she wrung her hands. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh, lieber Herr Je!” One near would have heard her sob, in + too distracted agitation to heed the motorneer of the passing street-car + who stared after her at the risk of his car, or the tousled heads behind a + few curtains. She did not stop until she almost fell against the door of + the yellow house. Her frantic knocking was answered by a young woman in a + light and artless costume of a quilted petticoat and a red flannel sack. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, gracious goodness! Mrs. Lieders!” cried she. + </p> + <p> + Thekla Lieders rather staggered than walked into the room and fell back on + the black haircloth sofa. + </p> + <p> + “There, there, there,” said the young woman while she patted the broad + shoulders heaving between sobs and short breath, “what is it? The house + aint afire?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, oh, Mrs. Olsen, he has done it again!” She wailed in sobs, like a + child. + </p> + <p> + “Done it? Done what?” exclaimed Mrs. Olsen, then her face paled. “Oh, my + gracious, you DON'T mean he's killed himself———” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he's killed himself, again.” + </p> + <p> + “And he's dead?” asked the other in an awed tone. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Lieders gulped down her tears. “Oh, not so bad as that, I cut him + down, he was up in the garret and I sus—suspected him and I run up + and—oh, he was there, a choking, and he was so mad! He swore at me + and—he kicked me when I—I says: 'Kurt, what are you doing of? + Hold on till I git a knife,' I says—for his hands was just dangling + at his side; and he says nottings cause he couldn't, he was most gone, and + I knowed I wouldn't have time to git no knife but I saw it was a rope was + pretty bad worn and so—so I just run and jumped and ketched it in my + hands, and being I'm so fleshy it couldn't stand no more and it broke! + And, oh! he—he kicked me when I was try to come near to git the rope + off his neck; and so soon like he could git his breath he swore at me——” + </p> + <p> + “And you a helping of him! Just listen to that!” cried the hearer + indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “So I come here for to git you and Mr. Olsen to help me git him down + stairs, 'cause he is too heavy for me to lift, and he is so mad he won't + walk down himself.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, of course. I'll call Carl. Carl! dost thou hear? come! But did + you dare to leave him Mrs. Lieders?” Part of the time she spoke in + English, part of the time in her own tongue, gliding from one to another, + and neither party observing the transition. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Lieders wiped her eyes, saying: “Oh, yes, Danke schon, I aint afraid + 'cause I tied him with the rope, righd good, so he don't got no chance to + move. He was make faces at me all the time I tied him.” At the + remembrance, the tears welled anew. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Olsen, a little bright tinted woman with a nose too small for her big + blue eyes and chubby cheeks, quivered with indignant sympathy. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I did nefer hear of sooch a mean acting man!” seemed to her the + most natural expression; but the wife fired, at once. + </p> + <p> + “No, he is not a mean man,” she cried, “no, Freda Olsen, he is not a mean + man at all! There aint nowhere a better man than my man; and Carl Olsen, + he knows that. Kurt, he always buys a whole ham and a whole barrel of + flour, and never less than a dollar of sugar at a time! And he never gits + drunk nor he never gives me any bad talk. It was only he got this wanting + to kill himself on him, sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I guess I'll go put on my things,” said Mrs. Olsen, wisely + declining to defend her position. “You set right still and warm yourself, + and we'll be back in a minute.” + </p> + <p> + Indeed, it was hardly more than that time before both Carl Olsen, who + worked in the same furniture factory as Kurt Lieders, and was a comely and + after-witted giant, appeared with Mrs. Olsen ready for the street. + </p> + <p> + He nodded at Mrs. Lieders and made a gurgling noise in his throat, + expected to convey sympathy. Then, he coughed and said that he was ready, + and they started. + </p> + <p> + Feeling further expression demanded, Mrs. Olsen asked: “How many times has + he done it, Mrs. Lieders?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Lieders was trotting along, her anxious eyes on the house in the + distance, especially on the garret windows. “Three times,” she answered, + not removing her eyes; “onct he tooked Rough on Rats and I found it out + and I put some apple butter in the place of it, and he kept wondering and + wondering how he didn't feel notings, and after awhile I got him off the + notion, that time. He wasn't mad at me; he just said: 'Well, I do it some + other time. You see!' but he promised to wait till I got the spring house + cleaning over, so he could shake the carpets for me; and by and by he got + feeling better. He was mad at the boss and that made him feel bad. The + next time it was the same, that time he jumped into the cistern——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know,” said Olsen, with a half grin, “I pulled him out.” + </p> + <p> + “It was the razor he wanted,” the wife continued, “and when he come home + and says he was going to leave the shop and he aint never going back + there, and gets out his razor and sharps it, I knowed what that meant and + I told him I got to have some bluing and wouldn't he go and get it? and he + says, 'You won't git another husband run so free on your errands, Thekla,' + and I says I don't want none; and when he was gone I hid the razor and he + couldn't find it, but that didn't mad him, he didn't say notings; and when + I went to git the supper he walked out in the yard and jumped into the + cistern, and I heard the splash and looked in and there he was trying to + git his head under, and I called, 'For the Lord's sake, papa! For the + Lord's sake!' just like that. And I fished for him with the pole that + stood there and he was sorry and caught hold of it and give in, and I + rested the pole agin the side cause I wasn't strong enough to h'ist him + out; and he held on whilest I run for help——” + </p> + <p> + “And I got the ladder and he clum out,” said the giant with another grin + of recollection, “he was awful wet!” + </p> + <p> + “That was a month ago,” said the wife, solemnly. + </p> + <p> + “He sharped the razor onct,” said Mrs. Lieders, “but he said it was for to + shave him, and I got him to promise to let the barber shave him sometime, + instead. Here, Mrs. Olsen, you go righd in, the door aint locked.” + </p> + <p> + By this time they were at the house door. They passed in and ascended the + stairs to the second story, then climbed a narrow, ladder-like flight to + the garret. Involuntarily they had paused to listen at the foot of the + stairs, but it was very quiet, not a sound of movement, not so much as the + sigh of a man breathing. The wife turned pale and put both her shaking + hands on her heart. + </p> + <p> + “Guess he's trying to scare us by keeping quiet!” said Olsen, cheerfully, + and he stumbled up the stairs, in advance. “Thunder!” he exclaimed, on the + last stair, “well, we aint any too quick.” + </p> + <p> + In fact Carl had nearly fallen over the master of the house, that + enterprising self-destroyer having contrived, pinioned as he was, to roll + over to the very brink of the stair well, with the plain intent to break + his neck by plunging headlong. + </p> + <p> + In the dim light all that they could see was a small, old man whose white + hair was strung in wisps over his purple face, whose deep set eyes glared + like the eyes of a rat in a trap, and whose very elbows and knees + expressed in their cramps the fury of an outraged soul. When he saw the + new-comers he shut his eyes and his jaws. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mr. Lieders,” said Olsen, mildly, “I guess you better git + down-stairs. Kin I help you up?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Lieders. + </p> + <p> + “Will I give you an arm to lean on?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Won't you go at all, Mr. Lieders?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + Olsen shook his head. “I hate to trouble you, Mr. Lieders,” said he in his + slow, undecided tones, “please excuse me,” with which he gathered up the + little man into his strong arms and slung him over his shoulders, as + easily as he would sling a sack of meal. It was a vent for Mrs. Olsen's + bubbling indignation to make a dive for Lieders's heels and hold them, + while Carl backed down-stairs. But Lieders did not make the least + resistance. He allowed them to carry him into the room indicated by his + wife, and to lay him bound on the plump feather bed. It was not his + bedroom but the sacred “spare room,” and the bed was part of its luxury. + Thekla ran in, first, to remove the embroidered pillow shams and the + dazzling, silken “crazy quilt” that was her choicest possession. + </p> + <p> + Safely in the bed, Lieders opened his eyes and looked from one face to the + other, his lip curling. “You can't keep me this way all the time. I can do + it in spite of you,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I think you had ought to be ashamed of yourself, Mr. Lieders!” Mrs. + Olsen burst out, in a tremble between wrath and exertion, shaking her + little, plump fist at him. + </p> + <p> + But the placid Carl only nodded, as in sympathy, saying, “Well, I am sorry + you feel so bad, Mr. Lieders. I guess we got to go now.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Olsen looked as if she would have liked to exhort Lieders further; + but she shrugged her shoulders and followed her husband in silence. + </p> + <p> + “I wished you'd stay to breakfast, now you're here,” Thekla urged out of + her imperious hospitality; had Kurt been lying there dead, the next meal + must have been offered, just the same. “I know, you aint got time to git + Mr. Olsen his breakfast, Freda, before he has got to go to the shops, and + my tea-kettle is boiling now, and the coffee'll be ready—I GUESS you + had better stay.” + </p> + <p> + But Mrs. Olsen seconded her husband's denial, and there was nothing left + Thekla but to see them to the door. No sooner did she return than Lieders + spoke. “Aint you going to take off them ropes?” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Not till you promise you won't do it.” + </p> + <p> + Silence. Thekla, brushing a few tears from her eyes, scrutinized the ropes + again, before she walked heavily out of the room. She turned the key in + the door. + </p> + <p> + Directly a savory steam floated through the hall and pierced the cracks + about the door; then Thekla's footsteps returned; they echoed over the + uncarpeted boards. + </p> + <p> + She had brought his breakfast, cooked with the best of her homely skill. + The pork chops that he liked had been fried, there was a napkin on the + tray, and the coffee was in the best gilt cup and saucer. + </p> + <p> + “Here's your breakfast, papa,” said she, trying to smile. + </p> + <p> + “I don't want no breakfast,” said he. + </p> + <p> + She waited, holding the tray, and wistfully eying him. + </p> + <p> + “Take it 'way,” said he, “I won't touch it if you stand till doomsday, + lessen you untie me!” + </p> + <p> + “I'll untie your arm, papa, one arm; you kin eat that way.” + </p> + <p> + “Not lessen you untie all of me, I won't touch a bite.” + </p> + <p> + “You know why I won't untie you, papa.” + </p> + <p> + “Starving will kill as dead as hanging,” was Lieders's orphic response to + this. + </p> + <p> + Thekla sighed and went away, leaving the tray on the table. It may be that + she hoped the sight of food might stir his stomach to rebel against his + dogged will; if so she was disappointed; half an hour went by during which + the statue under the bedclothes remained without so much as a quiver. + </p> + <p> + Then the old woman returned. “Aint you awful cramped and stiff, papa?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the statue. + </p> + <p> + “Will you promise not to do yourself a mischief, if I untie you?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + Thekla groaned, while the tears started to her red eyelids. “But you'll + git awful tired and it will hurt you if you don't get the ropes off, soon, + papa!” + </p> + <p> + “I know that!” + </p> + <p> + He closed his eyes again, to be the less hindered from dropping back into + his distempered musings. Thekla took a seat by his side and sat silent as + he. Slowly the natural pallor returned to the high forehead and sharp + features. They were delicate features and there was an air of refinement, + of thought, about Lieders's whole person, as different as possible from + the robust comeliness of his wife. With its keen sensitive-ness and its + undefined melancholy it was a dreamer's face. One meets such faces, + sometimes, in incongruous places and wonders what they mean. In fact, Kurt + Lieders, head cabinet maker in the furniture factory of Lossing & Co., + was an artist. He was, also, an incomparable artisan and the most exacting + foreman in the shops. Thirty years ago he had first taken wages from the + senior Lossing. He had watched a modest industry climb up to a great + business, nor was he all at sea in his own estimate of his share in the + firm's success. Lieders's workmanship had an honesty, an infinite patience + of detail, a daring skill of design that came to be sought and commanded + its own price. The Lossing “art furniture” did not slander the name. No + sculptor ever wrought his soul into marble with a more unflinching + conscience or a purer joy in his work than this wood-carver dreaming over + sideboards and bedsteads. Unluckily, Lieders had the wrong side of the + gift as well as the right; was full of whims and crotchets, and as + unpractical as the Christian martyrs. He openly defied expense, and he + would have no trifling with the laws of art. To make after orders was an + insult to Kurt. He made what was best for the customer; if the latter had + not the sense to see it he was a fool and a pig, and some one else should + work for him, not Kurt Lieders, BEGEHR! + </p> + <p> + Young Lossing had learned the business practically. He was taught the + details by his father's best workman; and a mighty hard and strict master + the best workman proved! Lossing did not dream that the crabbed old tyrant + who rarely praised him, who made him go over, for the twentieth time, any + imperfect piece of work, who exacted all the artisan virtues to the last + inch, was secretly proud of him. Yet, in fact, the thread of romance in + Lieders's prosaic life was his idolatry of the Lossing Manufacturing Co. + It is hard to tell whether it was the Lossings or that intangible + quantity, the firm, the business, that he worshipped. Worship he did, + however, the one or the other, perhaps the both of them, though in the + peevish and erratic manner of the savage who sometimes grovels to his + idols and sometimes kicks them. + </p> + <p> + Nobody guessed what a blow it was to Kurt when, a year ago, the elder + Lossing had died. Even his wife did not connect his sullen melancholy and + his gibes at the younger generation, with the crape on Harry Lossing's + hat. He would not go to the funeral, but worked savagely, all alone by + himself, in the shop, the whole afternoon—breaking down at last at + the sight of a carved panel over which Lossing and he had once disputed. + The desolate loneliness of the old came to him when his old master was + gone. He loved the young man, but the old man was of his own generation; + he had “known how things ought to be and he could understand without + talking.” Lieders began to be on the lookout for signs of waning + consideration, to watch his own eyes and hands, drearily wondering when + they would begin to play him false; at the same time because he was + unhappy he was ten times as exacting and peremptory and critical with the + younger workmen, and ten times as insolently independent with the young + master. Often enough, Lossing was exasperated to the point of taking the + old man at his word and telling him to go if he would, but every time the + chain of long habit, a real respect for such faithful service, and a keen + admiration for Kurt's matchless skill in his craft, had held him back. He + prided himself on keeping his word; for that reason he was warier of using + it. So he would compromise by giving the domineering old fellow a “good, + stiff rowing.” Once, he coupled this with a threat, if they could not get + along decently they would better part! Lieders had answered not a word; he + had given Lossing a queer glance and turned on his heel. He went home and + bought some poison on the way. “The old man is gone and the young feller + don't want the old crank round, no more,” he said to himself. “Thekla, I + guess I make her troubles, too; I'll git out!” + </p> + <p> + That was the beginning of his tampering with suicide. Thekla, who did not + have the same opinion of the “trouble,” had interfered. He had married + Thekla to have someone to keep a warm fireside for him, but she was an + ignorant creature who never could be made to understand about carving. He + felt sorry for her when the baby died, the only child they ever had; he + was sorrier than he expected to be on his own account, too, for it was an + ugly little creature, only four days old, and very red and wrinkled; but + he never thought of confiding his own griefs or trials to her. Now, it + made him angry to have that stupid Thekla keep him in a world where he did + not wish to stay. If the next day Lossing had not remembered how his + father valued Lieders, and made an excuse to half apologize to him, I fear + Thekla's stratagems would have done little good. + </p> + <p> + The next experience was cut out of the same piece of cloth. He had + relented, he had allowed his wife to save him; but he was angry in secret. + Then came the day when open disobedience to Lossing's orders had snapped + the last thread of Harry's patience. To Lieders's aggrieved “If you ain't + satisfied with my work, Mr. Lossing, I kin quit,” the answer had come + instantly, “Very well, Lieders, I'm sorry to lose you, but we can't have + two bosses here: you can go to the desk.” And when Lieders in a blind stab + of temper had growled a prophecy that Lossing would regret it, Lossing had + stabbed in turn: “Maybe, but it will be a cold day when I ask you to come + back.” And he had gone off without so much as a word of regret. The old + workman had packed up his tools, the pet tools that no one was ever + permitted to touch, and crammed his arms into his coat and walked out of + the place where he had worked so long, not a man saying a word. Lieders + didn't reflect that they knew nothing of the quarrel. He glowered at them + and went away sore at heart. We make a great mistake when we suppose that + it is only the affectionate that desire affection; sulky and + ill-conditioned souls often have a passionate longing for the very + feelings that they repel. Lieders was a womanish, sensitive creature under + the surly mask, and he was cut to the quick by his comrades' apathy. + “There ain't no place for old men in this world,” he thought, “there's + them boys I done my best to make do a good job, and some of 'em I've + worked overtime to help; and not one of 'em has got as much as a good-by + in him for me!” + </p> + <p> + But he did not think of going to poor Thekla for comfort, he went to his + grim dreams. “I git my property all straight for Thekla, and then I quit,” + said he. Perhaps he gave himself a reprieve unconsciously, thinking that + something might happen to save him from himself. Nothing happened. None of + the “boys” came to see him, except Carl Olsen, the very stupidest man in + the shop, who put Lieders beside himself fifty times a day. The other men + were sorry that Lieders had gone, having a genuine workman's admiration + for his skill, and a sort of underground liking for the unreasonable old + man because he was so absolutely honest and “a fellow could always tell + where to find him.” But they were shy, they were afraid he would take + their pity in bad part, they “waited a while.” + </p> + <p> + Carl, honest soul, stood about in Lieders's workshop, kicking the shavings + with his heels for half an hour, and grinned sheepishly, and was told what + a worthless, scamping, bragging lot the “boys” at Lossing's were, and said + he guessed he had got to go home now; and so departed, unwitting that his + presence had been a consolation. Mrs. Olsen asked Carl what Lieders said; + Carl answered simply, “Say, Freda, that man feels terrible bad.” + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile Thekla seemed easily satisfied. She made no outcry as Lieders + had dreaded, over his leaving the shop. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, papa, you don't need git up so early in the morning no more, + if you aint going to the shop,” was her only comment; and Lieders despised + the mind of woman more than ever. + </p> + <p> + But that evening, while Lieders was down town (occupied, had she known it, + with a codicil to his will), she went over to the Olsens and found out all + Carl could tell her about the trouble in the shop. And it was she that + made the excuse of marketing to go out the next day, that she might see + the rich widow on the hill who was talking about a china closet, and Judge + Trevor, who had asked the price of a mantel, and Mr. Martin, who had + looked at sideboards (all this information came from honest Carl); and who + proposed to them that they order such furniture of the best cabinet-maker + in the country, now setting up on his own account. He, simple as a baby + for all his doggedness, thought that they came because of his fame as a + workman, and felt a glow of pride, particularly as (having been prepared + by the wife, who said, “You see it don't make so much difference with my + Kurt 'bout de prize, if so he can get the furniture like he wants it, and + he always know of the best in the old country”) they all were duly humble. + He accepted a few orders and went to work with a will; he would show them + what the old man could do. But it was only a temporary gleam; in a little + while he grew homesick for the shop, for the sawdust floor and the + familiar smell of oil, and the picture of Lossing flitting in and out. He + missed the careless young workmen at whom he had grumbled, he missed the + whir of machinery, and the consciousness of rush and hurry accented by the + cars on the track outside. In short, he missed the feeling of being part + of a great whole. At home, in his cosey little improvised shop, there was + none to dispute him, but there was none to obey him either. He grew + deathly tired of it all. He got into the habit of walking around the shops + at night, prowling about his old haunts like a cat. Once the night + watchman saw him. The next day there was a second watchman engaged. And + Olsen told him very kindly, meaning only to warn him, that he was + suspected to be there for no good purpose. Lieders confirmed a lurking + suspicion of the good Carl's own, by the clouding of his face. Yet he + would have chopped his hand off rather than have lifted it against the + shop. + </p> + <p> + That was Tuesday night, this was Wednesday morning. + </p> + <p> + The memory of it all, the cruel sense of injustice, returned with such + poignant force that Lieders groaned aloud. + </p> + <p> + Instantly, Thekla was bending over him. He did not know whether to laugh + at her or to swear, for she began fumbling at the ropes, half sobbing. + “Yes, I knowed they was hurting you, papa; I'm going to loose one arm. + Then I put it back again and loose the other. Please don't be bad!” + </p> + <p> + He made no resistance and she was as good as her word. She unbound and + bound him in sections, as it were; he watching her with a morose smile. + </p> + <p> + Then she left the room, but only to return with some hot coffee. Lieders + twisted his head away. “No,” said he, “I don't eat none of that breakfast, + not if you make fresh coffee all the morning; I feel like I don't eat + never no more on earth.” + </p> + <p> + Thekla knew that the obstinate nature that she tempted was proof against + temptation; if Kurt chose to starve, starve he would with food at his + elbow. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, papa,” she cried, helplessly, “what IS the matter with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Just dying is the matter with me, Thekla. If I can't die one way I kin + another. Now Thekla, I want you to quit crying and listen. After I'm gone + you go to the boss, young Mr. Lossing—but I always called him Harry + because he learned his trade of me, Thekla, but he don't think of that now—and + you tell him old Lieders that worked for him thirty years is dead, but he + didn't hold no hard feelings, he knowed he done wrong 'bout that mantel. + Mind you tell him.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, papa,” said Thekla, which was a surprise to Kurt; he had dreaded a + weak flood of tears and protestations. But there were no tears, no + protestations, only a long look at him and a contraction of the eyebrows + as if Thekla were trying to think of something that eluded her. She placed + the coffee on the tray beside the other breakfast. For a while the room + was very still. Lieders could not see the look of resolve that finally + smoothed the perplexed lines out of his wife's kind, simple old face. She + rose. “Kurt,” she said, “I don't guess you remember this is our + wedding-day; it was this day, eighteen year we was married.” + </p> + <p> + “So!” said Lieders, “well, I was a bad bargain to you, Thekla; after you + nursed your father that was a cripple for twenty years, I thought it would + be easy with me; but I was a bad bargain.” + </p> + <p> + “The Lord knows best about that,” said Thekla, simply, “be it how it be, + you are the only man I ever had or will have, and I don't like you starve + yourself. Papa, say you don't kill yourself, to-day, and dat you will eat + your breakfast!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” Lieders repeated in German, “a bad bargain for thee, that is sure. + But thou hast been a good bargain for me. Here! I promise. Not this day. + Give me the coffee.” + </p> + <p> + He had seasons, all the morning, of wondering over his meekness, and his + agreement to be tied up again, at night. But still, what did a day matter? + a man humors women's notions; and starving was so tedious. Between whiles + he elaborated a scheme to attain his end. How easy to outwit the silly + Thekla! His eyes shone, as he hid the little, sharp knife up his cuff. + “Let her tie me!” says Lieders, “I keep my word. To-morrow I be out of + this. He won't git a man like me, pretty soon!” + </p> + <p> + Thekla went about her daily tasks, with her every-day air; but, now and + again, that same pucker of thought returned to her forehead; and, more + than once, Lieders saw her stand over some dish, poising her spoon in air, + too abstracted to notice his cynical observation. + </p> + <p> + The dinner was more elaborate than common, and Thekla had broached a + bottle of her currant wine. She gravely drank Lieders's health. “And many + good days, papa,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Lieders felt a queer movement of pity. After the table was cleared, he + helped his wife to wash and wipe the dishes as his custom was of a Sunday + or holiday. He wiped dishes as he did everything, neatly, slowly, with a + careful deliberation. Not until the dishes were put away and the couple + were seated, did Thekla speak. + </p> + <p> + “Kurt,” she said, “I got to talk to you.” + </p> + <p> + An inarticulate groan and a glance at the door from Lieders. “I just got + to, papa. It aint righd for you to do the way you been doing for so long + time; efery little whiles you try to kill yourself; no, papa, that aint + righd!” + </p> + <p> + Kurt, who had gotten out his pencils and compasses and other drawing + tools, grunted: “I got to look at my work, Thekla, now; I am too busy to + talk.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Kurt, no, papa”—the hands holding the blue apron that she was + embroidering with white linen began to tremble; Lieders had not the least + idea what a strain it was on this reticent, slow of speech woman who had + stood in awe of him for eighteen years, to discuss the horror of her life; + but he could not help marking her agitation. She went on, desperately: + “Yes, papa, I got to talk it oud with you. You had ought to listen, 'cause + I always been a good wife to you and nefer refused you notings. No.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I aint saying I done it 'cause you been bad to me; everybody knows + we aint had no trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “But everybody what don't know us, when they read how you tried to kill + yourself in the papers, they think it was me. That always is so. And now I + never can any more sleep nights, for you is always maybe git up and do + something to yourself. So now, I got to talk to you, papa. Papa, how could + you done so?” + </p> + <p> + Lieders twisted his feet under the rungs of his chair; he opened his + mouth, but only to shut it again with a click of his teeth. + </p> + <p> + “I got my mind made up, papa. I tought and I tought. I know WHY you done + it; you done it 'cause you and the boss was mad at each other. The boss + hadn't no righd to let you go———” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he had, I madded him first; I was a fool. Of course I knowed more + than him 'bout the work, but I hadn't no right to go against him. The boss + is all right.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, papa, I got my mind made up”—like most sluggish spirits there + was an immense momentum about Thekla's mind, once get it fairly started it + was not to be diverted—“you never killed yourself before you used to + git mad at the boss. You was afraid he would send you away; and now you + have sent yourself away you don't want to live, 'cause you do not know how + you can git along without the shop. But you want to get back, you want to + get back more as you want to kill yourself. Yes, papa, I know, I know + where you did used to go, nights. Now”—she changed her speech + unconsciously to the tongue of her youth—“it is not fair, it is not + fair to me that thou shouldst treat me like that, thou dost belong to me, + also; so I say, my Kurt, wilt thou make a bargain with me? If I shall get + thee back thy place wilt thou promise me never to kill thyself any more?” + </p> + <p> + Lieders had not once looked up at her during the slow, difficult sentences + with their half choked articulation; but he was experiencing some strange + emotions, and one of them was a novel respect for his wife. All he said + was: “'Taint no use talking. I won't never ask him to take me back, once.