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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/37118-8.txt b/37118-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f6ea3c9 --- /dev/null +++ b/37118-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,15301 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Concerning Sally, by William John Hopkins + +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: Concerning Sally + +Author: William John Hopkins + +Release Date: August 18, 2011 [EBook #37118] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CONCERNING SALLY *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Jeannie Howse and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + * * * * * + + +-----------------------------------------------------------+ + | Transcriber's Note: | + | | + | Inconsistent hyphenation in the original document has | + | been preserved. This e-book has stuttering dialect. | + | | + | Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. For | + | a complete list, please see the end of this document. | + | | + +-----------------------------------------------------------+ + + * * * * * + + +By William John Hopkins + + + CONCERNING SALLY. + THE INDIAN BOOK. Illustrated. + THE MEDDLINGS OF EVE. + OLD HARBOR. + THE CLAMMER. + + + HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY + BOSTON AND NEW YORK + + + + +CONCERNING SALLY + + + + + CONCERNING + SALLY + + BY + + WILLIAM JOHN HOPKINS + + [Illustration] + + BOSTON AND NEW YORK + HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY + The Riverside Press Cambridge + 1912 + + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1912, BY WILLIAM JOHN HOPKINS + ALL RIGHTS RESERVED + + _Published September 1912_ + + + + +BOOK I + + + + +CONCERNING SALLY + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Professor Ladue sat at his desk, in his own room, looking out of the +window. What he might have seen out of that window was enough, one +would think, to make any man contented with his lot, especially a man +of the ability of Professor Ladue. He had almost attained to eminence +in his own line, which, it is to be presumed, is all that any of us +can hope to attain to--each in his own line. + +Out of Professor Ladue's window there might have been seen, first, a +huge tree, the leaves upon which were fast turning from the deep green +of late summer to a deep copper brown with spots of brilliant yellow. +If his eyes were weary of resting in the shadow of that great tree, +his gaze might go farther and fare no worse: to other trees, not too +thickly massed, each in the process of turning its own particular +color and each of them attaining to eminence in its own line without +perceptible effort; to the little river which serenely pursued its +winding and untroubled course; or to the distant hills. + +But Professor Ladue, it is to be feared, saw none of these things. He +was unconscious of the vista before his eyes. A slight smile was on +his handsome face, but the smile was not altogether a pleasant one. He +withdrew his gaze and glanced distastefully about the room: at the +small bundle of papers on his desk, representing his work; at the +skull which adorned the desk top; at the half-mounted skeleton of some +small reptile of a prehistoric age lying between the windows; at his +bed. It was an inoffensive bed; merely a narrow cot, tucked out of the +way as completely as might be. Professor Ladue did not care for +luxury, at any rate not in beds, so long as they were comfortable, and +the bed took up very little room, which was important. + +As his glance took in these things, a slight expression of disgust took +the place of the smile, for a moment; then the smile returned. All +expressions in which Professor Ladue indulged were slight. There was +nothing the matter with him. He was only tired of work--temporarily +sick of the sight of it; which is not an unusual state of mind, for any +of us. It may be deplored or it may be regarded as merely the normal +state of rebellion of a healthy mind at too much work. That depends +largely upon where we draw the line. We might not all draw it where +Professor Ladue drew it. And he did not deplore the state of mind in +which he found himself. It was a state of mind in which he was finding +himself with growing frequency, and when he was in it his sole wish was +to be diverted. + +He opened a drawer in his desk, dumped therein the papers, and, +removing from it a box of cigarettes, took one and slipped the box +into his pocket. After various tappings and gentle thumpings in the +manner of your cigarette-smoker, designed, I suppose, to remove some +of the tobacco which the maker had carefully put into it, the +cigarette seemed to be considered worthy of his lips. I have no doubt +that it was. So he lighted it, cast the match thoughtfully into the +empty grate, and rose slowly. + +He dawdled a minute at the window, looked at his watch, muttered +briefly, and went briskly out and down the stairs. + +He took his overcoat from the rack in the hall and removed the +cigarette from his lips for a moment. + +"Sarah!" he called curtly. + +His voice was clear and penetrating and full of authority. If I had +been Sarah, the quality of that one word, as he uttered it, would have +filled me with resentment. A door almost at his elbow opened quickly +and a girl appeared. She was well grown and seemed to be about twelve. +She was really ten. + +"What is it, father?" she asked; I had almost said that she demanded +it, but there was no lack of respect in her voice. "Please don't +disturb mother. She has a headache. I'm taking care of Charlie. What +is it?" + +"Oh, Sally," he said. It appeared as if he might even be afraid of +her, just a little, with her seriousness and her direct ways and her +great eyes that seemed to see right through a man. He gave a little +laugh which he intended to be light. It wasn't. "Oh, all right, Sally. +You're a very good girl, my dear." + +Sally did not smile, but looked at him steadily, waiting for him to +say what he had to say. + +"Tell your mother, Sally," the professor went on, "that I find I have +to go into town to attend to an important matter at the college. I may +be late in getting out. In fact, she mustn't be worried if I don't +come to-night. It is possible that I may be kept too late for the last +train. I am sorry that she has a headache. They seem to be getting +more frequent." + +Sally bowed her head gravely. "Yes," she said, "they do." + +"Well, tell her that I am very sorry. If I could do anything for her, +I should, of course, be only too happy. But I can't and there doesn't +appear to be any good purpose served by my giving up my trip to town." +In this the professor may, conceivably, have been wrong. "Give her my +message, my dear, and take good care of Charlie. Good-bye, Sally." + +The professor stooped and imprinted a cold kiss upon her forehead. +Sally received it impassively without expressing any emotion whatever. + +"Good-bye, father," she said. "I will tell mother." + +Professor Ladue went out and walked jauntily down the road toward the +station. No good purpose will be served, to use his own words, by +following him farther at this time. Sally went soberly back to the +library, where she had left Charlie; she went very soberly, indeed. No +Charlie was to be seen; but, with a skill born of experience, she +dived under the sofa and haled him forth, covered with dust and +squealing at the top of his lungs. + +"I hided," he shouted. + +"Sh--h, Charlie. You'll disturb mother. Poor mother's got a pain in +her head." The sombre gray eyes suddenly filled with tears, and she +hugged the boy tight. "Oh, Charlie, Charlie! I'm afraid that father's +going to do it again." + +Charlie whimpered in sympathy. Perhaps, too, Sally had hugged him too +tight for comfort. His whimper was becoming a wail when she succeeded +in hushing him. Then she heard a soft step coming slowly down the +stairs. + +"Now, Charlie," she said reproachfully, "it's too bad. Here's mother +coming down. I wish," she began, impatiently; then she checked herself +suddenly, for the boy's lips were puckering. "Never mind. Laugh, now." + +It is not strange that the boy could not accommodate himself to such +sudden changes. He was only six. But he tried faithfully, and would +have succeeded if he had been given more time. The door opened gently. + +"Sally, dear," said a soft voice, "I thought that I heard the front +door shut. Has your father gone out?" + +Mrs. Ladue was gentle and pretty and sweet-looking; and with a tired +look about the eyes that seldom left her now. She had not had that +look about the eyes when she married young Mr. Ladue, thirteen years +before. There were few women who would not have had it if they had +been married to him for thirteen years. That had been a mistake, as it +had turned out. For his own good, as well as hers, he should have had +a different kind of a wife: none of your soft, gentle women, but a +woman who could habitually bully him into subjection and enjoy the +process. The only difficulty about that is that he would never have +married a woman who habitually bullied. He wanted to do any bullying +that there was to be done. Not that he actually did any, as it is +usually understood, but there was that in his manner that led one to +think that it was just beneath the surface; and by "one" I mean his +wife and daughter,--no doubt, I should have said "two." As for Sally, +the traditional respect that is due a father from a daughter was all +that prevented her from finding out whether it was there. To be sure, +his manner toward her was different. It seemed almost as if he were +afraid of Sally; afraid of his own daughter, aged ten. Stranger things +have happened. + +If Mrs. Ladue knew that she had made a mistake, thirteen years before, +she never acknowledged it to herself when she thought of her children. +She beckoned Charlie to her now. + +"Come here, darling boy," she said, stooping. + +Charlie came, with a rush, and threw his arms about his mother's neck. + +"Oh, Charlie," cried Sally quickly, "remember mother's head. Be +careful!" + +Mrs. Ladue smiled gently. "Never mind, Sally. Let him be as he is. It +makes my head no worse to have my little boy hugging me. Has your +father gone out?" she asked again. + +Sally's eyes grew resentful. "Yes," she answered. "He left a message +for you. He said I was to tell you that he was very sorry you had a +headache and that if he could do anything for you he would be only too +happy." Sally's voice insensibly took on a mocking quality. "And--and +there was something about his being called into town by pressing +matters and you were not to be worried if he missed the last train +and--and--" She burst into a passion of tears. "Oh, mother, dear, I +don't believe a word of it. I'm afraid he'll come back like--like--" +Her whole form quivered with the energy of her utterance. There was no +doubt that she meant what she said so violently. "I _hate_--" + +"Hush, darling, hush! Never say that." Mrs. Ladue drew her little +daughter close and patted her shoulder. + +Sally's crying ceased abruptly, but the muscles were all tense under +her mother's hand. She smiled bravely. + +"Now, mother, dear," she said, "I have made it worse, haven't I? I +didn't mean to do that--to cry. Truly, I didn't. I won't ever do it +again." She put one arm about her mother's neck and stroked her +forehead gently. "Mother, darling, doesn't it make your head just a +little better to have your little daughter hu--hug--ging you, too?" +And she hid her face in her mother's neck. + +Mrs. Ladue's eyes filled with tears. "My dearest little daughter!" she +murmured, kissing her. "If only you could be happy! If only you didn't +take things so to heart! Mother's own dear little girl!" She rose and +spoke brightly. "Now, let's all go out into this lovely day and be +happy together." + +Sally smiled. "Yes," she said, "we'll all be happy together. Don't you +think, mother, that it will make your head better?" + +"Yes," replied Mrs. Ladue, "I think it will." + +So they went out to the trees and the river and the hills. But Sally +did not skip. Charlie, it is to be noted, did; Charlie, who had said +nothing about being happy. It is to be presumed that they were all +ecstatically happy; for had they not assured one another that they +would be? + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +It is to be feared that Professor Ladue had gone and done it again, as +Sally said. Not that Sally knew what "it" was, nor did her mother +know, either. Indeed, Mrs. Ladue made no inquiries concerning that +point, being glad to put the most favorable construction possible upon +the matter and, perhaps, afraid that she would not be able to do so if +she knew any more. Perhaps, too, she realized that, unless she pursued +her inquiries among comparative strangers, she would learn nothing. +The professor would lie freely and skillfully, assuming that he +considered it necessary or desirable to lie, and might be led to bully +a little. Whatever course he might take, she would be no better off. +So, as I said, she made no inquiries, which may have been wise or it +may not; and she kept on hoping, although each occasion left her with +less ground for any reasonable hope. + +At all events, Professor Ladue came back early the next afternoon in +the most fiendish temper, which may have been due to excess in any of +its customary forms. Whatever the exact cause, the effect was, +apparently, to make him hate himself and everybody with whom he came +in contact. Mrs. Ladue was aware of the state of mind that he would be +in, from experience, I suppose; an experience which she did not seem +at all anxious to repeat. Sally was aware of it, too, and even Charlie +seemed to realize that any meeting with his father was to be avoided. +So it happened that Professor Ladue found the way into the house and +to his room unobstructed. His wife and his children were nowhere to be +seen; which circumstance, in itself, annoyed him exceedingly, although +it is probable that he would have found their presence equally +annoying. + +Once in his room, he paced to and fro for a few minutes, nervously; +then he took off his coat and bathed his head and face with cold +water, pouring it over his head repeatedly. When he had rubbed his +head partially dry he appeared to feel somewhat better, and he seated +himself, frowning, at his desk, and tried to apply himself to his +work. In this, as he undoubtedly expected, he was not very successful. +He would not have expected one of his own students to be able to apply +himself to work with any success under similar circumstances, whatever +those circumstances were. So he pushed his work aside with some +impatience, got up, took the skull from the desk and handled it +absently. The feel of the skull seemed to suggest some ideas to him, +for he put it down, went to the half-mounted skeleton of that ancient +reptile that I have mentioned as lying between his windows, and began +to work in earnest. + +He soon became interested; so much interested that he was forgetting +about his head, which felt as if it had been pounded with +hammers,--tiny hammers which had not yet finished their work, whatever +it was,--and he was forgetting about his eyes, which ached as if the +pressure of blood behind the eyeballs was forcing them out of his +head. He didn't know but it was; but it didn't matter. And he was +forgetting about his body, every bone and muscle of which was crying +out for rest and sleep. He sat there, on the floor under one of his +windows, puzzling over a bone which he held in his hand, and +completely absorbed. + +Suddenly he glanced involuntarily out of the window. There sat Sally, +astride a limb of the great tree, looking in at him intently. She was +a most annoying child; yes, a most devilishly annoying child. He +sprang to his feet and threw up the window, almost in one motion. +Sally did not move a muscle; not even her eyes. He did not say the +sharp things that were on the tip of his tongue, he could not have +told why; he did not say anything for very nearly a minute. Under such +circumstances, a minute is a long time. Nor did Sally say anything. +She only gazed solemnly at him. + +"Sally," he demanded at last, "what are you doing there?" The look in +his eyes had softened. You might have mistaken it for a look of +affection. + +"Nothing, father," Sally answered, briefly and respectfully. + +"Well, what the--" Professor Ladue was at a loss for words in which to +express his exasperation. This was an unusual condition for him to be +in. "Well, why don't you get down?" + +"I don't want to get down," Sally returned. "I like being up here." + +"You'll break your neck." + +Sally made no reply. + +"Can you get down safely?" + +"Yes, father." + +"Get down, then," said Professor Ladue, less sharply than he had meant +to speak. "Don't you know that it must annoy me very much to have you +spying in upon me in that way?" + +"No, father, I didn't know it annoyed you," replied Sally in a +colorless voice. "I beg your pardon. But I wasn't spying on you. I was +only enjoying myself. I won't do it again." + +Sally began slipping and sliding and scrambling down the tree. She +seemed to have no fear and to be very familiar with the road she was +taking. She knew every foothold. Her father watched her as she went +from one insecure hold to another. It must have appeared to him a +perilous descent, one would suppose; but I do not know what he +thought. At all events, he called to her when she had swung off the +lowest branch and dropped safely. He still had in his hand that +prehistoric bone. + +"Sally!" he called; "don't you want to come up here?" + +Sally looked up, evidently greatly surprised. She was not easily +surprised. + +"To your room?" she asked. + +"Yes," replied her father impatiently, "of course. To my room." + +"Do you want me to?" Sally is to be excused for pressing the point. +She did not wish to make any mistake. Mistakes had been made before. + +"I should be greatly pleased," said the professor, smiling and bowing +airily. "I should consider it a great honor if Miss Sally Ladue would +favor me with her company at the present juncture." He leaned a little +out of the window. "You know I am working on the skeleton." + +"Yes," said Sally. "I'll come up right away." + +It is to be noted that Sally had not answered the exact question which +the professor had asked her. She may have been reluctant to answer it +just as it was asked. It is to be supposed that she was aware of the +question and that she knew the answer. Sally was a truthful young +person, but she preferred to take the course that made for peace if it +was consistent with truth. The professor did not press the matter. + +He was again sitting on the floor when Sally knocked on the door and +came in. His head was a little better. Perhaps the tiny hammers had +nearly finished their work. At all events, he soon forgot it +completely. + +"Sally," he said, after he had been working for some minutes and Sally +had been watching him in silence, "what do you think this is?" + +"I don't know, father," she answered. "Is it a--an alligator?" + +"No," he said, stopping and looking thoughtfully at the skeleton. "No, +it is not an alligator, although you came nearer than I should have +thought you would. You were just barely warm, Sally. It is a distant +relative of the alligator; perhaps I should call it a connection. The +thirteenth cousin of his hundred thousandth great-grandfather, or +something like that. It is a sort of a lizard, Sally. It is a very +small one." + +"Oh!" cried Sally. "A _small_ one! A small _lizard_! Why, father!" + +Professor Ladue smiled. "It lived a great many thousands of years +ago. Nobody knows how many thousands of years, although they will tell +you very glibly. They don't know anything about it except that it was +a long time. I know that. This little lizard is a kind that nobody has +ever discovered; nobody except me. It is _my_ lizard. It must be known +by my name. What do you think of that, Sally?" + +"It must be very fine," Sally murmured, "to discover things." + +"At that far-off time," the professor continued, "there were lots of +great horrid creeping and flying things. Even my little lizard may +have been able to fly. See! These seem to be the beginning of his wing +bones. There are some bones missing, so that I can't tell, yet, +whether he had wings that would bear him up. But probably he had. +Probably he had." And the professor relapsed into a thoughtful +silence. + +"Father," said Sally presently. She had been thinking and her interest +in the skeleton was more active than it had been. + +The professor looked up. "Any question that Miss Ladue has to ask," he +observed, "will be cheerfully answered, provided that I know the +answer. If I do not know the answer, and have the courage to say so, I +trust she will not regard me as wholly ignorant of the subject." + +Sally gave vent to a chuckle which was entirely unexpected; entirely +unexpected by herself, at least. + +"Father," she asked, as soon as she had managed to suppress her +chuckles, "then could your little lizard fly up high?" + +"Yep," he answered; "like a pigeon. Or, more probably, he flew more +like a bat than like a pigeon." + +"Right up into the tops of the trees?" + +"Right up into the topmost branches of the coal trees." + +"The _coal trees_!" + +"The coal trees. Fed on the fruit. Large lizards customarily ate +furnace coal, middle-sized lizards ate stove coal. Little lizards ate +chestnut coal." + +Sally burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. In all her +experience of her father, she had never known him to be so amusing. + +"And the littlest lizards?" + +"Ate pea coal," replied the professor promptly, "and the tiniest +babies ate buckwheat coal. Very nourishing, chestnuts and peas and +buckwheat. Cracked it with their teeth." + +Sally was still giggling. + +"Seriously, Sally," said the professor, with a change of manner, "by +the coal trees I meant the trees which have become the coal we are +burning in the stove and the furnace and to make steam. I see no +reason to doubt that this little lizard could fly up into the tops of +the trees. Perhaps he actually alighted on some tree which we now have +down cellar in the coal bin." + +"Oh!" cried Sally. "Let's suppose he did. And what did he see from his +topmost branch?" + +"Very little," replied the professor, "except treetops and a swamp or +two." + +"Well," said Sally, "it's rather disappointing. But I wish I could +have seen it." + +"Then," said her father solemnly, "there would now be nothing left of +you but a skeleton which I would be puzzling my brains over. It would +be somewhat disconcerting, Sally, to find a skeleton of a little girl +among these bones of a past age; very disconcerting, indeed, to find +that of Miss Sally Ladue." + +"But how would you know it was Miss Sally Ladue's skeleton?" asked +Sally, her eyes twinkling. + +"That is a poser," her father answered. "I should know it, though. If +there were no other means of identifying it, I should know it for Miss +Ladue's by the large bump of inquisitiveness on the skull." + +"What's my bump of inquisitiveness?" + +The professor turned towards her. "Hand me that skull on my desk, and +I'll show you." Sally obediently handed him the skull. "There it is," +he continued. "You can see it, although it is not as large as your +own. Come here and let us see if it is." + +Sally came. + +"The phrenologists," he began, feeling of her head, "would--hello!" + +"Ouch!" cried Sally, squirming but giggling irrepressibly, +nevertheless. + +"It is a very large bump," said the professor gravely; "unexpectedly +large, even for you. What makes it so large, Sally?" + +"I--I fell out of a tree yesterday," Sally said. "I suppose it was +that." + +"Ah, yes," the professor returned; "and because the bump was so large +by nature it stuck out in a most inappropriate and uncomfortable way +and was made more inappropriate and uncomfortable. It might be safer +for you if you could fly, like my little lizard." + +"I wish I could," said Sally; "I wish I could fly into the top of any +tree I wanted to." + +"You find the trees very attractive?" + +"Yes, I do," Sally replied, simply. "You can see a lot from the top of +a tall tree. The trouble is that you can't find big enough branches +when you get nearly to the top." + +"No," observed the professor, "I can't. If I could, I suppose I might +climb trees oftener. It is very disconcerting to get almost up, just +where the leaves are thickest, and find that I can't get any higher +and can't see anything to speak of, either. And twigs that you +wouldn't hesitate to trust yourself upon, Sally, are not nearly big +enough for me. That," he finished, reflectively, "is, I think, the +only reason why I have given up tree-climbing at such an early age." + +Sally chuckled delightedly. "Did you climb trees when you were a boy, +father?" + +"Huh! Climb trees! Gracious, yes. Used to run right up one side and +down the other. Tallest trees I could find, too. Hundreds of feet +high. Did I use to climb trees!" The professor turned away in excess +of scorn. + +"Oh!" cried Sally, clapping her hands. + +"Climb trees!" murmured the professor. "Why, there was one tree that I +remember--" + +He was interrupted, at this point, by a gentle knock at the door. + +"That sounds like your mother's knock, Sally. Will you be kind enough +to see?" + +It was Mrs. Ladue. She had heard the unaccustomed sounds of merriment +issuing from her husband's room and had come up--rather timidly, it +must be confessed--to see what it was all about. If her heart was +fluttering a little with symptoms of hope, as she came, it is not to +be wondered at. There was another reason for her coming, although she +was not conscious that it had weight with her. + +She was half smiling as she entered; half smiling in a doubtful, +hesitating sort of way, ready to let the smile develop in its own +lovely manner or to check it and let it fade away, according to +circumstances. Sally held tightly to her hand. Professor Ladue got +upon his feet with more agility than would have been expected of him. + +"Sally and I were having a session with my lizard," he said, "and were +variously entertaining ourselves. I hope your head is better, Sarah." + +Mrs. Ladue appeared to see some reason for letting her smile take its +natural course. It was a very lovely smile, almost tender. Professor +Ladue should have been a very proud and happy man that it was for him. +There is no reason to think that he was. + +"Thank you, Charlie," she replied. "It is all right, to-day. Won't you +and Sally go on with your session and let me be a visitor? It must +have been a very amusing session. I don't know when I have heard Sally +laugh so much." + +Sally clapped her hands again. "Oh, do," she said. "You were going to +tell me about a tree, father. What about it?" + +Professor Ladue talked much nonsense in the next half-hour and was +surprisingly gay; and Sally sat, holding her mother's hand, and +smiling and chuckling and enjoying it intensely. Of course Mrs. Ladue +enjoyed it. The professor seemed so genial and care-free that she +reproached herself for her doubts. She even thought, unfortunately, +that it was a favorable time for asking for something that she was +very much in need of. But she hesitated, even then. + +"Charlie," she said timidly, as they were going, "can you--can you let +me have this week's money for the house? Katie, you know,--we owe her +for two weeks, and there's the--" + +Professor Ladue interrupted her. "Money?" he said airily. "Money? +What's money? Certainly, my dear. Help yourself. You're welcome to +anything you find there." + +He tossed her his pocketbook and turned back to his skeleton. Perhaps +it was to hide some embarrassment; perhaps it was only to indicate +that, so far as he was concerned, the incident was closed. For the +pocketbook was empty. + +Mrs. Ladue spoke low and tried hard to keep any hint of reproach out +of her voice. "Did you--did you lose it?" she asked. + +"I suppose I must have lost it, if there was anything to lose," +Professor Ladue replied nonchalantly. He did not turn away from his +work. + +"And--and did you notify the police?" + +"No, my dear, I have not notified the police, yet." He smiled dryly as +he spoke. "I will take that matter under advisement." + +Mrs. Ladue did not push the question further. There were tears in her +eyes as she joined Sally. + +"Oh, mother," cried Sally joyously, "wasn't it fun? Did you ever know +that father could be so funny?" + +"Yes, darling child. He was full of fun and nonsense before we were +married, and for some years after." + +She bent and kissed her daughter, but would say no more. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Sally was not completely deprived of the society of other children, +although her temperament made this question a rather difficult one. +Her father did not bother himself about Sally's goings and comings, +which was quite what would have been expected. Indeed, he bothered +himself very little about the doings of his family; as a general +thing, he did not know what they did, nor did he care, so long as they +refrained from interference with his own actions. They had learned to +do that. + +Mrs. Ladue did bother herself about Sally's doings a good deal, in +spite of the difficulty of the question; and one would have thought +that she had her fill of difficult questions. She went to the door and +looked out. She saw Charlie playing alone near the foot of a tree. He +was tied to the tree by a long string, one end of which was about his +body, under his arms. + +"Charlie," she called, "where's Sally?" + +Charlie looked up, impatiently, and shook his head. Mrs. Ladue +repeated her question. + +"Up there," he answered, pointing into the tree above his head. "And +I'm a giraffe in a menagerie and giraffes can't talk, mother." + +"Oh, excuse me, little giraffe," she said, smiling. + +"Great, _big_ giraffe. _Not_ little giraffe." + +Meanwhile there had been a sound of scrambling in the tree and Sally +dropped to the ground. + +"Did you want me, mother?" she asked. + +"I only thought that you have had the care of Charlie for a long time. +Don't you want to go up to Margaret Savage's and play with her?" This +was, perhaps, the hundredth time that Mrs. Ladue had asked that +question. + +"No, mother," Sally replied, also for the hundredth time, "I don't. +But if you want me to go, I will." + +Mrs. Ladue laughed outright at her daughter's directness. "Why?" she +asked. "I am really curious to know why you don't like to play with +other little girls." + +"They are so stupid, mother," Sally answered quietly. "I have a lot +better time alone." + +"Well, my dear little daughter," began Mrs. Ladue, laughing again; and +there she stopped. "I should like, Sally,--I should like it very much, +if I could manage to send you to dancing-school this winter." + +"Very well, mother," said Sally again. + +"But I don't know what your father would think of the idea." + +"No," Sally returned. "You can't ever tell, can you?" + +"Wouldn't you like to go and be with the other children and do what +they do?" + +Sally was quite serious. "I don't think it would be very interesting," +she said. "But if you want me to go, I will." + +Mrs. Ladue sighed; then she laughed. "Well, Sally, dear," she said, +"run along and play in your own way. At any rate, I can trust you." + +"Yes, mother, dear, you can." + +And Sally ran out, quite happy, to untie the giraffe. + +"What you goin' to do, Sally?" he asked. + +"Giraffes can't talk," remarked Sally. + +"Aren't a giraffe. I'm the keeper. But I'll turn into a giraffe again +as soon as you answer me." + +"I'm going down in that little clump by the wall, where there are +plenty of things for giraffes to eat." + +Reminded that he was hungry, Charlie began to cry. + +"What's the matter?" asked Sally, stopping short. + +"Don't _want_ to be a giraffe and eat old leaves and things," Charlie +wailed. "Can't I have some gingerbread, Sally?" + +"Well, here," said Sally. She took from her pocket some little +crackers, which she gave him. "I guess those won't hurt you." + +Charlie made no reply, being busy with the crackers; and Sally led him +into the clump by the wall and tied him. + +"Sally," asked Charlie, somewhat anxiously, "what you goin' to do?" + +"I'm going up in the tree, of course." + +"Yes, but Sally, what will you be?" + +"I haven't decided," replied Sally thoughtfully. "I'll be deciding +while I go up." She turned and began to climb the tree, skillfully. +She had got no farther than the lower branches when she stopped. "Oh, +I'll tell you, Charlie," she cried. "It's just the thing. I'll be +father's little lizard." + +"What lizard?" Charlie demanded. + +"Father's little lizard, that he's got the skeleton of, up in his +room." + +"Isn't any little lizard," Charlie returned, very positively. "That's +a croc." + +"It is, too, a lizard, Charlie. Father said so." + +"Lizards are little weenty things," Charlie objected. "'Sides, they +don't live in trees." + +Sally did not feel sure on this point, so she evaded it. + +"That little lizard lived millions of years ago." What were a few +million years, more or less, to her? "And father said that it could +fly like a bat. It used to fly right up into the coal trees and--and +eat the coal that grew on them." Sally was giggling at the +recollection. "Now, this is a coal tree and I'm that little lizard, +and this is millions of years ago." + +Charlie had been paralyzed into momentary silence by the information +poured into him so rapidly. The silence was but momentary, but Sally +took advantage of it and climbed swiftly. + +"Sally!" + +Sally paused. "What?" she asked. + +"You that same lizard that father has the skeleton of?" + +Sally acknowledged that she was. + +"Then," Charlie retorted, "you haven't got any bones in you. They're +up in father's room." + +Sally chuckled, but she did not reply to this remark directly. + +"Charlie," she called, "you be a saurus something." + +"Don't _want_ to be a--Sally, what's a--that thing that you said for +me to be? What is it?" + +"Well," replied Sally slowly, "it's an animal kind of like an +alligator--and such things, you know. I guess I'm one. And Charlie, +you can't talk. Animals--especially sauruses--_never_ talked." + +"Parrots can," returned Charlie sullenly. + +Sally did not think it worth while to try to answer this objection. + +"There wasn't any kind of a thing, millions of years ago, that could +talk," she said calmly, "so, of course, they couldn't learn." + +"Then you can't talk, either," said Charlie, in triumph. And he +subsided and returned to the eating of crackers, of which, as +everybody knows, the saurians were extremely fond. + +Sally, meanwhile, was enjoying the prospect of treetops; an unbroken +prospect of treetops, except for a swamp which, in historic times, +became their own little valley. + +Sally had ceased, for the moment, her flitting lightly from bough to +bough, and there was no sign of her presence; and Charlie had come to +the end of his crackers and was browsing around in the grass, picking +up a crumb here and there. + +"Hello!" said a strange voice; a strange voice, but a very pleasant +one. "As I'm a living sinner, if here isn't a little pony!" + +Charlie looked up into the eyes of a very serious young man. The eyes +were twinkling over the wall and through the gap in the trees. Charlie +decided not to be frightened. But he shook his head. He wasn't a pony. + +"Well, well, of course not," the voice went on. "I was rather hasty, +but it looked like a pony, at the first glance. I guess it's a fierce +bull." + +Charlie shook his head again, less positively. Now that it had been +suggested, he yearned to be a fierce bull. He wished that he had +thought of it before he shook his head. + +"A camel?" asked the young man. "Can it be a camel?" + +Once more Charlie shook his head, and he laughed. + +"It sounds like a hyena," remarked the stranger solemnly, "but it +can't be, for hyenas eat--" He put his hand to his forehead and seemed +to be puzzling it out. "Aha!" he cried at last. "I have it. A +giraffe!" + +"No!" Charlie shouted. "I'm _aren't_ a giraffe. I'm a saw-horse." + +And he straddled his legs far apart and his arms far apart, and he +looked as much like a saw-horse as he could. That isn't saying much. + +At this last announcement of Charlie's, Sally exploded in a series of +chuckles so sudden and so violent that she almost fell out of the +tree. + +An answering titter came from the other side of the wall and a pair of +hands appeared, trying for a hold on the top stones; then the head of +a very pretty little girl followed, until her chin was on a level with +the top of the wall and she could look over it into Charlie's eyes. + +The strange young man had looked up into the tree. "Hello!" he +exclaimed. "If there isn't another! Is that a saw-horse, too?" + +Charlie had considered himself the person addressed. "Yes," he +replied, "it is. It's a flying one." + +"Mercy on us!" cried the young man. "A flying saw-horse! What a lot of +saw-horses you have about here; very interesting ones, too." + +"Yes," said Charlie importantly, "we like to be 'em." + +"It must be most exciting to be so extraordinary a thing. Do you +suppose you could get that flying one to come down where we can see +it? Do you know, I never have seen a flying saw-horse in all the +nineteen years that I have lived." + +"She won't come down unless she wants to," Charlie grumbled. + +Sally was recovering, in a measure, from her fit of chuckling. She +leaned far forward, below the screen of leaves. + +"Oh, yes, I will," she called, in a low, clear voice. "Besides, I want +to. Charlie was mistaken about the saw-horse. He meant saurus. And I +was a flying lizard and this was a coal tree. From the top of the tree +you can't see anything but treetops and swamps. It's millions of years +ago, you know. And father's got the skeleton of this very lizard up in +his room, and he said that it used to fly right up in the topmost +branches of the coal trees and he told me about the sauruses that used +to be." She had dropped to the ground. "Oh, it's very interesting." + +"It must be," the young man smilingly replied; "and I should suppose +that it must be rather interesting for your father to have such a +pupil." + +"It isn't," Sally returned. "That is--father only told me those things +the other day." + +The young man laughed. "I guess you must be Professor Ladue's little +girl." + +"Yes," said Sally, "we are. That is, I am, and this is my brother +Charlie." + +"The only and original saw-horse. You, I suppose, were a--we'll call +it a gynesaurus--" + +Sally clapped her hands and gave a little laugh of delight. + +"And this," he continued, laying his hand affectionately upon the +small head beside him, "is my small sister, Henrietta Sanderson, who +would be happy to be any kind of a beast that you tell her about. She +is ten years old and she dotes on being strange beasts." + +"Oh," cried Sally, "and I'm ten years old, too. Would Henrietta like +to come over the wall now? There's a gate farther along." + +"Henrietta despises gates. But does your invitation include her +brother? I'm Fox Sanderson and I was on my way to see your father." + +"Father isn't at home to-day," said Sally; "and, if you could come +over, too--" + +At that, Fox Sanderson put his hands on the top of the wall and +vaulted lightly over. He turned to help Henrietta. + +"Now," he said, when she was safely on the right side, "here we all +are. What'll we do?" + +Henrietta had her brother's hand. "Fox tells lovely stories," she +remarked. + +"Does he?" asked Sally. "What about?" + +"About any kind of a thing that you ask him," answered Henrietta. + +"About sauruses?" Sally asked eagerly, turning to him. + +"All right," he agreed, smiling; "about sauruses. But I'm afraid it's +just a little too cold for you youngsters to sit still and listen to +stories. I'll have to keep you moving a bit." + +Sally told her mother about it that night. She thought that she never +had had such a good time in all her life. Fox Sanderson! Well, he told +the most wonderful stories that ever were. + +"And, mother," said Sally, all interest, "he had me be a gynesaurus +and Henrietta was a---- But what are you laughing at?" + +For Mrs. Ladue had burst out laughing. "My dear little girl!" she +cried softly. "My dear little girl! A gynesaurus! This Fox Sanderson +must be interesting, indeed." + +"Then I can play with Henrietta? And father wouldn't mind, do you +think? And your head can't be hurting, mother, because you just +laughed right out." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Professor Ladue again sat on the floor of his room before the skeleton +of his lizard, absent-mindedly fingering a bone. Now and then he +looked out of the window at the great tree; at that particular spot in +the great tree upon which his daughter had been seated, one morning, +not so very long before. He may have had a half-formed wish that he +might again discover her there. + +But I do not know what half-formed wishes he had, concerning the tree, +his daughter, or anything else. At all events, Sally did not appear in +the tree. Had not he expressed disapproval of that very performance? +He could trust her. Perhaps, with a dim consciousness of that fact, +and, perhaps, with a certain disappointment that she was to be trusted +so implicitly,--she bore, in that respect, not the most remote +resemblance to her father,--the professor sighed. Then, still holding +the bone which bothered him, he went to his desk. There was a bone +missing--possibly more than one--and he would try to draw the missing +bone. + +He had scarcely got to work when there was a knock at his door. It was +a firm knock, but not loud, expressing a quiet determination. +Professor Ladue seemed to know that knock. He seemed, almost, as if he +had been waiting for it. + +"Come!" he cried, with an alacrity which would not have been expected +of him. + +He pushed back his drawing-board and Sally came in. + +"Ah, Miss Ladue!" he cried, with a certain spurious gayety which +concealed--something. I don't know what it concealed, and neither did +Sally, although she knew well enough that there was something behind +it. She feared that it was anxiety behind it, and she feared the cause +of that anxiety. "And what," continued the Professor, "can we do for +Miss Ladue to-day? Will she have more about this lizard of mine?" + +Sally's eyes lighted up and she smiled. "I should like that very much, +father, thank you. But I can't, this morning, for I'm taking care of +Charlie." + +"And is Charlie concealed somewhere about you? Possibly you have him +in your pocket?" + +Sally giggled. "Charlie's tied to a tree." + +"Tied to a tree! Does he submit gracefully?" + +"He's an alligator; down by the wall, you know." + +"Ah!" exclaimed the professor. "I am illumined. Do you think it is +quite for the safety of the passers-by to keep an alligator so close +to the road?" + +Sally giggled again. "Yes," she returned, "if I'm not gone too long. I +came on an errand." + +Professor Ladue lost somewhat of his gayety. "State your errand, +Sally. I hope--" + +But the professor neglected to state what he had hoped. Sally stated +her errand with her customary directness. + +"Mother wants me to go to dancing-school. Can I?" + +"I suppose," returned Professor Ladue airily, "that you can go +wherever your legs will carry you. I see no indications of your +inability in that direction or in any other. Whether you _may_ go is +another question." + +Sally did not smile. "Well, then, may I? Have you any objection? Will +you let me go?" + +"That is a matter which deserves more consideration. Why do you wish +to go?" + +"Only because mother wants me to," Sally answered. "I like to please +mother." + +"Oh," said the professor. "Ah! And what, if I may ask, are your own +inclinations in the matter?" + +"Well," replied Sally slowly. "I--it doesn't seem to me that it would +be very interesting to go there just because a lot of other children +go. I could have a lot better time playing by myself. That is, I--of +course, there's Henrietta, but Margaret Savage is stupid. But," she +added hastily, "I do want to go because mother wants me to." + +"Oh," the professor remarked, with a slight smile of amusement; "so +Margaret Savage is stupid. But why didn't your mother ask me herself?" + +"Perhaps she was afraid to," Sally said quietly. "I don't know what +the reason was." + +"But you think it was that she was afraid to." The smile on his face +changed imperceptibly. The change made it a sneer. It is astonishing +to see how much a slight change can accomplish. "Perhaps you know why +she was afraid?" + +"Yes," Sally acknowledged, "perhaps I do." + +"Well, would you be good enough to give me the benefit of your ideas +on that subject?" + +Sally flushed a little, but she did not falter in the directness of +her gaze any more than in her speech. "You generally make her cry when +she asks you for anything." + +The professor flushed in his turn. "Indeed!" said he. "A most +observing child! A very observing child, indeed. And so your mother +sent you in her place." + +"She didn't," said Sally impassively, although with a rising color; +"she doesn't know anything about my coming." + +"Oh!" remarked the professor reflectively. "So you came on your own +hook--off your own bat." + +She nodded. + +There was a long silence while Professor Ladue drummed on the table +with his fingers. Sally waited. + +At last he turned. "Sally," he said, with a slight return of that +gayety he had shown on her entrance, "the high courage of Miss Sally +Ladue shall receive the reward which it deserves. It is not fitting +that it should not. Bearding the lion in his den is nothing to it. I +am curious to know, Sally, whether you--" But there the professor +stopped. He had been about to ask his daughter, aged ten, whether she +was not afraid. He knew that she was not afraid. He knew that, if +there was some fear, some hesitation, some doubt as to the exact +outcome of the interview, it was not on Sally's part. + +Sally was waiting for him to finish. + +"Well, Sally," he continued, waving his hand airily, "make your +arrangements. Miss Ladue is to go to dancing-school and dance her feet +off if she wants to. Never mind the price." He waved his hand again. +"Never mind the price. What are a few paltry dollars that they should +interfere with pleasure? What is money to dancing?" + +Sally was very solemn. "I think the price is ten dollars," she said. + +Professor Ladue snapped his fingers in the air. "It doesn't matter. +Poof! Ten dollars or ten hundred! Let us dance!" + +Sally's eyes filled, but she choked the tears back. + +"Thank you, father," she said gently. "Mother will be glad." + +He rose and bowed, his hand on his heart. "That is important, of +course." + +"I think it is the only important thing about it," Sally returned +promptly. + +The professor bowed again, without reply, and Sally turned to go. + +It may have been that the professor's heart smote him. It may have +been that he had been aware of Sally's unshed tears. It may have been +that he regretted that he should have been the cause--but I may be +doing him an injustice. Very likely he was above such things as the +tears of his wife and his daughter. It is quite possible that he was +as proud of his ability to draw tears as of his ability to draw, +correctly, a bone that he never saw. Whatever the reason, he spoke +again as Sally was opening the door. + +"Will Miss Ladue," he asked, with an elaborate politeness, "honor my +poor study with her presence when she has more leisure? When she has +not Charlie on her mind? We can, if she pleases, go farther into the +matter of lizards or of coal trees." + +"Thank you, father," Sally replied. + +Professor Ladue was conscious of a regret that she spoke without +enthusiasm. But it was too much to expect--so soon. + +"I shall be pleased," he said. + +An idea, which seemed just to have occurred to Sally, made her face +brighten. The professor noted it. + +"And can--may I bring Henrietta?" + +"Bring Henrietta!" cried the professor. "That is food for thought. Who +is this Henrietta? It seems to me that you mentioned her once before." + +"Yes," said Sally eagerly. "I did. She is Henrietta Sanderson and Fox +Sanderson is her brother. He came to see you the other day. You +weren't at home." + +"Fox Sanderson!" + +"Yes," said Sally, again; "and when I told him that you weren't at +home, he came over the wall. He brought Henrietta. He knows a lot +about sauruses." + +"He knows a lot about sauruses, does he?" the professor repeated +thoughtfully. "It seems to me that I have some recollection of Fox +Sanderson." + +He turned and rummaged in a drawer of his desk. He seemed unable to +find what he was looking for, and he extracted from the depths of the +drawer many empty cigarette boxes, which he cast into the grate, and a +handful of papers, which he dumped on the top of the desk, +impatiently. He sorted these over, in the same impatient manner, and +finally he found it. It was a letter and was near the bottom of the +pile. He opened it and read it. + +"H-mph!" he said, reading, "Thanks me for my kind permission, does he? +Now, Miss Ladue, can you give me any light upon that? What permission +does he refer to? Permission to do what?" + +Sally shook her head. But her father was not looking. + +"Oh," he said; "h-m. I must have said that I'd see him." He read on. +"I must even have said that he could study with me; that I'd help him. +Very thoughtless of me, very thoughtless, indeed! It must have been +after--well. And he will be here in the course of three weeks." The +professor turned the leaf. "This was written a month ago. So he's +here, is he, Sally?" + +"Yes," Sally answered, "he's here." + +The professor stood, for a few moments, looking at Sally, the slight +smile on his lips expressive of mingled disgust and amusement. + +"Well," he observed, at last, "it appears to be one on me. I must have +said it. I have a vague recollection of something of the kind, but the +recollection is very vague. Do you like him, Sally?" + +"Oh, yes." Sally seemed to feel that that was too sweeping. "That is," +she added, "I--I like him." + +Professor Ladue laughed lightly. Sally laughed, too, but in an +embarrassed fashion. + +"That is satisfactory. You couldn't qualify it, Sally, could you? +Tried hard, didn't you?" + +Sally flushed. + +"Well," continued the professor, "if you chance to see this Fox +Sanderson, or any relative of his, will you convey to him my deep +sense of pleasure at his presence? I shall be obliged to Miss Ladue if +she will do that." + +"I will," said Sally gravely. + +Professor Ladue bowed. So far as he was concerned, the interview was +closed. So far as Sally was concerned, it was not. + +"Well?" asked Sally. "May I bring Henrietta? You haven't answered that +question, father." + +"Dear me! What an incomprehensible omission! I must be getting old and +forgetful. Old and forgetful, Sally. It is a state that we all attain +if we do not die first." + +"Yes," said Sally, "I suppose so. May I bring Henrietta, father?" + +Professor Ladue laughed shortly. "What a persistent child you are, +Sally!" + +"I have to be," she replied, trying not to show her disappointment. "I +suppose you mean that you don't want me to bring Henrietta. Well, I +won't. Perhaps I may come in some day and hear about the lizard." + +He did what he had not expected to do. "Oh, bring her, by all means," +he cried, with an assumed cheerfulness which would not have deceived +you or me. It did not deceive Sally. "Bring her." He waved his hand +inclusively. "Bring Henrietta and Margaret Savage and any others you +can think of. Bring them all. I shall be pleased--honored." And again +he bowed. + +Sally was just opening the door. "Margaret Savage would not be +interested," she said in a low voice, without turning her head, "and +there aren't--" + +"Sally," the professor interrupted in cold exasperation, "will you be +good enough to project in my direction, what voice you think it best +to use, when you speak to me? Will you be so kind? I do not believe +that I am growing deaf, but I don't hear you." + +Sally turned toward him. "Yes, father, I beg your pardon. I said that +Margaret Savage wouldn't be interested," she repeated quietly and +clearly, "and that there aren't any others." + +He made an inarticulate noise in his throat. Sally was on the point of +shutting the door. + +"Sally!" he called. + +The door opened again just far enough to show proper respect. "Yes, +father?" + +"Would your friend Henrietta really be interested in--in what she +would probably hear?" + +The door opened wider. "Oh, yes, she would. I'm sure she would." There +was a note of eagerness in Sally's voice. + +"Well, then, you may bring her. I shall be glad to have you both when +you find leisure. But no Margaret Savages, Sally." + +"Oh, no, father. Thank you very much." + +After which Sally shut the door and the professor heard her running +downstairs. He seemed pleased to hear the noise, which really was not +great, and seated himself at his desk again and took up his drawing. + +And Sally, when she had got downstairs and out of doors, found her +exhilaration oozing away rapidly and a depression of spirit taking its +place. The interview, on the whole, had been well calculated--it may +have been carefully calculated--to take the starch out of a woman +grown. Professor Ladue had had much experience at taking the starch +out of others. And Sally was not a woman grown, but a child of ten. +Her powers of resistance had been equal to the task imposed, +fortunately, but she found that the exercise of those powers had left +her weak and shaky, and she was sobbing as she ran. If the professor +had seen her then,--if he had known just what her feelings were as she +sobbed,--would he have been proud of his ability to draw tears? I +wonder. + +"Anyway," Sally sobbed, "I know how he makes mother feel. I know. Oh, +mother, mother! But I'll never give in. I won't!" + +She stopped her convulsive sobbing by the simple process of shutting +her teeth over her lower lip, and she dashed away the tears from her +eyes as she ran toward the captive alligator, whose continuous roar +was growing in her ears. The roar was one of rage. + +"Oh, dear! I left him too long." + +And Sally ran up to find Charlie fumbling at the knot of the rope by +which he was tied. He cried out at her instantly. + +"Sally! Don't _want_ to be tied any more. _Aren't_ an alligator. I'm a +little boy. Don't want to be tied like an old cow." + +Sally hastily untied him, comforting him, meanwhile, as well as she +could. But Charlie, noticing something unusual in her voice, looked up +into her face and saw traces of tears. He immediately burst into tears +himself. + +"Charlie!" cried Sally, fiercely; "Charlie! Laugh, now! Laugh, I tell +you." She glanced over the wall. "Here come Fox Sanderson and +Henrietta. Laugh!" + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Sally always remembered that winter, a winter of hard work and growing +anxiety for her, enlivened by brief and occasional joys. She got to +know Fox and Henrietta very well, which was a continual joy and +enlivenment. Sally did not count dancing-school among the +enlivenments. And the infrequent lessons with Fox and Henrietta and +her father were enlivenments, too, usually; not always. After the +times when they were not, Sally wanted to cry, but she didn't, which +made it all the harder. + +Her mother seemed steadily progressing toward permanent invalidism, +while her father was doing much worse than that. And she took more and +more of the burden of both upon her own small shoulders. Poor child! +She should have known no real anxiety; none more real than the common +anxieties of childhood. But perhaps they are real enough. Sally was +not eleven yet. + +It is hard to say whether her mother or her father caused Sally the +more anxiety. Her mother's progress was so gradual that the change +from day to day--or from week to week, for that matter--was not +noticeable; while her father's was spasmodic. Sally did not see him +during a spasm, so that she did not know how noticeable the change was +from day to day or from hour to hour. We do not speak of weeks in such +cases. But it was just after a spasm that he was apt to make his +appearance again at home in a condition of greater or less +dilapidation, with nerves on edge and his temper in such a state that +Mrs. Ladue had grown accustomed, in those circumstances, to the use of +great care when she was forced to address him. Lately, she had avoided +him entirely at such times. Sally, on the contrary, made no effort to +avoid him and did not use great care when she addressed him, although +she was always respectful. This course was good for the shreds of the +professor's soul and perhaps no harder for Sally. But that was not the +reason why she did it. She could not have done differently. + +There was the time in the fall, but that was over. And there was the +time at Christmas which Sally nipped in the bud. Following the +Christmas fiasco--a fiasco only from the point of view of the +professor--was the Era of Good Behavior. That is begun with capitals +because Sally was very happy about her father during that era, +although her mother's health worried her more and more. Then there was +the time late in the winter, after her father had broken down under +the strain of Good Behavior for two months; and, again, twice in +March. Professor Ladue must have been breaking rapidly during that +spring, for there came that awful time when it seemed, even to Sally, +as if the bottom were dropping out of everything and as if she had +rather die than not. Dying seems easier to all of us when we are +rather young, although the idea does not generally come to us when we +are ten years old. But it must be remembered that Sally was getting +rather more than her fair share of hard knocks. Later in life dying +does not seem so desirable. It is a clear shirking of responsibility. +Not that Sally ought to have had responsibility. + +The time at Christmas happened on the last day of term time; and, +because that day was only half a day for the professor and because +Christmas was but two days off, Sally had persuaded her mother to take +her into town. "Town" was half an hour's ride in the train; and, once +there, Sally intended to persuade her mother further and to beard her +father in his laboratory and to take him for an afternoon's Christmas +shopping; very modest shopping. Whether Mrs. Ladue suspected the +designs of Sally and was sure of their failure, I do not know. Sally +had not told her mother of her complete plans. She was by no means +certain of their success herself. In fact, she felt very shaky about +it, but it was to be tried. Whatever her reason, Mrs. Ladue consented +with great and very evident reluctance, and it may have been her dread +of the occasion that gave her the headache which followed. So Sally +had to choose between two evils. And, the evil to her father seeming +the greater if she stayed at home with her mother, she elected to go. + +She disposed of Charlie and knocked softly on her mother's door. There +was a faint reply and Sally went in. The shades were pulled down and +the room was rather dark. Sally went to her mother and bent over her +and put her arms half around her. She did it very gently,--oh, so +gently,--for fear of making the headache worse. + +"Is your head better, mother, dear?" she asked softly. + +Mrs. Ladue smiled wanly. "Having my dear little girl here makes it +better," she answered. + +"Does it, mother? Does it really?" The thought made Sally very happy. +But then it suddenly came over her that, if she carried out her plans, +she could not stay. She was torn with conflicting emotions, but not +with doubts. She had considered enough and she knew what she intended +to do. She did not hesitate. + +"I'm very sorry, mother, dear, that I can't stay now. I'll come in +when I get back, though, and I'll stay then, if it isn't too late and +if you want me then. I truly will. I love to." + +"Is it Charlie, Sally? You have too much of the care of Charlie. If I +weren't so good for nothing!" + +"I've left Charlie with Katie, and he's happy. It's father. I think +I'd better go in and meet him. Don't you think I'd better?" + +The tears came to Mrs. Ladue's eyes. "Bless you, dear child! But how +can you, dear, all alone? No, Sally. If you must go, I'll get up and +go with you." + +"Oh, mother, you mustn't, you mustn't. I can get Fox to go with me. I +know he will. I promise not to go unless I can get Fox--or some +one--to go." + +"Some grown person, Sally?" Mrs. Ladue asked anxiously. + +"Yes," answered Sally, almost smiling, "some grown person. That is," +she added, "if you call Fox Sanderson a grown person." + +"Fox Sanderson is a dear good boy," replied Mrs. Ladue. "I wish you +had a brother like him, Sally,--just like him." + +"I wish I did," said Sally, "but I haven't. The next best thing is to +have him just Fox Sanderson. Will you be satisfied with him, mother, +dear,--if I can get him to go?" + +Again Mrs. Ladue smiled. "Quite satisfied, dear. I can trust you, +Sally, and you don't know what a relief that is." + +"No," said Sally, "I s'pose I don't." Nevertheless she may have had +some idea. + +That thought probably occurred to her mother, for she laughed a little +tremulously. "Kiss me, darling, and go along." + +So Sally kissed her mother, tenderly and again and again, and turned +away. But her mother called her back. + +"Sally, there is a ticket in my bureau, somewhere. And, if you can +find my purse, you had better take that, too. I think there is nearly +two dollars in it. It is a pretty small sum for Christmas shopping, +but I shall be glad if you spend it all." + +Sally turned to kiss her mother again. "I shan't spend it all," she +said. + +She rummaged until she found the ticket and the purse; and, with a +last good-bye to her mother, she was gone. Mrs. Ladue sighed. "The +darling!" she said, under her breath. + +Sally met Fox and Henrietta just outside her own gate. "Oh," she +cried, "it's lucky, for you're exactly the persons I wanted to see." + +Henrietta looked expectant. + +"Well, Sally," Fox said, smiling, "what's up now?" + +"I'm going to town," Sally answered, less calmly than usual. She laid +her hand on his arm as she spoke. "That is, I'm going if I can find +somebody to go with me." + +Fox laughed. "Is that what you call a hint, Sally? Will we do?" + +"It isn't a hint," said Sally, flushing indignantly. "That is,--it +wasn't meant for one. I was going to ask you if you had just as lief +go as not. I've got a ticket and there are--let's see"--she took out +her ticket and counted--"there are seven trips on it. That's enough. +Would you just as lief?" + +"I'd rather," replied Fox promptly. "Come on, Henrietta. We're going +to town." He looked at his watch. "Train goes in fourteen minutes, and +that's the train we take. Step lively, now." + +Henrietta giggled and Sally smiled; and they stepped lively and got to +the station with two minutes to spare. Fox occupied that two minutes +with a rattle of airy nothings which kept Sally busy and her mind off +her errand; which may have been Fox's object or it may not. For Sally +had not told her errand yet, and how could Fox Sanderson have known +it? When they got into the car, Sally was a little disappointed +because she had not been able to tell him. She had meant +to--distinctly meant to during that two minutes. + +She had no chance to tell him in the train. The cars made such a noise +that she would have had to shout it in his ear and, besides, he talked +steadily. + +"I'll tell you what," he said, at the end of a stream of talk of which +Sally had not heard half. "Let's get your father, Sally, and take him +with us while you do your errands, whatever they are. He'll be through +in the laboratory, and we'll just about catch him." + +"All right," Sally murmured; and she sank back in her seat +contentedly. + +She had been sitting bolt upright. She felt that it was all right now, +and she would not need to tell Fox or anybody. She felt very grateful +to him, somehow. She felt still more grateful to him when he let the +conductor take all their fares from her ticket without a protest. Fox +was looking out of the window. + +"It looks as if we might have some snow," he remarked. "Or it may be +rain. I hope it will wait until we get home." + +When they got to the laboratory, they found one of the cleaners just +unlocking the door. She didn't know whether the professor had gone or +not. He always kept the door locked after hours; but would they go in? +They would and did, but could not find Professor Ladue. Fox found, on +his desk, a beaker with a few drops of a liquid in it. He took this up +and smelt of it. The beaker still held a trace of warmth. + +"He has just this minute gone," he said. "If we hurry I think we can +catch him. I know the way he has probably gone." + +"How do you know he has just gone?" asked Sally, looking at him +soberly and with her customary directness. "How can you tell?" + +"Sherlock Holmes," he answered. "You didn't know that I was a +detective, did you, Sally?" + +"No," said Sally. "Are you?" + +"Seem to be," Fox returned. "Come on, or we'll lose him." + +So they hurried, twisting and winding through streets that Sally did +not know. They seemed to be highly respectable streets. Sally wondered +where they were going. She wanted to ask Fox, but, evidently, he +didn't want to take the time to talk. Henrietta's eyes were brighter +than usual and she looked from Fox to Sally with a curiosity which she +could not conceal; but Sally, at least, did not notice, and Henrietta +said nothing. + +"There he is," said Fox, at last. + +They had just turned the corner of a street lined with what appeared +to Sally to be rather imposing houses. It was a highly respectable +street, like the others they had come through, and it was very quiet +and dignified. Indeed, there was no one in sight except Professor +Ladue, who was sauntering along with the manner of the care-free. His +coat was unbuttoned and blowing slightly, although there was that +chill in the air that always precedes snow and the wind was rising. +Their steps echoed in the quiet street, and, instinctively, they +walked more softly. Strangely enough, they all seemed to have the same +feeling; a feeling that the professor might suddenly vanish if he +heard them and looked around. + +"Now, Sally," Fox continued, speaking somewhat hurriedly, "you run and +catch him before he turns that next corner. The street around that +corner is only a court with a dozen houses on it. If you don't catch +him before he goes into the house in the middle of that block, give it +up. Don't try to go in after him, but come back. Henrietta and I will +be waiting for you. If you get him, we won't wait. But don't say +anything about our being here unless he asks you. He might not like to +know that I had followed him." + +"But," protested Sally, bewildered, "aren't you going with us? I +thought you were going shopping with us." + +"If we had caught him before he had left the college. Now, it might be +embarrassing--to both your father and to me." + +"But your tickets!" wailed Sally in a distressed whisper. They had +been speaking like conspirators. + +Fox laughed softly. "I have a few cents about me. You can make that +right some other time. Now, run!" + +So Sally ran. She ran well and quietly and came up with her father +just after he had turned that last corner. The professor must have +been startled at the unexpectedness of the touch upon his arm, for he +turned savagely, prepared, apparently, to strike. + +"Father!" cried Sally; but she did not shrink back. "Father! It's only +me!" + +The look in Professor Ladue's eyes changed. Some fear may have come +into it; a fear that always seemed to be latent where Sally was +concerned. His look was not pleasant to see directed toward his own +little daughter. The savage expression was still there, and a frown, +denoting deep displeasure. + +"Sally!" he exclaimed angrily. Then he was silent for a time; a time, +it is to be presumed, long enough for him to collect his scattered +faculties and to be able to speak as calmly as a professor should +speak to his daughter, aged ten. + +"Sally," he said at last, coldly, "may I ask how you came here?" + +"Why," Sally replied, speaking hastily, "I was coming in town, this +afternoon,--I planned it, long ago, with mother,--and--" + +"Is your mother with you?" the professor interrupted. + +To a careful observer he might have seemed more startled than ever; +but perhaps Sally was not a careful observer. At all events, she gave +no sign. + +"Mother had a headache and couldn't come," said Sally quietly. She +must have been afraid that her father would ask other questions. It +was quite natural that he should want to know who did come with her. +So she went on rapidly. "But I thought I'd come just the same, so I +did, and I went to your laboratory, but you'd just gone and I followed +on after and I caught you just as you turned this corner, and now I +would like to have you go down to the shops with me. I want to buy +something for mother and Charlie. Will you go with me, father?" + +The professor did not ask any of the questions that Sally feared. +Possibly he had as much fear of the answers as Sally had of the +questions. So he asked none of the questions that one would think a +father would ask of his little daughter in such circumstances. As +Sally neared the end of her rapid speech, his eyes had narrowed. + +"So," he said slowly, "I gather from what you have left unsaid that +your mother sent you after me." + +There was the faintest suspicion of a sneer in his voice, but he tried +to speak lightly. As had happened many times before, he did not +succeed. + +"She didn't," answered Sally, trying to be calm. Her eyes burned. "She +didn't want me to come. I came on my own hook." + +"It might have been wiser, Sally," the professor observed judicially, +"to do what your mother wished." + +Sally made no reply. She would have liked to ask him if he did--if he +ever did what her mother wished. + +Sally saying nothing and seeming somewhat abashed, the professor found +himself calmer. "So that course did not commend itself to your +judgment? Didn't think it best to mind your mother. And you went to +the laboratory and--who let you in?" he asked suddenly. + +"One of the cleaners." + +"Oh, one of the cleaners. A very frowzy lady in a faded black skirt +and no waist worth mentioning, I presume." The professor seemed +relieved. "And you went in, and didn't find me. Very natural. I was +not there. And having made up your mind, from internal evidence, I +presume, which way I had gone,--but who told you?--oh, never mind. +It's quite immaterial. A very successful trail, Sally; or shall I say +shadow? You must have the makings of a clever detective in you. I +shouldn't have suspected it. Never in the world." + +The professor was quite calm by this time; rather pleased with +himself, especially as he had chanced to remark the tears standing in +his little daughter's eyes. + +"And I never suspected it!" he repeated. Then he laughed; but it was a +mirthless laugh. If he had known how empty it would sound, the +professor would never have done it. + +At his laugh, two of the aforesaid tears splashed on the sidewalk, in +spite of Sally's efforts to prevent. The tears may not have been +wholly on her own account. She may have felt some pity for her +father's pitiful pretense. + +She bit her lip. "Will you go with me now, father?" she asked, as soon +as she could trust herself to speak at all. + +It was always somewhat difficult to account for the professor's +actions and to assign the motive which really guided. The professor, +himself, was probably unaware, at the time, of having any motive. So +why seek one? It need not concern us. + +"Go with you, Sally? Why, yes, indeed. Certainly. Why not?" he agreed +with an alacrity which was almost unseemly; as if he challenged +anybody to say that that was not just what he had meant to do, all +along. "I have some presents to buy--for your mother and Charlie. And +for somebody else, too," he murmured, in a tone that was, no doubt, +meant for Sally to hear. She heard it. + +Sally smiled up at him and took his hand, which she seldom did. It is +true that she seldom had the chance. Then she glanced quickly around, +to see whether Fox and Henrietta were in sight. The street was +deserted. + +Professor Ladue buttoned his coat; but the wind was rising still, and +the chill increasing, and his coat was rather light for the season. +What more natural than that he should wish it buttoned? But Sally +would have unbuttoned her coat gladly. She would not have felt the +chill; and she almost skipped beside him, as they walked rapidly down +toward streets which were not deserted, but crowded with people. As +they went, he talked more and more light nonsense, and Sally was +happy; which was a state much to be desired, but unusual enough to be +worthy of remark. + +They were very late in getting home. With the crowds and the snow +which had begun to fall, there was no knowing what the trains would be +up to. Trains have an unpleasant habit of being late whenever there is +any very special reason for wishing to get in promptly. But I suppose +there is always somebody on any train who has a very special reason +for wishing to get in promptly. There was on this train. Sally had a +bad case of the fidgets, thinking of her mother, who must be waiting +and waiting and wondering why her little daughter didn't come. It +would be bad for her head. The professor, too,--but I don't know about +the professor; he may have been in no hurry. + +When at last they did get home, after a long wade through snow up to +her shoetops, Sally ran up to her mother's room, shedding her wet and +snowy things as she ran. She knocked softly and, at the first sound of +her mother's voice, she went in and shut the door gently behind her. +The room was nearly pitch dark, but she could see the bed, dimly, and +she ran to it and ran into her mother's arms. + +"Bless you, Sally, darling!" Mrs. Ladue cried softly. "You don't know +how glad I am to have you back." + +"I got him, mother, dear," Sally whispered. "I got him. But it was +only by the skin of my teeth." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +If Sally did get the professor only by the skin of her teeth, she had +no need to keep that precarious hold upon him. Providence or the +elements, or whatever you wish to call it, took that matter in hand +and attended to it with the thoroughness usual in cases in which it +undertakes to attend to anything. For Sally awoke the next morning to +find her world bound fast in ice. Every twig bore its load except such +as had refused to bear it. The birches, in scattered clumps, bowed +down to the ground, and the hard crust of the snow was littered with +broken branches. + +Sally stood at her window, looking out. It was beautiful, there was no +denying it; but, as she looked at the birches, every one of them bent +to the ground, with the freshly fallen snow covering it, and its top +held fast under the crust, her lip curled a little. She didn't think +much of a tree which couldn't hold itself up. It seemed to her too +much like saving yourself at the price of your self-respect. Better be +a self-respecting, upstanding tree, even if you did lose an arm or +two; better to go down altogether, if need be, but fighting. Yes, in +spite of their beauty, she despised the birches. And, with some such +thoughts as these, she turned from the window and dressed quickly. + +Nothing came that morning. A horse could hardly get through that crust +with safety to his legs. In consequence, the professor had no cream. +Sally fully expected an outburst of rage, which, with the professor, +took the form of acidly sarcastic remarks. His remarks, while +preserving outward forms of politeness, usually resulted in reducing +Mrs. Ladue to tears as soon as she had gained the seclusion of her own +room. It was not that Professor Ladue held his wife accountable for +such things as heavy snowstorms or sleet-storms--upon full +consideration. Such things are usually denominated "acts of God," and, +in contracts, the contractors are expressly relieved from +responsibility for failure of performance in consequence. The +professor himself, upon full consideration, would have held such +exemption quite proper. But his wife was not a contractor and was +entitled to no such exemptions. A professor was entitled to cream for +his breakfast. + +Sally, coming down with Charlie, found her father eating his breakfast +in solitude and in apparent content, and without cream; certainly +without cream. Mrs. Ladue had not appeared. Perhaps she was tired of +being reduced to tears on such occasions and had more confidence in +Sally than she had in herself. Certainly the professor was less apt to +indulge his taste for acid sarcasm with Sally. There is little +satisfaction to be got out of it when the only effect upon the hearer +is a barely perceptible rise in color and a tightening of the lips. At +all events, he did not do what was expected of him. + +"Good-morning, Sally," he said pleasantly. + +Sally was much surprised. She was so much surprised that the blood +surged into her cheeks in a flood. That was a greater effect than +could have been produced by acid sarcasm in any amount. The professor +might have noted that. Perhaps he did. + +"Good-morning, father," Sally replied, smiling. She hesitated for a +fraction of a second, then, yielding to her impulse, she put her arm +around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. "Good-morning." And she +went quickly to her seat, her cheeks blazing. + +The professor was so astonished at this act of Sally's,--an act as +difficult to foresee and to provide against as an act of God,--he was +so thoroughly astonished, I say, that he spilled some of the coffee +which had no cream in it. But let us hope he would not have wanted to +provide against that act of God. + +"Well, Sally," he said, laughing lightly, "it's surprising to think +what the weather can do when it tries. Only yesterday afternoon, bare +ground and scarcely a hint of what was coming. Now, here we are, tied +up." + +"Tied up?" Sally asked. + +"Tied up," he repeated. "There's little doubt about it. No milkman." +He waved his hand. "And there'll be no grocer and no anybody else. +You'll see. No butcher--meat man--we don't have butchers, now. Just +think of that, Sally. No meat until spring. How will you like that? We +should have been keeping chickens and pigs and we ought to have cows +and a calf or two. Then I would take my axe in my hand and my knife +and I would sally out to the barn. You would hear sounds of murder and +we should have fresh meat. Fresh meat!" The professor looked +ferocious. + +"And no trains," he added meditatively. "I haven't heard a train this +morning and I don't expect to." + +"Well," said Sally, "you don't have to take them. What do you care?" + +"Ah, true," he replied in the same meditative tone. "Very just, Sally. +I don't have to take them, and what do I care? What do I? Answer, +nothing." + +The professor waved his hand again and drank his coffee. An +irrepressible chuckle came from Sally. She said nothing, but waited +for her father to resume. He always did resume when he was in this +mood, which was not often. + +He put down his empty cup. "And what do we do? We finish our +breakfast, which may be a matter of some time, judging from quantity +alone." He pointed to Sally's plate and to Charlie's. Charlie had been +eating industriously ever since he sat down. "We finish our breakfast +and we loaf awhile, and then we bundle up and try to shovel out; you, +Sally, and I and Charlie." + +Here he pointed a finger at Charlie, who emitted a roar of delight. + +"An' can I shovel with my little snow-shovel? Can I?" + +The professor poured for himself another cup of coffee. "You are to +have the felicity of shoveling with your little snow-shovel, Charlie. +See that you do good work with it. And Sally shall take the +_middle-sized_ snow-shovel, and I will take the GREAT BIG snow-shovel." + +Another roar from Charlie, who began to eat faster. + +"This coffee, Sally," continued the professor, "would be better if the +storm had been less severe. But it does very well. It is most +excellent coffee. It is probably better for my health than it would be +with cream. For, do you know, Sally, I am well convinced that cream +with coffee forms quite another substance, which is deleterious to +health and destructive of the ability to sleep, although affecting in +no way the desire to do so. And that, Sally, is most unpleasant." + +Professor Ladue was speaking in his lecture-room voice and very +seriously. Sally was smiling. As he finished, the smile grew into a +chuckle and she choked. Charlie, having taken an extraordinarily large +mouthful, and being diverted from the ensuing process by the choking +of Sally, also choked. + +"Sally," said the professor calmly, "your little brother needs your +attention. He needs it rather badly, it seems to me." For Charlie had +his mouth open and was getting red in the face. + +Sally got up hastily and pounded Charlie on the back. That measure +being ineffective, she shook him violently. He gasped twice. + +"Want to race," he exploded. + +The professor looked surprised. "An eating race, Charlie?" he asked. +"Why, my dear boy, I shouldn't stand a ghost of a chance with you. We +might make it a handicap, but, even then--" + +"Shoveling race," Charlie explained. "You have the great big +snow-shovel an' Sally have the middle-sized shovel an' I have the +little snow-shovel, an' we race to see who can get the most done." + +"Brilliant idea, Charlie, positively glittering," his father +returned. "But it would hardly be fair to start us all from scratch, I +am afraid. Better make it a handicap, eh?" + +"Yes," Charlie replied, not knowing in the least what a handicap was. + +Neither did Sally. "What is a handicap, father?" she asked. + +Her father explained. + +"Oh," she said, approving, "then it makes the race fair, doesn't it? +Every one has as much chance of winning as everybody else. I think +that is nice." + +"It is an attempt in that direction, Sally. But there are many things +about it, about--er--racing--of any kind, that it is just as well you +shouldn't know. So I will not try to explain. If every one concerned +acts fairly, Sally, and with good judgment, it is nice, as you say." + +Sally was not going to be put off. "Why doesn't everybody act fairly?" + +The professor waved his hand and shrugged his shoulders; but before he +could make any other reply, the door opened softly. He welcomed the +opening of the door. It put a stop to Sally's questioning, which was +apt to become embarrassing, in certain cases. + +A glance at Sally's face would have told Professor Ladue who had +opened the door, but it is to be supposed that he knew. Sally jumped +up and ran; and the professor rose--rose with some alacrity--and +turned. + +"Good morning, Sarah," he said pleasantly. "We are all glad to see +you. I hope you are feeling better." + +Mrs. Ladue smiled happily. One would have thought that Professor Ladue +would have tried that manner oftener. It produced much effect with +little effort; but I spoke hastily. I do not know how much effort it +was. + +"Thank you, Charlie--Charlie, dear," she answered, hesitating a +little; "I do feel very much better. I heard all the happy noise down +here and I had to come down." + +"Don't apologize, my dear," he protested; "don't apologize, or we +shall have to believe that you didn't mean to come because you didn't +want to." + +Mrs. Ladue took her seat, but made no reply. There was a faint color +in her cheeks and she looked almost shyly at her husband. Sally was +gazing at her mother, but not in wonder. There was no fathoming Sally. +She reached out and pressed her mother's hand. + +"You look so very pretty, mother," she whispered. + +The color in Mrs. Ladue's cheeks became deeper. "Hush, dear," she +whispered in return. "It must be because I am happy." + +"I wish we could always be happy," Sally whispered again; "all of us." + +There was no way of knowing whether her father had heard these +whispers. He might have heard, but he gave no sign, looking into his +empty cup and playing with the spoon. + +"Sally," he said suddenly, "what do you suppose my little lizard would +have done if he had waked up some morning and found his swamp covered +with this?" The professor waved his hand toward the window. + +Sally was much interested. "Would he have flown away?" + +"Wrong," cried the professor, getting up and walking to the window. +"Guess again." + +Sally gave the question some thought. "I don't know," she said at +last. + +"Wrong again. Next! Charlie!" + +Charlie had his mouth full. He looked up in surprise. "What?" he +spluttered. + +"What would my little lizard have done this morning?" + +Charlie was no Fletcherite. He swallowed his mouthful very nearly +whole. Then he gasped a little which is not to be wondered at. + +"Little lizard would take his little snow-shovel and shovel a great +big place--" he began. Then an idea seemed to strike him and he +stopped with his mouth open. "No," he cried; "little lizard would be +dead." + +"Very possibly, Charlie. That's the nearest answer, so far." The +professor turned and regarded his son curiously. "I should really +like to know how you arrived at that conclusion." + +"Lizard died a long time ago," Charlie answered. "Couldn't wake up +this morning because you've got the bones upstairs." + +The professor laughed. "A very just observation," he remarked. "You +have a logical mind, Charles." + +Charles slid down from his chair. "I'm through my breakfast," he +announced. "Want to shovel." + +"You forget our programme, Charlie," said his father. "We are to loaf +now. It is always best to eat slowly, masticate your food well, +refrain from drinking when you are thirsty, and stand for half an hour +after eating. There are other things which I forget. But we will loaf +now." + +The professor lit a cigarette, after due preliminaries. Mrs. Ladue had +finished, apparently. She had come down rather to enjoy the rare +occasion than to eat. Perhaps it was a knowledge of that fact which +had kept the professor going and a desire--an inexplicable desire--on +his part to keep her in her state of happiness. It was seldom possible +to account for his actions. At all events, he was accomplishing that +end. It was a great pity that his desires did not always run in that +direction. It would have been so easy; so very easy for him, and it +would have made his wife so very happy. But the time when that would +have done any great good may have passed already. + +The professor followed out his programme religiously, talking when he +felt like it, always a pleasant and cheerful flow of irresponsible +talk, and loafing conscientiously for half an hour. Mrs. Ladue sat +still, saying little, afraid to move lest the movement break the +spell. Charlie had slipped out, unnoticed. + +Presently there was a great noise on the cellar stairs, sounding like +distant thunder. The noise stopped for a moment. + +"What's going on?" asked the professor casually. "Socialists in the +cellar? Not that I care," he added, with a wave of his cigarette. +"Mere curiosity. I should be glad to meet any socialists; but not in +the cellar." + +Mrs. Ladue laughed gently. It was a long time since the professor had +heard her laugh. That thought occurred to him. + +"You will, I think. They are opening the cellar door now. There they +come." + +For the noise had resumed, and was approaching along the hall. The +door of the dining-room swung open suddenly and Charlie entered, +earnest and intent and covered with dust and cobwebs. Behind him +dragged three snow-shovels, also covered with dust and cobwebs. + +Sally sprang for him. "Oh, Charlie--" + +He brushed her aside. "I brung your shovel, father," he said, "an' +Sally's. I couldn't lift 'em all at once, an' so I dragged 'em." + +The professor bowed. "So I gathered," he replied. "I thank you, +Charles." + +"But, Charlie," Sally cried, "you're all over dust and so are the +shovels. They ought to have been dusted." + +Charlie had dropped the shovels on the floor, thinking his mission +ended. Now he leaned over and thoughtfully wiped the shovels, one +after another, with his hand. + +"They are," he said, gazing at his grimy hand, "aren't they? But it +was dark an' I couldn't see. Besides, the snow'll clean 'em. I want to +shovel an' race, father," he added, somewhat impatiently. "Isn't it +time yet?" + +"Charlie," said his father, throwing away his cigarette, "in the words +of Friar Bacon's brass head, time is. Come on." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +The next month passed very pleasantly for the Ladues. Sleet-storms +cannot last forever and, the morning after Christmas, Sally heard the +trains running with some regularity. She was anxious accordingly and +she watched her father closely. But he did not seem to care whether +trains ever ran or not. His pleasant mood lasted, too: the mood of +light banter, in which he appeared to care something for his wife and +children; something, if not enough. They were grateful for that +little, although they knew very well that it was but a mood that might +change utterly in five minutes. It did not change for a surprisingly +long time, and Sally almost held her breath at first, while she waited +for it to pass. It would have been a relief--yes, distinctly it would +have been a relief, at first. But that feeling passed, too. + +In short, the professor was good, and Sally was happy. After the +tension of that first expectation was over she was very nearly as +happy as she should have been always. Children have a right to +happiness--to freedom from real worries--as far as we can compass that +end; and Sally had been deprived of her birthright. I wonder whether +the professor had ever realized that; whether he had ever given it a +thought. + +Mrs. Ladue was happy, too, because Sally was happy and because her +husband was kind to her, temporarily. He was not as kind as he might +have been, but then, he might have been so very much worse. He might +have beaten her. He had been accustomed to beat her, figuratively, for +some years. At first, too, her head seemed really better. At the end +of a week of the new order of things, she spoke of it to Sally. She +knew better than to mention the subject of headaches to the +professor. + +Sally was overjoyed. She buried her head in a pillow that happened to +be handy, and wept. A strange thing to do! "Oh, mother, dear!" she +cried. "Oh, mother, dear, if it only will stay so!" + +Mrs. Ladue gathered the child into her arms. "There darling!" she said +softly. "There, my dear little daughter! We'll hope it will." + +But when, at the end of a month, Sally looked back and compared, she +knew that it hadn't. It had been a happy month, though. Fox and +Henrietta had been in every day, and, while Sally played--or was +supposed to be playing--with Henrietta, Fox sometimes sat with her +mother. Mrs. Ladue became very fond of Fox. He didn't talk much, nor +did she. Indeed, Sally thought, in that fit of retrospection, that Fox +had seemed to be watching her mother; at least, occasionally. And Fox, +saying little, saw much. Sally knew. There was no telling how she knew +it, but she did; so she went to him, rather troubled, and asked what +he thought about her mother's health. + +He considered, looking seriously at her for a long time. + +"Well, Sally," he answered at last, "it isn't any better, on the +whole. I should think she ought to consult some doctor about it--some +good doctor." + +"Oh," said Sally in a low voice, "you--I hope you don't think--" + +"I don't think, Sally," Fox interrupted. "I know there is some cause +beyond my limited knowledge, and some one who really knows should see +your mother--if any one really knows. Doctors don't know much, after +all." + +Sally considered, in her turn, for a long time, her eyes searching +Fox's face. + +"Then," she concluded, sighing, "I shall have to speak to father about +it. Well,--I will." + +"That's the best thing to do," he replied. "And, Sally, remember, if +he doesn't receive the suggestion favorably, you are to let me know." + +"He won't," said Sally, with a faint little smile; "that is, he never +did. I let you know now. He may," she added doubtfully. "He has been +nice for a long time." Sally flushed at this implied confession, but +why should she not make it? Fox knew. + +"You try it, Sally, and let me know how you come out." + +So Sally tried it. It may have been a mistake, but how should Sally +have foreseen? It was as likely that, at the worst, she but hastened +her father's action; touched off the charge prematurely. The explosion +would have come. + +There was no beating about the bush. "Father," Sally began soberly, +"don't you think that mother ought to see some good doctor? I do." + +If her heart beat a little faster, as she spoke, there was no tremor +in her voice. + +Professor Ladue looked up. He had been prepared to throw back some +light answer and to see Sally smile in response; perhaps to hear her +chuckle. But, deuce take it, there was no knowing what that confounded +child would say next. It was presuming upon his good nature. It +occurred to the professor that he had been good-natured for an +unreasonably long time. He was surprised and he was annoyed. + +Meanwhile that confounded child was looking at him out of sombre gray +eyes, waiting for his reply. As the professor's look met those eyes, +they seemed to see right through him, and the sharp answer which +trembled on the tip of his tongue was left unsaid. It was astonishing +how often that happened. The professor was aware of it!--uncomfortably +aware--and the knowledge annoyed him the more. The professor was to be +excused. It is most unpleasant to have one's naked soul exposed to the +view of one's little daughter. One's soul needs to be a pretty good +sort of a soul to stand that, without making its owner squirm. And the +professor's soul was--well, it was his; the only one he had. But he +did squirm, actually and in the flesh. + +He tried to speak lightly, but his look shifted. He could not meet +Sally's eyes without speaking the truth. "What is the matter with +your mother, Sally?" he asked. "Stomach-ache or toothache?" + +Sally did not smile. "Her headaches. They are getting worse." + +"Pouf!" said the professor, with a wave of his hand. "Everybody has +headaches. What's a headache?" + +"I don't know," Sally replied, "and she doesn't and I think she ought +to." + +"The definition," remarked the professor coldly, "is to be found in +the dictionary, I have no doubt. You might look it up and tell her." + +"And so I think," Sally continued, as if he had not spoken, "that +mother ought to see a doctor; a doctor that knows about headaches." + +"Oh," said the professor, more coldly than before. "So you would like +to have a specialist called in; a specialist in headaches." + +"I don't know whether that's what you call them," Sally returned +bravely. "If it is, then I would." + +Her father had turned toward her, but he did not look at her. "Most +interesting!" He got a cigarette from the drawer and proceeded to beat +out some of the tobacco. "Doctor--er--what's-his-name, from the +village, wouldn't do, then?" + +"No, he wouldn't." There was just a suspicion of a quiver in Sally's +voice. "He doesn't know enough." + +"Indeed! You have not communicated your opinion of his knowledge, or +his lack of it, to him, I take it?" + +Sally shook her head. She could not have spoken, even if the question +had called for a reply. + +"Do you know what a specialist charges, Sally?" + +She shook her head again. + +"For taking a case like your mother's, Sally," he said slowly, "which +would be nuts to him, I have no doubt, his charge would be more, in a +week, than I could pay in ten years." + +"It is very important," Sally urged. "It is very important for +mother." + +The professor rose. "Much as I regret the necessity, I feel obliged to +decline." He made her a bow. "No specialists for this family. If your +mother feels the need of a physician, let her call Doctor +what's-his-name from the village." + +Sally turned to go without a word. + +"And, Sally," her father added, "be kind enough to tell your mother +that important matters at the college require my attention. She is not +to be alarmed if I fail to come in my usual train. I may be kept +late." + +The phrase sounded familiar. It was the old formula which Sally had +hoped would not be used again. She went out quietly, feeling +responsible. It was absurd, of course, but she could not help it. She +meant to find Fox and tell him; but not quite yet. She couldn't bear +it yet. + +The matters at the college must have been very important, for they--or +something--kept Professor Ladue late, as he had seemed to fear; the +important matters--or something--must have kept him too late for the +last train that night. To be sure, Sally did not know anything about +it, at the time. She had not indulged a hope of anything else, and had +gone to bed and to sleep as usual. For Sally was a healthy little +animal, and she was asleep in a very few minutes after her head had +touched the pillow. Her eyes may have been wet. Mrs. Ladue went to +bed, too. Her eyes were not wet, but there was an ache in her head and +another just above her heart. She may have gone to sleep at once or +she may not. It is conceivable that she lay there, with her two aches, +until after the last train had got in. + +It was the middle of the next forenoon before Sally got a chance to +tell Fox about it; and Fox listened, not too sympathetically. That +seemed to him to be the best way to treat it. He would have made light +of it, even, for Sally was oppressed by the sense of her own +responsibility; but Sally would have none of it. + +"Don't, Fox, please," she said. + +"Well," he replied, "I won't, then. But don't you worry, Sally. We'll +have your mother fixed up, all right, yet." + +"How?" she asked. + +"I haven't decided. But I'm going to bend the whole power of a great +mind to the question. When I've found the best way to do it, I'm going +to do it. You'll see." + +Sally sighed with relief. She had not got beyond the stage of thinking +that Fox could do anything that he tried to do. Perhaps he could. + +They were down by the gate, Fox leaning upon it and Sally standing on +a bar and swinging it gently. Occasionally she looked down the road. + +"Here comes father," she said suddenly, in a low voice. + +"Stay where you are, Sally." Fox checked her impulse to run. + +The professor was walking fast and he came in at the gate almost +immediately. Sally had dismounted. He looked annoyed and would have +passed without a word. + +"Good-morning," said Fox cheerfully. + +The professor turned, giving Fox one of his smiles which was not a +smile at all. If the professor had chanced to turn one of those smiles +upon a too confiding dog, the dog would have put his tail between his +legs and run. Vivisection came after. + +"Good-morning," said the professor acidly. "I shall be obliged to +delay our session for an hour." + +"Very well, sir, whenever it is convenient for you." And Fox smiled +cheerfully again. + +The professor turned once more. His eyes were bloodshot, he was +unshaven, and--well, tousled. In short, the professor looked as if he +had been sitting up all night. He had. + +"You see," said Sally solemnly. Her father was out of hearing, as may +be supposed. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Professor Ladue had had a relapse. There was no doubt about it. It was +rather serious, too, as relapses are apt to be; but what could be +expected? He had been good for a long time, a very long time for him. +It was even an unreasonably long time for him, as had occurred to him, +you will remember, in the course of his conversation with Sally, and +nobody had any right to expect more. What Mrs. Ladue and her daughter +Sally thought they expected was really what they hoped. They did not +expect it, although they thought that they did; and the proof is that, +when the first relapse happened, they were not surprised. They were +deeply discouraged. The future looked pretty black to Sally as she +swung there on the gate. It looked blacker yet when the professor did +it twice again in one month. That was in March. But the worst was to +come. It was lucky that Sally did not know it. It is always lucky that +we do not know, at one blow, all that is to happen to us. Our courage +might not survive that blow. Instead, it has a chance to grow with +what it feeds upon. + +So Sally went her daily round as cheerfully as she could. That was not +any too cheerfully, and her unexpected chuckles became as rare as +roses in December. Even her smiles seemed to be reserved for her +mother and to be tender rather than merry. She watched the progress of +her mother's disease, whatever it was, with solicitude and anxiety, +although she tried desperately hard not to show her mother how anxious +she was. + +Mrs. Ladue's progress was very slow; imperceptible, from day to day, +and she had her ups and downs. It was only when she could look back +for a month or more that Sally was able to say to herself, with any +certainty, that her mother was worse--that the downs had it. But +always, when Sally could look back and compare, she had to confess to +herself that that was so. The headaches were no more frequent nor did +they seem to be harder to bear; but her mother seemed--it was a +struggle for Sally to have to acknowledge it, even to herself--her +mother seemed to be growing stupid. Her intelligence seemed to be +diminishing. What was Fox thinking of, to let that happen? + +When this question presented itself, Sally was again swinging moodily +upon the gate, regarding the muddy road that stretched out before her. +Charlie was playing somewhere behind her, equipped with rubber boots +and a heavy coat. It is to be feared that Sally had forgotten Charlie. +It was not her habit to forget Charlie. And it is to be feared that +she was forgetting that the last day of March had come and that it was +warm and springlike, and that there were a number of birds about. It +was not her habit to forget any of those things either, especially the +birds. There was a flash of blue under a tree near by and, a few +seconds later, a clear song rang out. Charlie stopped his play and +looked, but Sally did not see the blue wings nor the ruddy breast nor +did she seem to hear the song. + +That question had brought her up short. She stopped her rhythmic +swinging to and fro. + +"I'll ask him," she said. Her faith in Fox was absolute. + +She opened the gate quickly, and started to run. + +There was a roar from Charlie. "Sally! Where you goin'? Wait for me! I +want to go, too. I'm awful hot. Can't I take off my coat? An' these +boots are hot. I want to take 'em off." + +Sally sighed and waited. "I'm afraid I forgot you, Charlie. Take off +your coat, if you're too hot, and leave it by the gate." + +Charlie had the overcoat off and he dropped it by the side of the +footpath. + +"Not there, Charlie," Sally said impatiently. "Inside the gate. We +don't leave overcoats by the side of the road." + +"You didn't say inside," Charlie returned sulkily. "I left it where +you said." He opened the gate and cast the offending garment inside. +"And these boots--can I take 'em off?" + +"No," said Sally sharply, "of course not. If your feet are hot they'll +have to stay hot. You can't go in your stocking feet in March." + +"I don't see why not," grumbled Charlie. "I could take my stockings +off, too." + +Sally made no reply to this protest. She took his hand in hers. "Now, +run, Charlie. I'm in a hurry." + +So Charlie ran as well as a small boy can run in rubber boots and +along a path that is just muddy enough to be exceedingly slippery. +When they came to the corner that they had to turn to go to Fox's, he +was almost crying and Sally was dragging him. They turned the corner +quickly and almost ran into Henrietta. + +"Oh!" cried Henrietta, startled. "Why, Sally!" + +Charlie laughed. "Why didn't you go faster, Sally? Then we might have +run into her--plump." + +He laughed again, but got no attention from Sally. + +"Where's Fox?" she asked. + +"He went into town this morning," Henrietta answered. "He told me to +tell you to cheer up. I don't know what it's about, but probably you +do. I was just on my way to tell you. Come on. Let's go back to your +house." + +Sally gave a sigh of relief. Fox had not forgotten, after all. There +was nothing to do but to wait; but Sally was rather tired of waiting. + +"Well, Henrietta," she said, "then we will. But I want to see Fox as +soon as ever I can." + +Fox at that moment was sitting in the private office of a physician--a +specialist in headaches--and was just finishing his story. He had +mentioned no names and it was hardly conceivable that he was talking +about himself. Fox did not look like a person who was troubled with +any kind of aches. + +That seemed to be the opinion of the doctor, at any rate. It would +have been your opinion or mine. + +"I take it that you are not the patient," he said, smiling. + +That doctor was not the type of the grasping specialist; he did not +seem to be the kind of man who would charge as much as a patient would +be likely to be able to pay--all that the traffic would bear. But who +is, when you come to know them? Probably the doctors of that type, in +any large city, could be counted on the fingers of one hand. I know of +one conspicuous example, and one only, and he is dead now. But he +squeezed out large fees while he lived, and became very rich; and he +was so busy with his squeezing that he had no time to enjoy his +gains--I had almost said his ill-gotten gains. But that is by the way. + +This doctor of Fox's--we will call him Doctor Galen, for the sake of a +name--this Doctor Galen was a kindly man, who had sat leaning one +elbow on the table and looking out at Fox under a shading hand and +half smiling. That half smile invited confidence, and, backed by the +pleasant eyes, it usually got it. Whether that was the sole reason for +its being is beside the question; but probably it was not. + +In response to the doctor's remark, Fox smiled, too, and shook his +head. + +"Am I to see this patient of yours?" asked Doctor Galen casually. + +Fox was distinctly embarrassed. "Is it absolutely necessary, Doctor?" +he asked, in return. "It is difficult to arrange that--without a +complete change of base," he added. "It might be done, I suppose, but +I don't see how, at this minute." + +"The only reason that it might be necessary," said the doctor, +speaking slowly, "is that you may have neglected some symptom that is +of importance, while seeming to you to be of no consequence whatever. +It is always desirable to see a patient. I have to take into account, +for example, the whole life history, which may be of importance--and +it may not." + +Fox made no answer to this, but he looked troubled and he drummed with +his fingers upon his knee. + +"Can't we assume the patient to be--merely for the sake of fixing our +ideas--" Doctor Galen continued, looking away and searching for his +example, "well--er--Professor Ladue? Or, no, he won't do, for I saw +him a few days ago, in quite his usual health. Quite as usual." + +"You know Professor Ladue, then, Doctor?" + +"Oh, yes, I know him," the doctor replied dryly. "Well, as I said, he +won't do. Let us suppose that this case were that of--er--Mrs. Ladue." +The doctor looked at Fox and smiled his pleasant smile. "She will +answer our purpose as well as another." + +"Do you know Mrs. Ladue, too?" + +"No," said Doctor Galen. "No, I have not that pleasure. But I know her +husband. That," he added, "may be of more importance, in the case we +have assumed--with the symptoms as you have related them." + +Fox smiled very slightly. "Well, suppose that it were Mrs. Ladue, +then,--as an instance. Assuming that I have given all the symptoms, +what should you say was the matter with her?" + +Doctor Galen did not answer for some minutes. "Well," he said at last, +"assuming that you have given all the symptoms correctly--but you +can't have given them all. I have no means of knowing whether there is +any tendency to hardening of the walls of the arteries. How old is +she?" he asked suddenly. + +Fox was startled. "I'm sure I don't know," he answered. "Say that she +is thirty-odd--not over thirty-five." + +"That is not likely, then," the doctor resumed, "although it is +possible. I should have to see her to be sure of my ground. But, +assuming that there are no complications,--_no_ complications,--there +is probably a very slight lesion in the brain. Or, it may be that the +walls of the arteries in this neighborhood"--the doctor tapped his +head--"are very thin and there is a gradual seepage of blood through +them. To tell the truth, Mr. Sanderson, we can't know very exactly +what is happening until skulls are made of plate glass. But the remedy +is the same, in this case, whatever is happening, exactly." + +"What is the treatment?" + +"Oh," said Doctor Galen, apparently in surprise, "there is no +treatment. In the hypothetical case which we have assumed, I should +prescribe rest--absolute rest, physical and mental. We must give those +arteries a chance, you know; a chance to build up and grow strong +again. There is the clot to be absorbed, too. It is likely to be very +slight. It may be completely absorbed in a short time. Given time +enough, I should expect a complete recovery." + +"How much time?" Fox asked. + +"That depends upon how far she has progressed and upon how complete a +mental rest she can get. It might be any time, from a few weeks to a +few years." + +Fox hesitated a little. "Then, I suppose, any--er--anxiety might +interfere?" + +"Any mental disturbance," Doctor Galen replied decidedly, "would most +certainly retard her recovery. It might even prevent it altogether. +Why, she ought not to think. I hope she has not got so far that she is +unable to think?" + +"No, not yet," Fox sighed and rose. "It's not so simple as you might +suppose. But I'm grateful to you, Doctor. I'll see what can be done +and I may call upon you again." He put his hand to his pocket. "Shall +I pay you now?" + +Doctor Galen smiled as he checked Fox's motion. "Hadn't you better +wait until you get my bill? Yes, wait if you please." + +That smile of Doctor Galen's seemed to envelop Fox in an atmosphere of +kindliness. "You'll send one, Doctor?" he asked doubtfully. + +"How do you suppose, sir," said the doctor, smiling more than +ever,--he seemed really amused, that doctor,--"how do you suppose, +sir, that I should pay my grocer, otherwise? You have put yourself +into the clutches of a specialist, Mr. Sanderson. We are terrible +fellows. You are lucky to escape with your life." + +"Well," Fox replied, laughing, "I thank you again, Doctor, at any +rate; and for letting me escape with my life." + +The doctor let him out by a door that did not open into the outer +office. + +"Let me know how you come on with your schemes," the doctor said. "I +am really interested. And, if you find it possible to give me a +half-hour with your patient, I hope you will do so. It will be much +better. Good-bye, Mr. Sanderson." + +"I will," said Fox. "Good-bye, Doctor." + +The doctor shut the door and touched a button on his desk. He was +still smiling. A nurse appeared noiselessly. + +"A nice boy, that, Miss Mather, and a deserving case," he commented. +"I should be glad to be able to believe that all my patients were as +deserving. But I shouldn't make much," he added. + +Miss Mather smiled, but made no other reply. The doctor was looking +over a little pile of cards. He took up the card from the top of the +pile. + +"Mrs. Van Hoofe, Miss Mather." + +The nurse disappeared as noiselessly as she had come; and the doctor +proceeded to smooth out his smile and to assume a properly sympathetic +expression. Mrs. Van Hoofe would, perhaps, help him with his grocer's +bills. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Fox was not immediately able to compass the end that was so much to be +desired, but he did it, at last, not without misgivings. If Professor +Ladue had known, what would he have thought--and said--about such +interference with his domestic affairs? There were misgivings on Mrs. +Ladue's part, too, and Fox had to overcome those. She was in no +condition to combat Fox's wish, poor lady!--especially as it was her +own wish, so far as she had any wish in the matter; and she knew that +Sally had her heart set upon it. This is the way it happened. + +Sally had been regular in her attendance at the dancing-class, all +winter, and she had applied herself conscientiously to learn what she +went to learn, with more or less success. There is no doubt that she +learned the steps, but there is no less doubt that she failed to get +the Spirit of Dancing. Indeed,--I speak with hesitation,--the Spirit +of Dancing is born, not made. And how should Sally get it if she did +not have it already? How should she get it if she did have it already, +for that matter? It is not a thing that can be bought; it resembles +happiness in that respect. And, although one may buy a very fair kind +of an imitation of either, the real thing comes from within. Henrietta +had had the Spirit of Dancing born in her; in regard to Sally there is +some doubt. + +So, if Sally's success was not glittering, it was better than +Henrietta had feared it would be, and she breathed a sigh of relief at +the close of the last day. Sally breathed a sigh of relief, too. She +was unaffectedly glad that it was over. Mrs. Ladue, then experiencing +one of her ups, planned a party for Sally and invited the whole +dancing-class to it. It was to be a birthday party and was to be on +the nineteenth of April, when Sally would have completed her eleventh +year. Sally had always been glad that her birthday happened to come on +the nineteenth of April, for it was a great help in remembering +Leading Dates in American History--or one of them, at least. + +They neglected to apprise the professor of the plan, no doubt through +forgetfulness. For, how could he fail to be pleased that his daughter +was to have a birthday party? He did not find it out until the +seventeenth, two days before the event, and then only through the +inadvertence of the caterer, who asked him some question about it. The +caterer was a new man. He had been employed by Mr. Sanderson. Upon +hearing this announcement and without giving the man any reply to his +questions, Professor Ladue rushed off to town. He did not even leave +word, at home, that Mrs. Ladue must not be alarmed if he failed to +make his train. Fox happened to see him walking to and fro on the +station platform, evidently fuming, and to guess where he was going +and why. + +We may be very sure that Fox did not tell Mrs. Ladue, but she found it +out the next morning and immediately proceeded to have a down. The up +having had its turn, the down was due, of course, but it was a very +bad down. Fox telephoned for Doctor Galen. + +Doctor Galen came out that afternoon. Sally had not been told, but she +knew, somehow, and she was waiting for him by the gate. + +"Doctor," she said, "will you let me get you anything that you want +and--and wait on mother? Will you?" + +The doctor smiled down at her. "Why, my dear little girl--" he began, +looking into the earnest gray eyes. He did not finish as he had +intended. "I thank you," he said. "If I need anything, you shall get +it for me. And you shall wait upon your mother to your heart's +content. But I can't tell how much waiting upon she will need until I +have seen her." + +"Thank you!" Sally cried softly. "I'm glad. I'll take you to mother." +They started towards the house together. "Oh, I forgot," she added, +turning toward him. "I'm Sally Ladue." + +The doctor smiled down at her once more. "I gathered as much," he +replied, "putting this and that together. I guess that your mother and +your father are proud of their little girl." + +"I don't think that father is," Sally returned soberly. + +The doctor's eyes twinkled. "Why, that would be very strange. By the +way, where is your father? In town, at the college?" + +Sally flushed to the roots of her hair. "I think he is in town," she +answered, looking carefully straight before her. + +"Of course, he must have classes." The doctor had noted that fiery +flush and had drawn his inference. "One would think," he continued, +more to himself than to Sally, "that--er--one would think--" It was +none of his business, he reflected, and he could not see, for the life +of him, how--"Which is your mother's room, Sally?" + +They were just entering the house and the doctor was pulling off his +gloves. + +"Oh, I'll take you up." + +Doctor Galen came out after about half an hour. "Now, Sally," he said +cheerfully, "we'll have her all right again, in time. It may take +quite a long time, so don't you get impatient if it seems slow, will +you, Sally?" + +"I'll try not to." Her lip quivered and she began to sob. + +"I'm c--crying bec--cause I'm g--glad." Then her sobs stopped suddenly +and she looked up at the doctor; but the tears rolled down her cheeks. +"Mother can't hear me?" + +"No, you blessed child. You come with me, Sally, and cry as much as +you like. It'll do you good. And I'll stay until you get through." + +So it happened that Fox found them behind a big tree, out of sight +from the house, Sally contentedly crying into the doctor's coat. +Henrietta had gone on. + +"She's all right, Mr. Sanderson. It has done her good to cry. I think +she's about through, now." + +Sally stopped crying and smiled at them both. "I'm so glad, Fox," she +said. + +Fox looked inquiringly at the doctor. "Your opinion, then, is that she +will get well?" + +"Yes, if there are no complications. I shouldn't expect any." + +Sally, who had been waiting, apparently, to hear the doctor say this +once more, murmured something about her mother and started for the +house, running. She overtook Henrietta. + +"Sally," continued the doctor, "seems to be a dear child--" + +"She is." + +"And her father seems to be--well, it isn't necessary for us to say +what." + +Fox laughed. + +"There is only one thing--only one which looms up plainly. You and I +have got to think of some way to get Mrs. Ladue away from her present +surroundings. It would answer the purpose quite as well--perhaps +better," the doctor added thoughtfully,--"if her husband could be +removed from the environment. I am speaking rather plainly." + +Fox nodded. "I understand," he said. "It is not impossible that +Providence and Professor Ladue, working together, may accomplish that. +I don't know how," he admitted, seeing the question in the doctor's +eyes, "but I think there is going to be an explosion in that college, +some day, soon. Professor Ladue--" + +"Pig!" murmured Doctor Galen, under his breath. + +"Had better look out," Fox finished. "By the way, Doctor, shall we +have the party that we had planned for to-morrow--Sally's birthday--or +had we better call it off?" + +"If you can keep them out of the house," answered the doctor slowly, +"and if they don't make too much noise, I see no objection to it. Mrs. +Ladue will probably sleep through it. I have left a mild +sleeping-potion--I want to keep her dozing, at any rate, for some +days. Arrangements all made, I suppose?" + +"They can be unmade easily enough." + +"No, no. It isn't worth while. Let Sally have her party. I'll come to +it, myself. You tell her so, will you, Mr. Sanderson?" + +So Sally had her party. The knowledge that she had it was some comfort +to Mrs. Ladue, who, in her comfortable, half-asleep condition, was +dimly conscious--and glad--that her illness had made no difference in +the plans for Sally. And Doctor Galen had come; ostensibly to the +party. To be sure, he spent more than half the time with Mrs. Ladue, +mounting the stairs silently, once in a while. Then, if she was +sleeping, he would stand and watch her, observing every movement, +voluntary and involuntary. They all meant something to him; most of +them told him something. If she was not sleeping, she would open her +eyes and smile vaguely, being still in that comfortable, dozing state +when nothing seems to matter much. Then the doctor would enjoin +silence by raising his hand, and she would smile again and close her +eyes while he took a turn about the room, quietly, but not so quietly +as to make his patient nervous. + +It was fortunate that the day was pleasant and warm, for that made it +possible to spread the table at some distance from the house, where +the noise would not disturb Mrs. Ladue. Doctor Galen leaned against a +tree and looked on at the happy crew. When they seemed to be about +through their eating and talking, he beckoned to Sally, who came to +him at once. + +"I must go now, Sally," he said. "Your guests will be going pretty +soon, I suppose. You won't let them make too much noise near the +house?" + +"Why," Sally asked, startled, "is mother--" + +"Your mother is doing just what I want her to do," the doctor +replied, interrupting her. "She is doing very well, indeed. It's only +a precaution, my dear little girl. I don't want you to worry, Sally. +I'll look out for your mother. You needn't do anything but follow the +directions I gave you. You can do that easily. And don't worry, Sally, +whatever happens." + +The quick tears had rushed to Sally's eyes as Doctor Galen spoke. "Oh, +yes, indeed, I can," she said, "and I won't." This speech was not as +clear as it might have been, and Sally realized it. "Oh, I mean--" + +"I know what you mean," the doctor returned, patting her shoulder. +"You're a good girl, Sally. Now, I must go." + +When the doctor went out at the gate, a few minutes later, he was +smiling. I don't know what he was smiling at, but it may have been at +the recollection of a kiss which Sally had just bestowed upon him. It +had taken him somewhat by surprise. It had been almost as much of a +surprise to Sally. + +"Well," he said to himself, "that was pretty good pay, considering. +But it's just as well that the Mrs. Van Hoofes don't--Hello!" + +For there, before him, was Professor Ladue, walking rapidly, his eyes +red and bloodshot, and looking generally tousled. The doctor glanced +at him, took in these details, and decided quickly that it would be +wiser not to speak. Accordingly, he passed the professor with no more +than a bow. The professor glared at him, bowed shortly, then half +turned. + +"A lovely spring afternoon, Doctor," he said, clearly and coldly, with +the grimace which did duty for a smile. It was even less like one than +usual. + +"Charming!" the doctor replied. + +"I should not suppose," continued the professor, almost snarling, +"that a man of your engagements would have time for profitless +excursions into the country." + +"Ah," the doctor returned, smiling, "but it was not profitless. I +have been to a birthday party; the party of Miss Sally Ladue." + +What reply should the professor have made to that? The professor, at +least, did not know. He turned, again, without a word. + +Doctor Galen looked after him, still smiling. Then he, too, turned +again. "I am sorry for Sally," he murmured, sighing. "But Sanderson is +there. He must get her out of it somehow." + +Sanderson could not get her out of it, as it happened. The little +bunch of guests was halfway down the walk, laughing and talking; even +Sally laughed a little, although she did not talk much, and her eye +was alert for anybody who might come in at the gate. She hoped, +fervently, that nobody would come in at that gate until the girls were +out of it and safe at home. Then her father emerged from behind the +screen of bushes along the wall and swung the gate wide. + +Sally gave one look. "Oh, Fox!" she cried. + +But Fox had seen and had run forward. + +"Why such haste, Mr. Sanderson?" sneered the professor. "Why such +haste? I require no assistance." + +He went on toward the house, smiling at the girls as he passed. The +way opened quickly before that smile of the professor's, and the +laughter and the talk died. The effect was astonishing. And while he +made his way rapidly onward, closely followed by Fox, the group of +Sally's guests fairly melted away. Once outside the gate, and behind +the sheltering screen, they ran. + +Sally met Fox just coming out. + +"It's all right, Sally," he said. "I persuaded him that no noise is to +be made. I persuaded him." + +Sally looked at Fox in wonder. "It didn't take long." + +"No, it didn't take long." There were curious firm lines about Fox's +mouth and his voice was not quite steady. What the nature of the +persuasion was, which was so effective and in so short a time, Sally +was not likely to know. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Professor Ladue was rather more out of sorts with the world in general +than was usual on such occasions. He was very much out of sorts with +the world in general and with three of its inhabitants in particular: +with his wife, because he was unable, for reasons which Fox had made +clear to him in a very short time, to wreak his ill temper upon her; +with Fox, because he had succeeded so well in making those reasons +clear; and with Doctor Galen, because he was sure that the doctor was +attending Mrs. Ladue. Perhaps I should have said that the professor +was out of sorts with four persons in particular. The fourth person +was Sally. It is hard to see why he should have been put out with her, +who had done nothing to deserve it. But she was good and dutiful and +she saw through him clearly enough; and by so doing she kindled in him +a feeling of helpless resentment. + +Of course, we know very well that the professor's behavior was, +itself, the real cause of his feeling. The professor knew that well +enough. He was not dull-witted, whatever else he was. And, because he +knew it, he raged; and, because there was no outlet for his rage, he +raged the more, coldly. Those cold rages of his fairly scared Sally, +and she was not easily scared. + +His rage was not any the less because of a letter that Sally brought +up to him, late in the afternoon. She had shrunk from seeing him, but +the letter was from the college, bearing the university arms in the +corner, and it was for special delivery. So Sally thought that it +might be very important. There was no one else to take it to her +father, so she took it, and, in obedience to his brief command, and +with great inward relief, she tucked it under his door. + +The letter was important, although not in the way that Sally had +surmised. It was from the provost of the university of which the +professor's college was a part, written with the venerable provost's +own hand and apparently in some haste. It stated that Mr. Ladue had, +that very day, been seen, by the provost and by one other member of +the governing body, to issue from a well-known gambling-house. That +fact, coupled with the rumors which had persisted for a year or two +past, made it imperative that Mr. Ladue should appear before the Board +of Governors, at their next meeting, to clear himself; or, if he +preferred, Mr. Ladue might send in his resignation at once, such +resignation to take effect at the close of the college year. + +That was all. One would think that it was quite enough. Professor +Ladue looked up from his brief reading. + +"Ah!" he cried airily. "The honorable provost addresses me as Mr. +Ladue. _Mr._ Ladue. And so I am to appear before the Board of Governors +for the purpose of clearing myself--of what? I am accused of coming out +of a house. After all, it is a very quiet, respectable-looking house, +indeed, in a quiet street, rubbing elbows with other quiet, +respectable-looking houses. Does it happen that the honorable provost +and that other member of the governing body have seen more than the +outside of that house? Do I appear before the Board of Governors? I do +not. And do I send in my resignation like a good little boy? I think +not. The honorable provost is a fool. I will write him a letter and +tell him so." + +So saying, the professor--we may call him the professor for almost the +last time--the professor went to his desk and wrote the letter. He was +in just the mood to write such a letter and it is to be remembered +that he dealt naturally in caustics. Consequently, the letter was an +excellent letter; it was exactly what it was meant to be. It was a +model of its kind. There is little doubt that it was a poor kind and +that it was very unwise to send it. Having been written, it should +have been burned--utterly destroyed. It would have served its purpose +better. But the professor was in no mood to do what was merely wise. +He was pleased with the letter, proud of it. He was so pleased with it +that he read it over three times. Then he laughed and signed it. + +"That will, perhaps, make them sit up. It would give me some pleasure +to be present when he reads it." The professor gazed out into the +great tree, musing pleasantly. "No, it can't be done. It is a matter +of regret that it cannot." + +He sealed the letter and went out, at once, to mail it. He was quite +cheerful as he took his hat and his stick from the rack in the hall; +so cheerful that Charlie, who happened to catch sight of him, was +encouraged to hail him. He answered pleasantly, even buoyantly, so +that Sally was sure that she had been right and that the letter which +she had carried up had been important. + +The cheerfulness of the professor was spurious, but, such as it was, +it lasted, unimpaired, until the letter was posted. The mail was just +going out, and the postmaster, obliging as postmasters invariably are, +held it long enough to slip in the letter to the provost. The +professor saw it go; then doubts began to assail him, and his +cheerfulness ebbed. He stood irresolute until he heard the train. It +was useless to stand irresolute longer. It is always useless to stand +irresolute for any length of time whatever. The professor knew that +very well. With a quick compression of the lips, he turned homeward. +He was no longer cheerful. + +No doubt I was wrong in speaking of him as the professor that last +time. He was, henceforth, to be Mr. Ladue. His professorial career had +been cut off by that letter to the provost as cleanly and as suddenly +as by a sharp axe. That would be true of any college. Mr. Ladue did +not deceive himself about that. There was a need of adjustment to the +new conditions, and he set himself the task of thinking out just what +the new conditions were. He was so busy with his thinking that he +nearly ran into a young man. The young man had just issued from Mr. +Ladue's own gate. But was it his gate? Mr. Ladue happened to have got +to that very matter. There seemed to be a reasonable doubt of it; +indeed, as he progressed farther in his thinking-out process and his +recollection emerged from the fog of habit, there seemed to be no +doubt that it was not his gate at all and that he had been allowed to +think of it as his and to call it his, purely on sufferance. + +For he remembered, with a shock, a thoughtless moment, a moment of +inadvertence,--a moment of insanity,--in which he had made over the +place to his wife, Sarah. He had got into the habit of forgetting all +about it. Now it was necessary that he should get out of that habit. +He had never regretted that act more keenly than at that moment. It +was the act of a madman, he told himself impatiently. + +As these thoughts passed rapidly through his mind, the aforesaid young +man had gone on his way. If he was to speak, he must speak quickly. + +He turned. "Oh, Fox," he said casually, "I am afraid I was rather +abrupt a short time ago. Pray accept my apologies." + +It was a new rôle for Mr. Ladue. It cost him something to assume it, +but it was necessary to his purposes that he should. This was one of +the new conditions which must be faced. It was an opportunity which +must be seized before it ceased to be. For Fox it was a totally new +experience to receive an apology from a man like Mr. Ladue. The +experience was so new that he blushed with embarrassment and +stammered. + +"Oh,--er--that's all right. Certainly. Don't apologize." He managed to +pull himself together, knowing that what he had said was not the right +thing at all. "And, Professor," he added, "shall we resume our studies +when Mrs. Ladue is better?--when she will not be disturbed?" + +Fox did not know as much about Mr. Ladue's affairs as we know, or he +might not have called him by that title. But yet he might. + +"To be sure," answered Mr. Ladue, apparently in surprise; "why not? +Is she in a condition to be disturbed by such little matters? I had +rather expected to see her, to talk over an important question." If +Fox chose to infer that the important question related to certain +delinquencies of his own, why, let him think so. + +"I am afraid that will be impossible for some time," Fox replied +firmly. "Dr. Galen left instructions that she is, on no account, to be +disturbed. She is not to be compelled to think. It seems to be +important. His instructions were explicit and emphatic on that point." + +"Ah," Mr. Ladue remarked calmly. "So Dr. Galen is running my house." + +"Yes." There was no lack of firmness in Fox's voice, although he was +not flushing now. "Dr. Galen is running your house. That is the +situation exactly." + +"And may I ask," Mr. Ladue inquired coldly,--"may I venture to ask how +it happens that a specialist--one of the most expensive in the +city--is in such a position that he can assume to do so?" + +"Certainly you may. I will try to make it clear that it was necessary, +but it will not alter the situation if I fail. Immediately after your +leaving for town, Mrs. Ladue had one of her attacks. It seemed to +Sally--and to me--essential that she should have expert advice at +once. So--in your absence--I sent for Dr. Galen. I am very glad that I +did." + +"Do you know what his price will be?" + +"I do not. What difference does it make? Mrs. Ladue's life may depend +upon her having the best advice there is to be had." + +Mr. Ladue did not answer immediately. He could not well say to Fox +that that was a matter of less importance to himself than the price +that would be charged. Besides, he was not sure that it mattered to +him what Dr. Galen charged. He had no intention of paying it. They +ought to have known that they could not saddle him with their bills +without his consent. Further than that---- + +"It's all right, of course, Fox," said Mr. Ladue pleasantly, looking +up. "I didn't realize that Mrs. Ladue's condition was serious. Thank +you. Come in as soon as you think it advisable and we will continue +our studies. Good-night." + +"Good-night." Fox turned away with a curious mingling of feeling +toward Mr. Ladue. He could not help feeling grateful to him, yet he +did not trust him. What next? + +That was precisely the question Mr. Ladue was asking himself as he +walked slowly toward the house. What next? It was most unfortunate +that he could not see his wife, most unfortunate. If he could have the +chance to talk to his wife, Sarah, now, he thought he could persuade +her. Give him but five minutes and he was sure he could persuade her. +He would do better to have the papers ready. He wondered whether he +dared; and, for an instant, he entertained the idea of having that +talk, in spite of Fox and of Dr. Galen. He thought upon it. + +"No," he said to himself, "it wouldn't do, under the circumstances. It +wouldn't do. We'll have to give that up." + +Mr. Ladue deserved no credit for deciding to give that up. It is to be +feared that the possibility of evil consequences to his wife, Sarah, +played no part in forcing him to that decision. The important thing is +that he did so decide. In the short time that remained before dinner, +he walked to and fro in his room, thinking hard. He could do that very +well when he applied himself to it. At dinner he was unexpectedly +pleasant, giving Sally a sense of security that was not at all +justified by the event. In that, no doubt, he was doing just what he +intended. + +That evening, having devoted a certain brief time to thinking to some +purpose, he packed his bag and wrote a short note to his wife. It is +immaterial what he said in that note, but he ended it with these +words: "So you may keep your place, madam, and much good may it do +you. In fact, I think that you will have to keep it. You could not +give a good deed or a good mortgage without my signature." It seemed +an entirely uncalled-for evidence of his ill humor. What had Mrs. +Ladue done to deserve it? + +In the morning he came to breakfast as usual, and again he was very +pleasant. Indeed, he was so pleasant that the fact excited Sally's +suspicions. He was not usually so pleasant on the morning after. And +when he had gone to his customary train--carrying a bag, Sally +noted--she found his note, sealed, and addressed, in her father's +well-known scrawling hand, to her mother. She took possession of the +note. Of only one thing was she sure and that was that no note written +by her father--and sealed--was going to be delivered to her mother; at +least, not without advice. + +Later she showed the note to Fox; and he, being as uncertain what +ought to be done as Sally was, showed it to Dr. Galen. They three +decided, much against their will, to see what Mr. Ladue had said. + +"For," Dr. Galen observed, "Mrs. Ladue is not in condition to read a +note of any kind. She will not be in that condition for a week, at +least. It seems to me, Sally, that you should know what your father +says, especially in view of the circumstances. I advise you to open +it." + +"You do it," said Sally. + +So the doctor did it. "Of course," he remarked, as he slid the blade +of his knife under the flap, "if, on glancing at it, I see that it is +improper for me to read, I shall not read it. But if, as I fear--" + +He was reading it. "The cur!" he muttered, as he finished. He handed +it to Fox. "You read it, Mr. Sanderson." + +Fox read it and chuckled. "I ought not to laugh," he explained, "but +it is so--so futile. Delivery to Mrs. Ladue seems out of the question. +And, Sally," he went on, "you shall see this if you want to, but I +wish that you would not want to. Your father has gone, apparently." + +"Yes," said Sally, somewhat puzzled, "I know it; to the university?" + +"Not to the university, I think. He seems to have lit out. He says +something about getting another position suited to him. He says some +other things that it would give you only pain to read." + +Sally's face expressed a curious mingling of anxiety and relief. "I +won't read it if you don't want me to," she said. "But--but what--how +shall we get any money?" + +"Don't you worry about that. We'll manage to raise a few cents when we +need to." + +Fox had said "we" and that seemed to comfort Sally. Fox turned to the +doctor. + +"The environment has taken care of itself," he remarked; and the +doctor smiled. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +It was in all the papers. The honorable provost seemed to wish that +the fact of Professor Ladue's break with the authorities of the +university should be known, and he graciously allowed himself to be +interviewed on the subject once a week. As was to be expected, but one +side of the question was presented in these interviews, but that may +have worked no injury to Mr. Ladue, who received undeserved credit for +his silence. It was just as well. In none of those interviews did the +honorable provost give out the letter that Mr. Ladue had written. That +letter contained certain pointed passages which the press should not +get hold of, if he could help it. Mr. Ladue had some reason to be +proud. + +Then the reporters began to come out to Mr. Ladue's house, in the hope +of an interview with him. They did manage to get a few words with +Sally, but the words were very few and then Fox came in. So it came +about that Fox Sanderson spent most of his time, from breakfast-time +until bedtime, at the Ladues'. Naturally, Henrietta was there, too. +Sally was well content with any arrangement which brought them both +there all the time. + +Those would have been hard times with the Ladues if it had not been +for Fox Sanderson. Mrs. Ladue owned the place, to be sure, but she +owned very little else; hardly more than enough to pay the taxes. And +if Mr. Ladue had been a hard man to extract money from, at least he +had kept the tradesmen satisfied; or, if not satisfied, they were +never sufficiently dissatisfied to refuse to supply the necessities. +It was a different case now, and Sally wondered a good deal how they +contrived to get along. She knew that Fox was managing their affairs, +but things had been going on in this way for a long time before she +got to the point of wondering whether he was supplying the money. She +reached that point at last, and she asked Fox about it. + +She had waited until she got him alone and was sure that they would +not be interrupted. + +"Fox," she asked without preamble, "where do we get our money?" + +Fox was taken by surprise. He had not been expecting any question of +the kind. He found himself embarrassed and hesitating. + +"Why," he answered, not looking at her, "why--our money? Er--what do +you want to know for?" + +Sally was regarding him steadily. "Because," she replied, "I think I +ought to. Where do we get it?" + +"Oh, don't you care, Sally," said Fox carelessly. "We get it +honestly." + +Sally's earnest regard did not waver. "Of course we get it honestly. +But where? I think you ought to tell me, Fox. Do you give it to us?" + +Sally, bent upon the one purpose, had not thought of sitting down. She +stood squarely before Fox, her fingers interlocked before her, and +gazed up into his face. Fox shifted his weight to the other foot as +she asked the question. Then he laughed a little. + +"I give it to you! What an idea!" + +"But do you?" Sally insisted. "You haven't said you don't." + +"Let's sit down, Sally," said Fox, attempting a diversion. "Aren't you +tired?" + +"No, I'm not. But you sit down if you want to. Excuse me for keeping +you standing." + +Fox found a chair and seated himself comfortably. Sally again faced +him, still standing. + +"Aren't you going to sit down?" asked Fox, seemingly surprised. +"Please do. I can't be satisfied to sit, with you standing." He placed +a chair for her. + +"All right," Sally moved the chair around so that she would face him, +and sat down. + +"What a lovely summer day, Sally!" he said. "Isn't it, now?" + +Sally laughed. She would not be diverted. "Yes," she said. "But you +haven't answered my question." + +"Well," asked Fox, sighing, "what is the question?" There seemed to be +no escape. + +"Where do we get our money? Do you give it to us?" + +"But that," he remonstrated, "makes two questions." + +The quick tears rushed into Sally's eyes. "Oh, Fox, won't you tell +me?" + +Fox glanced at her and gave in at once. He told the strict truth, for +nothing less would do, for Sally. He couldn't have told anything else, +with those solemn, appealing gray eyes looking at him. + +"I'll tell you, Sally," he said quickly. "Just trust me." + +Sally smiled. It was like a burst of sunshine. "I do." + +"I know it," he returned, "and I'm proud of it. Well, I have been +advancing what money has been needed for the past three months. You +can't say I've given it to you. I'd rather say us, Sally. So you see, +you can't say I've given it to us, for we--Henrietta and I--have been +here so very much that we ought to pay something. We ought to +contribute. I don't like to call it board, but--" + +"Why not?" Sally asked, interrupting. "Why don't you like to call it +board?" + +"Well," Fox answered, rather lamely, "you don't take boarders, you +know." + +"I don't see," said Sally, brightening distinctly, "I can't see why we +don't--why we shouldn't, if mother's well enough. I've been thinking." + +"But that's just it. Your mother is not well enough for you to take +regular, ordinary boarders. You mustn't think of it." + +"Would you call you and Henrietta regular, ordinary boarders?" Sally +asked, after a few moments of silence. + +Fox laughed. "On the contrary, we are most irregular, extraordinary +boarders. But why, Sally? Would you like to have--" + +"Oh, yes," cried Sally at once. "I should like it very much. But I +don't know whether you would." + +"Yes, I should like it very much, too. But there have seemed to be +certain reasons why it wasn't best to live here." + +"But you live here now," Sally objected; "all but sleeping. We've got +rooms enough." + +"I'll think it over; and, if I think we can come, we will." + +"I hope you will. I should feel comfortabler. Because I don't see how +we can ever pay you back; at any rate, not for a long time. We should +have to wait until I'm old enough to earn money, or until Charlie is. +And I'm four years older." + +Fox smiled at the idea of waiting for Charlie. But Sally went on. + +"And there's another thing. There's Doctor Galen." + +"Oh, so the doctor's the other thing. I'll tell him." + +"The money that we have to pay him is the other thing." Sally was very +earnest. "Will it be much, do you think?" + +"Sally, don't you worry. I asked the doctor just that question and he +told me I had better wait until he sent his bill. He hasn't sent it +yet." + +"Well--will it be as much as a hundred dollars?" + +"It is possible that it may be as much as that." + +"Oh, will it be more?" Sally was distressed. When should she be able +to save--even to earn a hundred dollars. "We can't ever pay it, Fox; +not for years and years." + +Again Fox told her not to worry. She did not seem to hear him. She was +following her thought. + +"And, Fox, if you have to pay it, we shall owe you an awful lot of +money. Have--have you got money enough?" + +Fox Sanderson did not have an "awful lot" of money. That very question +had been giving him some anxiety. But he would not let Sally suspect +it. + +"I guess I'll be able to manage, Sally." + +"I hope so. And I've been thinking, Fox, that I ought to help." + +"Why, Sally, you do help. Just think of the things you do, every day, +helping about your mother, and about the house." + +"Yes," she returned, "but I mean about earning money. Those things +don't earn money. Couldn't I learn typewriting and go into somebody's +office? Or couldn't I teach? Do you have to know a lot of things, to +teach, Fox?" + +Fox smiled. "Some teachers that I have known," he answered, "haven't +known such an awful lot of things. But if you really want to teach, +Sally, you ought to be trained for it. At least," he added, more to +himself than to Sally, "that is the popular opinion." + +Again Sally was distressed. "Do you have to go to college, Fox?" + +"Well," answered Fox, smiling, "not exactly, but something of the +sort. There's a normal school or the training school for teachers, or +whatever they call it." + +"Oh, dear!" Sally wailed. "Everything takes so long! I wanted to do +something right away. Can't you think of anything, Fox?" + +"Not right off the bat. I'll see what thoughts I can raise on that +subject. But if I don't think of anything, would you like to plan to +be a teacher, Sally?" + +"If it would help mother, I would. If that's the best thing we can +think of. I'd do anything to help mother. I'd go out scrubbing or I'd +sell papers or--or anything." + +"Bless your heart!" Fox exclaimed under his breath. "Bless your dear +heart, Sally! You needn't go out scrubbing or washing dishes or +selling papers or anything of the kind. You can do better than that. +And your mother is likely to need your help about as much when you are +fitted for teaching as she does now." + +"Is--isn't mother getting better?" asked Sally, hesitating. + +"Yes," said Fox, "but very slowly; very slowly indeed. Doctor Galen +thinks it will be some years before she is herself again. Think, +Sally, how much better it will be for you to be getting ready. Suppose +she was well now. What would you and she do? How would the conditions +be different?" + +Sally murmured something about taking boarders. + +"Well," Fox observed, "I never have taken 'em and so I have no +experience with that end of it. But Henrietta and I have been boarding +for a good many years now--ever since mother died--and we have seen a +good deal of all kinds of boarders. On the average, they seem to be an +unmannerly and ungrateful lot. Don't you be a party to making 'em +worse, Sally. Don't you do it." + +Sally laughed. + +"Besides," he went on, "it's pretty apt to be humiliating." + +"I suppose that's something unpleasant," Sally said quietly, "and, of +course, it wouldn't be pleasant. I shouldn't expect it to be." + +"I don't believe there's any money in it." + +Sally paused a moment to digest that phrase. Then she sighed. + +"You know more about it than I do. I'll do just what you say, Fox." + +The gate clicked and they both looked around. + +"Here comes Henrietta," said Fox. "Now we'll all go out in the shade +and play. But, Sally," he added hastily, "have you got any rich +relatives?" + +"Rich relatives!" Sally exclaimed. "Not that I know of. Or, wait. +There's Miss Hazen--Martha Hazen. She's a cousin of father's, but I +don't know how rich she is. I've never seen her." + +"Where does she live?" + +"Up in Massachusetts, somewhere. I think she's queer." + +"The queerer the better. Your father's cousin, is she? It wouldn't be +strange. Can you find out where she lives, Sally?" + +Sally thought she could. "And, Fox," she reminded him,--she was afraid +he might forget,--"you see if you can't come here to live. Will you, +Fox?" + +He nodded. Henrietta was at the piazza steps. "I'll ask Doctor Galen +about it." + +"What'll you ask Doctor Galen about, Fox?" inquired Henrietta. "Are +you and Sally talking secrets?" + +"I'll ask the doctor what should be done with a very troublesome +little sister," he answered, smiling at her. + +"You might get rid of her by sending her off to boarding-school," +Henrietta remarked. "Not that she wants to go." + +"No boarding-school for you yet, young lady. There are one hundred +reasons why, and the first is--is so important that the ninety-nine +others don't matter." + +Fox had caught himself just in time. He had intended to say that he +didn't have the money. Well, he hadn't; but he didn't mean to tell +Sally so. + +"I suppose that first reason," said Henrietta, "is that you can't +spare me." + +"Wrong. That is the second. And the third is that you are too young. +Never mind the others. We are going out to play now, Henrietta." Sally +darted into the house. "Where are you going, Sally?" + +"After Charlie," she called softly. "I'll be right back. And let's be +sauruses!" + +"Sauruses it is," Fox returned. "I say, Henrietta, can you climb trees +as well as Sally?" + +"Well, not quite"--hesitating--"but I'm learning." + +"You live in a cave with Charlie," he said decidedly. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +To tell the truth, the question of money had been troubling Fox +somewhat, for he did not have an "awful lot," to use Sally's words. +There was enough for him and Henrietta to live upon in great comfort; +but when the amount which will support two people in comfort has to +take care of five, it needs to be spread pretty thin. To be sure, +there was no particular reason why Fox should have felt obliged to +look out for the Ladues. One wonders why he did it. That question had +occurred to him, naturally, but only to be dismissed at once, +unanswered. He could not leave that little family in their misfortunes +without visible means of support, and that was the end of it. + +These considerations will serve to explain Fox's state of mind: why he +felt it to be necessary to provide for Sally's future; to see to it +that she should have a future of any kind. They may also explain his +inquiries about rich relatives. Not that he had, at the moment, any +definite idea as to his course of action in the event that she had +such desirable and convenient appendages. In fact, it remained to be +seen whether they were either desirable or convenient. And he wished +very much that it might be considered no impropriety for him and +Henrietta to live at the Ladues'. It would simplify many matters. + +Doctor Galen, to whom he spoke, with some hesitation, of this wish of +his, reassured him. + +"I should say that it would be a very wise move," said the doctor, +smiling. "Where is the impropriety?" + +Fox murmured something about Professor Ladue and about his seeming to +take the management of his family out of the professor's hands. He +felt a little delicate about making any further move in the same +direction. + +"Pouf!" the doctor exclaimed scornfully. "Ladue has relinquished all +right to management, and it's a very fortunate thing that he has. Mrs. +Ladue will be very much of an invalid for a number of years, unless +all signs fail. There may be some prying people--but there are always. +You had better tell Sally that you will come at once. I think it most +necessary." + +Fox was distinctly relieved. He went on to tell the doctor of his +conversation with Sally. "And the other children--except +Henrietta--have fought shy of coming to see her since that day of the +party," he continued. "I suppose they were frightened. They have +scarcely been near her. Not that Sally seems to care. I think she is +glad when she thinks of them at all. But she has too much care. She +takes life too seriously. Why, that party was on her eleventh +birthday, and she wants to go out scrubbing or selling papers. +Anything to earn money. We can't let her feel so, Doctor; we just +can't." + +"Bless her!" said the doctor; "of course we can't. She needn't worry +about my bill, and you needn't. Between us, Sanderson, we must look +out for these three babes in the wood." + +"Thank you, Doctor." + +"And, Sanderson," the doctor pursued confidentially, "if you find +yourself short of money,--you might, you know,--just let me know. But +don't tell anybody, or the Assyrians will be upon me, like the wolf on +the fold; and their cohorts won't be gleaming with purple and gold. +Not of mine, they won't." + +Fox laughed. "Thank you again, Doctor. Thank you very much. But I +think I shall be able to carry my end, on that basis." + +Fox did carry his end. He and Henrietta moved to the Ladues' as soon +as they could, Fox into the professor's old room, with the skeleton of +the professor's little lizard on the floor, under the window, and with +the professor's desk to work at. He seemed to have been pushed by +chance into the professor's shoes, and he did not like it, +altogether. He made a faint-hearted protest at the room. + +Sally's eyes filled. "Why, Fox," she said, "it's the best room we've +got. Isn't it good enough?" + +"It's much too good, Sally. I don't expect or want such a good room." + +"Oh, is that all!" Sally was smiling now. "If it's good enough, I +guess you'll have to be satisfied. It's ever so much convenienter to +give you father's room." + +So Fox had to be satisfied. Henrietta had the room next Sally's own. +That arrangement was "convenienter," too. + +One of the first things he did at the professor's desk was to write a +letter to Miss Martha Havering Hazen. Sally had succeeded in finding +her address. + +"She lives in Whitby, Massachusetts," she announced. "I don't know the +name of the street, and I don't know how rich she is." + +With this, the affairs of Miss Martha Havering Hazen passed from +Sally's mind. She had other things to attend to. Fox wrote Miss Hazen +a letter in which he set forth, in a very business-like way, the +plight in which the Ladue family found themselves, his desire, and +Sally's, that Sally's future should be provided for, and the manner in +which it was proposed to provide for the aforesaid future. He finished +with the statement that the funds at his command were insufficient for +all the purposes which it was desired to accomplish, and he inquired +whether she were disposed to give any aid and comfort. Then, having +posted this, he waited for the answer. + +He waited for the answer so long that he began to fear that his letter +might not have reached Miss Hazen; then he waited until, at last, he +was convinced that she never received it, and he had begun to think +that she must be a myth. When he reached this conclusion, he was +sitting on the piazza and Sally and Henrietta and Doctor Galen were +coming up the path together. Sally had her hands behind her. She came +and stood before Fox, her eyes twinkling. + +"Well," she began. + +But Fox would not wait. "Sally," he said, interrupting her, "what +makes you think that Miss Martha Hazen is in existence at all. You've +never seen her. I'll bet there's no such a person and never was. She's +a myth." + +"What'll you bet?" she asked promptly. + +"Anything you like." + +"No, I won't bet, for it wouldn't be fair." This settled it for Sally. +In that respect she was different from her father. She was different +from her father in some other important respects, too. "Which hand +will you have, Fox?" + +"I guess I'd better have both." + +So Sally brought both hands around into view and cast a letter into +his lap. Her eyes danced. "There!" she said. "Now, what'll you bet?" + +Doctor Galen was leaning against the railing and Henrietta could not +keep still. + +"Oh, Fox," she cried, "open it and let's hear what she says. Sally +showed it to us and we know about it." + +"Open it, Sanderson," the doctor put in; "don't keep us all in the +dark. It's suspense that kills." + +So Sanderson opened it and read it. It was not a long letter. + +The others grew impatient. "Come, come," said the doctor, "tell us. It +doesn't matter what you wrote to her. What does she say?" + +"She says," said Fox, smiling, "that, as of course she didn't know me, +she has been obliged to have all my statements investigated. That +accounts for the delay. She has found them all to be true. Gratifying, +isn't it? But the important thing is that she offers to take Sally to +live with her and agrees to educate her properly--if Sally will go." + +They were all very sober and nobody spoke. Sally was solemn and the +tears came slowly. None of them had contemplated this, Sally least of +all. She felt as if there had been an earthquake or some such +convulsion of nature. + +"Well, Sally," Fox went on at last, in a low voice, "it seems to be up +to you. Will you go?" + +"Oh, I don't know," Sally's eyes were wide with anxiety and with +doubt, and the tears dropped slowly, one by one. "How can I, all of a +sudden? It's a tremendous surprise. I don't want to, but if it will +help more than staying at home, I'll go." Suddenly an idea seemed to +have struck her. It must have given her great relief, for the tears +stopped and she looked happy once more. "But," she said eagerly, "how +can I? Who will take care of mother? And what would we do with +Charlie? Really, Fox, I don't see how I can go." + +Strangely enough, Fox seemed to be relieved, too. At any rate, he +smiled as though he were. + +"Sure enough," he replied, "how can you? We might possibly manage +about your mother," he added, with a glance at the doctor, "but +Charlie is a problem." + +Doctor Galen had nodded, in answer to that glance of Fox's. "You +needn't worry about your mother, Sally," he said then. "We would take +good care of her. Do you know that I have a sanitarium for just such +patients? There are nurses and everything to make it convenient. And +there are no bothering children--with their brothers--always +underfoot." As he said that, the doctor smiled and rested his hand, +for a moment, on Henrietta's shoulder. Henrietta turned and laughed up +at him. + +"A base libel," Fox remarked. "But all that doesn't take care of +Charlie." + +"Might farm him out," the doctor suggested. "What do you think of that +idea, Sally?" + +"I don't believe I know what you mean," she answered. "Charlie +wouldn't be much good on a farm, although I suppose a farm would be a +good place for him. Some farms would," she added. + +"It depends on the farm, doesn't it?" said Fox. "It generally does. +But don't you care what the doctor meant, Sally. He didn't mean +anything, probably. We aren't going to farm Charlie out anyway. What +shall I say to Martha? That's the immediate point." + +Sally chuckled. "I'll write to Martha," she said, as soon as she could +speak; "that is, if you'll let me. I'll thank her ever so much for +offering to take me, and I'll tell her why I can't come. May I, Fox?" + +"All right." Fox tossed her the letter. "And, Sally," he called +softly, for she had started into the house, meaning to write her +letter at once. "Sally, if Martha answers your letter, you tell me +what she says." + +So Sally wrote to Martha. It took her a long time and she used up +several sheets of her mother's best note-paper before she got a letter +written that she was satisfied to send. Miss Hazen was longer in +replying, although she was not so long as she had been in replying to +Fox. Sally did not care. Indeed, she did not give the matter a +thought. She considered the question settled. + +It was not. Miss Hazen must have liked Sally's letter, for she +grudgingly consented to have Charlie come, too, if that was all that +stood in the way of Sally's acceptance of her offer. This was a +surprise to everybody; to none of them more than to Miss Hazen +herself. She had no liking for young children. But she did it. There +seemed to be no escape for Sally now, and she put the letter in Fox's +hand without a word. + +"What's the matter, Sally?" he asked, shocked at her tragic face. "Has +the bottom dropped out?" + +Sally smiled, but her chin quivered. "It seems to me that it has. You +read it, Fox." + +So Fox read it. He was very sober when he looked up and it was a long +time before he spoke. + +"Well," he said at last, whimsically, "Martha's put her foot in it +this time, hasn't she? What do you think you're going to do?" + +"I don't see how I can refuse any longer," Sally answered, her voice +quivering as well as her chin. "Charlie was the only objection that I +could think of; the only real objection. I s'pose I'll have to go now, +and take Charlie." + +Fox did not reply immediately. + +Sally's chin quivered more and more, and her tears overflowed. "Oh, +Fox," she wailed, "I don't want to. I don't want to leave mother and +home and--and everybody." + +Fox drew her toward him and patted her shoulder. "There, there, +Sally," he said gently. "You shan't go if you don't want to. We'll +manage somehow. Don't feel so badly, Sally. Don't." + +Sally's fit of crying was already over. Her tears ceased and she felt +for her handkerchief. + +"I won't," she said, with a pitiful little attempt at a smile. "I'm +not going to cry any more. Have--have you got a handkerchief, Fox?" + +Fox wiped her eyes. "We'll call a council of war," he said; "you and +Doctor Galen and I will talk it over and decide what shall be done. +Not about Martha," he added hastily. "That's settled, Sally, if you +don't want to go. I'll write to her and tell her that you can't come." + +"No," Sally protested earnestly, "it's not settled; at least, not that +way. I'll go if--if that's the best thing for us. I was only crying +because--because I hate to think of leaving. I can't help that, you +know, Fox." + +"I know, Sally. I've been through it all." + +"And so our council of war," Sally continued, "will decide about that, +too." + +The council of war held a long and earnest session and eventually +decided that it was best for Sally to accept Miss Hazen's offer and to +go to Whitby. Sally acquiesced in the decision, but it seemed to Fox +necessary to do a little explaining. + +"You know, Sally," he said, "your mother is likely to be a long time +in getting back her health. She won't be herself for a number of +years. It would only be painful to you--" + +"I know all that, Fox," Sally interrupted, a little impatiently. She +had had it pretty thoroughly drummed into her. "I know all that, and +it doesn't make any difference whether I think so or not. I see that +it's the best thing for us all that Charlie and I should go, and we +will go. That's settled. But you will write to me often, and let me +know how mother gets along--and tell me the news, won't you?" + +"Why, of course I am going to," Fox cried with emphasis. "What did you +think--that we were going to let you slip away from us suddenly, +altogether? Not much. I'm going to write you every blessed week. And +see that you answer my letters every week, too." + +Sally felt comparatively cheerful once more. "I will," she answered, +smiling. + +"Bless your heart!" said Fox. + +Doctor Galen looked aggrieved. + +"And where do I come in?" he asked. "Aren't you going to promise to +write me, too? Your mother will be at my sanitarium and I have a good +mind to give orders that Fox Sanderson is to be told nothing about +her. Then you would have to get your information from me." + +"I didn't s'pose you'd care to have me, you're so busy." Sally was +pleased. "But I'd love to, Doctor, I'd love to. Do you really want me +to?" + +"If you don't, I'll never forgive you. I'm a very cruel man, and that +is the only way to insure good treatment for your mother. You'd +better, Sally." And the doctor wagged his head in a threatening +manner. + +Sally laughed. "It'll be your own fault if you get too many letters. +But you needn't answer them, if you don't have time." + +"We'll see. We'll see. I guess I shall manage to find a few minutes, +now and then, to write to Miss Sally Ladue." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +It was September before Sally was ready to go to Whitby. Indeed, it +cannot be said that she was ready then, or that she ever would have +been ready, if her wishes only had been involved. But by the middle of +September she had done all the things that she had to do, her +belongings and Charlie's were packed in two small trunks, and there +did not seem to be any excuse for delaying her departure longer. + +She had gone, with Doctor Galen, one memorable day, to see the +sanitarium. He, I suppose, had thought that perhaps Sally would feel +better about going if she saw for herself just the way in which her +mother would be taken care of. So he took her all over the building, +himself acting as her guide, and she saw it all. She did feel better. +When she had seen the whole thing and had absorbed as much as the +doctor thought was good for her, they went into town again and had +lunch with Mrs. Galen. There weren't any children and there never had +been. So much the worse for the doctor and for Mrs. Galen. They had +missed the best thing in life, and they knew that they had and +regretted it. After lunch, the doctor went home with Sally. She +thought, with some wonder at it, that the doctor could not have had +much to do that day, for he had given the whole of it to her. There +were many of his patients who thought otherwise--a whole office full +of them; and they waited in vain for the doctor. + +A few days later Sally had bidden a last mournful farewell to all her +favorite haunts. She had been devoting her spare time for a week to +that melancholy but pleasant duty. The little lizard would never more +sit high in the branches of the coal trees and look out over the +prospect of treetops and swamp. Never again would the gynesaurus feed +on stove coal plucked, ripe, from the branches whereon it grew. Sally +laughed, in spite of her melancholy, as this thought passed through +her mind; and the gynesaurus stopped eating coal and incontinently +slid and scrambled down the tree, landing on the ground with a thump +which was more like that made by a little girl than that a lizard +would make. And she ran into the house in rather a cheerful frame of +mind. It was almost time for the man to come for their trunks. + +Fox met her as she came in. "It's a good chance to say good-bye to +your mother, Sally. She's wandering about in her room." + +All of Sally's cheerfulness vanished at that. She knew just how she +should find her mother: aimlessly wandering from one part of the room +to another, intending, always, to do something, and always forgetting +what it was she intended to do. But Sally found Charlie and, together, +they went to their mother. + +It was the same sweet, gentle voice that called to them to come in. It +was the same sweet, gentle woman who greeted them. But in her dull +eyes there was scarcely recognition. To Sally it was as though a thick +veil hung always before her mother, through which she could neither +see clearly nor be seen. Her processes of mind were as vague and as +crude as those of a baby. If she was better than she had been, how +very ill she must have been! + +Mrs. Ladue did not realize what Sally's good-bye meant. She was +utterly incapable of taking in the changes which were before Sally or +before herself. She returned Sally's good-bye impassively, as though +Sally were going no farther than downstairs; and when Charlie, +impatient and a little frightened, fretted and pulled at Sally's hand, +Mrs. Ladue did not seem to mind. It was as if Charlie were some +strange child, in whom she had no interest. Poor lady! + +"Why don't you take him away?" she asked. "He wants to go." + +So Sally, choking with tenderness, took him away. She cried a little +on Fox's shoulder. + +"It seems to me that I can't bear it, Fox," she sobbed. "To see mother +so--is she really better?" + +"You know she is, Sally." + +"Yes, I s'pose I do." Sally's sobs gradually ceased. "But it's +terribly slow. She'll have forgotten us by the time she gets well." + +"No fear, Sally," Fox replied, with a gentle smile. "No fear of that. +Come, here's the man for our things." + +Fox was going with them. Sally dried her eyes while he went to see +about the trunks. + +As they walked out at the gate, Fox glanced at Sally. Her lips were +tightly shut and she did not look back once, but she kept her gaze +firmly fixed ahead, as if she were afraid of being turned into a +pillar of salt. Nobody knew how much determination it took for her to +do so. She would have liked to cry again and kiss every tree in the +place. But she wouldn't cry again. She just would not. + +Henrietta met them before they had gone far, and rattled on as though +she had been talking on a wager. Sally couldn't talk. And Henrietta +went to the station with them, still talking fast, and stayed with +Sally and Charlie while Fox checked the trunks. Then the train came +and Sally lingered at the door of the car. + +"Good-bye, Sally," Henrietta called. "Perhaps I could come to visit +you if you asked me." + +"I will if I can," said Sally. "You know it won't be my house and I'm +afraid that Cousin Martha may not find it convenient. If it was my +house I'd ask you now." + +The train started. "Good-bye, Sally," Henrietta called again as she +ran along the platform; "I wish I were going with you." + +"I wish you were," Sally answered. "Oh, I do wish you were, Henrietta. +Good-bye." + +For Henrietta had come to the end of the platform and had stopped. +The train was going almost too fast for her anyway. + +"You'd better come inside, Sally." And Fox drew her inside and shut +the door. + +Doctor Galen met the little party upon its arrival in the city. There +was nearly an hour before their train left for New York, and the +doctor suggested that they all have lunch together in the station. +Sally started to protest, for did they not have a package containing +cold chicken, hard-boiled eggs, and bread-and-butter? But the doctor +observed that he had never yet seen the time when a cold lunch did not +come in handy, and they might find use for it later; and, besides, he +had the lunch ordered and a table reserved. A feeling almost of +cheerfulness stole over Sally's spirits; and when, lunch over, they +were parting from the doctor at the steps of the car, Sally looked up +at him somewhat wistfully. He interpreted her look rightly, and bent +down. + +"Would you, Sally?" he asked. "And one for Mrs. Galen, too. Remember, +we haven't any children of our own." + +At that, Sally threw her arms around his neck and gave him two for +himself and two for Mrs. Galen. The doctor straightened again. + +"Bless you, Sally!" he said softly. "I wish you belonged to us. Don't +forget your promise." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +It was very early, as the habits of the Ladue family went, when the +train pulled into the station at Whitby. For Professor Ladue had not +been an early riser. College professors of certain types are not noted +for their earliness. One of these types had been well represented by +Professor Ladue. He had not, to be sure, ever met his classes clad in +his evening clothes; but, no doubt, he would have done so, in time, if +his career had not been cut short. + +The train did not go beyond Whitby. One reason why it did not was that +there was nothing beyond but water and no stations of permanence. +There was plenty of time to get out of the train without feeling +hurried. Fox got out and helped Charlie down the steps; and Sally got +out, feeling as if she had already been up half the night. Indeed, she +had, almost, for she had been so afraid of oversleeping that she had +been only dozing since midnight. + +"I wonder, Fox," she said as she came down the steps, "whether there +will be any one here to meet us." + +"Cast your eye over the crowd," Fox whispered, "and if you see a thin, +haughty lady standing somewhat aloof from the common herd, I'll bet my +hat that's Martha." + +Sally chuckled involuntarily, and she cast her eye over the crowd as +Fox had told her to do. There _was_ a lady, who seemed to be somewhat +haughty, standing back by the wall of the station, aloof from the +common herd, but she was not as thin as Sally had expected Cousin +Martha to be. This lady was evidently expecting somebody--or +somebodies--and was watching, with a shadow of anxiety on her face, as +the crowd poured out of the doors and flowed down the steps. Then her +gaze happened to alight upon Sally and her eyebrows lifted, quickly, +and she smiled. Sally smiled as quickly in return and made up her +mind, on the spot, that, if that was Cousin Martha, she should rather +like Cousin Martha. + +The lady had come forward at once, with a rapid, nervous walk, and met +them as soon as the crowd would let her. + +"Sarah Ladue?" she asked. + +"Sally, Cousin Martha," Sally replied. "Everybody calls me Sally." + +"Well, I am very glad to see you, Sally." Cousin Martha kissed her on +the cheek; a quick, nervous peck. Sally tried to kiss Cousin Martha +while she had the chance, but she succeeded in getting no more than a +corner of a veil. "How did you know me?" + +"I didn't. I only saw that you were looking for somebody, and I +thought it might be me you were looking for." + +"Oh, so that was it!" Miss Hazen smiled faintly and sighed. "I thought +that perhaps you might have recognized me from the photograph I once +gave your father. But I forgot that that was a great many years ago." +She sighed again. + +Sally tried in vain to remember any photograph of Miss Martha Hazen. +She did remember something else. + +"This is Fox Sanderson," she said, holding on to Fox's arm, "who has +just come on to bring us. Fox is _very_ kind. And here is Charlie." + +She dragged Charlie forward by the collar. He had been behind her, +absorbed in the movements of the engine. + +"Oh, what a pretty boy!" exclaimed Cousin Martha. "How do you do, +Charlie?" + +"Not a pretty boy!" cried Charlie. + +Sally shook him. "Say very well, I thank you," she whispered. + +"Very-well-I-thank-you," Charlie repeated sulkily. "I'm hungry." + +Miss Hazen laughed. "Mercy on us!" she said. "We must be getting home +to give you something to eat." She extended the tips of her fingers to +Fox. "I'm very glad to see you, too, Mr. Sanderson. You will come +home with us, too? The carriage is waiting." + +"Thank you, Miss Hazen. I must see about the trunks, I suppose; +Sally's and Charlie's. I didn't bring any, for I must go back +to-night." + +"Then, perhaps, you will spend the day with us?" + +Fox thanked her again and Cousin Martha told him what to do about the +trunks. There was one baggageman, in particular, whom the Hazens had +employed for years when there had been trunks to go or to come. That +that baggageman was now old and nearly as decrepit as his horse and +wagon made no difference. + +They were soon in Miss Hazen's stout carriage, behind a single stout +horse. Sally had not noticed, before, that the water was so near. They +went through some very dirty streets, past saloons and tenement-houses. +Miss Hazen regarded them sadly. + +"One gets a poor impression of Whitby from the entrance into it," she +observed. "This part of the city has changed very much since my young +days; changed much for the worse. It is a great pity that the railroad +does not come in at some different place. On the hill, now, one would +get a very different impression. But there are parts of the city which +have not changed so very much. Although," she added thoughtfully, "all +the change is for the worse, it seems to me." + +There did not seem to be anything to be said that would be of any +comfort. Fox murmured something, and then they drove up an +extraordinarily steep hill. The horse had all he could do to drag them +at a walk. But, looking up the hill, Sally saw a pleasant street with +elms arching over it. + +"Oh, how lovely!" she cried. "Do you live in this part of the city, +Cousin Martha?" + +"No," Cousin Martha replied, with rather more than a suspicion of +pride in her voice. "Where we live, it is prettier than this." + +"Oh," said Sally. Then she recollected. + +"There was a very nice man on the boat," she remarked. "He was some +sort of an officer, but I don't know exactly what. He said he lived in +Whitby, and he had several children. The youngest girl is about my +age. Do you know them, Cousin Martha? Their name is Wills." + +"Wills? Wills? I don't think I know any Willses." + +"He seemed to know who you were," Sally prompted. "He knew right away, +as soon as ever I told him where I was going." + +"It is likely enough," said Miss Hazen, trying to speak simply. The +attempt was not a conspicuous success. "Many people, whom we don't +know, know who we are. The Willses are very worthy people, I have no +doubt, but you are not likely to know them." + +"He said that, too," Sally observed. + +Miss Hazen looked as if she would have liked to commend Mr. Wills's +discrimination; but she did not and they continued their drive in +silence. The streets seemed all to be arched over with elms; all that +they drove through, at all events. Presently they reached the top of +the hill and turned into a street that was as crooked as it could be. +It turned this way and that and went, gently, uphill and down; but, +always, it seemed to be trying to keep on the top of the ridge. Sally +remarked upon it. + +"You might call this the Ridge Road," she said; "like Ridge Road in +Philadelphia. I have never been on the Ridge Road in Philadelphia," +she added hastily, fearing that Cousin Martha might think she was +pretending to be what she was not, "but I have always imagined that it +was something like this." + +Fox and Miss Hazen laughed. "Not much like it, Sally," said Fox. + +"Or," Sally resumed, "you might call it the Cow Path. It is crooked +enough to be one." + +"That is just what it used to be called," said Miss Hazen. "It was not +a very poetical name, but we liked it. They changed the name, some +years ago." + +"What?" Sally asked. "What did they change it to?" + +"Washington Street," answered Cousin Martha plaintively. "It seemed to +us that it was not necessary to call it Washington Street. There is no +individuality in the name." + +Fox laughed again. "Not a great deal," he agreed. + +Miss Hazen smiled and sighed. + +"We cling to the old names," she continued. "We still call this +street, among ourselves, the Cow Path, and Parker Street is still West +India Lane, and Smith Street is Witch Lane. The old names are more +picturesque and romantic. There seemed to be no sufficient reason for +changing them. For us, they are not changed." + +Washington Street--the Cow Path, as Miss Hazen preferred to call +it--had upon it a great many handsome places. They were big houses, of +stone, for the most part, or covered with stucco, although a few of +them were of wood; and they were set well back from the street, behind +well-kept lawns with clumps of shrubbery or of trees scattered at +careful random. Sally did not see one of these old places with the +rather formal garden, with its box hedges, in front of the house, but +she saw a good many with gorgeous gardens at the side, and many with +the gardens, apparently, at the back. + +They were very different, these great places, from her own home. Her +own home might have occupied a whole square, as many of these did, if +it had been in a city. It was not in a city, but in what was scarcely +more than a village and the trees were where nature had set them. The +whole place--Sally's own place--had an atmosphere of wildness quite in +keeping with coal trees and sauri. These places, if they had had no +more care than the professor had been accustomed to give to his, would +have a pathetic air of abandon and desolation. What would a poor +little gynesaurus do here? + +They turned off of the Cow Path and Miss Hazen brightened perceptibly. + +"We are getting near home," she remarked. "Our house is on the next +corner." + +"Oh, is it?" Sally asked. "What street is this?" + +"This is Box Elder and our house is on the corner of Apple Tree." + +Sally laughed. "How funny!" she said. "And what pretty names!" + +"We think they are pretty names. Now, here we are." + +They were just turning in between granite gateposts that were green +with dampness, and Sally looked up with a lively interest. She caught +a glimpse of a wooden front fence of three octagonal rails; but it was +only a glimpse, for the view was cut off, almost immediately, by the +row of great evergreens which stood just back of the fence. There were +two other evergreens in the middle of the plot of lawn, and the elms +on the streets stretched their branches far over, nearly to the house. +Altogether, it gave a depressing effect of gloom and decay, which the +aspect of the house itself did not tend to relieve. + +It was a wooden house, large and square, although not so large as +those on the Cow Path. It had a deeply recessed doorway with four +wooden columns extending up two stories to support the gable. The +house was not clap-boarded, but was smooth and sanded and its surface +was grooved to look like stone. It might once have been a fair +imitation of granite, but the time was in the distant past when the +old house would have fooled even the most casual observer. And it gave +them no welcome; nobody opened the door at their approach, or, at +least, nobody on the inside. The door did not open until Cousin Martha +opened it herself, disclosing a dark and gloomy interior. + +"Come in, Sally," she said; "and you, too, Mr. Sanderson, if you +please. If you will wait in the parlor for a moment, I will see about +some breakfast for you. I have no doubt you are both hungry as well as +Charlie. We have had our breakfast." + +Sally wondered who the "we" might be. It had not occurred to her until +that moment that there might be somebody else in that great gloomy +house besides Cousin Martha. + +"Sally," cried Charlie fretfully as they entered the dark parlor. "I +want to go home. I want to go to my own home, Sally." + +"Hush, Charlie," said Sally. "This is our home now. Hush. Cousin +Martha may hear you." + +Charlie would not hush. He was tired and hungry, although they had had +an apology for a breakfast, the remains of their cold lunch, before +six o'clock. + +"Isn't my home. This old house isn't--" + +The words died on his lips; for there was a sound behind the +half-opened folding-doors at the end of the long room, and an old man +appeared there. He seemed to Sally to be a very old man. He had a long +white beard and stooped slightly as he made his way slowly toward +them. + +"Is this Sarah Ladue?" he asked as he came forward. He came near Sally +and held out his hand. + +"Yes, sir," answered Sally doubtfully, laying her hand in his. "It's +Sally." + +The old man must have detected the doubt. "Well, Sally," he said +kindly, "I am your father's uncle, your Cousin Patty's father." So +Cousin Martha and Cousin Patty were one. + +"Oh!" returned Sally quickly. "I thought--that is, I'm very glad to +see you." + +The old gentleman smiled quietly. "And I'm very glad to see you. Don't +you want to come into the back parlor? There's a fire in there. You, +too, sir," turning to Fox. + +"I forgot," interrupted Sally. "I am always forgetting to do it. This +is Mr. Sanderson. He is a _very_ kind friend of ours. He came all the +way with us just to see that we got here safely. And this is Charlie, +sir." + +"I am happy to meet a very kind friend of Sally's," the old gentleman +said, shaking hands with Fox. "From what I hear, she is in need of +kind friends." He held his hand out to Charlie. "Will this little boy +shake hands with his Uncle John?" + +That appeared to be the last thing that Charlie wished to do, but he +did it, sulkily, without a word. Then the old gentleman led the way +slowly into the back parlor. + +Sally remembered, now, that she had heard her father speak of John +Hazen--John Hazen, Junior--with that sneering laugh of his; that cold, +mirthless laugh with which he managed to cast ridicule upon anything +or anybody. This nice old gentleman must be John Hazen, Junior. But +why should a stooping old man with a long white beard be called +Junior? Why, on earth, Sally wondered. Surely, such an old man--she +would speak to Cousin Martha about it. Perhaps Cousin Martha had a +brother who was John, Junior. As for Cousin Martha's father, she had +always taken it for granted that he was a disembodied spirit. + +There was a coal fire bubbling in the grate in the back parlor. A +great easy-chair was drawn up to the fire, and beside it, on the +floor, lay the morning paper, where Uncle John had dropped it. There +were other easy-chairs in the room, and books and magazines were +scattered over the centre table. The centre table had a much-stained +green cloth top, Sally noticed. Altogether, this room was cheerful, in +its own way, as any room which is lived in must be; as the great front +parlor was not. Its way was not the way Sally had been used to. It was +too dark, to begin with, and the heavy curtains only half drawn back +from the windows kept out most of the light which managed to straggle +past the trees. + +The old gentleman began to place other chairs, but Fox did it for him. + +"Thank you," he said. "And now, as soon as Patty comes back, I shall +have to leave you, if you will excuse me. I usually go downtown +earlier than this, but I wished to see Sally before I went. I hope you +will make yourselves quite at home." + +Consideration of just this kind was a new thing for Sally. + +"Oh, thank you," she cried, flushing with pleasure. "It was very nice +of you to want to wait for me." + +The old gentleman again smiled his quiet smile; but before he could +say anything, Cousin Martha came in. + +"I have some breakfast for you," she announced. "Will you go to your +rooms first, or have something to eat first?" + +There was no room for doubt as to Charlie's preference in the matter. +Miss Hazen smiled. + +"Very well, then," she said. "I think that will be better. Have your +breakfast while it is hot. Then I can take you up and get you settled. +The trunks will have got here by that time." + +"I will go now, Patty," said her father, "if you will be good enough +to help me with my overcoat." + +So she stopped in the hall and held his coat and he bade good-bye to +every one by name, and went out slowly. + +"Does Uncle John go downtown every day?" Sally asked, soon after. She +was busy with her breakfast. + +"Oh, mercy, yes," Miss Hazen replied. "He is as well able to attend to +his business as ever. And he always walks, unless it is very bad +walking: icy or very muddy. I am afraid that he might slip and fall, +and old bones, you know, do not mend easily." + +"Is he--is he," Sally went on, hesitating, "John Hazen, Junior?" + +"Yes," answered Cousin Martha. "He has kept the Junior." + +Sally did not know just what she meant by that. "I've heard my father +speak of John Hazen, Junior," she remarked, "and I didn't know but, +perhaps, I might have a Cousin John." + + + + +BOOK II + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Sally was tolerably happy after she got settled. She had cried a few +tears into Fox's coat when he was going away and she had sent many +messages to Henrietta and to Doctor Galen and to her mother, although +she knew that her mother would receive them with her pitiful, vacant +smile and would go on wondering where Sally was. She had been told, of +course, over and over, but could not seem to grasp the reason or, +indeed, the fact. + +Sally had wiped her eyes and sighed. "I'm not going to cry any more," +she had said; "and I shan't be unhappy, Fox. I just won't be." + +"You've had a good deal to make you unhappy, Sally," Fox had replied +gently, "but I do hope that you won't be. You can trust Doctor Galen +to do the very best for your mother." + +"Yes," Sally had returned, smiling; "you and Doctor Galen. You forgot, +Fox. And I'm glad that father has gone away. I'm glad--glad," Sally +cried passionately. "He didn't do a thing for mother. He only liked to +make her feel bad. She'd have died if he'd stayed. And I hope you'll +never find him. I hope you never will." + +"We're not breaking our necks, trying." + +"I'm glad of it. Oh, Fox, I've never said such a thing before, and I +never will again. But I just had to or I should have burst. Don't you +tell, will you? Don't ever tell _anybody_." + +Fox had promised and had kissed her and had started back, feeling +comforted. It was very much better than he had expected, and Sally had +made up her mind. There was everything in that. + +Sally woke early the next morning. It was not quite light, if it ever +could be said to be quite light in that house. But a little light had +begun to filter in around the curtains, and Sally looked about the +great, dim room, wondering for a moment where she was. Then she +remembered; she remembered, too, that Uncle John had breakfast early. +Cousin Martha had forgotten to tell her at what time to get up, but +there could be no harm in getting up now. Charlie had a little room +off her own big one, probably the dressing-room. At that instant +Charlie appeared, wandering hesitatingly, clad only in his little +pajamas, which had caused some surprise on Cousin Martha's part. + +"Oh, how very cunning!" she had exclaimed, as Sally unpacked them. + +Now Charlie made a dive for Sally's bed. "I want to get in with you, +Sally." + +But Sally thought that they had better get dressed, and said so. When +Sally said things in that way, there was no appeal, and Charlie +submitted, with not more objection than would have been expected, to a +rapid sponge; for it had not occurred to Sally, the night before, to +find out about a bathtub. It might very well be that the house had +been built before the era of bathtubs and that no such useless +encumbrance had been added. Cousin Martha herself solved that +difficulty for her. There was a gentle tap at her door. + +"Sally," called Cousin Martha's voice, "here is your hot water. Do you +know about the tub?" + +"No," answered Sally, opening the door; "Charlie's had his bath, +Cousin Martha, as good a one as I could give him, but I haven't." + +"You didn't splash water over the floor, did you?" Cousin Martha asked +anxiously, scrutinizing the floor for any signs of wetting. + +"I tried not to," Sally replied. "It's hardly light enough to make +sure." + +Miss Hazen had disappeared into Charlie's room and now reappeared +bringing a tub. It was a large shallow pan, a sort of glorified milk +pan, and might have been made of cast iron, judging from the way Miss +Hazen carried it. It was not of cast iron, but of tin; the kind of tin +that cannot be got in these days, even for love. + +"There!" said she, setting it down. + +"Thank you, Cousin Martha. It will be nice to have that. But you don't +need to bring us hot water. We don't use it." + +"Why, Sally!" Cousin Martha cried in a horrified voice. "You don't +bathe in cold water!" Sally nodded. "Not tempered at all?" + +"Just cold water," Sally responded. + +"But it will be very cold, later on," remonstrated Cousin Martha. "The +water sometimes freezes in the pitcher." + +Sally chuckled. "Long as it doesn't freeze solid it's all right. I +like it very cold. It prickles and stings me all over. We like it +cold, don't we, Charlie?" + +Charlie grunted. He did not seem enthusiastic. Miss Hazen sighed as +she shut the door. + +Breakfast was over, Uncle John had gone, and things had pretty well +settled down for the day, and it still seemed very early to Sally. She +and Charlie wandered in the yard before eight o'clock. That yard +seemed very restricted. In the first place, it was bounded on every +side except the front by a high wooden fence. The top of the fence was +just about level with the top of Sally's head, so that she couldn't +see over it without jumping up or climbing on something. Sally had +thought of climbing, of course; but, first, she had to get Charlie +acquainted with the yard, so that he would stay down contentedly. +Charlie had not yet developed any particular aptitude for climbing +trees. + +They wandered to the stable, which was at the back of the house, a +little to one side, and opened directly upon Box Elder Street. Here +they found the man attending to his duties about the stout horse. That +man paid but little attention to the children, but continued his work +in a leisurely manner. No doubt this was praiseworthy on his part, but +it was not what the children had hoped for, and they soon wandered +out again and went towards the back of the yard. Here was a vegetable +garden on one side and a flower garden on the other, together +stretching across from Box Elder Street to a little street that was +scarcely more than a lane. Sally had been in Whitby a long time before +she found that this was Hazen's Lane. It was most natural to speak of +it as "The Lane," and "The Lane" it was. + +Back of the two gardens was another high wooden fence; and behind the +fence was a row of maples bordering a street. Sally knew it was a +street because she could see, over the top of the fence, the fronts of +two houses on the other side of it. + +"Oh, dear!" she sighed. "There doesn't seem to be anything very +interesting here, does there, Charlie? You can't even see farther than +across the street. I suppose Cousin Martha wouldn't like it if we +should dig, for there isn't any place to dig but the garden." + +Charlie began to whimper. + +At this moment there came a thump on the fence at the corner of the +Lane. The thumping continued, in a rhythmical manner, as if it were in +time with somebody's walking, and progressed slowly along the Lane. +Presently there was a double thump at each step, and Sally saw two +cloth caps, exactly alike, bobbing up and down, almost disappearing +behind the fence at each downward bob. + +"It looks like twins," she said. + +"Follow 'em along," said Charlie, in some excitement. "Come on, +Sally." + +So they followed 'em along until the twin caps had got almost opposite +the house. Then two shrill voices broke into sudden song. + + "Monkey married the baboon's sister, + Smacked his lips and then he kissed 'er; + Kissed so hard he--" + +Sally had jumped up on the stringer of the fence, just where the caps +would be at the next step. "It is, Charlie!" she cried. + +The owners of the two caps had jumped away with an alacrity born of +experience, and had started to run. They looked back and stopped. + +"Hello!" they cried, together, in surprise. "Is wh--wh--what, +Ch--Ch--Charlie?" + +"Twins," Sally answered in triumph; "aren't you?" + +The twins nodded. "C--c--course we are," said one. +"Any--any--any--b--ody know that." + +"Wh--wh--what's your n--n--name?" asked the other. + +"And wh--wh--who's Ch--Ch--Charlie?" + +"My name is Sally Ladue," replied Sally, "and Charlie's my brother." +Charlie popped his head above the fence. "We've come," she continued, +thinking that she might save the twins the painful process of speech, +"we've come to live here." + +"W--w--with P--P--Patty H.?" asked one of the twins, in a hoarse +whisper. + +It was impossible for any one who was not very familiar with them to +tell whether it was the same twin who had spoken last or the other +one; and Sally had taken her eyes off them when she spoke of Charlie. + +"With Uncle John and Cousin Martha," she answered. "I've never called +her Patty H. and I don't think it's very respectful." + +The twins grinned. "W--w--we c--c--call her P--P--Patty H. +be--be--bec--c--cause it's h--h--hard to s--s--say +Haa--Ha--Ha--Ha--_Hav_ering." + +Sally had hard work to suppress her chuckles. The other twin made no +effort to suppress his; he laughed heartlessly. + +His brother turned upon him. "Sh--sh--shut up, you b--b--bum, you! You +c--c--couldn't s--s--say it." + +Sally essayed to be peacemaker. "You know," she said hesitatingly, +"that you are so much alike that I can't tell you apart. You're just +like Tweedledum and Tweedledee, and you seem to quarrel just the same +as they did. Now, you're Tweedledum," she went on, pointing at one, +and then at the other, "and you're Tweedledee. If Dum would wear a +red ribbon in his buttonhole and Dee would wear a blue one, I should +know. It's very convenient to know." + +The idea of wearing ribbons in their buttonholes did not seem to +strike the twins favorably. They shook their heads. + +"Well," said Sally hastily, "there's another thing: you were thumping +on the fence and singing--" + +"We c--c--can s--s--sing all right when we c--c--can't t--t--talk. +S--some d--days are go--g--good for t--talking and s--some are +b--b--bad. Th--this is a b--bad d--day." + +"Yes, I suppose so. But what I was going to say was this: you were +singing something that may have been meant to plague Cousin Martha. I +want you to promise not to try to plague her. You will promise, won't +you?" + +The twins grinned again and promised with evident reluctance. + +"You g--going to our s--s--school?" inquired Dum suddenly. + +"I don't know about schools," Sally replied. "I suppose I'm going to +some school, and Charlie, too." + +"Ours," Dum began; but at the mention of school Dee started. + +"G--g--gee!" he exclaimed. "We g--g--got to h--h--hurry or we'll be +l--late. C--c--come on." + +The twins were gone. Sally and Charlie got down from the fence. + +"They were a funny pair, weren't they, Charlie?" + +"Yes, they were. Now, Sally," Charlie went on dismally, "what you +goin' to do?" + +Sally sighed. It was not nine o'clock and Charlie was in the dumps +already. She looked around and there was Miss Hazen just coming out of +the front door. + +"There's Cousin Martha, Charlie. Let's go and meet her." + +Charlie was not in a state to be enthusiastic about anything, +certainly not about Cousin Martha. He didn't care; but he went, in a +condition of dismal melancholy that touched her. + +"Homesick, poor child!" she murmured. "Charlie," she said aloud, "I am +going downtown in the carriage, to do some errands. Don't you want to +go? You and Sally?" + +Charlie thereupon brightened perceptibly. "I'll go if you want me to." + +Cousin Martha smiled and turned to Sally, who accepted. "Although," +she said, "I want to write a letter. But I suppose there'll be plenty +of time after we get back. We've just been talking with the funniest +pair of twins. They stutter." + +Miss Hazen sighed. "I know. I heard them banging on the fence. They +are the Carling twins. Their names are Henry and Horace." + +"Harry and Horry," cried Sally. "But which is older?" + +"Mercy! I don't know," Cousin Martha answered. "I can't tell them +apart. One is just as bad as the other." + +"I've an idea," Sally remarked, "that they aren't going to be so bad." + +Cousin Martha looked curiously at Sally, but she said nothing and just +then the carriage came. + +Miss Hazen seemed to find especial delight in Charlie's society on +that drive. She talked to him more and more while she went to do her +errands. Charlie, on the whole, was not an especially attractive +child. He was a handsome boy, but he was apt to be dissatisfied and +discontented, which gave his face the kind of expression which such a +disposition always gives. He seemed to be developing some of the +characteristics of his father. Not that Sally was aware of the +characteristics Charlie was developing. Charlie was Charlie, that was +all. She saw too much of him--had had the care of him too +continuously--to realize the little resemblances which might be +evident to one who had less to do with him. It is not unlikely that +Miss Hazen realized those resemblances, although she may not have been +conscious of it, and that it was just that which was endearing him to +her. + +Whatever the reason, Cousin Martha got to taking him with her at every +opportunity. Charlie was in school every morning, for one of Miss +Hazen's errands, on that first day, had been to arrange for school for +both Sally and Charlie. Charlie, being at school every morning except +Saturday, could not accompany Cousin Martha on her drives in the +mornings. Consequently, Cousin Martha changed her habit of more than +twenty years' standing and drove in the afternoon. Her father smiled +when he heard of it and looked from Charlie to Sally. + +"I know of no reason, Patty," he observed quietly, "why the afternoon +is not as good a time for driving as the morning. Doesn't this little +girl go?" + +"Not very often, Uncle John," Sally replied, smiling up at him. +"I'm--I'm very busy, and--and I'd rather go anywhere on my own feet." + +He patted her head and smiled. He liked to go anywhere on his own +feet, too. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +It was a blustery Saturday toward the last of March. Sally had written +her letter to Fox and one to Doctor Galen, more to take up time than +because she had anything to say that she thought was worth saying; but +the kind doctor seemed to like to get her rather infrequent letters, +and he always answered them, although his answers were rather short. +But what could she expect of a doctor who was as busy as Doctor Galen? +Not much, truly. Cousin Martha had told her so. Perhaps I had better +call her Patty. Everybody called her Patty or Miss Patty. Even Sally +had fallen into that habit. Miss Patty may have preferred it or she +may not have; her preference did not seem to matter. As I was saying, +Cousin Patty had told her so, and had intended the telling, it seemed +to Sally, rather as a rebuke. Now, Sally did not know why she should +be rebuked,--for her conscience was clear. But the fame of Doctor +Galen had gone forth in the land and Cousin Patty considered it a +great honor that any one of her family connections was under his care. +Hence her seeming rebuke. + +Sally had finished her letter to the doctor and it was only half-past +eight. She sighed as the hall clock--which, by the way, was in the +back parlor--struck the half-hour, solemnly, as if it were aware of +the importance of its office. That tall clock did its whole duty +conscientiously--with Uncle John's help. Sally sat gazing at the clock +and meditating. It was no less than astonishing, when you came to +think of it, what a lot of things in that house depended upon Uncle +John's help. He never made a show of giving it, but a quiet word here +and a calm smile there did wonders. He was a regulator, that was what +he was; a sort of a pendulum, to make things go right. Sally had +become very fond of Uncle John. Cousin Patty--well--she seemed to +need a regulator, not to put it any more strongly. Sally smiled as the +idea crossed her mind, and she took the end of the pen-holder from its +place between her teeth and returned to the perusal of her letter. + +Sally always read over her letters, and, having read this one over, +she added a postscript telling the doctor--a very private joke between +him and her--of Cousin Patty's rebuke. She knew that he would be +amused. When she had the doctor's letter sealed, she looked up again +at the clock. + +"Oh, dear!" she murmured; "it must have stopped." She knew very well +that the clock would not be guilty of such misbehavior as long as it +had Uncle John's help. "I'll write to Henrietta." + +To tell the truth, Sally had not missed Henrietta one half as much as +she had missed Fox, but if she did not write her very often it was +simply because she forgot it. When she remembered, she was always very +sorry and wrote frequently, until she forgot again. Sally's letters to +Henrietta came in bunches, with intervals of a month or more between +the bunches. + +She had not got very far on this one when Uncle John came in. He was +very late that morning. + +"Sally," he said, "they are flying kites in the Lot. You may like to +see them." + +For, as I said at the beginning, before I was led off into this +digression, it was a blustery Saturday in March. + +"Oh!" Sally cried, pushing back her chair. "Are they? Do you mind, +Uncle John, if I climb a tree on that side? You can't see over the +wall, you know." + +Mr. Hazen smiled quietly. "Climb any tree you like," he replied. "You +will be careful, Sally, I know; careful of yourself and of the trees. +But where is Charlie?" + +"Cousin Patty is getting him ready to go out with her." Sally was +pretty well relieved of the care of Charlie by this time. "I'll finish +this letter when I come in." + +She jumped up, snatched up her hood and her coat and slipped her hand +into Uncle John's and they went out together. They parted at the foot +of the steps and Mr. Hazen walked slowly downtown, smiling to himself +in a satisfied way. + +Just across Box Elder Street was a high wall. It seemed to Sally to be +at least twenty feet high; and the builder of that wall had added +insult to injury by cementing it smoothly on the outside--Sally had +never seen the inside of it--and by capping it with a smooth and +projecting wooden roof. The wooden roof was no longer smooth, but +warped with the sun and the rains of many years, and the mouldings on +the under edges were coming away in places. But the wall was still +absolutely unclimbable, although it was possible to see over it from +the upper windows of the house or from the evergreens which surrounded +it. Sally preferred the evergreens. To be sure, their heavy branches +somewhat interfered with the view, but, at least, they were trees and +they were out of doors. + +When Sally had found a comfortable perch in a spruce, she looked over +into the Lot. The Lot was a relic of the past; of twenty-five or +thirty years past. Its latest useful service had been, according to +internal evidence, as a cornfield. The boys, running across it with +their kites, were sure of this, for the hills were still there and +made running on it a work of art, especially if there was a kite at +the end of a string to need their attention. Indeed, perhaps I was +wrong in putting the flying of kites in the class of useless service. +At any rate, that was the only use to which Morton's lot had been put +for many years. It was called "The Lot." There was no danger of +ambiguity in so speaking of it, any more than there was in speaking of +Hazen's Lane as "The Lane." No one would have any doubt at all--no one +in Sally's set, at least--as to what was referred to, in either case. + +Sally looked out as she best could between the branches of her spruce. +She couldn't see much, only a little piece of the field at each +opening. It was very unsatisfactory. She saw five or six boys, two of +them large boys, bending over something which lay upon the ground. +Presently the group divided and the boys stood up; and she saw that +what they had been working on was a huge kite of the old-fashioned +six-sided kind. She saw, too, that the big boys were Everett Morton +and Dick Torrington. At that moment the familiar figures of the +Carling twins slipped through a break in the high picket fence from +the other street. Immediately, Sally scrambled out of the spruce and +ran up Box Elder Street. She had a heightened color, but that might +have been due to the exertion of scrambling. It might not have been +due to the exertion of scrambling. Scrambling was no unusual exertion +for Sally. + +Sally's rapid change of base was not because of the restricted view +from the tree, although her view was restricted. And it was not +because of the Carlings. The Carlings were her devoted slaves; but +that fact was an annoyance to her rather than a gratification, and it +is conceivable that the presence of the Carlings might have had weight +in inducing her to put up with the inconveniences of a restricted +view. The object of interest must therefore have been either Everett +or Dick or the kite. + +At her school Sally was in the fifth class. They did not have forms or +grades at that school. Grades are mysterious things which seem to run +the wrong way, with no particular point of beginning and no particular +ending. A man might be in the fiftieth grade if there were any +teachers for it. There seems to be nothing to prevent. But when a boy +graduates from the first class, there is a point that brings you up +short. Something vital must happen then; and the thing that happens is +that the boy either goes to college or goes to work, for it is out of +the question to go any farther in that school. You know it without +being told. + +The boys in Sally's school usually went to college when they graduated +from the first class. They were well prepared for it. Everett and Dick +were in the first class and they would go away to college in the fall, +or, at least, they hoped that they would. There was some doubt about +it, for Dick was rather dull and plodding and Everett was neither dull +nor plodding. They were four years ahead of Sally. I cannot tell why +she had chosen those two to look up to. It is doubtful whether she +could have shown adequate cause either, always supposing that she +would have been willing to acknowledge the fact. + +Dick was the type of the nice English boy. Sally had never seen an +English boy or an English man in her whole life; but that did not +prevent her from forming an ideal of the type, to which Dick measured +up in every particular. He had light hair and that curious brunette +coloring that sometimes goes with it; he was invariably pleasant and +polite and deliberate in his speech; and he was generally well +dressed. Sally was particular about that, almost finicky. If Dick had +shown a tendency to overdressing--but he didn't. He had an air of +distinction. He also had a sister, Emily, who was in the second class +at school. Sally thought that Emily Torrington was the most beautiful +girl she had ever seen. She could not imagine any girl more beautiful. + +Everett was a great contrast to Dick in every respect. He had no +sister. Everett was an only child and his family was very rich, so +that he was in great danger of being spoiled. Not that it made any +difference to Sally whether he was rich or not. And Everett was +handsome, in quite a different way from Dick, and brilliant and +dashing. In short, he was fascinating. Many others than Sally had +found him so. It was quite likely that a woman would be more +permanently happy and contented with Dick than with Everett. I do not +mean to imply that Sally had ever indulged in any such reflection. She +may have and she may not have; but he fascinated her, as he had +fascinated those others of whom I spoke. He didn't know it. Everett +Morton had never spoken to Sally. He had never even noticed her. Dick +had in his good-natured, pleasant way, but Dick was always polite. +Everett was not--always. + +So Sally's heart was beating a little rapidly when she pushed through +the break in the fence. But she had been running, you remember, for a +square and a half. + +The big kite was up on end, with one of the smaller boys holding it. +It was a huge kite, nearly twice the height of the boy that held it +and the top of it was a good foot above Everett's head as he stood in +front of it; so big that they had a rope to fly it with, and the end +of the rope was tied around Everett's waist. The smaller boys, of +course, were clustered about the kite, the Carlings among them. Then +Dick and Everett took the rope in their hands, called to the boy to +let go, and began to run; and the kite rose, evenly at first, then +twitching viciously from side to side. Then it hesitated for an +instant, as the tail, dragging on the ground, caught around the legs +of one of the Carlings. Sally had not yet become able to tell them +apart, at any distance. She saw him struggle, go down with his feet in +the air and with the tail of the kite still wrapped around them. She +saw the other twin precipitate himself upon the fallen one, try vainly +to undo the tail, then busy himself with one of his brother's shoes. +The kite suddenly soared, bearing aloft, tied firmly into its tail, a +shoe. + +The twins remained upon the ground, one pounding the other. Sally +thought that the pounded one had already had punishment enough and she +ran toward them. + +"You j--jay!" cried the upper twin to the under twin, as she came +near. "You b--b--bum, you! D--don't you kn--know any b--b--better 'n +t--to g--get c--c--caught th--that way? You--" + +"Sh--sh--shut up," yelled the under twin, struggling wildly, +"y--y--you r--r--rotten old b--beat! L--l--lemmeup!" + +"Here," said Sally, imperatively, "let him up. Stop pounding him." + +Harry stopped his pounding of Horry and both of the twins looked up, +Harry with a sheepish grin and Horry with an expression of the most +profound relief. + +"S--S--Sally!" they began, in unison. "Oh, I ain't h--h--hurtin' 'im," +continued Harry. "Oh, h--h--he ain't h--h--hurtin' m--me," said Horry. + +Sally laughed. "Well," she said, "you'll get up." She took Harry by +the shoulder. "It's positively disgraceful the way you brothers +fight." + +Harry got up slowly. "B--b--brothers always f--f--fight," he said +apologetically, "if th--th--they're an--an--any--wh--where ne--n--near +th--the s--s--same s--size. H--H--Horry 'n-n' I are j--just th--the +s--s--same s--s--size. B--b--but I n--n--never h--hurt 'im," he added +magnanimously. + +Horry had got up, and was standing on one leg, with his stockinged +foot against his other knee. He made Sally think of a belligerent +stork. + +"Y--yer c--c--couldn't, th--that's wh--why," he yelled. Then, sticking +his head forward until his face was almost touching his brother's, he +vented his scorn in a single yell. "Y--a--ah!" + +This was too much for Harry's imitation of goodness, and he gave chase +at once. Horry, handicapped by the loss of one shoe, which was now +almost out of sight, had made but two jumps when Harry caught him. +They clinched and went down in a heap. Sally couldn't tell whether the +stockinged foot belonged to the under or the upper twin. She laughed +again. They seemed to prefer to fight anyway, so why not let them? + +The kite was now up as far as it could go. The rope was all out, and +Everett was holding to a post of the fence. Dick came running over the +field toward the prostrate twins. + +"Here, you twins!" he called. "Stop your fighting. Get up!" + +He seized the upper twin, jerked him to his feet and gave him a shake. +It proved to be Horry. + +"L--l--lemme 'l--l--lone!" cried Horry. "I ain't d--doin' +an--an--yth--thing to y--you. Wh--wh--where's m--m--my sh--shoe? +G--g--gimme m--my sh--shoe." + +Harry scrambled to his feet. "Y--you l--l--let m--m--my b--brother +al--l--lone, D--Dick. P--pitch in, H--H--Horry." + +Accordingly they both pitched in. Dick had his hands full for a +minute. Sally ran up. + +"Everett is calling you." + +"Pugnacious little beggars!" said Dick. + +He knocked their heads together, gently, and ran off, leaving the +twins with blazing eyes, looking after him. They began to splutter. + +"It's all entirely your own fault," Sally began hastily, "and you know +it. Look at the kite." + +The kite was pitching in the gusty wind. The tail was not long enough +nor the rope either. Occasionally it would dive head down, but Everett +always managed to check it, and it rose again, twitching from side to +side. + +"M--m--my sh--shoe!" Horry cried, after one of the dives. He started +off over the field. "I'm g--g--goin' t--to g--g--get it." + +The kite dived again, straight down. Horry was almost under it, the +sight of his shoe, not more than a hundred feet above his head, making +him reckless--if anything was needed to make him so. + +"Horry!" Sally called anxiously. "Come away. You'll get hurt." + +But he showed no disposition to come away. He followed the kite, +keeping just under it, his arms upraised. Sally ran towards him; and +at that moment Everett succeeded in checking the downward dive of the +great kite, which rose slowly, tugging and twitching at its rope +viciously. It was like a live thing compelled to go up against its +will and determined to come down. It was pretty low now and it seemed +likely that the kite would have its way. + +Dick seemed to think so. "It's no use, Ev," he said. "Better let it +down easy and we'll put on more ballast." + +Everett gritted his teeth and made no reply. If any kite was to get +the better of him, it would have to fight for it. He wouldn't give in. + +"You'll have it smashed up," Dick warned him quietly. + +As he spoke, the kite gave two violent pitches and dived once more. +Even Everett could not stop it and it came down like lightning, +straight at Horry Carling. Sally saw it and so did Horry. Horry seemed +to be paralyzed; and Sally precipitated herself upon him, bearing him +to the ground, but a little away from the kite. The next instant the +heavy kite struck the ground with great force and two of its sticks +broke. It had struck Sally on her outstretched left foot and may have +broken something more than kite sticks. + +The broken kite fell over upon Sally and Horry. Horry began to +struggle. + +"L--l--lemme g--g--get out," he yelled. + +"Keep still!" said Sally. "I'll get up and then--oh!" Sally was +already part way up. There was a terrible pain in her left leg. She +felt dizzy. "I--I think--I'll lie down," she murmured; and she +fainted. + +Sally opened her eyes presently, and smiled vaguely. The kite was +gone, she was lying upon her back and Everett and Dick were bending +over her, while the Carlings and the other small boys gazed in +awe-struck silence. + +"Where's the kite?" Sally asked weakly. She was not quite herself yet. + +"Never mind about the kite, Sally," Dick answered; "it's broken and +I'm glad of it. Where did it hit you?" + +"I've a pain in my left leg," said Sally. "It's a pretty hard pain." + +Her lips were white as she spoke, and she pressed them together to +stop their quivering. She did not mean to cry. + +"We'll carry you in," said Dick. + +So he and Everett made a chair by crossing their hands, each hand +clasping one of the other boy's. Then they stooped down and Sally +managed to sit upon their clasped hands. It was the first time that +she had seen this device. + +"I'm afraid I shall fall off," she said. "Do you mind if I hold on to +you?" + +Dick laughed quietly. "Put your arms round our necks and you won't +fall. It's as easy as a cradle." + +Sally's color was quite restored and she was conscious of no pain as +she made a triumphal progress along Box Elder Street with one arm +about Dick's neck and the other about Everett's. The Carling twins +followed closely, Horry absent-mindedly carrying his shoe in his hand, +and the other boys came after. + +As Dick and Everett started to carry her upstairs, it was the happiest +moment that Sally had ever known. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Cousin Patty was in Sally's room. Cousin Patty was not, as it chanced, +fully dressed. + +"Well, Sally," she said, going towards the door, "I must go. It's +almost time for the doctor." She paused an instant, then went on +plaintively. "He hasn't been here, except professionally, for a long +time--some years. But there was a time when he came often." Miss Hazen +sighed involuntarily. + +The sigh was long and quivering and it interested Sally. "Oh, Cousin +Patty," she said eagerly, "will you tell me about it--about that time, +I mean?" + +Cousin Patty looked at Sally with the soft light of reminiscence in +her eyes. "Oh, well," she replied, with affected carelessness and +laughing lightly, "perhaps I will, if you are really interested to +hear about it. Now I must go, but I'll be back in a few minutes." + +She went out and shut the door; and Sally heard a muffled shriek and +Cousin Patty's door slammed. An instant later, her own door opened and +Doctor Beatty appeared. He was smiling. + +"Nearly scared Patty into a fit," he said. "She ought to know my +habits by this time." + +Miss Patty soon came in again, clothed but not quite in her right +mind. Her color was still high and she seemed a little flustered. +Doctor Beatty did not turn around. + +"Oh, there you are, Patty," he said. "I won't look, you know, until +you give the word." + +"How absurd!" Miss Patty exclaimed. She meant to be very dignified, +but she was very nearly smiling. "But that is to be expected. You +always were absurd." + +The doctor's visit was a long one; and, when it was done, Miss Patty +went to the door with him. + +"It has seemed quite like old times," she said softly. + +For a moment the doctor did not know what she was talking about. +"What?" he asked blankly. "Oh, yes, it has, more or less, hasn't it? +Good-bye, Patty. Keep your liver on the job. You're looking a little +bit yellow." + +There were tears in Miss Patty's eyes when she went back to sit with +Sally. + +"Doctor Beatty," she remarked after a short silence, "is not what he +was in the old days. He seems to have coarsened." + +Sally did not know what reply to make, so she made none. + +"He never used to say anything about my--my liver," resumed Miss +Patty, "when he called. He was practising then, too. It is painful to +me to see such a change in a man like him. Now, in the old days, when +he used to be here a great deal,--a _very_ great deal, Sally,--he was +not at all like that." And Miss Patty sighed. + +Just then the maid came up to announce the Carlings. + +"An', Miss Patty," she continued significantly, "Charlie's in the +kitchen." + +"Oh, is he? I'll come right down and get him." The maid withdrew. "The +dear little boy!" said Miss Patty. "I suppose he's eating what he +ought not to. I'd like to let him have anything he wants, but I know +it wouldn't be good for him." + +She rose rather hastily, but paused with her hand on the door. "Of +course, Sally," she said with a short little laugh, "you are not to +think that I had any--Oh, here are the twins, Sally." + +Miss Patty fled and the Carlings entered. + +"H--h--hello, Sally," they cried. "H--h--how's your l--l--leg?" + +Sally laughed. "It's my foot, not my leg, and it doesn't hurt me at +all, hardly." + +This appeared to upset the concerted programme of the twins. + +"B--but y--you s--s--said your l--l--leg hurt," objected Harry. + +"Well, so it did," Sally replied; "but it's my foot that's broken." + +"Your f--f--foot b--b--broken!" said Horry in astonishment. "H--h--how +c--can a f--f--foot b--be b--b--broken? D--d--does it w--work +ar--r--round?" + +"Not now, for it's all done up stiff in bandages." + +Horry was not allowed to pursue his inquiries, for the maid was at the +door again, announcing Richard Torrington. Sally sat up straighter, +and her cheeks were flushed and her eyes rather bright. The twins eyed +her with suspicion. + +As they passed down the broad stairs Harry nudged Horry again. + +"S--S--S--al--l--ly's s--stuck on D--D--Dick," he whispered. + +"S--s--sing it," said Horry, chuckling. + +"W--w--won't d--do it," replied Harry indignantly. His indignation +rose at every step. "Y--you r--r--rotten b--bum, y--you! W--w--wanted +t--to m--m--make m--me m--m--make a f--f--" The front door banged +behind the twins, and Sally heard no more. + +She had heard Harry's whispered remark and had glanced fearfully at +Dick. He seemed unconscious, and a great joy surged in Sally's heart. + +The first morning that Sally came downstairs--on crutches--she managed +her crutches unskillfully and fell half the flight. Uncle John and +Cousin Patty, followed closely by Charlie, hurried to her. Uncle John +was the most alarmed. He stooped and would have raised her head, but +Sally saved him that trouble and smiled at him. + +"I'm not hurt one mite," she said. She was not. "Wasn't I lucky?" + +He gave a great sigh of relief. + +"I was afraid," he replied. "I'm thankful that you're not. Are you +sure, Sally?" he asked anxiously. + +"Oh, yes, I'm sure." And, to convince him, Sally jumped up, nimbly, +and hopped about on one foot. + +Uncle John smiled. "It isn't very wise to try such experiments. Now, +you're to sit beside me at the table, hereafter. We can't risk that +foot, for it would be more of a misfortune to our Sally and to us if +anything serious happened to it than she realizes." + +Sally had noted the way he spoke of "our Sally"; it was affectionate, +genuinely so. There could not be the least doubt about it. + +"Now," he continued, "you will please to take my arm." + +"Oh, father," remonstrated Miss Patty, "is it safe?" + +"Quite safe, Patty," he returned quietly, "and I wish it." + +It is not to be wondered at if Sally squeezed his arm a little. She +could not say what she wanted to, right there before Cousin Patty and +Charlie. It is hard to see why she couldn't, but Uncle John seemed to +understand; and they walked solemnly in to breakfast, Sally wielding +one crutch and Uncle John the other. + +"We're two old cripples, Sally," said he. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Sally wrote Fox about it all, of course. There would have been no +excuse for her if she had not; and she wrote Henrietta, too, although +she had some difficulty in making the two letters cover the same +ground without saying the same thing. This was one of the times when +Sally's letters to Henrietta came in bunches. She alluded to her +accident in one of her letters to Doctor Galen, and he answered it +almost immediately, giving her four pages of excellent advice and +ending by taking it all back. + +"Fox tells me," he wrote, "that you have Meriwether Beatty looking +after you. In that case please consider all this unsaid. I know +something of Doctor Beatty and I am sure you couldn't be in better +hands--unless in the hands of Doctor Fox Sanderson. Have you heard +that Fox has decided to be a doctor and that he is studying with me +besides taking his course in the medical school?" + +No, Sally had not heard it. Fox was strangely reticent about himself. +He had not mentioned, even, that he had found a tenant for their +house; a tenant who would respect all of Sally's little affections--or +great affections, if you prefer--for trees from which the gynesaurus +had been wont to gaze out over the coal swamps, ages ago; a tenant +who, strangely enough, was named Sanderson. She learned this piece of +news, or inferred it, from one of Henrietta's letters. Henrietta had +supposed that Sally knew it already. + +Sally was feeling very tenderly affectionate towards Fox over this +news, and very much elated over the doctor's announcement, for it +could hardly fail to be evident what prosperity for Fox was implied in +Doctor Galen's great good will. She wrote to Fox at once, +congratulating him. + +"Everybody here seems to think that Doctor Galen is It, and so do I," +she went on. "I read Doctor Beatty what Doctor Galen said about him, +and you ought to have seen him. He looked pleased as he could be and +he smiled--he tried not to--and he positively blushed. Then he began +to talk about my foot, but my foot is not worth talking about now. It +is almost well. I go about quite easily with my crutches and Uncle +John takes me for a walk every morning, before he goes downtown. It +makes him late in getting down, but he doesn't seem to mind. Uncle +John and I have got quite fond of each other. Really, Fox, Uncle John +is the best person here. He is so kind and thoughtful and, Fox, so +polite! His politeness seems to be a part of him. Yes, I am very fond +of Uncle John. Of course, I am fond of Cousin Patty, too, but I like +Uncle John more. + +"And there are other ways I have of going out. Dick Torrington has +come in every afternoon since I hurt my foot, and, now that I can get +about so well, he takes me for a walk. It's very slow business for +him, of course, but he doesn't seem to mind, either. It's astonishing +how many people don't seem to mind. Dick is _very_ nice and kind and +satisfying. He reminds me of you in many ways. He always treats me +like a person,--as if I were as old as he is,--not as if I was only a +little girl and of no consequence, as Everett Morton seems to think. +Dick seems to _like_ to take me out. He is going to take his +examinations for Harvard this June, and he is a little afraid he won't +pass. He failed in a good many of his preliminaries--is that spelled +right?--last year. He isn't very quick at his studies. He says so +himself, so he knows it. I hope he will pass and I wish I could help +him. Uncle John says Dick's all right. Uncle John takes me to walk +again when he gets back, so that I have walking enough for a little +girl with crutches. I shan't need them very much longer, but Doctor +Beatty wants me to be careful and not to climb trees for quite a +while. There aren't any good trees here. + +"I hope you know, Fox, that I am very glad you and Henrietta are +living in our house and that I appreciate it. Write me about all the +old places, will you?" + +Fox smiled with amusement at himself to find that he felt a distinct +pang at Sally's account of Dick. If Dick was good to her there was no +reason in the world why he should not take her walking as much as he +would. But he, Fox, missed her companionship. Sally was one to be +missed. + +Dick did not succeed very well with his examinations. He had as many +conditions as it is permitted to a boy to have, and he had to study +hard all that summer. So the walks with Dick became less and less +frequent until they ceased altogether. Dick is not to be blamed. Sally +was only twelve and he could not have known how much his daily +companionship meant to her. If he had known, he would have managed, +out of the goodness of his heart, to see her oftener than once a week. +Dick was the only intimate friend that Sally had. + +Uncle John did not desert her merely because Dick had done so. They +became almost inseparable; so much so that old Cap'n Forsyth, chancing +to meet Mr. Hazen alone, one afternoon, cried out in astonishment. + +"Hello, John!" he cried in his great bluff voice, a voice that had +been heard, often, above the roaring of the wind in the rigging and +the hissing of the seas. "Hello, John! Where's the other one? Anything +the matter with her?" + +Uncle John smiled quietly. "I hope not, Stephen. I sincerely hope not. +I haven't been home yet, or you wouldn't find me alone, I trust." + +"I believe you're in love, John," Cap'n Forsyth cried again. He might +have been heard a block away. + +The smile had not left Mr. Hazen's face. "I believe I am, Stephen. I +believe I am." + +"She's worth it, is she?" roared Cap'n Forsyth. + +Mr. Hazen nodded. "She's worth it, Stephen." + +"I'm glad to hear it, John," Cap'n Forsyth shouted. No doubt he +thought he was whispering. "It's getting to be as common a sight--you +and Sally--as those Carling nuisances. And Patty's just as bad with +that little boy brother of hers. I hope he's worth it, too. Good-bye, +John." + +There was some doubt in Uncle John's mind as to Charlie's being worth +it. He and Patty were inseparable, too, and Charlie was not improved. +He was in imminent danger of being spoiled, if the mischief was not +already done. Uncle John sighed and turned homeward. He found Sally +sitting on the front steps, waiting for him. + + * * * * * + +After Dick went, in the fall, Sally had nothing to do but to try to +play by herself and devote herself to her studies and miss Dick. She +found that she missed him almost as much as she had missed Fox. As for +playing by herself, she had had that to do nearly all summer; for, +although she had tried, conscientiously, she could not feel any +interest in the other girls of her own age. They were uninteresting, +somehow. Uncle John was better, and she got into the habit of going +down to his office in the afternoons and coming home with him. Miss +Patty was very glad to have her do it. It relieved her mind; in case, +you know, he should stumble or slip or--or anything else should +happen. She felt that Sally was to be relied upon, and so she was; but +Miss Patty was putting a rather grave responsibility upon her and she +was a little too lonely. It is not good for little girls to be lonely. +She was unaware of the responsibility. + +Sally's school was a diversion. Diversion seems to be the right word. +There were about seventy scholars in the school; and, with six +classes, that makes about a dozen scholars to a class, more or less. +The lower classes had more and the upper classes, by natural processes +of elimination, had less. Sally's class had fourteen; and Sally had no +trouble at all in standing at the head of a class of fourteen. It had +made Dick envious--no, not envious, for Dick was never that; but it +was a constant wonder to him that any one should be able to stand +first in fourteen with so little work. + +In the great schoolroom, where all the scholars sat when they had no +classes to go to, the boys sat on one side and the girls sat on the +other. They were given seats according to their rank, the first class +at the back of the room and the sixth class right under the eye of +the principal, almost under his very hand. In general, this was a good +arrangement. It happened, however, that the worst behavior was not in +the lowest class, but in the fourth, which was Sally's class. So +Sally, from her seat in the fourth row from the front, saw Eugene +Spencer, commonly called "Jane," suddenly haled from his seat at her +side--Sally sat next to the boys and Jane next to the girls--and, +after a severe lecture, assigned a desk within touch of the desk of +the principal, Mr. MacDalie. + +Jane was a boy of immaculate and ladylike appearance. He listened +respectfully to the lecture and received the assignment of the desk +with a bow of thanks; all of which behavior was, in itself, +unobjectionable. Jane had a knack at that. But it drove the principal, +who was a man of irascible temper, into a white-hot rage, which Jane +respectfully sat through, apparently undisturbed. A suppressed +excitement ran along the rows of boys, who were as if on tiptoe with +expectation of what might happen. Sally, herself, was trembling, she +found; for it seemed, for a few minutes, as though the principal would +do Jane bodily harm. But nothing happened. The white-hot rage cooled +quickly, as such rages do; and the principal smiled with amusement, +changing in a moment, as such men change, and went on with his hearing +of the class in Civil Government. + +Sally was very glad that Jane was gone from his seat beside her, for +he had almost convulsed her by his pranks on countless occasions and +had very nearly made her disgrace herself by laughing aloud. She had +fears, however, still; for Jane's new desk was between the principal +and the classes that he was hearing, and was on the floor, while the +principal's desk was on the platform. Jane, therefore, was, in a +measure, concealed from the view of the astute MacDalie, but in full +view of the class, which occupied benches a few feet behind him. +Moreover, the desks on either side of Jane's--there were three of them +in a row, of which Jane occupied the middle one--were occupied, +respectively, by the Carlings. The Carlings always occupied those +desks. They had got to feeling a sort of proprietorship in them. Jane, +however, knew too much to continue his mischief on that day. He was +filled to the brim with it, that was all, and it was only a question +how long before it would run over. + +Sally was glad when the bell called her to a class downstairs; and she +sat as if in a trance and watched Jane Spencer gravely fishing in the +aquarium tank with a bent pin on the end of a thread. He kept on +fishing all through the class hour, unhindered. The single little fish +in the tank tugged at the pin occasionally, without result; and, when +the bell sounded again, Jane folded up his line and put it in his +book. + +"No luck," he observed, bowing to the teacher. + +"Too bad!" said the teacher sympathetically. + +"Yes, isn't it?" said Jane; and he withdrew in good order, leaving the +teacher smiling to himself. What was he smiling at, I wonder? + +Jane never descended to such behavior as sitting with his feet in his +desk, as Oliver Pilcher did. No doubt he considered it undignified and +generally bad form, which unquestionably it was. Moreover he would +thereby run the risk of getting caught in a situation which he +regarded as unprofessional. Oliver Pilcher was caught several times, +for it is somewhat difficult to get one's feet out of one's desk as +quickly as is necessary to avoid that humiliation. If you do not +believe it, try it. + +Jane may have tried it or he may not. He preferred a different sort of +misbehavior; it was especial balm to his soul to be thought to be +misbehaving and then to prove that he was not, for that was a joke on +the teacher which was apt, for reasons unknown, to make him hopping +mad, and Jane's end seemed to have been attained when he had made the +teacher hopping mad. He was apt to appear to be very inattentive in +class, thinking--but I do not know what he was thinking. Even Mr. +MacDalie was deceived occasionally. Jane would be sitting, looking +out of the window, perhaps, with his book face down beside him, while +the Latin translation dragged by painful jerks along the other end of +the class. Mr. MacDalie would have noted Jane's attitude, as he noted +everything, and would call upon him suddenly and, as he supposed, +unexpectedly. And Jane would take up his book, deliberately, and, +rising, begin at the very word and give a beautiful and fluent +translation until he was stopped. Sally saw that happen four times +that half-year. + +The last time, the principal smiled broadly and lowered his book. + +"Well, Eugene," he said,--he almost called him "Jane,"--"you fooled me +nicely. That translation was very nearly perfect." + +"Thank you, sir," Jane replied gravely; and he sat down and placed his +book, face down again, upon the bench beside him and resumed his +gazing out of the window. + +One day during Dick's Christmas vacation there was a great sleighing +party. There was no reason in the world why Sally should have expected +to be asked or wanted to be. She told herself so, many times; but she +was disappointed, grievously. Mr. Hazen saw it,--any one could see it +plainly,--and, because he could not bear that Sally should feel so, he +asked her if she wouldn't oblige him by going sleighing with him. And +because she couldn't bear to disappoint Uncle John, Sally went. She +was grateful to him, too. So it happened that two people, who would +have much preferred going anywhere on their own feet, were wrapped in +a buffalo robe,--one of the last of them; a robe of which Mr. Hazen +was very proud,--and, thus protected against the cold, were being +drawn easily behind the stout horse. + +At the bottom of her heart, Sally despised sleighing only a degree +less than she despised driving in a carriage. She thought she should +like riding, but of riding a horse she knew nothing. She had never in +her life been on a horse's back. As for sleighing, she thought, as +they drove along, that they might as well be in her room, sitting in a +seat that was not wide enough for two, with a buffalo robe tucked +around their knees. With the window wide open and bells jingled +rhythmically before them and an occasional gentle bounce, the effect +would not be so very different. As she thought of this, she began to +chuckle at the humor of it. You may not see any humor in the idea, but +Sally did. + +A sleigh turned the next corner suddenly, and a look of anxiety came +into Mr. Hazen's face. "That's Cap'n Forsyth," he said. "A most +reckless driver. It's best to give him the road if we can." + +Sally recognized the captain, in an old blue sleigh, very strongly +built. The captain had need of vehicles that were strongly built and +he had them built to his order, like a ship. He was standing up in the +sleigh and urging on his horse, which was on the dead run. Captain +Forsyth kept the middle of the road and made no attempt to turn out. +Perhaps he could not. + +"Hello, John," he roared, waving his whip. "Hello, Sally." + +The horse must have considered that the waving of the whip was an +indication that the captain wanted more speed, and he put on an extra +burst of it. Captain Forsyth sat down suddenly. It only amused him. + +"What d'ye think o' that, John?" he shouted. + +"Turn out, turn out, Stephen!" Mr. Hazen called anxiously. He had not +succeeded in getting completely out of the road. + +"Can't do it, John," replied the captain, regaining his feet. The old +blue sleigh struck the other on the port quarter with a crash. It was +not the captain's sleigh that was injured. + +"Charge it to me, John," the captain roared. He did not turn even his +head. "By the sound I've carried away your after davits. Charge it to +me." And Captain Forsyth was borne swiftly away. + +That "Charge it to me" rang in Sally's ears as it died away upon the +breeze. She picked herself up, laughing. Mr. Hazen was not thrown out +and was unhurt. The horse stood quietly. + +"Are you hurt, Sally?" asked Uncle John anxiously. + +"Not a bit; and you aren't, are you? Now, what shall we do?" + +"I think there is enough of the sleigh left to carry us both if we go +slowly. If not, we'll have to walk." + +Presently Sally burst out into a new fit of chuckling. "How funny +Captain Forsyth is! What shall you do, Uncle John? Shall you charge it +to him, as he said to do?" + +"Oh, yes," Uncle John replied. "It would hurt his feelings, if I +didn't. He would consider it unfriendly. He has a good many to pay +for." + +"He had much better go on his own feet," said Sally reflectively. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Sally was fifteen when the final good news came from Fox. She was in +Uncle John's office, waiting until he should be ready to go. Uncle +John's office was on the second floor of a little old wooden building +where it had always been since Uncle John had had an office. He had +chosen it because it stood just at the head of a short street leading +to a certain wharf--Hazen's Wharf; and because from its windows one +could see the length of the street and the length of the wharf and +note what was going on there and how many vessels were fitting. The +number of vessels that were fitting was surprisingly great, even now, +and Sally could see their yards sticking out over the wharf, although +their hulls were mostly hidden behind projecting buildings. That view +from his office windows had saved Mr. Hazen many steps in the course +of a long life. The fact that the business centre of the town had +moved up and had left him stranded disturbed him not at all. He was +still in his business centre. + +So Sally, thinking vaguely of Fox and Henrietta, sat at a window and +watched and was very well content with the view of the harbor and the +wharf and the ends of yards sticking over it, and as much of the hulls +of vessels as she could see, and the row of oil casks with a rough +fence of old ships' sheathing behind them, and the black dust of the +street. The black dust was stirred up now and then by the feet of +horses and by the wheels of the low, heavy truck that they were +dragging. Then a man, with a heavy mallet in his hand, approached the +row of casks and began to loosen the bungs. It was an operation that +had become familiar to Sally and she knew it to be preparation for the +work of the gauger, who would come along later and measure what was +in the casks. The man with the mallet and the gauger with his stick +were familiar figures. + +But certain other familiar figures drew into her view and watched the +man loosening the bungs, and seemed to be greatly interested in the +proceeding. They were the Carlings and Oliver Pilcher. Sally wondered +what mischief they were up to. That they were up to some mischief she +had not a doubt. The man with the mallet must have been a very +trusting, unsuspicious man. It is not at all likely that the angelic +faces of the singing twins and Oliver Pilcher were unknown about the +wharves. Even if they were, why, boys are all--even the best of +them--they are all cut by the same pattern, or they ought to be. Don't +we--you and I--feel a sort of contempt for a boy who is not? And don't +we call him "sissy" in our hearts? The other boys will not confine +their calls of "sissy" to their hearts and it is likely to go hard +with that boy. + +When the bungs were all loosened, that trusting man with the mallet +meandered slowly away, having paid no attention whatever to the boys +who watched him so innocently. Sally saw the Carlings looking after +him with an alert attention, whatever there was to be done being +evidently postponed until he was out of sight. She could not help +thinking how differently Jane Spencer would have acted. He would have +disdained to wait for the man to disappear, for there would not be any +fun in it for him unless there was some interested person present. But +Jane Spencer was Jane Spencer and there was only one of him. + +The man must have gone into some building, although Sally couldn't be +sure, for she couldn't see; but the twins turned their heads and +Oliver Pilcher gave a yell and leaped for the row of casks, closely +followed by the Carlings, who began chanting loudly. Sally could not +hear the words, but the chant marked the time to which Oliver Pilcher +leaped into the air and came down with force and precision upon one +bung after another. Just one cask behind him came Harry Carling. Sally +supposed it was Harry, for the Carlings always went in that order. +One cask behind Harry came Horry; and the casks gave out a hollow +sound, in accordance with their degrees of emptiness, after the manner +of casks,--especially oil casks,--as the three boys landed on their +respective bungs. + +The boys disappeared behind the corner of a building, but as the chant +continued, it was to be inferred that the exercise was not yet +finished; and in a moment back they came in the reverse order, landing +on the bungs with the same force and precision. For driving bungs +solidly, this method is to be commended. + +But Horry, perhaps feeling somewhat hurried as he got to the end, +missed his last bung, came down with misdirected force upon the +slippery staves and landed on his back in the oil-soaked dust. Harry, +unable to stop, landed upon him; but Oliver Pilcher made a sidewise +spring and cleared them. The twins had forgotten to sing--the moment +was too full of excitement--and were stuttering and pounding each +other. Their voices were just beginning to change. + +Some sound made Oliver Pilcher turn his head. Evidently, he hated to. + +"Cheesit!" he cried, beginning to run before the word was out of his +mouth. + +Harry did not wait to see what was coming, but got to his feet +instantly, dragging Horry by an arm, and ran. Horry protested +vehemently, but he ran, and the three boys came up the hill, directly +toward the office windows, and disappeared around the corner. Down on +the wharf the man with the mallet was patiently loosening the bungs +again. They came hard. + +Sally gasped and chuckled. "Did you see, Uncle John?" For Uncle John +was standing at her elbow. "Whose are they? The barrels, I mean." + +"They are mine, Sally," he replied, with a sigh. "I saw some of it." + +"Oh, it's too bad," said she quickly, "if they are yours." + +"It's no great matter. Patrick has plenty of time. It's only a little +annoyance." + +"And did you see the back of Horry Carling's jacket?" asked Sally, +horrified. "How will he ever get it clean?" + +"He can't," answered Uncle John briefly. + +"Their mother must have a hard time," said Sally thoughtfully, after a +moment of silence. "Are you ready to go now?" + +"Just about. Here's a letter for you, from Fox, I suppose. I'll be +ready by the time you have read it." + +Sally thanked him and took the letter. It contained rather momentous +news; news about her mother. It was good news, the best that could be, +Sally thought. She had been getting good news about her mother all +along. Indeed, she had been getting letters from her mother +occasionally for nearly two years; mere notes at first, her dear love, +scribbled on a scrap of paper. Then they began to be a little longer +and at lessening intervals; and for some months now they had been +regular letters, not long, to be sure, but letters. The improvement +was slow, very slow! + +This news was different. Her mother was well enough, at last, to leave +Doctor Galen's care. There were several things that she might do; and +Fox suggested that Mrs. Ladue come out to her old home to live. +Henrietta and he would be happy to continue there, if that met with +the approval of all concerned. There would be money enough to carry on +the establishment, he thought. But what were Sally's plans? What did +she prefer? Meanwhile-- + +Sally knew very well whose money there would be enough of, if Fox's +suggestion were accepted. It would mean that Fox would support them; +for she knew, too, that they did not have money enough. Oh, mercy, no, +not nearly enough; not enough even for them to pretend that it would +do. But she must be with her mother, and Charlie must, too. She would +not let Charlie be a bother. It would be a little harder than it used +to be, the care of Charlie, for Cousin Patty had--well--and Sally did +not say it, even to herself. She felt that it would be almost +treason. What should she do? What could she do, for that matter? It +needed thought. + +So Uncle John found a sober and serious Sally waiting for him. He +noted it at once. + +"What is it, Sally?" he asked. "Not bad news, I hope?" + +He spoke rather anxiously. Sally's worries were his concern; and that +was not such a bad state of affairs either. + +Sally smiled up at him. "Oh, no," she said. "It's good news, but I +have to think what I shall do." And she told him all about it. + +They were well on their way home by the time Sally had finished her +exposition of the question which troubled her. It was too new to her +to have been thought out and Sally presented every aspect as it +occurred to her. + +"It seems to be a large question," said Uncle John thoughtfully, "for +a little girl to have to answer, all by herself." Suddenly he turned +and looked at Sally. "Bless me! You aren't little any more. I must +stop calling you a little girl. How old are you, Sally?" + +"Fifteen last spring," Sally replied. "Had you forgotten, Uncle John?" + +"No, oh, no, I suppose not, but it is hard to realize that you are +growing up so fast. Why, you are nearly as tall as I am. And how long +have you been with us?" + +"Almost four years, Uncle John." + +"Bless me! So you have, Sally. It seems only last week that you came; +and yet, you have always been with us. Well, my dear, I don't find +myself quite ready to send you off again, and so I advise you to +dismiss the puzzling question from your mind for a day or two. Better +let me bother over it awhile. Fox can wait for a few days. He won't +mind, will he?" + +"No," she said, smiling, "Fox won't mind. He has been waiting four +years already." + +"Fox is an excellent young man," Mr. Hazen murmured. "I must see what +Patty has to say." + +Patty had a good deal to say. She came to her father in a hurry and +in some agitation that same evening, after Sally had gone to bed. It +saved him the trouble of introducing the subject and put the burden of +proof on the other side. Not that it mattered particularly to Mr. +Hazen where the burden of proof lay. He was accustomed to have his own +quiet way. In fact, consultation with Patty was rather an empty +formality; but it was a form which he always observed scrupulously. + +"Oh, father," she began, rather flurried, "what do you suppose Sally +has just told me? Her mother--" + +"I know. I was meaning to speak to you about it." + +"I am all upset. I can't bear to think of sending Charlie away now." +There were tears in poor Miss Patty's eyes. + +Mr. Hazen could not quite repress a smile. "True," he said; "I had +forgotten him." + +"Oh, father!" Miss Patty exclaimed reproachfully. "How could you?" + +"It is incomprehensible, but I was thinking of Sally. Never mind, +Patty, it comes to the same thing in the end. Would it be quite +convenient to ask Sarah Ladue to come here?" + +"Ask Cousin Sarah to come here to _live_?" Miss Patty echoed, in some +consternation. + +"Why, yes, Patty. I understand that she is likely to live and--" + +"Oh, father!" Miss Patty cried again. "You know I didn't mean--" + +"I don't pretend," Mr. Hazen resumed, smiling, "to any particular love +for Sarah, whom I never saw more than once or twice in my life. Even +that must have been many years ago. But, as I recollect, she was a +pretty, unassuming young woman whom I thought, at the time, altogether +too good for Charles." Miss Patty looked shocked. "Oh, there is +nothing gained by pretending to be blind to Charles's weakness. He was +a gambler before he left college. I knew it very well. There was +nothing to be done. Meddling with other people's children is a vice, +Patty. It never does any good. I have some misgivings--" Mr. Hazen +paused abruptly. There seemed to him nothing to be gained by following +out that line of thought either. + +"Some misgivings about what, father?" Patty prompted. + +"It doesn't matter, Patty. I have too many misgivings about +everything. It is the fault of age. As I come to think of it, Sally +looks like her mother. I hope her character--but Sally's character is +all right. As to Sarah, we have spare rooms, haven't we?" + +"Ye--es," assented Miss Patty reluctantly. She hated to give in, but +she might have known that she would have to. She did know it. "But, +father,--supporting the whole family--" + +"There is no question," said Mr. Hazen quietly; and Patty knew that +there was no more to be said. "It is a choice between letting that +young Mr. Sanderson support them,--which he would be very glad to do, +Patty,--and asking Sarah to come here. I much prefer to ask her. I +wish to keep Sally with us and you are not willing to let Charlie go. +On this plan we shall keep them both. Will you write to Sarah, +proposing it? Write as cordially as you can, Patty, will you? Thank +you." + +So it happened that Mrs. Ladue came to Whitby in September. It could +not be said to have happened, perhaps, but, at all events, she came. +They all went down behind the stout horse to meet her; all but Uncle +John. There were Cousin Patty and Charlie and Sally herself. Sally's +eyes were very bright and there was the old spot of brilliant color in +either cheek. Uncle John noticed it. He patted her hand as she got +into the carryall, but he did not speak. Miss Patty did, after they +got started. Sally was sitting up very straight and she was looking +straight ahead and the spots of color were in her cheeks still. It was +much as she had looked when she went away from her old home that she +so loved. Miss Patty could not understand it. She was even a little +afraid, I think. + +"Sally," she said hesitatingly, "don't--don't look so--so _strained_. +Surely, this is not a time to feel worried or anxious. Surely, this is +a--a joyous occasion." + +To Miss Patty's surprise, Sally burst out laughing. As Miss Patty had +implied, she did look strained. There may have been something a little +hysterical about her laugh. Miss Patty was more afraid than ever. She +proposed stopping at the apothecary's and getting a little camphor +or--or something. + +But Sally protested that she did not need camphor or anything. "You +know, Cousin Patty," she went on, the tears standing in her eyes, "I +haven't seen my mother for four years, and I don't know, quite, what +to expect. I am very--very _fond_ of my mother, Cousin Patty. I can't +help my feelings, but you needn't be afraid"--and Sally laughed a +little--"that I am going to have hysterics or anything, for I'm not." + +Miss Patty murmured some reply. Sally did not know what it was, and +Miss Patty didn't either. + +"I don't suppose," Sally continued, "that Charlie remembers mother +very well, for he--" + +"I do, too," said Charlie, with the pleasant manner which had become +usual. + +"Very well, then, you do," replied Sally patiently. And she said no +more, for they were already turning down the steep hill that led to +the station. + +In time--it seemed a very long time--but in time the train came in; +and Sally watched eagerly the crowd flowing down the steps and +spreading out on the platform. Presently, near the end, came +Henrietta, as fast as the people would permit. Sally gave a great sigh +of relief, for she was beginning to be afraid--and there was Fox. +Sally edged impatiently toward the car steps. Fox was not looking at +her; he was helping a lady whose eyes wandered eagerly over the +waiting people. The lady's mouth drooped at one corner and her hair +showed just a little gray behind her lifted veil. + +Sally ran forward, elbowing her way without remorse; she had but one +thought. Her chin quivered. A wave of tenderness overwhelmed her. + +"Oh, mother! Mother, dear! Don't you know me?" + +The drooping lips parted in a lovely smile. Sally felt her mother's +arms around her. How she had longed for that! + +"Why, Sally! Why, my own great girl! Why, darling, don't cry!" + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +They soon got used to Mrs. Ladue's gentle presence among them. Uncle +John got used to it more quickly than Sally did herself; much more +quickly than Cousin Patty did. But then, her coming was none of Cousin +Patty's doing, in spite of the fact that it was Cousin Patty who sent +the invitation. It took Patty some time to get over that. The things +that we are forced to do, however gentle the force may be, are seldom +wholly acceptable to us. As for Sally, her happiness was too great to +make it possible for her to get used to it immediately. She used to +run in when she got home from school and hug her mother. She wanted to +make sure that her presence was a "true fact," as she said. She wanted +to touch; to be certain that she had not dreamed it. + +Mrs. Ladue used to sit beside the table with its stained green cover, +in that very homelike back parlor, in the long evenings, with Uncle +John in his great chair before the bubbling fire. Miss Patty ran--or, +no, she did not run, literally. That would have been most undignified +besides being unnecessary; but it was probably unnecessary for Miss +Patty to go out so often and stay so long about her household duties. +The duties of the household rather oppressed Miss Patty and sat +heavily upon her. Household duties? Better be about them, Miss Patty +thought. So she flitted nervously in and out twenty times during an +evening. She was out more than she was in and her chair on the other +side of the fire from Uncle John's was usually empty. She went to +glance into the kitchen, to see what Bridget or Mary _could_ be about, +it was so quiet there. She hadn't heard a sound for the longest while. +"Don't you think I'd better see, father?" And her father would smile +quietly and tell her to do as she liked. Or she would wonder whether +the maids had locked the cellar door; or there was that window in the +pantry; or she had to see Charlie safely into bed, although one would +think that Charlie was very nearly old enough to see himself safely +into bed. There were things without end; anything that _might_ not be +just as Patty thought it should be. + +Uncle John and Mrs. Ladue sat quietly through it all, Mrs. Ladue with +her sewing or her embroidery or her crochet work or her book. She was +not much of an invalid, after all; not enough of an invalid to give +any trouble. She had to be careful, that was all. She must not get too +tired and she must have plenty of sleep. Those two things Doctor Galen +had enjoined upon her at parting, with much impressiveness. And he +thought that he might as well drop a line to Meriwether Beatty asking +him to keep an eye on her and to let him know how she was getting +along. "So you see, my lady, you are not out of my clutches yet," the +doctor finished merrily. To which Mrs. Ladue had replied, almost +tearfully, that she had no wish to get out of his clutches and that +she never could repay him and she didn't want to and she shouldn't +try. She _liked_ to feel that she owed her life to him-- + +"Tut, tut!" said the doctor, smiling. "Don't forget Fox." + +And Mrs. Ladue protested that there was not the least danger of her +forgetting Fox. She didn't know where they would all be if it had not +been for Fox, and she was very fond of him, and she thought--Then Fox, +himself, had appeared, and she said no more upon that subject, and +they got into their train and presently they came away. But, whatever +Mrs. Ladue's thoughts may have been, on that subject or on any other, +she said little and seemed to invite confidence. There is no reason to +believe that she wished confidences from anybody. It may have been +only that she kept her thoughts to herself, for the most part, as +Sally did, and that she was straightforward and truthful, as Sally +was. That is not to imply that Sally was an exact counterpart of her +mother. Probably Sally, in her mother's place, would have done very +differently; almost certainly her relations with Professor Charles +Ladue would have been different. Even as it was, it will be remembered +that he seemed to have a certain fear of his little daughter. He had +no fear of his wife. Mrs. Ladue's environment, to use a phrase that +needs a deal of explaining before we know exactly what we mean, had +been unsuited to her. + +The new environment was not unsuited to her, at least as far as Uncle +John was concerned. She helped to create an atmosphere of +tranquillity; an atmosphere eminently suited to an old man and one to +which that particular old man had not been accustomed. There was +nothing tranquil or serene about Miss Patty. Uncle John, it is to be +presumed, liked tranquillity and serenity. He succeeded in attaining +to a surprising degree of it, in his own person, considering. Sally +had been a help in the past four years; it was going on to five years +now. + +He was thinking upon these matters one evening as he sat reading. He +was thinking more of them than of the page before him. He put the book +down slowly, and looked up. Patty was upstairs with Charlie. + +"Sarah," he remarked, "I find it very pleasant to have you with us." + +Mrs. Ladue was surprised. There was no occasion for that remark unless +Uncle John just wanted to make it. Sally, who had not yet gone +upstairs, flushed with sudden pleasure and her eyes shone. + +"There, mother!" she cried. "There now! You see. What did I tell--" + +In Mrs. Ladue's face the faint color was coming and going. She spoke +with some emotion. + +"Thank you, Uncle John. It was kind of you to ask us. I find it very +pleasant to be here. And that--it would be so easy not to make it +pleasant. I haven't--I can't thank you suitably--" + +"There is no question of thanks, Sarah," he replied, smiling gravely. +"I hope you will put that out of your mind. You give more than you +get--you and Sally." + +"I am very glad," Mrs. Ladue murmured; "very glad and grateful. Sally +is a good girl." Uncle John smiled at Sally. "She would not bother +you--" + +Mr. Hazen reached forth and patted Sally's hand as it lay on the +table. "No. Sally doesn't bother me very much." + +"But Charlie," Mrs. Ladue continued, somewhat anxiously,--"Charlie, +I'm afraid, does. He has changed a good deal in these four years. He's +hard to manage." + +"Patty can't manage him, if you mean that," Mr. Hazen agreed. "She +doesn't try very hard. But he's developed in the wrong direction, +that's all, I think." + +"No." There was a curious hardness in Mrs. Ladue's voice and manner. +It did not seem possible that she could be speaking of her own little +son. "I doubt if he could be developed in any other direction. He's +very much like his father. His father was--" She stopped abruptly. +"But there is no use in going over that," she added. + +Mr. Hazen nodded. "I knew Charles before you did," he observed, +"and--but, as you say, there is nothing to be gained by going into +that. I may as well speak to Patty--again." + +"I have absolutely no influence with Charlie now," Mrs. Ladue sighed. +"It is natural enough that I should not have any." + +Mr. Hazen's talk with Patty amounted to nothing, as was to be +expected. No doubt he did expect it, for it is not to be supposed that +he could have lived with Patty Havering for nearly forty years without +knowing her traits. She had no real firmness. She had obstinacy +enough; a quiet, mulish obstinacy which left her exactly where one +found her. She was absolutely untouched by argument or persuasion, to +which she made little reply, although she sometimes fretted and grew +restive under it. Nothing short of her father's quiet "I wish it, +Patty" was of the least avail. She gave in to that because she knew +that it was a command, not because she knew that it was right. As to +that, was not _she_ always right? She never had the least doubt of it. +She sometimes doubted the expediency of an act; it was not expedient +to disobey her father's implied commands. Not that she had ever tried +it, but she did not think that it would be expedient. I don't think +that it would have been either. It was just as well, perhaps, that she +never tried it. But, in a matter like this one of Charlie, there was +no command direct enough to enforce obedience. You know what I mean, +as Miss Patty might have said; thereby implying that she hoped that +you did, for she didn't. She was not quite clear about it in her own +mind, but there seemed little risk in doing as she wanted to rather +than as her father wanted her to. Her own ideas were rather hazy and +the more she tried to think it out the more muddled she got. Anyway, +she said to herself, as she gave it up, she wouldn't, and she got up +from the rocking-chair which she permitted herself in her own room and +went briskly about her duties. She had sat there for as much as half +an hour. She had been watching Charlie chasing about Morton's lot, for +she could see over the high wall as she sat. Most of the boys were +tolerant chaps, as most boys are, after a certain age; but some of +them were not and some others had not reached that age of tolerance +apparently. Fortunately for Miss Patty's peace of mind she did not +happen to see any of that. + +Miss Patty, however, did not make public her decision, but Mrs. Ladue +knew what it was just as well as if she had shouted it from the +housetop. Where did a talk with Patty end but where it began? And Mrs. +Ladue had been sitting at her own window--she shared Sally's room--she +had been sitting at her own window while Patty sat at hers and looked +at Charlie over the wall. But Mrs. Ladue watched longer than Patty and +she saw several things which Patty was spared; to be sure, the wall +was very high and cut off the view from a large part of the lot, but +she saw Ollie Pilcher run after Charlie at last and chase him into +that part of the lot which she could not see. Ollie was not noted for +his patience, but Mrs. Ladue thought the loss of the remnants of it +was excusable, in the circumstances. Then there was an outcry and it +was not Ollie's voice that cried out. + +Mrs. Ladue sighed and got out of her comfortable chair and went +downstairs. She hoped she should be ahead of Patty when Charlie came +in. She was not, but she and Patty waited together; and Charlie came. +He was not crying, but the traces of tears were on his face. Miss +Patty gave a little exclamation of horror. + +"Charlie," began Mrs. Ladue hurriedly, before Patty could speak, "come +up with me. I want to talk with you." + +Charlie wanted to go with Cousin Patty; he didn't want to be talked +to. He said so with much petulance. + +"Let me take the poor child, Sarah," Patty began. + +"After I have talked with him, Patty," said Mrs. Ladue patiently. +Nobody should know how she dreaded this talk. "Come, Charlie." + +She made Charlie mount the stairs ahead of her and she succeeded in +steering him into her room. He washed his face with furious haste. + +"Charlie, dear boy," she said at last, "I was watching you for a long +time this afternoon. You know that I can see very well what goes on in +the lot from this window." + +He was wiping his face and he exposed his eyes for a moment, gazing at +his mother over the edge of the towel. They were handsome eyes and +they were filled now with a calculating thoughtfulness, which his +mother noted. It did not make her feel any easier. + +Charlie considered it worth risking. "Then you saw," he said, still +with that petulant note in his voice, "how the boys picked on me. Why, +they--" + +"I saw, Charlie," Mrs. Ladue interrupted, smiling wearily, "not how +the boys picked on you, but how you bothered them. I thought Ollie was +very patient and I didn't blame him a bit." + +"But he _hurt_ me," Charlie cried in astonishment. It was the most +heinous sin that he knew of. Patty would think so. + +"You deserved to be hurt. You are eleven, Charlie, and I'm surprised +that you don't see that your actions will leave you without friends, +absolutely without friends within a few years. Where should we be now, +Charlie," continued Mrs. Ladue gently, "if we had had no friends?" + +"Guess Cousin Patty'd be my friend," Charlie grumbled. "Guess she +would." + +"You will wear out even her doting affection if you keep on," replied +his mother almost sharply. It was difficult to imagine her speaking +with real sharpness. She regretted it instantly. "My dear little son, +why won't you do differently? Why do you prefer to make the boys all +dislike you? It's for your own good that I have talked to you, and I +haven't said so very much. You don't please Uncle John, Charlie. You +would be _so_ much happier if you would only do as Sally does and--" + +"Huh!" said Charlie, throwing down the towel. "Cousin Patty wants me, +mother." And he bolted out of the door. + +Tears came to Mrs. Ladue's eyes. Her eyes were still wet when Doctor +Beatty came in. He could not help seeing. + +"Not crying?" he asked. "That will never do." + +Mrs. Ladue smiled. "I have been talking to Charlie," she said, as if +that were a sufficient explanation. + +Indeed, it seemed to be. That, in itself, was cause for grief. "Ah!" +said the doctor. "Charlie didn't receive it with meekness, I judge." + +She did not answer directly. "It seems hopeless," she returned at +last. "I have been away from him so long that I am virtually a +stranger. And Patty--" She did not finish. + +Doctor Beatty laughed. "I know Patty. I think I may say that I know +her very well. Why, there was one period--" He remembered in time and +his tone changed. "Yes, there was one period when I thought I knew her +very well. Ancient history," he went on with a wave of his +hand,--"ancient history." + +Mrs. Ladue said nothing, but she looked sympathetic and she smiled. +Doctor Beatty sat down conveniently near her, but yet far enough away +to be able to watch her closely. + +Meanwhile the doctor talked. It was of little consequence what he +talked about, and he rambled along from one subject to another, +talking of anything that came into his head; of anything but Mrs. +Ladue's health. And the strange thing about it was that she had no +inkling as to what the doctor was about. She had no idea that she was +under observation. She only thought it queer that he had so much time +to devote to talking to her. He couldn't be very busy; but she liked +it and would have been sorry to have him give up his visits. + +Presently, in his rambling talk, the doctor was once more speaking of +the period of ancient history to which he had already thoughtlessly +alluded. + +"There was a time," he said, regarding Mrs. Ladue thoughtfully, "when I +thought I knew Patty pretty well. I used to be here pretty often, you +know. She has spoken of it, perhaps?" Mrs. Ladue smiled and shook her +head. "Ah, what a blow to vanity! I used to think--but my thoughts were +of scarcely more value then than they are now, so it's no matter what I +thought. It's a great while--fifteen or twenty years--struggling young +doctor in the first flush of youth and a growing practice. Practice +like an incubator baby; very, very frail. I suppose I must have been a +sentimental young chap; but not so young either. Must have been nearly +thirty, both of us. Then the baby got out of the incubator and I +couldn't come so often." + +He was speaking reminiscently. Then, suddenly, he realized what he was +saying and roused himself with a start. + +"Patty was charming, of course, charming," he went on, smiling across +at Mrs. Ladue. "Yes, much as she is now, with the same charm; the same +charm, in moderation." + +His eyes were very merry as he finished, and Mrs. Ladue laughed +gently. + +"Oh, Doctor," she said, "I ought not to laugh--at Patty. It's your +fault." + +Doctor Beatty looked horror-struck. "Laugh at Patty!" he exclaimed. +"Never! Nothing further from my intention. I only run on, like a +babbling brook. I'm really not responsible for what I say. No +significance to be attached to any observations I may make. You won't +mind, will you?" + +"I won't mind," Mrs. Ladue agreed. "I don't." + +"Thank you. I knew you wouldn't." Doctor Beatty rose and stood for a +moment with his hand on the knob of the door. "You're all right for a +couple of weeks anyway, or I'd warn you to keep your liver on the job. +I always give that advice to Patty, partly because she needs it and +partly because it is amusing to witness the starting of a certain +train of emotions. Good-bye." + +And the doctor went out, leaving Mrs. Ladue smiling to herself. She +had forgotten about Charlie. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Sally graduated from her school in the following June. Of all the +persons immediately concerned in that affair, even including Sally +herself, I am inclined to believe that Mr. Hazen was the most acutely +interested. He was not excited over it. A man of his age does not +easily get excited, even if he is of an excitable disposition, which +Mr. Hazen was not; but there is reason to think that he had all the +hopes and fears which Sally ought to have had, but of which she gave +no sign. She had confidence in herself and had no doubts to speak of. +At any rate, she did not speak of any, but took the whole thing as a +matter of course and one to be gone through with in its due season. +For that matter, nobody suspected Mr. Hazen of harboring fears, +although it was taken for granted that he had hopes. He gave no +outward sign of perturbation, and his fondness for Sally was no +secret. + +There was never, at that school, any long period without its little +diversions. Jane Spencer, to be sure, was in the graduating class and +his behavior had been most exemplary for some months; but there was no +such inhibition on the behavior of Ollie Pilcher and the Carlings. The +Carlings appeared one morning with grotesquely high collars, at the +sight of which a titter ran about the schoolroom. The Carlings +preserved an admirable gravity. Mr. MacDalie looked up, eyed the twins +with marked displeasure, but said nothing, and the titter gradually +faded out. The Carlings were aggrieved and felt that they had been +guilty of a failure. So they had, in a measure, and Sally could not +help feeling sorry for them. She reflected that Jane would never have +done anything of that kind. Jane would never have made a failure of +anything that he undertook, either. Jane would not have done what +Ollie Pilcher did, later, although that effort of Ollie's was a +conspicuous success, after its kind. + +It was the fashion, among certain of the boys, to have their hair +clipped when the warm weather came on. Everett Morton had never had it +done, nor had Dick Torrington, nor did Jane Spencer. They were not in +the clipped-hair caste. But Ollie Pilcher was; and it was no surprise +to the other boys when, a week before school closed, Ollie came with +clipped hair showing below his cap. He was just in time, and he went +at once and in haste to the schoolroom, removing his cap as he entered +the door. The bell in Mr. MacDalie's hand rang as he took his seat. + +Mr. MacDalie was not looking at Ollie, as it happened, but those +behind Ollie could not help seeing him. A ripple of laughter started; +it grew as more of those present caught sight of him. Mr. MacDalie saw +him. He chuckled wildly and the laughter swelled into a roar. Rising +from the top of Ollie's head of clipped hair was a diminutive braided +lock about three inches long, tied with a bow of narrow red ribbon. +And Ollie did not even smile while Mr. MacDalie was wiping his eyes +before him. His self-control was most admirable. + +The laughter finally subsided, for the time being, sufficiently to +permit King Ahasuerus and Queen Esther and Mordecai and Haman to hold +their audience spellbound for five minutes. That same audience had +been held spellbound by that same story throughout the whole of the +year just past and through other years; for Mr. MacDalie, for some +reason known only to himself and which Sally had tried in vain to +guess, had confined his reading so completely to the Book of Esther +that his hearers knew the book pretty nearly by heart. + +Although an unnatural solemnity prevailed through the reading, the +laughter would break out afresh at intervals during the morning. Mr. +MacDalie himself resolutely avoided looking in Ollie's direction as +long as he remembered. But he would forget, becoming absorbed in his +teaching, and his eye would light upon Ollie; and forthwith he would +fall to chuckling wildly and to wiping his eyes, and be unable to +continue for some minutes. He said nothing to Ollie, however, although +that youngster expected a severe reprimand, at least. It is not +unlikely that that was the very reason why he did not get it. The next +day the braided lock was gone. + +These were mere frivolities, perhaps unworthy of being recorded; and +there may seem to be an undue prominence given to mental comparisons +with Jane. But just at this time there was a good deal of Jane in +everything, and whatever was done by anybody naturally suggested to +Sally a comparison with what Jane would do. Sally was not without her +share of romance, which was, perhaps, more in evidence at this age +than at any other. She was just past sixteen, and she happened to be +devoted, at this period, to her English history. She is to be excused +for her flights of imagination, in which she saw Jane's ancestry +traced back, without a break, to the beginning of the fourteenth +century; and if the two Spencers of that time were not very creditable +ancestors, why, history sometimes distorts things, and if Edward II +had chanced to prevail over his wife and son, its verdict might have +been different. Jane was not responsible for his ancestors anyway. + +Everybody was present at the graduation exercises; everybody, that is, +of consequence in Whitby who was not prevented from being present by +illness. I allude more especially to the older generation, to the +generation of parents. All the mothers, not only of the members of the +graduating class, but of any members of any class and even of +prospective members, were there because they liked to be; the fathers +were there because they thought they ought to be. And there were many +besides, of a different generation, who were there for one reason or +another. Mr. Hazen was one of these and Everett Morton was another. + +It was easy to account for Mr. Hazen's presence, but not so easy to +account for Everett's, except that he was not doing much of anything +and thought the exercises might prove to be a diversion. Everett spent +his time, for the most part, in the pursuit of diversion. He was +through college. That does not mean that he had graduated, but, as he +said, it meant that he had left it in his sophomore year, upon the +breaking-out of the Spanish War, to volunteer; and after a hollow and +bloodless campaign in Porto Rico, he had returned, well smeared with +glory. Fortunately--or unfortunately, as you look at it--he had +escaped the camps. He did not think it worth while to go back to +college, and between ourselves, the faculty agreed with him +completely. It was the only instance of such agreement in the history +of their connection. Then he had got a place in a broker's office +which he held for a year and a half, but he had found it not to his +liking and he had given it up. Then came a long interval when his only +occupation seemed to be the pursuit of diversion. This was in the +interval. No doubt he managed to capture, occasionally, the elusive +diversion which he pursued so persistently, and no doubt, too, it was +of much the kind that is usual in such cases; but, one would think, he +found the pursuit of it an occupation more strenuous than that of the +broker's office. + +Dick could not come, for he was to have a graduation of his own in a +short time; in fact, it was hardly more than a few days. But he sent +Sally a little note, regretting that he could not be present and +wishing her luck; and further and more important, he asked if she and +her mother or Miss Patty or all of them would not come up to Cambridge +for his Class Day. + +Sally had got Dick's note just as they were starting. She handed it to +her mother, her gray eyes soft with pleasure--as they had got into the +habit of being, these last few years. + +"See, mother, dear," she said, "what Dick has asked. Do you suppose we +can go, mother, or would it be too much for you? I should like to +go." + +Mrs. Ladue smiled fondly at her daughter. "Of course you would, +darling. I'll see what Patty says, but I guess you can go. Perhaps, if +Patty doesn't want to, I can get Doctor Beatty to let me. I believe I +should like it myself. Now, don't let the prospect make you forget +your part." + +"No danger," replied Sally reassuringly. "Now I must run." + +Sally had the valedictory, or whatever it is to which the first +scholar in the class is entitled. I am not versed in such matters, not +having been concerned, at my graduation, with the duties or the +privileges of the first scholar of the class. But Sally had kept her +place at the head of a dwindling class with no difficulty and Mr. +MacDalie expected great things of her. She acquitted herself as well +as was expected, which is saying a good deal; and after the exercises +were over, she went out with Jane Spencer, leaving her mother and +Uncle John and Mr. MacDalie talking together. Patty was talking with +Doctor Beatty, who had come in late. + +Patty glanced up at Doctor Beatty with a smile. "Does that remind you +of anything?" she asked gently, nodding in Sally's direction. + +It is to be feared that the doctor was not paying attention. "What?" +He brought his chair and his gaze down together. He had been tilting +back in the chair and looking at the ceiling. "What? Sally? Her foot, +perhaps,--but that's all right years ago and it isn't likely that you +meant that. No, Patty, I give it up. What's the answer?" + +Miss Patty was disappointed. Perhaps she ought to have got used to +being disappointed by Meriwether Beatty, by this time, but she hadn't. +She sighed a little. + +"No, I didn't mean her foot. I meant her wandering off with Eugene +Spencer. He's the handsomest boy in the class. Doesn't it remind you +of--of our own graduation and our wandering away--so?" + +The doctor roared. "That was a good many years ago, Patty." It was +unkind of him to remind her of that. "You couldn't expect me to +remember the circumstances. I believe I am losing my memory; from old +age, Patty, old age." That was more unkind still, for Patty was but a +few months younger than he, and he knew it and she knew that he knew +it. "So we wandered away, did we?" + +Sally did not hear this conversation, for she was already halfway +downstairs with Jane. Neither of them had spoken. + +"Jane," she said suddenly. + +A shadow of annoyance crossed his face. "Sally," he mildly protested, +"I wish you wouldn't call me Jane--if you don't mind." + +"Why," returned Sally in surprise, "don't you like it? I supposed you +did. Of course I won't call you by a name you don't like. I'm very +sorry. Eugene, then?" + +"If you will. It's rather better than Jane, but it's bad enough." + +Sally laughed. "You're hard to please. How would it do for me to call +you Hugh--or Earl Spencer. Or, no. I'd have to call you your Grace." +She stopped and made him a curtsy; Jane was not to be outdone and, +although taken somewhat off his guard, he made her a bow with as much +grace as even Piers Gaveston could have put into it. + +"Your Highness does me too much honor," he replied solemnly; and they +both laughed from sheer high spirits. "No, Sally, you're wrong," he +added. "The old gentleman was no relative of mine. But I believe I +interrupted you. What were you going to say--right first off, you +know, when I asked you not to call me Jane?" + +"I was going to tell you that Dick Torrington has asked me to go up +for his Class Day." + +"Dick Torrington!" exclaimed Jane, mystified. "Why, Sally, he's ever +so much older than you." + +"Now, Jane, what has--I beg your pardon,--Eugene, but it's hard to +remember. But, Eugene, what has the difference in age to do with it? +It has never seemed to make any difference to Dick. You know that he's +as kind as he can be and probably he just thought that I would enjoy +it." + +They had passed through the crowded corridor--crowded because, in one +of the rooms on that floor, there was in preparation what the papers +would call a modest collation--and they were out in the yard. Jane +stopped short and looked at Sally with a puzzled expression. + +"I wonder, Sally," he said slowly, "if you know--but you evidently +don't," he added. He seemed relieved at the result of his inspection. +"Of course you'll go, but I can't help wishing you wouldn't." + +"Why?" she asked. "I mean to go if I can. Why would you rather I +wouldn't?" + +He hesitated for some moments. "I don't know that I can tell you. +Perhaps you'll understand sometime. Hello! What do you suppose they've +got?" + +Ollie Pilcher and the Carlings passed rapidly across their line of +vision. + +"Furtive sort of manner," continued Jane hurriedly. "I'll bet they're +hiding something. Let's see what it is. What do you say, Sally?" + +Sally nodded and they ran, coming upon the three suddenly. The +Carlings started guiltily and seemed about to say something; but +although they had opened their mouths, no speech issued. + +"Sing it, you twins. What have you got? Come, pony up. We spotted you. +Or perhaps you want the free-lunch committee to swoop down on you." + +If Sally had not been there the result might have been different. No +doubt Jane had made allowance for the moral effect of her presence. +The Carlings, severally, were still her slaves; or they would have +been if she had let them. They grinned sheepishly and Horry drew +something from under his jacket. It was done up in paper, but there +was no mistaking it. + +Jane reached forth an authoritative hand. Ollie remonstrated. "I say, +Jane,--" + +"Filcher," remarked Jane, "for filcher you are, although you may have +persuaded these poor innocent boys to do the actual filching--Filcher, +you'd better suspend further remarks. Otherwise I shall feel obliged to +divide this pie into quarters instead of fifths. Quarters are much +easier. It is a pie, I feel sure; a squash pie, I do not doubt. Is it +quarters or fifths, Filcher?" + +As Jane was in possession of the pie, Ollie thought it the part of +discretion to compromise. A clump of lilacs hid them from the +schoolhouse, and Jane divided the pie, which proved to be filled with +raisins, into five parts with his knife. + +"I wish to congratulate you, Horry, upon your excellent care of this +pie in transit." He passed the plate to Horry as he spoke. "No, this +is your piece, Horry. That piece is destined for me. In view of the +unavoidable inequality of the pieces, we will give Filcher the plate." + +Sally was chuckling as she ate her piece of pie, which she held in her +hand. + +"Th--th--this w--w--weath--ther's t--t--terrible h--h--hard on +p--p--pies," observed Horry thoughtfully, after a long silence. + +"It w--w--wouldn't k--k--keep," said Harry, wiping his mouth on the +back of his hand. + +"It wouldn't," Jane agreed. + +Ollie was scraping the plate. "Can't get any more out of that plate," +he sighed at last; and he scaled the tin plate into an inaccessible +place between the lilacs and the fence. + +They moved away slowly. "I wonder," Jane remarked, reflectively, "who +sent that pie." + +Sally chuckled again. "Cousin Patty sent it," she said. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Sally found that summer very full. To begin with, there was Dick's +Class Day, which was her first great occasion. I do not know what +better to call it and it must have been a great occasion for her, for, +although it did not last very long,--days never do,--the memory of it +has not completely faded even yet; and it was twelve years ago. + +As if to make her joy complete, her mother had gone and Miss Patty had +not. Not that Sally had ever the least conscious objection to Miss +Patty's going anywhere, but Patty always acted as a sort of damper +upon too much joy. Poor Patty! She had not the slightest wish to be a +sort of a damper and she did not suspect that she was. + +Mrs. Ladue was no damper. She had sat in Dick's particular easy-chair, +very smiling and content, while Dick brought things to eat and to +drink to her and to Sally in the window-seat. And there had been a +puzzled look in Dick's eyes all the time that made Mrs. Ladue laugh +and made Sally blush whenever she saw it. It was as if Dick's eyes had +just been opened; and he found it hard to realize that the blossoming +young creature in his window-seat was the same Sally that he had known +so well. That and other considerations will explain Mrs. Ladue's +laughter well enough, but hardly explain why Sally should have +blushed. I don't know why she did and I doubt if she could have told. + +Then--for Dick's Class Day was only to begin with--there were his +further good-natured attentions, which did not mean anything, of +course, Mrs. Ladue told herself, over and over. Of course Dick liked +Sally--who would not? And there was more fun in doing anything for her +than in doing it for anybody else, for Sally enjoyed everything so +much. Dick even took her sailing half a dozen times, although there +was nobody else on his parties younger than his sister Emily. And +there was Jane; but not on Dick's sailing parties. + +Jane's attentions to Sally were constant and rather jealous. How could +he help it? Dick was five years older than he, and, at seventeen, five +years is a tremendous advantage and one not to be made up by a +difference in natural gifts, concerning which there could be no doubt +either. Sally had some difficulty in keeping Jane pacified. She may +have made no conscious effort to that end, but she accomplished it, +none the less. + +When fall came, Sally went away to Normal School. It was not far from +Whitby, so that she was always within reach, but she had to be away +from home--Uncle John Hazen's was really home now--for the greater +part of two years. Her absence was a great grief to Uncle John, +although nobody suspected it but Sally. It would never have occurred +to Patty that it could make much difference to her father whether +Sally was here or there. Indeed, she did not think of it at all, being +more than ever engrossed in Charlie's career; and Charlie was in need +of a friend, although that friend was not Miss Patty. + +Another person who missed Sally's presence, if one could judge from +his behavior, was Jane Spencer. To be sure, it could have made little +difference to him that she was no longer in Whitby, except that +Whitby, although farther from Cambridge than Schoolboro', was easier +to get to. Nevertheless, as soon as Jane could snatch a day from his +arduous academic duties, he went to Schoolboro' and not to Whitby. +That was hardly a month after Sally had gone there, and she was +unaffectedly glad to see him. Therefore, Jane enjoyed his visit +immensely, and he made other visits, which were also to his immense +satisfaction, as often as Sally would let him come. There were four +that year. + +In November of her second year, Sally was called home unexpectedly by +an incoherent summons from Patty. She hurried home, filled with fears +and misgivings. What had happened to Charlie? She had no doubt that +Charlie was at the bottom of it, somehow, or it would not have been +Patty who sent the message. Had he had an accident? But Charlie +himself met her at the door, looking sulky and triumphant. + +Patty was almost hysterical, and it was a long time before Sally could +make out what was the matter. It seemed that Charlie had been +subjected to the usual mild hazing and, proving a refractory subject, +he had had his hands and feet strapped together and had been left +lying helpless in the yard. That was a final indignity, reserved for +boys who had earned the thorough dislike of their fellows, Sally knew. +She was deeply mortified. + +Her lips were compressed in the old way that she had almost forgotten. + +"I will settle it, Cousin Patty. It won't take long." + +Patty had, perhaps, mistaken the meaning of Sally's expression. At all +events, Sally looked very decided, which Patty was not. + +"Oh, will you, Sally? I felt sure that you would be touched by +Charlie's sufferings. He is your brother, you know, and--and all +that," she finished, ineffectively, as she was painfully aware. + +"Yes," Sally replied, still with that compression of the lips, "he +is." She had been about to say more, but had thought better of it. + +"Well," said Patty, after waiting some time for Sally to say what she +had decided not to, "thank you, Sally. Nobody else could attend to it +so well as you." At which speech Sally smiled rather grimly, if a girl +of seventeen can smile grimly. Her smile was as grim as the +circumstances would allow. + +She found Charlie suspiciously near the door. + +"Will you go and see old Mac, Sally? Will you?" + +"You come into the back parlor with me, Charlie," Sally answered, "and +I'll tell you what I'll do." + +When Charlie emerged, half an hour later, he was sulkier than ever, +but he was no longer triumphant. Sally went back to school that same +night. Patty did not summon her again. Sally had a way of settling +things which Miss Patty did not altogether like. + +Now it chanced that Jane chose the next day for one of his visits. It +was not a happy chance. The day itself was dull and gloomy and chilly +and Sally had not yet got over the settling of Charlie. Jane, to be +sure, did not know about Charlie, but it would have made no difference +if he had known about him. Sally greeted him with no enthusiasm; it +almost seemed to Jane that she would rather not have seen him. + +He looked at her in surprise. "What's the matter, Sally?" he asked. +"Why this--this apathy?" He had been about to call it indifference, +but decided against it. + +Jane was not without wisdom, if he did not show much of it on this +particular day. If it had been the case of another and that other had +asked his advice, he would have advised him to drop it all and go home +again. But, in our own cases, we are all more or less fools. Therefore +Jane did not drop it all and go home. + +Sally did not smile. "I don't know, Jane," she replied. "There's +nothing in particular the matter." Sally had given up the attempt to +break the Jane habit and Jane had given up objecting. + +"Well?" he asked, after waiting vainly for her to propose a walk. +"Shall we go for our usual walk? You know you don't like to stay in, +and neither do I." + +"I think," said Sally, "that I don't like anything to-day, so what +does it matter?" Surely Jane should have taken warning and run. "We'll +go out if you like." + +Jane looked at her doubtfully, but said nothing, which was probably +the best thing he could have said; and they went out, walking side by +side, in silence, until they came to a little stream which was +dignified by the name of "The River." There was a path along the bank. +That path by the river was much frequented at other seasons, but now +the trees that overhung it were bare and the wind sighed mournfully +through the branches, after its journey across the desolate marsh +beyond. On such a day it was not a place to cheer drooping spirits. It +did not cheer Sally's. + +Jane's spirit began to be affected. He looked at Sally anxiously, but +she gave no sign of ever meaning to say another word. + +"Sally!" he said. + +She glanced at him and tried to smile, but she made no great success +of it. + +"Well?" + +"Now, what is the matter, Sally? Won't you tell me?" + +"There's nothing the matter, Jane. I'm simply not in very good +spirits." + +"Sally," said poor Jane softly, "please cheer up and be light-hearted. +This isn't like you at all." + +"I can't help it," Sally answered, sighing. "I've tried. It doesn't +happen to me often. I'm not good company, am I?" + +"You're always good company for me," Jane said simply. Sally did not +seem to hear. "Try a pleasant expression," he continued, after a +pause, "and see what that does to your spirits." + +"Thank you," said she coldly, "for nothing." Then she changed +suddenly. "I beg your pardon again, Eugene. I was getting +ill-tempered. Would you have me put on a pleasant expression when I +don't feel like it?" + +He nodded, smiling. "To see the effect upon your spirits." + +"As if I were having my photograph taken?" Sally went on, "A sort of +'keep smiling' expression? Think how absurd people would look if they +went about grinning." + +"There is a certain difference between grinning and smiling," Jane +replied, "although I can't define it. And you would not look absurd, +Sally, whatever you did." + +"Oh, yes, I would," Sally said, more cheerfully than she had spoken +yet, "and so would you. No doubt I am absurd very often; as absurd as +you are now." + +Jane sighed heavily. "I've never seen it, Sally, although I should +like to see you absurd in the same way that I am now. I long to. You +couldn't be, I suppose." + +There was no answer to this remark. Waiting for one and listening, +Jane heard only the sighing of the wind across the desolate marsh and +in the trees, and the soft noise of the water flowing past. Poor Jane +was very wretched, largely, no doubt, because of the dreary day and +because Sally was wretched. He did not stop to ask why. Then he did +something which was very unwise. Even he, in more sober moments, +acknowledged its unwisdom. But, after all, would it have made any +great difference if the circumstances had been different--Sally being +what she was? I think not. Jane thought not. + +Jane leaned a little nearer. "Sally," he said softly, "can't you like +me a little? Can't you--" + +Sally looked up in surprise. "Why, Jane," she replied simply--and +truthfully, "I do like you. You know it." + +"But, Sally,"--Jane's heart was pounding so that he could not keep the +sound of it out of his voice, and his voice was unsteady enough +without that,--"but, Sally, can't you--can't you care for me? I--I +love you, Sally. I couldn't keep it to myself any longer. I--" + +"Oh, _Jane_!" Sally was the picture of dismay; utter and absolute +dismay. She had withdrawn from him a little. And she had forgotten the +state of her spirits. She was startled out of her apathy. "I didn't +know you were going to say that. Why, oh, why did you? What made you?" + +"I simply had to. I have been holding it in as long as I could, and I +couldn't see you feeling so, without--well, I had to." Jane spoke more +rapidly now. "And, Sally, I realize the absurdity of asking you now, +when I am not half through college and you are not through school, but +we could wait--couldn't we?--and if you only felt as I do, it would be +easier. I am--I shall have some money and I--" + +With an impatient wave of her hand Sally brushed all that aside. + +"That is of no consequence," she said,--"of no sort of consequence. +But why did you do it, Jane? Oh, why did you? You have spoiled it all. +I suppose we can't be good friends any more." There were tears in her +eyes. + +"I can't see why." Jane regarded her for some while without speaking. +Sally, I suppose, had nothing to say. "Does that mean," he asked at +last, "that you don't care for me in the way that I want?" + +"I should think you would know," replied Sally gently. + +"And--and you can't?" + +Sally shook her head. + +"Not ever?" + +Sally shook her head again. + +Jane stood, for a minute, gazing out over the desolate marsh. Then he +drew a long breath and turned. + +"Well," he said, smiling mirthlessly and raising his hat, "shall +I--shall we go back?" + +Sally was angry, but I don't know what for. "No," she was decided +about it; much more decided than was at all necessary. "You need not +trouble to go back with me." + +"Oh," said Jane. He smiled again and flushed slowly. "Then, if you +will excuse me, I will go to the station." + +So Jane was gone--or going--with head held high and a flush on his +face. He did not look back. Sally, as she watched him go, had a +revulsion of feeling and would have called to him. To what end? She +could not change her answer. And the sound died on her lips and she +stamped her foot angrily, and watched him out of sight. Then she fled +to her room and wept. Why, I wonder? Sally did not know. Suddenly she +had lost something out of her life. What? Sally did not know that +either. It was not Jane she wept for. Whatever it was, she knew that +she could never get it back again; never, never. + + + + +BOOK III + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Mrs. Ladue was sitting in her room with a letter in her lap. The +letter was unfinished and it seemed likely that it might not be +finished; not, at any rate, unless Mrs. Ladue brought her wandering +thoughts back to it, although, to be sure, her thoughts may have had +more to do with it than appeared. She was gazing absently out of the +window and in her eyes there was a look both tender and sad; a look +that said plainly that her thoughts were far away and that she was +recalling some things--pleasant things and sad--dwelling upon them +with fond recollection, no doubt. It was a pity that she had not more +things which could be dwelt upon with fond recollection; but it may be +that she was dwelling fondly upon the recollection of what might have +been. There is much comfort to be got out of that kind of recollection +even if it is not very real. + +What was before her eyes was the Lot covered with untouched snow +billowed by the high wind and glistening, here and there, where that +same wind had hardened and polished the surface into a fine crust. +There was the same high wall, its cement covering a trifle less +smooth, perhaps, than it had been when Sally first saw it, but giving +a scant foothold even yet. And the wall was capped, as it had been +since it was built, with its projecting wooden roof, more +weather-beaten than ever and with the moulding on the under edges +warped away a trifle more, but still holding. There was snow upon that +old roof in patches, but the wind had swept most of it clean. And over +it all was a dull, leaden sky with more snow in it. + +Although all this was before her eyes, she may not have seen any of +it; probably she had not. Judging from her look, it was something +quite different that she saw. It may have been the early years of her +marriage--very early years they must have been and very far away +now--when Professor Ladue was still good to her and she still believed +in him. Or, perhaps, she was passing in review the many kindnesses of +Uncle John Hazen and Patty. For Patty had been kind in her own way; +and what other way could she use? Every one of us has to be kind or +unkind in his own way, after all, in accordance with the natures God +has given us. Perhaps Mrs. Ladue was thinking of Doctor Galen's +care--four years of it--or of Fox's goodness. Fox had not got over +being good to them yet. And she called down blessings on his head and +sighed a tremulous sigh, and looked down at the letter which she had +held in her hand all this time, and she began to read it again, +although she had already read it over twice. + +She had not got very far with her reading when the front door opened +and shut. At the sound of it Mrs. Ladue came back, with a start, to +the present. She flushed slightly and made a motion as if to hide the +letter hastily; but she thought better of it instantly, and she held +the letter in her hand, as she had done for some time. But the flush +grew and flooded her face with color. And the wave of color receded, +according to the manner of waves, and left her face unnaturally pale. +There was the sound of steps on the stairs and the door of the room +opened and Sally came in. + +A breath of the cold still clung about her. "Well, mother, dear," she +said, stooping for a kiss, "here I am, at last. I thought I never +should get out to-day." + +"Some poor infants have to stay after?" asked her mother. "How cold +you are, Sally! Is it as bleak and dreary as it looks?" + +"Oh, no. It's nice enough, after you've been out a few minutes. At +least it's fresh, and that's something, after hours of a schoolroom. +And I don't teach infants, if you please, madam." + +Mrs. Ladue laughed quietly. "It's all the same to me, Sally," she +replied. "I don't know the difference." + +Sally sat down on the bed; which was a very reprehensible old habit +that she had never been able to shake off. Not that she had ever +tried. + +"I'm going to get something done about the ventilation," she observed +decidedly; "at least in my room. It's wicked to make children breathe +such air." She glanced at the letter which her mother still held. +"Been writing letters, mother? Who to--if you don't mind my asking?" + +"'Who to,' Sally! A fine schoolmarm you are!" said Mrs. Ladue, +smiling, in mock reproach. "I hope that is not the example you set." + +Sally laughed lightly. "It was pretty bad, wasn't it? But there are +times when even the schoolmarm must relax. It hasn't got into my blood +yet, and I'm not a universal compendium. But I noticed that you didn't +answer my question. You may have objected to its form. To whom is your +letter written?" + +"Well," her mother answered, hesitating a little, "it isn't written +yet. That is, it isn't finished. It is to Fox. Don't you want to add +something, dear? Just a few lines? I have asked him if he doesn't want +to come on--and bring Henrietta, of course. See, there is room at the +end." + +Sally took the letter, but she could not have read more than the first +two or three lines when she glanced up, with a little half smile of +surprise and amusement. + +"Perhaps I had better not read it, mother, dear," she said gently. +"Did you mean that I should?" + +"Oh, yes," Mrs. Ladue answered carelessly, "read it if you like. There +is nothing in my letters to Fox that I want to keep secret from you, +Sally." + +There was the same little half smile of amusement on Sally's lips as +she read, and a sort of suppressed twinkle in her eyes. If you wanted +to know what Sally's thoughts were--what kind of thoughts--you would +soon have got into the habit of watching her eyes. They were merry and +grave and appealing and solemn and tender and reproachful and +thoughtful and disapproving, according to the need of the hour, +although they were seldom solemn or sad now. I suppose the need of the +hour did not lie in that direction now; at least, not nearly so often +as it had, ten years before. Sally's eyes were well worth watching +anyway. They were gray and rather solemn, normally, shaded by long, +dark lashes, and gave the impression of darkness and depth; but when +she was stirred to anger, whether righteous or not, they could be as +cold and as hard as steel. But enough of Sally's eyes. Too much, no +doubt. + +Mrs. Ladue's reflections, as Sally read, might be supposed to have +been rather disquieting. They were not. Presently she laughed. "The +letter may seem queer," she said, "but you must remember that I have +not seen Fox for four years, and I want to see him. I got very fond of +Fox in my years at Doctor Galen's." + +Sally looked up. "Of course you did, mother, dear. Of course you did. +It would be very strange if you had not. I am fond of him, too." + +Mrs. Ladue smiled in reply and Sally returned to her reading. She +began again at the beginning, with the "Dear Fox." + +"Dear Fox:" she read. She was not reading aloud. "To begin with what +should come last, according to all the rules, in a woman's letter, I +want to see you. It is the sole purpose of this letter to tell you +that, so you need not look for the important matter in a postscript. +It won't be there, for it is here. Do you know that it is nearly four +years since you were here? Is there no matter in connection with my +trifling affairs that will serve as an excuse--or is any excuse +needed? Can't you and Henrietta come on for a long visit? I know the +engagements of a doctor--such a doctor, Fox!--are heavy and that I am +very selfish to ask it. Sally would be as glad as I should be to see +you both here, I am sure. I will ask her to add a few lines to this +when she comes in. She has not got back from school yet. + +"Sally seems to be quite happy in her teaching. I remember when she +got her first month's salary--she got a position right away, with Mr. +MacDalie--she came flying into the house and met Uncle John in the +hall--I was halfway down the stairs--and threw her arms around his +neck. The dear old man was startled, as he might well have been. I may +have told you all this before. If I have, don't read it. Well, he was +startled, as I said, but he smiled his lovely, quiet smile. + +"'Bless me, Sally!' he said. 'What's happened? What's the matter?' + +"'This is the matter,' she cried, waving something about, somewhere +behind his ear. 'I've got my salary. And it's all my own and the first +money I ever earned in my whole life.' + +"The dear old man smiled again--or rather he hadn't stopped smiling. +'Bless your heart!' he said. 'What a terribly long time to wait, isn't +it? But it's hardly true that it is the first money you ever earned. +The first you ever were paid, perhaps, but you've been earning it for +years, my dear, for years.' + +"Sally kissed him. 'I'm afraid you're partial, Uncle John. But do you +know what I'm going to do with my munificent salary?' + +"Uncle John shook his head. + +"'I should like to pay it to you, on account,' said Sally. 'Oh, I'm +not going to,' she added hastily, seeing that he looked hurt, 'but I'm +going to pay for all my clothes, after this, and mother's and +Charlie's. I'm afraid it won't do much more, yet awhile, but give us +pocket-money.' + +"'Very well, Sally, if that will give you pleasure,' said Uncle John. +'I like to pay for your clothes, my dear, but just as you please.' + +"Those are sentiments which a girl does not often hear. Have you, +perhaps, said to somebody--but I won't ask. Sally's salary is enough +to do much more than pay for our clothes now. + +"Charlie goes to college this next fall. I think there is little or no +doubt of his getting in. He did very well with his preliminaries last +June. He is very bright, I think, but I sometimes tremble to think of +all that lies before him. Do you realize, Fox, that Sally is almost +twenty-one and that it is ten years--almost ten years--since that +terrible time when--" + +The letter broke off here. That last sentence must have started Mrs. +Ladue upon her gazing out of the window. + +Sally looked up soberly. "I'll add my request to yours, if you like," +she remarked; "but it's hardly likely that Fox will come just because +we ask him--in the middle of winter. He must be very busy. But I hope +he'll come. I should dearly like to see him--and Henrietta, of +course--" She interrupted herself. + +"Have you spoken to Patty about Fox, mother?" she asked,--"about his +coming here?" + +Her mother smiled whimsically. "Not exactly to Patty," she replied. "I +spoke to Uncle John." + +"That is the same thing, in effect," said Sally, chuckling. "Much the +same thing, but speaking to Patty might save her self-respect." + +"I thought," Mrs. Ladue suggested gently, "that if the idea seemed to +come from Uncle John it would do that. It is a little difficult to +convince Patty and--and I didn't like to seem to press the matter." + +Sally bent forward and kissed her. "I beg your pardon," she said. "No +doubt you are right." + +She took the pen and wrote a few lines in her firm, clear hand. Then +she tossed the letter into her mother's lap and sat silent, gazing out +of the window, in her turn, at the old, familiar wall and at the snow +beyond. + +"Mother," she asked suddenly, "what would you do--what would you like +to do if father should happen to turn up?" + +Her mother was startled out of her usual calm. Her hand went up +instinctively to her heart and she flushed and grew pale again and she +looked frightened. + +"Why, Sally," she said. She seemed to have trouble with her +breathing. "Why, Sally, he hasn't--you don't mean--" + +Apparently she could not go on. "No, no," Sally assured her hastily, +"he hasn't. At least, he hasn't that I know of." + +"Oh." It was evidently a great relief to Mrs. Ladue to know that he +hadn't. The tears gathered in her eyes and dropped slowly upon the +open letter in her hand as she spoke. "I--thought--I thought +that--that--perhaps--" + +Sally understood. "Oh, mother, dear, I only wanted to know what you +would do--what you would want to do. The thought occurred to me +suddenly. I don't know why." + +"I don't know, Sally. I don't know. I suppose we ought to go back to +him. But I don't know." + +Sally laughed and her eyes were cold and hard. If Mr. Ladue had heard +that laugh and seen her eyes, I think he would not ask Sally to go +back to him. "Oh," she said lightly--but her voice was as hard as her +eyes--"oh, there is no doubt about what I would do. I would never go +back to him; never at all. You shouldn't, either, mother. So put that +bugaboo out of your mind. I hope he won't ever turn up, not ever." + +Mrs. Ladue laughed and her laugh was ready and cheerful enough. "Oh, +Sally," she said, mildly remonstrating, "we ought not to say that. We +ought not even to think it." + +"We poor mortals seldom do as we ought, mother, dear," Sally replied +lightly. "You needn't have that fear a single minute longer." + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Much to Sally's surprise, Fox came on and he brought Henrietta. + +"Doctor Sanderson's engagements cannot be very pressing," she said to +him, smiling, as she gave him her hand, "to permit of his coming +several hundred miles merely to see two lone women." + +Now Doctor Sanderson's engagements, as it chanced, were rather +pressing; and it was a fair inference from Sally's words that she was +not as glad to see him as he wished and had hoped. But her smile +belied her words. + +"Miss Ladue forgets, perhaps," he replied, bowing rather formally, +"that most of our patients are women, lone or otherwise, and that it +is all in the way of business to travel several hundred miles to see +them--and to charge for it. Although there are not many that I would +take that trouble for," he added, under his breath. "So look out, +Sally," he concluded gayly, "and wait until our bill comes in." + +That sobered Sally. "Oh, Fox," she said, "we owe you enough already." +Which was not what he had bargained for. Sally was looking at him +thoughtfully and seemed to be calculating. "Perhaps," she began, "I +could manage to--" + +"Sally," he interrupted hastily--he seemed even fierce about +it--"Sally, I'd like to shake you." + +Sally laughed suddenly. "Why don't you?" she asked. "I've no doubt it +would do me good." + +"That's better," Fox went on, with evident satisfaction. "You seem to +be coming to your senses." Sally laughed again. "That's still better. +Now, aren't you glad to see me?" + +"Why, of course I am." + +"Then, why didn't you say so?" he challenged. "Merely to gratify my +curiosity, tell me why you didn't." + +"Why didn't you?" Sally retorted, still chuckling a little. + +Fox looked blank. "Didn't I? Is it possible that I omitted to state +such an obvious truth?" + +Sally nodded. She was looking past him. "Oh," she cried quickly, +"there's Henrietta." + +"Another obvious truth," he murmured, more to himself than to Sally. +"There's Henrietta." + +Henrietta came quickly forward; indeed, she was running. And Sally met +her. Sally was quick enough, but she seemed slow in comparison with +Henrietta. + +"Sally, dear!" exclaimed Henrietta, kissing her on both cheeks. "How +glad I am to see you! You can't imagine." Which was a statement +without warrant of fact. If there was one thing that Sally could do +better than another, it was to imagine. "Come up with me and show me +my room. I've an ocean of things to say to you. Fox will excuse us, I +know." + +"Fox will have to, I suppose," he said, "whether he wants to or not." + +"You see," laughed Henrietta, "he knows his place." + +"Oh, yes," Fox agreed. "I know my place." + +Sally had not seen Henrietta for four or five years. Henrietta was a +lively girl, small and dainty and very pretty. Her very motions were +like those of a butterfly, fluttering with no apparent aim and then +alighting suddenly and with great accuracy upon the very flower whose +sweetness she had meant, all along, to capture; but lightly and for a +moment. The simile is Sally's, not mine, and she thought of it at the +instant of greeting her; in fact, it was while Henrietta was kissing +her, and she could not help wondering whether Henrietta--But there she +stopped, resolutely. Such thoughts were uncharitable. + +In spite of Sally's wonderings, she was captivated by Henrietta's +daintiness and beauty. Sally never thought at all about her own +looks, although they deserved more than a thought; for--well, one +might have asked Jane Spencer or Richard Torrington, or even Fox, who +had just seen her for the first time in years. Or Everett Morton might +have been prevailed upon to give an opinion, although Everett's +opinion would have counted for little. He would have appraised her +good points as he would have appraised those of a horse or a dog; he +might even have compared her with his favorite horse, Sawny,--possibly +to the disadvantage of Sawny, although there is more doubt about that +than there should be,--or to his last year's car. But he was driving +Sawny now more than he was driving his car, for there was racing every +afternoon on the Cow Path by the members of the Gentlemen's Driving +Club. No, on the whole, I should not have advised going to Everett. + +Sally, I say, not being vain or given to thinking about her own looks, +thought Henrietta was the prettiest thing she had ever seen. So, when +Henrietta issued the command which has been recorded, Sally went +without a word of protest, leaving Fox and her mother standing in the +back parlor beside the table with its ancient stained and cut green +cloth. Fox was not looking at her, but at the doorway through which +Sally had just vanished. + +"Well," he said at last, turning to her, "I call that rather a cold +sort of a greeting, after four years." + +Mrs. Ladue laughed softly. "What should she have done, you great boy?" +she asked. "Should she have fallen upon your neck and kissed you?" + +"Why, yes," Fox replied, "something of the sort. I shouldn't have +minded. I think it might have been rather nice. But I suppose it might +be a hard thing to do." + +"Fox," she protested, "you are wrong about Sally. She isn't cold at +all, not at all. She is as glad to see you as I am--almost. And I am +glad." + +"That is something to be grateful for, dear lady," he said. "I would +not have you think that I am not grateful--very grateful. It is one of +the blessings showered upon me by a very heedless providence," he +continued, smiling, "unmindful of my deserts." + +"Oh, Fox!" she protested. "Your deserts! If you had--" + +He interrupted gently. "I know. The earth ought to be laid at my feet. +I know what you think and I am grateful for that, too." + +To this there was no reply. + +"I think," he resumed reflectively, "that enough of the earth is laid +at my feet, as it is. I shall not be thirty until next fall." He spoke +with a note of triumph, which can easily be forgiven. + +"And I," she said, "am forty-three. Look at my gray hairs." + +He laughed. "Who would believe it? But what," he asked, "was the +special reason for your wanting to see me now? I take it there was a +special reason?" + +She shook her head. "There wasn't any _special_ reason. I meant to +make that plain and I thought I had. I feel as if I ought to apologize +for asking you at all, for you may have felt under some obligation to +come just because you were asked. I hope you didn't, Fox, for--" + +Fox smiled quietly. His smile made her think of Uncle John Hazen. "I +didn't," he said. + +"I'm glad you didn't. Don't ever feel obliged to do anything for +me--for us." She corrected herself quickly. "We are grateful, too,--at +least, I am--for anything. No, there wasn't any special reason. I just +wanted to see you with my own eyes. Four years is a long time." + +Fox, who had almost reached the advanced age of thirty, was plainly +embarrassed. + +"Well," he asked, laughing a little, "now that you have seen me, what +do you think?" + +"That," she answered, still in her tone of gentle banter, "I shall not +tell you. It would not be good for you." A step was heard in the hall. +"Oh," she added, hastily, in a voice that was scarcely more than a +whisper, "here's Patty. Be nice to her, Fox." + +However much--or little--Mrs. Ladue's command had to do with it, Fox +was as nice to Patty as he knew how to be. To be sure, Fox had had +much experience with just Patty's kind in the past four years, and he +had learned just the manner for her. It was involuntary on his part, +to a great extent, and poor Patty beamed and fluttered and was very +gracious. She even suggested something that she had had no expectation +of suggesting when she entered the room. + +"Perhaps, Mr. Sanderson," she said, with a slight inclination of her +head, "you would care to accompany us out on the harbor to-morrow +afternoon. It is frozen over, you know, and the ice is very thick. +There is no danger, I assure you. It doesn't happen every winter and +we make the most of it." She laughed a little, lightly. "The men--the +young men--race their horses there every afternoon. They usually race +on the Cow Path--Washington Street, no doubt I should call it, but we +still cling to the old names, among ourselves. These young men have +taken advantage of the unusual condition of the harbor and it is a +very pretty sight; all those horses flying along. We shall not race, +of course." + +If Sally had heard her, I doubt whether she would have been able to +suppress her chuckles at the idea of the Hazens' stout horse--the +identical horse that had drawn her on her first arrival--at the idea, +I say, of that plethoric and phlegmatic and somewhat aged animal's +competing with such a horse as Sawny, for example. Mrs. Ladue had some +difficulty in doing no more than smile. + +"Why, Patty," she began, in amazement, "were you--but I must not keep +Fox from answering." + +Patty had betrayed some uneasiness when Mrs. Ladue began to speak, +which is not to be wondered at. She quieted down. + +"I ought to have called you Doctor Sanderson," she observed, "ought I +not? I forgot, for the moment, the celebrity to which you have +attained." Again she inclined her head slightly. + +Fox laughed easily. "Call me anything you like," he replied. "As to +going with you to see the races, I accept with much pleasure, if you +can assure me that there is really no danger. I am naturally timid, +you know." + +Patty was in some doubt as to how to take this reply of Fox's; not in +much doubt, however. She laughed, too. "Are you, indeed?" she asked. +"It is considered quite safe, I do assure you." + +Mrs. Ladue looked very merry, but Patty did not see her. + +"We will consider it settled, then," Patty concluded, with evident +satisfaction. + +On her way to her room, half an hour later, Mrs. Ladue met Patty on +the stairs. + +"Sarah," said Patty graciously, "I find Doctor Sanderson very +agreeable and entertaining; much more so than I had any idea." + +Mrs. Ladue was outwardly as calm as usual, but inwardly she felt a +great resentment. + +"I am glad, Patty," she replied simply; and she escaped to her room, +where she found Sally and Henrietta. + +"Sally," she said abruptly, "what do you think? Patty has asked Fox to +go with us to see the racing to-morrow afternoon. I don't know who the +'us' is. She didn't say." + +Sally stared and broke into chuckling. "Oh, _mother_!" she cried. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Whitby has a beautiful harbor. It is almost land-locked, the entrance +all but closed by Ship Island, leaving only a narrow passage into the +harbor. That passage is wide enough and deep enough for steam-ships to +enter by; it is wide enough for ships of size to enter, indeed, if +they are sailed well enough and if there were any object in +sailing-ships of size entering Whitby Harbor. Many a ship has +successfully navigated Ship Island Channel under its own sail, but +that was before the days of steam. + +Before the days of steam Whitby had its shipping; and in the days of +shipping Whitby had its fleets of ships and barks and brigs and a +schooner or two. Although the industries of Whitby have changed, the +remnants of those fleets are active yet, or there would have been +nothing doing at the office of John Hazen, Junior, or at his wharf. +Patty and some others of the old régime, as she would have liked to +put it, were wont to sigh and to smile somewhat pathetically when that +change was alluded to, and they would either say nothing or they would +say a good deal, according to circumstances. The old industry was more +picturesque than the new, there is no doubt about that, and I am +inclined to the view of Miss Patty and her party. It is a pity. + +But some of those old barks and brigs are in commission still. Only a +few years ago, the old bark Hong-Kong, a century old and known the +world over, sailed on her last voyage before she was sold to be broken +up. They were good vessels, those old barks; not fast sailers, but +what did the masters care about that? There was no hurry, and they +could be depended upon to come home when they had filled, for the +weather that would harm them is not made. In the course of their +voyages they pushed their bluff bows into many unknown harbors and +added much to the sum of human knowledge. They could have added much +more, but ship captains are uncommunicative men, seldom volunteering +information, although sometimes giving it freely when it is asked; +never blowing their own horns, differing, in that respect, from +certain explorers. Perhaps they should be called lecturers rather than +explorers. Poor chaps! It may be that if they did not blow them and +make a noise, nobody would do it for them, but they never wait to find +out. Let them blow their penny trumpets. It is safe and sane--very. + +Captain Forsyth had pronounced views on this subject. "Explorers!" he +roared to Sally one day. "These explorers! Huh! It's all for Smith, +that's what it is, and if Jones says he has been there, Jones is a +liar. Where? Why, anywhere. That previously unknown harbor Smith has +just discovered and made such a fuss over--I could have told him all +about it forty years ago. Previously unknown nothing! It's Wingate's +Harbor, and when I was in command of the Hong-Kong we poked about +there for months. And there's another, about a hundred miles to the +east'ard that he hasn't discovered yet, and it's a better harbor than +his. Discover! Huh!" + +"But why," Sally asked in genuine surprise,--"why, Captain Forsyth, +haven't you told about it? Why don't you, now?" + +"Why don't I?" Captain Forsyth roared again. "Nobody's asked me; +that's why. They don't want to know. They'd say I was a liar and call +for proofs. Why should I? Cap'n Wingate found it, as far as I know, +but there might have been a dozen others who were there before him. I +don't know. And Cap'n Sampson and Cap'n Wingate and Cap'n Carling and +Cap'n Pilcher and--oh, all the masters knew them almost as well as +they knew Whitby Harbor. They're mostly dead now. But I'm not. And if +anybody comes discovering Whitby Harbor, why, let him look out." And +the old captain went off, chuckling to himself. + +Many a time the old Hong-Kong had entered Whitby Harbor under her own +sail. Later, the tugs met the ships far down the bay and brought them +in, thereby saving some time. Whether they saved them money or not I +do not know, but the owners must have thought they did. At least, they +saved them from the danger of going aground on Ship Island Shoal, for +that passage into the harbor was hardly wide enough for two vessels to +pass in comfort unless the wind was just right. + +Once in, it must have been a pretty sight for the returned sailors and +one to warm their hearts--a pretty sight for anybody, indeed; one did +not need to be a returned sailor for that. There, on the left, was the +town, sloping gently down to the water, with its church spires rising +from a sea of green, for every street was lined with elms. And there +were the familiar noises coming faintly over the water: the noise of +many beetles striking upon wood. There were always vessels being +repaired, and the masters of Whitby despised, for daily use, such +things as marine railways or dry-docks. They would haul down a vessel +in her dock until her keel was exposed and absolutely rebuild her on +one side, if necessary; then haul her down on the other tack, so to +speak, and treat that side in the same way. Even in these later years +the glory of Whitby Harbor, although somewhat dimmed, has not +departed. On the right shore there was nothing but farms and pastures +and hay-fields with the men working in them; for there is less water +toward the right shore of the harbor. + +There were no hay-fields visible on this day of which I am speaking, +but almost unbroken snow; and there were no noises of beetles to come +faintly to a vessel which had just got in. Indeed, no vessel could +have just got in, but, having got in, must have stayed where she +happened to lie. For Whitby Harbor was more like Wingate's Harbor, of +which Captain Forsyth had been speaking, in connection with +explorers, than it was like Whitby Harbor. It presented a hard and +shining surface, with a bark and three schooners frozen in, caught at +their anchorages, and with no open water at all, not even in the +channel. + +If you will take the trouble to recall it, you will remember that the +winter of 1904-05 was very cold; even colder, about Whitby, than the +previous cold winter had been. Toward the end of January, not only was +Whitby Harbor frozen, but there was fairly solid ice for miles out +into the bay. Whitby, not being, in general, prepared for such +winters, was not provided with boats especially designed for breaking +the ice. The two tugs had kept a channel open as long as they could; +but one night the temperature fell to twenty-three below zero and the +morning found them fast bound in their docks. So they decided to give +it up--making a virtue of necessity--and to wait; which was a decision +reached after several hours of silent conference between the tugboat +captains, during which conference they smoked several pipes apiece and +looked out, from the snug pilothouse of the Arethusa, over the +glittering surface. At a quarter to twelve Captain Hannibal let his +chair down upon its four feet and thoughtfully knocked the ashes out +of his pipe. + +"I guess we can't do it," he said conclusively. "I'm goin' home to +dinner." + +The condition, now, reminded Captain Forsyth of other days. For nearly +two weeks the temperature had not been higher than a degree or two +above zero and the ice in the harbor, except for an occasional +air-hole, was thick enough to banish even those fears which Doctor +Sanderson had mentioned. Any timidity was out of place. + +If any fear lingered in the mind of the stout horse as to the +intention of his driver; if he had any lingering fear that he might be +called upon to race, that fear was dispelled when he saw his load. He +knew very well that he would be disqualified at once. There were Patty +and Sally, and Mrs. Ladue, Fox and Henrietta, all crowded into the +two-seated sleigh. Mr. Hazen had said, smiling, that he would come, +later, from his office, on his own feet. Charlie, seeing the crowded +condition, absolutely refused to go. This was a blow to Miss Patty, +who had intended that he should drive, but was obliged to take the +coachman in his place. Sally did not blame him and made up her mind, +as she squirmed into the seat with Patty and the coachman, that she +would join Uncle John as soon as she saw him. + +It seemed as if the entire population of Whitby must be on the ice. +The whole surface of the harbor was dotted thickly with people, +skating, sliding, or just wandering aimlessly about, and, on occasion, +making way quickly for an ice-boat. There was not usually ice enough +to make ice-boating a permanent institution in Whitby, and these +ice-boats were hastily put together of rough joists, with the mast and +sail borrowed from some cat-boat; but they sailed well. + +The most of the people, however, were gathered in two long lines. The +harbor was black with them. They were massed, half a dozen or more +deep, behind ropes that stretched away in a straight line for more +than a mile; and between the ropes was a lane, fifty feet wide or +more, white and shining, down which the racing horses sped. The racing +was in one direction only, the returning racers taking their places in +the long line of sleighs which carried spectators and went back at a +very sober pace to the starting-point. Here the line of sleighs +divided, those not racing making a wide turn and going down on the +right, next the ropes, leaving the racers a wide path in the middle. + +As the Hazens' sleigh approached to take its place in the line, a +great shouting arose at a little distance. The noise swelled and died +away and swelled again, but always it went on, along both sides of the +line, marking the pace. Fox could see the waving hands and hats. + +"They seem to be excited," he said, turning, as well as he could, to +Mrs. Ladue, who sat beside him. Henrietta sat on his other side. "Do +you happen to know what it is about?" + +Mrs. Ladue was smiling happily. "Some favorite horse, I suppose," she +replied, "but I don't know anything about the horses. You'd better ask +Sally." + +So Fox asked Sally; but, before she could answer, Patty answered for +her. "I believe that it is Everett Morton and Sawny racing with Mr. +Gilfeather. I am not sure of the name, of course," she added hastily. +"Some low person." + +Sally looked back at Fox with a smile of amusement. It was almost a +chuckle. "Mr. Gilfeather keeps a saloon," she remarked. "I believe it +is rather a nice saloon, as saloons go. I teach his daughter. Cousin +Patty thinks that is awful." + +"It _is_ awful," Patty said, with some vehemence, "to think that our +children must be in the same classes with daughters of saloon-keepers. +Mr. Gilfeather may be a very worthy person, of course, but his +children should go elsewhere." + +Sally's smile had grown into a chuckle. "Mr. Gilfeather has rather a +nice saloon," she repeated, "as saloons go. I've been there." + +Fox laughed, but Miss Patty did not. She turned a horrified face to +Sally. + +"Oh, _Sally_!" she cried. "Whatever--" + +"I had to see him about his daughter. He was always in his saloon. The +conclusion is obvious, as Mr. MacDalie says." + +"Oh, _Sally_!" cried Patty again. "You know you didn't." + +"And who," asked Fox, "is Sawny?" + +"Sawny," Sally answered, hurrying a little to speak before Patty +should speak for her, "Sawny is a what, not a who. He is Everett +Morton's horse, and a very good horse, I believe." + +"He seems to be in favor with the multitude." The shouting and yelling +had broken out afresh, far down the lines. "Or is it his owner?" + +Sally shook her head. "It is Sawny," she replied. "I don't know how +the multitude regards Everett. Probably Mr. Gilfeather knows more +about that than I do." + +They had taken their place in the line of sleighs and were ambling +along close to the rope. The sleighs in the line were so close that +the stout horse had his nose almost in the neck of a nervous man just +ahead, who kept looking back, while Fox could feel the breath of the +horse behind. + +He looked at Mrs. Ladue. "Does it trouble you that this horse is so +near?" he asked. "Do you mind?" + +"Nothing troubles me," she said, smiling up at him. "I don't mind +anything. I am having a lovely time." + +And Fox returned to his observation of the multitude, collectively and +individually. They interested him more than the horses, which could +not truthfully be said of Henrietta. Almost every person there looked +happy and bent upon having a good time, although almost everybody was +cold, which was not surprising, and there was much stamping of feet +and thrashing of arms, and the ice boomed and cracked merrily, once in +a while, and the noise echoed over the harbor. Suddenly Fox leaned out +of the sleigh and said something to a man, who looked surprised and +began rubbing his ears gently. Then he called his thanks. + +"That man's ears were getting frost-bitten," Fox remarked in reply to +a questioning glance from Mrs. Ladue. "Now here we are at the end of +the line and I haven't seen a single race. I say, Sally, can't we get +where we can see that Sawny horse race? I should like to see him and +Mr. Gilfeather." + +"He's a sight. So is Mr. Gilfeather." And Sally laughed suddenly. "If +we should hang around here until we hear the noise coming and then get +in the line again, we should be somewhere near halfway down when he +comes down again. Can we, Cousin Patty?" + +Patty inclined her head graciously. "Why, certainly, Sally. Anything +Doctor Sanderson likes." + +"Doctor Sanderson is greatly obliged," said Fox. + +The nervous man appeared much relieved to find that they were to hang +around and that he was not condemned to having the nose of their horse +in his neck all the afternoon. They drove off to join a group of +sleighs that were hanging around for a like purpose. + +A light cutter, drawn by a spirited young horse, drew up beside them. + +"Good afternoon," said a pleasant voice. "Won't some one of you come +with me? You should have mercy on your horse, you know." + +"Oh, Dick!" Sally cried. There was mischief in her eyes. "It is good +of you. Will you take Edward?" + +Even Edward, the stolid coachman, grinned at that. + +"With pleasure," said Dick, not at all disconcerted, "if Miss Patty +can spare him." + +"Oh," cried Miss Patty, "not Edward." + +"Well," continued Sally, "Miss Sanderson, then." + +"With pleasure," said Dick again. There was no need to ask Henrietta. +The introductions were gone hastily through, and Henrietta changed +with some alacrity. + +"You are not racing, Dick?" Sally asked, as he tucked the robe around +Henrietta. + +"Oh, no," Dick replied solemnly, looking up. "How can you ask, Sally? +You know that I should not dare to, with this horse. He is too young." + +"Gammon!" Sally exclaimed. "I shall keep my eye on you, Dick." + +"That's a good place for it," Dick remarked. "Good-bye." + +Henrietta was laughing. "Will you race, Mr. Torrington?" she asked. + +"Oh, no," Dick repeated, as solemnly as before. "I have no such +intention. Of course, this horse is young and full of spirits and I +may not be able to control him. But my intentions are irreproachable." + +Henrietta laughed again. "Oh, I hope so," she said, somewhat +ambiguously. + +Another cutter, the occupant of which had been waiting impatiently +until Dick should go, drew up beside the Hazens'. The aforesaid +occupant had eyes for but one person. + +"Won't you come with me, Sally?" He did not mean that the wrong one +should be foisted upon him. + +Sally smiled gently and shook her head. There were so many things she +had to deny him! "Thank you, Eugene. I shall join Uncle John as soon +as he comes down--as soon as I see him." + +"Well, see him from my sleigh, then. The view is as good as from +yours. Isn't it a little crowded?" + +Sally shook her head again. + +"Won't you come?" he persisted. + +Sally sighed. "No, I thank you, Eugene. I will stay until I see Uncle +John." + +Bowing, Eugene Spencer drove off, leaving Sally rather sober and +silent. Fox watched her and wondered, and Mrs. Ladue, in her turn, +watched Fox. She could do that without being observed, now that +Henrietta was gone. But the noise that told of that Sawny horse was +coming, and they got into line. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Whatever the things in which Everett Morton had failed, driving was +not one of them. There was some excuse for his not succeeding in any +of the things he had tried: he did not have to. Take away the +necessity and how many of us would make a success of our business or +our profession? For that matter, how many of us are there who can +honestly say that we have made a success of the profession which we +have happened to choose? I say "happened to choose," because it is +largely a matter of luck whether we have happened to choose what we +would really rather do. Any man is peculiarly fortunate if he has +known enough and has been able to choose the thing that he would +rather do than anything else, and such a man should have a very happy +life. He should be very grateful to his parents. I envy him. Most of +us are the slaves of circumstances and let them decide for us; and +then, perhaps too late, discover that which we had rather--oh, so much +rather--do than follow on in the occupation which fate has forced us +into. We have to labor in our "leisure" time in the work which we +should have chosen, but did not; as if the demands of to-day--if we +would succeed--left us any leisure time! + +It is not to be supposed that Everett had such thoughts as these. He +was concerned only with Sawny, at the moment, and with Mr. Gilfeather. +He may have had the fleeting thought that he made rather a fine +figure, in his coat and cap of sables and with his bored, handsome +face. Indeed, he did. A good many people thought so. Even Sally may +have thought so; but Sally did not say what she thought. As Everett +made the turn at the head of the course, he looked around for Mr. +Gilfeather, and presently he found him. Mr. Gilfeather was a +hard-featured man, with a red face and a great weight of body, which +was somewhat of a handicap to his horse. But if the horse expressed no +objection to that and if Mr. Gilfeather did not, why, Everett was the +last person in the world to raise the question. + +"Try it again?" Mr. Gilfeather called, smiling genially. + +Everett nodded. He did manage a bored half-smile, but it could not be +called genial, by any stretch of the word. + +They manoeuvred their horses until they were abreast, and jogged down +the course. They wanted it clear, as far as they could get it; and Mr. +Gilfeather's horse fretted at the bit and at the tight hold upon him. +Sawny did not. He knew what he had to do. And presently the course +opened out clear for a good distance ahead. + +"What do you say, Everett?" asked Mr. Gilfeather. A good many people +heard it and noted that Gilfeather called Morton Everett. "Shall we +let 'em go?" + +Everett nodded again, and Mr. Gilfeather took off one wrap of the +reins. The nervous horse sprang ahead, but Sawny did not. He knew what +was expected of him. Everett had not been keeping a tight hold on him; +not tight enough to worry him, although, to be sure, it was not easy +to worry Sawny. So, when Everett tightened a little upon his bit, +Sawny responded by increasing his stride just enough to keep his nose +even with Mr. Gilfeather. He could look over Mr. Gilfeather's shoulder +and see what he was doing with the reins. Perhaps he did. Sawny was a +knowing horse and he almost raced himself. + +Mr. Gilfeather's horse had drawn ahead with that first burst of speed, +and now, seeing that Everett was apparently content, for the time, +with his place, Mr. Gilfeather tried to check him, for he knew +Everett's methods--or shall I say Sawny's?--and there was three +quarters of a mile to go. But Sawny's nose just over his shoulder made +him nervous; and the rhythmical sound of Sawny's sharp shoes cutting +into the ice--always just at his ear, it seemed--made him almost as +nervous as his horse, although Mr. Gilfeather did not look like a +nervous man. So he let his horse go a little faster than he should +have done, which was what the horse wanted; anything to get away from +that crash--crash of hoofs behind him. + +But always Sawny held his position, lengthening his stride as much as +the occasion called for. He could lengthen it much more, if there were +need, as he knew very well; as he knew there soon would be. Mr. +Gilfeather's horse--and Mr. Gilfeather himself--got more nervous every +second. The horse, we may presume, was in despair. Every effort that +he had made to shake Sawny off had failed. He hung about Mr. +Gilfeather's shoulder with the persistence of a green-head. + +In these positions, the horses passed down between the yelling crowds. +Mr. Gilfeather may have heard the yelling, but Everett did not. It +fell upon his ears unheeded, like the sound of the sea or of the wind +in the trees. He was intent upon but one thing now, and that thing was +not the noise of the multitude. + +When there was but a quarter of a mile to go, Sawny felt a little more +pressure upon the bit and heard Everett's voice speaking low. + +"Now, stretch yourself, Sawny," said that voice cheerfully. + +And Sawny stretched himself to his full splendid stride and the sound +of that crash of hoofs came a little faster. It passed Mr. +Gilfeather's shoulder and he had a sight of red nostrils spread wide; +then of Sawny's clean-cut head and intelligent eye. Did that eye wink +at him? Then came the lean neck and then the shoulder: a skin like +satin, with the muscles working under it with the regularity of a +machine; then the body--but Mr. Gilfeather had no time for further +observation out of the corner of his eye. His horse had heard, too, +and knew what was happening; and when Mr. Gilfeather urged him on to +greater speed, he tried to go faster and he broke. + +That was the end of it. He broke, he went into the air, he danced up +and down; and Sawny, who never was guilty of that crime, went by him +like a streak. + +Everett smiled as he passed Mr. Gilfeather, and his smile was a little +less bored than usual. "If I had known that this was to be a +running-race," he said; but Mr. Gilfeather lost the rest of Everett's +remark, for Sawny had carried him out of hearing. + +It chanced that they had passed the Hazens' sleigh just before Mr. +Gilfeather's horse broke. Sally watched the horses as they passed, +with Sawny gaining at every stride. Her face glowed and she turned to +Fox. + +"There!" she said. "Now you've seen him. Isn't he splendid?" + +"Who? Mr. Morton?" Fox asked innocently. "He does look rather +splendid. That must be a very expensive coat and the--" + +Sally smiled. "It was Sawny that I meant." + +"Oh," said Fox. + +"Everett might be included, no doubt," she continued. + +"No doubt," Fox agreed. + +"He is part of it, although there is a popular opinion that Sawny +could do it all by himself, if he had to." + +"Having been well trained," Fox suggested. + +Sally nodded. "Having been well trained. And Everett trained him, I +believe." + +Fox was more thoughtful than the occasion seemed to call for. "It +speaks well for his ability as a trainer of horses." + +"It does." Sally seemed thoughtful, too. + +"And what else does Mr. Morton do," asked Fox, "but train his horse?" + +"Not much, I believe," Sally replied. "At other seasons he drives his +car; when the roads are good." + +"A noble occupation for a man," Fox observed, cheerfully and +pleasantly; "driver and chauffeur. Not that those occupations are not +quite respectable, but it hardly seems enough for a man of Mr. +Morton's abilities, to say the least." + +Sally looked up with a quick smile. "I am no apologist for Everett," +she said. "I am not defending him, you observe. I know nothing of his +abilities." + +"What do you know, Sally," Fox inquired then, "of popular opinion?" + +"More than you think, Fox," Sally answered mischievously, "for I have +mixed with the people. I have been to Mr. Gilfeather's saloon." + +"Oh, _Sally_!" cried Patty, "I _wish_ you wouldn't keep alluding to +your visit to that horrible place. I am sure that it was unnecessary." + +"Very well, Cousin Patty, I won't mention it if it pains you." She +turned to Fox again. "I was going to say that it is a great pity." + +Fox was somewhat mystified. "I have no doubt that it is, if you say +so. I might fall in with your ideas more enthusiastically if I knew +what you were talking about." + +"I am talking about Everett," Sally replied, chuckling. "I don't +wonder that you didn't know. And I was prepared to make a rather +pathetic speech, Fox. You have dulled the point of it, so that I shall +not make it, now." + +"To the effect, perhaps, if I may venture to guess," Fox suggested, +"that Everett might have made more of a success of some other things +if he had felt the same interest in them that he feels in racing his +horse." + +"If he could attack them with as strong a purpose," Sally agreed, +absently, with no great interest herself, apparently, "he would +succeed, I think. I know that Dick thinks he has ability enough." + +Fox made no reply and Sally did not pursue the subject further. They +drove to the end of the course in silence. Suddenly Sally began to +wave her muff violently. + +"Oh, there is Uncle John," she said. "If you will excuse me, I will +get out, Cousin Patty. You needn't stop, Edward. Just go slow. I +find," she added, turning again to the back seat, "that it is the +popular opinion that it is too cold for me to drive longer in comfort, +so I am going to leave you, if you don't mind." + +"And what if we do mind?" asked Fox; to which question Sally made no +reply. She only smiled at him in a way which he found peculiarly +exasperating. + +"Take good care of father, Sally," said Patty anxiously. + +"I will," Sally replied with a cheerful little nod. "Good-bye." And +she stepped out easily, leaving Patty, Fox, and her mother. This was +an arrangement little to Patty's liking. Doctor Sanderson was in the +seat with Mrs. Ladue. To be sure, he might have changed with Patty +when Sally got out, but Mrs. Ladue would not have him inconvenienced +to that extent. She noted that his eyes followed Sally as she ran and +slid and ran again. Mr. Hazen came forward to meet her and she slipped +her hand within his arm, and she turned to wave her muff to them. Then +Sally and Uncle John walked slowly back, toward the head of the +course. + +Fox turned to Mrs. Ladue and they smiled at each other. "I guess," Fox +remarked, "that she is not changed, after all; except," he added as an +afterthought, "that she is more generally cheerful than she used to +be, which is a change to be thankful for." + +Sally and Uncle John took Dick Torrington home to dinner; and +Henrietta very nearly monopolized his attention, as might have been +expected. It was late, as the habits of the Hazens went, when they +went up to bed, but Henrietta would have Sally come in for a few +minutes. She had _so_ many things to say. No, they wouldn't wait. She +would have forgotten them by the next day. And Sally laughed and went +with Henrietta. + +Henrietta's few minutes had lengthened to half an hour and she had not +said half the things she had meant to say. She had told Sally how Mr. +Spencer--Eugene Spencer, you know--had overtaken them at the head of +the course and had accosted Mr. Torrington, challenging him to race. + +"Mr. Spencer," continued Henrietta, with a demure glance at Sally, +"seemed out of sorts and distinctly cross. I'm sure I don't know why. +Do you, Sally?" + +Sally looked annoyed. "He is very apt to be, I think," she remarked +briefly. "What did Dick do? He said he was not going to race." + +"Yes, that's what he told Mr. Spencer, and Mr. Spencer said, in a +disagreeable kind of way, 'You promised Sally, I suppose.' And +Dick--Mr. Torrington--smiled and his eyes wrinkled. I think he was +laughing at Mr. Spencer--at the pet he was in. Don't you, Sally?" + +Sally nodded. She thought it very likely. + +"And Dick--I must ask Mr. Torrington's pardon, but I hear him spoken +of as Dick so often that I forget--Mr. Torrington told him, in his +slow, quiet way, that he hadn't exactly promised you; that, in fact, +he had warned you that his horse was spirited and somewhat fractious +and he might not be able to hold him. He had warned somebody, anyway, +and he thought it was you. It wasn't you, at all, Sally. It was I, but +I didn't enlighten him." + +"I knew, very well, that he would," Sally observed. "So he raced with +Jane?" + +"With Mr. Spencer," Henrietta corrected. "Do you call him Jane? How +funny! And we beat him and he went off in a shocking temper, for Dick +laughed at him, but very gently." + +"I'm not sure that would not be all the harder for Jane. I suppose you +were glad to beat him." + +"Why, of course," said Henrietta, in surprise. "Wouldn't you have +been?" + +Sally was rather sober and serious. "I suppose so. It wouldn't have +made any particular difference whether you beat him or not." + +Henrietta made no reply to this remark. She was sitting on the bed, +pretty and dainty, and was tapping her foot lightly on the floor. She +gazed at Sally thoughtfully for a long time. Finally Sally got up to +go. + +"Sally," Henrietta asked then, smiling, "haven't you ever thought of +him--them--any one"--she hesitated and stammered a little--"in that +way?" She did not seem to think it necessary to specify more +particularly the way she meant. "There are lots of attractive men +here. There's Everett Morton and there's Eugene Spencer, though he's +almost too near your own age; but anybody can see that he's perfectly +dippy over you. And--" + +"And there, too," Sally interrupted, "are the Carlings, Harry and +Horry, neither of whom you have seen because they happen to be in +college. The last time they came home, Harry was wearing a mustache +and Horry side-whiskers, so that it would be easy to tell them apart. +The only trouble with that device was that I forgot which was which. +And there is Ollie Pilcher, and there is--oh, the place is perfectly +boiling with men--if it is men that you are looking for." + +Henrietta gave a little ripple of laughter. "You are too funny, Sally. +Of course I am looking for men--or for a man. Girls of our age are +always looking for them, whether we know it or not--deep down in our +hearts. Remember Margaret Savage? Well, she seems to be looking for +Fox, and I shouldn't wonder if he succumbed, in time. She is very +pretty." + +There was a look of resentment in Sally's eyes, but she made no +remark. + +"And I have not finished my list," Henrietta went on. "I can only +include the men I have seen to-day. To end the list, there is Dick +Torrington. Haven't you--haven't you thought--" + +Sally flushed slowly; but she smiled and shook her head. "You see, +Henrietta," she said apologetically, "I have my teaching to think +of--" + +"Oh, bosh!" cried Henrietta, smiling. + +"Fox knows," Sally continued, defensively, "and you can't have wholly +forgotten, Henrietta." + +"Bosh, Sally!" said Henrietta again. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +IT was but a few steps from Henrietta's door to Sally's own. Sally, +her ideas a little confused by that exclamation of Henrietta's and by +what it implied, walked those few steps softly and had her hand upon +the knob of her own door when she found herself sniffing and realized +that she smelt smoke. It was a very faint smell and she hesitated, +even then, and stood there in the dark hall, recalling the fires that +had been left. There had been no wood fire. + +She took her hand softly from the knob. "I believe I'll just look +around," she told herself. "It's a terrible night for a fire. I hope +nobody'll take me for a burglar." + +She went downstairs quickly, taking no pains to be quiet. If she were +not quiet, she thought, with an involuntary chuckle, Uncle John would +not be likely to think she was the sort of person that had no business +to be in the house at all. She looked into the back parlor. All was +right there. Then she opened the door leading into the back hall. The +smell of smoke was stronger. She glanced into the kitchen. The top of +the range was red-hot, to be sure, but that was not unusual enough to +excite surprise, and the great old chimney, with its brick oven and +broad brick breast and the wide brick hearth reaching out well beyond +the range were enough assurance. The smoke must come from the cellar. + +The cellar door was in the back hall, just at Sally's hand as she +stood. She opened it; and was almost stifled by the smoke that poured +out. She gasped and shut the door again quickly, and ran and opened a +kitchen window, fumbling a little at the fastening, and drew two or +three long breaths of the crisp night air, thinking how cold it was. +Then she opened the cellar door again, held her breath, and went down. + +It was a little better when she got down, although the smoke was +thick up by the floor beams. Sally glanced in the direction of the +furnace; and she saw, through the smoke, a dull red glow, with little +licks of flame running up from it, now and then. The man had forgotten +the furnace and had left it drawing. That pipe was perilously near the +beams. + +"The idiot!" Sally exclaimed. And she held her breath again while she +ran up the cellar stairs. + +She was angry with herself because her hands trembled as she lighted +the gas in the kitchen and found the lantern and lighted it. The +slight trembling of her hands did not matter so much in filling a +pitcher with water and by the time the pitcher was full her hands were +steady enough. She ran down cellar again, the lantern in one hand and +the pitcher in the other; and she shut the drafts in the furnace as +far as she could. She heard the flame roaring in the pipe and the +damper was red-hot. + +"Oh, dear!" she said, under her breath. "If there was only something +to take hold of it with! And the beams are all afire. Well,--" + +She threw the water from her pitcher upon the beams in little dashes. + +"Oh, dear!" she said again. "I can't do it." + +A quiet voice spoke behind her. "Better give it up, Sally, and rouse +the people." + +Sally was too intent upon her purpose to be startled. "Oh, Uncle +John!" she cried. "You are a very present help in trouble. We could +put it out if this was all, but I'm afraid it has already got up +between the walls." + +"Come up, then," Uncle John spoke calmly and without haste. "Never +mind the lantern. I will rouse Patty and Doctor Sanderson and you get +at Henrietta and your mother and the servants. Don't send Patty to the +servants," he added, with a smile. "I will send in the alarm." + +Mr. Hazen had forgotten Charlie. Sally ran upstairs. There was still a +light showing under Henrietta's door and Sally went in. + +"You'd better not undress, Henrietta," she said. "There is a fire and +we may have to get out. You may have time to do a good deal, if you +hurry--even to pack your trunk. You'd better put on your furs. It's +terribly cold." + +Henrietta was not flurried. "I'll be ready in a jiffy, Sally. Run +along now." + +Sally ran and woke her mother, telling her to get dressed quickly +while she went for the servants. On her way up, she knocked at +Charlie's door. She came downstairs presently, settled the servants in +the hall, and went up to her room to help her mother. + +Then the firemen came with a tremendous clanging of bells and +shrieking of whistles, reveling in noise. Sally laughed when she heard +them, and her mother laughed with her, rather nervously. The rest of +it was a sort of nightmare to Sally and she had no very distinct +recollection of any part of it. There was great confusion, and firemen +in the most unexpected places, and hose through the halls and on the +stairs. Fox and Henrietta had packed their trunks and Patty had two +pillows and a wire hair-brush, which she insisted upon carrying about +with her. + +Then they were ordered out, and Sally found herself out in the night +and the cold amid the confusion of firemen and engines and horses and +ice. For both Appletree and Box Elder streets seemed full of hose, +which leaked at every pore and sent little streams of water on high, +to freeze as soon as they fell and form miniature cascades of ice on +which an old man--a young man, for that matter--might more easily slip +and fall than not. It was very dark out there, the darkness only made +more dense by the light from the lanterns of the firemen and the +sparks from an engine that was roaring near. They were throwing water +on the outside of the house--two streams; and Sally wondered why in +the world they did it. There was no fire visible. Perhaps Fox would +know. And she looked around. + +Their faces could just be made out, in the gloom; her mother and +Charlie, Charlie with the bored look that he seemed to like to assume, +copied after Everett; and Patty, still with her two pillows and her +wire hair-brush, looking frightened, as she was; and Henrietta and Fox +and the huddled group of the servants. She could not see Uncle John. +There were not many spectators, which is not a matter for surprise. +There is little interest in trying to watch a fire which one cannot +see, late on a night which is cold enough to freeze one's ears or +fingers, and the curbstone is but cold comfort. + +Fox and Henrietta were talking together in low tones. "Fox," asked +Sally, "do you know why they are throwing water on the outside of the +house. For the life of me, I can't make out." + +"For their own delectation, I suppose," he answered soberly. "It is a +fireman's business--or part of it--to throw water on a building as +well as all over the inside, when there is any excuse. Besides, the +water, as it runs off the roof and all the little outs, forms very +beautiful icicles which, no doubt, delight the fireman's professional +eye. Think how pretty it will look to-morrow morning with the early +sun upon it." + +Sally chuckled. "I see them dimly," she returned, "but very dimly. +They ought to have a search-light on them." + +"I believe there is one," he observed. "They will have it going +presently." + +"Oh," Sally exclaimed; and she chuckled again. + +Thereupon, as if it had been a signal, a brilliant white light shone +forth. It happened to be pointed exactly upon the little group, but +shifted immediately so that it illuminated the roof. There were great +rippling cascades of ice down the slope of it and icicles forming at +each edge and the water streaming off them. + +Sally was silent for a few moments. "It is certainly very pretty," she +said then, "and should delight the fireman's professional eye. I +suppose that I might enjoy it more if it were not our house." + +The moment's illumination had served to point them out to somebody. +Mrs. Ladue touched Sally on the arm. + +"Sally, dear," she said, "I think that we may as well go now. Mrs. +Torrington has asked us all to stay there. Won't you and Henrietta +come?" + +"She is very kind," Sally replied. "I had not thought about going +anywhere, yet. I am warm, perfectly warm. I have my furs, you see. I +think I will wait until I see Uncle John, mother, and we can go +somewhere together. I don't like to leave him. But probably Fox and +Henrietta will go." She looked around. "But where is Patty?" + +"Gone to Mrs. Upjohn's a few minutes ago. Poor Patty! I am very glad +to have her go." + +Henrietta had gathered the drift of the talk, although she had not +heard any names. She turned. "I could stay here with you, Sally, or I +could go if it would be more convenient. I am warm enough. Who has +asked us?" + +Mrs. Ladue answered for Sally. "Mrs. Torrington sent Dick to find us," +she said. "Here he is." + +Henrietta's decision changed instantly. "Oh," she cried, "Mr. +Torrington! It is very kind, and I accept gratefully. When shall we +start, Mrs. Ladue?" + +Sally barely repressed a chuckle. "I'll stay, thank you, Dick; for +Uncle John, you know." + +"Good girl, Sally. I hope I'll fare as well when I'm old. Come +whenever you get ready. Somebody will be up and I think we have room +for everybody. Will Doctor Sanderson come now?" Dick added. + +Doctor Sanderson thanked him, but elected to stay with Sally, and +Sally urged Dick not to expect them and on no account to stay up for +them. + +Dick and Henrietta and Mrs. Ladue had scarcely gone when the roaring +engine choked, gave a few spasmodic snorts and its roaring stopped. + +"What's the matter with it?" Sally asked. "Why has it stopped?" + +"Colic," Fox replied briefly. + +Sally chuckled again and took his arm. He made no objection. The +engine seemed to be struggling heroically to resume its roaring and +there was much running of firemen and shouting unintelligible orders, +to which nobody paid any attention. In the midst of the confusion, Mr. +Hazen appeared. He was evidently very tired and he shivered as he +spoke to Sally. + +"I have done all I could," he said. "That wasn't much. Where are the +others, Sally?" + +Sally told him. "You must be very tired, Uncle John," she went on, +anxiously. "And you are wet through and colder than a clam. Your teeth +are positively chattering." + +He looked down at himself and felt of his clothes. The edge of his +overcoat and the bottoms of his trousers were frozen stiff. "I guess I +am tired," he replied, trying to call up a smile, "and I am a little +cold. I've been so occupied that I hadn't noticed. And I slipped on +one of their piles of ice. It didn't do any harm," he added hastily. +"I think I'll go over to Stephen's--Captain Forsyth's. He won't mind +being routed out. What will you do, Sally? Why don't you and Fox come, +too?" + +Sally hesitated. There was no object in their staying any longer, but +she did not like to impose upon Captain Forsyth. If she had only known +it, Captain Forsyth would have liked nothing better than to be imposed +upon by Sally in any way that she happened to choose. + +While she was hesitating she heard a voice behind her. "Mr. Hazen," +said the voice, rather coldly and formally, "won't you and Sally--Miss +Ladue--and--any others--" + +Sally had turned and now saw that it was Everett. She knew that well +enough as soon as he had begun to speak. And she saw, too, that he was +looking at Fox. She hastened to introduce them. It was necessary, in +Everett's case. They both bowed. + +"My mother sent me," Everett resumed, in the same formal tone, "to +find any of the family that I could and to say that we hope--my father +and my mother and myself--we hope that they will come to-night and +stay as long as they find it convenient." He seemed to have no great +liking for his errand. "It is very awkward," he added, with his bored +smile, "to be burned out of your house at night and on such a very +cold night, too." + +"Oh, but think," said Sally, "how much worse it might be. It might +have been at three o'clock in the morning, when everybody would have +been sleeping soundly." + +"That is very true," he returned. "I suppose you are thankful it was +not at three o'clock in the morning." He looked at them all in turn +questioningly. "Will you come? We should be very glad if you would." + +Again Sally hesitated. Uncle John saved her the trouble of answering. + +"I had just expressed my intention of going to Stephen Forsyth's, +Everett," he said, "and I think I will. Stephen and I are old cronies, +you know. We are very much obliged to you and I have no doubt that +Sally and Dr. Sanderson will go, with pleasure. They must have had +about enough of this." + +Everett bowed. Sally could hear Uncle John's teeth chattering and his +voice had been very shaky as he finished. + +"Let Fox prescribe for you, Uncle John," she said. "I'm worried about +you. What's the use of having a doctor in the family if he doesn't +prescribe when there is need?" And then Sally was thankful that it was +dark. + +Uncle John smiled his assent and Fox prescribed. "I have no doubt that +Captain Forsyth will have certain remedies at hand," he concluded, +"and I should think there would be no harm in your taking them, in +moderation." + +Uncle John laughed. "He will press them upon me," he said. "I will +observe Doctor Sanderson's prescription. Now, good-night. No, Sally, +Stephen's is just around the corner, you know." + +He disappeared into the darkness and Sally, with much inward +misgiving, prepared to follow Everett. She was really worried about +Uncle John. He was an old man, just upon eighty, and he had gone +through a great deal that night and was chilled through, she was +afraid, and-- + +She stopped short. "Oh, Fox," she cried. "The servants! I had +forgotten them. What in the world shall we do with them?" + +Everett had stopped, too, and heard Sally's question. "That is not +difficult," he said. "Send them to our house. It is a large house and +there is room for them in the servants' wing. Perhaps I can find +them." + +Everett was back in a moment. "That was easy," he remarked. "You need +give yourself no concern." + +They walked in silence up the long driveway, between the rows of +shadowing spruces, and up the broad granite steps. Everett had his key +in the latch and threw open the door. + +"My mother did not come down, apparently. You will see her in the +morning." + +As she took off her furs in the hall, Sally was very grateful for the +warmth and the cheerfulness and the spaciousness of the great house. +Everett slipped off his coat of sables and led the way up the stairs. + +"Your room, Sally--I shall call you Sally?" He looked at her, but not +as if in doubt. + +"Why, of course," said Sally in surprise. + +"Your room, Sally," he resumed, "is down that hall, just opposite my +mother's. The door is open and there is a light. Doctor Sanderson's is +this way, near mine. I will show him. Good-night, Sally." + +"Good-night," she answered; "and good-night, Fox." + +They turned and she went down the hall, her feet making no sound in +the soft carpet. The door which Everett had pointed out as his +mother's stood ajar, and, as Sally passed, it opened wider and Mrs. +Morton stepped out. + +"You are very welcome, Sally, dear," she said, kissing her; "as +welcome as could be. I will see Doctor Sanderson in the morning. Come +down whenever you feel like it. It has been a trying night for you." + +Sally's eyes were full of tears as she softly closed her own door. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +There were times when, in spite of disease, death, or disaster, Mrs. +John Upjohn had to have clothes; more clothes, no doubt I should say, +or other clothes. At any rate, when such occasions were imminent, Mrs. +Upjohn was wont to summon the dressmaker to come to her house, and the +dressmaker would come promptly and would camp in the house until the +siege was over, going home only to sleep. One would think that Mrs. +Upjohn might have offered Letty Lambkin a bed to sleep in, for Letty +had been a schoolmate of hers before misfortune overtook her; and Mrs. +Upjohn had beds to spare and Letty always arrived before breakfast and +stayed until after supper. Perhaps such an offer would have offended a +sensitive spirit. That is only a guess, of course, for I have no means +of knowing what Mrs. Upjohn's ideas were upon that subject. At all +events, she never gave Letty a chance of being offended at any such +offer. + +An occasion such as I have mentioned arose on the day of the Hazens' +fire, and Mrs. Upjohn had accordingly sent John Junior around to +Letty's house with the customary message. Which message John Junior +had delivered with an air of great dejection and with the very evident +hope that Miss Lambkin would be unable to come. But, alas! Miss +Lambkin smiled at John cheerfully and told him to tell his mother that +she would be there bright and early in the morning; that she had felt +it in her bones that Alicia Upjohn would be wanting her on that day, +and she had put off Mrs. Robbins and Mrs. Sarjeant on purpose so's +Alicia wouldn't have to wait. + +Whereupon John Junior muttered unintelligibly and turned away, leaving +Miss Lambkin gazing fondly after him and calling after him to know if +it wasn't cold. John Junior muttered again, inaudibly to Miss Lambkin, +but not unintelligibly. He was not fond of those sieges, to say the +least. + +"Darn it!" he muttered, kicking viciously at the ice. "That means two +weeks and I can't stay at Hen's all the whole time for two weeks. A +fellow has to be at home for meals. If she only wasn't there for +breakfast and supper!" John Junior kicked viciously at the ice again; +and, the ice proving refractory, he stubbed his toe and almost fell. +"Ow!" he said; "darn it!" But that was an afterthought. He betook him +to the harbor. + +There is some reason to believe that the late John Senior had not +regarded these visitations with more favor than did his son; there +were some that did not hesitate to say that his end had been hastened +by them and by the semiannual house-cleaning. Mrs. Upjohn was +considered a notable housekeeper. "She takes it hard," he had said to +Hen's father in an unguarded moment of confidence. Hen's father had +laughed. Hen's mother was not a notable housekeeper. John Senior had +sighed. At that time there was but one club in Whitby. He was not a +member of that club. Such men as Hugh Morton and Gerrit Torrington +were members; even John Hazen was said to be a member, although he was +never at the club-rooms. So even that solace was denied to John +Senior. He couldn't stay at Hen's house all the time either; and, +there seeming to be no other way of escape, he up and had a stroke and +died in two hours. At least, so rumor ran, the connection between +cause and effect being of rumor's making. I have no wish to contradict +it. I have no doubt that I should have wanted to do as John Senior had +done. Very possibly Patty had some such wish. + +The two weeks of Letty were now up and the end was not in sight. She +and Mrs. Upjohn sat in Mrs. Upjohn's sewing-room, which was strewn +with unfinished skirts and waists and scraps of cloth. Letty sewed +rapidly on the skirt; Mrs. Upjohn sewed slowly--very, very slowly--on +something. It really did not matter what. If the completion of Mrs. +Upjohn's clothes had depended upon Mrs. Upjohn's unaided efforts she +would never have had anything to wear. + +"Where's Patty gone, Alicia?" asked Letty, a thread between her teeth. +"Hospital?" + +Mrs. Upjohn stopped sewing. "Yes," she replied in her deliberate way. +"I believe her father is worse. She got a message this morning before +you came, and I think it was unfavorable, to judge by her face." + +"Land!" said Miss Lambkin. "I guess he's going to die. He's a pretty +old man. Eighty, if he's a day, would be my guess." + +Mrs. Upjohn nodded. "Just eighty." + +"Pretty good guess, I call it." Miss Lambkin laughed. "I thought he +must be pretty sick, or Patty wouldn't be out of the house as soon as +ever breakfast was over and not turn up again until dinner-time. Then, +as like as not, she'd be gone the whole afternoon. I hear he's got +pneumonia." + +Mrs. Upjohn nodded again. + +"And I hear," Letty continued, "that he got it getting chilled and wet +the night of the fire. 'T was an awful cold night, and he would stay +around the house and try to tell the firemen what they sh'd do. Of +course, they couldn't help squirting on him some." + +"I hope," said Mrs. Upjohn, "that they didn't mean to." + +"I hope not," Miss Lambkin returned. "I sh'd think the ones that did +it would have it on their consciences if they did. They tell me that +Sally Ladue discovered the fire. She and that Doctor Sanderson have +been at the Mortons' ever since and, if you can believe all you hear, +neither of 'em likes it any too well. Mrs. Morton's nice to her--she +can be as nice as nice to them that she likes, though you wouldn't +always think it--but Everett's the trouble." + +It was contrary to Mrs. Upjohn's principles to look surprised at any +piece of information--and as if she had not heard it before. She gave +a little laugh. + +"A good many girls," she remarked, "would give their eyes to be at the +Mortons' for two weeks." + +"I guess that's what's the trouble with Everett," said Miss Lambkin +pointedly. "Too much girl; and I guess he isn't any too particular +about the kind either." + +Mrs. Upjohn was curious. To be sure, she was always curious, which was +a fact that she flattered herself she concealed very neatly. Other +people were not of the same opinion. + +"Why, Letty?" she asked frankly. She seldom allowed her curiosity to +be so evident. "I've never heard of his being seen with any girls that +he ought not to be with. Have you?" + +"Oh, not in Whitby," replied Miss Lambkin. "Not for Joseph! As far's +that goes, he isn't seen very often with girls that he ought to be +with. But I hear that when he's in Boston it's a different story. Of +course, I haven't seen him with my own eyes, but I have reliable +information. You know he goes to Boston for weeks at a time." + +"M-m," assented Mrs. Upjohn, rocking quietly and comfortably. "He +stays at the best hotels, I believe." + +"_Registers_ at the most expensive," corrected Miss Lambkin, "I have +no doubt. I s'pose he stays there some of the time. To tell the +truth," she confessed, somewhat crestfallen at having to make the +humiliating confession, "I didn't just hear what Everett does that +Sally Ladue doesn't like." + +"Oh," said Mrs. Upjohn. She did not look up and there was a certain +air of triumph in the way she uttered that simple syllable which +grated on Miss Lambkin's sensibilities. + + +"Sally's a sort of high-and-mighty girl," continued Miss Lambkin +tentatively. + +"Sally's a nice girl and a good girl," said Mrs. Upjohn cordially; +"capable, I should say." + +"No doubt she is," Letty returned without enthusiasm. "It's rather +strange that she is all that, considering what her father did." + +Mrs. Upjohn laughed comfortably. "I used to know her father. There was +no telling what he would do." + +"Ran off with another woman," said Letty, "and some money. That's what +I heard." + +Mrs. Upjohn laughed again. "He disappeared," she conceded. "I never +heard that there was any other woman in the case and I'm reasonably +sure there wasn't any money." + +"He hasn't ever been heard of since?" + +Mrs. Upjohn shook her head. + +"And he left them without any money? I thought he stole it." + +"I don't think so. Doctor Sanderson kept them afloat for some time, I +believe, until Patty asked Sally here. Then he got Mrs. Ladue into +Doctor Galen's hospital." + +"M-m," Letty murmured slowly. She had a needle between her lips or she +would have said "o-oh." She removed the needle for the purpose of +speech. "So that's Doctor Sanderson's connection with the Ladues. I +always wondered. It might have been 'most anything. His sister's up +and coming. She'll have Dick Torrington if he don't look out. She's +made the most of her visit." + +Letty's murmur might have meant much or it might have meant nothing at +all. At all events, Mrs. Upjohn let it go unchallenged, possibly +because her curiosity was aroused by what Letty said later. She asked +no questions, however. She only waited, receptively, for further +communications on the subject of Henrietta and Dick. Miss Lambkin did +not vouchsafe further information on that subject, but immediately +branched off upon another. + +"I'm told," she said, with the rapidity of mental change that marked +her intellectual processes, "that John Hazen's house was in an awful +state the morning after the fire. I went around there as soon's ever I +could, to see what I could see, but the door was locked and I couldn't +get in. I looked in the windows, though, and the furniture's all gone +from some of the rooms, even to the carpets. There was a ladder there, +and I went up it, and the bedroom was all stripped clean. I couldn't +carry the ladder, so I didn't see the others. I made some inquiries +and I was told that the furniture was all stored in the stable. That +wasn't burned at all, you know. I thought that perhaps Patty'd been +and had it moved, though it don't seem hardly like her. It's more like +John Hazen himself. But he wasn't able." + +Mrs. Upjohn smiled and shook her head. "It wasn't Patty," she replied, +"or I should have known it. I guess it was Sally. Perhaps Doctor +Sanderson helped, but it is just like Sally. She's a great hand to +take hold and do things." + +"You don't tell me!" said Miss Lambkin. "But I don't suppose she did +it with her own hands. I shouldn't wonder," she remarked, "if she'd +find some good place to board, the first thing you know. She might go +to Miss Miller's. She could take 'em, I know, but she wouldn't have +room for Doctor Sanderson, only Sally and her mother and Charlie. +Charlie's a pup, that's what he is. But I can't see, for the life of +me, what Doctor Sanderson keeps hanging around here for. Why don't he +go home?" + +Not knowing, Mrs. Upjohn, for a wonder, did not undertake to say. Miss +Lambkin hazarded the guess that the doctor might be sparking around +Sally; but Mrs. Upjohn did not seem to think so. + +"Well," Letty went on, "I wonder what the Hazens'll do. It'd cost an +awful sight to repair that house; almost as much as to build a new +one. What insurance did you hear they had? Has Patty said?--This skirt +is about ready to try on, Alicia. I want to drape it real nice. Can't +you stand on the table?" + +She spread a folded newspaper on the top of the table. + +"There! Now, you won't mar the top. Take your skirt right off and +climb up." + +Mrs. Upjohn was a heavy woman and she obeyed with some difficulty. +Miss Lambkin continued in her pursuit of information while she draped +the skirt. + +"You haven't answered about the insurance, Alicia. What did Patty say +about it? I don't suppose Patty'd know exactly and I wouldn't trust +her guess anyway. John Hazen never seemed to, to any extent. Patty's +kind o' flighty, isn't she, and cracked on the men, although you +wouldn't think it from her highty-tighty manner. She used to think she +was going to marry Meriwether Beatty, I remember. Land! He had no more +idea of marrying her than I had. And she's been cracked on every man +that's more'n spoken to her since. She's got the symptoms of nervous +prostration; all the signs of it. I shouldn't be a bit surprised if +she went crazy, one o' these days. If Doctor Sanderson is looking for +patients for his sanitarium he needn't look any farther. Patty's it. +Turn around, Alicia. I don't get a good light on the other side. Why, +Patty's--" + +Mrs. Upjohn had heard the front door shut. "Sh-h-h!" she cautioned. +"Here's Patty now." + +They heard Patty come slowly up the stairs and, although there were no +sounds of it, she seemed to be weeping. + +"Now, I wonder," whispered Miss Lambkin, "what's the matter. Do you +s'pose her--" + +"Sh, Letty! She'll hear you. I'll get down and go to her." + +"Without a skirt, Alicia?" + +But Mrs. Upjohn did not heed. She got down from the table, clumsily +enough, and went to the door. Patty had just passed it. + +"Patty!" Mrs. Upjohn called softly. "Is there anything the matter?" + +Patty turned a miserable, tear-stained face. "It--it's all o-over," +she said dully. + +"Your father?" asked Mrs. Upjohn. She spoke in an awe-struck whisper +in spite of herself. Did not Death deserve such an attitude? + +Patty nodded silently. "I'm so sorry, Patty," Mrs. Upjohn's sympathy +was genuine. "I _am_ so sorry." + +"Oh, Alicia," Patty cried in a burst of grief, "my father's d-dead." + +Mrs. Upjohn folded ample arms about her and patted her on the shoulder +as if she had been a child. "There, there, Patty! I'm just as sorry as +I can be; and so will everybody be as soon as they hear of it. But +you just cry as much as you want to. It'll do you good." + +So they stood, Mrs. Upjohn unmindful of the fact that she had no skirt +and Patty crying into a lavender silk shoulder. + +"Land!" The voice was the voice of Miss Lambkin and it proceeded from +the doorway. "I'm awfully sorry to hear your father's dead, Patty. How +did--" + +Patty lifted her head majestically from the lavender silk shoulder. +"My grief is sacred," she murmured; and fled to her room. + +"Mercy me!" muttered Miss Lambkin. "I didn't have my kid gloves on. I +ought to have known better'n to speak to Patty without 'em. You may as +well come back, Alicia," she continued in a louder voice, "and finish +with that skirt. Perhaps, now, you'll be wanting a new black dress. +Your old one's pretty well out of fashion." + +She filled her mouth with pins while Mrs. Upjohn again mounted the +table. + +Mrs. Upjohn shook her head slowly. "No," she answered, "I guess the +old one will do for a while yet. I shouldn't want one for anything but +the funeral anyway, and you couldn't begin to get one done by that +time. It would be different if it was a relative." + +"It's curious," remarked Miss Lambkin, as well as she could with her +mouth full of pins, "how things go. Now, there's many of our +relatives--mine, anyway--that we could spare as well as not; better +than some of those that are no kin to us. And we have to wear black +for them and try to look sorry. Black isn't becoming to some, but it +seems to me you'd look full as well in it as you do in that lavender, +and that place on your shoulder where Patty cried tears is going to +show anyway. But, as I was going to say, a man like John Hazen is +going to be missed. I wonder who was there, at his death-bed. Patty, +of course, and Sally Ladue, I s'pose, and maybe Mrs. Ladue and +Meriwether Beatty. Sally was real fond of her Uncle John and he of +her. It's my opinion that Sally'll be sorrier than Patty will. Come +right down to it, Patty isn't so broken-hearted as she likes to think, +though she'll miss him." + +To this Mrs. Upjohn agreed, but Letty did not wait for her reply. + +"And I wonder," she went on, working rapidly while she talked, "how +much he's left. Patty hasn't said, I s'pose. I don't s'pose she'd have +much of an idea anyway, and I don't know's anybody could tell until +his business is all settled up. He had quite a number of vessels, and +it seems a great pity that there isn't anybody to take his business up +where he left it. He did well with it, I'm told. It's my guess that +you'll find that John Hazen's left Sally a good big slice." + +"I hope so, with all my heart." Mrs. Upjohn spoke cordially, as she +did invariably of Sally. + +"My!" Letty exclaimed with an anticipatory squeal of delight. +"Wouldn't it put Patty in a proper temper if he had! Now, Alicia," she +said, standing back and looking the skirt up and down, "we'll call +that skirt right. It hangs well, if I do say it. Take it off and I'll +finish it right up. You can come down now." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Miss Lambkin was right. Sally found a place to board--a nice place, to +quote Letty Lambkin, although it was not Miss Miller's. No doubt Letty +was sorry that Sally had not chosen Miss Miller's, for Miss Miller was +an especial friend of Letty's; and, by choosing another place, Sally +had cut off, at a blow, a most reliable source of information. Very +possibly Sally did not think of this, but if she had, it would have +been but one more argument in favor of her choice, for Mrs. Stump +couldn't bear Letty, and she had vowed that she should never darken +her door. Letty would not have darkened the door very much. She was a +thin little thing. But, if Sally did not think of it, Letty did, and +she regretted it. She even went so far as to mention it to Mrs. +Upjohn. + +"If Sally Ladue thinks she's getting ahead of me," she said, with +sharp emphasis, "she'll find she's mistaken. I have my sources of +information." + +Mrs. Upjohn did not reprove her. She had an inordinate thirst for +information which did not concern her, and Letty was the most +unfailing source of it. So she only smiled sympathetically and said +nothing. She was sorry to be deprived of such accurate information +about Sally as Miss Miller would have supplied, but she still had +Patty. In fact, Mrs. Upjohn was beginning to wonder how much longer +she was to have Patty. Patty seemed to have no thought of going. +Indeed, she would not have known where to go. Patty was entering upon +some brand-new experiences, rather late in life. Already she was +beginning to miss the pendulum. + +Before Sally took this step which seemed to be so much more important +to others than to herself, various things had happened, of which Miss +Lambkin could have had no knowledge, even with her reliable sources of +information. Everett Morton had had an interview with his mother, at +her request. He would not have sought an interview, for he had a +premonition of the subject of it. + +Mrs. Morton was one of those rare women whom wealth had not spoiled; +that is, not wholly; not very much, indeed. There was still left a +great deal of her natural self, and that self was sweet and kind and +yielding enough, although, on occasions, she could be as decided as +she thought necessary. This was one of the occasions. The interview +was nearly over. It had been short and to the point, which concerned +Sally. + +"Well, Everett," said Mrs. Morton decidedly, "your attitude towards +Sally Ladue must be changed. I haven't been able to point out, as +exactly as I should like to do, just where it fails to be +satisfactory. But it does fail, and it must be changed." + +Everett was standing by the mantel, a cigarette between his fingers. +"You do not make your meaning clear, my dear mother," he replied +coldly. "If you would be good enough to specify any speech of mine? +Anything that I have said, at any time?" he suggested. "If there has +been anything said or done for which I should apologize, I shall be +quite ready to do so. It is a little difficult to know what you are +driving at." And he smiled in his most exasperating way. + +Mrs. Morton's color had been rising and her eyes glittered. Everett +should have observed and taken warning. Perhaps he did. + +"Everett," she said, as coldly as he had spoken and more incisively, +"you exhibit great skill in evasion. I wish that you would use your +skill to better advantage. I have no reason to think that there have +been any words of yours with which I could find fault, although I do +not know what you have said. But Sally could be trusted to take care +of that. It is your manner." + +Everett laughed. "But, my dear mother!" he protested, "I can't help +my manner. As well find fault with the color of my eyes or--" + +His mother interrupted him. "You can help it. It is of no use to +pretend that you don't know what I mean. You have wit enough." + +"Thank you." + +"And your manner is positively insulting. You have let even me see +that. Any woman would resent it, but she wouldn't speak of it. She +couldn't. Don't compel me to specify more particularly. You put Sally +in a very hard position, Everett, and in our own house, too. You ought +to have more pride, to say the least; the very least." + +Everett's color had been rising, too, as his mother spoke. "I am +obliged for your high opinion. May I ask what you fear as the +consequence of my insulting manner?" + +"You know as well as I," Mrs. Morton answered; "but I will tell you, +if you wish. Sally will go, of course, and will think as badly of us +as we deserve." + +"That," Everett replied slowly, "could perhaps be borne with +equanimity if she takes Doctor Sanderson with her." + +Mrs. Morton laughed suddenly. "Oh," she exclaimed, "so that is it! I +must confess that that had not occurred to me. Now, go along, Everett, +and for mercy's sake, be decent." + +Everett's color was still high, but if he felt any embarrassment he +succeeded in concealing it under his manner, of which his mother +seemed to have so high an opinion. + +He cast his cigarette into the fire. "If you have no more to say to +me, then, I will go," he said, smiling icily. His mother saying +nothing, but smiling at him, he bowed--English model--and was going +out. + +Mrs. Morton laughed again, suddenly and merrily. "Oh, Everett, +Everett!" she cried. "How old are you? I should think you were about +twelve." + +"Thank you," he replied; and he bowed again and left her. + +So Mrs. Morton had not been surprised when Sally came to her, a day or +two later, to say that she thought that they--Doctor Sanderson and +she--had imposed upon Mrs. Morton's kindness long enough and that she +had found a boarding-place for her mother and Charlie and herself. + +"I am very sorry to say that I am not surprised, Sally, dear," Mrs. +Morton returned, "although I am grievously disappointed. I had hoped +that you would stay with us until the house was habitable again. I +have tried," she added in some embarrassment, "to correct--" + +Sally flushed quickly. "Please don't speak of it, dear Mrs. Morton," +she said hastily. "It is--there has been nothing--" + +"Nonsense, Sally! Don't you suppose I see, having eyes? But we won't +speak of it, except to say that I am very sorry. And I think that you +wouldn't be annoyed again. Won't you think better of your decision and +stay until you can go to your own house?" + +"Oh, but nobody knows when that will be," Sally replied, smiling. +"Nothing has been done about it yet. Patty doesn't seem to know what +to do. Uncle John was the moving spirit." There were tears in her +eyes. + +"I know, Sally, dear, I know. I am as sorry as I can be. I am afraid," +she added with a queer little smile, "that I am sorrier for you than I +am for Patty." + +"Thank you. But you ought not to be, you know, for he rather--well, he +steadied Patty." + +Mrs. Morton laughed. "Yes, dear, I know. And you didn't need to be +steadied. But I'm afraid that I am, just the same." + +So it was settled, as anything was apt to be concerning which Sally +had made up her mind. Mrs. Ladue did not receive the announcement with +unalloyed joy. She smiled and she sighed. + +"I suppose it is settled," she said, "or you would not have told me. +Oh," seeing the distress in Sally's face, "it ought to be. It is quite +time. We have made a much longer visit upon Mrs. Torrington than we +ought to have made, but I can't help being sorry, rather, to exchange +her house for Mrs. Stump's. But why, Sally, if you found it +unpleasant--" + +"Oh, mother, I didn't say it was unpleasant. Mrs. Morton was as kind +as any one could possibly be." + +"I am glad, dear. I was only going to ask why Fox stayed." + +Fox murmured something about Christian martyrs and a den of lions, and +Mrs. Ladue laughed. Then she sighed again. + +"Well," she said, "all right, Sally. You will let me know, I suppose, +when we are to go. We can't stay on here forever, although I'd like +to." + +At that moment Dick came in. "Why not?" he asked. "Why not stay, if +you like it?" + +"How absurd, Dick!" Sally protested. "You are very kind, but you know +mother will have to go pretty soon. And I've found a very good place." + +"If Sally says so, it's so," Dick retorted, "and there's no use in +saying any more about it. Mrs. Stump's or Miss Miller's?" + +Fox had been looking out of the window. He turned. "Mrs. Ladue," he +asked suddenly, "will you go sleighing with me to-morrow? It will be +about my last chance, for I go back when Sally leaves the Mortons'." + +"Oh," cried Sally, "why not me, too? And Henrietta?" + +Fox smiled at her. "There's a reason," he said. "I'll take you when +the time is ripe. I have something to show your mother and we have to +go after it." + +"Can't you get it and show it to me, too?" + +Fox shook his head. "I'm afraid not. It isn't mine, for one thing." + +"Oh," said Sally, her head in the air. "And I suppose you'll go in the +morning, when I'm in school." + +"That might not be a bad idea. We might be followed. Can you go in the +morning, Mrs. Ladue?" + +She laughed and nodded. She would go at any time that suited him. + +So it chanced that Fox and Mrs. Ladue started out, the next morning. +Fox drove along Apple Tree Street and turned into another street. + +"Isn't this Smith Street?" asked Mrs. Ladue doubtfully. "Where are we +going, Fox?" + +"I'm astonished at your question," he replied. "You ought to know that +this is still Witch Lane for all the old families, in spite of the +fact that it is known, officially, as Smith Street. I have yet a very +distinct recollection of Miss Patty's lamentations over the change. +That was ten years ago, when Sally first arrived." + +Mrs. Ladue laughed. She would have laughed at anything that morning. + +"But, do you mind telling me where we are going?" + +"I can't tell you exactly, as I am not very familiar with the country +here. I know where I am going," he explained hastily, "but I doubt if +I could tell you. We shall come to the end of the built-up part pretty +soon, and then it takes us out into the country. There'll be a turn or +two, and what I want you to see is about two miles out. Mr. Morton," +he added, "put a horse at my service, and I have been exploring. I +have not wasted my time." + +Mrs. Ladue made no reply. She was happy enough, without the need of +speech. They drove on, past the built-up part, as Fox had said, past +more thinly scattered houses, with little gardens, the corn-stubble +already beginning to show above the snow, here and there, for it had +been thawing. Then they began to pass small farms, and then, as they +made the first of the turn or two, the farms were larger, and there +were rows of milk-cans on their pegs in the sun. + +Suddenly Mrs. Ladue laughed. "Now I know where I am," she exclaimed. +"That is, I remember that Uncle John Hazen brought me out here one +day, nearly two years ago. He wanted to show me something, too." + +Fox turned and looked at her. "That is interesting," he said. "I +wonder if he showed you the same place that I am going to show you." + +Mrs. Ladue only smiled mysteriously; and when, at last, Fox stopped +his horse and said "There!" she was laughing quietly. He looked +puzzled. + +"The same," she said. "The very same." + +"Well," Fox replied slowly, "I admire his taste. It is worth looking +at." + +It was a very large house, looking out from beneath its canopy of elms +over a wide valley; a pleasant prospect of gentle hills and dales, +with the little river winding quietly below. + +"It is worth looking at," said Fox again. He looked at her, then. She +was not laughing, but there was a merry look in her eyes. "What amuses +you? I should rather like to know. Isn't my hat on straight?" + +She shook her head. "I'll tell you before long. But it is really +nothing." Truly it didn't need much to amuse her on that day. + +He looked at her again, then looked away. "The house looks as if it +might have been a hotel," he remarked; "a little hotel, with all the +comforts of home. It is very homelike. It seems to invite you." + +"Yes," she replied, "it does." + +"And the barn," he went on, "is not too near the house, but yet near +enough, and it is very well ordered and it has all the modern +improvements. All the modern improvements include a tiled milking-room +and, next to it, a tiled milk-room with all the most improved +equipment, and a wash-room for the milkers and a herd of about +twenty-five registered Guernseys. I know, for I have been over it." + +"That sounds very good. I know very little about such things." + +"I have had to know. It is a part of my business. That barn and that +outfit would be very convenient if the house were--for instance--a +private hospital. Now, wouldn't it?" + +She made no reply and he turned to her again. She was looking at him +in amazement, and her face expressed doubt and a dawning gladness. + +"Oh, Fox!" + +"Now, wouldn't it?" + +"Yes," she murmured, in a low voice. + +"And the house seems not unsuitable for such a purpose. I have not +been over the house." + +"Fox! Will you tell me what you mean?" + +He laughed out. "The old skinflint who lives there says he can't sell +it. He seemed very intelligent, too; intellect enough to name a price +if he wanted to. And I would not stick at the price if it were within +the bounds of reason." + +"I think," Mrs. Ladue remarked, "that I could tell you why your old +skinflint couldn't sell it." + +"Why?" Fox asked peremptorily. + +"When you have shown me all you have to show," she answered, the look +of quiet amusement again about her eyes and mouth, "I will tell you; +that is, if you tell me first what you mean." + +He continued looking for a few moments in silence. She bore his +scrutiny as calmly as she could. Then he turned, quickly, and drew the +reins tight. + +"Get up, you ancient scion of a livery stable." The horse started +reluctantly. "There is something else," he added, "just down the road +a bit." + +"I thought so," she said. "It is a square house, painted a cream +color, with a few elms around it, and quite a grove at a little +distance behind it." + +"It is. But you forgot the barn and the chicken-houses." + +She laughed joyously. "I didn't think of them." + +"And the well-sweep." + +"I'm afraid I didn't think of that, either." + +"I should really like to know how you knew," he observed, as if +wondering. "Perhaps it is not worth while going there. But I want to +see it again, if you don't." + +"Oh, I do. I am very much interested, and you know you are to tell me +what you are planning." + +"Yes," he replied. "I meant to tell you. That was what I brought you +for. But I thought you would be surprised and I hoped that you might +be pleased." + +"Trust me for that, Fox, if your plans are what I hope they are. If +they are, I shall be very happy." + +They stopped in the road before the square house that was painted +cream color. Fox gazed at it longingly. It seemed to be saying, "Come +in! Come in!" and reaching out arms to him. There was the old well at +one side, with its great sweep. The ground about the well was bare of +snow and there was a path from it to the kitchen door. Thin curls of +smoke were coming lazily from each of the great chimneys. + +He sighed, at last, and turned to Mrs. Ladue. "I should like to live +there," he said. + +"You would find it rather a hardship, I am afraid," she returned, +watching him closely, "depending upon that well, picturesque as it +is." + +He laughed. "Easy enough to lay pipes from the hotel, back there." He +nodded in the direction of the larger house, the one of the +twenty-five Guernseys and the model barn. "They have a large supply +and a power pump. Ask me something harder." + +"The heating," she ventured. "Fires--open fires--are very nice and +necessary. But they wouldn't be sufficient." + +He laughed again. "It is not impossible to put in a heating-system. +One might even run steam pipes along with the water pipes and heat +from their boilers. I press the button, they do the rest." + +"Well, I can't seem to think of any other objection. And there is a +very good view." + +"A very good view," he repeated. He was silent for a while. "I have +done very well in the past five or six years," he said then, "and the +wish that has been growing--my dearest wish, if you like--has been to +establish a sort of private hospital about here somewhere. It wouldn't +be a hospital, exactly; anyway, my patients might not like the word. +And I should hate to call it a sanitarium. Call it Sanderson's +Retreat." He smiled at the words. "That's it. We'll call it +Sanderson's Retreat." + +It would have warmed his heart if he could have seen her face; but he +was not looking. + +"I am very glad, Fox," she murmured. "That makes me very happy." + +"Sanderson's Retreat?" he asked, turning to her. "But I haven't got +it. Just as I thought I had found it I found that I couldn't get it." + +"Perhaps that old skinflint who lives there doesn't own it," she +suggested. + +"Of course I thought of that," he answered, with some impatience. "But +how am I to find out about it without exciting the cupidity of the +native farmers? Once aroused, it is a terrible thing. I might +advertise: 'Wanted, a place of not less than fifty acres, with large +house commanding a good view over a valley, a herd of about +twenty-five Guernseys, a barn with all the modern improvements, and a +power pump. Price no object.' Rather narrows it down a trifle." + +Mrs. Ladue almost chuckled. "I won't keep you in suspense," she said. +"Uncle John owned it when he brought me out here. He told me so. And +he owned this house, too." + +"Uncle John!" cried Fox. "He knew a thing or two, didn't he? I wish I +had found it while he was living. Now, I suppose I shall have to buy +it of Miss Patty; that is, if I can. Who is the executor of the will? +Do you know?" + +She shook her head. "I haven't heard anything about the will, yet. I +think it's likely to be Dick Torrington. Uncle John seemed to like +Dick very much and he thought very well of him." + +"I'll see Dick Torrington to-day. We may as well go back." He turned +the horse about; then stopped again, looking back at the cream-colored +house. He looked for a long time. "It's very pleasant," he said, at +last, sighing. "Those trees, now--those in the grove--do they strike +you as being suitable for a gynesaurus to climb? Do they?" he asked +softly. + +His eyes looked into hers for a moment. His eyes were very +gentle--oh, very gentle, indeed, and somewhat wistful; windows of the +soul. At that moment he was laying bare his heart to her. She knew it; +it was a thing she had never known him to do before. + +She put her hand to her heart; an involuntary movement. "Oh, Fox!" she +breathed. "Oh, Fox!" Then she spoke eagerly. "Will you--are you going +to--" + +He smiled at her, and his smile was full of gentleness and patience. +"I hope so," he answered. "In the fullness of time. It is a part of my +dearest wish. Yes, when the time is ripe, I mean to. Not yet. She is +not ready for it yet." + +"She is nearly twenty-one," Mrs Ladue said anxiously, "and beginning +to be restless under her teaching. Don't wait too long, Fox. Don't +wait too long." + +"I have your blessing, then? I have your best wishes for my success?" + +"You know you have," she murmured, a little catch in her voice. + +"I thought that I could count on them," he replied gratefully, "but I +thank you for making me certain of it." + +She seemed as if about to speak; but she said nothing, after all. Fox +smiled and took up the reins again. The drive back was a silent one. +Fox was busy with his own thoughts; and Mrs. Ladue, it is to be +supposed, was busy with hers. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Dick Torrington was out when Fox called at his office, early that +afternoon. They were expecting him at any moment. He had not come back +from lunch yet. He did not usually stay so long and wouldn't Doctor +Sanderson take a seat and wait a few minutes? Accordingly, Doctor +Sanderson took a seat and waited a few minutes. He waited a good many +minutes. He read the paper through; then paced slowly up and down the +waiting-room. Were they sure Mr. Torrington would come back? Oh, yes, +they thought so. They did not know what could be keeping him. So +Doctor Sanderson thought he would wait a few minutes longer. + +The truth was that it was Henrietta who was keeping Dick away from his +office and his waiting clients. As she was to go within a few days, +Dick thought the time propitious for taking her for a last sleigh +ride; it might happen to be the last and it might not. Henrietta, too, +thought the time propitious. I don't know what Fox would have thought, +if he had known it. Most likely he would have grinned and have said +nothing, keeping his thoughts to himself. He was an adept at keeping +his thoughts to himself. But there is reason to believe that he would +not have waited. Just as his patience was utterly exhausted and he was +going out, Dick came in. There was a rather shamefaced grin of +pleasure on his face which changed to a welcoming smile when he saw +Fox. It was a very welcoming smile; more welcoming than the occasion +seemed to call for. Fox wondered at it. But he was not to find out the +reason that day. + +They came to business at once. Dick was the executor, but he had not +notified the beneficiaries under the will yet. It was really a very +short time since Mr. Hazen's death. Fox, wondering what that had to do +with the matter, protested mildly that the only question with him was +whether he could buy certain properties of the estate. He would prefer +to deal with Dick rather than with Miss Patty. + +Dick laughed. "Oh," he said, "I forgot that you didn't know. Those +pieces of property that you are after--I know very well what they +are," he interrupted himself to say, "and I can guess what you want +them for--those pieces of property were left to Sally. I shall have to +refer you to her." + +Fox's amazement was comical. "Left to Sally!" he exclaimed. "Well! And +it never occurred to me." + +"It probably has never occurred to Sally either," Dick suggested. "She +has more than that. Her uncle John was very fond of her." + +"I am sure that it has not occurred to Sally. What will Miss Patty +think?" + +Dick shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "Nobody does. I don't +know just how she feels toward Sally. If it were Charlie, now,--but it +isn't. About these properties, you will have to see Sally. She isn't +at liberty to dispose of them yet, but if she agrees to, there will be +no difficulty. I shall not stand in the way of your doing anything you +want to do with them. It happens that the lease of them runs out in a +few months. I really don't believe that Miss Patty will contest the +will, even if she doesn't just like it. Mr. Hazen's word was the law, +you know." + +Fox was looking out of the window and, as he looked, his glance +chanced to fall upon Miss Patty herself, stepping along in a way which +she had fondly flattered herself was dainty. + +He smiled. "You never can tell about these nervous patients," he +observed. "They may do anything--or they may not. But I think I'd +better see Sally and break the news." + +He found the chance on the evening of that same day. Everett went +out, immediately after dinner, as was his habit, and Mrs. Morton left +them alone. Sally was reading. + +"Sally," said Fox, "I understand that you are an heiress." + +Sally put down her book suddenly and gave him a startled glance. "Oh," +she exclaimed, "I hope not! Who told you?" + +"Dick Torrington. He is the executor." + +"Oh, Fox!" she cried. She seemed dismayed. "And Dick knows. But Patty +will never forgive me. Can't I help it?" + +"No doubt," he replied, smiling, "but I hope you won't, for I want to +buy some of your property." + +She laughed joyously. "I'll give it to you, you mercenary man! At +last, Fox, I can get even with you--but only partly," she hastened to +add; "only partly. Please say that you'll let me give it to you." + +Fox was embarrassed. "Bless you, Sally!" he said. At that moment, he +was very near to heeding Mrs. Ladue's injunction not to wait too long. +He stopped in time. "Bless you, Sally! You have paid me. I don't need +money anyway." + +"Neither do I." + +"The time may come when you will. It is a handy thing to have," he +went on. "I promise to let you pay me some day," he added hastily, +seeing that she was about to insist, "in kind." + +Sally nodded with satisfaction. "I'll do it," she said, "in kind. That +usually means potatoes and corn and firewood, doesn't it." + +"Not this time, it doesn't. But I can't let you think of giving me +these places." + +"You can't help my thinking of giving them to you," she interrupted. + +"For you don't even know what they are," Fox continued. "I didn't mean +to tell you yet, but I have to." And he told her what he wanted to do; +but only a part. It is to be noted that he said nothing about +gynesauruses and coal-trees. + +When he had finished Sally sighed. "It's too bad that I can't give +them to you, Fox. I think it would be a very good way; an excellent +way." + +"Excellent?" he asked. + +"Yes, excellent," Sally answered, looking at him and smiling in her +amused way. "Why isn't it?" + +"Nonsense! It's absurd; preposterous. It's positively shocking. Sally, +I'm surprised at you." + +Sally shook her head. "No," she said obstinately, "it's an excellent +way to do. You can't say why it isn't. Why, just think, then I should +feel that I could come there when I am old or when I break down from +overwork. Teachers are apt to break down, I understand, and now, when +they do, there seems to be no course open to them but to hire a +hearse--if they've saved money enough. Think how much easier I should +feel in my mind if Sanderson's Retreat were open to me." And Sally +chuckled at the thought. + +"But Sanderson's Retreat would be open to you in any case," Fox +protested. "You would not have to hire a hearse. It is my business to +prevent such excursions. Have I ever failed you, Sally?" + +"Oh, Fox, never." There were tears in her eyes as she got up quickly +and almost ran to him. "Never, never, Fox. That is why, don't you see? +I want to do something for you, Fox. You have done so much for me--for +us." + +He was standing by the fire. As she came, he held out his hands and +she gave him both of hers. Ah! Doctor Sanderson, you are in danger of +forgetting your resolution; that resolution which you thought was so +wise. In truth, the words trembled on the tip of his tongue. But +Sally's "for us" brought him to his senses. + +"Oh, Sally, Sally!" he said ruefully. "You don't know. You don't +know." + +"Well," Sally replied impatiently, after she had waited in vain for +some moments for him to finish, "what don't I know? I don't know +everything. I am aware of that, and that is the first step to +knowledge." + +"You come near enough to it," he returned, as if speaking to himself. +He was looking down, as he spoke, into great gray eyes which, somehow, +were very soft and tender. He looked away. "Sometime you will know." + +"Everything?" asked Sally, smiling. + +"Everything that is worth knowing," he answered gently. "Yes, +everything that is worth knowing," he repeated, slowly. + +Sally pondered for a brief instant; then flushed a little, but so +little that you would scarcely have noticed it, especially if you had +been looking away from her, as Fox was at some pains to do. + +"We have not settled that question, Fox," she said. He still held her +hands, but he scarcely glanced at her. "Fox,"--giving him a gentle +shake,--"pay attention and look at me." He looked at her, trying not +to let his eyes tell tales. Very likely Sally would think they told of +no more than the brotherly affection which she had become used to, +from him. Very likely that was what she did think. She gave no sign +that she saw more than that, at any rate. "_Please_ let me give them +to you," she pleaded, eagerly. "I want to." + +He shook his head. "Oh, Sally, Sally!" he said again. "It is hard +enough to refuse you anything; but I can't let you do this, for your +own sake. What would people think?" + +"Oh, fiddle! What business is it of theirs? And how would they know +anything about it?" + +"I have no doubt there are some who would at once institute inquiries. +You probably know such people." + +Sally chuckled. "Letty Lambkin might. But what would it matter if they +did?" + +"I should hate to think that I was responsible for making you talked +about." + +"Then you won't take them, Fox? Not even if I get down on my knees?" +Again there were tears in her eyes. + +Fox shook his head. "I can't," he said gently. "I can't take them on +those terms." + +Sally sighed and smiled. "So I am repulsed, then. My gifts are +spurned." + +Fox was very uncomfortable. "But, Sally--" he began. + +She brightened suddenly. "I know!" she cried. "I'll lease them to you +for ninety-nine years. Isn't that what they do when they can't do +anything else? And you'll have to pay--oh, ever so much rent." + +He laughed. "All right. I guess that'll be as long as I shall have use +for them. But you'll have to charge me enough." + +"Oh, I'll charge you enough," she said nodding; "never fear. I'll +consult Dick and take his advice. _Then_ perhaps you'll be satisfied." + +"I'll be satisfied," he replied. "I'm very grateful, Sally." + +"Nonsense! You're not. You're only complacent because you think you've +had your own way, and I didn't mean that you should have it." She took +her hands away at last. "Here's Mrs. Morton," she said gently. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +What Patty really thought about the provisions of her father's will is +not recorded. Indeed, it is doubtful whether she had anything more +nearly approaching consecutive thought on the subject than a vague +resentment toward Sally and a querulous disposition to find fault with +her. For, with the lapse of years, Patty was becoming less and less +able to think rationally--to direct her thoughts--or to think +consecutively on any subject. She had never been conspicuous for her +ability in that direction. What she said was another matter. What +business had Sally to benefit by her father's will? A poor relation +whom she, Patty, had befriended, no more. It never occurred to her to +blame her father any more than it occurred to her to tell the whole +truth about that little matter of befriending. Patty thought that she +told the truth. She meant to. + +There was some excuse for Patty's disappointment. One does not easily +rest content with but little more than half a fortune when one has, +for years, had reason to expect the whole of it. It was a modest +fortune enough, but the fact that it turned out to be nearly twice +what Patty had counted upon, and that, consequently, she was left with +just about what she had expected, did not make her disappointment any +the lighter, but rather the reverse. And she did not stop to consider +that she would be relieved of what she was pleased to term the burden +of supporting the Ladues, and that she would have, at her own +disposal, more money than she had ever had. Not at all. Even when Dick +pointed out to her that very fact, it did not change her feeling. +Somehow, she did not know exactly how, Sally had cheated her out of +her birthright. She wouldn't call it stealing, but-- + +"No," Dick observed cheerfully. "I should think you had better not +call it that. It will be as well if you restrain your speech on the +subject." + +That was rather a strong remark for Dick Torrington to make, but he +felt strongly where Sally was concerned. He felt strongly where Patty +was concerned; but the feeling was different. + +It was not strange that, in the face of such feeling on Patty's part, +Sally should feel strongly, too. She did feel strongly. She was +genuinely distressed about it and would have been glad to give up any +benefits under the will, and she went to Dick and told him so. He +tried to dissuade her from taking such a course. There were other +aspects of such a case than the mere feeling of one of the heirs about +another. Why, wills would be practically upset generally if any one +heir, by making a sufficiently strong protest, could, to use Dick's +own words, freeze out the others, and it would be of little use for a +man to make a will if many were of Sally's mind. In this case, as +usually in such cases, the will expressed the testator's own +well-founded intention. Mr. Hazen had expected some such outburst from +Patty. Was that to prevent his wish, his will from being carried out? +He earnestly hoped not. All socialists to the contrary, +notwithstanding, he was of the opinion that any man, living or dead, +should be able to do as he liked with his own; that is, with certain +reasonable reservations, which would not apply in the case of her +Uncle John. + +"I suppose, Sally," he concluded, "that if he had given it to you +while he was living, you would have taken it, perhaps?" + +"No, indeed," Sally replied indignantly. "Of course I wouldn't. What +made you think that, Dick?" + +"To tell the truth," he said, "I didn't think it. Well, would it make +any difference in your feeling about it to know that he felt that Miss +Patty was not competent to take care of it?" + +She shook her head and sighed. "I don't see that it would; I can't +unravel the right and wrong of it. If you think that my taking it +would have pleased Uncle John, and if you tell me that Patty has as +much as she can wish--" + +"Oh, not that. But she has enough to enable her to live in luxury the +rest of her life." + +Sally laughed. "We have great possibilities when it comes to wishing, +haven't we? And you advise my taking it?" + +"Most certainly." + +"Then I will." + +"I wonder why," Dick asked, "you don't want it?" + +She hesitated for an instant. "I do," she said, then, laughing again. +"That's just the trouble. If I hadn't wanted it I might have been more +ready to take it." + +She met Captain Forsyth on the way home. She had just been thinking +that, after all, she could let Fox go ahead with his Retreat. She +would not have to back out of that bargain, for which she was glad. +And there were other things-- + +It was at this point in her reflections that Captain Forsyth bore down +and hailed her. She answered his hail with a smile and waited. + +"I was just going into Dick Torrington's office," he began, in a +gentle roar, "to get him to reason with you. I heard, Sally, that you +were thinking of refusing the legacy of your Uncle John." + +She nodded. "I was, but--" + +"Don't you do it," he shouted earnestly. He could have been heard for +a block, if there had been anybody to hear him. "Don't you do it, +Sally! You mustn't let Patty scare you out of taking what he meant +that you should have--what he wanted you to have. She'll have enough; +more than she can take care of. Patty couldn't take proper care of a +cat. And John Hazen was very fond of you, Sally. You do this much for +him." + +"I'm going to, Captain Forsyth," she answered gently. "I've just told +Dick so." + +"Well, I'm glad," he said, with satisfaction. "It's been on my mind +for some days, and I thought I'd better see what I could do about it. +Your Uncle John said a good deal about you, first and last. He'd be +pleased. When you want anything, come to me; though you're not likely +to be wanting anything unless it's advice. I've barrels of that ready. +Good-bye, Sally." + +Sally went home--if Mrs. Stump's could be called home--rather +depressed in spirits. In spite of what people considered her good +fortune, she continued in low spirits all through that spring and +summer. Patty, to be sure, was covertly hostile, but that was hardly +enough to account for it. Sally was aware of the unhealthy state of +her mind and thought about it more than was good for her. It is a bad +habit to get into; a very reprehensible habit, and she knew it, but +she couldn't help it. You never can help doing it when you most +shouldn't. It reminded her of the shiftless man's roof, which needed +shingling. + +Very likely she was only tired with her winter's teaching and with the +events which had been crowded into those few weeks. They were +important events for her and had been trying. She began to hesitate +and to have doubts and to wonder. It was not like Sally to have +doubts, and she who hesitates is lost. She said so to herself many +times, with a sad little smile which would almost have broken Fox's +heart if he had seen it, and would surely have precipitated an event +which ought to have been precipitated. + +But Fox was not there to see it and to help her in her time of doubt, +and to be precipitate and unwise. She found herself wondering whether +she had better keep on with her teaching, now that she did not have +to. There was less incentive to it than there had been. Was it worth +while? Was anything worth while, indeed? What had she to look forward +to after years of teaching, when her enthusiasm was spent? Was it +already spent? What was there in it but going over the same old round, +year after year? What was there at the end? If the children could be +carried on, year after year--if they were her own--and Sally blushed +faintly and stopped there. + +But she wondered whether Henrietta had been right. What Henrietta had +said so lightly, the night of the fire, had sunk deeper than Sally +knew or than Henrietta had intended. Sally was beginning to think that +Henrietta was right and that girls, down at the bottom of their +hearts, were looking for men. She didn't like to confess it to +herself. She shrank from the whole subject; but why shouldn't +they--the girls--provided it is only at the bottom of their hearts? +They did; some of them did, at any rate. It is doubtful whether Sally +probed as deep as the bottom of her heart. Perhaps she was afraid to. + +Yes, as I started out by saying, no doubt she was only tired,--beat +out, as Miss Lambkin would have said; and she was lonelier than she +had ever been. She missed Uncle John. It seemed to her that there was +nobody to whom she could turn. Probably Captain Forsyth had had some +such idea when he made his clumsy offer of advice. But Captain Forsyth +would not do. Sally would have been glad enough of somebody to turn +to. It was a peculiarly favorable time for Fox, if he had only known +it. It was a rather favorable time for anybody; for Jane Spencer, or +even for Everett Morton. For Everett had begun, as anybody could see +with half an eye, as Letty Lambkin put it briskly. Altogether Sally's +affairs had become a fit topic of conversation for people who bother +themselves about other people's business. + +Miss Lambkin did. She had tried to talk with Mrs. Sarjeant about the +matter, but Mrs. Sarjeant had promptly shut her up. Whereupon Miss +Lambkin, with her head in the air, had betaken herself to Mrs. Upjohn. + +Mrs. Upjohn did not shut her up. She wanted to hear what Letty had to +tell and she wished to contribute whatever she could, that Letty did +not know, to the fund of general information; without seeming to, of +course. + +"Well, Alicia," Letty began, as soon as she had got into the house and +before she had had time to remove her hat, "I thought I'd come and do +for you now, even if it is a week before the time I set. Mrs. +Sarjeant can wait awhile, I guess. She can't need me. She told me +yesterday that she didn't care to listen to gossip. As if I gossiped, +Alicia! Why, I was only saying that Sally Ladue and Everett seemed to +be pretty thick now, and I shouldn't wonder if they hit it off. And I +shouldn't, either, Mrs. Sarjeant or no Mrs. Sarjeant. Anybody can see +he's paying her attention and she's letting him." Miss Lambkin shut +her lips with a snap. "Now, isn't he?" + +Mrs. Upjohn did not answer her directly. She only laughed comfortably +and suggested that they go right up to the sewing-room. + +"Patty made you quite a visit, didn't she?" Letty began again, while +she hunted scissors and needles and a tape. "Did you have to send her +off to Miss Miller's?" + +Mrs. Upjohn shook her head. + +"That's a good thing. It wouldn't have been pleasant," Miss Lambkin +resumed. "I hear that she's feeling real bitter towards Sally and that +Sally means to live somewhere else, whether Patty repairs the house or +not, but Patty won't hear to it. I notice, though, that nothing's been +done to the house yet. I'm told that Patty's going right at it. She'd +better, if she wants to live there before next summer, for this is +September and the builders are awful deliberate. Now that Doctor +Sanderson doesn't let the grass grow under his feet. Did you know that +his new hospital's going to be ready before cold weather? And he +hasn't been here, himself, more 'n a day at a time. Where's that +little cutting-table, Alicia? In your room? I'll just run in and get +it. You sit still." + +Mrs. Upjohn did not like to trust Letty alone in her room, for she had +the eye of a hawk; but Letty was gone before she could prevent her. +She was back in a moment, and Mrs. Upjohn breathed more freely. + +"As I was saying," Miss Lambkin continued, "that Doctor Sanderson had +better be looking out if he wants Sally Ladue. Maybe he don't, but I +notice that Eugene Spencer's fluttering around her again and +Everett's doing more'n flutter. + +"It seems queer to think of Everett as anything but what he has been +for some years. He isn't much in favor with some of the older men. I +heard that Cap'n Forsyth said that he wouldn't trust him with a +slush-bucket. And that pup of a brother of Sally's is copying after +Everett as well as he can. He's going to college in a couple of weeks +and there's no telling what he'll be up to there. I'm glad I don't +have the running of him. Everett's no pattern to cut _my_ goods to." + +"No," agreed Mrs. Upjohn soberly. "I can't think what has come over +Sally. I never thought she would be dazzled, though I won't deny that +Everett can be attractive." + +"Come to that," snapped Miss Lambkin, "Everett's handsome and rich +and, as you say, he knows how to be attractive. Anyway, there's a +plenty that would be only too glad to have a chance at him. Now, if +you were of a suitable age, Alicia, you'd snap him up quick enough if +you had the chance, and you know it." + +Mrs. Upjohn only murmured an unintelligible protest, but her color +rose. She would have snapped him up, and she knew it. Letty Lambkin +was really getting to be unbearable. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Charlie Ladue was a bright boy and a handsome boy, and he had good +enough manners. His attempts at seeming bored and uninterested only +amused certain intelligent persons in Cambridge, to whom he had +introductions, and attracted them. He was very young and rather +distinguished looking and these were the hallmarks of youth; of youth +which wishes to be thought of an experience prehistoric; of youth +which dreads nothing else so much as to appear young. He would get +over these faults quickly; and these intelligent persons laughed +quietly to themselves and continued to ask him to their houses--for a +time. But the faults rather grew upon him than lessened, so that he +became a nuisance and seemed likely to become worse, and they quietly +dropped him, before he was half through his freshman year. + +His faults were his own, of course. Faults always are one's own when +all is said and done, and they usually come home to roost; but that +they had developed to such an extent was largely due to Patty's +indulgence and over-fondness. She was to blame, but not wholly. It is +hard to fix the blame, even supposing that it would help the matter to +fix it. When they came to Whitby, Sally was too young to oppose Miss +Patty, and for four years Charlie had no mother; much longer, indeed. +The circumstances may have been Charlie's undoing, but it is a little +difficult to see why the circumstances did not do the same for Sally, +and she was not undone yet. No, I am forced to the conclusion, that, +in Charlie's case, circumstances could not be held responsible for +anything more than hurrying things up a little. + +As I said, Charlie was very young. He had passed his finals with +flying colors in the preceding June, nearly two months before his +seventeenth birthday, and he was but just seventeen when he began his +college career. Whatever may be said, seventeen is too young for a boy +to enter college and to be given the large liberties which a boy--a +college "man"--has in any of our large colleges. Eighteen or nineteen +is a much safer age, especially for a boy like Charlie Ladue. The +faults which I have mentioned soon disgusted and repelled the most +desirable elements in college and left him with--not one of--the least +desirable. Even with them he was only tolerated, never liked, and they +got out of him what they could. With them there was no incentive to +study, which was a pity, for Charlie did very well with a surprisingly +small amount of work, and would have done exceedingly well with a +little more, but he needed compulsion in some form. As it was, he very +soon got to doing just enough to keep himself afloat. He could study +hard when he had to, and he did. + +Patty had got to work, at last, upon the repairs to her house. It was +October before she made up her mind and well into November before work +began; and builders are awful deliberate, as Miss Lambkin had +remarked. As the work went on, the time when the house would be ready +retreated gradually into the future. But Miss Patty consoled herself +with the thought that Charlie would not be able to help her occupy it +before the next summer anyway. Although she had insisted that Mrs. +Ladue and Sally should live there as soon as it was ready,--it was a +question of pride with Miss Patty, not a question of her wish in the +matter,--and although she was expecting them to live there, it was by +no means sure that Sally would consent to come. Miss Patty did not +trouble herself greatly about that. But the thought that Charlie might +not would have filled her with consternation. She was looking forward +to the Christmas recess, and to having Charlie with her for two weeks, +at least. + +But when the Christmas recess arrived and work was over, Charlie, +feeling much relieved, sat down to a quiet evening with four +congenial spirits who also felt much relieved and who wished to +celebrate their temporary freedom in the only way they knew. I was +wrong in calling it the only way. It was one of the few ways they knew +in which to celebrate anything. When Charlie rose from the table, +about midnight, he felt rather desperate, for he had lost heavily. He +could not afford to lose heavily. + +One of the congenial spirits saw the look upon his face and laughed. +"Don't you care, Ladue," he cried. "All is not lost. You needn't +commit suicide yet. We'll stake you. Haven't you got a dollar left?" + +Charlie forced a sickly smile, which disappeared the instant he ceased +to force it. He pulled out the contents of his pockets. "I've got," he +answered, counting soberly, "just fifty-four cents in cash. They'll +expect me home to-night--they expected me last night," he corrected +himself, "I can't go, for I haven't got the price of a ticket. And +I've given you fellows my IOU's," he went on, looking up with an +attempt to face it out,--a pitiful attempt,--"for--how much, Ned?" + +"Two hundred for mine," Ned replied, spreading Charlie's poor little +notes on the table. "Anybody else got 'em?" He looked around, but the +others shook their heads. "It seems to be up to me to lend you, +Ladue." Carelessly, he tossed a ten-dollar bill across the table. "Go +home on that and see if you can't work the house for three hundred or +so and take these up. Don't thank me." Charlie had taken the bill and +begun to speak. "I'm doing it for cash, not sentiment. What do you +suppose these IOU's are worth if you can't work somebody for the +money?" + +Charlie, reduced to silence, pocketed the bill. + +"I've a notion," Ned continued, "that I'll go to town and look in at +number seven. Luck's with me to-night. May do something there. Who +goes with me?" + +The others professed the intention of going to bed. + +"You know, don't you," Ned threw out as an inducement, "that some man +back in the nineties paid his way through college on number seven? +Made an average of three thousand a year." + +"What's that story?" Charlie asked. "I haven't heard it." + +Ned enlightened him. "It's nothing much," he said carelessly, "only +that some man--it may have been Jones or Smith--in the class of +ninety-something, used to go in to number seven regularly, two or +three times a week all through his four years here, and he made an +average of three thousand a year. Broke the bank twice." + +Charlie was wide-eyed with amazement. "Why," he began, "if he could do +that, I don't see why--" + +Ned laughed. "They have," he said. "Don't you run away with the idea +that number seven hasn't made a profit out of Davis or Jones or +whatever his name was. They advertise it all right. That story has +brought them in a great deal more than three thousand a year. But this +man had a system; a very simple one, and a very good one." + +"What was it?" Charlie asked. "Can you tell me?" + +"Certainly I can," Ned answered, smiling. "He had a cool head and he +knew when to stop. And there isn't one in three thousand that knows +when to stop, if they've got the bug." + +"I don't see," Charlie remarked loftily, "why anybody wouldn't know +when to stop." + +"Well, they don't, kid," Ned replied sharply. + +Charlie was silent for a while, digesting the information he had +acquired. Ned got up to go. + +"Will--will you take me, Ned?" Charlie asked hesitatingly. + +Ned looked him over scornfully. The idea did not appeal to him. "You +don't want to go, Ladue," he said pityingly. At the bottom of his +heart he did not wish to be responsible in the remotest degree for +Charlie's career. It did not need a seer to guess at Charlie's +weakness. "Number seven is no place for you and I'd advise you to keep +out of it. It's a regular game, there; a man's game. They'd skin you +alive without a quiver. They won't take any of your pieces of paper +and they won't give you back any ten dollars, either. I wouldn't +advise you to go there, kid." + +That "kid" settled it, if there was anything needed to settle what may +have been ordained from his birth. At any rate, it was ordained that +he should not overcome the inclination to that particular sin of his +father without a struggle, and if there was one special thing which +Charlie was not fitted to do it was to struggle in such a cause. He +flushed. + +"Only to look on," he pleaded. "It was just to look on that I wanted +to go. I didn't mean to play, of course." + +"No, of course not. They never do," Ned retorted cynically. Then he +considered briefly, looking at Charlie the while with a certain +disgust. Having given him advice which was certainly good, he had no +further responsibility in the matter. "All right," he said. "If you're +bound to go, I can get you by the nigger at the door, although he'd +probably let you in anyway. You're a very promising subject." + +So it happened that Patty waited in vain for Charlie. For a day she +thought only that he must have been delayed--he was--and that, +perhaps, he was staying in Cambridge to finish something in connection +with his studies. She did not get so far as to try to imagine what it +was, but she wondered and felt some resentment against the college +authorities for keeping such a good boy as Charlie. On the second day +she began to wonder if he could have gone to Mrs. Stump's to see his +mother. She gave that question mature consideration and decided that +he had. On the third day she was anxious about him and would have +liked to go to Mrs. Ladue or to Sally and find out, but she did not +like to do that. And on the morning of the next day Sally saved her +the trouble by coming to ask about him. + +Patty was too much frightened to remember her grievance against Sally. +"Why, Sally," she said in a voice that trembled and with her hand on +her heart, which had seemed to stop its beating for a moment, "I +thought he was with you." + +Sally shook her head. "We thought he must be here." + +"He hasn't been here," wailed poor Patty. "What can be keeping him? +Oh, do you suppose anything has happened to him?" + +Sally's lip curled almost imperceptibly and the look in her eyes was +hard. + +"I don't know, Patty, any more than you do." + +"But I don't know anything," Patty cried. Sally gave a little laugh in +spite of herself. "What shall we do? Oh, what shall we do, Sally?" + +Sally thought for an instant, and then she turned to Patty. "I will +take the noon train up." + +"Oh, Sally!" It was a cry of relief. "Couldn't you telegraph first? +And couldn't you ask Doctor Beatty to go, instead, or Doctor +Sanderson?" + +"I could ask Doctor Beatty to go, but I don't intend to," she said +finally, "and Fox is not here. His hospital isn't ready yet, you know. +They couldn't get him any more easily than I can. And as to +telegraphing, I don't think that would help." + +"Well," said Patty doubtfully, "I don't--do you think you ought to go +alone?" + +Sally turned and looked at her. "Why not?" + +Before the gray eyes Patty's eyes fell. "I--I don't know, exactly. But +it hardly seems quite--quite proper for a girl to go alone to--to a +college room." + +Sally chuckled. "I must risk it," she said. "I think I can. And if +Charlie is in any trouble I'll do my best to get him out of it." + +"Oh, Sally!" It was not a cry of relief. + +Sally paid no attention to that cry of Patty's. "I must go back to get +ready," she said. "I haven't any too much time." + +But Sally did not take the noon train up. Just as she was leaving Mrs. +Stump's, she met Charlie coming in. He looked rather seedy and quite +forlorn. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +When Charlie went back, he was feeling rather elated, for he had two +hundred and fifty dollars in his pocket. That was all the cash Patty +could raise without making an appeal to Dick Torrington or making some +other arrangement which would have betrayed her, and that would not +have done. It would not have done at all. Sally might have heard of +it, and Patty, to tell the truth, was afraid of Sally. Sally was +so--so decided, you know, and so downright, and she could be so hard +about anything that concerned Charlie. Sally was not fair to +Charlie--the dear boy! What if he was a little extravagant? All young +men must have their fling. So Patty, with but the vaguest ideas of +what the fling was,--she could think only of fireworks and yelling, +although three hundred dollars will buy a great deal of fireworks and +yelling is cheap,--Patty, I say, feeling very low in pocket and in +spirits, bade Charlie an affectionate farewell and returned to Miss +Miller's. She spent the afternoon in casting up her accounts and in +biting the end of her pencil; occupations from which she derived but +little satisfaction. She could not seem to make the accounts come out +right and the end of a pencil, even the best, becomes a little cloying +to the taste in time. + +Charlie's parting injunction had been really unnecessary. "Don't tell +Sally, will you, Patty?" he had said in a voice from which he tried in +vain to keep the note of exultation. There was little danger of that. +Patty was as anxious as Charlie was to keep all knowledge of the +transaction from Sally. And Patty sighed and cast up her accounts all +over again. There was no escape from it. She must look the matter in +the face. The absence of that two hundred and fifty would make a great +difference to her; it would leave her absolutely without ready money +for more than a month, or--or, perhaps,--and she stared out of the +window with unseeing eyes--she could manage to borrow--or ask Miss +Miller to trust her--or somebody--But that would not make up half and +everybody would know about it; and she sighed again and put down the +remains of the pencil with its chewed end and put the paper into her +waste-basket. She had given it up. She would trust to luck. She never +was any good at arithmetic anyway. + +What specious arguments Charlie had used to persuade her I do not +know. It does not matter and she probably did not give them much +attention. Charlie wanted the money. That was the point with her as it +was the point with him. What were arguments and explanations? Mere +words. But she noted that his watch was gone. Patty, herself, had +given it to him only the year before. She could not help asking about +that, in a somewhat hesitating and apologetic way. + +Charlie set her doubts at rest at once. "Oh, that?" he said +carelessly. "It needed cleaning and I left it." He gave the same +answer to Sally when she asked about it. + +"Huh!" was Sally's only answer, as she turned away. + +Charlie had not said anything in reply, although that monosyllable of +Sally's, which expressed much, had made him angry enough to say almost +anything, if only he knew what to say. He didn't; and the very fact +that he didn't made him angrier than ever. He stammered and stuttered +and finished by clearing his throat, at which performance Sally smiled +heartlessly. + +Charlie had been badly shaken and had not had time to recover. But +neither Sally nor Patty had an idea of what Charlie had been through. +It was just as well that they had not; just as well for Charlie's +comfort and for Patty's. Sally had more imagination than Patty had and +she had had more experience. She could picture to herself any number +of scrapes that Charlie might have got himself into and they did not +consist solely of fireworks and yelling. They were much nearer the +truth than that vague image of Patty's, and if Sally did not hit upon +the exact situation it is to be remembered that she did not know about +the money which Charlie had succeeded in extracting from Patty. + +But Sally's imaginings were bad enough. They were sufficient to +account for her heavy heart, although they were not necessary to +account for it. Sally usually had a heavy heart now, which was a great +pity and not necessary either. What had come over her? It troubled her +mother to see her so depressed. She may have attributed it to the +wrong cause or she may not. Mothers are very apt to be right about +such matters. Her anxious eyes followed Sally about. Finally she could +not refrain from speaking. + +"Sally, dear," she asked, "what is the matter?" + +Sally smiled a pitiful little smile. "Why, I don't know, mother. Is +anything the matter?" + +"Something must be. A girl like you doesn't get so low-spirited for +nothing. It has been going on for nearly a year now. What is it, +Sally? Can't you tell me, dear?" + +"I wish I could, mother. I wish I knew. If I knew, I would tell you. I +don't. I only know that nothing seems to be worth while and that I +can't care about anything. A pity, isn't it?" And Sally smiled again. + +"Sally, don't! If you smile like that again you will make me cry." + +"I won't make you cry, mother. It is no trouble for me to keep from +smiling." + +"Are you--aren't you well, Sally?" + +Sally stretched her arms above her head. She was getting to be rather +a magnificent woman. "I can't raise a single symptom," she said. "I'm +absolutely well, I think. You might get Doctor Beatty to prod me and +see if he can find anything wrong." + +"I would rather have Fox." + +Sally flushed very faintly. "Not Fox, mother. I didn't mean it, +really. I'm sure there is nothing the matter with my health. I could +give you a catalogue: appetite good--fairly good, I sleep well, I--I +can't think of anything else." + +"Mind?" her mother asked, smiling. + +"A blank," said Sally promptly, with a hint of her old brightness. "My +mind is an absolute blank. So there you are where you started." + +"Is it your teaching, dear? Are you too tired?" + +"Do I look as if I ought to be tired?" Sally returned scornfully. She +did not look so, certainly. She was taller than her mother and +long-limbed and lean, and she looked fit to run races or climb trees +or to do anything else that required suppleness and quickness and to +do it exceedingly well. "I ought to be ashamed of myself and I am, but +I feel as if I could murder those children and do it cheerfully; +without a single pang. It makes me wonder whether I am fitted to +teach, after all." + +"Oh, Sally!" + +Sally made no reply, but sat down on the bed and gazed out of the +window at nothing in particular. To be sure, she could not have seen +anything worth while: only the side of the next house, not fifty feet +away, and the window of a bedroom. She could have seen into the room, +if she had been at all curious, and have seen the chambermaid moving +about there. + +Mrs. Ladue looked at her daughter sitting there so apathetically. She +looked long and her eyes grew more anxious than ever. Sally did not +seem to be aware of the scrutiny. + +"Sally," she began hesitatingly. + +Sally turned her head. "Well?" + +"I have heard some rumors, Sally," Mrs. Ladue went on, hesitating more +than ever, "about--about Everett. I didn't believe there was any truth +in them and I have said so. I was right, wasn't I? There isn't +anything, is there?" + +"What sort of thing?" Sally did not seem to care. "What were the +rumors, mother?" + +"Why," said her mother, with a little laugh of embarrassment, "they +were most absurd; that Everett was paying you marked attention and +that you were encouraging him." + +"No, that is not so. I have not encouraged him." + +Her answer seemed to excite Mrs. Ladue. "Well, is it true that he +is--that he has been paying you attention for a long time?" + +"I have seen him more or less, but it is nothing that I have been +trying to conceal from you. What does it matter?" + +"It matters very much, dear; oh, very much." Mrs. Ladue was silent for +a moment. "Then I gather," she resumed in a low voice, "that you have +not discouraged his attentions?" + +"No," Sally replied listlessly, "I have not discouraged them. Assuming +that they are anything more than accident, I--what do I care? It makes +no difference to me." + +"Oh, Sally!" Tears came into Mrs. Ladue's eyes. "You must know better +than any one else whether he means anything or not; what his +intentions are." + +"He may not have any intentions," Sally answered. "I don't know what +he means--but that is not true; not strictly. I know what he says, but +not what he thinks. I don't believe there is anybody who knows what +Everett thinks." And she gave a little laugh which was almost worse +than one of her smiles. "His intentions, assuming that he has any, are +well enough." + +The situation seemed to be worse than Mrs. Ladue had imagined in her +most doubtful moments. "But, Sally," she said anxiously, "is +there--oh, I hate to ask you, but I must. Is there any kind of an +understanding between you and Everett?" + +"Not on my part, mother," Sally replied rather wearily. "Now let's +talk about something else." + +"Be patient with my questions just a little longer," said her mother +gently. "I can't drop the subject there. Has--do you think Everett has +any right to understand anything that you don't? Have you let him +understand anything?" + +Sally did not answer for what seemed to her mother a long time. "I +don't know," she answered at last, "what he thinks. To be perfectly +plain, Everett has not asked me to marry him, but he may feel sure +what my answer would be if he did decide to. I don't know. He is a +very sure kind of a person, and he has reason to be. That is the +extent of the understanding, as you call it." + +"But, surely, you know what your answer would be," remonstrated Mrs. +Ladue in a low voice. "It isn't right, Sally, to let him think one +thing when you mean to do the opposite. I hope," she added, struck by +a fresh doubt--a most uncomfortable doubt, "that you do mean to do the +opposite. There can be no question about that, can there?" + +"I don't know," Sally replied slowly, "what I should do. I've thought +about it and I don't know." + +Mrs. Ladue's hand went up to her heart involuntarily, and she made no +reply for some time. "Drifting?" she asked at last. + +Sally looked toward her mother and smiled. "Drifting, I suppose. It's +much the easiest." + +Mrs. Ladue's hand was still at her heart, which was beating somewhat +tumultuously. + +"Don't, Sally! Don't, I beg of you. Your whole life's happiness +depends upon it. Remember your father. Everett's principles are no +better than his, I feel sure. You have been so--so sturdy, Sally. +Don't spoil your life now. You will find your happiness." She was on +the verge of telling her, but she checked herself in time. That was +Fox's business. He might be right, after all. "This mood of yours will +pass, and then you would wear your life out in regrets. Say that you +won't do anything rash, Sally." + +"Don't worry, mother. It really doesn't matter, but I won't do +anything rash. There!" She laughed and kissed her mother. "I hope that +satisfies you. You were getting quite excited." + +Mrs. Ladue had been rather excited, as Sally said. Now she was crying +softly. + +"You don't know what this means to me, Sally, and I can't tell you. I +wish--oh, I wish that I had your chance! You may be sure that I +wouldn't throw it away. You may be sure I wouldn't." She wiped her +eyes and smiled up at Sally. "There! Now I am all right and very much +ashamed of myself. Run along out, dear girl. You don't get enough of +out-of-doors, Sally." + +So Sally went out. She meant to make the most of what was left of the +short winter afternoon. She hesitated for a moment at the foot of the +steps. "It's Fisherman's Cove," she said then quite cheerfully. "And I +don't care when it gets dark or anything." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Fisherman's Cove was a long way from Mrs. Stump's boarding-house, but +that fact gave Sally no concern. And Fisherman's Cove was much changed +from the Cove that Uncle John used to tell her about, where he had +been used to go to see the men haul the seines. Its waters had been +fouled by the outpourings of a sewer, and the fish had deserted them +years before; but that would not make the ice any the less attractive +with a young moon shining upon it. + +And the way to Fisherman's Cove was not the way that Uncle John had +been in the habit of taking. His way, fifty years before, had led him +out upon a quiet country road until he came to a little lane that led +down, between high growths of bushes, to a little farmhouse. The +farmhouse had overlooked the Cove. Sally could not go through the +little lane to the little old farmhouse, because the farmhouse was not +there now, and because there was a horrible fence of new boards right +across the lane. They had been building mills on the shores of +Fisherman's Cove for thirty years; and the ice ponds on which the boys +and girls of thirty years before used to skate--Miss Patty had skated +there, often--were no longer ice ponds, but thriving mill villages, +with their long rows of brilliantly lighted windows and their neat +tenements, the later ones of three stories, each story having its neat +clothes-porch. If you don't know what a clothes-porch is, just go down +there and see for yourself. And these neat tenements of three stories +each sheltered I don't know how many families of Portuguese +mill-workers, who may have been neat, but who probably were not. +Thriving! Ugh! as Miss Patty invariably said, turning her head away. +She did not have to go that way often, but when she did have to she +preferred to shut her eyes until her horse had taken her past it all. + +Besides, Mrs. Stump's was not on Apple Tree Street, but in a much less +fashionable neighborhood; one which had been fashionable some seventy +or eighty years before. As fashion left that street and moved upon the +ridge, the fine old houses--for they were fine old houses, even +there--gradually fell in their estate. The way from Mrs. Stump's to +Fisherman's Cove did not lie by that thriving mill village which has +been mentioned, but by other thriving mill villages, with their +tenements which, being older, were presumably not so neat. There was +little to choose between the ways. Either was disagreeable enough, +especially at any time when the hands were in the street, and no girl +would have chosen such a time to walk upon that road. Even Sally would +have avoided it; but the mill-hands were now shut up in their mills +and working merrily or otherwise, and she did not give the matter a +thought. + +As she started upon her road, a man who had been leaning negligently +upon a post at the next corner, bestirred himself, unleaned, and came +toward her. Sally glanced up at him and stopped. "Oh, dear!" she said, +in a voice of comical dismay. "Oh, dear! And I promised mother that I +wouldn't do anything rash." + +The man continued to come toward her. He had a leisurely air of +certainty which ordinarily would have antagonized Sally at once. + +"Well, Sally?" he said questioningly, when he was near enough to be +heard without raising his voice. + +"Well, Everett," Sally returned, with some sharpness. "I should really +like to know what you were doing on that corner." + +"Doing?" he asked in surprise. "Why, nothing at all. I was only +waiting for you." + +"And why," she said, with more sharpness than before, "if you were +waiting for me, didn't you come to the house and wait there?" + +"I don't like to go to boarding-houses and wait," he replied, smiling. +"I have a prejudice against boarding-houses, although I have no doubt +that Mrs. Stump's is an excellent house. And my going there might +excite some comment." + +"Is it your idea," Sally retorted quickly, "that your waiting on the +next corner will not excite comment? There has been too much comment +already." + +"Well, Sally, what if there has been a certain amount of it? We don't +care, do we?" + +"I am not sure that we don't," she answered slowly, looking him in the +face thoughtfully. "I am not sure. In fact, I think we do." + +He flushed a little under her direct gaze. That subject was not to be +pursued. + +"Where are you going?" he asked. + +"I am going for a walk," she replied; "for a long walk. And I--" + +"Then you'd better ride," he said quickly, interrupting her. "I can +get Sawny in five minutes. Where will you be?" + +"No," Sally spoke earnestly. "Don't. I'd rather not. I prefer to walk. +And, Everett, I'd rather you wouldn't go with me. I want to take this +walk alone." + +Everett was surprised. It was rather a shock to find that he wasn't +wanted. + +"Oh," he said coldly. "Very well. I hope you will have a most pleasant +walk to--wherever you are going." + +Sally's heart was too tender. Everett seemed hurt, and she didn't like +to feel that she had hurt him. "I am going to Fisherman's Cove," she +said. + +"Fisherman's Cove! But you know that will take you through the heart +of milltown." + +"Yes, but the mills aren't out. I'll come back early." + +"It's not a way for a girl to choose." + +Sally smiled. "I'll be all right, I think." + +Everett shrugged his shoulders. "You'd much better let me drive you. +We can go to the Cove as well as elsewhere." + +Sally shook her head gently. + +"As you please," he said; and he shrugged again and turned away. + +Sally looked after him for a moment. "Oh, dear," she sighed. "Now I've +offended him--mortally, I suppose. But it doesn't matter. I was +forgetting. Nothing really matters." It didn't matter. It might be +better if she had offended him mortally if he would stay offended. + +So Sally put aside all thoughts of Everett and resumed her walk. She +had no great difficulty in putting aside thoughts of him. I do not +know what her thoughts were, as she walked on towards the Cove, but it +is safe to say that they were not of Everett. She must have been +thinking pretty deeply of something, for she took her way +unconsciously and without seeing where she was going; and she passed +the few people that she met without seeing them or being conscious +that they were there. Walking so, like one asleep, she came to the end +of that street, where it runs into River Street. + +River Street is a dirty street. Its best friends could not say more +for it. The reason is not far to seek; and a part of that reason is +that, for many years--say sixty years or even seventy--it has served +for a residence street for the same class of people. Residence street +is perhaps rather a high-sounding name for it. You may use any other +words that you like better, for River Street, from the point where +Sally entered it to within a half-dozen blocks of the centre of the +town, was, for long years, the one place where certain people lived. +It was so wholly given up to those people that it was known as Fayal; +and Fayal had a reputation which was not altogether savory. The +inhabitants of this local Fayal were, in the old days, sailors, and +sailors of the roughest sort; with crimps and sharks and women of +several kinds, and an occasional overlord. There were no mills to +speak of, twenty-five years ago, at this end of the town. When the +mills began to come, the inhabitants of Fayal--at least, some of +them--sent for their friends from the islands, and the friends, in +turn, sent for their families; the old sailor class, the rough men +with gold hoops in their ears, gradually died off and the reputation +of River Street improved. Like the street itself, it is not yet +altogether savory. + +At River Street, Sally began to find herself among the tenements, for +Fayal had lain in the other direction and the old River Street had +faded out, right here, into the remains of a country road which ended +at the beach, not half a mile beyond. There was no country road now, +and the less said about this particular part of the beach the better. + +Sally paused for an instant and looked about her. From this point on, +River Street was a continuous row of tenements, very neat and tidy +tenements, no doubt, at a distance. There was no gleam in that same +distance which betokened the Cove, only the neat and tidy tenements, +horribly neat and tidy. Sally felt a sinking of the heart or somewhere +about that region, although I believe it is not the heart that sinks. + +"Oh, dear!" she exclaimed, under her breath. "I had forgotten that it +was so forlorn. I will hurry through it. I wish I could shut my eyes, +as Patty does, but I suppose I shall need to see." + +So she hurried along, past the rows of tenements, past the few women +that she met and past the small children playing in the street. The +women paid no attention to her, being intent upon their own business +and having enough of it to keep them well occupied. She passed a mill, +with its throbbing of looms and its clattering and clicking of +spindles. The long rows of windows were just beginning to be lighted +as she passed. She went on, past more tenements, less closely set, and +past another mill. The windows of this second mill were already +lighted, and the same throbbing and clattering came faintly to her +ears. In front of this mill was a broad street, almost a square, and +beyond the street an open lot,--I had almost said a field, but it +lacked one essential to being a field,--evidently used by the +population, old and young, as a playground. This lot was surrounded by +the remains of an old stone wall, a relic of the better days, when it +had been a field. Now, there was no vestige of vegetation; no living +thing. A pig would have died of starvation in that lot. Both street +and lot were covered with frozen mud and dirty snow, and a film of +repulsive dirt, that would not wash off, coated the old stones of the +wall. The whole place filled Sally with disgust. If these mills had to +be somewhere, why must they put them here? Why must they? Weren't +there other places, without robbing-- + +Sally broke off. She had been almost talking aloud to herself in +fierce rebellion. Mills! Mills! Nothing but mills! They had taken up +every foot of the shore in Whitby except what was occupied by the +wharves. What were the people thinking of, that they suffered it? They +had seen foot after foot, mile after mile, of shore given to the +mills, and not a single feeble voice had been raised to prevent. They +had seen the mills stretch forth surreptitious, grasping hands and +take unto themselves pieces of their beautiful old shore road, a +quarter of a mile at a time. That road had been unequaled for beauty, +thirty years before. Sally had heard Patty speak of it often, mourning +its loss. She, herself, had seen great stretches of that shore taken +by the mills within the past ten years, and she had not known enough +to speak or even to care. The people were mill-mad--or sleeping. +Well--and Sally sighed--a haughty spirit before destruction; just +before it, she hoped. A thousand times rather the few hardened +sailor-men in their place than that horde everywhere. + +It is to be feared that Sally was getting excited; and it is to be +feared that she was not truly democratic. Well, she was not and she +never pretended to be. What of it? She never pretended to be what she +was not. And as she thought these thoughts, she came out from behind +the third mill and gave a little gasp of delight. There lay +Fisherman's Cove, its frozen surface saffron and blue and crimson; and +the clouds above golden and saffron and crimson, with lavender and +purple in the shadows. The sun had just gone down behind another mill +on the opposite shore. Sally stumbled on--she didn't dare take her +eyes off that--but she stumbled on, as fast as she could, past the few +scattered tenements which lay between her and the open road, and she +sat down on a great stone that was part of the old sea-wall. For at +this point the road ran close to the waters of the Cove, and the +beach, with its load of broken ice, was at her feet. And she sighed +again and sat there, watching, and a great peace fell upon her spirit +and she was content. + +Sally gazed, first at the sky and then at the ice of the Cove; and the +golden lights upon the clouds changed to saffron and the saffron to +crimson and the purple deepened. In the ice, the green which had +lingered in places changed to blue and the blue to indigo and the +saffron and crimson darkened and were gone. Ah! This was worth while. +Was anything else worth while? What did she care, sitting there, for +schools or mills or anything, indeed, but sitting there and gazing? +She half turned and looked out into the bay where sky and water meet. +She could not tell which was water and which was sky, for both had +become a dull slate-blue. She looked again at the Cove. The color had +gone, but there was a faint silvery light from a young moon which hung +above the mill on the opposite shore. And from the windows of the mill +shone other lights. These mills were rather picturesque at night and +at a distance; they were rather pretty--of a kind. Sally did not care +for that kind. The greater the distance, the more picturesque they +were. Sally laughed to herself at the thought. Her laugh was gay +enough and it would have done her mother's heart good to hear it. She +was content; so content that she took no heed of the time, but she sat +there until the young moon had sunk, in its turn, almost to the mill, +and she roused herself and found that she was cold, which was not +strange. And it was too late for a girl to be going past the mills; +which was not strange either. If she was going, she had better be +about it. So she got up from the great stone, took a last long look at +the fast-darkening sky, shivered and started back, at a good pace, +along the road. + +She passed the last mill and, as she came to the corner of the fence, +she heard the roar of many feet coming out. They burst through the +doorway and she heard them pattering on the frozen mud behind her. But +it was dark and she was well ahead. + +At the second mill, the one of the broad square and the open lot, she +saw the crowd of mill-hands pouring out of the gate as she approached. +The crowd swelled and overflowed the sidewalk and then the street and +poured over the wall into the lot, slowly, like some huge stream of +molasses. As Sally continued on her way, she met this human stream +coming toward her; but it divided before her and closed behind her, +letting her through slowly. They are a peaceable, law-abiding set, for +the most part, but the mill lays its heavy hand upon them. The older +ones among them went stolidly to their kennels; but a few of the +mill-girls looked after Sally and made quite audible remarks about her +and giggled and laughed and nudged the men. And the men--the young +men--looked back at her and thought--but I don't know what they +thought. I only know that two of them, of mixed race, turned and +followed on after her. + +Sally was not aware that she was being followed, but many of the +mill-girls were, and the giggling and the laughter grew, until Sally +turned to see the cause. Having seen, she did not change her pace, but +pursued her way steadily without again looking back or seeming to know +of her two followers. The crowd ahead, going north, and the crowd +behind her, going south, were well separated by this time, and there +was a wide space between them. In this space were only Sally and the +two men, now close behind her, and a few stragglers. In this way they +went on for some distance, while the crowd ahead gradually melted away +into the tenements on either side; and they were within a few blocks +of the corner where Sally would turn off of River Street. The street +was not well lighted and it was deserted. + +The men came up, one on either side of Sally, and one of them said +something to her, too vile to be recorded. Sally kept her eyes +straight ahead and she thought rapidly. She was not exactly +frightened, but she was thinking what she had better do. It would do +little good to scream. The outcome of such a course was doubtful and, +besides, Sally was not the kind of a girl who screams easily or at +all. She meditated fighting. She could have put up a good fight; but +there were two of the men and they would have been pleased with a +fight, two men against one girl. What else was there for her to do? +She could run, and she could run well; so well that there was an even +chance, perhaps, that she could run faster and last longer than those +mill-trained men. Eight or ten years of the mill do not help a man's +lungs much or his morals. The dust, you know,--it seems to get into +their morals as well as into their lungs. If only she didn't have +skirts to bother her; but her skirt was neither tight nor very long. + +The man repeated his vile speech; and Sally darted away, gathering her +skirts as she ran. + +The men had been taken by surprise, but they put out after her as fast +as they could, laughing. This was sport; and although laughter is not +recommended for runners, they managed to gain a little at first. After +that first burst, they ceased to gain, but they held their own, and +the chase sped merrily along River Street, a scant five yards +separating the hunters from their quarry. Sally reached her corner and +turned off of River Street, passing under the light of a street lamp +as she made the turn. Coming down that street was a man. Sally did not +see very well, for he was not in the full light and, besides, her eyes +were full of tears because of her running. But the man gave a start +and an exclamation and he began to run and he ran into those men like +a locomotive, and he swung at one of them and hit him and knocked him +into the middle of the street, so that he landed on the back of his +neck in the roadway and lay limp and still. The other would have run +away, but the man caught him around the neck with his left hand and +cast him as far as his fellow, rolling over and over. + +"Damn you!" he cried low. "No, you don't. Damn you!" + +Doubtless he was forgiven that cry, even as Sally forgave it. She had +stopped and was leaning against a fence. When she saw the men go into +the street, one after the other, she gave a quick chuckle of delight. +She may have been a little hysterical. It would not have been strange. + +The second man who had been so summarily cast into the road was rising +slowly, muttering and half sobbing. The first man continued to lie +limp and still, and the man who had cast him there advanced slowly +toward him; upon which that other ceased beating the dust from his +clothes and edged away, muttering more loudly threats and +vituperations. The man continued to advance, but he raised his head +into the full light from the street lamp and he laughed shortly. + +"You'd better be off," he said. "Get out, and hurry about it." + +Sally saw his face well enough in the dim light and she knew the +voice. She had not really needed to recognize either, for she knew +well enough, in her heart, who it was that had come to her aid in the +nick of time. She chuckled again with delight, then drew a shivering +breath and gave a sob. There was no doubt about it, Sally was +hysterical. She knew that she was and she stifled the sob in her +throat. She despised hysterics. And she laughed a little because she +couldn't help it, and she went to him. + +He was kneeling in the road and he had the man's head upon one knee +and was feeling him gently. He raised his head as she came near. + +"I can't tell whether I have hurt him or not. It's awkward. We can't +leave him lying here in the street, although he deserves no better +treatment. I wish I had a horse here. You don't happen to know of one, +do you, Sally?" + +"N--no," she answered slowly, "not near here. I suppose I could get +Sawny, if you would wait." + +Fox laughed. "I don't want to ask Everett for Sawny." + +"Neither do I." The sound of a horse's hoofs came to them faintly. +"There's one now. I'll run to the corner and stop him." And, before +Fox could make any reply, she was off, running. + +The sound of the horse's hoofs stopped and presently came on, down the +street. + +"Hello!" cried a voice. "Is that Doctor Sanderson? What can I do?" + +"It's Eugene Spencer, Fox," remarked Sally, getting out. "Wasn't that +luck?" + +"Yes," said Jane, "wasn't it? Shall I take Sally home?" + +Fox and Sally both preferred that he should take the man. + +"I hate to ask you to take him out to my hospital," said Fox +apologetically, "but I don't know of anything better. I'll telephone +them before you can get there, and I'll be out within an hour. I don't +think he's seriously hurt." + +So they bundled the man in, and Jane drove off, rather crestfallen. +For his part, he thought that he ought to take Sally home first, at +least. The man still lurking in the shadows hurled vile epithets and +obscenities and ran after Jane. + +Fox laughed a little, nervously. "Hope he has a pleasant chase. He'll +hardly catch Spencer." Eugene was already at the corner. "My first +patient, Sally, although the Retreat is not open yet. This man is not +the kind of patient I shall hope to have, but it seemed better to send +him there and avoid publicity. We can take good care of him. Hello!" + +There was some kind of an uproar just around the corner. It lasted +only a moment and then Eugene came driving back, alone. + +"That man of yours," he said, pulling up short, "recovered very +suddenly, rolled out, and the pair of them ran down the street like +scared rabbits. I didn't chase them, for I thought that you would +probably be glad enough to get rid of him." + +"I am," Fox replied, with evident relief. "He can't be much hurt. I'm +much obliged to you, Spencer." + +"Shan't I take Sally home? Or there's room for both of you, if you +don't mind a little crowding." + +"We will walk home, thank you, Jane," said Sally, with the finality he +had come to expect. "I haven't seen Fox for a long time and I have a +lot to say to him." + +So Eugene, muttering something under his breath, made a very short +turn, in which process he very nearly tipped over, and gave his horse +a cut with the whip. The animal, which was not expecting this and did +not deserve it, gave a bound and they were gone. + +Sally chuckled. "Display of temper on Mr. Spencer's part," Fox +observed, "wholly uncalled for. Bad for the horse, too. I judge that +he is not the equal of Everett as a horse trainer." + +Sally's chuckling broke out afresh. "No, he's not, I'm afraid. Those +displays of temper are not unusual. Now, Fox, come along." + +Fox was a little surprised--just a little--to feel Sally's hand within +his arm, but he did know better than to show his surprise, if there +were some things that he didn't know. If he had only known, +he--well--but Sally was speaking to him. + +"Now, Fox," she was saying, "how in the world did you happen to turn +up just at that moment? You were in the nick of time." + +"Oh, I don't know about that. You would probably have left them. They +were about all in, both of them. But I didn't happen to turn up. It +wasn't any accident. I was looking for you." + +Unconsciously, Sally tightened her hold upon his arm. "Oh," she +murmured, "that was nice!" + +"I only got here this afternoon," Fox continued, paying no obvious +attention to her murmured remark, "and I went right to Mrs. Stump's. I +found your mother a little upset and rather anxious, but I didn't +succeed in finding out what it was about." He did not say--perhaps he +did not know--how upset Mrs. Ladue had been. She had been torn by +conflicting emotions, and she showed evidences of it. But there had +been never a moment's hesitation about the course she would pursue. +Only she had raised troubled, tearful eyes to Fox, and had said--but +what Mrs. Ladue had said forms no part of this chronicle. Whatever she +said, she did not tell him clearly of the rumors connecting Everett's +name with Sally's. He would hear those rumors soon enough, if there +was anything in them; if there was not, for that matter. + +Sally had been thinking. "I am afraid," she said softly, "that it was +about me. I hoped she was all over it when I left." + +Fox turned his head and looked at her, but he did not reply to her +remark directly. "She said that you had gone for a walk, but she +didn't know where. I waited a long time, thinking you might come in. +Your mother and I had a long talk." + +Sally would have given a good deal to know what the long talk was +about. "It--it isn't true, Fox," she began slowly. + +"What! It is true, too. We talked for an hour and forty minutes, while +I was waiting. I know." + +Sally laughed nervously. "I--I meant that anything you may hear about +me isn't true." + +"Clear as mud, Sally. Well, I'll remember. Anything that I hear about +you isn't true. But I'm not likely to hear the voice of rumor +especially if it's about you." + +Sally made no reply to this, and Fox went on. "When it began to grow +dark, I made some inquiries, and I found a certain person who had seen +you go out; and you had met a man at the next corner--Who was the man, +Sally?" + +"Everett," Sally replied briefly; and she started to say more, but +thought better of it--or worse, as you like--and shut her lips tight +together. + +"Oh, yes, she said she thought it was Everett. I thought that, +perhaps, she was mistaken." + +"No," said Sally, "she was not mistaken." + +"Hum!" said Fox, smiling to himself; but Sally could not see that. +"And this exceedingly well-informed person said that you and Everett +evidently had a spat on the street corner, and that he went off, mad." + +"Yes," said Sally, nodding. She might have known that Fox couldn't see +the nod. + +"Too bad!" said Fox. "Exemplary young man--especially one who has seen +the world and who has as perfect manners as Everett wishes it to be +thought that he has--shouldn't go off mad. Very young. It reminds one +of your young friend, Spencer. We should expect him to go off mad, +shouldn't we, Sally?" + +Sally chuckled again. "We should." + +"Well," Fox resumed, "finding that you had been last seen hiking down +the street without male escort, Everett having got mad and declined to +play and gone home,--it is to be hoped that he had gone home,--I put +out after you, lippety-clippety. All the male inhabitants of Whitby +seem to think that is their chief end in life." + +"Oh, Fox," said Sally faintly, "they don't." + +"They do," Fox insisted; "all except Dick." He laughed. "Speaking of +Dick reminds me that I have something to tell you if you don't let me +forget it. Well, loping along that way, I came to the historic +corner--of what street?" + +"River Street. How did you happen to come that way?" + +"Followed my nose. You had gone along this street. So did I. You came +to the corner. So did I, and I nearly ran into you." + +She shivered a little. Fox felt it, and held his arm closer to him. + +"Are you cold, Sally?" + +"No." She spoke low. "But I'm glad you came, Fox. I'm very glad." + +"So am I, for several reasons not to be catalogued at present." They +had almost reached Mrs. Stump's. "Oh, I was going to tell you +something in connection with Dick. Henrietta's engaged. She wanted me +to tell you. So, it is to be presumed, is Dick." + +"I'm very glad, but I'm not surprised. I don't suppose Henrietta +expected me to be." + +"She didn't mention it, so you don't have to be." + +"I'll write to her to-night. So that accounts for Dick's mysterious +disappearances." + +"He's been visiting us at your old place, Sally. He was so much +interested in seeing your favorite trees and in hearing about you, +that Henrietta felt rather jealous." + +Sally laughed derisively. They were standing at the foot of Mrs. +Stump's fine granite steps. Fox was silent for a moment, looking at +Sally. + +"I know," he said at last thoughtfully, "I know where there are some +gynesaurus trees near Whitby." + +Sally's face lighted up. "Could a person climb them, Fox?" + +"A person about twenty-two years old?" asked Fox. "I should think she +might if she is able." + +"She is able," she returned, nodding emphatically. "Will you tell me +where they are?" + +"Some day," Fox answered, not looking at her, "I will show them to +you." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +Sally was in rather better spirits for some time after that walk to +Fisherman's Cove, although there is some doubt whether the improvement +was due to her brief sight of the Cove under a winter sun and moon or +to realization of the fact that a great number of people were worse +off than she or to her break with Everett or to seeing Fox again. But +her break with Everett was of only a temporary nature, a fact which he +made very evident to her, at least, and, incidentally, to Miss Miller +and to Miss Lambkin and to Mrs. Upjohn and to many others; and, as for +seeing Fox, she had been enjoying that privilege for twelve years, +from time to time. To be sure, it had occasionally been a long while +from time to time, but that had not seemed to trouble Sally. So, +altogether, we are forced to abandon the inquiry as fruitless. Sally, +if we had asked her, would have smiled and would have answered quite +truly that she didn't know and she didn't care. It was the fact which +was most important; the fact was, indeed, of the only importance, +except to persons like Miss Letty Lambkin, who are never satisfied +with the simple facts of life, but must dig down until they find +certain diseased roots, which they fondly believe, without further +tracing, to be the roots of those facts, but which, more often than +not, do not belong to them at all, but to some other tree. + +Fox's hospital had had an opening, to which the inhabitants of Whitby +were invited. Whitby, in a way, was as exclusive as Philadelphia, and +Fox's cards of invitation were addressed only to those fortunate +persons living in a certain restricted area. That area was bounded, on +the east, by the Cow Path, although a few cards found their way down +the hill as far as Mrs. Stump's and Miss Miller's. Consequently, +Patty went and so did Mrs. Ladue and Sally. It might have been a +reception, for they found there nearly the whole of the élite of +Whitby and no one else, and the whole of the hospital staff were +engaged in showing small parties of the aforesaid élite over the +hospital and the farm connected with it. The hospital staff had no +other engagements, there being no patients yet. Patty was delighted +with it--and with the staff--and expressed her intention of coming out +to board as soon as the spring opened. And Fox, to whom this speech +was addressed--it was delivered in rather a coquettish manner, all +Miss Patty's own--smiled and bowed and made no reply. Perhaps no reply +was expected. Fox had heard many such remarks. He would have his +patients from among the makers of them. + +As soon as he could, Fox took Mrs. Ladue and Sally out over the farm. +Patty was deep in conversation with Doctor Beatty. So he missed her, +to his great regret, he said. But, never mind. She'll have a chance to +see it. And thereupon he smiled enigmatically, and proceeded to show +them what had been done. He was proud of it. When he had shown them +all of it, he waved his hand toward the old cream-colored square +house. + +"My residence," he said. "I am afraid that it will have to remain shut +up as it is, for the present. Henrietta's change of plan--or, I +shouldn't say that, perhaps--her engagement knocks my scheme of things +in the head. She is to be married in June, you know." + +"But, Fox," Mrs. Ladue exclaimed, "surely, you don't mean that you +won't open the house at all!" She was sorry for him. Why did he have +to miss the satisfaction of living in his own house? Such a house, +too! + +He nodded. "I don't see any prospect of it," he answered, rather +gloomily for him; "at least," he added, with a short laugh, "until I +am married. There is really no reason for it, you know. There is +likely to be room enough at this end of the establishment for some +time." + +It was Margaret Savage he referred to, Sally supposed. At least, +Henrietta, she remembered, had said--had intimated it. Suddenly, she +hated the old house. + +"It's a shame," Mrs. Ladue said softly. "It's a perfect shame, Fox. +If--if you want to live in it, there's no reason--" + +Fox shook his head. "It wouldn't be best or wise, dear Mrs. Ladue," he +said gently. "I can wait." + +"Aren't you going to show it to us?" asked Mrs. Ladue then, with +heightened color. "We should like to see the inside, shouldn't we, +Sally?" + +But Sally did not have a chance to reply. "Not to-day," said Fox. +"Sometime, soon, I hope, but not to-day." + +He said no more and Mrs. Ladue said nothing and Sally said nothing; +and they went in again, by unanimous consent, and presently Mrs. Ladue +and Sally and Patty drove away, although so early a departure was much +against Patty's inclination. They would not have succeeded in getting +her to go at all but that Fox took Doctor Beatty off to show him +something, and Doctor Beatty thanked him, although he did not make it +clear whether it was for wanting to show him the something or for +taking him away. But Meriwether Beatty had shown a capacity for +leaving Patty when he felt like it, so that I am forced to conclude +that that had nothing to do with his thanks. When they got back to +Mrs. Stump's they found a letter from Charlie waiting for them on the +hall table. I may add that Patty found a letter from Charlie, also, +but it was not like the one to his mother and Sally. It differed from +theirs in several important particulars. + +Charlie wrote a letter home every week, with unfailing regularity. It +was a perfunctory letter, filled with the unimportant happenings at +college. It never gave any information about himself except on those +rare occasions when he had something favorable to report, and it did +not need to be anything exceptionally favorable either. + +He wrote to Patty irregularly, sometimes more often sometimes less, +depending upon his needs. Once, when he had been having an unusually +good run of luck, he let nearly three weeks elapse between letters, +and then his next letter was almost seven pages long and contained no +reference to money. Patty had been awaiting a letter nervously and +opened this one with fear and trembling. The combination, after such +an interval, transported Patty with delight, and she ran over at once +to show the letter to Mrs. Ladue. It was the only one that she did +show to Mrs. Ladue, for all the others either were evidently dictated +by a necessity more or less dire, or they referred to previous "loans" +of which Mrs. Ladue and Sally knew nothing. Patty always managed to +supply his needs, although sometimes with extreme difficulty and with +a great casting up of accounts, in which process many perfectly good +pencils were consumed in a manner for which they were not intended. If +the makers of pencils had designed them for such use, they would have +made them with lolly-pops or chewing-gum on one end. + +Charlie's letters to Patty were triumphs of art, and would have made +his scholastic fortune if they could have been presented as daily +themes. If they were not always free from error, they were always +readable and the matter was treated in a way which unfailingly would +have been of interest to any one but Patty, and they showed evidence +of a lively and well-nourished imagination which was not allowed to +become atrophied. "William Henry's Letters to his Grandmother," +although of a somewhat different nature, were not a patch upon them. + +But Patty was too much concerned about the matter treated in these +letters to be interested in their literary value; and, besides, she +was not in a position to know the extent of the exercise to which +Charlie's imagination was subjected in the course of composition. Her +own imagination was not without exercise, for she had to finance his +requests. + +Patty's financing, that winter, would have done credit to a promoter. +She had already succeeded in getting herself involved deeply with the +builder who was repairing her house and with Dick, although Dick was +as yet in blissful ignorance of the fact. The builder had been paid +but very little since Christmas; but he, being an elderly man who had +known her father well, and who, accordingly, trusted any member of the +family implicitly, had said nothing yet. Patty wondered, with some +fear and trembling, how much longer he would go on without saying +anything. And then she put the whole matter aside. She could not see +her way out yet. + +It was not that she considered the repairs upon her house, which +amounted almost to rebuilding, as properly any business of Dick's. +But, unaccountably and inscrutably to Patty, if not to her friends and +acquaintances, her father had given Richard Torrington great +discretion, under his will. The Richard aforesaid was even empowered +to keep the management of all Patty's property and to give her no more +than a stated allowance, if he saw good reason to do so. Mr. Hazen had +made him virtually a trustee, perhaps actually; but, so far, he seemed +to regard himself as no more than the channel through which Patty's +money must necessarily flow and he honored all her requests, asking +only that she tell him the general purpose to which the money was to +be applied. + +In consequence of this situation, there had been certain checks signed +by Richard Torrington, Executor, designed to be applied to payments +upon the house. Several of these checks had been hypothecated by Patty +and diverted to other uses. Possibly Charlie Ladue could have given +some information as to those uses. Certainly Patty could not. She knew +nothing at all of the ultimate purposes to which her money was put. +For that matter, Charlie's knowledge went only one step farther. He +was nothing but a channel through which Patty's money necessarily +flowed. A good, generous sewer-pipe would have served as well, for all +the good that the money did him; and the process was rapidly +undermining Patty's morals. + +It was a great pity that Patty had chosen this method of supply. As +long as she was bound to keep Charlie supplied with whatever he asked +for, or as nearly as she could come to that, it would have been much +better to ask Dick to double her allowance for her personal use. He +might have wondered at such a request, but he would have done it +without question, and thereby Patty's self-respect would have been +saved without producing any effect upon Charlie's in either way. One +wonders whether Charlie had any shreds of self-respect left, anyway. + +So it is difficult to say whether Patty looked forward with greater +joy than dread to Charlie's coming home for the Easter recess. For +some weeks he had kept her stirred up by his requests, but these +requests were for relatively small sums, ten dollars or twenty-five, +and once he asked for fifty. But for ten days before his vacation, he +had asked her for nothing, and her fears were forgotten. + +When, at last, the Easter recess began, Charlie appeared promptly on +the afternoon when he should have appeared and he looked neither +forlorn nor seedy. To a careful eye, a loving eye, watching him for +some days, he might have seemed to be possessed of an anxiety which he +took pains to conceal; but it was an elusive thing and, if he chose to +deny its existence, how was one to prove it? + +Sally thought that she detected something, she could not tell just +what, and she asked her mother, casually, whether she had noticed +anything. + +Mrs. Ladue looked up quickly. "I can't tell, Sally," she replied. "I +thought I did, and I spoke to Charlie about it, but he assured me that +there was nothing wrong and that it must be all my imagination. I +couldn't press the question. To tell the truth, I was afraid to. He +seems to have no disposition to confide in me and to have a low +opinion of my judgment, but I shouldn't like to have him say so. +If--if you could speak to him--" + +"Very well," said Sally, sighing wearily, "I will, although I have no +hope of accomplishing anything by it--except arousing his suspicion," +she added with a short laugh, "if there is anything which worries him +and which he is unwilling to tell. We are not in Charlie's +confidence." + +"We have not been--_I_ have not been in his confidence for eleven +years--since I was taken sick." Mrs. Ladue sighed in her turn. "He +seems like a stranger. I haven't been able to get near him. But he +seems to be rather afraid of your judgment, Sally." + +"That's not a great help," Sally remarked with another short laugh, +"in getting near him, is it? But I'll try." + +Accordingly Sally asked him whether--she was careful to put the +question in as natural a form as possible and she tried to make it +seem casual, too--she asked him whether there was anything he would +like to have them do for him. It is not likely that she succeeded +thoroughly in either of these attempts, for Charlie only looked +startled and answered that he didn't think there was anything. And he +added that he was a little anxious about his reports. If they were not +as good as they might be, he hoped that mother would not be too much +disappointed. And Sally had shrugged a little and smiled a little and +shown a little of the contempt which she always felt for lying. She +did not know that Charlie was lying, but she felt that he was, and she +could not have helped that little smile of contempt to save her life. +But Charlie did not recognize her smile as one of contempt. He went +off to see Patty, smiling and patting himself on the back for having +thrown Sally off the scent so cleverly. + +It is not to be supposed that either Mrs. Ladue or Sally was so +lacking in natural affection that she let Charlie go on the way he was +going without a struggle--without several struggles. Not that they +knew just the way he was going, but they knew very well that they had +lost all their control over him; the control which is due to a mutual +love. It was Charlie who had shown a lack of natural affection. His +mother had struggled in vain against that lack and against the effect +of Patty's indulgence. As for Sally, if the love and regard of ten or +twelve years before, a love very like a mother's, had been changed +insensibly into the tolerant contempt of the strong for the weak--not +always perfectly tolerant, I am afraid--Charlie had only himself to +blame. But, as for blaming himself--pfooh! Much he cared! + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Charlie stood by the mantel in Patty's room, in such an attitude as he +imagined that Everett might take, under similar circumstances, and he +was trying to look troubled. It was an imitation mantel by which he +stood, being no more than a marble slab set upon iron brackets; for +the real mantel, of wood, which had surrounded a real fireplace of +generous proportions, had been removed when the fireplace had been +bricked up and a register inserted. That register, of the regulation +black, now stared at Miss Patty as she sat facing Charlie, and it +emitted a thin column of faintly warm air. Altogether, it was a poor +substitute for a fire and a gloomy thing to contemplate. Charlie's +attitude, too, as has been intimated, was but an imitation. His +trouble was no imitation, though, and his attempt to look troubled +succeeded beyond his fondest hopes. + +Patty had been looking at him for some time, growing more anxious +every minute. Charlie had said nothing at all, but had kept his eyes +fixed upon the distance; upon such distance as he could get through +Patty's window. That was not so very much, the distance being limited +by the house across the street, perhaps sixty feet away. At intervals +he sighed heavily, the time between sighs apparently--to Patty, at +least, his only hearer--apparently occupied by equally heavy thinking. + +At last Patty could stand it no longer. "What is it, Charlie, dear?" +she asked in a voice which trembled a little. "What is the matter, +dear boy?" + +Charlie forced a smile, his frown disappeared for an instant, and he +brought his gaze back, with a great effort, a superhuman effort, to +things near at hand: eventually to Patty herself. + +"Oh, nothing," he said gently. "Nothing at all." And he resumed his +gazing at the front of that house, sixty feet away, and his frowning +and his sighing and his heavy thinking. + +Patty was silent for some minutes. "Won't you tell me?" she asked +then. "I am sure there must be something which troubles you. You know +you can count on my sympathy." + +Charlie went through the same process as before. It took time. "What +did you say?" he said absently, when his look had, at last, come down +to Patty. "Sympathy? I'm afraid that won't do me much good." He +smiled; a smile that was meant to be pitiful. "But, no. There's +nothing the matter. Nothing at all, I assure you. It's all my own +fault anyway; my misfortune, rather," he added, so low that Patty +barely heard, and she thought that the words were not meant for her +ears. That was exactly in accordance with Charlie's intention. + +"Charlie!" she cried. "Charlie! You've got to tell me. I heard those +last words which you didn't mean me to hear. Now, you've got to tell +me." Her voice trembled more than ever. + +Charlie could not seem to resist this plea. He looked at her +pityingly, and he drew a long breath. + +"Well, Pat," he said--Pat was his pet name for her, used only under +stress--"well, Pat, if you must have it, then here goes. I'm only out, +for this vacation, on bail. I've got to--" + +"Wh-what?" asked Patty faintly. Her heart was playing mad pranks and +she put up her hand to steady it. At least, that seemed to be her +idea. "What was that you said, Charlie? Oh, Charlie, dear!" + +"Bail" and "jail" sound very much alike. They conveyed about the same +idea to poor Patty. Under certain circumstances, they convey about the +same idea to the one most intimately concerned. + +Charlie did not appear to be affected. "I've got to show up day after +to-morrow or forfeit my bail," he continued unfeelingly. "Well," he +said doggedly, "I will. I may have to go to jail, but what of it?" + +"Oh, Charlie, dear!" Patty cried, more faintly than before. "Oh, +Charlie, dear! Whatever have you done that you should talk of going +to--to--Charlie, I feel faint. My salts, dear," she said hurriedly. +"They are on the top of my bureau, in that green bottle." + +"Charlie dear" obediently got the little green bottle, stifling a +smile which would curl the corners of his mouth, in spite of himself, +while his back was turned to Patty. When he came back to her he looked +properly concerned; but Patty's eyes were closed. He removed the +stopper and held the bottle close under her nose, to revive her, which +happy event occurred with a suddenness that was a surprise to Patty, +at least. She gasped and gave a little choking cry. + +"Oh, Charlie! Not so cl-close." + +"All right now, Pat?" he asked with a cheerfulness that was evidently +assumed. He removed the bottle and put in the stopper. + +"I--I think so," she replied, still faintly. "Now--go--on, Charlie. +Tell me. I think I can bear it. I'll try to." + +"Why," said Charlie, "there's nothing to tell. I got bail so that I +could come home for my Easter vacation. Time's up day after to-morrow, +and I've got to show up or forfeit my bail." + +"Who is the--the bailer?" Patty inquired as if it were her last +breath. + +"One of the other men," Charlie returned glibly. "He isn't really rich +either, so he couldn't very well afford to have me jump it." + +"Jump it?" Patty repeated. She was getting pretty well dazed. + +"Yes," said Charlie impatiently. "Haven't you ever heard that +expression? It's the legal expression for failing to show up and +forfeiting your bail. If I should jump it, that other man would have +to pay the amount of my bail." + +"Ho-how much is it?" Patty asked in a trembling voice. + +Charlie made a rapid mental calculation. "One thousand dollars," he +said. + +"One thousand dollars!" repeated poor Patty slowly. "One thou--but, +Charlie," for a gleam of light had come to her,--"but, Charlie, what +is it for? What ha-have you done? Oh, it is too terrible!" + +"I haven't done much of anything, really," Charlie protested; "nothing +worth mentioning if we hadn't had an accident." + +"An accident!" Patty murmured. + +"Yes, an accident. You see there were four of us that thought it would +be fun--and no harm, Pat, really, if things hadn't gone wrong--to take +a little run in a motor--an automobile. Fostrow has a car of his own +at home, and he was to drive. In fact, he did." Charlie chuckled, as +though at the recollection. "He did until he had got us arrested twice +for speeding. But that was a small matter, only twenty-five dollars a +time. Fostrow paid that himself. He said it was worth double the money +to see those country-men get out of the way. And we ran over a dog. It +turned out to be a very valuable dog. All that is in the day's work, +though. We--" + +"Oh, Charlie," Patty interrupted, "I _knew_ you would get into trouble +if you went in those _horrible_ machines, at any rate, without a +_competent_ and _reliable_ driver. I have always thought that Edward +would be the driver I should choose; so steady and--" + +"Edward!" Charlie exclaimed. He had been about to add something +further, in the way of comment, but he thought better of it. "No +doubt, Edward would be very steady, but he is too old, to my way of +thinking. Well, we had gone about fifty miles and began to think it +was time to go back. So we filled up our gasoline tank, got something +to eat, and started back. It was dark by that time. We were rather +hurrying over the country roads, when something went wrong with the +steering-gear and the next thing I knew I was lying on the other side +of a stone wall--" + +"O-oh!" shuddered Patty. + +"--And the machine was completely smashed--crumpled up--with a +telephone pole on top of it. Then the gasoline caught fire and the +whole thing burned up, pole and all. The other men were more or less +hurt, but I hadn't a scratch, only some bruises. Fostrow's in a +hospital out there, now, with two ribs broken. The owner of the +machine got after us. It was a new machine and a beauty; cost five +thousand, he said. So that explains the bail." + +"Oh, Charlie!" breathed Patty. "What a mercy you escaped!" + +Charlie smiled complacently. He had really done pretty well. That +story, he thought, would be a credit to anybody. + +"But, Charlie," Patty continued, after a short silence, "why don't you +tell Sally the whole story. She'd find some way to get you out of it. +She--she is really very good at managing affairs." + +Charlie shivered involuntarily. Sally was very good at managing +affairs. He could see her pitying smile as she listened in silence to +his string of plausible lies and the look from the gray eyes would be +boring straight down into his soul as he talked, and he would be +afraid. And his speech would grow more halting, and he would finish in +some confusion and Sally would turn away with a quiet "Humph!" or she +would say nothing at all, which would be almost worse. And she would +not tell him what she was going to do, but she would go and do it, and +it--whatever it was--would be most effective, and that was exactly +what Charlie did not want. He shivered again as he thought of it. +Sally managed affairs too well; that was the trouble. No, distinctly +no; he did not want Sally to have any hand in this affair. He thought +that he could manage it very well himself. It was going beautifully, +so far. + +"No, Pat," he said gently. "I prefer not to tell Sally. I--to tell the +truth, Sally and mother don't seem very glad to see me. I think they'd +rather I stayed away." + +"Oh, you poor boy!" Patty's eyes shone with pity. "You dear boy! +_I'm_ glad to see you, anyway, Charlie, dear. You have one friend who +won't desert you." + +"Thank you, Pat. I thought I could depend on you." + +"I'll undertake the management of this affair." Patty spoke with +pride. A faint smile began to curl the corners of Charlie's mouth. He +suppressed it. Patty was deep in thought; or she flattered herself +that she was. + +She might as well have undertaken to add a cubit to her stature by +taking thought. She was silent for some minutes, looking more worried +with every minute that passed. At last she looked up. + +"Oh, dear!" she said, sighing, "I can't think of anything. It wouldn't +do any good for you to go away, would it?" + +Charlie shook his head and looked very solemn. "No. That would mean +giving up my college course and jumping my bail. I should become a +fugitive from justice." That sounded rather impressive and Charlie +repeated it, as impressively as he could. "A fugitive from justice." + +"Charlie, don't!" cried Patty wildly. "It sounds as if you were a +criminal." Charlie made no reply. "What would you suggest?" + +"Nothing," he answered with resignation. "There is nothing to be done +but for me to surrender myself to my bondsmen--" That sounded +impressive, too. "Surrender myself to my bondsmen," he repeated, "and +to the justice of the court." + +"Oh, Charlie!" Patty wailed faintly. "Oh, Charlie, dear, isn't there +some other way?" + +He shook his head again. "No other way that I can see. No other way +that wouldn't call for more money than I can possibly raise. For I +won't ask you for it, Pat. I simply _won't_." + +Patty was lying back in her chair. She seemed to feel faint again, and +Charlie hurried to her, the little green bottle once more in his hand. +She waved it aside. + +"H-how much," she asked, "must you have, Charlie?" + +"Never mind that, Pat. That's settled. It's much more than I should +be willing to ask you to lend me, or to accept from you. I'll just +surrender myself. It will soon be over." He spoke as cheerfully as +though he were going to execution. + +Patty looked at him. She thought that she had never seen any one so +brave. + +"Tell me. How much must you have?" + +"I suppose that eight or nine hundred would settle it, since you +insist." He swept it all aside with a wave of his hand. "But dismiss +the matter from your mind. We'll consider it settled." + +"We won't. It isn't settled." Poor Patty was having a last struggle +with her conscience. It was really a hard struggle and it took some +time. At last she drew a long shuddering breath. "Look in my top +bureau drawer, Charlie," she said, raising haggard eyes to his, "in +the front. There's a check there somewhere. It's for seven hundred and +fifty dollars." + +Charlie protested. Nevertheless, he moved with alacrity and rummaged +until he found the check. It was signed by Richard Torrington, +Executor. He presented it to Patty, folded, as he had found it. + +"Is this it, Pat? It is folded, you see, so that it is impossible to +know whether it is the one you wanted or not." + +"And to think that you wouldn't look, Charlie! But I might have known +it. I don't know what Richard would say," she murmured. "And I don't +know what the carpenters will do--the builders. But never mind. It is +my own money, anyway, and I'll do what I like with it. Charlie," she +said louder, "you must take this. Perhaps I can raise fifty dollars +more to-morrow morning. Do I have to write my name on the back?" + +Charlie protested again, but his protests were fainter than they had +been. He must not overdo it. + +Patty had risen from her chair and had gone to her desk. "Perhaps," +she said doubtfully, "it would be better--you would rather have me +cash the check and give you the money." Charlie's protests were +reduced to a mere murmur now. "Yes, that will be better." + +Charlie looked perplexed. He frowned tremendously and was very solemn. +He, too, seemed to be having a terrible struggle with his conscience. +It is, perhaps, unnecessary to say that he wasn't. Patty watched him +fearfully, the check clasped to her bosom and her eyes pitiful. At +last he heaved a long, shivering sigh, looked up and met her eyes +fixed upon him. There was fear in them and a great love. He had the +grace to flush faintly. + +"Am I to understand, Pat," he asked slowly, "that you insist upon +letting me have this--this money?" + +"You must take it, Charlie. You _shall_ take it," she cried fiercely. +"Please do." + +"We-ell," he replied, "to please you, I will, since you insist. But I +am very unwilling to take it and I wouldn't, from anybody else. I only +do it now on condition that you will regard it as a loan which I will +repay very soon." How? Did Patty ask herself that question? + +"My dear boy!" exclaimed Patty softly. "My dear boy! Think what it is +saving you from! You won't have to go to j---- Oh, I can't say it. But +you won't have to, now, will you, Charlie? Say you won't." + +"No," said he, sighing heavily again, "I guess I won't. But, as far as +I am concerned, that is of very little consequence. It is you that I +am thinking of. Mother and Sally wouldn't care, except as it would +reflect on them, whether I was in jail or not. Of course," he added, +with an apparent wish to be fair, "I may be doing them an injustice, +but I don't think so. But it is different with you. Aside from the +disgrace which I should be bringing down on your head, I think you +would feel it, for my sake." + +"Feel it!" she murmured. "Feel it! Oh, Charlie, dear! I believe I +should die. I know it would kill me." + +Charlie smiled sympathetically. + +Tears stood in Patty's eyes. "You shall have eight hundred dollars +to-morrow morning. I'll get it as soon as the bank is open. And you +come here after it. Come early, Charlie. I want you all to myself for +a little while." + +"Thank you, Pat. I am very grateful." + +She looked longingly at him; a look which he seemed not to see. + +"Charlie," she said softly. + +"Yes, Pat?" + +She hesitated for a moment. "K-kiss me, Charlie." Her voice was so low +that he scarcely heard her. "Kiss me, won't you, dear?" + +And so he did. That was the least he could do. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +The blow had fallen. It had fallen upon Patty. The builder had +happened to come upon Dick in the bank; and, being rather pressed for +money, he had remarked, half in joke, upon the slowness of the +payments from the Hazen estate. Whereat Dick, very much surprised but +trying not to show it, had asked for particulars which the builder was +very willing to supply; and the matter having been sifted to the +bottom, so far as the builder was concerned, Dick had, then and there, +given him a check for all that was owing him, which was greatly to the +builder's gratification and as it should be. + +If the matter was sifted to the bottom, so far as the builder was +concerned, it was very far from that satisfactory condition so far as +Patty was concerned. Dick went to see Patty and asked her, as +delicately and gently as was at all consistent with getting the +information that he wanted, what had become of the checks which he had +sent her, from time to time? Where had the money gone which was +intended for the builder? But Patty stood by her guns and would not +tell. They might suspect, but they should not know--from her. She +insisted that it was her money, that her father had meant it for her, +and she would use it as she pleased without being accountable to +anybody. + +Dick, patient, pleasant, but insistent, was unable to get anything +more out of her, try as he would, and he had been forced to go away +again, baffled and no wiser than he was when he came, except that it +was evident that the money had been applied to some purpose which +Patty wished to conceal. He was satisfied that it had not been applied +to her personal use. Indeed, it was incredible that she could have +used so much without having anything to show for it, unless she had +fallen into the hands of one of those sharpers who supply trusting +women with the stocks and bonds of mythological mines guaranteed to +produce a return of three hundred per cent a year. Even in that case, +Miss Patty might have shown him the beautiful examples of the +engraver's art with which the aforesaid corporations reward their +victims. + +No, such a condition was not probable. It was much more likely that +Charlie Ladue had got it. And because he was morally certain of the +use to which the money had been put--as far as Patty was concerned--he +was careful not to say anything of his suspicions to anybody. He did +not wish them to get to Sally's ears; not until they were something +more than suspicions, at least. Supposing that Charlie had received +the money, what had he done with it? + +So Dick said nothing, but he drew the lines tighter and made his +authority felt. What else could he do? What was his clear duty? It was +to be presumed that Mr. Hazen had had such a condition clearly in mind +when he drew his will. So Patty found herself with no more, at her +immediate command, than her allowance, which Dick intimated would be +made any reasonable amount that she wished; but all of her bills must +be sent to him for payment. He thought it the part of wisdom to write +this. + +The state of mind into which Patty was thrown by this letter may be +imagined. "The insolent puppy!" she cried, sitting alone in her room. +It was rather a strong epithet to apply to Dick Torrington, who never +in his life had been anything but kind and protecting. But people +seldom wish to be protected against themselves. "Upstart!" That, Dick +certainly was not. "Why, that means that I can't pay my own board. And +Miss Miller will think--I don't know what she will think, but the +whole town will know about it." Her face crimsoned with mortification. +She thought deeply for some time. "I know what I'll do," she said to +herself with determination when she had come to an end of her +thinking, which, by the way, she seldom did; not to any logical end. +"I know what I'll do. I will go right out to Doctor Sanderson's. He +won't talk. It's a little early to go into the country, but I need a +change." + +So Patty was quite cheerful, for the time being, while she arranged +the change which she needed so badly. Miss Miller was less cheerful +and allowed herself to remark that perhaps it was just as well, as +Patty didn't seem to be able to pay her bills promptly; able or +willing, she didn't know which and it didn't matter much which it was, +as far as she could see. But she might have stayed her season out, now +that Dick Torrington was willing to undertake the job of looking after +her, and a thankless job it was, as she, Mary Miller, could bear +witness. And thereupon Miss Mary Miller turned her back upon Miss +Patty and flounced out of the room before Patty should make any +suitable reply. + +Miss Miller need not have hurried out of the room, for Patty was too +much astonished to think of any fitting reply for some time. She sat +with her mouth open--a sight which it is to be presumed Miss Miller +would have been glad to see--with her mouth open, which was very +unusual for Miss Patty, and with her cheerfulness quite gone, which +was not at all unusual. After a few minutes she remembered to close +her mouth, but she did not resume her cheerfulness. So Miss Miller +knew, after all. Patty wondered, vaguely, how she had found out. She +did not suspect Dick, for Dick had a talent for keeping his own +counsel. She could not guess, although she had tried, goodness knew! +And Patty heaved a long sigh and gave it up. Then, if Mary Miller +knew, Letty Lambkin knew, and one could be sure that everybody in +town, of her acquaintance who would listen to her, would know, too. + +As a matter of fact, Letty Lambkin was bursting with information. She +went to Mrs. Upjohn's early that year, ostensibly to make that lady +some summer clothes, but really because Mrs. Upjohn let her talk +freely; I wouldn't say that Mrs. Upjohn encouraged her to talk, for +Letty did not need any actual encouragement. But she let her talk, +freely, and that was equivalent to encouragement. + +"Alicia," Letty began, almost as soon as she had got inside the door, +"I s'pose you know about poor Patty. It's the common talk." Mrs. +Upjohn had no chance to reply. "Dick Torrington's taken it upon +himself to manage her affairs, and all Patty has is her allowance. But +of course you know that. It seems rather a high-handed thing for Dick +to do, and he only a little tow-headed shaver when Patty was a grown +woman. I suppose he has the right to do it, or else he wouldn't. I'm +told that Patty was getting into a terrible mess with her property. +She used the checks that were meant for the builder for another +purpose, I hear. Poor Mr. Means! And Mary Miller had to wait, too." + +Mrs. Upjohn laughed comfortably. "I guess Charlie Ladue could tell +something about those checks." + +"Like enough he could," said Miss Lambkin, preparing to go to work. +"Where's your cloth, Alicia? Oh, in your room? Don't you stir. I'll +get it." She came back immediately. "Well, as I was saying, it's +really too bad that Patty's mind is giving way." + +"Her mind giving way!" echoed Mrs. Upjohn, surprised out of her usual +caution. "Oh, I guess not. Who told you that, Letty?" + +"Yes, indeed," said Miss Lambkin with a toss of her head. "Didn't you +know that she's been sent out to Doctor Sanderson's Home for +Incurables? Dick sent her out there nearly a month ago. She's as +comfortable there as could be expected. I have it on the best of +authority--some one connected with the institution," she added with a +nod and a knowing look. + +Mrs. Upjohn laughed again. "I can't believe it, Letty. You must have +been misinformed. In the first place, Doctor Sanderson's place isn't a +home for incurables." + +"I know he doesn't call it that. To tell the truth, I can't find out +just what he does call it." + +"Can't your best of authority tell you that, too?" asked Mrs. Upjohn +slyly. + +"Now, Alicia," said Miss Lambkin with asperity, "you needn't go to +calling in question my authority. It was one of the nurses, if you +must know." + +"Doctor Sanderson wouldn't thank her for talking so freely," remarked +Mrs. Upjohn. "I should really like to know what he would say about +Patty. I understood that she had simply gone there to board." + +"I suppose she can call it that, but I don't believe that Doctor +Sanderson is running a boarding-house or a hotel either. I always +thought that she was bound for the asylum. And, another thing, I had +it from the same authority that Meriwether Beatty goes to see her +regularly once or twice a week, and he's real kind, too. I leave it to +you whether that isn't a sign that he thinks her mind is growing +feeble. He always used to say the most brutal things." + +"I should say it was rather a sign that Doctor Beatty was losing his +mind than that Patty was losing hers," rejoined Mrs. Upjohn. + +"Well," said Letty with an air of finality, "you just wait and see if +I'm not right." + +"I will," said Mrs. Upjohn. + +Miss Lambkin glanced at her smiling face and thought it best to change +the subject. + +"Dick Torrington," she observed, "is going to be married to that +Henrietta girl. But I suppose you know." + +"Yes," said Mrs. Upjohn. + +"I understood," Miss Lambkin resumed, "that the wedding was to be the +last of June." + +"The twenty-eighth," said Mrs. Upjohn. + +"Oh," rejoined Miss Lambkin, somewhat taken aback by Mrs. Upjohn's +ready replies. "And I understood that Henrietta was coming on here to +visit right away." + +"She came last night," said Mrs. Upjohn. + +"To visit with Sally, I suppose?" Letty was consumed with curiosity as +to the source of Mrs. Upjohn's accurate information. She always liked +to be the source herself. + +"She is the guest of Mrs. Torrington," said Mrs. Upjohn, raising her +eyes at last. + +"Dear me, Alicia," Letty exclaimed impatiently, "how you do snap a +person up! I suppose that was why Dick was grinning so like a monkey +when I saw him yesterday afternoon." + +"Because I snap a person up?" + +"Because Henrietta was coming. He seemed to be on his way to the +station." + +"Possibly. He didn't tell me the reason. But Henrietta didn't come +until nearly ten o'clock." + +"Well!" The discomfited Letty devoted herself to her work for some +minutes in silence. But she could not keep silent long. "So Dick gave +you all that information, I suppose. I wondered how you got it all so +pat." + +"No," returned Mrs. Upjohn calmly. "I haven't seen Dick, to speak to, +for a good while." + +Miss Lambkin laid down her work. "Well, Alicia," she said slowly, +"will you be good enough to tell me how you found out all that--right +up to last night?" + +"Better than that, Letty," Mrs. Upjohn replied. "I know what happened +this morning, about half past seven." + +"They ate their breakfast, I suppose," snapped Letty. "I could have +told you that." + +"They didn't have breakfast until eight," said Mrs. Upjohn. + +"Oh, Lord!" cried Miss Lambkin in utter disgust. She had been tried +beyond the bounds of reason. + +Mrs. Upjohn laughed until the tears stood in her eyes. "As to my +information, Letty," she said as soon as she could speak, "I pick it +up here and there, and I use my eyes." + +"As much as to say that you give a good guess. I thought I was pretty +good at picking up information. But you have me beat, Alicia, I'm free +to confess." + +Mrs. Upjohn made no reply. + +"It's rather a pity that Dick didn't choose nearer home," Miss Lambkin +resumed, after pausing long enough for the reply which did not come. +"There's Sally, now." + +"They'd have made a good match," Mrs. Upjohn observed, sighing +reminiscently, "but there's no accounting for tastes in such matters." + +"Meaning Everett?" asked Letty, looking up sharply. + +Mrs. Upjohn shook her head. "Not especially." + +"I suppose you know," said Miss Lambkin pointedly, "with your sources +of accurate information, that he's hanging around again. There was a +time when it seemed to be all off for a few weeks." + +Mrs. Upjohn nodded. + +"There are some cases where you can't even give a good guess," Letty +continued maliciously. "Aren't there, Alicia?" + +Mrs. Upjohn nodded again; but she only rocked gently and said nothing. + +Miss Lambkin seemed to be following out a train of thought, but in +silence. That was not her custom. She usually pursued thought with a +wild halloa. + +Presently she gave a sort of a cackle, which with her did duty for a +chuckle of amusement. "I'd give something to have seen Charlie Ladue +when he first heard of Patty's fix. I'll warrant he didn't like it. I +wonder whether Sally knows. It seems to me that she ought to be told." + +"Told what, Letty? A pack of stories that are no more than guessing? +And who's to tell her? When we know anything about Charlie it'll be +time enough to be thinking about telling Sally." + +"All the same," Letty pursued obstinately, "Sally ought to know." + +"Humph!" said Mrs. Upjohn. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Henrietta sat on the edge of Sally's bed, swinging her little feet, +which hardly touched the floor,--she had only to raise the tips and +they swung clear,--and she was as smiling, as pretty, as dainty, as +inconsequent, and as charming as ever. At least, Sally seemed to find +her charming and so, it is to be presumed, did Dick. Sally, with a +little smile upon her lips, leaned against the window casing and +looked at her. She feasted her eyes; she looked so long and she stared +so hard that Henrietta dammed, for a moment, the stream of talk that +flowed from her lips and flushed a little, faintly. + +"What's the matter, Sally? I know my hair's in a mess. Is there +anything wrong with my dress? Have I got a dirty face? I washed it, +but if there is a smudge on my nose I think it is the part of a friend +to tell me and not let me go out looking like a fright." + +Sally shook her head slowly. "There's nothing the matter, Henrietta. I +was only thinking what a lucky man Dick is." + +The flush on Henrietta's face deepened. "Oh, do you think so, Sally?" +she asked softly. "Do you really think so? I was a little bit afraid +you didn't approve. And how about me? Don't you think I'm a lucky +girl?" + +"Very," answered Sally, smiling still. "Dick is everything that's +good. He's the one best man for you. But why did you think that I +might not approve?" + +"We--ll," said Henrietta with some hesitation, bending forward to look +at her swinging feet, then looking up at Sally, "I--I went after him +in such a barefaced manner, and you knew it." Sally shook her head +again. "Oh, yes, you did. It's no use to shake your gory locks at me. +You knew I did; the very night of your fire. I don't deny it. I did go +after him with all my might and I got him." She spoke triumphantly. +"I'm glad I went after him, for--for I never should have got him at +all if I had not. I'm proud of it, but I don't advertise it, +generally. I confess it to you, but I should deny the fact to anybody +else. Wild horses shouldn't drag it out of me. Not ever! And then, +Sally, another reason why I was a little afraid you wouldn't +approve--" Henrietta hesitated again, stopped, and once more regarded +her feet. + +"Well?" Sally asked, amused. + +"Well." Henrietta looked up and smiled. "To tell the truth, I couldn't +believe that you didn't want him yourself. There! It's out. Just a +little, Sally." + +Sally laughed. "Not even just a little, Henrietta. Dick is a dear +friend--he has been that to me always, ever since his kite and +Everett's broke my foot--and I hope he always will be; but the idea of +falling in love with each other never entered either of our heads. So +you may be quite easy in your mind. My heart isn't even bent." + +"But you know," Henrietta insisted, "that you could have got him if +you had tried as hard as I did." + +"I guess not," Sally replied; "not after you appeared, anyway. You +needn't distress yourself. I remember that I used to look upon Dick +and Everett with adoration, as a little girl. They were my ideals. +When they carried me home, after the kite accident, I was in the +seventh heaven. But there was nothing, even then. No, Dick is all +yours, as far as I am concerned." + +Henrietta breathed a sigh. "Well, I'm glad to be sure of it. But, +Sally," she continued, with a doubtful glance, as if she were a little +afraid of Sally and of what she was about to ask, "how about Everett? +Was there ever--?" + +Sally laughed again suddenly. "No, there wasn't. Everett never looked +at me." + +"But, Sally," Henrietta persisted, "it isn't so now. Does he--you +aren't engaged, are you, Sally?" she asked softly, glancing up timidly +under her long lashes. + +Sally seemed to be in haste to reply. "Oh, no," she said. "Oh, no. I +am not likely to be. I suppose you mean Everett." + +"Yes, I did," returned Henrietta. She showed some surprise. "Why? Is +there anybody else?" + +"No, oh, no," Sally answered more hastily than before. "There isn't. +As far as I can see, I am scheduled to teach for the rest of my life." + +"Are you quite sure, Sally?" Henrietta urged. "Isn't there _anybody_? +Not even somebody that you wish--" + +Sally was getting rather red. "No, no, Henrietta," she said, +interrupting. "Now that's enough about my affairs of the heart. It's a +little embarrassing to be questioned so closely, dear." + +"I'm sure I beg your pardon, Sally," cried Henrietta impulsively. "I +didn't mean to be. Now, _I_ am just dying to be questioned closely. +Try me." + +"I don't know what to ask," said Sally, smiling. "I would if I did." + +Henrietta sighed. "You're very disappointing, Sally. If you were +really interested you would know." She sighed again. "But, anyway, +you'll be what I want you to be at my wedding, won't you?" + +"Indeed, I will. I'll be anything you want me to be." She laughed a +little. "But I warn you that I shall need coaching. What do I have to +do?" + +"Nothing much. You'll have all the coaching you need. You know it's +going to be at Fox's house. He's going to open it for the occasion." + +"Only for the occasion?" Sally spoke coldly; so coldly that her voice +did not sound natural. "I rather gathered, from a remark that he made +a while ago, that he contemplated matrimony, too." + +"Fox get married?" Henrietta was genuinely surprised. "Well, it's news +to me. Who's to be my sister-in-law? Did he say?" + +Sally shook her head. "I supposed it was probably Margaret Savage." + +"Oh!" cried Henrietta. "I hope not." Then she seemed to be ashamed of +her outburst and sat, swinging her feet and looking wistfully at +Sally. "I had hoped," she observed at last, "that, when Fox's time +came, it would be--" She stopped and considered. "I hoped that it +would be--not Margaret Savage, Sally." + +Sally made no reply. + +"Margaret Savage is so--so _empty_, you see," Henrietta went on. "She +would not be exhilarating. But I won't say any more about her." + +"It isn't really necessary," Sally returned, laughing. + +"And the less said the better," Henrietta concluded. "I don't know +why, but it reminds me of your Cousin Patty. Dick hasn't told me much +of anything," Henrietta lowered her voice. "Do you suppose it is true +that she is losing her mind?" + +"Did Dick tell you that?" asked Sally, startled. + +Henrietta shook her head. "I heard it talked about." + +"I have no reason to think so. She gets queerer and more cranky every +year. She has changed a good deal since Uncle John died. Poor Patty! +She has very little comfort in life--except Charlie." Sally laughed +shortly. "I hope she finds him a comfort." + +Henrietta did not know what to say. Consequently she said nothing, +which was, no doubt, just the right thing. + +"Charlie will be home to-morrow," Sally added; then she corrected +herself. "I should have said that Charlie is due to-morrow. He may not +come." + +"Oh, Sally!" Henrietta cried. "What makes you speak so? It--it sounds +horrible." + +"It's the simple fact, Henrietta." + +"Why don't you do something about it? I would." + +Sally gave a little shrug. "What would you do? There is nothing to be +done. Charlie's a headstrong boy and he seems to have slipped away +altogether from mother's control. Patty indulges him and I don't see +how I can do anything. If he had really done anything wrong and I knew +it, it would be a different matter. I don't know that he has--but," +she added in a low voice, "I don't know that he hasn't." + +Henrietta chanced to glance at the watch upon her wrist. "Oh, mercy +me!" she cried, springing to her feet. "I didn't know it was so late. +I've got to meet Dick in five minutes. Good bye, Sally." + +Henrietta was gone, running down the stairs. She need not have hurried +so, for Dick was late. He was so late that she had become hotly +impatient and then angry with him. Indeed, she was just going away, +hurt and angry, when Dick appeared, hurrying as if he were pursued by +devils and smiling propitiatingly. + +"I'm awfully sorry to be so late, Henrietta," he began. "I simply +could not get away from those two bores. I came just as soon as I +could without throwing them out of the office." + +Henrietta's anger was dissolved like a morning mist. "Who was it, +Dick?" + +"The Carling twins. It took them a long time to say what they wanted +to, for you know they still stutter." + +"I've never seen them, although I've heard of them. What were they +trying to say?" + +"Oh, I don't know. To tell the truth, I was so afraid of being late +that I didn't pay as much attention as I ought to have." + +This confession would have been a great comfort to the Carlings, for +they had taken especial pains and made this trip for the sole purpose +of seeing Dick. What they had to say concerned Charlie Ladue. It is +not to be supposed that they would be so concerned about the acts of +Charlie Ladue, if he were the only one. But his acts would involve +Sally, sooner or later, and, so long as that was inevitable, it had +better be sooner. In fact, the sooner the better. And, each of the +Carlings knowing a thing or two, as was to be expected of them, they +had had a long deliberation on the subject, only the night before. + +"S--s--ssomeb--b--body ought t--to kn--n--now ab--bout it," Harry +observed. "I w--w--wouldn't b--bother m--myself ab--b--out +wh--wh--what t--that l--l--lemon of a k--kid d--did 'f--f it w--wasn't +for S--S--Sally. D--d--don't l--like t--to b--be the one t--to t--tell +on h--h--him, b--but wh--wh--who d--does? Wh--wh--who'll we t--tell? +Th--that's the q--q--question." + +"C--c--can't t--tell S--S--Sally," Horry remarked. + +"C--c--course we c--c--can't," Harry replied scornfully. "An--ny +f--f--fool'd kn--n--now th--that." + +"N--n--nor P--P--Patty," Horry remarked further. + +They both grinned. Harry did not think the observation worthy of a +reply. + +"M--m--might t--tell D--D--Doc--Doc--tor S--S--San--n--damn it. You +kn--now." + +Harry nodded. He did not care to try the name. They both knew. +"N--no," he said. + +"D--D--Dick?" The name came from Horry's lips with the force of an +explosion. + +"D--D--Dick's n--no g--good," Harry replied gloomily. "G--goin' t--to +be m--m--married 'n a l--little m--more'n a w--w--week." + +They both relapsed into silence. + +After some minutes of silence, Horry heaved a sigh. "N--n--no use," he +said. "It's D--D--Dick. C--c--can't th--think of an--nybody else. I'm +g--g--goin' d--down to--m--m--morrow. C--c--come b--back s--same +d--day; 'll--ll--ll y--you go?" + +Harry nodded. "'R--r--right," he said. The Carlings were to graduate +within a week, which explains their anxiety to get back. + +Horry rose. Their deliberations were ended. "Th--that d--d--damned +f--f--fool m--m--must ha--ha--have d--dropped m--m--more'n +f--f--fif--f--teen hundred 'n n--numbers--s--seven th--th--this +y--year. I w--wonder wh--wh--whose?" + +Horry's information was surprisingly accurate. + +"G--guess it's P--P--Patty's," Harry observed. + +Accordingly they went down to see Dick. Their story was shot off at +him in little puffs, like a bunch of firecrackers. Dick, being +diverted by the manner of telling and being much concerned about his +engagement with Henrietta, did not take it all in, perhaps, and if he +forgot all about it during the next ten days, he is to be excused. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Henrietta's wedding was rather a quiet one, as weddings went in +Whitby. That is, there were not many more people there than the old +cream-colored house could accommodate comfortably, so that the +overflow would not have more than half filled the yard; which was +lucky, as the yard was already nearly half full of automobiles and +carriages, tightly packed by the wall. There was a long string of them +in the road, too. But as it was a lovely summer day, the first really +warm day of the summer, and as the birds were singing madly in the +orchard as though they knew it was a very special occasion and one to +be celebrated accordingly, and as the orchard was a very inviting +place with a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the apple trees, and +as the view over the little valley was more attractive than the most +beautiful interior of old houses, and as--well, without continuing the +catalogue of reasons, the people gradually drifted outside, two at a +time. They formed a cluster around the well-sweep; a cluster whose +composition was continually changing. Having given as much voice to +their admiration of the well-sweep as they thought was expected of +them, they wandered on and scattered and drew together into other +groups and scattered again; and by a repetition of this process little +clusters were formed, at last, that had no tendency to scatter. + +There were two groups in particular whose composition was changing, +even yet, and changing very rapidly. They were, for all the world, +like swarms of ants, the component individuals continually coming and +going like ants which were very busy and very intent on their +business. These individuals would hurry up and join the group at its +outer edge, and push and struggle to get to the centre, while others +seemed equally eager to get out. So that there was a continual +movement and jostling. But if you could have looked into the centre of +either of these groups, you would have seen--no, not the bride; you +would have seen either a great bowl of punch or a table loaded with +good things, or their remains--no more than the wrecks of things. As +to the bride, she had slipped away. + +There was another group which had formed after the manner of these +stable groups already mentioned, and which had somewhat withdrawn +itself to the very back edge of the orchard, away from the others. The +members of this group were not concerning themselves with the punch or +with the things to eat or with the ants coming and going so +continuously, but they talked together in low voices as if they would +escape observation. They were Sally and Fox and Mrs. Ladue; but they +could not hope to escape for long. And Fox was somewhat serious, which +is not to be wondered at, he having just lost a sister, if you care to +look at it in that way. And Sally was rather serious, too, which is +not to be wondered at, for she had just lost a friend, however you +prefer to look at it. Mrs. Ladue was the only one of that group who +looked other than serious and solemn, and there was, even in her look, +something lacking to a perfect joy, for a person who cared enough to +find it might have discovered something wistful there. It was as if +she wanted something very much and knew that she could not get it. I +leave it to you whether any person can be in that state of mind and be +perfectly joyful. What it was that she wanted I do not know nor why +she could not get it; although, if the thing concerned those other +two, the only reason that she could not get it was that they were both +as blind as bats--blinder than bats. + +Sally was silent, gazing away at the deep woods behind them. Her +mother gazed wistfully at Sally and said nothing either. And Fox +looked at them and was as silent as they. Some one came up and +exchanged a few words with Fox and went away again; but neither Mrs. +Ladue nor Sally said anything. Sally was still gazing off at the +woods and seemed to be unaware of any new presence. + +"Sally," said Fox. + +She turned and looked at him, but still she said nothing. + +"Didn't you know who that was?" + +She shook her head. "Who what was?" + +"The man who spoke to me? But I suppose you didn't know that anybody +spoke to me. It was Horry Carling." + +"Oh, was it?" She did not seem interested. + +"He seemed to want to speak to you." + +"Well, why didn't he?" + +"Probably because you didn't seem to see him. Is there anything the +matter, Sally?" + +Sally smiled very slightly and very soberly. "Nothing much. Nothing +worth mentioning." + +They relapsed into silence again, but after a while Sally spoke. + +"Would you--would you be much disappointed, Fox," she asked, without +looking at him, "if I gave up teaching? Would it seem as if I were +throwing away all these years of preparation?" + +"No," he answered, meeting her serious mood, "I don't see that it +would. And I don't see that it matters to anybody but yourself just +when you give it up. There is no reason, now, for your keeping on with +it unless you want to. You will have to give it up soon anyway." + +Sally looked up at him quickly. "Why, Fox? Why will I have to?" + +Fox evaded this question for the time, at any rate. "Why have you +thought of giving it up now, Sally? Do the poor kids prove too +trying?" + +Sally nodded. "I am ashamed of it. I'm not fitted for it. I haven't +patience enough--with stupidity. But what did you mean by saying that +I would have to give it up soon?" + +"Why," Fox replied, casting an embarrassed glance in Mrs. Ladue's +direction, "when you are married, you know--" + +"Oh," Sally cried with a quick and vivid blush--a rush of blood to the +head, no less,--"oh, but I shan't. I never shall." + +Mrs. Ladue appeared to think it a fitting time to slip away quietly. + +"I didn't mean," Sally went on rapidly, "to be idle. I--well, to tell +you a secret, Fox, one that I didn't mean to tell yet--I have an +idea." + +"Behold me suitably surprised! Sally has an idea!" + +Sally chuckled, which represented the height of Fox's ambition for the +moment. "Don't make fun of me, or I won't tell you what it is." + +"I am most seriously inclined, Sally. And a bank safe--or a strong +box--is not so secret as I am. You observe that I do not use the +ancient simile of the grave. There are many things that keep a secret +better than a grave. I am listening." + +With that, he inclined his head toward her. + +"I might box your ear instead of telling you," said Sally lightly, +"but I won't. You know," she continued, hesitating a little, "that +Uncle John's business has been--well, just kept alive, until they +should decide what to do with it." + +Fox nodded, wondering what she was coming at. + +"And I was in Uncle John's office every day for years. I got much +interested. And I--I believe that I could do something with it, Fox, +after I had served my apprenticeship at it. I think I should like to +try. The clerks and things--the machinery of the business--are there." +Fox wondered what the clerks and things would have thought of it. "I +wish I had spoken to Dick about it. He'll be away, now, for a month. +But I could write to him, couldn't I? I will." + +"There is a good deal in this idea of yours, Sally," was Fox's only +comment. He was looking at her with a little smile of amusement. +"Don't you want to vote?" he asked abruptly. + +"No, I don't," she answered as abruptly. "But I thought that it would +be a great pity to let an old established business just vanish. And +they all seem so proud of it. And perhaps Charlie could get into it +when he is through college. At least, if he was disposed to, it +would--it might give us--mother and me--some control over him again. +Don't you think so, Fox?" + +Fox shook his head gravely. "I don't know, Sally. The idea strikes me +as a good one; a good one for you. I think I should go rather slow +about Charlie." + +"Well--" Sally turned. "It is a secret, you know, Fox." + +"Between you and me, Sally," Fox returned gently. + +Sally returned to her contemplation of the woods. She seemed to note +something. + +"I believe," she said suddenly, "that those trees are good to climb." + +"Why," said Fox, smiling, "I believe they are." + +"Will you--" Sally began brightly; then she seemed to change her mind +and she changed her question accordingly. + +"Won't you keep this house open? It is a pity not to." + +"Keep the house open?" Fox repeated, puzzled. + +"Why, yes," she replied. "Don't you remember that you said--or +intimated--that you were going to get married?" + +Fox laughed. "I believe I did," he answered, "on a certain occasion. I +believe I am, although I can't say exactly when it will be." + +"I think, Fox," said Sally, turning to him and speaking with emphasis, +"that we are old enough friends for you to--you might tell me who the +girl is. I should like to congratulate her." + +"You shall know, Sally, I promise you. I wouldn't even get engaged +without your knowledge." + +"Oh," said Sally then, brightening unconsciously, "then she hasn't +given her answer yet?" + +Fox had hard work to keep from laughing, but he did. + +"Not yet," he said. + +"It seems to me she takes her time about it," Sally observed. + +"Should she give me her answer before she is asked?" + +"Oh!" Sally cried. "So you haven't even asked her! Well, I think +you're a slow poke." + +"Do you?" Fox said slowly. "Do you? Well, perhaps I am. Perhaps I am. +It had not occurred to me. I'll think it over." + +"And Margaret--" said Sally. + +"Margaret!" Fox interrupted, mystified. + +"Considering the imminence of the--the catastrophe," Sally went on, +smiling a little, "it might be just as well to climb while I have the +chance." + +"Now?" + +Sally looked around. The crowd was thinning, but it was still a crowd. + +"Perhaps not now. But on the first opportunity." + +"There'll be a good many opportunities. Even after--" + +Sally shook her head. "I couldn't come here, you know, and climb +trees. Only think what Margaret would say--and think!" + +"Margaret!" Fox exclaimed again. "Why, I don't remember intimating +anything about--" + +"Oh, Doctor Sanderson," cried a high and quavering voice; the voice of +Miss Patty Havering Hazen, "here you are at last! I have been looking +everywhere." + +Ah! Doctor Sanderson; you are saved again! Good for you, Patty! Good +on your head! But is it possible that the doctor did not want to be +saved? Did we hear aright? + +"Damn!" observed Doctor Sanderson quietly. It was a heartfelt +observation made for his own satisfaction, so far as a mere remark +could accomplish that desirable end, and was intended, we may be sure, +for no other ears than his own. But Sally heard it and chuckled. + +Yes, good for you, Patty! There is no knowing what he might have been +led into saying if he had not been interrupted at this point; what +unwise course he might have pursued. You were just in time, Patty, to +save him from his folly. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +That old office from whose windows one could see the rows of oil casks +and the fence of old ships' sheathing and the black dust of the road +and the yards of vessels--that old office which had been sleeping for +something more than a year--that old office which had been left behind +when the business centre of Whitby began to move uptown, so many years +ago--that old office, as I started to say at the beginning, was waking +up again. + +One hot morning in early August, Horry Carling stood at the window, +his hands thrust deep into his pockets, and he gazed at a row of oil +casks; gazed thoughtfully and for a long time. Then a smile began to +curl the corners of his mouth. Presently he chuckled. + +"I s--s--say, O--Ol--lie, c--c--come here; th--that is, if--f--f +S--S--Sally c--can s--s--spare you." + +Sally looked up from her papers. Her hair was in a pretty disorder; in +a disorder that was very attractive, indeed, being somewhat rumpled in +the front and running over with little ringlets, formed by the heat +and the dampness, at her forehead and by the sides of her ears and +down at her neck. She was busy, but she was interested and she was +happy, for which I, for one, am thankful. She brushed the ringlets out +of her eyes, impatiently, and smiled. + +"Go ahead, Ollie," she said. "What is it, Horry?" + +"O--only a r--r--row of b--b--bar--r--rels," he replied. Ollie Pilcher +was standing at his elbow now, looking over his shoulder. "D--d--do +y--y--you rem--em--mmb--ber th--that r--r--row?" Horry asked. +"M--m--might b--b--be the th--the v--v--very s--same b--b--b--barrels." + +Ollie burst out laughing. He did remember. "How long ago was that, +Horry?" + +"S--s--sev--ven years," he answered. "Ab--b--bout th--this t--t--time +o' y--year, w--w--wasn't it?" + +Ollie nodded. + +"Oh," Sally cried, "I remember that, too." + +Horry turned. "Y--y--you d--do!" he spluttered in surprise. +"Wh--wh--where w--w--were y--you?" + +"Sitting at that very window," she returned. "Uncle John saw it, +too,--some of it." + +Horry chuckled again. "Y--y--your Un--n--cle"--here he winked and gave +a peculiar twitch to his eyebrows, as though that last syllable hurt +him--"J--J--John w--was a b--brick, S--S--Sally." + +"He was, Horry. You don't know what a brick he was." She sighed +lightly and then she laughed. "Whatever did you do with your jacket?" + +"M--m--most s--set th--the h--house af--f--fire w--with it. I--it +w--w--was a p--pretty n--n--new j--j--j--th--there!--c--coat, and +m--m--moth--ther c--c--couldn't b--b--bear to th--throw it aw--w--way, +s--so sh--sh--she k--k--kept it l--lying ar--r--round 'n--n--ntil +w--w--winter. Th--then sh--she t--t--told m--me t--to p--p--put it +in--n--to th--the f--f--furnace. M--m--most s--set th--the h--house +af--f--f--fire. F--f--full o' o--o--oil, y' kn--n--now. H--h--hor--rid +sm--sm--smoke." + +Ollie and Sally were chuckling in little bursts. + +Horry sighed. "Th--those t--t--times w--were f--f--fun, th--though," +he said; "g--great--t--test f--f--fun th--that e--ever w--was. +N--never c--c--come ag--g--gain, w--will th--they, Ol--Ollie?" + +"Oh," Ollie replied lazily, grinning, "I don't know. I'd like to run +'em again, right now." + +"You boys had better not," Sally remarked, with a shake of the head. +"Those barrels belong to the firm, you know. You'd be the losers, as +well as I--and the Hazen Estate." + +"'T--t w--w--would b--be m--m--more f--f--fun th--than s--some +th--things I kn--n--now ab--b--bout," Horry observed cryptically, +"an' l--l--less ex--x--xpen--s--sive." + +Ollie looked at him and they both grinned and went back to their +desks. + +As may have been inferred, Horry Carling and Ollie Pilcher were, if +not members of the firm of John Hazen, Inc., at least stockholders. +Harry Carling would have liked to enter the Law School; but being +debarred, for obvious reasons, from practising law, he had chosen +engineering. Which, it may be remarked in passing, having been chosen +rather from reasons of expedience than because he had any natural +taste or aptitude in that direction, may not have been a wise choice. +Horry, who had gone into what he liked the best and wanted the most, +stood a much better chance of making a success of his life. Had not +his grandfather been a great ship captain almost all the days of his +life? And Ollie's grandfather, too? It was in their blood. If the salt +is in a man's blood--or a boy's--it must come out, sooner or later, or +engender a ferment which will trouble that man as long as he lives. +And Horry and Ollie, having the natural taste for what they were doing +and having had a pretty fair training for it all through their +boyhood, fitted into the new firm of John Hazen, Inc., like new parts +into a machine. It needed only a little polishing by wear for that +machine to run as smoothly as it had been running for fifty years. + +Sally worked hard at her new business. She had compounded with her +conscience by not giving up her teaching yet--definitely. She would +teach one more year, at least. Then, she said to herself, if she still +felt as she did now, it would not be right for her to keep on with it. +Meanwhile, she would have some time every afternoon, and, with Horry +and Ollie,--really, it was going pretty well, much better than she had +sometimes feared. And at this point she would sigh and smile and fall +to looking out of the window at the yards of the ships--_her_ ships, +she liked to think, although, of course, they were not all hers, but +they belonged to the stockholders in John Hazen, Inc., according to +their holdings, and that list included Patty and Dick and Horry +Carling and Ollie Pilcher and some others; but she liked to look out +at the vessels and imagine that they were all hers. And she saw the +rows of oil-barrels and the black dust of the road, which was kept +pretty well stirred up by the feet of the horses which dragged the +heavy trucks in an almost continuous procession. At any rate, she +could call the dust hers,--if she wanted to,--for it would not have +been stirred up if it had not been for her, but would have lain +quietly there until it ceased to be dust at all and became no more +than the surface of a street that was almost abandoned; baked hard by +the sun and gullied by the rain and somewhat grass-grown. Then she +would laugh and decide that she did not want the dust anyway; she had +quite enough of that. As for her method of compounding with her +conscience, it pleased her better than it pleased Mr. MacDalie, who +did not share her misgivings. + +Sally's efforts were not enough to induce Charlie to spend his +vacation slaving in an office. Every one might not call the occupation +of Horry and Ollie slaving. Sally mildly suggested that view of the +matter. + +"If I owned some stock in it, the matter would have a different +aspect, no doubt," Charlie replied sarcastically. "As it is, I should +be nothing but a clerk." + +He was lucky to have the chance to start with that, Sally pointed out. +It was possible that he was not fitted to be more than office boy. + +With this shot, which may have been unduly hard upon Charlie, Sally +turned away. Charlie, at any rate, thought it unduly hard, and felt +much injured. Sally was always hard on him; unfair. What could she +know against him? And, having procured a horse at a livery +stable,--the liveliest young horse they had, with the most stylish +rig, which, by the way, Sally would have the privilege of paying +for,--Charlie took his way out to Doctor Sanderson's to see Patty and +to be consoled and, incidentally, with the secret hope that Patty had +a few dollars to spare for a deserving and much misunderstood boy. For +Patty managed to save up a few dollars for that purpose now and then, +although Dick had greatly curtailed her sources of supply. No, they +were _his_ sources of supply which had been curtailed by Dick, Charlie +said to himself. Damn Dick anyway! What right had he to do such a +thing? Where should he, Charlie, get money in time of need? Where +should he, indeed? Damn Dick! And Charlie gave the lively young horse +a cut with the whip, as if the horse were responsible. The lively +young horse resented cuts with the whip and proceeded to run; which +gave Charlie so much occupation that he forgot, for the moment, about +Dick. + +Charlie was getting more and more into the habit of getting rigs at +the livery stable, as the summer went on,--rigs which were invariably +charged to Sally, she having made no objection to previous charges of +a like nature--and of going out to see Patty. Doctor Sanderson's place +was so indecently far out anyway that you had to have a horse or an +automobile. He couldn't be expected to walk it, and, of course, he had +to see Patty occasionally. You wouldn't have him so ungrateful as not +to go to see her at all, would you? He supposed Sally would have to +pay for the rigs, for _he_ hadn't any of Uncle John's money, had he? +The fact that this was not strictly true did not seem to occur to him; +and the fact that Patty had put the stout horse at his disposal made +no difference, so far as the livery stable was concerned. +They--meaning Sally--might consider themselves lucky that he did not +get an automobile to make the journey of two miles and a half. He +couldn't be expected to drive a horse that was thirty years old and +was only fit for the bone-yard, now, could he? You could make it in +five minutes with an auto and he thought that they--meaning Sally +again--might save money if he did get one. Of course he wasn't going +to. He would defer to their absurd prejudice on that point. And more +to the same effect. + +It was no wonder that Sally turned away without speaking. She was +afraid to answer; afraid of what she might be led to say. And she +would go down to the office and sit looking out of the window and +wondering what was to become of Charlie and what she could do about +it; wondering what it was that he did in college that it seemed to +have such an unfortunate influence on him; wondering whether it would +not be better for him, after all, to come out and be made to go to +work. She almost decided that it would. Then she remembered that she +had not the only word to say about that. There were others who would +have something to say and the attempt would raise a storm. Sally was +not afraid of storms, but--well--and she would look up to find Horry +staring at her as if he wanted to tell her something. + +"What is it, Horry?" she would ask, smiling. + +Horry would be distinctly embarrassed. He always was: and he always +made the same reply. "N--no--noth--th-thing, S--S--Sally," he would +say, with a sigh. "I--i--it's n--n--noth--th--thing, o--only I +h--h--hate t--to s--s--see you s--so b--b--both--thered ab--b--b--bout +an--n--nyth--th--thing. Ch--er--n--n--nob--body's wo--worth it." + +That was as much as she could get out of him, although, to tell the +truth, she did not try very hard. She only asked her question for his +sake, he seemed to want so much to tell something. It did not occur to +her that what Horry wanted to say he wanted to say for her sake; and +it was for her sake that he did not say it, although it trembled on +the very tip of his tongue. Perhaps it trembled too much. Perhaps, if +he had found speaking an easier matter, he would have told what he +seemed to be on the point of telling. + +Toward the last of August, Henrietta and Dick came back. Henrietta, of +course, did not have much time, but she did manage to come and see +Sally at the office, one afternoon, on which occasion she completely +upset the business of John Hazen, Inc., and all the members of the +firm, both present and prospective, fluttered about her and gave her +their undivided attention. Naturally, this state of affairs pleased +Henrietta, but it embarrassed her, too, for you can't--or a girl who +has been recently married can't--speak out freely concerning the +secrets which burden her bosom before two unmarried young +fellows,--not that the fact of their being unmarried made any +difference, of course,--but before two young fellows whom she had +never seen before in her life. But Henrietta made an effort to see +Sally alone, and on the occasion of that effort, which was successful, +she talked a steady stream about Dick, to all of which Sally assented +with a smile and with as much enthusiasm as even Henrietta could wish. + +"And, you know, Sally," she said at the end of this eulogium--and +otherwise, "you know, we are in a difficulty now. It is not a very +great difficulty and yet it is, too. We don't know where to live." + +"How terrible!" said Sally. + +"There are so few houses that are--well, dignified enough; suited to +Dick's position, you know." + +"Why don't you build?" + +"We might, of course, but that would take a long time, and--and, to +tell the truth, I've set my--we have set our hearts on an old house; +not too old, you know." + +"I see," said Sally; "just old enough." + +"Exactly," Henrietta agreed. "Just old enough. Now there's Miss +Patty's house. It's restored and the work's done." + +"Well?" + +"And Miss Patty doesn't seem inclined to live in it. She doesn't like +to leave Fox's. I saw her and spoke about it, and she said so." + +"Well, then, where is the difficulty? Patty's house is a very +pleasant, homelike house. I judge that it is just old enough. Can't +you rent it?" + +"No," said Henrietta in accents of despair. "Patty won't rent it. She +says she may want to go back at any minute. She said she'd be glad to +oblige me, as Doctor Sanderson's sister, but my being Mr. +Torrington's wife changes the aspect of the matter. She seems to have +some grudge against Dick." + +Sally laughed. "That isn't so strange. Knowing Patty, I should think +you'd better give up the idea for the present." + +"That's just it," Henrietta replied hastily. "For the present. That +makes it unwise for us to build, when we may be able to get that house +at any time almost. Of course, Dick must not seem to force Miss Patty +in any way. He had to use his authority under the will, you know. Mr. +Hazen would have expected him to and would have _wished_ him to, or +why should he have made his will that way? He _had_ to--Dick, I mean, +of course--Dick simply _had_ to, don't you see, Sally, when he found +that Patty had been using all that money and she wouldn't tell what +she had used it for--wouldn't give a hint, you know. Dick only wanted +a hint, so that he could keep his accounts straight, or something of +that sort. It wasn't evident at all that Patty had used it for +herself--Oh!" And Henrietta suddenly clapped her hand over her pretty +mouth. "Have I been telling secrets, Sally? Have I?" She looked rather +scared, as people were apt to be in any matter which concerned Sally, +though I can't see why. Sally was as mild as a lamb in such cases. + +She was mild now, but she was gazing at Henrietta with solemn and +serious eyes, as if she had discovered a new country. + +"I don't know, Henrietta," she replied, "whether you are telling +secrets or not. What you were telling was news to me. If you are in +any doubt about it, I should think you'd better not tell any more. But +you can see why Patty is not inclined to do any favor for Dick." + +"Well," returned Henrietta slowly--slowly for her, "I suppose I can, +although _I_ think that Dick is doing her the _greatest_ favor. As far +as her house is concerned, Dick might feel at liberty to rent to any +one else, but not to himself. I'm sure I hope he won't rent to anybody +else, whatever he does or Patty doesn't do. He ought not to do +anything that could be considered dishonorable, of course, but I +can't quite see why this would be. But he simply won't." + +"No," said Sally. "I should expect that of Dick." + +"There doesn't seem to be anything to do about it," Henrietta +continued, "unless--unless," she suggested with hesitation, "you would +see Patty, Sally." + +Sally smiled with amusement. "Of course I will if you want me to, +Henrietta. But I'm not the one to make a successful emissary to Patty. +I'm not in favor any more than Dick. You'd much better make up to +Charlie if you want anything of Patty; much better." + +"That seems to be a good idea," Henrietta murmured, gazing +thoughtfully at Sally the while, "and easy too. I'll do it." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +Henrietta had no great difficulty in doing it. She made a good +beginning before Charlie went back to college, although she had only a +little more than a fortnight, and she continued her attentions at +frequent intervals thereafter. There was nothing crude about either +Henrietta or her methods. She did not let him suspect her object or, +indeed, that she had an object, and Charlie did not look for one. His +own attractions were enough, goodness knows, to account for any +attentions that might be lavished upon him, and he accepted those +attentions almost as a matter of course. But as attentions and he had +become, to a certain extent, strangers,--always excepting Patty's +attentions, which did not count,--Charlie was very grateful in his +inmost soul and he made the most of them. He came down to Whitby more +often than he had been in the habit of doing and he invariably went to +the Torringtons' at the first possible moment and spent as much time +there as he could. He even developed a certain shyness which was very +becoming. But he avoided Dick. He had a grudge against Dick and he was +resolved not to forget it. Dick had done him an injury. + +He did find himself forgetting that injury, in time. Who, in the face +of Dick's leisurely cordiality and general good nature, could remember +not to forget it? And in time--not so very long a time either--he +perceived that Henrietta had a secret sorrow which gnawed like a worm +at her heart. He set himself the task of pursuing this sorrow and +plucking it out; and--marvel of marvels!--he succeeded in dragging +from the unwilling Henrietta some information as to its nature. We +can, perhaps, imagine the reluctance with which this information was +given. + +Charlie, although he may have been secretly disappointed that +Henrietta's sorrow was not more serious,--he may have thought that it +was of no less import than that she had found, too late, that she +loved another man better than she did her husband,--Charlie, I say, +although he may have been disappointed, managed to conceal whatever of +disappointment he felt. + +"Oh," he said magnanimously and with sufficient indifference, "don't +you worry about that. I can fix that. I'll just speak to Patty about +it the very next time I go out there." + +He did; and he reported to Henrietta that he had prevailed upon Patty +to consent to any arrangement she liked. He had also prevailed upon +Patty--not reported to Henrietta--to scrape together as many dollars +as she could conveniently manage to scrape--conveniently or +inconveniently, it was all one to Charlie--and to hand them over to +him for some purpose. It really does not matter what the purpose was. +Charlie was very fertile in invention, and if it was not one thing it +was another. Any excuse was good enough. But the strain was telling +upon Patty. Charlie should have been more careful. + +Henrietta was so pleased with the report that she redoubled her +attentions. This may not have been wise, but there seems to be no +doubt that it was good for Charlie, on the whole. He went in to number +seven but once before Christmas, and there might have been some ground +for hope that, between Henrietta's attentions and his devotion to +automobiles, he might be induced to give it up altogether. Harry +Carling, who was keeping as close a watch upon Charlie as he could, +hoped so, at all events. + +For Charlie, in his sophomore year, ran to motor cars. Indulgence of a +fine fancy for motors is apt to be expensive, as Patty was finding +out, but it is not as expensive as Charlie's one other diversion is +apt to be, on occasion. That his one experience of it, in his first +term, was not more expensive must be set down solely to luck. + +Automobiles were bad enough, as a diversion, for a boy who could +afford them no better than Charlie Ladue. Patty learned of them with +horror. She had hoped, fondly, that Charlie had given them up after +his experience with them only last Easter; oh, she _hoped_ he had. She +said it with tears in her eyes and with an agonized expression that +would have melted a heart less hard than Charlie's. But Charlie merely +smiled. That phantom car had done him no harm, although he did not +call it a phantom car to Patty. Motor cars were not for the Hazens; +not for people of the older régime. And Charlie smiled again and +remarked that they might not have come to motors yet, but they would. +Patty said, with some spirit, that they were vulgar and that +they--they had a bad smell. For her part, she was satisfied to go no +faster than nature intended. The horse, as Charlie might be aware, was +the fastest animal that goes. + +Having delivered this shot with evident pride, Patty sat back in her +chair and waited to see if Charlie would be able to make any reply. +She considered that last argument unanswerable. Charlie apparently did +not. He observed that Pat's horse, rising thirty and rather fat, could +hardly be called the fastest animal that goes. He never was very fast. +But he contented himself with that, for Patty had just turned over to +him all the ready money that she could raise and was feeling really +impoverished in consequence. So Charlie, having got what he came for, +took his leave, bidding Pat not to be anxious on his account, for he +wasn't going to get smashed up again--he almost forgot to put in the +"again"--and he wasn't going to spend much money on machines in the +future. They always cost more at first, before you got used to them. +With this comforting assurance, at which poor Patty sighed and said +that she hoped he was right, Charlie went out cheerfully to sit behind +one of the fastest animals that go, and to take the rig, for which +Sally would have to pay, back to the livery stable. + +Nothing in particular happened that winter, except that Dick and +Henrietta moved into Miss Patty's house early in February. Patty was +getting to be considered--and to consider herself--one of Doctor +Sanderson's patients. And the Retreat was filling up and she did not +want to give up her comfortable room, with the probable chance that +she would be unable to get it again when she came back. In fact, it +looked as if anybody had better hold on to what she had at Doctor +Sanderson's. + +So Sally saw but little of Fox that winter. They were both very busy, +and Sally had her hands and her head full, with the office and her +school, too. But she liked the office in spite of the work which, +between you and me, was not very hard. There was a good deal of it, +but it was interesting and Sally went home at night, tired and happy +and with her head full of schemes. Sometimes Everett was waiting for +her. She did not know whether she liked that or not, but there did not +seem to be reason enough for sending him away. She did not quite know +what her relations were with Everett; friendly, she hoped, no more. +For there was a difference between Sally's state of mind now and her +state of mind the year before. She was not indifferent now, she was +happy and things mattered in a wholesome way. But Sally knew that Fox +had not opened the cream-colored house again; not since Henrietta's +wedding. He had not even made any preparations to open it. Sally was +watching that house, out of the corner of her eye, and she knew. What +an old slow poke he was, wasn't he? The winter was gone before she +knew it and it was almost Easter. Then, one afternoon, Charlie made +his appearance, suddenly and unexpectedly, and went up to see +Henrietta almost immediately. + +Sally was vaguely worried by this sudden appearance of Charlie, she +could not tell why. She had felt, all along, a great relief that he +had taken so readily to the Henrietta treatment and she had felt some +surprise at it. Having worried about it for an hour, she put it aside. +It would be time enough to worry when she knew there was something to +worry about. When that time did come, she would not have time to +worry, for she would probably be too busy doing something about it. +It was inaction that worried Sally, which is the case with most of us. +At any rate, Charlie was all right for the present. He had only gone +up to Henrietta's. Then Harry Carling came in: "J--j--just c--c--came +d--d--down t--to s--s--see H--H--Ho--orry, y--y--you kn--n--now, +S--S--Sally, f--f--for a m--m--min--n--nute." And Sally smiled and +shook hands with Harry and hastened to say--to save Horry the painful +experience of mentioning the matter--that he could go whenever he +wanted to, so far as she knew. And they went out together. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +John Upjohn Junior ran into the house just in time for supper. He was +so excited and his entrance was so precipitate that he almost collided +with his mother, who had just reached the foot of the stairs; and only +by the exercise of almost superhuman agility he managed to avoid that +catastrophe. It was just as well, for many reasons; the reason which +influenced John Junior being that such an accident was likely to +result, then and thereafter, in more damage to himself than to his +mother. + +He flung his cap down on the hall table with such violence that it +slid off and fell upon the floor; but he could not pick it up at the +moment because he was engaged in shedding his overcoat, which +immediately slipped off of his arms upon a chair. He began to speak at +once. + +"M--m--m--moth--ther!" he exclaimed explosively. "I--I--'v--ve--darn +it all!" + +Mrs. Upjohn rebuked her offspring mildly. "John, what is the matter +with you? Is your name Carling, that you can't speak without +stuttering so? And I should think you would do well to moderate your +language, at any rate when you speak to your mother. And you must +learn to come into the house less like a tornado. Come in quietly, +like a gentleman." + +John Junior gave a contemptuous grunt. "J--just been h--hearing the +Carlings talking. That's wh--why I can't talk 'n' wh--why I +st--st--stut--t--ter so. Gosh darn it! I mean hang it!" + +"Pick up your cap, John," Mrs. Upjohn commanded sternly. "And hang it, +if you will." This pun of Mrs. Upjohn's somewhat softened her stern +command. She could not help smiling. + +John kicked his cap out from behind the table and, picking it up, +threw it at the hat-rack, where it happened to catch and stick. He +began again. + +"I--I--I'v--ve g--g--got s--s--s--" + +"Suppose you go up and wash your face and hands," Mrs. Upjohn +suggested, "and come down to supper. The bell rang before you came in. +When you come down you may be able to talk intelligibly." + +So John Junior rushed upstairs and, after an incredibly short period, +during which we must suppose that he went through some sort of an +operation which he regarded as sufficient, he appeared again, slid +down the balusters like lightning, landed at the bottom with an +appalling thump, and ran into the dining-room. + +"Guess I can talk now," he announced, taking his chair by the back and +sliding it under him. "I was hurrying home, so's not to be late to +supper, when I came up behind the Carlings. They--Letty ain't here, is +she?" he added, looking about doubtfully. + +"No," Mrs. Upjohn replied. "You know that Letty won't come again for +more than a month." + +"Huh!" growled John Junior. "She will if she feels like it. Never can +tell when she'll be here. She's always here." + +Mrs. Upjohn was a little slow about taking anything in. She had been +puzzling over John's former speech and had just the full import of it. + +"Did you say the Carlings, John?" she asked. "I don't see how that can +be, for Harry's in Cambridge." + +"He ain't either," John replied amiably. "Don't you s'pose I'd know +those freaks? I guess I would." + +"Well," said Mrs. Upjohn doubtfully. + +"And they were talking together," John continued, "or trying to talk. +They didn't know I was behind 'em, and I kept still as I could so's I +could hear what they said. They ought to have an interpreter. But I +got most of it, and then I slid out for fear they'd see me. What d'you +s'pose they were talking about?" + +"I'm sure I don't know," said Mrs. Upjohn curiously. + +"What?" + +John kept his mother in suspense while he disposed of his mouthful. He +swallowed twice, then took a drink of water. At last he was ready and +he looked at his mother, suspending operations for that purpose. + +"Charlie Ladue's a gambler," he announced abruptly. + +"What!" Mrs. Upjohn exclaimed. But she was pleased in spite of +herself. What would Letty say to that? "Are you sure you heard it +right?" + +"'Course I'm sure." + +"Well, John, I'm grieved to hear it. You must be careful not to talk +about it." + +"'Course I won't talk about it. I'll stop now if you want me to." + +"No," said Mrs. Upjohn judicially. "No, I think you ought to tell me +all you heard. How long has it been going on and where does Charlie +go?" + +So John Junior retailed at some length all that he had heard, rather +to the neglect of his supper. Certain important details were lacking +and he had to fill them in from his imaginings, which were rather +defective as to the points under discussion. + +"Well," said Mrs. Upjohn, when the recital and the supper were both +finished, "I think somebody ought to be told. I don't just like to +tell Sally, but she ought to know." + +"They didn't want to tell Sally either. Horry Carling's in her office +and he could tell her easy enough if he wanted to." + +"That's so," Mrs. Upjohn agreed. "I guess I'll tell Patty. I have a +pretty good idea where Charlie's money came from. Patty won't thank +me, but somebody ought to open her eyes. I'll go out there to-morrow. +I wonder if I couldn't find somebody who's going out. You look around, +early to-morrow, before school, and see if you can't find somebody +that's going and send him up here. There's no need to hire a horse, +for that." + +Accordingly the grocer's delivery wagon stopped at the house the next +forenoon, and the boy asked for Mrs. Upjohn. That lady came to the +door, looking a little puzzled. It seemed that John had-- + +Mrs. Upjohn laughed. "And he's gone to school," she said. "I didn't +mean that he should ask you." She laughed again. "But I don't know why +I shouldn't go in a grocery wagon. It's perfectly respectable." + +"Yes, ma'am," the boy replied, grinning. "And it's a very nice wagon, +almost new, and it's very comfortable." + +Patty was sitting at her window when the grocer's wagon stopped at the +door and Mrs. Upjohn got out. + +"Mercy on us!" Patty exclaimed. "If there isn't Alicia Upjohn! She'll +break her neck. Come in a grocer's wagon! Alicia was always queer, but +there is a point beyond which--yes, there _is_ a point beyond which +she should not allow herself to go." And Miss Patty gasped faintly and +leaned back, and in a few minutes she heard Mrs. Upjohn at her door. + +That interview was painful to Patty, at least. Mrs. Upjohn was rather +pressed for time, as the grocer's boy could not wait more than fifteen +minutes. It is a little difficult to break unwelcome news gently in +fifteen minutes. It might have been difficult to break this particular +news, which was very unwelcome, even if there had been no time limit +set by a grocer's boy. But within ten minutes Mrs. Upjohn had Patty in +tears and protesting her belief in Charlie's innocence and exhibiting +all her characteristic obstinacy in the face of proof. Had not Charlie +been there that very morning to see her? He had just left, indeed, and +he had been as loving as the most exacting of doting aunts could wish. +Didn't Alicia suppose that she, Patty, would be able to detect any +signs of wrong-doing on his part? At which Alicia smiled and made a +reply which made Patty almost frantic and within the five minutes +which remained Patty had told Alicia that she would do well to mind +her own business and she wished she would go and never come near her +again. So, the fifteen minutes being almost up, Alicia went, with +what dignity she could summon. She met Doctor Beatty in the lower hall +and told him that he had better see to Patty, who seemed beside +herself. He went at once; and Mrs. Upjohn seized that opportunity to +climb into her seat beside the grocer's boy. + +Doctor Beatty was with Patty a long time and used every art he had--he +hadn't many, but he used all he had with a degree of patience that was +surprising--to quiet Patty, who needed quieting if ever anybody did. +He was more alarmed by that disturbance of Patty's than he would have +acknowledged; more than he had expected, he found, although he had +been in daily expectation of something of the kind. + +He found her muttering to herself and exclaiming brokenly. She looked +at him with wild eyes. "Go away!" she cried as he entered. "He's not, +I tell you. He never did!" + +"No," Doctor Beatty agreed calmly. "Certainly not. But there! You +don't want me to go away, Patty." He pulled up a chair and sat down. + +"Not that chair!" she cried. "Not that chair! That's the chair she sat +in--Alicia Upjohn. If you sit in it you'll say so, too. Take any +other, but not that one." + +"Oh, very well," he said. And he drew up another chair and sat down. +"Now, tell me what's the matter." + +At this Patty began to weep violently. Her sentences were broken, and +now and then she gave a loud cry that seemed to be wrung from her +heart. + +"Alicia oughtn't to have said it. She might have known how--that +I--how I would f-f--Oh!" She could not speak for a moment. "She just +wanted me to think that that was where my money went. She's a spiteful +thing. Oh, how could she? How could she? Cruel! Cruel!" Patty fell to +weeping again. She seemed to lose all control over herself. She rocked +to and fro and leaned so far over, in her new fit of crying, that +Doctor Beatty put out his hand to save her from falling. He was glad +to have her cry so. + +She seized his hand and pressed it and looked up at him appealingly, +her eyes raining tears. "Oh, Meriwether," she sobbed, "you don't think +he does, do you? Tell me that you don't." + +He looked down into those faded eyes. "Certainly I don't, Patty," he +answered gently. Out of the pity which he felt for her, he may have +pressed her hand a little. He had but the faintest idea what she was +talking about. + +Patty flushed and relaxed her hold upon his hand. "You are a +c-c-comfort, Meriwether," she said more calmly. "It is a great deal to +know that I have one friend, at least, who understands me. I--I--have +so few, Meriwether!" She began to sob again. "S-so f-f-few, and I used +to have so so many!" + +"Cry quietly as much as you like, Patty. It will do you good." + +He made a slight movement, at which Patty cried out. + +"Don't go! Don't go yet!" She put out her hand blindly, as if to stop +him. + +"I'll stay until you are yourself again. Never fear." He sighed +faintly. + +It was a new rôle for Doctor Beatty, but he played it better than +would have been expected. Patty turned to the window and he heard the +sound of sobbing steadily for some time. At last the sound ceased. She +was sitting with her chin resting on her hand, which held her wet +handkerchief crumpled up into a tight ball; and she was looking out +through her tears, but seeing nothing, and she seemed to have +difficulty in breathing. + +"He's such a good boy--to me!" she said, without turning. "Such a good +boy! I am so fond of him that it almost breaks my heart to have +anybody say--say such things. How can they? How can they have the +heart?" She gave a single sob. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +Sally sat by her window in the office of John Hazen, Inc., looking +absently out of it. Doctor Beatty was talking to her earnestly, in low +tones, and she was serious and sober, listening intently. + +"Mrs. Upjohn," he was saying,--"thrifty soul!