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you aint asking of him. <i>I</i> ask him. I try to git you back, + once!” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you, it aint no use; I know the boss, he aint going to be letting + womans talk him over; no, he's a good man, he knows how to work his + business himself!” + </p> + <p> + “But would you promise me, Kurt?” + </p> + <p> + Lieders's eyes blurred with a mild and dreamy mist; he sighed softly. + “Thekla, you can't see how it is. It is like you are tied up, if I don't + can do that; if I can then it is always that I am free, free to go, free + to stay. And for you, Thekla, it is the same.” + </p> + <p> + Thekla's mild eyes flashed. “I don't believe you would like it so you wake + up in the morning and find ME hanging up in the kitchen by the + clothes-line!” + </p> + <p> + Lieders had the air of one considering deeply. Then he gave Thekla one of + the surprises of her life; he rose from his chair, he walked in his + shuffling, unheeled slippers across the room to where the old woman sat; + he put one arm on the back of the chair and stiffly bent over her and + kissed her. + </p> + <p> + “Lieber Herr Je!” gasped Thekla. + </p> + <p> + “Then I shall go, too, pretty quick, that is all, mamma,” said he. + </p> + <p> + Thekla wiped her eyes. A little pause fell between them, and in it they + may have both remembered vanished, half-forgotten days when life had + looked differently to them, when they had never thought to sit by their + own fireside and discuss suicide. The husband spoke first; with a + reluctant, half-shamed smile, “Thekla, I tell you what, I make the bargain + with you; you git me back that place, I don't do it again, 'less you let + me; you don't git me back that place, you don't say notings to me.” + </p> + <p> + The apron dropped from the withered, brown hands to the floor. Again there + was silence; but not for long; ghastly as was the alternative, the + proposal offered a chance to escape from the terror that was sapping her + heart. + </p> + <p> + “How long will you give me, papa?” said she. + </p> + <p> + “I give you a week,” said he. + </p> + <p> + Thekla rose and went to the door; as she opened it a fierce gust of wind + slashed her like a knife, and Lieders exclaimed, fretfully, “what you + opening that door for, Thekla, letting in the wind? I'm so cold, now, + right by the fire, I most can't draw. We got to keep a fire in the + base-burner good, all night, or the plants will freeze.” + </p> + <p> + Thekla said confusedly that something sounded like a cat crying. “And you + talking like that it frightened me; maybe I was wrong to make such + bargains———” + </p> + <p> + “Then don't make it,” said Lieders, curtly, “I aint asking you.” + </p> + <p> + But Thekla drew a long breath and straightened herself, saying, “Yes, I + make it, papa, I make it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, put another stick of wood in the stove, will you, now you are up?” + said Lieders, shrugging his shoulders, “or I'll freeze in spite of you! It + seems to me it grows colder every minute.” + </p> + <p> + But all that day he was unusually gentle with Thekla. He talked of his + youth and the struggles of the early days of the firm; he related a dozen + tales of young Lossing, all illustrating some admirable trait that he + certainly had not praised at the time. Never had he so opened his heart in + regard to his own ideals of art, his own ambitions. And Thekla listened, + not always comprehending but always sympathizing; she was almost like a + comrade, Kurt thought afterward. + </p> + <p> + The next morning, he was surprised to have her appear equipped for the + street, although it was bitterly cold. She wore her garb of ceremony, a + black alpaca gown, with a white crocheted collar neatly turned over the + long black, broadcloth cloak in which she had taken pride for the last + five years; and her quilted black silk bonnet was on her gray head. When + she put up her foot to don her warm overshoes Kurt saw that the stout + ankles were encased in white stockings. This was the last touch. + “Gracious, Thekla,” cried Kurt, “are you going to market this day? It is + the coldest day this winter!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't mind,” replied Thekla, nervously. Then she had wrapped a + scarf about her and gone out while he was getting into his own coat, and + conning a proffer to go in her stead. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, Thekla she aint such a fool like she looks!” he observed to the + cat, “say, pussy, WAS it you out yestiddy?” + </p> + <p> + The cat only blinked her yellow eyes and purred. She knew that she had not + been out, last night. Not any better than her mistress, however, who at + this moment was hailing a street-car. + </p> + <p> + The street-car did not land her anywhere near a market; it whirled her + past the lines of low wooden houses into the big brick shops with their + arched windows and terra-cotta ornaments that showed the ambitious + architecture of a growing Western town, past these into mills and + factories and smoke-stained chimneys. Here, she stopped. An acquaintance + would hardly have recognized her, her ruddy cheeks had grown so pale. But + she trotted on to the great building on the corner from whence came a low, + incessant buzz. She went into the first door and ran against Carl Olsen. + “Carl, I got to see Mr. Lossing,” said she breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + “There ain't noding——” + </p> + <p> + “No, Gott sei dank', but I got to see him.” + </p> + <p> + It was not Carl's way to ask questions; he promptly showed her the office + and she entered. She had not seen young Harry Lossing half a dozen times; + and, now, her anxious eyes wandered from one dapper figure at the high + desks, to another, until Lossing advanced to her. + </p> + <p> + He was a handsome young man, she thought, and he had kind eyes, but they + hardened at her first timid sentence: “I am Mrs. Lieders, I come about my + man——” + </p> + <p> + “Will you walk in here, Mrs. Lieders?” said Lossing. His voice was like + the ice on the window-panes. + </p> + <p> + She followed him into a little room. He shut the door. + </p> + <p> + Declining the chair that he pushed toward her she stood in the centre of + the room, looking at him with the pleading eyes of a child. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Lossing, will you please save my Kurt from killing himself?” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” Lossing's voice had not thawed. + </p> + <p> + “It is for you that he will kill himself, Mr. Lossing. This is the dird + time he has done it. It is because he is so lonesome now, your father is + died and he thinks that you forget, and he has worked so hard for you, but + he thinks that you forget. He was never tell me till yesterday; and then—it + was—it was because I would not let him hang himself——” + </p> + <p> + “Hang himself?” stammered Lossing, “you don't mean——” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he was hang himself, but I cut him, no I broke him down,” said + Thekla, accurate in all the disorder of her spirits; and forthwith, with + many tremors, but clearly, she told the story of Kurt's despair. She told, + as Lieders never would have known how to tell, even had his pride let him, + all the man's devotion for the business, all his personal attachment to + the firm; she told of his gloom after the elder Lossing died, “for he was + think there was no one in this town such good man and so smart like your + fader, Mr. Lossing, no, and he would set all the evening and try to draw + and make the lines all wrong, and, then, he would drow the papers in the + fire and go and walk outside and he say, 'I can't do nothing righd no more + now the old man's died; they don't have no use for me at the shop, pretty + quick!' and that make him feel awful bad!” She told of his homesick + wanderings about the shops by night; “but he was better as a watchman, he + wouldn't hurt it for the world! He telled me how you was hide his + dinner-pail onct for a joke, and put in a piece of your pie, and how you + climbed on the roof with the hose when it was afire. And he telled me if + he shall die I shall tell you that he ain't got no hard feelings, but you + didn't know how that mantel had ought to be, so he done it right the other + way, but he hadn't no righd to talk to you like he done, nohow, and you + was all righd to send him away, but you might a shaked hands, and none of + the boys never said nothing nor none of them never come to see him, 'cept + Carl Olsen, and that make him feel awful bad, too! And when he feels so + bad he don't no more want to live, so I make him promise if I git him back + he never try to kill himself again. Oh, Mr. Lossing, please don't let my + man die!” + </p> + <p> + Bewildered and more touched than he cared to feel, himself, Lossing still + made a feeble stand for discipline. “I don't see how Lieders can expect me + to take him back again,” he began. + </p> + <p> + “He aint expecting you, Mr. Lossing, it's ME!” + </p> + <p> + “But didn't Lieders tell you I told him I would never take him back?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, no, Mr. Lossing, it was not that, it was you said it would be a + cold day that you would take him back; and it was git so cold yesterday, + so I think, 'Now it would be a cold day to-morrow and Mr. Lossing he can + take Kurt back.' And it IS the most coldest day this year!” + </p> + <p> + Lossing burst into a laugh, perhaps he was glad to have the Western sense + of humor come to the rescue of his compassion. “Well, it was a cold day + for you to come all this way for nothing,” said he. “You go home and tell + Lieders to report to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Kurt's manner of receiving the news was characteristic. He snorted in + disgust: “Well, I did think he had more sand than to give in to a woman!” + But after he heard the whole story he chuckled: “Yes, it was that way he + said, and he must do like he said; but that was a funny way you done, + Thekla. Say, mamma, yesterday, was you look out for the cat or to find how + cold it been?” + </p> + <p> + “Never you mind, papa,” said Thekla, “you remember what you promised if I + git you back?” + </p> + <p> + Lieders's eyes grew dull; he flung his arms out, with a long sigh. “No, I + don't forget, I will keep my promise, but—it is like the handcuffs, + Thekla, it is like the handcuffs!” In a second, however, he added, in a + changed tone, “But thou art a kind jailer, mamma, more like a comrade. And + no, it was not fair to thee—I know that now, Thekla.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE FACE OF FAILURE + </h2> + <p> + AFTER the week's shower the low Iowa hills looked vividly green. At the + base of the first range of hills the Blackhawk road winds from the city to + the prairie. From its starting-point, just outside the city limits, the + wayfarer may catch bird's-eye glimpses of the city, the vast river that + the Iowans love, and the three bridges tying three towns to the island + arsenal. But at one's elbow spreads Cavendish's melon farm. Cavendish's + melon farm it still is, in current phrase, although Cavendish, whose + memory is honored by lovers of the cantaloupe melon, long ago departed to + raise melons for larger markets; and still a weather-beaten sign creaks + from a post announcing to the world that “the celebrated Cavendish Melons + are for Sale here!” To-day the melon-vines were softly shaded by + rain-drops. A pleasant sight they made, spreading for acres in front of + the green-houses where mushrooms and early vegetables strove to outwit the + seasons, and before the brown cottage in which Cavendish had begun a + successful career. The black roof-tree of the cottage sagged in the + middle, and the weather-boarding was dingy with the streaky dinginess of + old paint that has never had enough oil. The fences, too, were unpainted + and rudely patched. Nevertheless a second glance told one that there were + no gaps in them, that the farm machines kept their bright colors well + under cover, and that the garden rows were beautifully straight and clean. + An old white horse switched its sleek sides with its long tail and drooped + its untrammelled neck in front of the gate. The wagon to which it was + harnessed was new and had just been washed. Near the gate stood a girl and + boy who seemed to be mutually studying each other's person. Decidedly the + girl's slim, light figure in its dainty frock repaid one's eyes for their + trouble; and her face, with its brilliant violet eyes, its full, soft + chin, its curling auburn hair and delicate tints, was charming; but her + brother's look was anything but approving. His lip curled and his small + gray eyes grew smaller under his scowling brows. + </p> + <p> + “Is THAT your best suit?” said the girl. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is; and it's GOING to be for one while,” said the boy. + </p> + <p> + It was a suit of the cotton mixture that looks like wool when it is new, + and cuts a figure on the counters of every dealer in cheap ready-made + clothing. It had been Tim Powell's best attire for a year; perhaps he had + not been careful enough of it, and that was why it no longer cared even to + imitate wool; it was faded to the hue of a clay bank, it was threadbare, + the trousers bagged at the knees, the jacket bagged at the elbows, the + pockets bulged flabbily from sheer force of habit, although there was + nothing in them. + </p> + <p> + “I thought you were to have a new suit,” said the girl. “Uncle told me + himself he was going to buy you one yesterday when you went to town.” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't have asked him to buy me anything yesterday for more'n a suit + of clothes.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” The girl opened her eyes. “Didn't he do anything with the lawyer? + Is that why you are both so glum this morning?” + </p> + <p> + “No, he didn't. The lawyer says the woman that owns the mortgage has got + to have the money. And it's due next week.” + </p> + <p> + The girl grew pale all over her pretty rosy cheeks; her eyes filled with + tears as she gasped, “Oh, how hateful of her, when she promised——” + </p> + <p> + “She never promised nothing, Eve; it ain't been hers for more than three + months. Sloan, that used to have it, died, and left his property to be + divided up between his nieces; and the mortgage is her share. See?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care, it's just as mean. Mr. Sloan promised.” + </p> + <p> + “No, he didn't; he jest said if Uncle was behind he wouldn't press him; + and he did let Uncle get behind with the interest two times and never + kicked. But he died; and now the woman, she wants her money!” + </p> + <p> + “I think it is mean and cruel of her to turn us out! Uncle says mortgages + are wicked anyhow, and I believe him!” + </p> + <p> + “I guess he couldn't have bought this place if he didn't give a mortgage + on it. And he'd have had enough to pay cash, too, if Richards hadn't + begged him so to lend it to him.” + </p> + <p> + “When is Richards going to pay him?” + </p> + <p> + “It come due three months ago; Richards ain't never paid up the interest + even, and now he says he's got to have the mortgage extended for three + years; anyhow for two.” + </p> + <p> + “But don't he KNOW we've got to pay our own mortgage? How can we help HIM? + I wish Uncle would sell him out!” + </p> + <p> + The boy gave her the superior smile of the masculine creature. “I + suppose,” he remarked with elaborate irony, “that he's like Uncle and you; + he thinks mortgages are wicked.” + </p> + <p> + “And just as like as not Uncle won't want to go to the carnival,” Eve went + on, her eyes filling again. + </p> + <p> + Tim gazed at her, scowling and sneering; but she was absorbed in dreams + and hopes with which as yet his boyish mind had no point of contact. + </p> + <p> + “All the girls in the A class were going to go to see the fireworks + together, and George Dean and some of the boys were going to take us, and + we were going to have tea at May Arlington's house, and I was to stay all + night;”—this came in a half sob. “I think it is just too mean! I + never have any good times!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, you do, sis, lots! Uncle always gits you everything you want. + And he feels terrible bad when I—when he knows he can't afford to + git something you want——” + </p> + <p> + “I know well enough who tells him we can't afford things!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, do you want us to git things we can't afford? I ain't never advised + him except the best I knew how. I told him Richards was a blow-hard, and I + told him those Alliance grocery folks he bought such a lot of truck of + would skin him, and they did; those canned things they sold him was all + musty, and they said there wasn't any freight on 'em, and he had to pay + freight and a fancy price besides; and I don't believe they had any more + to do with the Alliance than our cow!” + </p> + <p> + “Uncle always believes everything. He always is so sure things are going + to turn out just splendid; and they don't—only just middling; and + then he loses a lot of money.” + </p> + <p> + “But he is an awful good man,” said the boy, musingly. + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe in being so good you can't make money. I don't want + always to be poor and despised, and have the other girls have prettier + clothes than me!” + </p> + <p> + “I guess you can be pretty good and yet make money, if you are sharp + enough. Of course you got to be sharper to be good and make money than you + got to be, to be mean and make money.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I know one thing, that Uncle ain't EVER going to make money. He——” + The last word shrivelled on her lips, which puckered into a confused smile + at the warning frown of her brother. The man that they were discussing had + come round to them past the henhouse. How much had he overheard? + </p> + <p> + He didn't seem angry, anyhow. He called: “Well, Evy, ready?” and Eve was + glad to run into the house for her hat without looking at him. It was a + relief that she must sit on the back seat where she need not face Uncle + Nelson. Tim sat in front; but Tim was so stupid he wouldn't mind. + </p> + <p> + Nor did he; it was Nelson Forrest that stole furtive glances at the lad's + profile, the knitted brows, the freckled cheeks, the undecided nose, and + firm mouth. + </p> + <p> + The boyish shoulders slouched forward at the same angle as that of the + fifty-year-old shoulders beside him. Nelson, through long following of the + plough, had lost the erect carriage painfully acquired in the army. He was + a handsome man, whose fresh-colored skin gave him a perpetual appearance + of having just washed his face. The features were long and delicate. The + brown eyes had a liquid softness like the eyes of a woman. In general the + countenance was alertly intelligent; he looked younger than his years; but + this afternoon the lines about his mouth and in his brows warranted every + gray hair of his pointed short beard. There was a reason. Nelson was + having one of those searing flashes of insight that do come occasionally + to the most blindly hopeful souls. Nelson had hoped all his life. He hoped + for himself, he hoped for the whole human race. He served the abstraction + that he called “PROgress” with unflinching and unquestioning loyalty. + Every new scheme of increasing happiness by force found a helper, a + fighter, and a giver in him; by turns he had been an Abolitionist, a + Fourierist, a Socialist, a Greenbacker, a Farmers' Alliance man. + Disappointment always was followed hard on its heels by a brand-new + confidence. Progress ruled his farm as well as his politics; he bought the + newest implements and subscribed trustfully to four agricultural papers; + but being a born lover of the ground, a vein of saving doubt did assert + itself sometimes in his work; and, on the whole, as a farmer he was + successful. But his success never ventured outside his farm gates. At + buying or selling, at a bargain in any form, the fourteen-year-old Tim was + better than Nelson with his fifty years' experience of a wicked and + bargaining world. + </p> + <p> + Was that any part of the reason, he wondered to-day, why at the end of + thirty years of unflinching toil and honesty, he found himself with a vast + budget of experience in the ruinous loaning of money, with a mortgage on + the farm of a friend, and a mortgage on his own farm likely to be + foreclosed? Perhaps it might have been better to stay in Henry County. He + had paid for his farm at last. He had known a good moment, too, that day + he drove away from the lawyer's with the cancelled mortgage in his pocket + and Tim hopping up and down on the seat for joy. But the next day Richards—just + to give him the chance of a good thing—had brought out that Maine + man who wanted to buy him out. He was anxious to put the money down for + the new farm, to have no whip-lash of debt forever whistling about his + ears as he ploughed, ready to sting did he stumble in the furrows; and Tim + was more anxious than he; but—there was Richards! Richards was a + neighbor who thought as he did about Henry George and Spiritualism, and + belonged to the Farmers' Alliance, and had lent Nelson all the works of + Henry George that he (Richards) could borrow. Richards was in deep + trouble. He had lost his wife; he might lose his farm. He appealed to + Nelson, for the sake of old friendship, to save him. And Nelson could not + resist; so, two thousand of the thirty-four hundred dollars that the Maine + man paid went to Richards, the latter swearing by all that is holy, to pay + his friend off in full at the end of the year. There was money coming to + him from his dead wife's estate, but it was tied up in the courts. Nelson + would not listen to Tim's prophecies of evil. But he was a little dashed + when Richards paid neither interest nor principal at the year's end, + although he gave reasons of weight; and he experienced veritable + consternation when the renewed mortgage ran its course and still Richards + could not pay. The money from his wife's estate had been used to improve + his farm (Nelson knew how rundown everything was), his new wife was sickly + and “didn't seem to take hold,” there had been a disastrous hail-storm—but + why rehearse the calamities? they focussed on one sentence: it was + impossible to pay. + </p> + <p> + Then Nelson, who had been restfully counting on the money from Richards + for his own debt, bestirred himself, only to find his patient creditor + gone and a woman in his stead who must have her money. He wrote again—sorely + against his will—begging Richards to raise the money somehow. + Richards's answer was in his pocket, for he wore the best black broadcloth + in which he had done honor to the lawyer, yesterday. Richards plainly was + wounded; but he explained in detail to Nelson how he (Nelson) could borrow + money of the banks on his farm and pay Miss Brown. There was no bank where + Richards could borrow money; and he begged Nelson not to drive his wife + and little children from their cherished home. Nelson choked over the + pathos when he read the letter to Tim; but Tim only grunted a wish that HE + had the handling of that feller. And the lawyer was as little moved as + Tim. Miss Brown needed the money, he said. The banks were not disposed to + lend just at present; money, it appeared, was “tight;” so, in the end, + Nelson drove home with the face of Failure staring at him between his + horses' ears. + </p> + <p> + There was only one way. Should he make Richards suffer or suffer himself? + Did a man have to grind other people or be ground himself? Meanwhile they + had reached the town. The stir of a festival was in the air. On every side + bunting streamed in the breeze or was draped across brick or wood. Arches + spanned some of the streets, with inscriptions of welcome on them, and + swarms of colored lanterns glittered against the sunlight almost as gayly + as they would show when they should be lighted at night. Little children + ran about waving flags. Grocery wagons and butchers' wagons trotted by + with a flash of flags dangling from the horses' harness. The streets were + filled with people in their holiday clothes. Everybody smiled. The + shopkeepers answered questions and went out on the sidewalks to direct + strangers. From one window hung a banner inviting visitors to enter and + get a list of hotels and boarding-houses. The crowd was entirely + good-humored and waited outside restaurants, bandying jokes with true + Western philosophy. At times the wagons made a temporary blockade in the + street, but no one grumbled. Bands of music paraded past them, the escort + for visitors of especial consideration. In a window belonging, the sign + above declared, to the Business Men's Association, stood a huge doll clad + in blue satin, on which was painted a device of Neptune sailing down the + Mississippi amid a storm of fireworks. The doll stood in a boat arched + about with lantern-decked hoops, and while Nelson halted, unable to + proceed, he could hear the voluble explanation of the proud citizen who + was interpreting to strangers. + </p> + <p> + This, Nelson thought, was success. Here were the successful men. The man + who had failed looked at them. Eve roused him by a shrill cry, “There they + are. There's May and the girls. Let me out quick, Uncle!” + </p> + <p> + He stopped the horse and jumped out himself to help her. It was the first + time since she came under his roof that she had been away from it all + night. He cleared his throat for some advice on behavior. “Mind and be + respectful to Mrs. Arlington. Say yes, ma'am, and no, ma'am——” + He got no further, for Eve gave him a hasty kiss and the crowd brushed her + away. + </p> + <p> + “All she thinks of is wearing fine clothes and going with the fellers!” + said her brother, disdainfully. “If I had to be born a girl, I wouldn't be + born at all!” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe if you despise girls so, you'll be born a girl the next time,” said + Nelson. “Some folks thinks that's how it happens with us.” + </p> + <p> + “Do YOU, Uncle?” asked Tim, running his mind forebodingly over the + possible business results of such a belief. “S'posing he shouldn't be + willing to sell the pigs to be killed, 'cause they might be some friends + of his!” he reflected, with a rising tide of consternation. Nelson smiled + rather sadly. He said, in another tone: “Tim, I've thought so many things, + that now I've about given up thinking. All I can do is to live along the + best way I know how and help the world move the best I'm able.” + </p> + <p> + “You bet <i>I</i> ain't going to help the world move,” said the boy; “I'm + going to look out for myself!” + </p> + <p> + “Then my training of you has turned out pretty badly, if that's the way + you feel.” + </p> + <p> + A little shiver passed over the lad's sullen face; he flushed until he + lost his freckles in the red veil and burst out passionately: “Well, I got + eyes, ain't I? I ain't going to be bad, or drink, or steal, or do things + to git put in the penitentiary; but I ain't going to let folks walk all + over me like you do; no, sir!” + </p> + <p> + Nelson did not answer; in his heart he thought that he had failed with the + children, too; and he relapsed into that dismal study of the face of + Failure. + </p> + <p> + He had come to the city to show Tim the sights, and, therefore, though + like a man in a dream, he drove conscientiously about the gay streets, + pointing out whatever he thought might interest the boy, and generally + discovering that Tim had the new information by heart already. All the + while a question pounded itself, like the beat of the heart of an engine, + through the noise and the talk: “Shall I give up Richards or be turned out + myself?” + </p> + <p> + When the afternoon sunlight waned he put up the horse at a modest little + stable where farmers were allowed to bring their own provender. The + charges were of the smallest and the place neat and weather-tight, but it + had been a long time before Nelson could be induced to use it, because + there was a higher-priced stable kept by an ex-farmer and member of the + Farmers' Alliance. Only the fact that the keeper of the low-priced stable + was a poor orphan girl, struggling to earn an honest livelihood, had moved + him. + </p> + <p> + They had supper at a restaurant of Tim's discovery, small, specklessly + tidy, and as unexacting of the pocket as the stable. It was an excellent + supper. But Nelson had no appetite; in spite of an almost childish + capacity for being diverted, he could attend to nothing but the question + always in his ears: “Richards or me—which?” + </p> + <p> + Until it should be time for the spectacle they walked down the hill, and + watched the crowds gradually blacken every inch of the river-banks. + Already the swarms of lanterns were beginning to bloom out in the dusk. + Strains of music throbbed through the air, adding a poignant touch to the + excitement vibrating in all the faces and voices about them. Even the + stolid Tim felt the contagion. He walked with a jaunty step and assaulted + a tune himself. “I tell you, Uncle,” says Tim, “it's nice of these folks + to be getting up all this show, and giving it for nothing!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think so?” says Nelson. “You don't love your book as I wish you + did; but I guess you remember about the ancient Romans, and how the great, + rich Romans used to spend enormous sums in games and shows that they let + the people in free to—well, what for? Was it to learn them anything + or to make them happy? Oh, no, it was to keep down the spirit of liberty, + Son, it was to make them content to be slaves! And so it is here. These + merchants and capitalists are only looking out for themselves, trying to + keep labor down and not let it know how oppressed it is, trying to get + people here from everywhere to show what a fine city they have and get + their money.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, 'TIS a fine town,” Tim burst in, “a boss town! And they ain't + gouging folks a little bit. None of the hotels or the restaurants have put + up their prices one cent. Look what a dandy supper we got for twenty-five + cents! And ain't the boy at Lumley's grocery given me two tickets to set + on the steamboat? There's nothing mean about this town!” + </p> + <p> + Nelson made no remark; but he thought, for the fiftieth time, that his + farm was too near the city. Tim was picking up all the city boys' false + pride as well as their slang. Unconscious Tim resumed his tune. He knew + that it was “Annie Rooney” if no one else did, and he mangled the notes + with appropriate exhilaration. + </p> + <p> + Now, the river was as busy as the land, lights swimming hither and + thither; steamboats with ropes of tiny stars bespangling their dark bulk + and a white electric glare in the bow, low boats with lights that sent + wavering spear-heads into the shadow beneath. The bridge was a blazing + barbed fence of fire, and beyond the bridge, at the point of the island, + lay a glittering multitude of lights, a fairy fleet with miniature sails + outlined in flame as if by jewels. + </p> + <p> + Nelson followed Tim. The crowds, the ceaseless clatter of tongues and jar + of wheels, depressed the man, who hardly knew which way to dodge the + multitudinous perils of the thoroughfare; but Tim used his elbows to such + good purpose that they were out of the levee, on the steamboat, and + settling themselves in two comfortable chairs in a coign of vantage on + deck, that commanded the best obtainable view of the pageant, before + Nelson had gathered his wits together enough to plan a path out of the + crush. + </p> + <p> + “I sized up this place from the shore,” Tim sighed complacently, drawing a + long breath of relief; “only jest two chairs, so we won't be crowded.” + </p> + <p> + Obediently, Nelson took his chair. His head sank on his thin chest. + Richards or himself, which should he sacrifice? So the weary old question + droned through his brain. He felt a tap on his shoulder. The man who + roused him was an acquaintance, and he stood smiling in the attitude of a + man about to ask a favor, while the expectant half-smile of the lady on + his arm hinted at the nature of the favor. Would Mr. Forrest be so kind?—there + seemed to be no more seats. Before Mr. Forrest could be kind Tim had + yielded his own chair and was off, wriggling among the crowd in search of + another place. + </p> + <p> + “Smart boy, that youngster of yours,” said the man; “he'll make his way in + the world, he can push. Well, Miss Alma, let me make you acquainted with + Mr. Forrest. I know you will be well entertained by him. So, if you'll + excuse me, I'll get back and help my wife wrestle with the kids. They have + been trying to see which will fall overboard first ever since we came on + deck!” + </p> + <p> + Under the leeway of this pleasantry he bowed and retired. Nelson turned + with determined politeness to the lady. He was sorry that she had come, + she looking to him a very fine lady indeed, with her black silk gown, her + shining black ornaments, and her bright black eyes. She was not young, but + handsome in Nelson's judgment, although of a haughty bearing. “Maybe she + is the principal of the High School,” thought he. “Martin has her for a + boarder, and he said she was very particular about her melons being cold!” + </p> + <p> + But however formidable a personage, the lady must be entertained. + </p> + <p> + “I expect you are a resident of the city, ma'am?” said Nelson. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I was born here.” She smiled, a smile that revealed a little break + in the curve of her cheek, not exactly a dimple, but like one. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know when I have seen such a fine appearing lady,” thought + Nelson. He responded: “Well, I wasn't born here; but I come when I was a + little shaver of ten and stayed till I was eighteen, when I went to Kansas + to help fight the border ruffians. I went to school here in the Warren + Street school-house.” + </p> + <p> + “So did I, as long as I went anywhere to school. I had to go to work when + I was twelve.” + </p> + <p> + Nelson's amazement took shape before his courtesy had a chance to control + it. “I didn't suppose you ever did any work in your life!” cried he. + </p> + <p> + “I guess I haven't done much else. Father died when I was twelve and the + oldest of five, the next only eight—Polly, that came between Eb and + me, died—naturally I had to work. I was a nurse-girl by the day, + first; and I never shall forget how kind the woman was to me. She gave me + so much dinner I never needed to eat any breakfast, which was a help.” + </p> + <p> + “You poor little thing! I'm afraid you went hungry sometimes.” Immediately + he marvelled at his familiar speech, but she did not seem to resent it. + </p> + <p> + “No, not so often,” she said, musingly; “but I used often and often to + wish I could carry some of the nice things home to mother and the babies. + After a while she would give me a cookey or a piece of bread and butter + for lunch; that I could take home. I don't suppose I'll often have more + pleasure than I used to have then, seeing little Eb waiting for sister; + and the baby and mother——” She stopped abruptly, to continue, + in an instant, with a kind of laugh; “I am never likely to feel so + important again as I did then, either. It was great to have mother + consulting me, as if I had been grown up. I felt like I had the weight of + the nation on my shoulders, I assure you.” + </p> + <p> + “And have you always worked since? You are not working out now?” with a + glance at her shining gown. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, not for a long time. I learned to be a cook. I was a good cook, + too, if I say it myself. I worked for the Lossings for four years. I am + not a bit ashamed of being a hired girl, for I was as good a one as I knew + how. It was Mrs. Lossing that first lent me books; and Harry Lossing, who + is head of the firm now, got Ebenezer into the works. Ebenezer is + shipping-clerk with a good salary and stock in the concern; and Ralph is + there, learning the trade. I went to the business-college and learned + book-keeping, and afterward I learned typewriting and shorthand. I have + been working for the firm for fourteen years. We have educated the girls. + Milly is married, and Kitty goes to the boarding-school, here.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you haven't been married yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “What time did I have to think of being married? I had the family on my + mind, and looking after them.” + </p> + <p> + “That was more fortunate for your family than it was for my sex,” said + Nelson, gallantly. He accompanied the compliment by a glance of + admiration, extinguished in an eye-flash, for the white radiance that had + bathed the deck suddenly vanished. + </p> + <p> + “Now you will see a lovely sight,” said the woman, deigning no reply to + his tribute; “listen! That is the signal.” + </p> + <p> + The air was shaken with the boom of cannon. Once, twice, thrice. Directly + the boat-whistles took up the roar, making a hideous din. The fleet had + moved. Spouting rockets and Roman candles, which painted above it a + kaleidoscopic archway of fire, welcomed by answering javelins of light and + red and orange and blue and green flares from the shore; the fleet + bombarded the bridge, escorted Neptune in his car, manoeuvred and massed + and charged on the blazing city with a many-hued shower of flame. + </p> + <p> + After the boats, silently, softly, floated the battalions of lanterns, so + close to the water that they seemed flaming water-lilies, while the dusky + mirror repeated and inverted their splendor. + </p> + <p> + “They're shingles, you know,” explained Nelson's companion, “with lanterns + on them; but aren't they pretty?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, they are! I wish you had not told me. It is like a fairy story!” + </p> + <p> + “Ain't it? But we aren't through; there's more to come. Beautiful + fireworks!” + </p> + <p> + The fireworks, however, were slow of coming. They could see the barge from + which they were to be sent; they could watch the movements of the men in + white oil-cloth who moved in a ghostly fashion about the barge; they could + hear the tap of hammers; but nothing came of it all. + </p> + <p> + They sat in the darkness, waiting; and there came to Nelson a strange + sensation of being alone and apart from all the breathing world with this + woman. He did not perceive that Tim had quietly returned with a box which + did very well for a seat, and was sitting with his knees against the + chair-rungs. He seemed to be somehow outside of all the tumult and the + spectacle. It was the vainglorying triumph of this world. He was the soul + outside, the soul that had missed its triumph. In his perplexity and + loneliness he felt an overwhelming longing for sympathy; neither did it + strike Nelson, who believed in all sorts of occult influences, that his + confidence in a stranger was unwarranted. He would have told you that his + “psychic instincts” never played him false, although really they were + traitors from their astral cradles to their astral graves. + </p> + <p> + He said in a hesitating way: “You must excuse me being kinder dull; I've + got some serious business on my mind and I can't help thinking of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that so? Well, I know how that is; I have often stayed awake nights + worrying about things. Lest I shouldn't suit and all that—especially + after mother took sick.” + </p> + <p> + “I s'pose you had to give up and nurse her then?” + </p> + <p> + “That was what Ebenezer and Ralph were for having me do; but mother—my + mother always had so much sense—mother says, 'No, Alma, you've got a + good place and a chance in life, you sha'n't give it up. We'll hire a + girl. I ain't never lonesome except evenings, and then you will be home. I + should jest want to die,' she says, 'if I thought I kept you in a kind of + prison like by my being sick—now, just when you are getting on so + well.' There never WAS a woman like my mother!” Her voice shook a little, + and Nelson asked gently: + </p> + <p> + “Ain't your mother living now?” + </p> + <p> + “No, she died last year.” She added, after a little silence, “I somehow + can't get used to being lonesome.” + </p> + <p> + “It IS hard,” said Nelson. “I lost my wife three years ago.” + </p> + <p> + “That's hard, too.” + </p> + <p> + “My goodness! I guess it is. And it's hardest when trouble comes on a man + and he can't go nowhere for advice.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that's so, too. But—have you any children?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma'am; that is, they ain't my own children. Lizzie and I never had + any; but these two we took and they are most like my own. The girl is + eighteen and the boy rising of fourteen.” + </p> + <p> + “They must be a comfort to you; but they are considerable of a + responsibility, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma'am,” he sighed softly to himself. “Sometimes I feel I haven't + done the right way by them, though I've tried. Not that they ain't good + children, for they are—no better anywhere. Tim, he will work from + morning till night, and never need to urge him; and he never gives me a + promise he don't keep it, no ma'am, never did since he was a little mite + of a lad. And he is a kind boy, too, always good to the beasts; and while + he may speak up a little short to his sister, he saves her many a step. He + doesn't take to his studies quite as I would like to have him, but he has + a wonderful head for business. There is splendid stuff in Tim if it could + only be worked right.” + </p> + <p> + While Nelson spoke, Tim was hunching his shoulders forward in the + darkness, listening with the whole of two sharp ears. His face worked in + spite of him, and he gave an inarticulate snort. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” the woman said, “I think that speaks well for Tim. Why should you + be worried about him?” + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid he is getting to love money and worldly success too well, and + that is what I fear for the girl, too. You see, she is so pretty, and the + idols of the tribe and the market, as Bacon calls them, are strong with + the young.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that's so,” the woman assented vaguely, not at all sure what either + Bacon or his idols might be. “Are the children relations of yours?” + </p> + <p> + “No, ma'am; it was like this: When I was up in Henry County there came a + photographic artist to the village near us, and pitched his tent and took + tintypes in his wagon. He had his wife and his two children with him. The + poor woman fell ill and died; so we took the two children. My wife was + willing; she was a wonderfully good woman, member of the Methodist church + till she died. I—I am not a church member myself, ma'am; I passed + through that stage of spiritual development a long while ago.” He gave a + wistful glance at his companion's dimly outlined profile. “But I never + tried to disturb her faith; it made HER happy.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't think it is any good fooling with other people's religions,” + said the woman, easily. “It is just like trying to talk folks out of + drinking; nobody knows what is right for anybody else's soul any more than + they do what is good for anybody else's stomach!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma'am. You put things very clearly.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess it is because you understand so quickly. But you were saying———” + </p> + <p> + “That's all the story. We took the children, and their father was killed + by the cars the next year, poor man; and so we have done the best we could + ever since by them.” + </p> + <p> + “I should say you had done very well by them.” + </p> + <p> + “No, ma'am; I haven't done very well somehow by anyone, myself included, + though God knows I've tried hard enough!” + </p> + <p> + Then followed the silence natural after such a confession when the + listener does not know the speaker well enough to parry abasement by + denial. + </p> + <p> + “I am impressed,” said Nelson, simply, “to talk with you frankly. It isn't + polite to bother strangers with your troubles, but I am impressed that you + won't mind.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, I won't mind.” + </p> + <p> + It was not extravagant sympathy; but Nelson thought how kind her voice + sounded, and what a musical voice it was. Most people would have called it + rather sharp. + </p> + <p> + He told her—with surprisingly little egotism, as the keen listener + noted—the story of his life; the struggle of his boyhood; his random + self-education; his years in the army (he had criticised his superior + officers, thereby losing the promotion that was coming for bravery in the + field); his marriage (apparently he had married his wife because another + man had jilted her); his wrestle with nature (whose pranks included a + cyclone) on a frontier farm that he eventually lost, having put all his + savings into a “Greenback” newspaper, and being thus swamped with debt; + his final slow success in paying for his Iowa farm; and his purchase of + the new farm, with its resulting disaster. “I've farmed in Kansas,” he + said, “in Nebraska, in Dakota, in Iowa. I was willing to go wherever the + land promised. It always seemed like I was going to succeed, but somehow I + never did. The world ain't fixed right for the workers, I take it. A man + who has spent thirty years in hard, honest toil oughtn't to be staring + ruin in the face like I am to-day. They won't let it be so when we have + the single tax and when we farmers send our own men instead of city + lawyers, to the Legislature and halls of Congress. Sometimes I think it's + the world that's wrong and sometimes I think it's me!” + </p> + <p> + The reply came in crisp and assured accents, which were the strongest + contrast to Nelson's soft, undecided pipe: “Seems to me in this last case + the one most to blame is neither you nor the world at large, but this man + Richards, who is asking YOU to pay for HIS farm. And I notice you don't + seem to consider your creditor in this business. How do you know she don't + need the money? Look at me, for instance; I'm in some financial difficulty + myself. I have a mortgage for two thousand dollars, and that mortgage—for + which good value was given, mind you—falls due this month. I want + the money. I want it bad. I have a chance to put my money into stock at + the factory. I know all about the investment; I haven't worked there all + these years and not know how the business stands. It is a chance to make a + fortune. I ain't likely to ever have another like it; and it won't wait + for me to make up my mind forever, either. Isn't it hard on me, too?” + </p> + <p> + “Lord knows it is, ma'am,” said Nelson, despondently; “it is hard on us + all! Sometimes I don't see the end of it all. A vast social revolution——” + </p> + <p> + “Social fiddlesticks! I beg your pardon, Mr. Forrest, but it puts me out + of patience to have people expecting to be allowed to make every mortal + kind of fools of themselves and then have 'a social revolution' jump in to + slue off the consequences. Let us understand each other. Who do you + suppose I am?” + </p> + <p> + “Miss—Miss Almer, ain't it?” + </p> + <p> + “It's Alma Brown, Mr. Forrest. I saw you coming on the boat and I made Mr. + Martin fetch me over to you. I told him not to say my name, because I + wanted a good plain talk with you. Well, I've had it. Things are just + about where I thought they were, and I told Mr. Lossing so. But I couldn't + be sure. You must have thought me a funny kind of woman to be telling you + all those things about myself.” + </p> + <p> + Nelson, who had changed color half a dozen times in the darkness, sighed + before he said: “No, ma'am; I only thought how good you were to tell me. I + hoped maybe you were impressed to trust me as I was to trust you.” + </p> + <p> + Being so dark Nelson could not see the queer expression on her face as she + slowly shook her head. She was thinking: “If I ever saw a babe in arms + trying to do business! How did HE ever pay for a farm?” She said: “Well, I + did it on purpose; I wanted you to know I wasn't a cruel aristocrat, but a + woman that had worked as hard as yourself. Now, why shouldn't you help me + and yourself instead of helping Richards? You have confidence in me, you + say. Well, show it. I'll give you your mortgage for your mortgage on + Richards's farm. Come, can't you trust Richards to me? You think it over.” + </p> + <p> + The hiss of a rocket hurled her words into space. The fireworks had begun. + Miss Brown looked at them and watched Nelson at the same time. As a good + business woman who was also a good citizen, having subscribed five dollars + to the carnival, she did not propose to lose the worth of her money; + neither did she intend to lose a chance to do business. Perhaps there was + an obscurer and more complex motive lurking in some stray corner of that + queer garret, a woman's mind. Such motives—aimless softenings of the + heart, unprofitable diversions of the fancy—will seep unconsciously + through the toughest business principles of woman. + </p> + <p> + She was puzzled by the look of exaltation on Nelson's features, illumined + as they were by the uncanny light. If the fool man had not forgotten all + his troubles just to see a few fireworks! No, he was not that kind of a + fool; maybe—and she almost laughed aloud in her pleasure over her + own insight—maybe it all made him think of the war, where he had + been so brave. “He was a regular hero in the war,” Miss Brown concluded, + “and he certainly is a perfect gentleman; what a pity he hasn't got any + sense!” + </p> + <p> + She had guessed aright, although she had not guessed deep enough in regard + to Nelson. He watched the great wheels of light, he watched the river + aflame with Greek fire, then, with a shiver, he watched the bombs bursting + into myriads of flowers, into fizzing snakes, into fields of burning gold, + into showers of jewels that made the night splendid for a second and + faded. They were not fireworks to him; they were a magical phantasmagoria + that renewed the incoherent and violent emotions of his youth; again he + was in the chaos of the battle, or he was dreaming by his camp-fire, or he + was pacing his lonely round on guard. His heart leaped again with the old + glow, the wonderful, beautiful worship of Liberty that can do no wrong. He + seemed to hear a thousand voices chanting: + </p> + <p> + “In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, As He died to + make men holy, let us die to make men free!” + </p> + <p> + His turbid musings cleared—or they seemed to him to clear—under + the strong reaction of his imagination and his memories. It was all over, + the dream and the glory thereof. The splendid young soldier was an + elderly, ruined man. But one thing was left: he could be true to his flag. + </p> + <p> + “A poor soldier, but enlisted for the war,” says Nelson, squaring his + shoulders, with a lump in his throat and his eyes brimming. “I know by the + way it hurts me to think of refusing her that it's a temptation to + wrong-doing. No, I can't save myself by sacrificing a brother soldier for + humanity. She is just as kind as she can be, but women don't understand + business; she wouldn't make allowance for Richards.” + </p> + <p> + He felt a hand on his shoulder; it was Martin apologizing for hurrying + Miss Brown; but the baby was fretting and—— + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry—yes—well, I wish you didn't have to go!” Nelson + began; but a hoarse treble rose from under his elbows: “Say, Mr. Martin, + Uncle and me can take Miss Brown home.” + </p> + <p> + “If you will allow me the pleasure,” said Nelson, with the touch of + courtliness that showed through his homespun ways. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I WOULD like to see the hundred bombs bursting at once and Vulcan + at his forge!” said Miss Brown. + </p> + <p> + Thus the matter arranged itself. Tim waited with the lady while Nelson + went for the horse, nor was it until afterward that Miss Brown wondered + why the lad did not go instead of the man. But Tim had his own reasons. No + sooner was Nelson out of earshot than he began: “Say, Miss Brown, I can + tell you something.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” + </p> + <p> + “That Richards is no good; but you can't get Uncle to see it. At least it + will take time. If you'll help me we can get him round in time. Won't you + please not sell us out for six months and give me a show? I'll see you get + your interest and your money, too.” + </p> + <p> + “You?” Miss Brown involuntarily took a business attitude, with her arms + akimbo, and eyed the boy. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma'am, me. I ain't so very old, but I know all about the business. I + got all the figures down—how much we raise and what we got last + year. I can fetch them to you so you can see. He is a good farmer, and he + will catch on to the melons pretty quick. We'll do better next year, and + I'll try to keep him from belonging to things and spending money; and if + he won't lend to anybody or start in raising a new kind of crop just when + we get the melons going, he will make money sure. He is awful good and + honest. All the trouble with him is he needs somebody to take care of him. + If Aunt Lizzie had been alive he never would have lent that dead-beat + Richards that money. He ought to get married.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Brown did not feel called on to say anything. Tim continued in a + judicial way: “He is awful good and kind, always gets up in the morning to + make the fire if I have got something else to do; and he'd think + everything his wife did was the best in the world; and if he had somebody + to take care of him he'd make money. I don't suppose YOU would think of + it?” This last in an insinuating tone, with evident anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I never!” said Miss Brown. + </p> + <p> + Whether she was more offended or amused she couldn't tell; and she stood + staring at him by the electric light. To her amazement the hard little + face began to twitch. “I didn't mean to mad you,” Tim grunted, with a + quiver in his rough voice. “I've been listening to every word you said, + and I thought you were so sensible you'd talk over things without + nonsense. Of course I knew he'd have to come and see you Saturday nights, + and take you buggy riding, and take you to the theatre, and all such + things—first. But I thought we could sorter fix it up between + ourselves. I've taken care of him ever since Aunt Lizzie died, and I did + my best he shouldn't lend that money, but I couldn't help it; and I did + keep him from marrying a widow woman with eight children, who kept telling + him how much her poor fatherless children needed a man; and I never did + see anybody I was willing—before—and it's—it's so + lonesome without Aunt Lizzie!” He choked and frowned. Poor Tim, who had + sold so many melons to women and seen so much of back doors and kitchen + humors that he held the sex very cheap, he did not realize how hard he + would find it to talk of the one woman who had been kind to him! He turned + red with shame over his own weakness. + </p> + <p> + “You poor little chap!” cried Miss Brown; “you poor little sharp, innocent + chap!” The hand she laid on his shoulder patted it as she went on: “Never + mind, if I can't marry your uncle, I can help you take care of him. You're + a real nice boy, and I'm not mad; don't you think it. There's your uncle + now.” + </p> + <p> + Nelson found her so gentle that he began to have qualms lest his carefully + prepared speech should hurt her feelings. But there was no help for it + now. “I have thought over your kind offer to me, ma'am,” said he, humbly, + “and I got a proposition to make to you. It is your honest due to have + your farm, yes, ma'am. Well, I know a man would like to buy it; I'll sell + it to him, and pay you your money.” + </p> + <p> + “But that wasn't my proposal.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it, ma'am. I honor you for your kindness; but I can't risk what—what + might be another person's idea of duty about Richards. Our consciences + ain't all equally enlightened, you know.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Brown did not answer a word. + </p> + <p> + They drove along the streets where the lanterns were fading. Tim grew + uneasy, she was silent so long. On the brow of the hill she indicated a + side street and told them to stop the horse before a little brown house. + One of the windows was a dim square of red. + </p> + <p> + “It isn't quite so lonesome coming home to a light,” said Miss Brown. + </p> + <p> + As Nelson cramped the wheel to jump out to help her from the vehicle, the + light from the electric arc fell full on his handsome face and showed her + the look of compassion and admiration, there. + </p> + <p> + “Wait one moment,” she said, detaining him with one firm hand. “I've got + something to say to you. Let Richards go for the present; all I ask of you + about him is that you will do nothing until we can find out if he is so + bad off. But, Mr. Forrest, I can do better for you about that mortgage. + Mr. Lossing will take it for three years for a relative of his and pay me + the money. I told him the story.” + </p> + <p> + “And YOU will get the money all right?” + </p> + <p> + “Just the same. I was only trying to help you a little by the other way, + and I failed. Never mind.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't tell you how you make me feel,” said Nelson. + </p> + <p> + “Please let him bring you some melons to-morrow and make a stagger at it, + though,” said Tim. + </p> + <p> + “Can I?” Nelson's eyes shone. + </p> + <p> + “If you want to,” said Miss Brown. She laughed; but in a moment she + smiled. + </p> + <p> + All the way home Nelson saw the same face of Failure between the old + mare's white ears; but its grim lineaments were softened by a smile, a + smile like Miss Brown's. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + TOMMY AND THOMAS + </h2> + <p> + IT was while Harry Lossing was at the High School that Mrs. Carriswood + first saw Tommy Fitzmaurice. He was not much to see, a long lad of sixteen + who had outgrown his jackets and was not yet grown to his ears. + </p> + <p> + At this period Mrs. Fitzmaurice was his barber, and she, having been too + rash with the shears in one place, had snipped off the rest of his curly + black locks “to match;” until he showed a perfect convict's poll, giving + his ears all the better chance, and bringing out the rather square contour + of his jaws to advantage. He had the true Irish-Norman face; a skin of + fine texture, fair and freckled, high cheekbones, straight nose, and wide + blue eyes that looked to be drawn with ink, because of their sharply + pencilled brows and long, thick, black lashes. But the feature that Mrs. + Carriswood noticed was Tommy's mouth, a flexible and delicately cut mouth, + of which the lips moved lightly in speaking and seldom were quite in + repose. + </p> + <p> + “The genuine Irish orator's mouth,” thought Mrs. Carriswood. + </p> + <p> + Tommy, however, was not a finished orator, and Mrs. Carriswood herself + deigned to help him with his graduating oration; Tommy delivering the + aforesaid oration from memory, on the stage of the Grand Opera House, to a + warm-hearted and perspiring audience of his towns-people, amid tremendous + applause and not the slightest prod-dings of conscience. + </p> + <p> + Really the speech deserved the applause; Mrs. Carriswood, who had heard + half the eloquence of the world, spent three evenings on it; and she has a + good memory. + </p> + <p> + Her part in the affair always amused her; though, in fact, it came to pass + easily. She had the great fortune of the family. Being a widow with no + children, and the time not being come when philanthropy beckons on the + right hand and on the left to free-handed women, Mrs. Carriswood + travelled. As she expressed it, she was searching the globe for a perfect + climate. “Not that I in the least expect to find it,” said she, + cheerfully, “but I like to vary my disappointments; when I get worn out + being frozen, winters, I go somewhere to be soaked.” She was on her way to + California this time, with her English maid, who gave the Lossing + domestics many a jolly moment by her inextinguishable panic about red + Indians. Mrs. Derry supposed these savages to be lurking on the prairie + outside every Western town; and almost fainted when she did chance to turn + the corner upon three Kickapoo Indians, splendid in paint and feathers, + and peacefully vending the “Famous Kickapoo Sagwa.” She had others of the + artless notions of the travelling English, and I fear that they were + encouraged not only by the cook, the “second girl,” and the + man-of-all-work, but by Harry and his chum, Tommy; I know she used to tell + how she saw tame buffalo “roosting” on the streets, “w'ich they do look + that like common cows a body couldn't tell 'em hapart!” + </p> + <p> + She had a great opinion of Tommy, a mystery to her mistress for a long + time, until one day it leaked out that Tommy “and Master Harry, too,” had + told her that Tommy's great-grandfather was a lord in the old country. + </p> + <p> + “The family seem to have sunk in the world since, Derry,” was Mrs. + Carriswood's single remark, as she smiled to herself. After Derry was + dismissed she picked up a letter, written that day to a friend of hers, + and read some passages about Harry and Tommy, smiling again. + </p> + <p> + “Harry”—one may look over her pretty shoulder without impertinence, + in a story—“Harry,” she wrote, “is a boy that I long to steal. Just + the kind of boy we have both wanted, Sarah—frank, happy, + affectionate. I must tell you something about him. It came out by + accident. He has the Western business instincts, and what do you suppose + he did? He actually started a wee shop of his own in the corner of the + yard (really it is a surprisingly pretty place, and they are quite + civilized in the house, gas, hot water, steam heat, all most comfortable), + and sold 'pop' and candy and cakes to the boys. He made so much money that + he proposed a partnership to the cook and the setting up a little booth in + the 'county fair,' which is like our rural cattle shows, you know. The + cook (a superior person who borrows books from Mrs. Lossing, but seems + very decent and respectful notwithstanding, and broils game to perfection. + And SUCH game as we have here, Sarah!)—well, the cook made him + cream-cakes, sandwiches, tarts, and candy, and Harry honorably bought all + the provisions with his profits from the first venture. You will open your + eyes at his father permitting such a thing, but Henry Lossing is a + thorough Westerner in some ways, and he looks on it all as a joke. 'Might + show the boy how to do business,' he says. + </p> + <p> + “Well, they had a ravishing display, so Alma, the cook, and William, the + man, assured me—per Derry. All the sadder its fate; for alas! a gang + of rowdy boys fell upon Harry, and while he was busy fighting half of them—he + is as plucky as his uncle, the general—the other half looted the + beautiful stock in trade! They would have despoiled our poor little + merchant entirely but for the opportune arrival of a schoolmate who is + mightily respected by the rowdies. He knocked one of them down and shouted + after the others that he would give every one of them a good thrashing if + they did not bring the plunder back; and as he is known to be a lad of his + word for good or evil, actually the scamps did return most of the booty, + which the two boys brushed off and sold, as far as it went (!) The + consequence of the fray has been that Harry is unboundedly grateful to + this Tommy Fitzmaurice, and is at present coaching him on his graduating + oration. Fitzmaurice has studied hard and won honors, and wants to make a + show with his oration, to please his father. 'You see,' says Harry, + 'Tommy's father has saved money and is spending it all on Tommy, so's he + can be educated. He needs Tommy in the business real bad, but he won't let + him come in; he keeps him at school, and he thinks everything of his + getting the valedictory, and Tommy, he worked nights studying to get it.' + When I asked what was the father's business, Harry grew a bit confused. + 'Well, he kept a saloon; but'—Harry hastened to explain—'it + was a very nice saloon, never any trouble with the police there; why, + Tommy knew every man on the force. And they keep good liquors, too,' said + Harry, earnestly; 'throw away all the beer left in the glasses.' 'What + else would they do with it?' asked innocent I. 'Why, keep it in a bucket,' + said Harry, solemnly, 'and then slip the glass under the counter and half + fill out of the bucket, then hold it under the keg LOW, so's the foam will + come; that's a trick of the trade, you know. Tommy says his father would + SCORN that!' There is a vista opened, isn't there? I was rather shocked at + such associates for Harry, and told his mother. Did she think it a good + idea to have such a boy coming to the house? a saloon-keeper's son? She + did not laugh, as I half expected, but answered quite seriously that she + had been looking up Tommy, that he was very much attached to Harry, and + that she did not think he would teach him anything bad. He has, I find + myself, notions of honor, though they are rather the code of the street. + And he picks up things quickly. Once he came to tea. It was amusing to see + how he glued his eyes on Harry and kept time with his motions. He used his + fork quite properly, only as Harry is a left-handed little fellow, the + right-handed Thomas had the more difficulty. + </p> + <p> + “He is taking such vast pains with his 'oration' that I felt moved to help + him. The subject is 'The Triumph of Democracy,' and Tommy civilly + explained that 'democracy' did not mean the Democratic party, but 'just + only a government where all the poor folks can get their rights and can + vote.' + </p> + <p> + “The oration was the kind of spread-eagle thing you might expect; I can + see that Tommy has formed himself on the orators of his father's + respectable saloon. What he said in comment interested me more. 'Sure, I + guess it is the best government, ma'am, though, of course, I got to make + it out that way, anyhow. But we come from Ireland, and there they got the + other kind, and me granny, she starved in the famine time, she did that—with + the fever. Me father walked twenty mile to the Sackville's place, where + they gave him some meal, though he wasn't one of their tenants; yes, and + the lady told him how he would be cooking it. I never will forget that + lady!' + </p> + <p> + “I saw a dramatic opportunity: would Tommy be willing to tell that story + in his speech? He looked at me with an odd look—or so I imagined it! + 'Why not?' says he; 'I'd as soon as not tell it to anyone of them, and why + not to them all together?' Well, why not, when you come to think of it? So + we have got it into the speech; and I, I myself, Sarah, am drilling young + Demos-thenes, and he is so apt a scholar that I find myself rather + pleasantly employed.” Having read her letter, Mrs. Carriswood hesitated a + second and then added Derry's information at the bottom of the page. “I + suppose the lordly ancestor was one of King James's creation—see + Macaulay, somewhere in the second volume. I dare say there is a drop or + two of good blood in the boy. He has the manners of a gentleman—but + I don't know that I ever saw an Irishman, no matter how low in the social + scale, who hadn't.” + </p> + <p> + Thus it happened that Tommy's valedictory scored a success that is a + tradition of the High School, and came to be printed in both the city + papers; copies of which journals Tommy's mother has preserved sacredly to + this day; and I have no doubt, could one find them, they would be found + wrapped around a yellow photograph of the “A Class” of 1870: eight pretty + girls in white, smiling among five solemn boys in black, and Tommy + himself, as the valedictorian, occupying the centre of the picture in his + new suit of broadcloth, with a rose in his buttonhole and his hair cut by + a professional barber for the occasion. + </p> + <p> + It was the story of the famine that really captured the audience; and + Tommy told it well, with the true Irish fire, in a beautiful voice. + </p> + <p> + In the front seat of the parquette a little old man in a wrinkled black + broadcloth, with a bald head and a fringe of whisker under his long chin, + and a meek little woman, in a red Paisley shawl, wept and laughed by + turns. They had taken the deepest interest in every essay and every + speech. The old man clapped his large hands (which were encased in loose, + black kid gloves) with unflagging vigor. He wore a pair of heavy boots, + the soles of which made a noble thud on the floor. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't it wonderful the like of them young craters can talk like that!” he + cried; “shure, Molly, that young lady who'd the essay—where is it?”—a + huge black forefinger travelled down the page—“'<i>Music, The + Turkish Patrol</i>,' No—though that's grand, that piece; I'll be + spakin' wid Professor Von Keinmitz to bring it when we've the opening. + Here 'tis, Molly: '<i>Tin, Essay. The Darkest Night Brings Out the Stars, + Miss Mamie Odenheimer</i>.' Thrue for you, mavourneen! And the sintiments, + wasn't they illigant? and the lan-gwidge was as foine as Pat Ronan's + speeches or Father—whist! will ye look at the flowers that shlip of + a gyirl's gitting! Count 'em, will ye?” + </p> + <p> + “Fourteen bouquets and wan basket,” says the little woman, “and Mamie + Odenheimer, she got seventeen bouquets and two baskets and a sign. Well,” + she looked anxious, but smiled, “I know of siven bouquets Tommy will git + for sure. And that's not countin' what Harry Lossing will do for him. + Hiven bless the good heart of him!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I kin count four for him on wan seat,” says the man, with a nod of + his head toward the gay heap in the woman's lap, “barrin' I ain't + on-vaygled into flinging some of thim to the young ladies!” + </p> + <p> + Harry Lossing, in the seat behind with his mother and Mrs. Carriswood, + giggled at this and whispered in the latter lady's ear, “That's Tommy's + father and mother. My, aren't they excited, though! And Tommy's white's a + sheet—for fear he'll disappoint them, you know. He has said his + piece over twice to me, to-day, he's so scared lest he'll forget. I've got + it in my pocket, and I'm going behind when it's his turn, to prompt him. + Did you see me winking at him? it sort of cheers him up.” + </p> + <p> + He was almost as keen over the floral procession as the Fitzmaurices + themselves. The Lossing garden had been stripped to the last bud, and + levies made on the asparagus-bed, into the bargain, and Mrs. Lossing and + Alma and Mrs. Carriswood and Derry and Susy Lossing had made bouquets and + baskets and wreaths, and Harry had distributed them among friends in + different parts of the house. I say Harry, but, complimented by Mrs. + Carriswood, he admitted ingenuously that it was Tommy's idea. + </p> + <p> + “Tommy thought they would make more show that way,” says Harry, “and they + are all on the middle aisle, so his father and mother can see them; Tim + O'Halloran has got one for him, too, and Mrs. Macillarney, and she's got + some splendid pinies. Picked every last one. They'll make a show!” + </p> + <p> + But Harry knew nothing of the most magnificent of his friend's trophies + until it undulated gloriously down the aisle, above the heads of two men, + white satin ribbons flying, tinfoil shining—an enormous horseshoe of + roses and mignonette! + </p> + <p> + The parents were both on their feet to crane their necks after it, as it + passed them amid the plaudits. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, it was YOU, Cousin Margaret; I know it was you,” cried Harry. + </p> + <p> + He took the ladies over to the Fitzmaurices the minute that the diplomas + were given; and, directly, Tommy joined them, attended by two admiring + followers laden with the trophies. Mrs. O'Halloran and Mrs. Macillarney + and divers of the friends, both male and female, joined the circle. Tommy + held quite a little court. He shook hands with all the ladies, beginning + with Mrs. Carriswood (who certainly never had found herself before in such + a company, jammed between Alderman McGinnis's resplendent new tweeds and + Mrs. Macillarney's calico); he affectionately embraced his mother, and he + allowed himself to be embraced by Mrs. Macillarney and Mrs. O'Halloran, + while Patrick Fitzmaurice shook hands with the alderman. + </p> + <p> + “Here's the lady that helped me on me piece, father; she's the lady that + sent me the horseshoe, mother. Like to make you acquainted with me father + and me mother. Mr. and Mrs. Fitzmaurice, Mrs. Carriswood.” + </p> + <p> + In these words, Tommy, blushing and happy, presented his happy parents. + </p> + <p> + “Sure, I'm proud to meet you, ma'am,” said Fitzmaurice, bowing, while his + wife courtesied and wiped her eyes. + </p> + <p> + They were very grateful, but they were more grateful for the flowers than + for the oratorical drilling. No doubt they thought that their Tommy could + have done as well in any case; but the splendid horseshoe was another + matter! + </p> + <p> + Ten years passed before Mrs. Carriswood saw her pupil again. During those + years the town had increased and prospered; so had the Lossing Art + Furniture Works. It was after Harry Lossing had disappointed his father. + This is not saying that he had done anything out of the way; he had simply + declined to be the fourth Harry Lossing on the rolls of Harvard College. + Instead, he proposed to enter the business and to begin by learning his + own trade. He was so industrious, he kept at it with such energy that his + first convert was his father—no, I am wrong, Mrs. Carriswood was the + first; Mrs. Lossing was not a convert, SHE had believed in Harry from the + beginning. But all this was years before Mrs. Carriswood's visit. + </p> + <p> + Another of Master Harry's notions was his belief in the necessity of his + “meddling”—so his father put it—in the affairs of the town, + the state, and the nation, as well as those of the Lossing furniture + company. But, though he was pleased to make rather cynical fun of his + son's political enthusiasm, esteeming it in a sense a diverting and + therefore reprehensible pursuit for a business man, the elder Lossing had + a sneaking pride in it, all the same. He liked to bring out Harry's + political shrewdness. + </p> + <p> + “Fancy, Margaret,” says he, “whom do you think Harry has brought over to + our side now? The shrewdest ward politician in the town—why, you saw + him when he was a boy—Tommy Fitzmaurice.” + </p> + <p> + Then Mrs. Carriswood remembered; she asked, amused, how was Tommy and + where was he? + </p> + <p> + “Tommy? Oh, he went to the State university; the old man was bound to send + him, and he was more dutiful than some sons. He was graduated with honors, + and came back to a large, ready-made justice court's practice. Of course + he drifted into criminal practice; but he has made a fine income out of + that, and is the shrewdest, some folks say the least scrupulous, political + manager in the county. And so, Harry, you have persuaded him to cast in + his lot with the party of principle, have you? and he is packing the + primaries?” + </p> + <p> + “I see nothing dishonest in our trying to get our friends out to vote at + the primaries, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course not, but he may not stop there. However, I want Bailey elected, + and I am glad he will work for us; what's his price?” + </p> + <p> + Harry blushed a little. “I believe he would like to be city attorney, + sir,” said he; and Mr. Lossing laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Would he make a bad one?” asked Mrs. Carriswood. + </p> + <p> + “He would make the best kind of a one,” replied Harry, with youthful + fervor; “he's a ward politician and all that, I know; but he has it in him + to be an uncommon deal more! And I say, sir, do you know that he and the + old man will take twenty-five thousand of the stock at par if we turn + ourselves into a corporation?” + </p> + <p> + “How about this new license measure? won't that bear a little bit hard on + the old man?” This from Mr. Lossing, who was biting his cigar in deep + thought. + </p> + <p> + “That will not prevent his doing his duty; why, the old man for very pride + will be the first to obey the law. You'll SEE!” + </p> + <p> + Six months later they did see, since it was mostly due to Fitzmaurice's + efforts that the reform candidate was elected; as a consequence, Tommy + became prosecuting attorney; and, to the amazement of the critics, made + the best prosecuting attorney that the city had ever known. + </p> + <p> + It was during the campaign that Mrs. Carriswood met him. Her goddaughter, + daughter of the friend to whom years ago she described Tommy, was with + her. This time Mrs. Carriswood had recently added Florida to her + disappointments in climates, and was back, as she told Mrs. Lossing, “with + a real sense of relief in a climate that was too bad to make any + pretensions.” + </p> + <p> + She had brought Miss Van Harlem to see the shops. It may be that she would + not have been averse to Harry Lossing's growing interested in young + Margaret. She had seen a great deal of Harry while he was East at school, + and he remained her first favorite, while Margaret was as good as she was + pretty, and had half a million of dollars in her own right. They had seen + Harry, and he was showing them through the different buildings or “shops,” + when a man entered who greeted him cordially, and whom he presented to + Mrs. Carriswood. It was Tommy Fitzmaurice, grown into a handsome young + man. He brought his heels together and made the ladies a solemn bow. + “Pleased to meet you, ladies; how do you like the West?” said Tommy. + </p> + <p> + His black locks curled about his ears, which seemed rather small now; he + had a good nose and a mobile, clean-shaven face. His hands were very white + and soft, and the rim of linen above them was dazzling. His black + frock-coat was buttoned snugly about his slim waist. He brushed his face + with a fine silk handkerchief, and thereby diffused the fragrance of the + best imported cologne among the odors of wood and turpentine. A diamond + pin sparkled from his neckscarf. The truth is, he knew that the visitors + were coming and had made a state toilet. “He looks half like an actor and + half like a clergyman, and he IS all a politician,” thought Mrs. + Carriswood; “I don't think I shall like him any more.” While she thought, + she was inclining her slender neck toward him, and the gentlest interest + and pleasure beamed out of her beautiful, dark eyes. + </p> + <p> + “We like the West, but <i>I</i> have liked it for ten years; this is not + my first visit,” said Mrs. Carriswood. + </p> + <p> + “I have reason to be glad for that, madam. I never made another speech so + good.” + </p> + <p> + He had remembered her; she laughed. “I had thought that you would forget.” + </p> + <p> + “How could I, when you have not changed at all?” + </p> + <p> + “But you have,” says Mrs. Carriswood, hardly knowing whether to show the + young man his place or not. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma'am, naturally. But I have not learned how to make a speech yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but you make very good ones, Harry tells me.” + </p> + <p> + “Much obliged, Harry. No, ma'am, Harry is a nice boy; but he doesn't know. + I know there is a lot to learn, and I guess a lot to unlearn; and I feel + all outside; I don't even know how to get at it. I have wished a thousand + times that I could talk with the lady who taught me to speak in the first + place.” He walked on by her side, talking eagerly. “You don't know how + many times I have felt I would give most anything for the opportunity of + just seeing you and talking with you; those things you said to me I always + remembered.” He had a hundred questions evidently stinging his tongue. And + some of them seemed to Mrs. Carriswood very apposite. + </p> + <p> + “I'm on the outside of such a lot of things,” says he. “When I first began + to suspect that I was on the outside was when I went to the High School, + and sometimes I was invited to Harry's; that was my first acquaintance + with cultivated society. You can't learn manners from books, ma'am. I + learned them at Harry's. That is,”—he colored and laughed,—“I + learned SOME. There's plenty left, I know. Then, I went to the University. + Some of the boys came from homes like Harry's, and some of the professors + there used to ask us to their houses; and I saw engravings and oil + paintings, and heard the conversation of persons of culture. All this only + makes me know enough to KNOW I am outside. I can see the same thing with + the lawyers, too. There is a set of them that are after another kind of + things; that think themselves above me and my sort of fellows. You know + all the talk about this being a free and equal country. That's the tallest + kind of humbug, madam! It is that. There are sets, one above another, + everywhere; big bugs and little bugs, if you will excuse the expression. + And you can't influence the big ones without knowing how they feel. A + fellow can't be poking in the dark in a speech or anywhere else. Now, + these fellows here, they go into politics, sometimes; and there, I tell + you, we come the nearest to a fair field and no favor! It is the best + fellow gets the prize there—the sharpest-witted, the nerviest, and + stanchest. Oh, talk of machine politics! all the soft chaps who ain't + willing to get up early in the morning, or to go out in the wet, THEY howl + about the primaries and corruption; let them get up and clean the + primaries instead of holding their noses! Those fellows, I'm not nice + enough for them, but I can beat them every time. They make a monstrous + racket in the newspapers, but when election comes on they can't touch + side, edge, or bottom!” + </p> + <p> + Discoursing in this fashion, with digressions to Harry in regard to the + machines, the furniture, and the sales, that showed Mrs. Carriswood that + he meant to keep an eye on his twenty odd thousand dollars, he strolled at + her side. To Miss Van Harlem he scarcely said three words. In fact, he + said exactly three words, uttered as Miss Margaret's silken skirts swung + too near a pot of varnish. They were “Look out, miss!” and at the same + second, Tommy (who was in advance, with really no call to know of the + danger), turned on his heel and whisked the skirts away, turning back to + pick up the sentence he had dropped. + </p> + <p> + Tommy told Harry that Miss Van Harlem was a very handsome lady, but + haughty-looking. Then he talked for half an hour about the cleverness of + Mrs. Carriswood. + </p> + <p> + “I am inclined to think Tommy will rise.” (Mrs. Carriswood was describing + the interview to her cousin, the next day.) “What do you think he said to + me last of all? 'How,' said he, 'does a man, a gentleman'—it had a + touch of the pathetic, don't you know, the little hesitation he made on + the word—'how does he show his gratitude to a lady who has done him + a great service?' 'Young or old?' I said. 'Oh, a married lady,' he said, + 'very much admired, who has been everywhere.' Wasn't that clever of him? I + told him that a man usually sent a few flowers. You saw the basket to-day—evidently + regardless of expense. And fancy, there was a card, a card with a gilt + edge and his name written on it.” + </p> + <p> + “The card was his mother's. She has visiting cards, now, and pays visits + once a year in a livery carriage. Poor Mrs. Fitzmaurice, she is always so + scared; and she is such a good soul! Tommy is very good to her.” + </p> + <p> + “How about the father? Does he still keep that 'nice' saloon?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but he talks of retiring. They are not poor at all, and Tommy is + their only child; the others died. It is hard on the old man to retire, + for he isn't so very old in fact, but if he once is convinced that his + calling stands in the way of Tommy's career, he won't hesitate a second.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor people,” said Mrs. Carriswood; “do you know, Grace, I can see + Tommy's future; he will grow to be a boss, a political boss. He will + become rich by keeping your streets always being cleaned—which means + never clean—and giving you the worst fire department and police to + be obtained for money; and, by and by, a grateful machine will make him + mayor, or send him to the Legislature, very likely to Congress, where he + will misrepresent the honest State of Iowa. Then he will bloom out in a + social way, and marry a gentlewoman, and they will snub the old people who + are so proud of him.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, we shall see,” said Mrs. Lossing; “I think better things of Tommy. + So does Harry.” + </p> + <p> + Part of the prophecy was to be speedily fulfilled. Two years later, the + Honorable Thomas Fitzmaurice was elected mayor of his city, elected by the + reform party, on account of his eminent services—and because he was + the only man in sight who had the ghost of a chance of winning. Harry's + version was: “Tommy jests at his new principles, but that is simply + because he doesn't comprehend what they are. He laughs at reform in the + abstract; but every concrete, practical reform he is as anxious as I or + anybody to bring about. And he will get them here, too.” + </p> + <p> + He was as good as his word; he gave the city an admirable administration, + with neither fear nor favor. Some of the “boys” still clung to him; these, + according to Harry, were the better “boys,” who had the seeds of good in + them and only needed opportunity and a leader. Tommy did not flag in zeal; + rather, as the time went on and he soared out of the criminal courts into + big civil cases involving property, he grew up to the level of his + admirers' praises. “Tommy,” wrote Mr. Lossing, presently, “is beginning to + take himself seriously. He has been told so often that he is a young lion + of reform, that he begins to study the role in dead earnest. I don't talk + this way to Harry, who believes in him and is training him for the + representative for our district. What harm? Verily, his is the faith that + will move mountains. Besides, Tommy is now rich; he must be worth a + hundred thousand dollars, which makes a man of wealth in these parts. It + is time for him to be respectable.” + </p> + <p> + Notwithstanding this preparation, Mrs. Carriswood (then giving Washington + the benefit of her doubts of climate) was surprised one day to receive a + perfectly correct visiting card whereon was engraved, “Mr. Thomas + Sackville Fitzmaurice, M.C.” + </p> + <p> + The young lady who was with her lifted her brilliant hazel eyes and half + smiled. “Is it the droll young man we met once at Mrs. Lossing's? Pray see + him, Aunt Margaret,” said Miss Van Harlem. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Carriswood shrugged her shoulders and ordered the man to show him up. + </p> + <p> + There entered, in the wake of the butler, a distinguished-looking + personage who held out his hand with a perfect copy of the bow that she + saw forty times a day. “He is taking himself very seriously,” she sighed; + “he is precisely like anybody else!” And she felt her interest snuffed out + by Tommy's correctness. But, directly, she changed her mind; the unfailing + charm of his race asserted itself in Tommy; she decided that he was a + delightful, original young man, and in ten minutes they were talking in + the same odd confidence that had always marked their relation. + </p> + <p> + “How perfectly you are gotten up! Are you INSIDE, now?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, do you remember that?” said he; “that's awfully good of you. Which is + so fortunate as to please you, my clothes or my deportment?” + </p> + <p> + “Both. They are very good. Where did you get them, Tommy? I shall take the + privilege of my age and call you Tommy.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you. The clothes? Oh, I asked Harry for the proper thing, and he + recommended a tailor. I think Harry gave me the manners, too.” + </p> + <p> + “And your new principles?” She could not resist this little fling. + </p> + <p> + “I owe a great deal in that way to Harry, also,” answered he, with + gravity. + </p> + <p> + Gone were the days of sarcastic ridicule, of visionary politics. Tommy + talked of the civil service in the tone of Harry himself. He was actually + eloquent. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Aunt Margaret, he is a remarkable young man,” exclaimed Miss Van + Harlem; “his honesty and enthusiasm are refreshing in this pessimist + place. I hope he will come again. Did you notice what lovely eyes he has?” + </p> + <p> + Before long it was not pure good-nature that caused Mrs. Carriswood to ask + Fitzmaurice to her house. He was known as a rising young man, One met him + at the best houses; yet he was a prodigious worker, and had made his mark + in committees, before the celebrated speech that sent him into all the + newspaper columns, or that stubborn and infinitely versatile fight against + odds which inspired the artist of PUCK. + </p> + <p> + Tommy bore the cartoon to Mrs. Carriswood, beaming. She had not seen that + light in his face since the memorable June afternoon in the Opera-house. + He sent the paper to his mother, who vowed the picture “did not favor + Tommy at all, at all. Sure Tommy never had such a red nose!” The old man, + however, went to his ex-saloon, and sat in state all the morning, showing + Tommy's funny picture. + </p> + <p> + It was about this time that Mrs. Carriswood observed something that took + her breath away: Tommy Fitzmaurice had the presumption to be attentive to + my lady's goddaughter, Miss Van Harlem. Nor was this the worst; there were + indications that Miss Van Harlem, who had refused the noble names and + titles of two or three continental nobles, and the noble name + unaccompanied by a title of the younger son of an English earl, without + mentioning the half-dozen “nice” American claimants—Miss Van Harlem + was not angry. + </p> + <p> + The day this staggering blow fell on her, Mrs. Carriswood was in her + dressing-room, peacefully watching Derry unpack a box from Paris, in + anticipation of a state dinner. And Miss Van Harlem, in a bewitching + wrapper, sat on the lounge and admired. Upon this scene of feminine peace + and happiness enter the Destroyer, in the shape of a note from Tommy + Fitzmaurice! Were they going on Beatoun's little excursion to Alexandria? + If they were, he would move heaven and earth to put off a committee + meeting, in order to join them. By the way, he was to get the floor for + his speech that afternoon. Wouldn't Mrs. Carriswood come to inspire him? + Perhaps Miss Van Harlem would not be bored by a little of it. + </p> + <p> + It was a well-worded note; as Mrs. Carriswood read it she realized for the + first time how completely Tommy was acclimated in society. She remembered + his plaint years ago, and his awe of “oil paintings” and “people of + culture;” and she laughed half-sadly as she passed the note over to Miss + Van Harlem. + </p> + <p> + “I presume it is the Alexandria excursion that the Beatouns were talking + about yesterday,” she said, languidly. “He wants to show that young + Irishman that we have a mild flavor of antiquity, ourselves. We are to see + Alexandria and have a real old Virginian dinner, including one of the + famous Beatoun hams and some of the '69 Chateau Yquem and the sacred '47 + port. I suppose he will have the four-in-hand buckboard. 'A small party '—that + will mean the Honorable Basil Sackville, Mrs. Beatoun, Lilly Denning, + probably one of the Cabinet girls, Colonel Turner, and that young Russian + Beatoun is so fond of, Tommy Fitzmaurice———” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you always call Mr. Fitzmaurice Tommy?”—this interruption + comes with a slight rise of color from young Margaret. + </p> + <p> + “Everybody calls him Tommy in his own town; a politician as popular as he + with the boys is naturally Tommy or Jerry or Billy. They slap him on the + back or sit with an arm around his neck and concoct the ways to rule us.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think anyone slaps Mr. Fitzmaurice on the back and calls him + Tommy, NOW,” says Margaret, with a little access of dignity. + </p> + <p> + “I dare say his poor old father and mother don't venture on that liberty; + I wish you had seen them——” + </p> + <p> + “He has told me about them,” says Margaret. + </p> + <p> + And Mrs. Carriswood's dismay was such that for a second she simply gasped. + Were things so far along that such confessions were made? Tommy must be + very confident to venture; it was shrewd, very shrewd, to forestall Mrs. + Carriswood's sure revelations—oh, Tommy was not a politician for + nothing! + </p> + <p> + “Besides,” Margaret went on, with the same note of repressed feeling in + her voice, “his is a good family, if they have decayed; his ancestor was + Lord Fitzmaurice in King James's time.” + </p> + <p> + “She takes HIM seriously too!” thought Mrs. Carriswood, with inexpressible + consternation; “what SHALL I say to her mother?” + </p> + <p> + Strange to say, perhaps, considering that she was so frankly a woman of + the world, her stub-bornest objection to Tommy was not an objection of + expediency. She had insensibly grown to take his success for granted, like + the rest of the Washington world; he would be a governor, a senator, he + might be—anything! And he was perfectly presentable, now; no, it + would be on the whole an investment in the future that would pay well + enough; his parents would be awkward, but they were old people, not likely + to be too much <i>en evidence</i>. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Carriswood, while not overjoyed, would not feel crushed by such a + match, but she did view what she regarded as Tommy's moral instability, + with a dubious and fearful eye. He was earnest enough for his new + principles now; but what warrant was there of his sincerity? Margaret and + her mother were high-minded women. It was the gallant knight of her party + and her political faith that the girl admired, the valiant fight, not the + triumph! No mere soldier of fortune, no matter how successful or how + brilliant, could win her; if Tommy were the mercenary, not the knight, no + worldly glory could compensate his wife. + </p> + <p> + Wherefore, after a bad quarter of an hour reflecting on these things, Mrs. + Carriswood went to the Capitol, resolved to take her goddaughter away. She + would not withdraw her acceptance of the Beatouns' invitation, no; let the + Iowa congressman have every opportunity to display his social shortcomings + in contrast with the accomplished Russian, and Jack Turner, the most + elegant man in the army; the next day would be time enough for a telegram + and a sudden flitting. Yet in the midst of her plans for Tommy's + discomfiture she was assailed by a queer regret and reluctance. Tommy's + fascination had affected even a professional critic of life; he had been + so amusing, so willing, so trusting, so useful, that her chill interest + had warmed into liking. She felt a moving of the heart as the handsome + black head arose, and the first notes of that resonant, thrilling voice + swelled above the din on the floor. + </p> + <p> + It was the day of his great speech, the speech that made him, it was said. + </p> + <p> + As Mrs. Carriswood sank back, turning a little in an instinctive effort to + repulse her own sympathy, she was aware of the presence near her of an + elderly man and woman. The old man wore a shining silk hat and shining new + black clothes. His expansive shirt-bosom was very white, but not glossy, + and rumpled in places; and his collar was of the spiked and antique + pattern known as a “dickey.” His wrinkled, red face was edged by a white + fringe of whisker. He wore large gold-bowed spectacles, and his jaws + worked incessantly. + </p> + <p> + The woman was a little, mild, wrinkled creature, with an anxious blue eye + and snowy hair, smoothed down over her ears, under her fine bonnet. She + was richly dressed, but her silks and velvets ill suited the season. Had + she seen them anywhere else, Mrs. Carriswood might not have recognized + them; but there, with Tommy before them, both of them feverishly absorbed + in Tommy, she recognized them at a glance. She had a twinge of pity, + watching the old faces pale and kindle. With the first rustle of applause, + she saw the old father slip his hand into the old mother's. They sat well + behind a pillar; and however excited they became, they never so lost + themselves as to lean in front of their shield. This, also, she noticed. + The speech over, the woman wiped her eyes. The old man joined in the + tumult of applause that swept over the galleries, but the old woman pulled + his arm, evidently feeling that it was not decent for them to applaud. She + sat rigid, with red cheeks and her eyes brimming; he was swaying and + clapping and laughing in a roar of delight. But it was he that drew her + away, finally, while she fain would have lingered to look at Tommy + receiving congratulations below. + </p> + <p> + “Poor things,” said Mrs. Carriswood, “I do believe they haven't let him + know that they are here.” And she remembered how she had pitied them for + this very possibility of humiliation years before. But she did not pursue + the adventure, and some obscure motive prevented her speaking of it to + Miss Van Harlem. + </p> + <p> + Did Tommy's parents tell Tommy? If they did, Tommy made no sign. The + morning found him with the others, in a beautiful white flannel suit, with + a silk shirt and a red silk sash, looking handsomer than any man of the + party. He took the congratulations of the company modestly. Either he was + not much puffed up, or he had the art of concealment. + </p> + <p> + They saw Alexandria in a conscientious fashion, for the benefit of the + guest of the day. He was a modest young fellow with a nose rather too + large for his face, a long upper lip, and frank blue eyes. He made himself + agreeable to one of the Cabinet girls, on the front seat, while Tommy, + just behind him, had Miss Van Harlem and bliss for his portion. + </p> + <p> + The old streets, the toppling roofs, the musty warehouses, the uneven + pavement, all pleased the young creatures out in the sunshine. They made + merry over the ancient ball-room, where Washington had asked a far-away + ancestress of Beatoun to dance; and they decorously walked through the old + church. + </p> + <p> + IT happened in the church. Mrs. Carriswood was behind the others; so she + saw them come in, the same little old couple of the Capitol. + </p> + <p> + In the chancel, Beatoun was explaining; beside Beatoun shone a curly black + head that they knew. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Carriswood sat in one of the high old pews. Through a crack she could + look into the next pew; and there they stood. She heard the old man: + “Whist, Molly, let's be getting out of this! HE is here with all his grand + friends. Don't let us be interrupting him.” + </p> + <p> + The old woman's voice was so like Tommy's that it made Mrs. Carriswood + start. Very softly she spoke: “I only want to look at him a minute, Pat, + jest a minute. I ain't seen him for so long.” + </p> + <p> + “And is it any longer for you than for me?” retorted the husband. “Ye know + what ye promised if I'd be taking you here, unbeknownst. Don't look his + way! Look like ye was a stranger to him. Don't let us be mortifying him + wid our country ways. Like as not 'tis the prisidint, himself, he is + colloguein' wid, this blessed minute. Shtep back and be a stranger to him, + woman!” + </p> + <p> + A stranger to him, his own mother! But she stepped back; she turned her + patient face. Then—Tommy saw her. + </p> + <p> + A wave of red flushed all over his face. He took two steps down the aisle, + and caught the little figure in his arms. + </p> + <p> + “Why, mother?” he cried, “why, mother, where did you drop from?” + </p> + <p> + And before Mrs. Carriswood could speak she saw him step back and push + young Sackville forward, crying, “This is my father, this is the boy that + knew your grandmother.” + </p> + <p> + He did it so easily; he was so entirely unaffected, so perfectly + unconscious, that there was nothing at all embarrassing for anyone. Even + the Cabinet girl, with a grandmother in very humble life, who must be kept + in the background, could not feel disconcerted. + </p> + <p> + For this happy result Mrs. Carriswood owns a share of the credit. She + advanced on the first pause, and claimed acquaintanceship with the + Fitzmaurices. The story of their last meeting and Tommy's first triumph in + oratory came, of course; the famous horseshoe received due mention; and + Tommy described with much humor his terror of the stage. From the speech + to its most effective passage was a natural transition; equally natural + the transition to Tommy's grandmother, the Irish famine, and the + benevolence of Lady Sackville. + </p> + <p> + Everybody was interested, and it was Sackville himself, who brought the + Fitzmaurices' noble ancestors, the apocryphal Viscounts Fitzmaurice of + King James's creation, on to the carpet. + </p> + <p> + He was entirely serious. “My grandmother told me of your + great-grandfather, Lord Fitzmaurice; she saw him ride to hounds once, when + she was a little girl. They say he was the boldest rider in Ireland, and a + renowned duellist too. King James gave the title to his grandfather, + didn't he? and the countryside kept it, if it was given rather too late in + the day to be useful. I am glad you have restored the family fortunes, Mr. + Fitzmaurice.” + </p> + <p> + The Cabinet girl looked on Tommy with respect, and Miss Van Harlem blushed + like an angel. + </p> + <p> + “All is lost,” said Mrs. Carriswood to herself; yet she smiled. Going + home, she found a word for Tommy's ear. The old Virginian dinner had been + most successful. The Fitzmaurices (who had been almost forced into the + banquet by Beatoun's imperious hospitality) were not a wet blanket in the + least. Patrick Fitzmaurice, brogue and all, was an Irish gentleman without + a flaw. He blossomed out into a modest wag; and told two or three comic + stories as acceptably as he was used to tell them to a very different + circle—only, carrying a fresher flavor of wit to this circle, + perhaps, it enjoyed them more. Mrs. Fitzmaurice looked scared and ate + almost nothing, with the greatest propriety, and her fork in her left + hand. Yet even she thawed under Miss Van Harlem's attentions and gentle + Mrs. Beatoun's tact, and the winning ways of the last Beatoun baby. She + took this absent cherub to her heart with such undissembled warmth that + its mother ever since has called her “a sweet, funny little old lady.” + </p> + <p> + They were both (Patrick and his wife) quite unassuming and retiring, and + no urging could dissuade them from parting with the company at the tavern + door. + </p> + <p> + “My word, Tommy, your mother and I can git home by ourselves,” whispered + honest Patrick; “we've not exceeded—if the wines WERE good. I never + exceeded in my life, God take the glory!” + </p> + <p> + But he embraced Tommy so affectionately in parting that I confess Mrs. + Carriswood had suspicions. Yet, surely, it is more likely that his brain + was—let us not say TURNED, but just a wee bit TILTED, by the joy and + triumph of the occasion rather than by Beatoun's port or champagne. + </p> + <p> + But Mrs. Carriswood's word had nothing to do with Tommy's parents, + ostensibly, though, in truth, it had everything to do. She said: “Will you + dine with us to-morrow, quite <i>en famille</i>, Thomas?” + </p> + <p> + “I ought to tell you, I suppose, that I find your house a pretty dangerous + paradise, Mrs. Carriswood,” says Tommy. + </p> + <p> + “And I find you a most dangerous angel, Thomas; but—you see I ask + you!” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” answers Tommy, in a different tone; “you've always been an + angel to me. What I owe to you and Harry Lossing—well, I can't talk + about it. But see here, Mrs. Carriswood, you always have called me Tommy; + now you say Thomas; why this state?” + </p> + <p> + “I think you have won your brevet, Thomas.” + </p> + <p> + He looked puzzled, and she liked him the better that he should not make + enough of his conduct to understand her; but, though she has called him + Tommy often since, he keeps the brevet in her thoughts. In fact, Mrs. + Carriswood is beginning to take the Honorable Thomas Fitzmaurice and his + place in the world seriously, herself. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + MOTHER EMERITUS + </h2> + <p> + THE Louders lived on the second floor, at the head of the stairs, in the + Lossing Building. There is a restaurant to the right; and a new doctor, + every six months, who is every kind of a healer except “regular,” keeps + the permanent boarders in gossip, to the left; two or three dressmakers, a + dentist, and a diamond merchant up-stairs, one flight; and half a dozen + families and a dozen single tenants higher—so you see the Louders + had plenty of neighbors. In fact, the multitude of the neighbors is one + cause of my story. + </p> + <p> + Tilly Louder came home from the Lossing factory (where she is a + typewriter) one February afternoon. As she turned the corner, she was face + to the river, which is not so full of shipping in winter that one cannot + see the steel-blue glint of the water. Back of her the brick paved street + climbed the hill, under a shapeless arch of trees. The remorseless pencil + of a railway has drawn black lines at the foot of the hill; and, all day + and all night, slender red bars rise and sink in their black sockets, to + the accompaniment of the outcry of tortured steam. All day, if not all + night, the crooked pole slips up and down the trolley wire, as the yellow + cars rattle, and flash, and clang a spiteful little bell, that sounds like + a soprano bark, over the crossings. + </p> + <p> + It is customary in the Lossing Building to say, “We are so handy to the + cars.” The street is a handsome street, not free from dingy old brick + boxes of stores below the railway, but fast replacing them with fairer + structures. The Lossing Building has the wide arches, the recessed doors, + the balconies and the colonnades of modern business architecture. The + occupants are very proud of the balconies, in particular; and, summer + days, these will be a mass of greenery and bright tints. To-day, it was so + warm, February day though it was, that some of the potted plants were + sunning themselves outside the windows. + </p> + <p> + Tilly could see them if she craned her neck. There were some bouvardias + and fuchsias of her mother's among them. + </p> + <p> + “It IS a pretty building,” said Tilly; and, for some reason, she frowned. + </p> + <p> + She was a young woman, but not a very young woman. Her figure was slim, + and she looked better in loose waists than in tightly fitted gowns. She + wore a dark green gown with a black jacket, and a scarlet shirt-waist + underneath. Her face was long, with square chin and high cheek-bones, and + thin, firm lips; yet she was comely, because of her lustrous black hair, + her clear, gray eyes, and her charming, fair skin. She had another gift: + everything about her was daintily neat; at first glance one said, “Here is + a person who has spent pains, if not money, on her toilet.” + </p> + <p> + By this time Tilly was entering the Lossing Building. Half-way up the + stairway a hand plucked her skirts. The hand belonged to a tired-faced + woman in black, on whose breast glittered a little crowd of pins and + threaded needles, like the insignia of an Order of Toil. + </p> + <p> + “Please excuse me, Miss Tilly,” said the woman, at the same time + presenting a flat package in brown paper, “but WILL you give this pattern + back to your mother. I am so very much obliged. I don't know how I WOULD + git along without your mother, Tilly.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll give the pattern to her,” said Tilly, and she pursued her way. + </p> + <p> + Not very far. A stout woman and a thin young man, with long, wavy, red + hair, awaited her on the landing. The woman held a plate of cake which she + thrust at Tilly the instant they were on the same level, saying: “The cake + was just splendid, tell your mother; it's a lovely recipe, and will you + tell her to take this, and see how well I succeeded?” + </p> + <p> + “And—ah—Miss Louder,” said the man, as the stout woman rustled + away, “here are some <i>Banner of Lights;</i> I think she'd be interested + in some of the articles on the true principles of the inspirational faith——” + Tilly placed the bundle of newspapers at the base of her load—“and—and, + I wish you'd tell your dear mother that, under the angels, her mustard + plaster really saved my life.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell her,” said Tilly. + </p> + <p> + She had advanced a little space before a young girl in a bright blue silk + gown flung a radiant presence between her and the door. “Oh, Miss Tilly,” + she murmured, blushing, “will you just give your mother this?—it's—it's + Jim's photograph. You tell her it's ALL right; and SHE was exactly right, + and <i>I</i> was wrong. She'll understand.” + </p> + <p> + Tilly, with a look of resignation, accepted a stiff package done up in + white tissue paper. She had now only three steps to take: she took two, + only two, for—“Miss Tilly, PLEASE!” a voice pealed around the + corner, while a flushed and breathless young woman, with a large baby + toppling over her lean shoulder, staggered into view. “My!” she panted, + “ain't it tiresome lugging a child! I missed the car, of course, coming + home from ma's. Oh, say, Tilly, your mother was so good, she said she'd + tend Blossom next time I went to the doctor's, and——” + </p> + <p> + “I'll take the baby,” said Tilly. She hoisted the infant on to her own + shoulder with her right arm. “Perhaps you'll be so kind's to turn the + handle of the door,” said she in a slightly caustic tone, “as I haven't + got any hands left. Please shut it, too.” + </p> + <p> + As the young mother opened the door, Tilly entered the parlor. For a + second she stood and stared grimly about her. The furniture of the room + was old-fashioned but in the best repair. There was a cabinet organ in one + corner. A crayon portrait of Tilly's father (killed in the civil war) + glared out of a florid gilt frame. Perhaps it was the fault of the + portrait, but he had a peevish frown. There were two other portraits of + him, large ghastly gray tintypes in oval frames of rosewood, obscurely + suggesting coffins. In these he looked distinctly sullen. He was + represented in uniform (being a lieutenant of volunteers), and the artist + had conscientiously gilded his buttons until, as Mrs. Louder was wont to + observe, “It most made you want to cut them off with the scissors.” There + were other tintypes and a flock of photographs in the room. What Mrs. + Louder named “a throw” decorated each framed picture and each chair. The + largest arm-chair was drawn up to a table covered with books and + magazines: in the chair sat Mrs. Louder, reading. + </p> + <p> + At Tilly's entrance she started and turned her head, and then one could + see that the tears were streaming down her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Now, MOTHER!” exploded Tilly. Kicking the door open, she marched into the + bed-chamber. An indignant sweep of one arm sent the miscellany of gifts + into a rocking-chair; an indignant curve of the other landed the baby on + the bed. Tilly turned on her mother. “Now, mother, what did you promise—HUSH! + will you?” (The latter part of the sentence a fierce “ASIDE” to the infant + on the bed.) In a second Mrs. Louder's arms were encircling him, and she + was soothing him on her broad shoulder, where I know not how many babies + have found comfort. + </p> + <p> + Jane Louder was a tall woman—tall and portly. She had a massive + repose about her, a kind of soft dignity; and a stranger would not guess + how tender was her heart. Deprecatingly she looked up at her only child, + standing in judgment over her. Her eyes were fine still, though they had + sparkled and wept for more than half a century. They were not gray, like + Tilly's, but a deep violet, with black eyelashes and eyebrows. Black, + once, had been the hair under the widow's cap, now streaked with silver; + but Jane Louder's skin was fresh and daintily tinted like her daughter's, + for all its fine wrinkles. Her voice when she spoke was mellow and slow, + with a nervous vibration of apology. “Never mind, dear,” she said, “I was + just reading 'bout the Russians.” + </p> + <p> + “I KNEW it! You promised me you wouldn't cry about the Russians any more.” + </p> + <p> + “I know, Tilly, but Alma Brown lent this to me, herself. There's a + beautiful article in it about 'The Horrors of Hunger.' It would make your + heart ache! I wish you would read it, Tilly.” + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you. I don't care to have my heart ache. I'm not going to read + any more horrors about the Russians, or hear them either, if I can help + it. I have to write Mr. Lossing's letters about them, and that's enough. + I've given all I can afford, and you've given more than you can afford; + and I helped get up the subscription at the shops. I've done all I could; + and now I ain't going to have my feelings harrowed up any more, when it + won't do me nor the Russians a mite of good.” + </p> + <p> + “But I cayn't HELP it, Tilly. I cayn't take any comfort in my meals, + thinking of that awful black bread the poor children starve rather than + eat; and, Tilly, they ain't so dirty as some folks think! I read in a + magazine how they have GOT to bathe twice a week by their religion; and + there's a bath-house in every village. Tilly, do you know how much money + they've raised here?” + </p> + <p> + “Over three thousand. This town is the greatest town for giving—give + to the cholera down South, give to Johnstown, give to Grinnell, give to + cyclones, give to fires. <i>The Freeman</i> always starts up a + subscription, and Mr. Bayard runs the thing, and Mr. Lossing always gives. + Mother, I tell you HE makes them hustle when he takes hold. He's the + chairman here, and he has township chairmen appointed for every township. + He's so popular they start in to oblige him, and then, someway, he makes + them all interested. I must tell you of a funny letter he had to-day from + a Captain Ferguson, out at Baxter. He's a rich farmer with lots of + influence and a great worker, Mr. Lossing says. But this is 'most word for + word what he wrote: 'Dear Sir: I am sorry for the Russians, but my wife is + down with the la grippe, and I can't get a hired girl; so I have to stay + with her. If you'll get me a hired girl, I'll get you a lot of money for + the Russians.'” + </p> + <p> + “Did he git a girl? I mean Mr. Lossing.” + </p> + <p> + “No, ma'am. He said he'd try if it was the city, but it was easier finding + gold-mines than girls that would go into the country. See here, I'm + forgetting your presents. Mother, you look real dragged and—queer!” + </p> + <p> + “It's nothing; jist a thought kinder struck me 'bout—'bout that + girl.” + </p> + <p> + Tilly was sorting out the parcels and explaining them; at the end of her + task her mind harked back to an old grievance. “Mother,” said she, “I've + been thinking for a long time, and I've made up my mind.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dearie.” Mrs. Louder's eyes grew troubled. She knew something of the + quality of Tilly's mind, which resembled her father's in a peculiar + immobility. Once let her decision run into any mould (be it whatsoever it + might), and let it stiffen, there was no chance, any more than with other + iron things, of its bending. + </p> + <p> + “Positively I could hardly get up the stairs today,” said Tilly—she + was putting her jacket and hat away in her orderly fashion; of necessity + her back was to Mrs. Louder—“there was such a raft of people wanting + to send stuff and messages to you. You are just working yourself to death; + and, mother, I am convinced we have <i>got to move!</i>” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Louder dropped into a chair and gasped. The baby, who had fallen + asleep, stirred uneasily. It was not a pretty child; its face was heavy, + its little cheeks were roughened by the wind, its lower lip sagged, its + chin creased into the semblance of a fat old man's. But Jane Louder gazed + down on it with infinite compassion. She stroked its head as she spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Tilly,” said she, “I've been in this block, Mrs. Carleton and me, ever + since it was built; and, some way, between us we've managed to keep the + run of all the folks in it; at least when they were in any trouble. We've + worked together like sisters. She's 'Piscopal, and I guess I'm Unitarian; + but never a word between us. We tended the Willardses through diphtheria + and the Hopkinses through small-pox, and we steamed and fumigated the + rooms together. It was her first found out the Dillses were letting that + twelve-year-old child run the gasoline stove, and she threatened to tell + Mr. Lossing, and they begged off; and when it exploded we put it out + together, with flour out of her flour-barrel, for the poor, shiftless + things hadn't half a sack full of their own; and her and me, we took half + the care of that little neglected Ellis baby that was always sitting down + in the sticky fly-paper, poor innocent child. He's took the valedictory at + the High School, Tilly, now. No, Tilly, I couldn't bring myself to leave + this building, where I've married them, and buried them, and born them, + you may say, being with so many of their mothers; I feel like they was all + my children. Don't ASK me.” + </p> + <p> + Tilly's head went upward and backward with a little dilatation of the + nostrils. “Now, mother,” said she in a voice of determined gentleness, + “just listen to me. Would I ask you to do anything that wouldn't be for + your happiness? I have found a real pretty house up on Fifteenth Street; + and we'll keep house together, just as cosey; and have a woman come to + wash and iron and scrub, so it won't be a bit hard; and be right on the + street-cars; and you won't have to drudge helping Mrs. Carleton extra + times with her restaurant.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Tilly,” eagerly interrupted Mrs. Louder, “you know I dearly love to + cook, and she PAYS me. I couldn't feel right to take any of the pension + money, or the little property your father left me, away from the house + expenses; but what I earn myself, it is SUCH a comfort to give away out of + THAT.” + </p> + <p> + Tilly ran over and kissed the agitated face. “You dear, generous mother!” + cried she, “I'LL give you all the money you want to spend or give. I got + another rise in my salary of five a month. Don't you worry.” + </p> + <p> + “You ain't thinking of doing anything right away, Tilly?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you think it's best done and over with, after we've decided, + mother? You have worked so hard all your life I want to give you some ease + and peace now.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Tilly, I love to work; I wouldn't be happy to do nothing, and I'd + get so fleshy!” + </p> + <p> + Tilly only laughed. She did not crave the show of authority. Let her but + have her own way, she would never flaunt her victories. She was imperious, + but she was not arrogant. For months she had been pondering how to give + her mother an easier life; and she set the table for supper, in a filial + glow of satisfaction, never dreaming that her mother, in the kitchen, was + keeping her head turned from the stove lest she should cry into the fried + ham and stewed potatoes. But, at a sudden thought, Jane Louder laid her + big spoon down to wipe her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Here you are, Jane Louder”—thus she addressed herself—“mourning + and grieving to leave your friends and be laid aside for a useless old + woman, and jist be taken care of, and you clean forgetting the chance the + Lord gives you to help more'n you ever helped in your life! For shame!” + </p> + <p> + A smile of exaltation, of lofty resolution, erased the worry lines on her + face. “Why, it might be to save twenty lives,” said she; but in the very + speaking of the words a sharp pain wrenched her heart again, and she + caught up the baby from the floor, where he sat in a wall of chairs, and + sobbed over him: “Oh, how can I go away when I got to go for good so soon? + I want every minnit!” + </p> + <p> + She never thought of disputing Tilly's wishes. “It's only fair,” said + Jane. “She's lived here all these years to please me, and now I ought to + be willing to go to please her.” + </p> + <p> + Neither did she for a moment hope to change Tilly's determination. “She + was the settest baby ever was,” thought poor Jane, tossing on her pillow, + in the night watches, “and it's grown with every inch of her!” + </p> + <p> + But in the morning she surprised her daughter. “Tilly,” said she at the + breakfast-table, “Tilly, I got something I must do, and I don't want you + to oppose me.” + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious, ma!” said Tilly; “as if I ever opposed you!” + </p> + <p> + “You know how bad I have been feeling about the poor Russians———” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “And how I've wished and wished I could do something—something to + COUNT? I never could, Tilly, because I ain't got the money or the + intellect; but s'posing I could do it for somebody else, like this Captain + Ferguson who could do so much if he just could get a hired girl to take + care of his wife. Well, I do know how to cook and to keep a house neat and + to do for the sick——” + </p> + <p> + Tilly could restrain herself no longer; her voice rose to a shout of + dismay—“Mother Louder, you AIN'T thinking of going to be the + Ferguson's <i>hired girl!</i>” + </p> + <p> + “Not their hired girl, Tilly; just their help, so as he can work for those + poor starving creatures.” Jane strangled a sob in her throat. Tilly, in a + kind of stupor of bewilderment, frowned at her plate. Then her clouded + face cleared. If Mrs. Louder had surprised her daughter, her daughter + repaid the surprise. “Well, if you feel that way, mother,” said she, “I + won't say a word; and I'll ask Mr. Lossing to explain to the Fergusons and + fix everything. He will.” + </p> + <p> + “You're real good, Tilly.” + </p> + <p> + “And while you're gone I guess it will be a good plan to move and git + settled——” + </p> + <p> + For some reason Tilly's throat felt dry, she lifted her cup. She did not + intend to look across the table, but her eyes escaped her. She set the + coffee down untasted. The clock was slow, she muttered; and she left the + room. + </p> + <p> + Jane Louder remained in her place, with the same pale face, staring at the + table-cloth. + </p> + <p> + “It don't seem like I COULD go, now,” she thought dully to herself; “the + time's so awful short, I don't s'pose Maria Carleton can git up to see me + more'n once or twice a month, busy as she is! I got so to depend on seeing + her every day. A sister couldn't be kinder! I don't see how I am going to + bear it. And to go away, beforehand——” + </p> + <p> + For a long while she sat, her face hardly changing. At last, when she did + push her chair away, her lips were tightly closed. She spoke to the little + pile of books lying on the table in the corner. “I cayn't—these are + my own and you are strangers!” She walked across the room to take up the + same magazine which Tilly had found her reading the day before. When she + began reading she looked stern—poor Jane, she was steeling her heart—but + in a little while she was sniffing and blowing her nose. With a groan she + flung the book aside. “It's no use, I would feel like a murderer if I + don't go!” said she. + </p> + <p> + She did go. Harry Lossing made all the arrangements. Tilly was satisfied. + But, then, Tilly had not heard Harry's remark to his mother: “Alma says + Miss Louder is trying to make the old lady move against her will. I dare + say it would be better to give the young woman a chance to miss her mother + and take a little quiet think.” + </p> + <p> + Tilly saw her mother off on the train to Baxter, the Fergusons' station. + Being a provident, far-sighted, and also inexperienced traveller, she had + allowed a full half-hour for preliminary passages at arms with the railway + officials; and, as the train happened to be an hour late, she found + herself with time to spare, even after she had exhausted the catalogue of + possible deceptions and catastrophes by rail. During the silence that + followed her last warning, she sat mentally keeping tally on her fingers. + “Confidence men”—Tilly began with the thumb—“Never give + anybody her check. Never lend anybody money. Never write her name to + anything. Don't get out till conductor tells her. In case of accident, + telegraph me, and keep in the middle of the car, off the trucks. Not take + care of anybody's baby while she goes off for a minute. Not take care of + babies at all. Or children. Not talk to strangers—good gracious!” + </p> + <p> + Tilly felt a movement of impatience; there, after all her cautions, there + was her mother helping an old woman, an utterly strange old woman, to pile + a bird-cage on a bandbox surmounting a bag. The old woman was clad in a + black alpaca frock, made with the voluminous draperies of years ago, but + with the uncreased folds and the brilliant gloss of a new gown. She wore a + bonnet of a singular shape, unknown to fashion, but made out of good + velvet. Beneath the bonnet (which was large) appeared a little, round, + agitated old face, with bobbing white curls and white teeth set a little + apart in the mouth, a defect that brought a kind of palpitating frankness + into the expression. + </p> + <p> + “Now, who HAS mother picked up now?” thought Tilly. “Well, praise be, she + hasn't a baby, anyhow!” + </p> + <p> + She could hear the talk between the two; for the old woman being deaf, + Mrs. Louder elevated her voice, and the old woman, herself, spoke in a + high, thin pipe that somehow reminded Tilly of a lost lamb. + </p> + <p> + “That's just so,” said Mrs. Louder, “a body cayn't help worrying over a + sick child, especially if they're away from you.” + </p> + <p> + “Solon and Minnie wouldn't tell me,” bleated the other woman, “they knew + I'd worry. Kinder hurt me they should keep things from me; but they hate + to have me upset. They are awful good children. But I suspicioned + something when Alonzo kept writing. Minnie, she wouldn't tell me, but I + pinned her down and it come out, Eliza had the grip bad. And, then, + nothing would do but I must go to her—why, Mrs. Louder, she's my + child! But they wouldn't hark to it. 'Fraid to have me travel alone——” + </p> + <p> + “I guess they take awful good care of you,” said Mrs. Louder; and she + sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma'am, awful.” She, too, sighed. + </p> + <p> + As she talked her eyes were darting about the room, eagerly fixed on every + new arrival. + </p> + <p> + “Are you expecting anyone, Mrs. Higbee?” said Jane. They seemed, at least, + to know each other by name, thought Tilly; it was amazing the number of + people mother did know! + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Mrs. Higbee, “I—I—fact is, I'm kinder frightened. I—fact + is, Mrs. Louder, I guess I'll tell you, though I don't know you very well; + but I've known about you so long—I run away and didn't tell 'em. I + just couldn't stay way from Liza. And I took the bird—for the + children; and it's my bird, and I was 'fraid Minnie would forget to feed + it and it would be lonesome. My children are awful kind good children, but + they don't understand. And if Solon sees me he will want me to go back. I + know I'm dretful foolish; and Solon and Minnie will make me see I am. + There won't be no good reason for me to go, and I'll have to stay; and I + feel as if I should FLY—Oh, massy sakes! there's Solon coming down + the street——” + </p> + <p> + She ran a few steps in half a dozen ways, then fluttered back to her bag + and her cage. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Mrs. Louder, drawing herself up to her full height, “you + SHALL go if you want to.” + </p> + <p> + “Solon will find me, he'll know the bird-cage! Oh, dear! Oh, dear!” + </p> + <p> + Then a most unexpected helper stepped upon the stage. What is the + mysterious instinct of rebellion to authority that, nine cases out of ten, + sends us to the aid of a fugitive? Tilly, the unconscious despot of her + own mother, promptly aided and abetted Solon's rebel mother in her flight. + </p> + <p> + “Not if <i>I</i> carry it,” said she, snatching up the bird-cage; “run + inside that den where they sell refreshments; he'll see ME and go + somewhere else.” + </p> + <p> + It fell out precisely as she planned. They heard Solon demanding a lady + with a bird-cage of the agent; they heard the agent's reply, given with + official indifference, “There she is, inside.” Directly, Solon, a small + man with an anxious mien, ran into the waiting-room, flung a glance of + disappointment at Tilly, and ran out again. + </p> + <p> + Tilly went to her client. “Did he look like he was anxious?” was the + mother's greeting. “Oh, I just know he and Minnie will be hunting me + everywhere. Maybe I had better go home, 'stead of to Baxter.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you hadn't,” said Tilly, with decision. “Mother's going to Baxter, + too, and if you like, minnit you're safely off, I'll go tell your folks.” + </p> + <p> + “You're real kind, I'd be ever so much obliged. And you don't mind your ma + travelling alone? ain't that nice for her!” She seemed much cheered by the + prospect of company and warmed into confidences. + </p> + <p> + “I am kinder lonesome, sometimes, that's a fact,” said she, “and I kinder + wish I lived in a block or a flat like your ma. You see, Minnie teaches in + the public school and she's away all day, and she don't like to have me + make company of the hired girl, though she's a real nice girl. And there + ain't nothing for me to do, and I feel like I wasn't no use any more in + the world. I remember that's what our old minister in Ohio said once. He + was a real nice old man; and they HAD thought everything of him in the + parish; but he got old and his sermons were long; and so they got a young + man for assistant; and they made HIM a <i>pastor americus</i>, they called + it—some sort of Latin. Folks did say the young feller was stuck up + and snubbed the old man; anyhow, he never preached after young Lisbon + come; and only made the first prayers. But when the old folks would ask + him to preach some of the old sermons they had liked, he only would say, + 'No, friends, I know more about my sermons, now.' He didn't live very + long, and I always kinder fancied being a AMERICUS killed him. And some + days I git to feeling like I was a kinder AMERICUS myself.” + </p> + <p> + “That ain't fair to your children,” said Tilly; “you ought to let them + know how you feel. Then they'd act different.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't know, I don't know. You see, miss, they're so sure they know + better'n me. Say, Mrs. Louder, be you going to visit relatives in Baxter?” + </p> + <p> + “No, ma'am, I'm going to take care of a sick lady,” said Jane, “it's + kinder queer. Her name's Ferguson, her——” + </p> + <p> + “For the land's sake!” screamed Mrs. Higbee, “why, that's my 'Liza!” She + was in a flutter of surprise and delight, and so absorbed was Tilly in + getting her and her unwieldy luggage into the car, that Jane's daughter + forgot to kiss her mother good-by. + </p> + <p> + “Put your arm in QUICK,” she yelled, as Jane essayed to kiss her hand + through the window; “don't EVER put your arm or your head out of a train!”—the + train moved away—“I do hope she'll remember what I told her, and not + lend anybody money, or come home lugging somebody else's baby!” + </p> + <p> + With such reflections, and an ugly sensation of loneliness creeping over + her, Tilly went to assure Miss Minnie Higbee of her mother's safety. She + described her reception to Harry Lossing and Alma, later. “She really + seemed kinder mad at me,” says Tilly, “seemed to think I was interfering + somehow. And she hadn't any business to feel that way, for SHE didn't know + how I'd fooled her brother with that bird-cage. I guess the poor old lady + daren't call her soul her own. I'd hate to have my mother that way—so + 'fraid of me. MY mother shall go where she pleases, and stay where she + pleases, and DO as she pleases.” + </p> + <p> + “That makes me think,” says Alma, “I heard you were going to move.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, we are. Mother is working too hard. She knows everybody in the + building, and they call on her all the time; and I think the easiest way + out is just to move.” + </p> + <p> + Alma and Mr. Lossing exchanged glances. There is an Arabian legend of an + angel whose trade it is to decipher the language of faces. This angel must + have perceived that Alma's eyes said, with the courage of a second in a + duel, “Go on, now is the time!” and that Harry's answered, with masculine + pusillanimity, “I don't like to!” + </p> + <p> + But he spoke. “Very likely your mother does sometimes work too hard,” said + he. “But don't you think it would be harder for her not to work? Why, she + must have been in the building ever since my father bought it; and she's + been a janitor and a fire inspector and a doctor and a ministering angel + combined! That is why we never raised the rent to you when we improved the + building, and raised it on the others. My father told me your mother was + the best paying tenant he ever had. And don't you remember how, when I + used to come with him, when I was a little boy, she used to take me in her + room while he went the rounds? She was always doing good to everybody, the + same way. She has a heart as big as the Mississippi, and I assure you, + Miss Louder, you won't make her happy, but miserable, if you try to dam up + its channel. She has often told me that she loved the building and all the + people in it. They all love her. I HOPE, Miss Louder, you'll think of + those things before you decide. She is so unselfish that she would go in a + minute if she thought it would make you happier.” The angel aforesaid, + during this speech (which Harry delivered with great energy and feeling), + must have had all his wits busy on Tilly's impassive features; but he + could read ardent approval, succeeded by indignation, on Alma's + countenance, at his first glance. The indignation came when Tilly spoke. + She said: “Thank you, Mr. Lossing, you're very kind, I'm sure”—Harry + softly kicked the wastebasket under the desk—“but I guess it's best + for us to go. I've been thinking about it for six months, and I know it + will be a hard struggle for mother to go; but in a little while she will + be glad she went. It's only for her sake I am doing it; it ain't an easy + or a pleasant thing for me to do, either——” As Tilly stopped + her voice was unsteady, and the rare tears shone in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “What's best for her is the only question, of course,” said Alma, helping + Harry off the field. + </p> + <p> + In a few days Tilly received a long letter from her mother. Mr. Ferguson + was doing wonders for the Russians; the family were all very kind to her + and “nice folks” and easily pleased. (“Of COURSE they're pleased with + mother's cooking; what would they be made of if they weren't!” cried + Tilly.) It was wonderful how much help Mrs. Higbee was about the house, + and how happy it made her. Mrs. Ferguson had seemed real glad to see her, + and that made her happy. And then, maybe it helped a little, her (Jane + Louder's) telling Mrs. Ferguson (“accidental like”) how Tilly treated her, + never trying to boss her, and letting her travel alone. Perhaps, if Mrs. + Ferguson kept on improving, they might let her come home next week. And + the letter ended: + </p> + <p> + “I will be so glad if they do, for I want to see you so bad, dear + daughter, and I want to see the old home once more before we leave. I + guess the house you tell me about will be very nice and convenient. I do + thank you, dear daughter, for being so nice and considerate about the + Russians. Give my love to Mrs. Carleton and all of them; and if little + Bobby Green hasn't missed school since I left, give him a nickel, please; + and please give that medical student on the fifth floor—I forget his + name—the stockings I mended. They are in the first drawer of the + walnut bureau. Good-by, my dear, good daughter. + </p> + <p> + “MOTHER, JANE M. LOUDER.” + </p> + <p> + When Tilly read the letter she was surrounded by wall-paper and carpet + samples. Her eyes grew moist before she laid it down; but she set her + mouth more firmly. + </p> + <p> + “It is an awful short time, but I've just got to hurry and have it over + before she comes,” said she. + </p> + <p> + Next week Jane returned. She was on the train, waiting in her seat in the + car, when Captain Ferguson handed her Tilly's last letter, which had lain + in the post-office for three days. + </p> + <p> + It was very short: + </p> + <p> + “DEAR MOTHER: I shall be very glad indeed to see you. I have a surprise + which I hope will be pleasant for you; anyhow, I truly have meant it for + your happiness. + </p> + <p> + “Your affectionate daughter, + </p> + <p> + “M. E. LOUDER.” + </p> + <p> + There must have been, despite her shrewd sense, an obtuse streak in Tilly, + else she would never have written that letter. Jane read it twice. The + paper rattled in her hands. “Tilly has moved while I was gone,” she said; + “I never shall live in the block again.” She dropped her veil over her + face. She sat very quietly in her seat; but the conductor who came for her + ticket watched her sharply, she seemed so dazed by his demand and was so + long in finding the ticket. + </p> + <p> + The train rumbled and hissed through darkening cornfields, into scattered + yellow lights of low houses, into angles of white light of street-arcs and + shop-windows, into the red and blue lights dancing before the engines in + the station. + </p> + <p> + “Mother!” cried Tilly's voice. + </p> + <p> + Jane let her and Harry Lossing take all her bundles and lift her out of + the car. Whether she spoke a word she could not tell. She did rouse a + little at the vision of the Lossing carriage glittering at the street + corner; but she had not the sense to thank Harry Lossing, who placed her + in the carriage and lifted his hat in farewell. + </p> + <p> + “What's he doing all that for, Tilly?” cried she; “there ain't—there + ain't nobody dead—Maria Carleton———” She stared at + Tilly wildly. + </p> + <p> + Tilly was oddly moved, though she tried to speak lightly. “No, no, there + ain't nothing wrong, at all. It's because you've done so much for the + Russians—and other folks! Now, ma, I'm going to be mysterious. You + must shut your eyes and shut your mouth until I tell you. That's a dear + ma.” + </p> + <p> + It was vaguely comforting to have Tilly so affectionate. “I'm a wicked, + ungrateful woman to be so wretched,” thought Jane; “I'll never let Tilly + know how I felt.” + </p> + <p> + In a surprisingly short time the carriage stopped. “Now, ma,” said Tilly. + </p> + <p> + A great blaze of light seemed all about Jane Louder. There were the dear + familiar windows of the Lossing block. + </p> + <p> + “Come up-stairs, ma,” said Tilly. + </p> + <p> + She followed like one in a dream; and like one in a dream she was pushed + into her own old parlor. The old parlor, but not quite the old parlor; + hung with new wall-paper, shining with new paint, soft under her feet with + a new carpet, it looked to Jane Louder like fairyland. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Tilly,” she gasped; “oh, Tilly, ain't you moved?” + </p> + <p> + “No, nor we ain't going to move, ma—that's the surprise! I took the + money I'd saved for moving, for the new carpet and new dishes; and the + Lossings they papered and painted. I was SO 'fraid we couldn't get done in + time. Alma and all the boarders are coming in pretty soon to welcome you, + and they've all chipped in for a little banquet at Mrs. Carleton's—why, + mother, you're crying! Mother, you didn't really think I'd move when it + made you feel so bad? I know I'm set and stubborn, and I didn't take it + well when Mr. Lossing talked to me; but the more I thought it over, the + more I seemed to myself like that hateful Minnie. Oh, mother, I ain't, am + I? You shall do just exactly as you like all the days of your life!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + AN ASSISTED PROVIDENCE + </h2> + <p> + IT was the Christmas turkeys that should be held responsible. Every year + the Lossings give each head of a family in their employ, and each lad + helping to support his mother, a turkey at Christmastide. As the business + has grown, so has the number of turkeys, until it is now well up in the + hundreds, and requires a special contract. Harry, one Christmas, some two + years ago, bought the turkeys at so good a bargain that he felt the + natural reaction in an impulse to extravagance. In the very flood-tide of + the money-spending yearnings, he chanced to pass Deacon Hurst's stables + and to see two Saint Bernard puppies, of elephantine size but of the + tenderest age, gambolling on the sidewalk before the office. Deacon Hurst, + I should explain, is no more a deacon than I am; he is a livery-stable + keeper, very honest, a keen and solemn sportsman, and withal of a staid + demeanor and a habitual garb of black. Now you know as well as I any + reason for his nickname. + </p> + <p> + Deacon Hurst is fond of the dog as well as of that noble animal the horse + (he has three copies of “Black Beauty” in his stable, which would do an + incalculable amount of good if they were ever read!); and he usually has + half a dozen dogs of his own, with pedigrees long enough for a poor + gentlewoman in a New England village. He told Harry that the Saint + Bernards were grandsons of Sir Bevidere, the “finest dog of his time in + the world, sir;” that they were perfectly marked and very large for their + age (which Harry found it easy to believe of the young giants), and that + they were “ridiculous, sir, at the figger of two hundred and fifty!” + (which Harry did not believe so readily); and, after Harry had admired and + studied the dogs for the space of half an hour, he dropped the price, in a + kind of spasm of generosity, to two hundred dollars. Harry was tempted to + close the bargain on the spot, hot-headed, but he decided to wait and + prepare his mother for such a large addition to the stable. + </p> + <p> + The more he dwelt on the subject the more he longed to buy the dogs. + </p> + <p> + In fact, a time comes to every healthy man when he wants a dog, just as a + time comes when he wants a wife; and Harry's dog was dead. By consequence, + Harry was in the state of sensitive affection and desolation to which a + promising new object makes the most moving appeal. The departed dog (Bruce + by name) had been a Saint Bernard; and Deacon Hurst found one of the + puppies to have so much the expression of countenance of the late Bruce + that he named him Bruce on the spot—a little before Harry joined the + group. Harry did not at first recognize this resemblance, but he grew to + see it; and, combined with the dog's affectionate disposition, it softened + his heart. By the time he told his mother he was come to quoting Hurst's + adjectives as his own. + </p> + <p> + “Beauties, mother,” says Harry, with sparkling eyes; “the markings are + perfect—couldn't be better; and their heads are shaped just right! + You can't get such watch-dogs in the world! And, for all their enormous + strength, gentle as a lamb to women and children! And, mother, one of them + looks like Bruce!” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose they would want to be housedogs,” says Mrs. Lossing, a little + dubiously, but looking fondly at Harry's handsome face; “you know, + somehow, all our dogs, no matter how properly they start in a kennel, end + by being so hurt if we keep them there that they come into the house. And + they are so large, it is like having a pet lion about.” + </p> + <p> + “These dogs, mother, shall never put a paw in the house.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I hope just as I get fond of them they will not have the distemper + and die!” said Mrs. Lossing; which speech Harry rightly took for the white + flag of surrender. + </p> + <p> + That evening he went to find Hurst and clinch the bargain. As it happened, + Hurst was away, driving an especially important political personage to an + especially important political council. The day following was a Sunday; + but, by this time, Harry was so bent upon obtaining the dogs that he had + it in mind to go to Hurst's house for them in the afternoon. When Harry + wants anything, from Saint Bernards to purity in politics, he wants it + with an irresistible impetus! If he did wrong, his error was linked to its + own punishment. But this is anticipating, if not presuming; I prefer to + leave Harry Lossing's experience to paint its own moral without pushing. + The event that happened next was Harry's pulling out his check-book and + beginning to write a check, remarking, with a slight drooping of his + eyelids, “Best catch the deacon's generosity on the fly, or it may make a + home run!” + </p> + <p> + Then he let the pen fall on the blotter, for he had remembered the day. + After an instant's hesitation he took a couple of hundred-dollar + bank-notes out of a drawer (I think they were gifts for his two sisters on + Christmas day, for he is a generous brother; and most likely there would + be some small domestic joke about engravings to go with them); these he + placed in the right-hand pocket of his waistcoat. In his left-hand + waistcoat pocket were two five-dollar notes. + </p> + <p> + Harry was now arrayed for church. He was a figure to please any woman's + eye, thought his mother, as she walked beside him, and gloried silently in + his six feet of health and muscle and dainty cleanliness. He was in a most + amiable mood, what with the Saint Bernards and the season. As they + approached the cathedral close, Harry, not for the first time, admired the + pure Gothic lines of the cathedral, and the soft blending of grays in the + stone with the warmer hues of the brown network of Virginia creeper that + still fluttered, a remnant of the crimson adornings of autumn. Beyond were + the bare, square outlines of the old college, with a wooden cupola perched + on the roof, like a little hat on a fat man, the dull-red tints of the + professors' houses, and the withered lawns and bare trees. The turrets and + balconies and arched windows of the boys' school displayed a red + background for a troop of gray uniforms and blazing buttons; the boys were + forming to march to church. Opposite the boys' school stood the modest + square brick house that had served the first bishop of the diocese during + laborious years. Now it was the dean's residence. Facing it, just as you + approached the cathedral, the street curved into a half-circle on either + side, and in the centre the granite soldier on his shaft looked over the + city that would honor him. Harry saw the tall figure of the dean come out + of his gate, the long black skirts of his cassock fluttering under the + wind of his big steps. Beside him skipped and ran, to keep step with him, + a little man in ill-fitting black, of whose appearance, thus viewed from + the rear, one could only observe stooping shoulders and iron-gray hair + that curled at the ends. + </p> + <p> + “He must be the poor missionary who built his church himself,” Mrs. + Lossing observed; “he is not much of a preacher, the dean said, but he is + a great worker and a good pastor.” + </p> + <p> + “So much the better for his people, and the worse for us!” says Harry, + cheerfully. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Naturally. We shall get the poor sermon and they will get the good + pastoring!” + </p> + <p> + Then Harry caught sight of a woman's frock and a profile that he knew, and + thought no more of the preacher, whoever he might be. + </p> + <p> + But he was in the chancel in plain view, after the procession of + choir-boys had taken their seats. He was an elderly man with thin cheeks + and a large nose. He had one of those great, orotund voices that + occasionally roll out of little men, and he read the service with a + misjudged effort to fill the building. The building happened to have + peculiarly fine acoustic properties; but the unfortunate man roared like + him of Bashan. There was nothing of the customary ecclesiastical dignity + and monotony about his articulation; indeed, it grew plain and plainer to + Harry that he must have “come over” from some franker and more emotional + denomination. It seemed quite out of keeping with his homely manner and + crumpled surplice that this particular reader should intone. Intone, + nevertheless, he did; and as badly as mortal man well could! It was not so + much that his voice or his ear went wrong; he would have had a musical + voice of the heavy sort, had he not bellowed; neither did his ear betray + him; the trouble seemed to be that he could not decide when to begin; now + he began too early, and again, with a startled air, he began too late, as + if he had forgotten. + </p> + <p> + “I hope he will not preach,” thought Harry, who was absorbed in a rapt + contemplation of his sweetheart's back hair. He came back from a tender + revery (by way of a little detour into the furniture business and the + establishment that a man of his income could afford) to the church and the + preacher and his own sins, to find the strange clergyman in the pulpit, + plainly frightened, and bawling more loudly than ever under the influence + of fear. He preached a sermon of wearisome platitudes; making up for lack + of thought by repetition, and shouting himself red in the face to express + earnestness. “Fourth-class Methodist effort,” thought the listener in the + Lossing pew, stroking his fair mustache, “with Episcopal decorations! That + man used to be a Methodist minister, and he was brought into the fold by a + high-churchman. Poor fellow, the Methodist church polity has a place for + such fellows as he; but he is a stray sheep with us. He doesn't half catch + on to the motions; yet I'll warrant he is proud of that sermon, and his + wife thinks it one of the great efforts of the century.” Here Harry took a + short rest from the sermon, to contemplate the amazing moral phenomenon: + how robust can be a wife's faith in a commonplace husband! + </p> + <p> + “Now, this man,” reflected Harry, growing interested in his own fancies, + “this man never can have LIVED! He doesn't know what it is to suffer, he + has only vegetated! Doubtless, in a prosaic way, he loves his wife and + children; but can a fellow who talks like him have any delicate sympathies + or any romance about him? He looks honest; I think he is a right good + fellow and works like a soldier; but to be so stupid as he is, ought to + HURT!” + </p> + <p> + Harry felt a whimsical moving of sympathy towards the preacher. He + wondered why he continually made gestures with the left arm, never with + his right. + </p> + <p> + “It gives a one-sided effect to his eloquence,” said he. But he thought + that he understood when an unguarded movement revealed a rent which had + been a mended place in the surplice. + </p> + <p> + “Poor fellow,” said Harry. He recalled how, as a boy, he had gone to a + fancy-dress ball in Continental smallclothes, so small that he had been + strictly cautioned by his mother and sisters not to bow except with the + greatest care, lest he rend his magnificence and reveal that it was too + tight to allow an inch of underclothing. The stockings, in particular, had + been short, and his sister had providently sewed them on to the + knee-breeches, and to guard against accidents still further, had pinned as + well as sewed, the pins causing Harry much anguish. + </p> + <p> + “Poor fellow!” said Harry again, “I wonder is HE pinned somewhere? I feel + like giving him a lift; he is so prosy it isn't likely anyone else will + feel moved to help.” + </p> + <p> + Thus it came about that when the dean announced that the alms this day + would be given to the parish of our friend who had just addressed us; and + the plate paused before the Lossing pew, Harry slipped his hand into his + waistcoat pocket after those two five-dollar notes. + </p> + <p> + I should explain that Harry being a naturally left-handed boy, who has + laboriously taught himself the use of his right hand, it is a family joke + that he is like the inhabitants of Nineveh, who could not tell their right + hand from their left. But Harry himself has always maintained that he can + tell as well as the next man. + </p> + <p> + Out drifted the flock of choir-boys singing, “For thee, oh dear, dear + country,” and presently, following them, out drifted the congregation; + among the crowd the girl that Harry loved, not so quickly that he had not + time for a look and a smile (just tinged with rose); and because she was + so sweet, so good, so altogether adorable, and because she had not only + smiled but blushed, and, unobserved, he had touched the fur of her jacket, + the young man walked on air. + </p> + <p> + He did not remember the Saint Bernards until after the early Sunday + dinner, and during the after-dinner cigar. He was sitting in the library, + before some blazing logs, at peace with all the world. To him, thus, came + his mother and announced that the dean and “that man who preached this + morning, you know,” were waiting in the other room. + </p> + <p> + “They seem excited,” said she, “and talk about your munificence. What HAVE + you been doing?” + </p> + <p> + “Appear to make a great deal of fuss over ten dollars,” said Harry, + lightly, as he sauntered out of the door. + </p> + <p> + The dean greeted him with something almost like confusion in his + cordiality; he introduced his companion as the Rev. Mr. Gilling. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Gilling could not feel easy until he had——” + </p> + <p> + “Made sure about there being no mistake,” interrupted Mr. Gilling; “I—the + sum was so great———” + </p> + <p> + A ghastly suspicion shot like a fever-flush over Harry's mind. Could it be + possible? There were the two other bills; could he have given one of them? + Given that howling dervish a hundred dollars? The thought was too awful! + </p> + <p> + “It was really not enough for you to trouble yourself,” he said; “I dare + say you are thanking the wrong man.” He felt he must say something. + </p> + <p> + To his surprise the dean colored, while the other clergyman answered, in + all simplicity: + </p> + <p> + “No, sir, no, sir. I know very well. The only other bill, except dollars, + on the plate, the dean here gave, and the warden remembers that you put in + two notes—I”—he grew quite pale—“I can't help thinking + you maybe intended to put in only ONE!” His voice broke, he tried to + control it. “The sum is so VERY large!” quavered he. + </p> + <p> + “I have given him BOTH bills, two hundred dollars!” thought Harry. He sat + down. He was accustomed to read men's faces, and plainly as ever he had + read, he could read the signs of distress and conflict on the prosaic, + dull features before him. + </p> + <p> + “I INTENDED to put in two bills,” said he. Gilling gave a little gasp—so + little, only a quick ear could have caught it; but Harry's ear is quick. + He twisted one leg around the other, a further sign of deliverance of + mind. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, well, Mr. Lossing,” he remarked, clearing his throat, “I + cannot express to you properly the—the appreciation I have of your—your + PRINCELY gift!” (Harry changed a groan into a cough and tried to smile.) + “I would like to ask you, however, HOW you would like it to be divided. + There are a number of worthy causes: the furnishing of the church, which + is in charge of the Ladies' Aid Society; they are very hard workers, the + ladies of our church. And there is the Altar Guild, which has the keeping + of the altar in order. They are mostly young girls, and they used to wash + my things—I mean the vestments” (blushing)—“but they—they + were so young they were not careful, and my wife thought she had best wash + the—vestments herself, but she allowed them to laundry the other—ah, + things.” There was the same discursiveness in his talk as in his sermon, + Harry thought; and the same uneasy restlessness of manner. “Then, we give + to—various causes, and—and there is, also, my own salary——” + </p> + <p> + “That is what it was intended for,” said Harry. “I hope the two hundred + dollars will be of some use to you, and then, indirectly, it will help + your church.” + </p> + <p> + Harry surprised a queer glance from the dean's brown eyes; there was both + humor and a something else that was solemn enough in it. The dean had + believed that there was a mistake. + </p> + <p> + “All of it! To ME!” cried Gilling. + </p> + <p> + “All of it. To YOU,” Harry replied, dryly. He was conscious of the dean's + gaze upon him. “I had a sudden impulse,” said he, “and I gave it; that is + all.” + </p> + <p> + The tears rose to the clergyman's eyes; he tried to wink them away, then + he tried to brush them away with a quick rub of his fingers, then he + sprang up and walked to the window, his back to Harry. Directly he was + facing the young man again, and speaking. + </p> + <p> + “You must excuse me, Mr. Lossing; since my sickness a little thing upsets + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Gilling had diphtheria last spring,” the dean struck in, “there was + an epidemic of diphtheria, in Matin's Junction; Mr. Gilling really saved + the place; but his wife and he both contracted the disease, and his wife + nearly died.” + </p> + <p> + Harry remembered some story that he had heard at the time—his eyes + began to light up as they do when he is moved. + </p> + <p> + “Why, YOU are the man that made them disinfect their houses,” cried he, + “and invented a little oven or something to steam mattresses and things. + You are the man that nursed them and buried them when the undertaker died. + You digged graves with your own hands—I say, I should like to shake + hands with you!” + </p> + <p> + Gilling shook hands, submissively, but looking bewildered. + </p> + <p> + He cleared his throat. “Would you mind, Mr. Lossing, if I took up your + time so far as to tell you what so overcame me?” + </p> + <p> + “I should be glad——” + </p> + <p> + “You see, sir, my wife was the daughter of the Episcopal minister—I + mean the rector, at the town—well, it wasn't a town, it was two or + three towns off in Shelby County where I had my circuit. You may be + surprised, sir, to know that I was once a Methodist minister.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible?” said Harry. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. Her father—my wife's, I mean—was about as high a + churchman as he could be, and be married. He induced me to join our + communion; and very soon after I was married. I hope, Mr. Lossing, you'll + come and see us some time, and see my wife. She—are you married?” + </p> + <p> + “I am not so fortunate.” + </p> + <p> + “A good wife cometh from the Lord, sir, SURE! I thought I appreciated + mine, but I guess I didn't. She had two things she wanted, and one I did + want myself; but the other—I couldn't seem to bring my mind to it, + no—anyhow! We hadn't any children but one that died four years ago, + a little baby. Ever since she died my wife has had a longing to have a + stained-glass window, with the picture, you know, of Christ blessing + little children, put into our little church. In Memoriam, you know. Seems + as if, now we've lost the baby, we think all the more of the church. Maybe + she was a sort of idol to us. Yes, sir, that's one thing my wife fairly + longed for. We've saved our money, what we COULD save; there are so many + calls; during the sickness, last winter, the sick needed so many things, + and it didn't seem right for us to neglect them just for our baby's + window; and—the money went. The other thing was different. My wife + has got it into her head I have a fine voice. And she's higher church than + I am; so she has always wanted me to INTONE. I told her I'd look like a + fool intoning, and there's no mistake about it, I DO! But she couldn't see + it that way. It was 'most the only point wherein we differed; and last + spring, when she was so sick, and I didn't know but I'd lose her, it was + dreadful to me to think how I'd crossed her. So, Mr. Lossing, when she got + well I promised her, for a thank-offering, I'd intone. And I have ever + since. My people know me so well, and we've been through so much together, + that they didn't make any fuss—though they are not high—fact + is, I'm not high myself. But they were kind and considerate, and I got on + pretty well at home; but when I came to rise up in that great edifice, + before that cultured and intellectual audience, so finely dressed, it did + seem to me I could NOT do it! I was sorely tempted to break my promise. I + was, for a fact.” He drew a long breath. “I just had to pray for grace, or + I never would have pulled through. I had the sermon my wife likes best + with me; but I know it lacks—it lacks—it isn't what you need! + I was dreadfully scared and I felt miserable when I got up to preach it—and + then to think that you were—but it is the Lord's doing and + marvellous in our eyes! I don't know what Maggie will say when I tell her + we can get the window. The best she hoped was I'd bring back enough so the + church could pay me eighteen dollars they owe on my salary. And now—it's + wonderful! Why, Mr. Lossing, I've been thinking so much and wanting so to + get that window for her, that, hearing the dean wanted some car-pentering + done, I thought maybe, as I'm a fair carpenter—that was my trade + once, sir—I'd ask him to let ME do the job. I was aware there is + nothing in our rules—I mean our canons—to prevent me, and + nobody need know I was the rector of Matin's Junction, because I would + come just in my overalls. There is a cheap place where I could lodge, and + I could feed myself for almost nothing, living is so cheap. I was praying + about that, too. Now, your noble generosity will enable me to donate what + they owe on my salary, and get the window too!” + </p> + <p> + “Take my advice,” said Harry, “donate nothing. Say nothing about this + gift; I will take care of the warden, and I can answer for the dean.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the dean, “on the whole, Gilling, you would better say + nothing, I think; Mr. Lossing is more afraid of a reputation for + generosity than of the small-pox.” + </p> + <p> + The older man looked at Harry with glistening eyes of admiration; with + what Christian virtues of humility he was endowing that embarrassed young + man, it is painful to imagine. + </p> + <p> + The dean's eyes twinkled above his handkerchief, which hid his mouth, as + he rose to make his farewells. He shook hands, warmly. “God bless you, + Harry,” said he. Gilling, too, wrung Harry's hands; he was seeking some + parting word of gratitude, but he could only choke out, “I hope you will + get MARRIED some time, Mr. Lossing, then you'll understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Harry, as the door closed, and he flung out his arms and his + chest in a huge sigh, “I do believe it was better than the puppies!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + HARRY LOSSING + </h2> + <p> + THE note-book of Mr. Horatio Armorer, president of our street railways, + contained a page of interest to some people in our town, on the occasion + of his last visit. + </p> + <p> + He wrote it while the train creaked over the river, and the porter of his + Pullman car was brushing all the dust that had been distributed on the + passengers' clothing, into the main aisle. + </p> + <p> + If you had seen him writing it (with a stubby little pencil that he + occasionally brightened with the tip of his tongue), you would not have + dreamed him to be more profoundly disturbed than he had been in years. Nor + would the page itself have much enlightened you. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “<i>See abt road M— D— See L + See E & M tea-set + See abt L</i>.” + </pre> + <p> + Translated into long-hand, this reads: “See about the street-car road, + Marston (the superintendent) and Dane (the lawyer). See Lossing, see + Esther and Maggie, and remember about tea-set. See about Lossing.” + </p> + <p> + His memoranda written, he slipped the book in his pocket, reflecting + cynically, “There's habit! I've no need of writing that. It's not pleasant + enough to forget!” + </p> + <p> + Thirty odd years ago, Horatio Armorer—they called him 'Raish, then—had + left the town to seek his fortune in Chicago. It was his daydream to + wrestle a hundred thousand dollars out of the world's tight fists, and + return to live in pomp on Brady Street hill! He should drive a buggy with + two horses, and his wife should keep two girls. Long ago, the hundred + thousand limit had been reached and passed, next the million; and still he + did not return. His father, the Presbyterian minister, left his parish, + or, to be exact, was gently propelled out of his parish by the + disaffected; the family had a new home; and the son, struggling to help + them out of his scanty resources, went to the new parish and not to the + old. He grew rich, he established his brothers and sisters in prosperity, + he erected costly monuments and a memorial church to his parents (they + were beyond any other gifts from him); he married, and lavished his money + on three daughters; but the home of his youth neither saw him nor his + money until Margaret Ellis bought a house on Brady Street, far up town, + where she could have all the grass that she wanted. Mrs. Ellis was a widow + and rich. Not a millionaire like her brother, but the possessor of a + handsome property. + </p> + <p> + She was the best-natured woman in the world, and never guessed how hard + her neighbors found it to forgive her for always calling their town of + thirty thousand souls, “the country.” She said that she had pined for + years to live in the country, and have horses, and a Jersey cow and + chickens, and “a neat pig.” All of which modest cravings she gratified on + her little estate; and the gardener was often seen with a scowl and the + garden hose, keeping the pig neat. + </p> + <p> + It was later that Mr. Armorer had bought the street railways, they having + had a troublous history and being for sale cheap. Nobody that knows + Armorer as a business man would back his sentiment by so much as an old + shoe; yet it was sentiment, and not a good bargain, that had enticed the + financier. Once engaged, the instincts of a shrewd trader prompted him to + turn it into a good bargain, anyhow. His fancy was pleased by a vision of + a return to the home of his childhood and his struggling youth, as a + greater personage than his hopes had ever dared promise. + </p> + <p> + But, in the event, there was little enough gratification for his vanity. + Not since his wife's death had he been so harassed and anxious; for he + came not in order to view his new property, but because his sister had + written him her suspicions that Harry Lossing wanted to marry his youngest + daughter. + </p> + <p> + Armorer arrived in the early dawn. Early as it was, a handsome victoria, + with horses sleeker of skin and harness heavier and brighter than one is + used to meet outside the great cities, had been in waiting for twenty + minutes; while for that space of time a pretty girl had paced up and down + the platform. The keenest observer among the crowd, airing its meek + impatience on the platform, did not detect any sign of anxiety in her + behavior. She walked erect, with a step that left a clean-cut footprint in + the dust, as girls are trained to walk nowadays. Her tailor-made gown of + fine blue serge had not a wrinkle. It was so simple that only a + fashionable woman could guess anywhere near the awful sum total which that + plain skirt, that short jacket, and that severe waistcoat had once made on + a ruled sheet of paper. When she turned her face toward the low, red + station-house and the people, it looked gentle, and the least in the world + sad. She had one of those clear olive skins that easily grow pale; it was + pale to-day. Her black hair was fine as spun silk; the coil under her + hat-brim shone as she moved. The fine hair, the soft, transparent skin, + and the beautiful marking of her brows were responsible for an air of + fragile daintiness in her person, just as her almond-shaped, liquid dark + eyes and unsmiling mouth made her look sad. It was a most attractive face, + in all its moods; sometimes it was a beautiful face; yet it did not have a + single perfect feature except the mouth, which—at least so Harry + Lossing told his mother—might have been stolen from the Venus of + Milo. Even the mouth, some critics called too small for her nose; but it + is as easy to call her nose too large for her mouth. + </p> + <p> + The instant she turned her back on the bustle of the station, all the + lines in her face seemed to waver and the eyes to brighten. Finally, when + the train rolled up to the platform and a young-looking elderly man swung + himself nimbly off the steps, the color flared up in her cheeks, only to + sink as suddenly; like a candle flame in a gust of wind. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Armorer put his two arms and his umbrella and travelling-bag about the + charming shape in blue, at the same time exclaiming, “You're a good girl + to come out so early, Essie! How's Aunt Meg?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, very well. She would have come too, but she hasn't come back from + training.” + </p> + <p> + “Training?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear, she has a regular trainer, like John L. Sullivan, you know. + She drives out to the park with Eliza and me, and walks and runs races, + and does gymnastics. She has lost ten pounds.” + </p> + <p> + Armorer wagged his head with a grin: “I dare say. I thought so when you + began. Meg is always moaning and groaning because she isn't a sylph! She + will make her cook's life a burden for about two months and lose ten + pounds, and then she will revel in ice-cream! Last time, she was raving + about Dr. Salisbury and living on beefsteak sausages, spending a fortune + starving herself.” + </p> + <p> + “She had Dr. Salisbury's pamphlet; but Cardigan told her it was a long way + out; so she said she hated to have it do no one any good, and she gave it + to Maria, one of the maids, who is always fretting because she is so + thin.” + </p> + <p> + “But the thing was to cure fat people!” + </p> + <p> + “Precisely.” Esther laughed a little low laugh, at which her father's eyes + shone; “but you see she told Maria to exactly reverse the advice and eat + everything that was injurious to stout people, and it would be just right + for her.” + </p> + <p> + “I perceive,” said Armorer, dryly; “very ingenious and feminine scheme. + But who is Cardigan?” + </p> + <p> + “Shuey Cardigan? He is the trainer. He is a fireman in a furniture shop, + now; but he used to be the boxing teacher for some Harvard men; and he was + a distinguished pugilist, once. He said to me, modestly, 'I don't suppose + you will have seen my name in the <i>Police Gazette</i>, miss?' But he + really is a very sober, decent man, notwithstanding.” + </p> + <p> + “Your Aunt Meg always was picking up queer birds! Pray, who introduced + this decent pugilist?” + </p> + <p> + Esther was getting into the carriage; her face was turned from him, but he + could see the pink deepen in her ear and the oval of her cheek. She + answered that it was a friend of theirs, Mr. Lossing. As if the name had + struck them both dumb, neither spoke for a few moments. Armorer bit a sigh + in two. “Essie,” said he, “I guess it is no use to side-track the subject. + You know why I came here, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Meg told me what she wrote to you.” + </p> + <p> + “I knew she would. She had compunctions of conscience letting him hang + round you, until she told me; and then she had awful gripes because she + had told, and had to confess to YOU!” + </p> + <p> + He continued in a different tone: “Essie, I have missed your mother a long + while, and nobody knows how that kind of missing hurts; but it seems to me + I never missed her as I do to-day. I need her to advise me about you, + Essie. It is like this: I don't want to be a stern parent any more than + you want to elope on a rope ladder. We have got to look at this thing + together, my dear little girl, and try to—to trust each other.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you think, papa,” said Esther, smiling rather tremulously, “that we + would better wait, before we have all these solemn preparations, until we + know surely whether Mr. Lossing wants me?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you know surely?” + </p> + <p> + “He has never said anything of—of that—kind.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he is in love with you fast enough,” growled Armorer; but a smile of + intense relief brightened his face. “Now, you see, my dear, all I know + about this young man, except that he wants my daughter—which you + will admit is not likely to prejudice me in his favor—is that he is + mayor of this town and has a furniture store——” + </p> + <p> + “A manufactory; it is a very large business!” + </p> + <p> + “All right, manufactory, then; all the same he is not a brilliant match + for my daughter, not such a husband as your sisters have.” Esther's lip + quivered and her color rose again; but she did not speak. “Still I will + say that I think a fellow who can make his own fortune is better than a + man with twice that fortune made for him. My dear, if Lossing has the + right stuff in him and he is a real good fellow, I shan't make you go into + a decline by objecting; but you see it is a big shock to me, and you must + let me get used to it, and let me size the young man up in my own way. + There is another thing, Esther; I am going to Europe Thursday, that will + give me just a day in Chicago if I go to-morrow, and I wish you would come + with me. Will you mind?” + </p> + <p> + Either she changed her seat or she started at the proposal. But how could + she say that she wanted to stay in America with a man who had not said a + formal word of love to her? “I can get ready, I think, papa,” said Esther. + </p> + <p> + They drove on. He felt a crawling pain in his heart, for he loved his + daughter Esther as he had loved no other child of his; and he knew that he + had hurt her. Naturally, he grew the more angry at the impertinent young + man who was the cause of the flitting; for the whole European plan had + been cooked up since the receipt of Mrs. Ellis's letter. They were on the + very street down which he used to walk (for it takes the line of the + hills) when he was a poor boy, a struggling, ferociously ambitious young + man. He looked at the changed rows of buildings, and other thoughts came + uppermost for a moment. “It was here father's church used to stand; it's + gone, now,” he said. “It was a wood church, painted a kind of gray; mother + had a bonnet the same color, and she used to say she matched the church. I + bought it with the very first money I earned. Part of it came from + weeding, and the weather was warm, and I can feel the way my back would + sting and creak, now! I would want to stop, often, but I thought of mother + in church with that bonnet, and I kept on! There's the place where Seeds, + the grocer that used to trust us, had his store; it was his children had + the scarlet fever, and mother went to nurse them. My! but how dismal it + was at home! We always got more whippings when mother was away. Your + grandfather was a good man, too honest for this world, and he loved every + one of his seven children; but he brought us up to fear him and the Lord. + We feared him the most, because the Lord couldn't whip us! He never + whipped us when we did anything, but waited until next day, that he might + not punish in anger; so we had all the night to anticipate it. Did I ever + tell you of the time he caught me in a lie? I was lame for a week after + it. He never caught me in another lie.” + </p> + <p> + “I think he was cruel; I can't help it, papa,” cried Esther, with whom + this was an old argument, “still it did good, that time!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, he wasn't cruel, my dear,” said Armorer, with a queer smile that + seemed to take only one-half of his face, not answering the last words; + “he was too sure of his interpretation of the Scripture, that was all. + Why, that man just slaved to educate us children; he'd have gone to the + stake rejoicing to have made sure that we should be saved. And of the + whole seven only one is a church member. Is that the road?” + </p> + <p> + They could see a car swinging past, on a parallel street, its bent pole + hitching along the trolley-wire. + </p> + <p> + “Pretty scrubby-looking cars,” commented Armorer; “but get our new + ordinance through the council, we can save enough to afford some fine new + cars. Has Lossing said anything to you about the ordinance and our + petition to be allowed to leave off the conductors?” + </p> + <p> + “He hasn't said anything, but I read about it in the papers. Is it so very + important that it should be passed?” + </p> + <p> + “Saving money is always important, my dear,” said Armorer, seriously. + </p> + <p> + The horses turned again. They were now opposite a fair lawn and a house of + wood and stone built after the old colonial pattern, as modern architects + see it. Esther pointed, saying: + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Meg's, papa; isn't it pretty?” + </p> + <p> + “Very handsome, very fine,” said the financier, who knew nothing about + architecture, except its exceeding expense. “Esther, I've a notion; if + that young man of yours has brains and is fond of you he ought to be able + to get my ordinance through his little eight by ten city council. There is + our chance to see what stuff he is made of!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he has a great deal of influence,” said Esther; “he can do it, unless—unless + he thinks the ordinance would be bad for the city, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Confound the modern way of educating girls!” thought Armorer. “Now, it + would have been enough for Esther's mother to know that anything was for + my interests; it wouldn't have to help all out-doors, too!” + </p> + <p> + But instead of enlarging on this point, he went into a sketch of the + improvements the road could make with the money saved by the change, and + was waxing eloquent when a lady of a pleasant and comely face, and a trig + though not slender figure, advanced to greet them. + </p> + <p> + It was after breakfast (and the scene was the neat pig's pen, where + Armorer was displaying his ignorance of swine) that he found his first + chance to talk with his sister alone. “Oh, first, Sis,” said he, “about + your birthday, to-day; I telegraphed to Tiffany's for that silver service, + you know, that you liked, so you needn't think there's a mistake when it + comes.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, 'Raish, that gorgeous thing! I must kiss you, if Daniel does see me!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that's all right,” said Armorer, hastily, and began to talk of the + pig. Suddenly, without looking up, he dropped into the pig-pen the remark: + “I'm very much obliged to you for writing me, Meg.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know whether to feel more like a virtuous sister or a villanous + aunt,” sighed Mrs. Ellis; “things seemed to be getting on so rapidly that + it didn't seem right, Esther visiting me and all, not to give you a hint; + still, I am sure that nothing has been said, and it is horrid for Esther, + perfectly HORRID, discussing her proposals that haven't been proposed!” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want them ever to be proposed,” said Armorer, gloomily. + </p> + <p> + “I know you always said you didn't want Esther to marry; but I thought if + she fell in love with the right man—we know that marriage is a very + happy estate, sometimes, Horatio!” She sighed again. In her case it was + only the memory of happiness, for Colonel Ellis had been dead these twelve + years; but his widow mourned him still. + </p> + <p> + “If you marry the right one, maybe,” answered Armorer, grudgingly; “but + see here, Meg, Esther is different from the other girls; they got married + when Jenny was alive to look after them, and I knew the men, and they were + both big matches, you know. Then, too, I was so busy making money while + the other girls grew up that I hadn't time to get real well acquainted + with them. I don't think they ever kissed me, except when I gave them a + check. But Esther and I——” he drummed with his fingers on the + boards, his thin, keen face wearing a look that would have amazed his + business acquaintances—“you remember when her mother died, Meg? Only + fifteen, and how she took hold of things! And we have been together ever + since, and she makes me think of her grandmother and her mother both. + She's never had a wish I knew that I haven't granted—why, d—— + it! I've bought my clothes to please her——” + </p> + <p> + “That's why you are become so well-dressed, Horatio; I wondered how you + came to spruce up so!” interrupted Mrs. Ellis. + </p> + <p> + “It has been so blamed lonesome whenever she went to visit you, but yet I + wouldn't say a word because I knew what a good time she had; but if I had + known that there was a confounded, long-legged, sniffy young idiot all + that while trying to steal my daughter away from me!” In an access of + wrath at the idea Armorer wrenched off the picket that he clutched, at + which he laughed and stuck his hands in his pockets. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Meg, the papers and magazines are always howling that women won't + marry,” cried he, with a fresh sense of grievance; “now, two of my girls + have married, that's enough; there was no reason for me to expect any more + of them would! There isn't one d—— bit of need for Esther to + marry!” + </p> + <p> + “But if she loves the young fellow and he loves her, won't you let them be + happy?” + </p> + <p> + “He won't make her happy.” + </p> + <p> + “He is a very good fellow, truly and really, 'Raish. And he comes of a + good family——” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care for his family; and as to his being moral and all that, I + know several young fellows that could skin him alive in a bargain that are + moral as you please. I have been a moral man, myself. But the trouble with + this Lossing (I told Esther I didn't know anything about him, but I do), + the trouble with him is that he is chock full of all kinds of principles! + Just as father was. Don't you remember how he lost parish after parish + because he couldn't smooth over the big men in them? Lossing is every bit + as pig-headed. I am not going to have my daughter lead the kind of life my + mother did. I want a son-in-law who ain't going to think himself so much + better than I am, and be rowing me for my way of doing business. If Esther + MUST marry I'd like her to marry a man with a head on him that I can take + into business, and who will be willing to live with the old man. This + Lossing has got his notions of making a sort of Highland chief affair of + the labor question, and we should get along about as well as the Kilkenny + cats!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ellis knew more than Esther about Armorer's business methods, having + the advantage of her husband's point of view; and Colonel Ellis had kept + the army standard of honor as well as the army ignorance of business. To + counterbalance, she knew more than anyone alive what a good son and + brother Horatio had always been. But she could not restrain a smile at the + picture of the partnership. + </p> + <p> + “Precisely, you see yourself,” said Armorer. “Meg”—hesitating—“you + don't suppose it would be any use to offer Esther a cool hundred thousand + to promise to bounce this young fellow?” + </p> + <p> + “Horatio, NO!” cried Mrs. Ellis, tossing her pretty gray head indignantly; + “you'd insult her!” + </p> + <p> + “Take it the same way, eh? Well, perhaps; Essie has high-toned notions. + That's all right, it is the thing for women. Mother had them too. Look + here, Meg, I'll tell you, I want to see if this young fellow has ANY + sense! We have an ordinance that we want passed. If he will get his + council to pass it, that will show he can put his grand theories into his + pockets sometimes; and I will give him a show with Esther. If he doesn't + care enough for my girl to oblige her father, even if he doesn't please a + lot of carping roosters that want the earth for their town and would like + a street railway to be run to accommodate them and lose money for the + stockholders, well, then, you can't blame me if I don't want him! Now, + will you do one thing for me, Meg, to help me out? I don't want Lossing to + persuade Esther to commit herself; you know how, when she was a little + mite, if Esther gave her word she kept it. I want you to promise me you + won't let Esther be alone one second with young Lossing. She is going + to-morrow, but there's your whist-party to-night; I suppose he's coming? + And I want you to promise you won't let him have our address. If he treats + me square, he won't need to ask you for it. Well?” + </p> + <p> + He buttoned up his coat and folded his arms, waiting. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Ellis's sympathy had gone out to the young people as naturally as + water runs down hill; for she is of a romantic temperament, though she + doesn't dare to be weighed. But she remembered the silver service, the + coffee-pot, the tea-pot, the tray for spoons, the creamer, the hot-water + kettle, the sugar-bowl, all on a rich salver, splendid, dazzling; what + rank ingratitude it would be to oppose her generous brother! Rather sadly + she answered, but she did answer: “I'll do that much for you, 'Raish, but + I feel we're risking Esther's happiness, and I can only keep the letter of + my promise.” + </p> + <p> + “That's all I ask, my dear,” said Armorer, taking out a little shabby + note-book from his breast-pocket, and scratching out a line. The line + effaced read: + </p> + <p> + “<i>See E & M tea-set</i>.” + </p> + <p> + “The silver service was a good muzzle,” he thought. He went away for an + interview with the corporation lawyer and the superintendent of the road, + leaving Mrs. Ellis in a distraction of conscience that made her the wonder + of her servants that morning, during all the preparations for the + whist-party. She might have felt more remorseful had she guessed her + brother's real plan. He knew enough of Lossing to be assured that he would + not yield about the ordinance, which he firmly believed to be a dangerous + one for the city. He expected, he counted on the mayor's refusing his + proffers. He hoped that Esther would feel the sympathy which women give, + without question generally, to the business plans of those near and dear + to them, taking it for granted that the plans are right because they will + advantage those so near and dear. That was the beautiful and proper way + that Jenny had always reasoned; why should Jenny's daughter do otherwise? + When Harry Lossing should oppose her father and refuse to please him and + to win her, mustn't any high-spirited woman feel hurt? Certainly she must; + and he would take care to whisk her off to Europe before the young man had + a chance to make his peace! “Yes, sir,” says Armorer, to his only + confidant, “you never were a domestic conspirator before, Horatio, but you + have got it down fine! You would do for Gaboriau”—Gaboriau's novels + being the only fiction that ever Armorer read. Nevertheless, his + conscience pricked him almost as sharply as his sister's pricked her. + Consciences are queer things; like certain crustaceans, they grow shells + in spots; and, proof against moral artillery in one part, they may be soft + as a baby's cheek in another. Armorer's conscience had two sides, business + and domestic; people abused him for a business buccaneer, at the same time + his private life was pure, and he was a most tender husband and father. He + had never deceived Esther before in her life. Once he had ridden all night + in a freight-car to keep a promise that he had made the child. It hurt him + to be hoodwinking her now. But he was too angry and too frightened to cry + back. + </p> + <p> + The interview with the lawyer did not take any long time, but he spent two + hours with the superintendent of the road, who pronounced him “a little + nice fellow with no airs about him. Asked a power of questions about Harry + Lossing; guess there is something in that story about Lossing going to + marry his daughter!” + </p> + <p> + Marston drove him to Lossing's office and left him there. + </p> + <p> + He was on the ground, and Marston lifting the whip to touch the horse, + when he asked: “Say, before you go—is there any danger in leaving + off the conductors?” + </p> + <p> + Marston was raised on mules, and he could not overcome a vehement distrust + of electricity. “Well,” said he, “I guess you want the cold facts. The + children are almighty thick down on Third Street, and children are always + trying to see how near they can come to being killed, you know, sir; and + then, the old women like to come and stand on the track and ask questions + of the motorneer on the other track, so that the car coming down has a + chance to catch 'em. The two together keep the conductors on the jump!” + </p> + <p> + “Is that so?” said Armorer, musingly; “well, I guess you'd better close + with that insurance man and get the papers made out before we run the new + way.” + </p> + <p> + “If we ever do run!” muttered the superintendent to himself as he drove + away. + </p> + <p> + Armorer ran his sharp eye over the buildings of the Lossing Art Furniture + Manufacturing Company, from the ugly square brick box that was the nucleus—the + egg, so to speak—from which the great concern had been hatched, to + the handsome new structures with their great arched windows and red + mortar. “Pretty property, very pretty property,” thought Armorer; “wonder + if that story Marston tells is true!” The story was to the effect that a + few weeks before his last sickness the older Lossing had taken his son to + look at the buildings, and said, “Harry, this will all be yours before + long. It is a comfort to me to think that every workman I have is the + better, not the worse, off for my owning it; there's no blood or dirt on + my money; and I leave it to you to keep it clean and to take care of the + men as well as the business.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, wasn't he a d—— fool!” said Armorer, cheerfully, taking + out his note-book to mark. + </p> + <p> + “<i>See abt road M—D—</i>” + </p> + <p> + And he went in. Harry greeted him with exceeding cordiality and a fine + blush. Armorer explained that he had come to speak to him about the + proposed street-car ordinances; he (Armorer) always liked to deal with + principals and without formality; now, couldn't they come, representing + the city and the company, to some satisfactory compromise? Thereupon he + plunged into the statistics of the earnings and expenses of the road (with + the aid of his note-book), and made the absolute necessity of retrenchment + plain. Meanwhile, as he talked he studied the attentive listener before + him; and Harry, on his part, made quite as good use of his eyes. Armorer + saw a tall, athletic, fair young man, very carefully, almost foppishly + dressed, with bright, steady blue eyes and a firm chin, but a smile under + his mustache like a child's; it was so sunny and so quick. Harry saw a + neat little figure in a perfectly fitting gray check travelling suit, with + a rose in the buttonhole of the coat lapel. Armorer wore no jewellery + except a gold ring on the little finger of his right hand, from which he + had taken the glove the better to write. Harry knew that it was his dead + wife's wedding-ring; and noticed it with a little moving of the heart. The + face that he saw was pale but not sickly, delicate and keen. A silky brown + mustache shot with gray and a Van-dyke beard hid either the strength or + the weakness of mouth and chin. He looked at Harry with almond-shaped, + pensive dark eyes, so like the eyes that had shone on Harry's waking and + sleeping dreams for months that the young fellow felt his heart rise + again. Armorer ended by asking Harry (in his most winning manner) to help + him pull the ordinance out of the fire. “It would be,” he said, + impressively, “a favor he should not forget!” + </p> + <p> + “And you must know, Mr. Armorer,” said Harry, in a dismal tone at which + the president chuckled within, “that there is no man whose favor I would + do so much to win!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, here's your chance!” said Armorer. + </p> + <p> + Harry swung round in his chair, his clinched fists on his knee. He was + frowning with eagerness, and his eyes were like blue steel. + </p> + <p> + “See here, Mr. Armorer,” said he, “I am frank with you. I want to please + you, because I want to ask you to let me marry your daughter. But I CAN'T + please you, because I am mayor of this town, and I don't dare to let you + dismiss the conductors. I don't DARE, that's the point. We have had four + children killed on this road since electricity was put in.” + </p> + <p> + “We have had forty killed on one street railway I know; what of it? Do you + want to give up electricity because it kills children?” + </p> + <p> + “No, but look here! the conductors lessen the risk. A lady I know, only + yesterday, had a little boy going from the kindergarten home, nice little + fellow only five years old——” + </p> + <p> + “She ought to have sent a nurse with a child five years old, a baby!” + cried Armorer, warmly. + </p> + <p> + “That lady,” answered Harry, quietly, “goes without any servant at all in + order to keep her two children at the kindergarten; and the boy's elder + sister was ill at home. The boy got on the car, and when he got off at the + crossing above his house, he started to run across; the other train-car + was coming, the little fellow didn't notice, and ran to cross; he stumbled + and fell right in the path of the coming car!” + </p> + <p> + “Where was the conductor? He didn't seem much good!” + </p> + <p> + “They had left off the conductor on that line.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, did they run over the boy? Why haven't I been informed of the + accident?” + </p> + <p> + “There was no accident. A man on the front platform saw the boy fall, made + a flying leap off the moving car, fell, but scrambled up and pulled the + boy off the track. It was sickening; I thought we were both gone!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you were the man?” + </p> + <p> + “I was the man; and don't you see, Mr. Armorer, why I feel strongly on the + subject? If the conductor had been on, there wouldn't have been any + occasion for any accident.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, you may be assured that we will take precautions against any + such accidents. It is more for our interest than anyone's to guard against + them. And I have explained to you the necessity of cutting down our + expense list.” + </p> + <p> + “That is just it, you think you have to risk our lives to cut down + expenses; but we get all the risk and none of the benefits. I can't see my + way clear to helping you, sir; I wish I could.” + </p> + <p> + “Then there is nothing more to say, Mr. Lossing,” said Armorer, coldly. + “I'm sorry a mere sentiment that has no real foundation should stand in + the way of our arranging a deal that would be for the advantage of both + the city and our road.” He rose. + </p> + <p> + Harry rose also, but lifted his hand to arrest the financier. “Pardon me, + there is something else; I wouldn't mention it, but I hear you are going + to leave to-morrow and go abroad with—Miss Armorer. I am conscious I + haven't introduced myself very favorably, by refusing you a favor when I + want to ask the greatest one possible; but I hope, sir, you will not think + the less of a man because he is not willing to sacrifice the interests of + the people who trust him, to please ANYONE. I—I hope you will not + object to my asking Miss Armorer to marry me,” concluded Harry, very hot + and shaky, and forgetting the beginning of his sentences before he came to + the end. + </p> + <p> + “Does my daughter love you, do I understand, Mr. Lossing?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, sir. I wish I did.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mr. Lossing,” said Armorer, wishing that something in the young + man's confusion would not remind him of the awful moment when he asked old + Forrester for his Jenny, “I am afraid I can do nothing for you. If you + have too nice a conscience to oblige me, I am afraid it will be too nice + to let you get on in the world. Good-morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Stop a minute,” said Harry; “if it is only my ability to get on in the + world that is the trouble, I think———” + </p> + <p> + “It is your love for my daughter,” said Armorer; “if you don't love her + enough to give up a sentimental notion for her, to win her, I don't see + but you must lose her, I bid you good-morning, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Not quite yet, sir”—Harry jumped before the door; “you give me the + alternative of being what I call dishonorable or losing the woman I love!” + He pronounced the last word with a little effort and his lips closed + sharply as his teeth shut under them. “Well, I decline the alternative. I + shall try to do my duty and get the wife I want, BOTH.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you give me fair warning, don't you?” said Armorer. + </p> + <p> + Harry held out his hand, saying, “I am sorry that I detained you. I didn't + mean to be rude.” There was something boyish and simple about the action + and the tone, and Armorer laughed. As Harry attended him through the outer + office to the door, he complimented the shops. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Armorer and Mrs. Ellis have promised to give me the pleasure of + showing them to them this afternoon,” said Harry; “can't I show them and + part of our city to you, also? It has changed a good deal since you left + it.” + </p> + <p> + The remark threw Armorer off his balance; for a rejected suitor this young + man certainly kept an even mind. But he had all the helplessness of the + average American with regard to his daughter's amusements. The humor in + the situation took him; and it cannot be denied that he began to have a + vivid curiosity about Harry. In less time than it takes to read it, his + mind had swung round the circle of these various points of view, and he + had blandly accepted Harry's invitation. But he mopped a warm and furrowed + brow, outside, and drew a prodigious sigh as he opened the note-book in + his hand and crossed out, “<i>See L.</i>” “That young fellow ain't all + conscience,” said he, “not by a long shot.” + </p> + <p> + He found Mrs. Ellis very apologetic about the Lossing engagement. It was + made through the telephone; Esther had been anxious to have her father + meet Lossing; Lossing was to drive them there, and later show Mr. Armorer + the town. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Lossing is a very clever young man, very,” said Armorer, gravely, as + he went out to smoke his cigar after luncheon. He wished he had stayed, + however, when he returned to find that a visitor had called, and that this + visitor was the mother of the little boy that Harry Lossing had saved from + the car. The two women gave him the accident in full, and were lavish of + harrowing detail, including the mother's feelings. “So you see, 'Raish,” + urged Mrs. Ellis, timidly, “there is some reason for opposition to the + ordinance.” + </p> + <p> + Esther's cheeks were red and her eyes shone, but she had not spoken. Her + father put his arm around her waist and kissed her hair. “And what did you + say, Essie,” he asked, gently, “to all the criticisms?” + </p> + <p> + “I told her I thought you would find some way to protect the children even + if the conductors were taken off; you didn't enjoy the slaughter of + children any more than anyone else.” + </p> + <p> + “I guess we can fix it. Here is your young man.” + </p> + <p> + Harry drove a pair of spirited horses. He drove well, and looked both + handsome and happy. + </p> + <p> + “Did you know that lady—the mother of the boy that wasn't run over—was + coming to see my sister?” said Armorer, on the way. + </p> + <p> + “I did,” said Harry, “I sent her; I thought she could explain the reason + why I shall have to oppose the bill, better than I.” + </p> + <p> + Armorer made no reply. + </p> + <p> + At the shops he kept his eye on the young man. Harry seemed to know most + of his workmen, and had a nod or a word for all the older men. He stopped + several moments to talk with one old German who complained of everything, + but looked after Harry with a smile, nodding his head. “That man, Lieders, + is our best workman; you can't get any better work in the country,” said + he. “I want you to see an armoire that he has carved, it is up in our + exhibition room.” + </p> + <p> + Armorer said, “You seem to get on very well with your working people, Mr. + Lossing.” + </p> + <p> + “I think we generally get on well with them, and they do well themselves, + in these Western towns. For one thing, we haven't much organization to + fight, and for another thing, the individual workman has a better chance + to rise. That man Lieders, whom you saw, is worth a good many thousand + dollars; my father invested his savings for him.” + </p> + <p> + “You are one of the philanthropists, aren't you, Mr. Lossing, who are + trying to elevate the laboring classes?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit of it, sir. I shall never try to elevate the laboring classes; + it is too big a contract. But I try as hard as I know how to have every + man who has worked for Harry Lossing the better for it. I don't concern + myself with any other laboring men.” + </p> + <p> + Just then a murmur of exclamations came from Mrs. Ellis and Esther, whom + the superintendent was piloting through the shops. “Oh, no, it is too + heavy; oh, don't do it, Mr. Cardigan!” “Oh, we can see it perfectly well + from here! PLEASE don't, you will break yourself somewhere!” Mrs. Ellis + shrieked this; but the shrieks turned to a murmur of admiration as a huge + carved sideboard came bobbing and wobbling, like an intoxicated piece of + furniture in a haunted house, toward the two gentlewomen. Immediately, a + short but powerfully built man, whose red face beamed above his dusty + shoulders like a full moon with a mustache, emerged, and waved his hand at + the sideboard. + </p> + <p> + “I could tackle the two of them, begging your pardon, ladies.” + </p> + <p> + “That's Cardigan,” explained Harry, “Miss Armorer may have told you about + him. Oh, SHUEY!” + </p> + <p> + Cardigan approached and was presented. He brought both his heels together + and bowed solemnly, bending his head at the same time. + </p> + <p> + “Pleased to meet you, sir,” said Shuey. Then he assumed an attitude of + military attention. + </p> + <p> + “Take us up in the elevator, will you, Shuey?” said Harry. “Step in, Mr. + Armorer, please, we will go and see the reproductions of the antique; we + have a room upstairs.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Armorer stepped in, Shuey following; and then, before Harry could + enter it, the elevator shot upward and—stuck! + </p> + <p> + “What's the matter?” cried Armorer. + </p> + <p> + Shuey was tugging at the wire rope. He called, in tones that seemed to + come from a panting chest: “Take a pull at it yourself, sir! Can you move + it?” + </p> + <p> + Armorer grasped the rope viciously; Shuey was on the seat pulling from + above. “We're stuck, sir, fast!” + </p> + <p> + “Can't you get down either?” + </p> + <p> + “Divil a bit, saving your presence, sir. Do ye think like the water-works + could be busted?” + </p> + <p> + “Can't you make somebody hear?” panted Armorer. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you see there's a deal of noise of the machinery,” said Shuey, + scratching his chin with a thoughtful air, “and they expect we've gone + up!” + </p> + <p> + “Best try, anyhow. This infernal machine may take a notion to drop!” said + Armorer. + </p> + <p> + “And that's true, too,” acquiesced Shuey. Forthwith he did lift up his + voice in a loud wailing: “OH—H, Jimmy! OH—H, Jimmy Ryan!” + </p> + <p> + Jimmy might have been in Chicago for any response he made; though Armorer + shouted with Shuey; and at every pause the whir of the machinery mocked + the shouters. Indescribable moans and gurgles, with a continuous malignant + hiss, floated up to them from the rebel steam below, as from a volcano + considering eruption. “They'll be bound to need the elevator some time, if + they don't need US, and that's one comfort!” said Shuey, philosophically. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you think if we pulled on her we could get her up to the next + floor, by degrees? Now then!” + </p> + <p> + Armorer gave a dash and Shuey let out his muscles in a giant tug. The + elevator responded by an astonishing leap that carried them past three or + four floors! + </p> + <p> + “Stop her! stop her!” bawled Shuey; but in spite of Armorer's pulling + himself purple in the face, the elevator did not stop until it bumped with + a crash against the joists of the roof. + </p> + <p> + “Well, do you suppose we're stuck HERE?” growled Armorer. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, I'll try. Say, don't be exerting yourself violent. It strikes + me she's for all the world like the wimmen,—in exthremes, sir, in + exthremes! And it wouldn't be noways so pleasant to go riproaring that + gait down cellar! Slow and easy, sir, let me manage her. Hi! she's + working.” + </p> + <p> + In fact, by slow degrees and much puffing, Shuey got the erratic box to + the next floor, where, disregarding Shuey's protestations that he could + “make her mind,” Mr. Armorer got out, and they left the elevator to its + fate. It was a long way, through many rooms, downstairs. Shuey would have + beguiled the way by describing the rooms, but Armorer was in a raging + hurry and urged his guide over the ground. Once they were delayed by a + bundle of stuff in front of a door; and after Shuey had laboriously rolled + the great roll away, he made a misstep and tumbled over, rolling it back, + to a tittering accompaniment from the sewing-girls in the room. But he + picked himself up in perfect good temper and kicked the roll ten yards. + “Girls is silly things,” said the philosopher Shuey, “but being born that + way it ain't to be expected otherwise!” + </p> + <p> + He had the friendly freedom of his class in the West. He praised Mrs. + Ellis's gymnastics, and urged Armorer to stay over a morning train and see + a “real pretty boxing match” between Mr. Lossing and himself. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he boxes too, does he?” said Armorer. + </p> + <p> + “And why on earth would he groan-like?” wondered Shuey to himself. “He + does that, sir,” he continued aloud; “didn't Mrs. Ellis ever tell you + about the time at the circus? She was there herself, with three children + she borrowed and an unreasonable gyurl, with a terrible big screech in her + and no sense. Yes, sir, Mr. Lossing he is mighty cliver with his hands! + There come a yell of 'Lion loose! lion loose!' at that circus, just as the + folks was all crowding out at the end of it, and them that had gone into + the menagerie tent came a-tumbling and howling back, and them that was in + the circus tent waiting for the concert (which never ain't worth waiting + for, between you and me!) was a-scrambling off them seats, making a noise + like thunder; and all fighting and pushing and bellowing to get out! I was + there with my wife and making for the seats that the fools quit, so's to + get under and crawl out under the canvas, when I see Mrs. Ellis holding + two of the children, and that fool girl let the other go and I grabbed it. + 'Oh, save the baby! save one, anyhow,' cries my wife—the woman is a + tinder-hearted crechure! And just then I seen an old lady tumble over on + the benches, with her gray hair stringing out of her black bonnet. The + crowd was WILD, hitting and screaming and not caring for anything, and I + see a big jack of a man come plunging down right spang on that old lady! + His foot was right in the air over her face! Lord, it turned me sick. I + yelled. But that minnit I seen an arm shoot out and that fellow shot off + as slick! it was Mr. Lossing. He parted that crowd, hitting right and + left, and he got up to us and hauled a child from Mrs. Ellis and put it on + the seats, all the while shouting: 'Keep your seats! it's all right! it's + all over! stand back!' I turned and floored a feller that was too + pressing, and hollered it was all right too. And some more people hollered + too. You see, there is just a minnit at such times when it is a toss up + whether folks will quiet down and begin to laugh, or get scared into wild + beasts and crush and kill each other. And Mr. Lossing he caught the + minnit! The circus folks came up and the police, and it was all over. + WELL, just look here, sir; there's our folks coming out of the elevator!” + </p> + <p> + They were just landing; and Mrs. Ellis wanted to know where he had gone. + </p> + <p> + “We run away from ye, shure,” said Shuey, grinning; and he related the + adventure. Armorer fell back with Mrs. Ellis. “Did you stay with Esther + every minute?” said he. Mrs. Ellis nodded. She opened her lips to speak, + then closed them and walked ahead to Harry Lossing. Armorer looked—suspicion + of a dozen kinds gnawing him and insinuating that the three all seemed + agitated—from Harry to Esther, and then to Shuey. But he kept his + thoughts to himself and was very agreeable the remainder of the afternoon. + </p> + <p> + He heard Harry tell Mrs. Ellis that the city council would meet that + evening; before, however, Armorer could feel exultant he added, “but may I + come late?” + </p> + <p> + “He is certainly the coolest beggar,” Armorer snarled, “but he is sharp as + a nigger's razor, confound him!” + </p> + <p> + Naturally this remark was a confidential one to himself. + </p> + <p> + He thought it more times than one during the evening, and by consequence + played trumps with equal disregard of the laws of the noble game of whist + and his partner's feelings. He found a few, a very few, elderly people who + remembered his parent, and they will never believe ill of Horatio Armorer, + who talked so simply and with so much feeling of old times, and who is + going to give a memorial window in the new Presbyterian church. He was + beginning to think with some interest of supper, the usual dinner of the + family having been sacrificed to the demands of state; then he saw Harry + Lossing. The young mayor's blond head was bowing before his sister's black + velvet. He caught Armorer's eye and followed him out to the lawn and the + shadows and the gay lanterns. He looked animated. Evening dress was + becoming to him. “One of my daughters married a prince, but I am hanged if + he looked it like this fellow,” thought Armorer; “but then he was only an + Italian. I suppose the council did not pass the ordinance? your committee + reported against it?” he said quite amicably to Harry. + </p> + <p> + “I wish you could understand how much pain it has given me to oppose you, + Mr. Armorer,” said Harry, blushing. + </p> + <p> + “I don't doubt it, under the circumstances, Mr. Lossing.” Armorer spoke + with suave politeness, but there was a cynical gleam in his eye. + </p> + <p> + “But Esther understands,” says Harry. + </p> + <p> + “Esther!” repeats Armorer, with an indescribable intonation. “You spoke to + her this afternoon? For a man with such high-toned ideas as you carry, I + think you took a pretty mean advantage of your guests!” + </p> + <p> + “You will remember I gave you fair warning, Mr. Armorer.” + </p> + <p> + “It was while I was in the elevator, of course. I guessed it was a put-up + job; how did you manage it?” + </p> + <p> + Harry smiled outright; he is one who cannot keep either his dog or his + joke tied up. “It was Shuey did it,” said he; “he pulled the opposite way + from you, and he has tremendous strength; but he says you were a handful + for him.” + </p> + <p> + “You seem to have taken the town into your confidence,” said Armorer, + bitterly, though he had a sneaking inclination to laugh himself; “do you + need all your workmen to help you court your girl?” + </p> + <p> + “I'd take the whole United States into my confidence rather than lose her, + sir,” answered Harry, steadily. + </p> + <p> + Armorer turned on his heel abruptly; it was to conceal a smile. “How about + my sister? did you propose before her? But I don't suppose a little thing + like that would stop you.” + </p> + <p> + “I had to speak; Miss Armorer goes away tomorrow. Mrs. Ellis was kind + enough to put her fingers in her ears and turn her back.” + </p> + <p> + “And what did my daughter say?” + </p> + <p> + “I asked her only to give me the chance to show her how I loved her, and + she has. God bless her! I don't pretend I'm worthy of her, Mr. Armorer, + but I have lived a decent life, and I'll try hard to live a better one for + her trust in me.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad there is one thing on which we are agreed,” jeered Armorer, “but + you are more modest than you were this noon. I think it was considerably + like bragging, sending that woman to tell of your heroic feats!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I can brag when it is necessary,” said Harry, serenely; “what would + the West be but for bragging?” + </p> + <p> + “And what do you intend to do if I take your girl to Europe?” + </p> + <p> + “Europe is not very far,” said Harry. + </p> + <p> + Armorer was a quick thinker, but he had never thought more quickly in his + life. This young fellow had beaten him. There was no doubt of it. He might + have principles, but he declined to let his principles hamper him. There + was something about Harry's waving aside defeat so lightly, and so swiftly + snatching at every chance to forward his will, that accorded with + Armorer's own temperament. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, Mr. Armorer,” said Harry, suddenly; “in my place wouldn't you + have done the same thing?” + </p> + <p> + Armorer no longer checked his sense of humor. “No, Mr. Lossing,” he + answered, sedately, “I should have respected the old gentleman's wishes + and voted any way he pleased.” He held out his hand. “I guess Esther + thinks you are the coming young man of the century; and to be honest, I + like you a great deal better than I expected to this morning. I'm not cut + out for a cruel father, Mr. Lossing; for one thing, I haven't the time for + it; for another thing, I can't bear to have my little girl cry. I guess I + shall have to go to Europe without Esther. Shall we go in to the ladies + now?” + </p> + <p> + Harry wrung the president's hand, crying that he should never regret his + kindness. + </p> + <p> + “See that Esther never regrets it, that will be better,” said Armorer, + with a touch of real and deep feeling. Then, as Harry sprang up the steps + like a boy, he took out the note-book, and smiling a smile in which many + emotions were blended, he ran a black line through + </p> + <p> + “<i>See abt L.</i>” + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Stories of a Western Town, by Octave Thanet + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STORIES OF A WESTERN TOWN *** + +***** This file should be named 2949-h.htm or 2949-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/4/2949/ + +Produced by Judy Boss, and David Widger + + +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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