--came out to Sanderson's +this morning with the grocer's boy"--Sally chuckled suddenly, in spite +of her seriousness, but stopped as suddenly--"and went up to see +Patty. I'd like," he interrupted himself to say emphatically, "to see +every visitor of suspicious character required to show cause for +seeing the patients. Yes," he nodded in reply to a questioning look of +Sally's, "Patty is a patient. There's no doubt about that, I'm afraid. +And Mrs. Upjohn is a suspicious character. There is no doubt about +that either. Oh, yes, well-meaning, perhaps; even probably. But she +should not have been allowed to see Patty. I consider Patty's +condition--er--ticklish. Distinctly ticklish." + +Sally was surprised. "What do you mean? How is her condition +ticklish?" + +"Mentally," he replied. + +Sally turned to Doctor Beatty with a start and looked him straight in +the eyes. She wanted to see just what he meant. Then she shuddered. + +"I hope not," she said. + +"Well, we won't think of it. We are doing our best. But Mrs. Upjohn +succeeded in upsetting her completely in a very few minutes. I was +afraid, at first, that the mischief was done. Oh, it wasn't. She came +back all right. I couldn't make her tell me what Mrs. Upjohn had said, +but, picking up a thread here and there, I judged that Charlie had +been misbehaving himself somehow. I couldn't find out just how. I am +sorry to add another log to your load, Sally, but I thought that you +would be glad to be told of what seems to be common report. I know +that I would." + +"I am," she said. "I'm glad and sorry, too. But I'm greatly obliged to +you." She was silent for some little time, looking out and thinking +hard. "Do you know what kind of misbehavior it is?" she asked. "I'm +pretty familiar with several kinds," she added, with a hard little +laugh. "Don't be afraid to tell me the truth if you know it." + +Doctor Beatty shook his head. "I don't know it. It seems to be +connected with Patty's money." + +"I have been afraid of it, but it has been impossible to get hold of +anything definite," replied Sally gravely. "Even you aren't telling me +anything definite, although I believe you would if you knew it." + +He nodded. "You may be sure I would, Sally." + +"It is really curious how hard it is for people to find out what +concerns them most nearly," she continued. "Everybody is most +considerate of one's feelings." She gave another hard little laugh. +"I've not much doubt that almost everybody in town, excepting +Charlie's relatives and near friends,--if he has any,--has known of +this for a long time. It would have been the part of kindness to tell +me." + +"If it had been more than mere rumor," Doctor Beatty agreed, "it would +have been. I understand," he went on with a quiet smile, "that that +was Mrs. Upjohn's idea in telling Patty. She considered the rumor +verified. Her motive seems to have been good, but the method adopted +was bad; very bad. It's difficult, at best." + +Sally was silent again for some time. "Poor Patty!" she murmured. +"It's hard on her. If she has lost money in that way I must pay her +back." + +Doctor Beatty made no reply. Sally had not said it to him. + +"I believe," she said, turning to him, "that I know how I can find out +all about it--from a trustworthy source," she added, smiling gravely, +"as Miss Lambkin would put it." + +The doctor muttered impatiently under his breath. Letty Lambkin! But +he had done his errand, for which service Sally thanked him again. + +Doctor Beatty had been gone but a few minutes when Horry Carling came +in. He nodded pleasantly to Sally and was taking off his overcoat. + +"Horry," said Sally suddenly, "what has Charlie been doing?" + +Horry stopped, his coat hanging by the arms and his mouth open, and +looked at her. He was very much startled. + +"Wh--wh--what?" he asked at last. + +"I asked you what Charlie has been doing. What mischief has he been up +to? I am pretty sure he has been misbehaving himself since he has been +in college. How? Has he been in bad company?" + +"W--w--well, y--y--yes," Horry stammered, getting rather red, "I +th--th--think h--he h--h--has." + +"Do you mean women, Horry?" + +Horry's face went furiously red at that question. "N--n--n--no,"--he +was in such a hurry to say it that he was longer than usual about +it,--"n--n--n--noth--th--thing of th--th--that k--k--kind, +th--th--that I kn--n--now of. G--g--g--gam--m--" + +"Gambling, Horry?" Sally asked the question calmly, as if she merely +wanted to know. She did want to know, very much, but not merely. +Knowing was the first step. + +"Y--y--yes," Horry answered. He seemed very much relieved. "H--h--he +has g--g--gam--m--mbled almost ev--v--ver s--s--since h--he's +b--b--been th--th--there," he added. And he went on in as much haste +as he could manage, which was not so very much. Neither he nor Harry +had been in Charlie's confidence. Most of the fellows didn't care a +rap, of course, and didn't pay attention; but--but Harry and he had +cared and--and--they had--and Horry got very red again and stopped in +confusion. + +Sally smiled upon him. "Thank you for caring, Horry," she said +gently. "Was that what you seemed to have on your mind all last +summer? I thought you wanted to tell me something." + +He nodded. + +"I wonder why you didn't. I should have been grateful." + +"C--c--couldn't b--bear to. We d--d--did t--tell D--D--Dick. +C--c--came d--d--down on p--p--purpose. J--j--just b--bef--f--fore he +g--g--got m--married. I s--s--s'pose he f--f--forg--got a--ab--b--bout +it." + +"He must have," sighed Sally. "It isn't like Dick. Now, if you will +tell me all you know, I will promise not to forget about it." + +Accordingly, Horry unburdened his soul of the whole story, so far as +he knew it, and Sally listened in silence, only nodding now and then. +What was there to be said? Horry was grateful for her listening and +for her silence and he stuttered less as he went on. + +"There!" he concluded. "N--now you kn--n--now all I d--do. I'm +p--p--pumped dry, Sally, and I'm g--glad to g--g--get it off my +m--mind." + +"Thank you," said she; and she relapsed into silence and fell to +looking out again. + +Horry sat still, waiting for her to say something more; but she did +not and he got up, at last. + +"If y--you h--have n--noth--th--thing more t--to ask me, S--Sally--" + +Sally turned toward him quickly. "Horry," she said, interrupting him, +"do you know where Charlie goes--to gamble?" It was an effort for her +to say it. + +"Y--yes," he replied, blushing furiously again, but not avoiding her +eyes. "I've b--b--been th--there." + +"Oh, Horry! And aren't you ashamed?" + +"N--n--not es--s--specially. O--only w--w--went once, t--to l--l--look +on, you know. Th--thought I'd l--like to s--see the p--p--place once. +I didn't p--play." Horry shook his head. "I h--haven't g--g--got the +b--bug. Kn--n--new I w--was safe." + +Sally seemed to be puzzled. "The bug? Do you mean--" + +"The f--f--fever, Sally," he answered, laughing at her bewilderment; +"the sickness--disease of ga--ga--gambling. It's j--j--just as much a +dis--s--ease as the small-pox. Or c--con--sumption. Th--that's +b--b--better, bec--c--cause it lasts l--l--onger and it g--gets +w--w--worse and w--worse." + +Sally sighed. "I suppose it is like that. It must be." She looked at +him thoughtfully for so long a time that Horry began to get red once +more and to fidget on his chair. "There must be a cure for it if we +could only find it," she murmured. "Horry," she said suddenly, "do you +suppose Harry would be willing to keep track of Charlie's +movements--without Charlie's knowing, I mean? For a while?" + +"Kn--n--now he w--would." + +"And would he telegraph me when Charlie goes into that place +again--and just as soon as he can find out? I ought to know as early +in the evening as possible--by six or seven o'clock." + +"H--he w--will if he c--c--can f--f--find out in t--t--time. +W--w--wouldn't always b--be s--so easy. I'll t--take c--care of that, +Sally." + +"Thank you. I shall be very grateful to you both." + +Sally went out to Doctor Sanderson's the next afternoon. Fox saw her +coming and went to meet her. + +"How is Patty, Fox?" she asked. She jumped lightly out of the carriage +and stood beside him. + +He seemed distinctly disappointed at the question. "So that is what +you came for," he replied. "I hoped it might have had something to do +with me." He sighed. "Patty's all right, I think. Are you going up to +see her?" + +Sally shook her head. "I came to see you, Fox. I want to ask your +advice." + +"That changes the face of nature," he returned cheerfully. "Will you +come into the office--or anywhere else that you like." + +They went into Fox's office and he got her settled in a chair. +"That's the most generally comfortable chair. It's my consultation +chair. I want my patients to be as comfortable as possible before they +begin." + +Sally laughed a little. "Now, you sit down and put on your +professional expression." + +"It is not difficult to look sympathetic with you, in advance, Sally." + +"It is really a serious matter." She was silent for a moment. "Fox," +she said then abruptly, "Charlie has been gambling." + +"Yes." + +"You aren't surprised?" + +"No." + +"And he has used Patty's money, I don't doubt." + +"Yes." + +"_Fox!_" she cried impatiently. "Did you know all this before? If you +did, I think you might have told me." + +"No," he replied gently, "I did not know it. I only suspected it. You +had as much reason to suspect it as I had." + +Sally shook her head. "I didn't know all the circumstances--about +Patty's money, for instance. I'm afraid she gave it to him. I don't +know how much." + +"Neither do I." + +"I must find out and pay her." She was silent again, leaning her chin +on her hand and gazing at Fox. "How can I find out, Fox?" + +"I hardly know, Sally." He was silent, in his turn. "It's no use to +ask her, I suppose. You might ask Dick how much was--er--unaccounted +for." + +"I might." She nodded with satisfaction. "I will. I shall pay it back. +And I must stop Charlie's gambling. I've got to. I've thought and +thought--for a whole day." She laughed shortly. "I'm no nearer than I +was in half an hour. Oh, Fox, tell me how." + +He was looking at her with a great pity in his eyes. He should have +known better. Sally did not like to be pitied. "It's a problem, +Sally. I'm afraid you may not be able to stop it altogether--or +permanently." + +"I thought it might do if--but, perhaps I'd better not tell anybody +about it until it's done." + +"I commend that idea, in general," Fox replied, smiling, "although a +person should be perfectly frank with her lawyer and her physician. If +I can be of any assistance to you, please remember that nothing would +please me better. Those places are--wouldn't be easy for you to get +into. And, Sally, I should hate to think of your trying it. Can't I do +it?" + +Sally smiled at him in a way that he liked very much. "I have no idea +of trying to get in. And, Fox, how much do you know of those places, +as you call them?" + +"Not much, but I think I could probably get in." + +"Thank you, Fox. There is one thing that you can do and that is to +explain to me why Charlie does it. Or, I suppose I know why he does, +but explain this if you can. Why haven't I the same desire? I am my +father's daughter. Why shouldn't I want to gamble, too, instead of the +very idea of it filling me with disgust?" + +He sat for some time with a half smile on his lips, gazing at Sally +and saying nothing. Sally looked up and caught his eye and looked away +again. + +"Please tell me, Fox," she said. + +"A question of heredity, Sally! Heredity is a subject which I know +very little about. Nobody really knows much about it, for that matter. +A few experiments with peas and guinea-pigs, and, on the other hand, a +great deal of theorizing--which means a man's ideas of what ought to +happen, made to fit; or rather, the cases chosen to fit the ideas. And +neither helps us much when we come to apply them to such a case as +Charlie's. But do you really want me to tell you what I think? I'm no +authority and the whole thing is a matter of guesswork. You might +guess as well as I--or better." + +She nodded. "I should like, very much, to know." + +"Ah, so should I," he said. "If I only _knew_! I don't. But I will do +my best. Well, then, your father had rather a strong character--" + +"Oh, Fox!" she protested. + +"He did," he insisted. "Even you had to give in to him sometimes, and +you are the only one in your family who ever stood up against him--who +ever could have. He was lacking in the sense of right, and he had +depraved tastes, perhaps, but his tastes grew by indulgence. Your +mother--forgive me, Sally--has not as strong a character, in a way, but +her sense of right is strong. Perhaps her traditions are as strong." +There were some things which Fox did not know. If he had known all that +had passed in Mrs. Ladue's heart he might not have spoken so +confidently. "You have your mother's tastes,--irreproachable,--her +sense of right and your father's strength; a very excellent +combination." He laughed gently. "And both strengthened by your early +experience. A fiery furnace," he murmured, "to consume the dross." + +Sally got red and did not seem pleased. "Go on," she said. + +"Charlie got your father's tastes and your mother's lack of strength. +He seems to have no sense of right. He was most unfortunate. He didn't +get a square deal. But his very weakness gives me hope. He will have +to be watched, for he may break away at any time. There was no leading +your father, even in the way he wanted to go. He had to be under +strong compulsion--driven." + +"Did you ever drive him, Fox?" + +"Once," he answered briefly. "It was no fun." + +"I remember the time." She sighed and rose slowly. "Well--" + +Fox rose also. "Had enough of my preaching, Sally? I don't do it often +and I don't wonder you don't like it." + +She smiled at him gravely and gave him her hand. "I'm greatly obliged +to you, Fox. If you can help me I will ask you to. I promise you +that." + +He held her hand much longer than was at all necessary and he gazed +down at her with a longing which he could not hide. Not that he tried; +but she was not looking at him. + +"Promise me something else, Sally." + +Sally glanced up at him in surprise at his voice. "Anything that I can +do, of course," she said. + +The look in his eyes was very tender--and pitying, Sally thought. +"Marry me, Sally. Promise me that." + +It was sudden and unexpected, to be sure, but was there any reason why +the quick tears should have rushed to Sally's eyes and why she should +have looked so reproachfully at him? Ah, Doctor Sanderson, you have +made a mess of it now! Sally withdrew her hand quickly. + +"Oh, Fox!" she cried low, her eyes brimming. "How could you? How could +you?" + +He had hurt her somehow. God knew that he had not meant to. "Why, +Sally," he began, "I only wanted--" + +"That's just it," she said quickly; and she could say no more and she +bit her lip and turned and hurried out, leaving Fox utterly bewildered +and gazing after her as if he were paralyzed. + +Sally almost ran down the walk and, as she ran, she gave one sob. "He +was only sorry for me," she said to herself; "he only pitied me, and I +won't be pitied. He only wanted--to help me bear my burdens. Dear +Fox!" she thought, with a revulsion of feeling. "He is always +so--wanting to help me bear my burdens. Dear Fox! But he _shall_ be +true--to her," she added fiercely. "Does he think I will help him to +be untrue? Oh, Fox, dear!" + +And, biting her lip again, cruelly, she got into the waiting +carriage. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +Mr. Gilfeather's saloon was not on Avenue C, in spite of the fact that +the Licensing Board tried to confine all institutions of the kind to +that historic boulevard. Mr. Gilfeather's saloon, to use his own +words, was a "high-toned and classy place." In consequence of that +fact and perhaps on the condition implied in the term, Mr. Gilfeather +was permitted to conduct his high-toned and classy place on a street +where he would have no competition. It was a little side street, +hardly more than a court, and there was no church within several +hundred feet and no school within several thousand. The little street +was called Gilfeather's Court, and not by its own name, which I have +forgotten; the narrow sidewalk from Main Street to Mr. Gilfeather's +door was well trodden; and that door was marked by day by a pair of +scraggy and ill-conditioned bay trees and by night by a modest light, +in addition. + +Mr. Gilfeather may have been grieved by the condition of the bay +trees, which were real trees, if trees which have their roots in +shallow tubs can be called real. At all events, he had resolved to add +to the classy appearance of his place, and to that end he had +concluded arrangements with the Everlasting Decorating Company for +certain palms and ferns, duly set in tubs of earth,--the earth was not +important except as it helped in the illusion,--which ferns and palms +were warranted not to be affected by heat, dryness, or the fumes of +alcohol, and to require no care except an occasional dusting. The men +of the Everlasting Decorating Company had just finished the artistic +disposal of these palms and ferns--as ordered--about the little +mahogany tables, giving to each table a spurious air of seclusion, and +had gone away, smiling and happy, having been treated by Mr. +Gilfeather, very properly, to whatever they liked. Mr. Gilfeather +wandered now among his new possessions, changing this palm by a few +inches and that fern by the least fraction of an inch and, altogether, +lost in admiring contemplation. + +What if the glossy green leaves were nothing but varnished green +paper? What if the stems were nothing but fibre with a covering of the +varnished paper here and there? What else were the real stems made of +anyway? And the light in the interior of Mr. Gilfeather's was rather +dim, having to filter in through his small front windows after passing +the tall blank wall of the building opposite, and--well--his +admiration was not undeserved, on the whole. He came back and leaned +against the bar. The bar was by no means the feature of the room. It +was small and modest, but of solid San Domingo mahogany. Mr. +Gilfeather did not want his customers to drink at the bar. He +preferred that they should sit at the tables. + +"How is it, Joe?" he asked, turning to the white-coated barkeeper. +"Pretty good, eh?" + +The silent barkeeper nodded. + +"Switch on the lights over in that corner," Mr. Gilfeather ordered, +"and let's see how she looks." Joe stopped wiping his glasses long +enough to turn to a row of buttons. "That's good. Put 'em all on." Joe +put 'em all on. "That's better. Now," turning to wave his hand upward +over the bar, "light her up." + +At his command there appeared on the wall over the bar, a large +painting of a lady clad chiefly in a leopard skin and luxuriant golden +hair and a charming smile. The lady was made visible by electric +lights, screened and carefully disposed, and seemed to diffuse her +presence impartially over the room. Unfortunately, there was nobody to +admire but Mr. Gilfeather and Joe, the barkeeper, and there is some +doubt about Joe's admiration; but she did not seem to mind and she +continued to smile. As they looked, the outer door opened silently and +closed again. Mr. Gilfeather and Joe, warned by the sudden draught, +turned. + +"Hello, Ev," said Mr. Gilfeather. "What do you think of it?" He waved +his hand inclusively. "Just got 'em." + +Everett inspected the palms and ferns solemnly. "Very pretty. Very +good. It seems to be good, strong paper and well varnished. I don't +see any imitation rubber plants. Where are your rubber plants?" + +"Eh?" asked Mr. Gilfeather, puzzled. "Don't you like it? They could +have furnished rubber plants, I s'pose. Think I ought to have 'em?" + +"Nothing of the kind is complete without rubber plants," Everett +replied seriously. + +Mr. Gilfeather looked at him doubtfully. "Don't you like 'em, Ev?" he +asked. It was almost a challenge. Mr. Gilfeather was nettled and +inclined to be hostile. If Everett was making fun of him--well, he had +better look out. + +"It's hardly up to your standard, Tom," he answered. He indicated the +lady in the leopard skin--and in her own--who still smiled sweetly +down at them. "After I have gone to the trouble of selecting paintings +for you, it--er--would be natural to expect that you would consult me +before adding a lot of cheap paper flowers to your decorations. I +should have been happy to advise you." + +"Nothing cheap about 'em," growled Mr. Gilfeather. "Had to have +something in here." + +"What's the matter with real palms and ferns?" + +"What would they cost, I should like to know? And how would I keep 'em +looking decent? Look at them bay trees out there." + +"Those bay trees do look a little dejected," Everett agreed, smiling. +"I should employ a good gardener to care for them and for your real +palms and ferns. Our gardener, I am sure, could--" + +"I don't s'pose your gardener'd do it for me now, would he?" + +Everett smiled again. "Hardly. But he's not the only one in town. It +might cost more, Tom, but it would pay, believe me. Your bar, now, is +the real thing and in good taste. You ought to have things in +keeping." + +Mr. Gilfeather emitted a growl and looked almost as dejected as his +bay trees. Everett laughed and moved toward a door beside the bar. + +"Anybody up there yet, Tom?" he asked. + +Mr. Gilfeather shook his head. "I'll send 'em up." Everett opened the +door and they heard his steps going up the stairs. "Hell!" said Mr. +Gilfeather. + +Joe smiled sympathetically, but said nothing. + +It was getting towards noon and customers began to straggle in singly +or by twos and threes. Certain of these customers were warned by Mr. +Gilfeather's thumb, pointing directly upward, and vanished. The others +had chosen their favorite tables and had been waited upon by two +white-aproned and silent youths, who had appeared mysteriously from +nowhere. The room gradually filled and gradually emptied again, but +there was no sign of Everett and his friends. Mr. Gilfeather went to +his dinner and came back a little after two o'clock. The high-toned +and classy place showed few customers present. It was a slack time. +Two men, at a table behind a mammoth paper fern, were drinking whiskey +and water and talking earnestly; another, hidden by a friendly palm, +was consuming, in a leisurely manner, a hot Tom and Jerry; another, +tilting his chair back in the far corner, read the early afternoon +paper and sipped his ale; and one of our white-aproned friends +vanished through the door beside the bar with a tray containing five +different mixtures of the most modern varieties, of which I do not +know the names. Mr. Gilfeather looked about on his despised +decorations and sighed; and the outer door opened again and admitted +Miss Sally Ladue. + +Mr. Gilfeather half turned, in response to a smothered exclamation +from Joe, turned again, and cast a startled glance up at the smiling +lady over the bar. + +"Switch 'em off, Joe, quick!" and Joe switched 'em off, leaving the +lady with her leopard skin in murky darkness, which, under the +circumstances, was the best place for her. But he had not been quick +enough. + +Sally's color was rather high as she stood just inside the door. +Nothing but palms and ferns--very lifelike--met her eyes; nothing, +that is, except a very chaste bar of San Domingo mahogany and the +persons of Joe and Mr. Gilfeather. The lady in the leopard skin no +longer met her eyes, for that lady had been plunged in gloom, as we +are aware. Sally, too, was aware of it. Mr. Gilfeather had a guilty +consciousness of it as he advanced. + +"Good afternoon, Miss Ladue," he said, somewhat apprehensively. "I +hope nothing is going wrong with my daughter?" + +"No, Mr. Gilfeather," replied Sally, hastening to reassure him. "She +is doing very well, and I expect that she will graduate well up in her +class." + +Mr. Gilfeather was evidently relieved to hear it. + +"I came to consult you," continued Sally; "to ask your advice." She +looked about her. The room was very quiet, much quieter than her own +room at school, for the two men drinking whiskey and water had stopped +their talking, upon Sally's entrance. It had been no more than a low +hum of voices, at most, and the man with his Tom and Jerry made no +more noise than did the man sipping his ale and reading his paper. +Sally thought that she would like to have Patty glance in there for a +minute. + +"Well," said Mr. Gilfeather slowly, "perhaps I can find a place where +we can talk without interruption. Will you--" + +"Why can't we sit down behind some of these lovely palms?" asked Sally +hastily. + +Mr. Gilfeather looked at her quickly. He was sensitive on the subject +of palms and ferns--everlasting ones, furnished by the Everlasting +Decorating Company. But Sally seemed unconscious. His suspicions were +unfounded. He nodded and led the way, and Sally followed, penetrating +the seclusion of three of the customers, to a table in another corner. +Sally sat down and Mr. Gilfeather sat opposite. + +He hesitated. "I suppose you wouldn't do me the honor to take +something with me, now?" he asked. Sally smiled and shook her head. "A +glass of lemonade or a cup of tea? I can have tea in a minute--good +tea, too, Miss Ladue." + +"Why, thank you, Mr. Gilfeather. I can't see any reason why I +shouldn't take a cup of tea with you. I should like it very much." + +He leaned back, crooked his finger at a white-aproned youth, and gave +his order. One would not imagine, from any sign that the youth gave, +that it was not quite the usual order. As Mr. Gilfeather had promised, +in less than a minute it was on the table: tea and sugar and sliced +lemon and cream. + +"We have a good many orders for tea," remarked Mr. Gilfeather, in +answer to Sally's look of surprise. "I try to have the best of every +kind." + +Sally helped herself to a lump of sugar and a slice of lemon. "I must +confess that I didn't suppose you ever had an order for tea." + +"Yes," he replied thoughtfully. "But we don't often have customers +like you, Miss Ladue. It is an honor which I appreciate." + +"But," Sally interposed, "you don't know, yet, what my errand is." + +"It don't make no difference what your errand is," said Mr. +Gilfeather; "your visit honors me. Whatever you ask my advice about, +I'll give you my best and thank you for coming to me." + +Sally looked at him with a smile in her eyes. "What I wanted to see +you about, Mr. Gilfeather, was gambling. Do--" + +"What?" asked the astonished Mr. Gilfeather, with a penetrating look +at Sally. "You ain't going to--" + +Sally laughed outright, attracting to herself the attention of the two +whiskey-and-waters. Tom and Jerry was consumed and had just gone out. + +"No," she said merrily, "I'm not going to. I only meant that I wanted +to see--to know whether you knew about it." + +"Whether I knew about it!" exclaimed Mr. Gilfeather, more puzzled than +ever. He glanced up fearfully as a slight noise came down to them from +above. "I never play, if you mean that. Of course, I know something +about it. Any man in my business can't help knowing something about +it." + +"Well," Sally resumed, "I wonder whether it would be possible for--for +me, for instance, to get in; to see the inside of a place where it is +going on. I don't know anything about it and I didn't know anybody to +ask but you." + +Mr. Gilfeather cast another apprehensive glance at the ceiling. Then +he looked down again and gazed thoughtfully at Sally out of half-shut +eyes. + +"I should think," he observed slowly, "that it would be difficult; +very difficult, indeed. I should say that it might be impossible. What +particular place did you have in mind? That is, if it's a proper +question." + +"That's just the trouble," Sally replied, frowning. "I don't know, +although I can find out. I didn't think of that. It's a place where +college boys go, sometimes," she added, flushing slowly. + +"In Boston, eh?" Mr. Gilfeather's brow cleared and his eyes opened +again. The color in Sally's face had not escaped him. "It's my advice, +Miss Ladue, that you give it up. I don't know anything about them +Boston places--I would say those places--or I'd offer to go for you. +Perhaps I can guess--" + +"It's my brother," said Sally simply. + +Mr. Gilfeather nodded. "I'd heard it or I shouldn't have spoken of +it," he said gently. "I'm very sorry, Miss Ladue. Nobody else shall +hear of it from me." + +"I'm afraid that will make very little difference," she remarked, "but +I thank you." + +Mr. Gilfeather was silent for some moments while Sally sipped her +tea. + +"Haven't you got any gentleman friend," he asked at last, "who would +do your errand for you?" + +"I don't know who would be the most likely to--to know the way about," +she returned. "I can't very well ask for bids." She smiled quickly. +"If I knew the best person to ask I would ask him." + +"That you would," Mr. Gilfeather murmured admiringly. "You ain't +afraid. Do you want me to suggest?" he asked. + +"I hoped you would be willing to." + +"Well, how would Everett Morton do? I guess he knows his way about. I +always understood that he did." Mr. Gilfeather smiled furtively. The +matter of the palms rankled. + +Sally looked reflective. "If he is the best man to do it I'll ask +him." She sighed. She felt a strange repugnance to asking him--for +that service. She had finished her tea and Mr. Gilfeather had finished +his. "Well," she said, rising slowly, "I thank you for your advice, +Mr. Gilfeather,--and for your tea," she added, "which I have enjoyed." + +"The honor is mine," returned Mr. Gilfeather gallantly. + +Sally smiled and bowed and was on her way to the door. "Miss Ladue," +called Mr. Gilfeather. She stopped and turned. "I wish you would be +kind enough to favor me with a bit of advice, too." + +"Gladly," said Sally. "What about?" + +Mr. Gilfeather came close and spoke low. "It's these palms and ferns. +I got 'em this morning. Might I ask your opinion of 'em?" + +"Surely, they're very nice and attractive," said Sally doubtfully. + +He remarked the doubt. "You don't really think that. Now, do you? +Wouldn't real ones be more--more high-toned, as you might say? I was +advised that--paper flowers, he called 'em--weren't in keeping. Would +you advise me to take 'em out and put in real ones?" + +"Oh," Sally answered quickly, "I can't advise you about that. Real +ones would be more expensive to keep in order, but they would be +better. Don't you think so yourself?" + +Mr. Gilfeather sighed. "These'll have to come out," he said sadly. +"They'll have to come out, I guess. It's hard luck that I didn't think +of asking before I got 'em. But I'm much obliged to you, Miss Ladue." + +Sally nodded again and went out. The door had hardly shut behind her +when the man who had been sipping his ale and reading his paper +emerged from his corner hastily and put out after her. It was Eugene +Spencer. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +It was almost time for the theatres to be out. Indeed, the first few +men were coming out of one, hurriedly putting on their coats as they +came. As the doors swung open the beginnings of the subdued roar of a +slowly moving crowd came out. A man and a girl who were walking +briskly past heard it. + +"Hurry, Jane!" exclaimed the girl anxiously. "I didn't know it was so +late." + +Jane muttered something about crowds, but it was nothing very +articulate. To tell the truth, Jane was nervous and he did not know +just what he was saying. Neither did Sally. She did not listen, for +that matter, for she was wholly occupied with her errand. They +quickened their pace until they were almost running, and the noise was +gradually left behind. Neither of them spoke; and when they had turned +the first corner they both sighed and the pace slackened to that brisk +walk again. + +Sally had not had to overcome her repugnance to asking Everett, and +Mr. Gilfeather's feeling of triumph was a little premature. When Jane +had overtaken her, a few steps from Mr. Gilfeather's door and had +asked whether he could not help her, she had yielded to her impulse +and had answered that he probably could if he would. And Jane had +confessed, getting a little red,--who would not have got a little red, +having to make such a confession to the girl he was in love with, even +yet?--he had confessed that he was qualified sufficiently for the +expedition, for he had been in number seven on two occasions, on the +first of which he had played. But, he added, he had not lost +much--fortunately for him, perhaps, he had not won--and he had had no +desire to play again, although he had felt some curiosity to see +others do it. It was worth while, for once, to see that side of human +nature. Sally began to tell him why she wanted to go, but he stopped +her. + +"I know, Sally," he said gently. "You don't have to tell me. I am glad +to be of any assistance at all." And Sally had thanked him and had +liked him better at that moment than she ever had before. It was a +pity that Jane could not know that. + +Two days later Harry Carling had telegraphed; and here they were, just +turning the last corner and finding themselves in the Street. I don't +give the name of the street for reasons which must be obvious enough, +but, irrespective of the name, Sally's heart beat a little faster when +they turned into it. Jane's heart would have beat faster if it had not +already accelerated its beat quite as much as it could with safety. He +was finding it in his mouth most of the time and had to swallow +frequently and hard to keep it down where it belonged. As for speaking +calmly and naturally, that was out of the question. That was enough to +account for his prolonged silence. When he did make the attempt his +voice was high and shrill and he hesitated and could not say what he +wanted to. + +It was a quiet street, entirely deserted at that end, and it was lined +with dignified old houses which echoed the sound of their footfalls +until their coming seemed the invasion of an army. + +"Mercy!" Sally cried nervously, under her breath. "What a racket we're +making!" And the sound of her voice reverberated from side to side. +The army had begun to talk. That would never do. "Silence in the +ranks!" thought Sally; and was surprised that her thought was not +echoed, too. Jane began to laugh excitedly, but stopped at once. + +The street was very respectable, anybody would have said; eminently +respectable. It even seemed dignified. There is no doubt that there +had been a time when it had been both respectable and dignified and +had not contented itself with seeming so. The houses had been built at +that time and presented their rather severe brick fronts to the +street, giving an effect that was almost austere. They were absolutely +without ornament, excepting, perhaps, in their inconspicuous but +generous entrances. Altogether, Sally thought the effect was +distinctly pleasing. She would have been glad to live in one of these +houses; for example, in that one with the wide recessed doorway with +the fan over it. It was dark now; dark as a pocket. Not a light showed +at any of the windows, although a dim one--a very dim one--burned over +the door. The people must be all in bed at this seasonable hour, like +good custom-abiding people. There might have been a special curfew at +nine o'clock for this special street. + +"That is the house," whispered Jane, pointing with a hand which was +not very steady to the very house that Sally had been contemplating +with admiration. It was not light enough for Sally to note the shaking +of his hand. + +The announcement was a shock to Sally. "What?" she asked +incredulously. "You don't mean the house with the dim light over the +door--the one with the fan!" Jane nodded assent. "Why," Sally +continued, "there isn't a light in the house, so far as I can see." + +Jane laughed. His laugh echoed strangely and he stopped suddenly. +"There are plenty of lights, just the same. What did you expect? A +general illumination--with a band?" + +"Something more than a dark house," she replied, smiling a little. "It +looks as if they had all gone to bed." + +He shook his head. "They haven't gone to bed." Their pace had +slackened and had become no more than an aimless saunter. Now they +stopped entirely, almost opposite the house. + +"Well," said Sally inquiringly, "what now?" + +Jane breathed a long sigh. "I--I suppose i--it's up to me," he replied +hesitatingly, "to go in." He spoke with very evident regret; then he +laughed shortly. + +"Don't you want to?" asked Sally curiously. + +"No, I don't, Sally," he rejoined decidedly. "I certainly don't. But +I want to help you, and therefore I do. It would be hard to make you +understand, perhaps, and--" + +"I think I understand, Eugene," she interrupted gently, "and you +needn't think that I'm not grateful." + +"I don't feel as confident as I ought," he said apologetically, "that +I shall be successful. What if Charlie won't come?" + +"You can tell him," she replied firmly, "that I shall wait here until +he does come. It isn't likely that I shall be put off the street." + +Spencer did not feel so sure of that as he would have liked to feel, +but he did not say so to Sally. "That brings up another question," he +said. "Where shall you wait? And what will you do--in case I am longer +than you expect? I confess that I am uneasy about you--waiting around +the streets--alone." + +"You needn't be," she returned. "Of course," she admitted, "it won't +be pleasant. I don't expect it to be. But I shall be all right, I'm +sure." + +He sighed once more and looked at her. "I wish I felt as sure of it as +you do. But I'll go in--or try to." He looked the street up and down. +"You'd better get in the shadow, somewhere; well in the shadow. Their +doorman has sharp eyes. That's what he's there for," he added in +response to her questioning look. "Perhaps you'd better not be within +view when I go in. We'll walk back a bit and I'll leave you there." + +She assented and they walked back until they were out of sight from +the door with the dim light burning over it. Then Spencer left her and +walked rapidly toward the house. He looked back two or three times. +She was standing just where he had left her: close beside a woebegone +tree with an iron tree-guard around it. It was a forgotten relic of +other days. Her motionless figure could hardly be distinguished from +the tree as she leaned against the guard. He opened the outer door of +the vestibule. A second dim light was burning here, just enabling him +to see the push-button. With a heart palpitating somewhat and with +that horrible, gone feeling in the region of his diaphragm, he rang +the bell. The outer door closed noiselessly behind him and two +electric lights flashed out brilliantly before him. The inner door, +which gave entrance to the house, was a massive thing, studded with +iron bolts, like the gate of a castle; and at the level of his face +was a little grated window or door of solid wood within the larger, +iron-studded door. In response to his ring the inner door did not +open, but the little grated window did, framing, behind iron bars, the +impassive face of a gigantic negro, who scrutinized Spencer with the +eye of experience and, having completed his inspection, nodded +solemnly. The little grated window closed and the electric lights went +out suddenly; and the door opened before him and closed again behind +him, leaving everything in readiness for the next comer; and leaving +Sally standing alone beside that woebegone tree without. + +There was nothing unusual about the appearance of the house if we +except the iron-studded door and its guardian. The negro, who was very +large and very black, had resumed his seat upon a stool by the door. +He glanced at Eugene without interest and immediately looked away +again and seemed to resume his thoughts about nothing at all. Eugene +glanced hastily about. The house might have served as a type of the +modest dwellings of the older school. The doors from the lower hall +were all shut and the rooms to which they led were empty, so far as he +knew, or were used as storerooms, perhaps. Everything was very quiet +and he and the gigantic negro might have been the only occupants of +the house. Before him was the staircase and he roused himself and +mounted to the floor above, walked a few steps along a hall exactly +similar to the first, parted the heavy double hangings over a doorway, +and entered. + +He found himself in the front room of two which were connected by +folding doors, which were now rolled back. The room in the rear was +but dimly lighted, as no one seemed to be interested in the roulette +table which stood there, although several men stood about the +sideboard or were coming or going. The top of that sideboard held a +large variety of bottles and anybody present was at liberty to help +himself to whatever he preferred; but, although there was a good deal +of drinking, there was no drunkenness. Drinking to excess was not +conducive to success in play; and the men, most of them, seemed to be +regular patrons of the place. Eugene's gaze wandered back toward the +front of the house. + +To his right, as he entered, was the centre of interest. Indeed, it +seemed to be the only point of interest. The windows had heavy double +hangings before them, which accounted for Sally's impression of the +house. Directly before these windows and taking up almost the whole +width of the room stood a large table. About this table were seated a +dozen men or more, old, middle-aged, and young, every one of them so +intent on the play that they noticed nothing else. About the seated +men, in turn, were other men, two or three deep, equally intent, +standing and carefully noting upon large cards which they held every +card that the dealer exposed from the box before him. I regret that I +am unable to explain more fully the mysteries of this system of +scoring. In some way, which I do not understand, this method of +keeping score was supposed to give some clue to the way in which the +cards were running on that particular night and to aid each scorer in +the development of his "system," which, as the merest tyro knows, will +inevitably break the bank sooner or later;--usually later. The house +supplied the score cards. They found the method a very satisfactory +one. + +By this time Eugene's heart had almost ceased its palpitation and he +could look about with some approach to calmness at the group around +the table. Curiously, he scanned the faces of the players. At the turn +of the table, to the right of the dealer, sat an elderly man, perhaps +nearing sixty, with a singularly peaceful countenance. He won or lost +with the same indifference, only putting up a hand, now and then, to +stroke his white mustache and glancing, sympathetically, Spencer +thought, at the only really young men playing. There were two of them +who were hardly more than boys, and this man seemed to be more +interested in their play than in his own. At the dealer's left sat a +man who might be anywhere from thirty-five to fifty, with a +clean-shaven and handsome clean cut face. He looked as distinguished +in his way as the elderly man of the white mustache and the peaceful +countenance did in his. He smiled as quietly when he lost as when he +won. Both men were very attractive and not the type of man you would +expect to find in such a place. The other men there were not +attractive. They were of no particular age and of no distinction +whatever; the type of man that you pass on the street a hundred times +a day without a second glance--if you have given the first. There was +a perennial frown upon their foreheads and their lips were tightly +closed and they were intent on nothing but their play. Altogether, the +less said about those men, the better. + +The first of the two young men mentioned was sitting at the turn of +the table diagonally opposite the elderly man and nearest Eugene, so +that his face was not visible. But his shoulders were expressive and +he was beginning to fidget in his chair; and when, once or twice, he +half turned his head Eugene could see the growing expression of +disgust upon his face. As the young fellow looked more and more +disgusted, the elderly man smiled the more and stroked his white +mustache and gazed at him, to the neglect of his cards, and once in a +while he glanced at the other young fellow. + +That other young fellow, as we know, was Charlie Ladue. He sat +directly opposite the dealer. His face was flushed with the excitement +of play, to which he was giving all his attention. Eugene could not +see his eyes, which never wandered from the straight line in front of +him, from his cards to the dealer; but he could imagine the feverish +brightness that shone from them. He wondered how the dealer liked the +constant contemplation of that sight; how it pleased him that he could +not look up without encountering those eyes of Charlie Ladue fixed +upon him. + +The dealer seemed to like it well enough; he seemed to like it +uncommonly well. Spencer transferred his gaze from Charlie to the +dealer. There was nothing interesting about Charlie--to him, at least; +nothing sad in his present situation except as it concerned Sally. The +dealer was different, and Eugene found himself fascinated in watching +him. + +It was impossible to guess his age. He might have been anywhere from +forty to sixty and must have been a handsome man when he was +young--whenever that was. He was a good-looking man yet, but there was +something sinister about him. His face was deeply lined, but not with +the lines of age or pain or of contentment or good nature. The lines +in a man's face will tell their story of his life to him who can read +them. Insensibly, they tell their story to him who cannot read them. +Eugene could not; but he felt the story and was at once fascinated and +repelled. He could not take his eyes off that dealer's face; and the +longer he looked the more strongly he was impressed with a vague +recollection. It might be only of a dream, or of a dim resemblance to +some one that he knew. He had the curious sense, which comes to all of +us on occasion, of having lived that very moment in some previous +incarnation, perhaps of knowing exactly what was going to happen next. +Not that anything in particular did happen. I would not willingly +raise expectations which must be disappointed. + +The dealer had always seemed to look at Charlie Ladue with interest; +with as much interest as he ever showed in anything--much more, +indeed, than he showed in anything or in anybody else. Charlie himself +had noted that, and although he never spoke,--at least, Charlie had +never heard him utter a word beyond what were absolutely necessary to +his duties,--there was something compelling in his eye which always +met Charlie's look as it was raised slowly from his cards, as if there +were some mysterious bond of fellowship between them. Rarely he had +smiled. But that was a mistake. It always made Charlie wish that he +hadn't. Charlie had not noticed, perhaps, that it was always on the +rare occasions when he won that the dealer had ventured upon that +faint smile which was so disagreeable. When he lost, which happened +more frequently,--very much more frequently,--the dealer expressed no +emotion whatever, unless a slight compression of his thin lips could +be called an expression of emotion. + +There was a stir among the persons about the table; among those +sitting and among those standing. The disgusted young fellow got up +quickly and one of the scorers as quickly took the chair he had left. +The boy breathed a deep sigh of relief as he passed close to Eugene. + +"Hell!" he exclaimed under his breath. It was more to himself than to +anybody else, although, catching Eugene's eye, he smiled. "They call +that sport!" + +The elderly man with the white mustache smiled peacefully and got up, +too, and joined the boy. + +"Had enough, Harry?" + +Harry turned a face filled with disgust. "Enough!" he said. "I should +think I had. It will last me all my life." He repressed his feelings +with an effort. "Did you win, Uncle Don?" + +"I'm sure I don't know," Uncle Don replied quietly. "I didn't keep +track. Did you?" + +"No, thank God!" he answered fervently. "I lost. And I feel as though +I had nearly lost my self-respect, too. I want a Turkish bath." + +"All right," returned his uncle quickly. "So do I. And I've no doubt +that Frank does." He turned and beckoned to the man who had been +sitting at the dealer's left. He had already risen and was standing +behind his chair, idly watching the readjustment, and he came at once. +"We're going to Ben's, Frank. Harry wants a bath." + +"Good!" said Frank with his ready smile. "Something that will get +right into your soul, eh, Harry? Come on, Don." + +Uncle Don had turned for a last look at the players. "It was a +somewhat dangerous experiment," he remarked, "and one that I should +never dare to try with that other boy there. He ought to be hauled out +of the game by the collar and spanked and sent to bed without his +dinner--to say nothing of baths. Well, we can't meddle. Come on." And +Uncle Don took one of Harry's arms and Frank took the other and they +went out. + +Eugene was reminded of his duty. If he was to haul Charlie out of the +game by the collar he must be quick about it. He wormed his way among +the scorers and touched Charlie on the shoulder. Charlie started and +looked up somewhat fearfully. + +Spencer bent over him. "Come, Charlie," he said. + +If either of them had noticed, they would have seen a faint flicker of +interest in the eyes of the dealer. But they were not looking at the +dealer. Charlie was relieved to see who it was. He had been afraid +that it was some one else--the police, perhaps. + +"Let me alone, Spencer," he replied disdainfully. "If you think that +I'm coming now, you're greatly mistaken. In a couple of hours, +perhaps." + +Eugene bent farther over. "Sally's waiting for you outside." He spoke +very low; it was scarcely more than a whisper. But the dealer must +have heard, for the interest in his eyes was more than a flicker now. + +In Charlie's eyes there was a momentary fear. It was but momentary. + +He laughed nervously. "I hope she won't get tired of waiting." He +shook his head. "I won't come now." + +Eugene bent lower yet. "She told me to tell you that she should wait +until you did." + +The dealer was waiting for them. There was a flash of irritation in +Charlie's eyes and he turned to the table. "Go to the devil!" he said. + +There was a snicker from some of those seated about the table. Eugene +reddened and drew back and the game went on. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +It was a very lonely time that Sally had, standing there, leaning +against the tree-guard and looking up and down the deserted street. +The houses seemed to be all asleep or deserted as well as the street. +She wondered idly what they were used for; then she thought that it +was as well that she did not know, judging from the one of them that +she did know about. What would the builders of those houses think if +they could come back and see the uses to which their dignified old +homes had been put? + +She glanced up and down the street again. Yes, it seemed to be +entirely deserted. She did not see the figure which lurked in the +shadows on the other side. She had said that she would be all right; +that she was not afraid. Well, she was not afraid, but she was getting +just a bit nervous. She wished that Eugene would hurry with Charlie. +She could not stand by that tree any longer anyway. She began to walk +slowly up and down, watching the door out of which she expected Jane +and Charlie to appear at any moment, and she wondered what she should +say to Charlie. She had no set speech prepared. What was there to say +that could possibly do any good? Probably she would say nothing at all +and they would set off in silence, all three, to their hotel. She had +other thoughts, too, but they need not concern us now. We are not +thinking of Fox Sanderson and his silly speeches nor of Henrietta and +her contentment; for she ought to be contented if ever a girl was. +Sally's eyes filled with tears and her thoughts insensibly drifted +away from Charlie and Jane as she paced slowly to and fro. And that +lurking figure across the street was never very far away. + +The sound of a door shutting reverberated after the manner of all +sounds in that street and there were voices. Sally had turned at the +sound of the door. Somebody was coming out of the house and she +hurried forward and stopped short. The figure on the other side of the +street started forward and stopped short also. There were three men +coming out, and the joyous voices were not Jane's and Charlie's. Their +voices would not be joyous--if they spoke at all. The three men passed +her, arm in arm, and they looked at her curiously as they passed and +the hand of the oldest instinctively went to his hat. Sally saw that +he was an elderly man with a pleasant face and that his mustache was +snow-white. They had got but a few steps beyond when their pace +slackened and this man seemed to hesitate. He looked back at her +doubtfully. Then he sighed and the three resumed their brisk walk. + +"No use," he said. "Can't meddle. I wish I could. No good comes of +it." + +Once more Sally took up her slow walk to and fro. She was glad that +the three men had gone, but she was sorry, too. That elderly man had +seemed kind and sympathetic and a gentleman; and he had come from that +house. But that, Sally, was no recommendation. She knew that he had +done the wise thing; or that he had not done the unwise thing, and +probably he was right and no good came of meddling. And the sound of +their steps died away as they turned a corner. Again Sally had the +street to herself; Sally and the man lurking in the shadows. She found +herself growing more and more oppressed with the sense of loneliness. +If only somebody were there to wait with her! A quiet, out-of-the-way +street, poorly lighted, is not the most exhilarating place for a girl +at half-past eleven at night. If only Fox-- + +Somebody else had turned the corner and was coming toward her with a +step that was neither brisk nor loitering; that seemed as if it knew +just where it was going, but was in no unseemly haste to get there. +Sally stopped and looked about for some place in which she might +conceal herself. None offered better than her tree. As the step drew +near she seemed to know it, and she shrank as nearly out of sight as +she could. She had no invisible cap; she wished she had. + +The step which she knew stopped beside her. "Sally!" said a voice in +unmistakable surprise. "Sally! What in the world are you doing here?" + +Sally smiled as bravely as she could. "Nothing, Everett," she replied +quietly. "Just waiting." + +"Waiting?" he exclaimed. "For whom, may I ask?" + +"For Charlie," she answered as quietly as before. "Jane has gone in to +get him." + +"Oh," said Everett coldly, "so Spencer has gone in to get him. To +judge by appearances, he doesn't seem to make a success of it." + +Sally shook her head. There did not seem to be anything else to say. +Spencer didn't seem to be making much of a success of it. + +"How long have you been waiting?" + +"Two or three years," answered Sally, with a nervous laugh. + +"You poor girl!" Everett exclaimed. "I was just going in to see if I +couldn't get Charlie. It is curious how things happen." Sally smiled a +little smile of amusement in spite of her nervousness. It _was_ +curious how things happened, when you came to think of it. "There +isn't any use in your waiting any longer. It can't do any good, and it +may be very unpleasant for you. Better let me take you to your hotel. +Then I will come back. I may have as much success as Spencer, +perhaps." And Everett began a little smile of his own; but, thinking +that Sally might see it, he stopped before the smile was well born. + +Sally shook her head again. "I told Eugene to tell Charlie that I +should wait here until he came out. It isn't pleasant, but I shall +wait." + +"But, Sally," Everett remonstrated, "you don't understand. You--" + +"I do understand," Sally interrupted. "I will take care of myself." +She may not have realized how this would sound and how it would +exasperate Everett. But perhaps she did realize. + +Everett only shrugged his shoulders and turned away. Sally was an +obstinate piece. + +"If you want to do me a kindness," she continued, "you will help to +get Charlie out as soon as you can." + +"As you like," he returned. "I will certainly do what I can to get +Charlie out. That's what I am here for." Again Sally smiled her +peculiar little smile. She couldn't help it. That Everett should think +she would believe that! "But you had much better let me take you to +your hotel first," he added, persuasively. "I will explain to +Spencer." + +"I will wait." + +Everett was irritated and quite out of patience with her. He shrugged +his shoulders again and started on. + +"You are very good, Everett," Sally called softly. "Thank you, and +good night." + +He made no reply unless a perfunctory touch of his hat and an +impatient mutter could be called a reply; and he was swallowed up by +the doorway and admitted by the doorman with a familiar nod and a grin +which it was as well, he thought, that Sally did not see. She would +not have been surprised if she had seen. + +Everett had hardly disappeared when the lurking figure left its post +in the shadows and advanced toward Sally. She saw it and braced +herself for the encounter. In the matter of encounters that lonely +street was doing pretty well. For an instant she meditated flight, but +instantly decided against it. The man must have known, from her +attitude, what was passing in her mind, for he spoke when he was but +halfway across. + +"Sally," he said gently, "you needn't be frightened. It--" + +Whereupon Sally behaved in a most peculiar and reprehensible manner. +At the sound of the voice she had stiffened; but now she cast herself +at the man and seized his arm with both her hands. + +"Fox, Fox," she said, with a quiver in her voice, for she was very +near to crying. "I'm glad. You are an old comfort. You don't know how +lonely it was, waiting by myself. I thought I could stand it, but I +don't know whether I could have held out much longer. The street was +getting on my nerves." + +"I know, Sally," he replied. "I was afraid it would. And now what is +the prospect? Is Charlie likely to come soon? And shall we go to your +hotel or wait?" + +"I must wait. But--but, Fox, it would provoke Jane and Charlie, too, +to find you here." + +Fox laughed. "Then I will vanish at the first sign of them. But I +should really like to know how your enterprise comes out. Do you mind +telling me, Sally? And how shall we manage it without telling your +mother? I suppose she doesn't know the purpose of your coming." + +"Not from me, although she may guess. I'll come out, in a day or two, +to call on you, sir. Shall you feel honored?" + +"You know I shall, Sally. But how will you account for your call?" + +"I shall come to collect the rent," returned Sally promptly, "if any +excuse is necessary. Be sure that you have it ready. And I shall give +you a faithful account of all that has transpired." She had Fox's arm +and she gave it a little squeeze. It was a very little squeeze and +very brief, but it made his heart jump. "It was lucky for me that +you--" And then she stopped short, realizing that Fox would not have +happened to be in that street, leading to nowhere, at that time. + +"Don't you know," he asked simply, with a laugh of content, "that I +always keep track of you? Did you think that you could come to such a +place as this without my being somewhere about?" + +Sally changed the subject quickly. It was an unspeakable comfort to +her to know--but Fox must not pursue that subject now. Fox had no +intention of pursuing that subject; and they walked slowly to and fro +over what had been Sally's beat, talking of anything or of nothing. +Sally was content; and again she forgot Charlie and Jane and her +errand, and she became almost gay. Those sombre old houses echoed +quiet laughter, of a kind that they had not heard for goodness knows +how many years, and low voices. Some more men came, singly, or in +groups of two or three, and looked at them with curiosity. Sally +hardly saw them. And the last group passed into the house and up the +stairs and into the room where the table stood before the front +windows and they stopped short at the sound of angry voices. + +The game had stopped, for the moment, and the dealer was leaning back +with his hand upon the pack, waiting. There was a look upon his face +of languid interest under the mask of indifference, as he gazed at the +young fellow opposite, his face flushed now with impotent rage, and at +the man leaning over him. The face above was flushed with anger, too, +but it was not impotent. If Sally had seen it she would have been +reminded of her father. The sight seemed to remind the dealer of +something, but it was impossible to guess whether that something was +pleasant or otherwise. Many things had happened to him which were not +pleasant to think of. Indeed, the pleasant things were very few. He +did not think of his past when he could help it. It was a thing to be +avoided. + +"Come, Charlie," said Everett again, sharply. "You're to get up and +go. We're all waiting." + +Charlie seemed to be divided between his long admiration of +Everett--of what he said and did and was--and his helpless anger. He +wavered. + +"You mean that I have got to leave the game?" he sputtered at last. +"Why have I?" He hesitated a moment, looking from the cards to the +dealer who still had that little look of languid interest upon his +face. In fact, it was almost compelling a smile on the thin lips. +Charlie could not have stood that. He looked away again quickly, but +he did not look at Everett. He could not have stood that, either. +"No," he said, with a sudden accession of courage, "I won't do it. The +game can go on." + +The dealer did not move a muscle. Everett smiled. "You see," he +answered, "that it will not go on with you in it. I'm right, Charlie?" +he added, glancing up at the dealer; but it was less a question than a +command. + +The dealer nodded. Still Charlie Ladue did not move. + +"Come, Ladue," Everett ordered impatiently. "Don't make them put you +out. Cash in and go along. You know very well why. I promised to start +you and I'm going to. And, let me tell you, I can do it." + +There was nothing else to do. Charlie muttered something and rose +slowly and pushed his chair back violently in a fit of childish anger. +Instantly the chair was taken and the game was going on almost before +he had his back turned. Everett kept close beside him until he had his +coat and hat, and he even went down to the door with him. Eugene was +waiting there, but he said nothing. He was much mortified at his +complete failure and at Everett's complete success. The grinning black +opened the door. + +"Good night, Spencer," said Everett. "And good night, Charlie. If you +take my advice, you'll give it up." + +The door shut behind the two and Everett went upstairs again. He paid +no attention to the game, but walked into the dimly lighted back room +and to the sideboard. He felt out of sorts with himself and with +everybody and everything else. He must be thirsty; and he poured +himself out a glass and stood sipping it and looking absently at the +heavily curtained windows at the rear. There did not happen to be +anybody else at the sideboard. + +He was still sipping with his back toward the front room and the game +when he felt a touch upon his arm. He turned quickly. There stood the +dealer. + +"Hello, Charlie!" he said in some surprise. "Your recess? Do you want +me to apologize for taking that young cub out and making all that +row?" + +The dealer shook his head. "That was right enough. I've been thinking +about him for some--" He stopped short and swallowed--something; +possibly a lump or something of the kind. But it is not conceivable +that such a man can have the more usual emotions of pity and charity. +For they are the usual emotions, whatever you may say against it. If +Everett had only known it, that was the very trouble with him. He had +not been thirsty, primarily. His thirst was but a physical symptom of +his mental state. + +But I interrupted the dealer. He was speaking again. "I should like to +ask you a question, Mr. Morton," he said. + +"What is it, Charlie?" Everett felt but a passing interest in his +question. + +"I noticed that you called the young man Ladue." + +"Did I? That was very thoughtless of me. I apologize." + +The dealer did not smile, but went on, apparently pursuing his object, +whatever that was. "And the other man spoke of Sally." + +"Indeed! That was even more thoughtless." + +"Charlie Ladue," the dealer continued in an even voice, "and Sally. It +sounds as if Sally should be his sister. Is she?" + +Everett hesitated for a moment. After all, what harm? "Well, yes, she +is his sister. Much disturbed at hearing of his doings. You and I, +Charlie," he said lightly, "know better." + +The dealer smiled faintly. For a wonder his faint smile was not +unpleasant. + +"Can you tell me," he pursued, "where Miss Sally Ladue is to be +found--say, in the morning?" + +Everett hesitated again and glanced at the man suspiciously. This was +a more serious matter. + +"Why do you ask? And, assuming that I know, why should I tell you, +Charlie?" If it had not been that he still smarted under Sally's +treatment of him, he would not have gone as far as that. + +The old dealer with the lined face smiled slowly and with a certain +cunning. + +"Possibly I can answer both questions at once. Conceivably, I can +satisfy you. I am her father." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +Sally and Eugene and Charlie had almost finished breakfast. It was a +silent group; Eugene was quiet, for he had not got over the +mortification at his miserable failure of the night before, and, +besides, the very fact that he was eating breakfast with Sally was +enough to make him quiet. Charlie was sulky and morose and penitent. +There had been very little said, but that little had been to the +point, and Charlie had pleaded _nolo contendere_, which, in this case, +was equivalent to a plea of guilty; guilty of the offense as charged +and guilty of obtaining money from Patty under false pretenses, +although Sally could not find out how much. He would only say that it +was not so very much; he could not remember exactly how much. And +Sally had promised to give him a reasonable allowance if he would +honestly try to keep within it and would give up his bad habits, which +would be his unfailing ruin if he kept on. It might be necessary to +take him out of college. He was to go home with them and the council +of war would decide about that. Charlie seemed somewhat anxious about +the composition of that council, although he did not seem to care very +much whether he left college or not. As Sally had not decided upon +that point, she did not gratify his curiosity. And Charlie had given +the required promises. He had even promised more than was required of +him, for he agreed to reform permanently. Sally had her doubts about +its being permanent. She had seen too much of the effects of the +"bug," as Horry Carling had called it. But she could not ask more, and +she sighed and expressed herself as satisfied and they went in to +breakfast. That incident was closed. + +Now she was leaning back in her chair, watching the others putting +the finishing touches on a rather substantial breakfast. A call-boy +was speaking to the head waiter; and that august official came with +stately step to Sally's table. + +"A gen'leman to see Miss Ladue," he announced privately in Sally's +ear. + +Sally looked up in surprise. "To see me?" she asked. "Are you sure? +Who is it? Do you know?" + +"He asked was Miss Ladue staying here, but he didn't give no card and +he wouldn't give no name. I could say that you've gone or that we +can't find you," the man suggested, "if you don't care to see him." + +"Oh, no," said Sally, with a quick smile. "I'll see him. He may have +come to tell me of a long-lost fortune. But," she added with a puzzled +wonder, "I can't imagine who it can be." + +Eugene got up, pushing aside his coffee. "Let me go, Sally." + +Sally was already up. "Oh, no," she said again. "Thank you, Eugene, +but you and Charlie may as well finish your breakfast in comfort. +There's plenty of time before our train goes and I will join you in a +few minutes. I'm only wondering who in the world it is and what he +wants. Perhaps it's Everett." + +A look of annoyance came into Spencer's eyes at the mention of +Everett. Why couldn't he let them alone? But Sally was rapidly +vanishing in the wake of the head waiter, who delivered her safely to +the call-boy. At the door of a small reception room the boy paused, +parted the hangings, and bowed Sally in. + +As she entered, a man rose from a chair near the window and stood +waiting. Although Sally could not see his face because of the light +behind him, there was something vaguely familiar in his manner of +rising from the chair and in his attitude. It troubled her. + +"You wished to see me?" she asked, wondering why he did not come +forward to meet her. + +"Miss Sallie Ladue?" he asked in return. Sally's hand went to her +heart involuntarily; her mother's trick, exactly. The man seemed to be +smiling, although Sally could not see that, either. "I want to make +sure. It is sometime since--" + +"Turn around to the light, so that I can see your face," Sally +commanded. Her voice was hard and cold. It may have penetrated his +armor. He turned obediently, giving a short laugh as he did so. + +"My face may be a trifle the worse for wear since you have seen me," +he remarked airily. "A trifle the worse for wear; which yours is not. +Has anybody ever told you, Sally, that you have become a lovely woman? +Or wouldn't you care for that tribute?" + +"We will not discuss my appearance, if you please." Sally's voice was +still hard and cold; like steel. She came around in front of him and +scrutinized his face closely. There could be no possible doubt. "Well, +father?" + +"You don't seem glad to see me, Sally. After an absence of--er--a +hundred years or so, one would think that you might be. But, I repeat, +you don't seem glad to see me." + +"No," said Sally quietly. "I'm not." + +He laughed. His laugh was unpleasant. "Truthful as ever, I see. +Wouldn't it be better to mask the truth a little, when it must be as +disagreeable as it is now? To draw even a thin veil over it, so that +it can be perceived dimly--dimly if unmistakably?" + +Sally shook her head and she did not smile. "I see no object in it. +What is your purpose in seeing me now? I do not doubt that you have a +purpose. What is it?" + +He seemed to find a certain pleasure in tantalizing her. "Aren't you +curious to know how I found out your whereabouts?" + +"I am not interested in that. Tell me your purpose." + +"What other purpose could I have than to see my daughter after so many +years? Is it permitted, my dear Sally, to ask after the health of your +mother?" + +"She is well; as well as can be expected. It is not your fault that +she did not die years ago. She was four years getting over that +trouble of hers. You laughed at her headaches, you remember. She was +four years in Doctor Galen's sanitarium." + +He waved his hand lightly, as of old. "A little misunderstanding, +Sally, which I greatly regret. But four years of Doctor Galen! How did +you manage to pay him?" + +"That," replied Sally, "cannot possibly be any concern of yours." + +"Ah, true. It is not any concern of mine. But is it not possible to +see your mother? She is still my wife, I presume, and you are still my +daughter." + +"She is still your wife and I am your daughter. But you shall not see +her if I can prevent it." + +"And--I gather from the tenor of your remarks that you would resist +any attempt at--er--reuniting a family long separated by +circumstances." + +Sally smiled disdainfully. "I am of age. As to my mother, I should +resist. No court would compel it." + +"Ah," he said, smiling, "how well you meet my points! You are of age, +and no doubt you are right about the courts. There is no law that will +prohibit my trying, I think. And Charlie is not of age, if my +recollection serves me." + +Before Sally could frame an answer, there was a slight noise in the +hall and Charlie burst in. "I beg your pardon," he said hastily. The +two were standing, and he had not recognized Sally. But an instant's +gaze was enough. "Sally!" he exclaimed. He looked at the man. A wave +of red rushed into his face. "Charlie!" he cried involuntarily. Then +he recovered. "What are you doing here? What do you mean by coming to +see my sister?" + +Sally was inexpressibly distressed. She started to speak. She would +have said something--told him the truth, of course--to save them both; +but a quiet movement of her father's hand stopped her. He seemed to be +waiting patiently for the next stone. + +"Do you know, Sally," Charlie continued, "who this man is? He is the +dealer in number seven. He has no right--no business to try to see +you. I insist on his leaving at once." + +Sally spoke with surprising gentleness, considering her mode of speech +to her father only a few minutes before. "We have some business, +Charlie," she said. "He will go as soon as that is done. Now, leave +us, please, to finish it, for we have not a great deal of time. It is +all right." + +And Charlie withdrew slowly, with many a glance from one to the other +and many a misgiving as to the business which seemed to be of so +private a nature. They heard his steps retreating down the hall. + +Sally turned her shocked face to her father, "Won't you sit down?" she +asked gently. "I am very sorry; sorrier than I can tell +you--for--everything, but especially for that speech of Charlie's. But +Charlie did not know." + +"And I prefer that he shouldn't," her father replied. He had seated +himself with his face half turned away from the light. "I have many +hard things to bear, Sally, and, strange as it may seem to you, I try +to bear them with patience. I have to, so why make a virtue of +necessity? That speech of Charlie's--made in ignorance--was less hard +for me than your own." + +"I am sorry," Sally said again, "but I meant what I said, most +emphatically. You are not to suppose that I didn't. But I am sorry for +my manner--if it hurt you." + +He smiled faintly. "It was not intended to soothe or to amuse, I take +it," he remarked. And he lapsed into silence, fingering his hat +nervously and turning it around in his hands. + +Sally sat gazing at the lined old face before her a long time without +speaking. As she looked, her eyes softened even more and grew +tender--and those eyes could be wonderfully tender. He bore her gaze +as well as he could, but he was ill at ease. If the truth must be +told, his mood had softened, too, and the very fact embarrassed him. +Perhaps he remembered the days of the little lizard and the coal-trees +and the occasions when the gynesaurus had climbed to the topmost +branch and gazed forth upon a wide prospect of tree-tops and swamps. +It could not have been pleasant to recollect those days. For him, they +were no more and could be never again. He was roused by Sally's low +voice. + +"Oh, father," she said impulsively, "why do you do it? Why can't you +give it up? I could get your lizard for you. Why not return to your +old life? You might do something yet. At least, it would be a comfort +to be respectable." + +He laughed at that. "No doubt it would," he observed, "be a great +comfort to be respectable. And no doubt it would be a great comfort to +you to have a respectable father; reformed; dragged from the depths." +The tears came to Sally's eyes. "Does your programme," he asked then, +nonchalantly, "include--er--reuniting a family long separated by +circumstances? You may remember that I mentioned the matter once +before." + +She shook her head slowly and regretfully. "I'm afraid not. I couldn't +consent to exposing mother to the--" She hesitated and stopped. + +"The dangers incident to such an arrangement?" he suggested. "Pardon +me for supplying what you were considerate enough to omit. Perhaps you +are wise. And Charlie?" + +"And Charlie." She nodded. "You see, yourself, that such a thing could +not be--at any rate, until you have proved that you could do it." + +"I couldn't," he answered promptly. "Don't think that I haven't tried. +I have tried, repeatedly. I hate the life, but I can't give it up. +But," he added, "you need not have been afraid for Charlie." + +"I am very much afraid for Charlie," said Sally simply, "in any case. +He is sick of it now. How long the present mood will last, I do not +know. Could you manage that he is not allowed to play at--at your--" + +He bowed gravely. "That can be arranged, I think." + +"Thank you, father." + +Once more there was silence between them. Finally he made a movement +as if to go. "I was--I wanted--was curious to see how you had come +out, Sally. That was the main reason for my troubling you. If there +were other reasons, they no longer exist. I--" + +"Don't go yet, father," Sally interrupted. "I have more to say." + +He sat down again and waited. She was considering--trying to consider +the problem before her in every aspect. But she could not get the +point of view of her father and Charlie, and she wanted to. + +"Father," she resumed, "what _is_ the attraction? I have been trying +hard to get a sympathetic view of it and I can't. I can't see anything +except what is sordid and repulsive. The life is--is not desirable--" + +"Not very desirable," he broke in, with a horrible, dry laugh. + +"And it can hardly be simply covetousness. If it is, you miss your +mark. What I--" + +"It is not covetousness. I may as well say that it is not a sin of +covetousness," he corrected, "in deference to the generally received +opinion. I have no desire to gloss over and to try to excuse by a form +of words, although I, personally, am not convinced that it is a sin +according to natural law. However, we need not discuss that aspect of +it." + +He waved that view aside with a familiar motion of his hand. How +familiar they were--those little tricks of the hand and of the voice! +They made Sally's eyes fill and a lump come in her throat. She raised +her hand to her forehead and leaned upon it. It half concealed her +eyes. She said nothing. The professor went on in his old lecture-room +manner; a judicial manner. + +"No, it is not a sin of covetousness, but simply a passion to which +any man who is subject to it can't help giving way. It is a passion as +old as humanity--perhaps older. There are no more inveterate gamblers +than the savages. Possibly," he added, smiling, "my little lizard had +it; possibly it goes back to those ancient days that you know about, +Sally. It may be that the saurians had their own games of chance and +their own stakes--and, I may add, their own methods of enforcing +payment. Indeed, their life was one great gamble. For that matter, +life is no more than that now." + +Sally made an inarticulate protest. + +"As for getting the other man's money," the professor continued, +unheeding, "that is merely incidental. We feel better, it's true, when +we win, but that is for another reason. It has nothing to do with the +game--keeping his money. The other man can keep his money--or, as far +as the game is concerned, I would give it back to him--for all the +happiness it brings him or would bring me. The distinction which I +mean to draw is a little subtle, but I flatter myself that you can +appreciate it." + +He looked at her and she nodded. The tears still stood in her eyes. + +"Happiness, Sally," he resumed, absently gazing at the wall, "is--but +you probably do not care for my views on the subject of happiness," he +said, interrupting himself and glancing at her with a smile. The smile +was rather pleasant to contemplate; a thing sufficiently +remarkable--for him. "Probably you think I am better qualified to tell +you what it is not than what it is; how to avoid it than how to get +it. I can give advice, but I cannot follow it." + +Sally smiled quickly. "Your views are interesting," she said. She +stirred a little. She did not know how he would take what she was +about to say. "You would--would you feel hurt, father, if I should +offer you an allowance?" + +A quarter of an hour before, he would not have felt hurt or +embarrassed in the least. In fact, that was the very thing he had come +there for. At the moment, it was different. A flush crept into his +face slowly. + +"Why should I feel hurt?" His voice had changed. It had lost that +intimate quality which it had had during the last few minutes, when he +had been on the point of telling Sally about happiness. "It is Uncle +John's money, I suppose? Why should I feel any compunctions about +taking it? And--er--there are conditions incident to the acceptance +of this--er--this gift, I suppose?" + +"I'm afraid there are," she replied; "at least, tacitly understood." + +He considered for a few moments. "I think," he said then, "that it +will conduce to happiness, on the whole, if we are not too tacit about +those conditions. What are they?" + +"I hoped," she answered gently, "that you would not insist on my +repeating them. You must understand, from what I have said, what they +are." + +"I prefer that they should be stated as conditions." + +"Very well." Sally's voice was harder and colder. "As you like. You +are not to take any steps whatever, even to reveal your existence to +my mother and Charlie. Charlie is not to be allowed to play at your +house--not to be allowed to enter it." + +"But, Sally, I may be unable to prevent that," he protested. "The +house is not mine. I am only--only an employé and an underling. I will +do what I can, but there is no use in promising what I can't perform." + +Sally smiled a little. It was something new for him to stick at +promising. + +"Those are the conditions which I must make in self-defense," she +said. + +"May I venture to ask what is offered on the other side?" + +She made a rapid calculation. "The most that I can offer you is seven +hundred a year. I'd like to make it a thousand; but I have mother and +Charlie to take care of, and I must pay Patty what she had let him +have--without my knowledge," she added apologetically. "I agree to +send you sixty dollars a month on those conditions." + +He was leaning back in his chair and spoke in his old manner, lightly. + +"And if the conditions are violated?" + +"The allowance stops," Sally replied promptly. + +"And further?" + +There was a suspicion of moisture again in Sally's eyes. "You make it +unnecessarily hard, father," she said gently. "I shall act further if +you compel me to." She was reminded of the time when she had asked his +permission to go to dancing-school. Her feelings, she found, were much +the same as they had been on that occasion. "I am ready to put it in +writing if you wish." + +"Oh, no," said the professor airily. "It is not necessary, Sally. Your +word would be all that anybody could require; anybody who knew you." + +"Thank you," she murmured. It was very low and he gave no sign of +having heard it. + +Again he was silent; then he turned to her. A smile of amusement +curled his lip. "There is, at least, no question of sentiment in all +this, is there, Sally?" + +"Oh, I don't know," she murmured more gently than ever. She was not +looking at him, but down at the arm of her chair. "There may be, but I +must not let it interfere with my judgment--in this matter. There is +mother to think of." + +"Ah! I infer that your mother would not welcome an occasion for +reuniting that family which I mentioned." + +It was not a question and Sally said nothing. After a pause, the +professor sighed and spoke again. + +"I accept your munificent offer, Sally. There is nothing else to do." + +It was his way--it had always been his way to put the giver in the +wrong, by a simple turn of words; to make her feel as if it were he +who was conferring the favor. Sally felt somehow guilty and +apologetic. + +"Will you give me your address?" she asked, diffidently--"the address +to which you would like your money sent?" + +He wrote on a slip of paper with an old stub of a pencil which he +pulled from his pocket and handed her the paper. She read it and +looked up at him quickly. + +"Am I to make them out in this name?" she asked. "It is not--" + +"It is not Ladue," he interrupted deliberately, but showing more +emotion than he had shown hitherto. "Professor Charles Ladue, I would +have you know, Sally, died about ten years ago, in extreme poverty and +distress--of mind as well as of body." + +Sally's tears overflowed and dropped, unheeded. She put out her hand +impulsively, and laid it upon his. + +"Oh, father!" she whispered. "I am sorry." + +"I believe you are," he said. He rose. "Now I will go back to +obscurity. Don't be too sorry for me," he added quickly. "I cultivate +it." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +Mrs. Ladue asked no troublesome questions. Perhaps she thought that +she had no need to; that she knew, as well as if she had been told, +what Charlie had been doing. Sally had been to see about it, of +course, and now it was all right, equally of course. Sally always +remedied wrongs as well as anybody could and made them right again. It +was a great comfort. And Mrs. Ladue sighed happily and smiled. + +Sally thought the smile somewhat ill-timed, but she was glad enough +that her mother felt like smiling. That smile exasperated her a +little. She had just come back and the past twenty-four hours had been +rather crowded. But her mother did not know that. And she was glad +enough that her mother had not asked questions, for, if she had been +asked, she would have lied, if necessary, for the first time in her +life. Her mother did make a remark which, as Sally thought, showed +that she knew. Sally had her hand on the door and was on the point of +going out. + +She turned. "Why, mother!" she exclaimed. "So you knew, all the time, +what the trouble was!" She laughed in derision; at herself, chiefly. +"And I took such pains to keep the truth from you!" + +"I didn't know, Sally. I only guessed. It's what I have been afraid of +for years--the first thing I should have looked for. What else could +you expect, with his--" + +She did not go on. Sally, fresh from that interview with her +father,--it had happened only that morning,--was almost overcome by +the memory of it. + +"Why, Sally, dear!" cried her mother. "I didn't suppose you felt so. +Don't, dear. It's nothing that we can help--the wanting to, I mean. +And I'm sure you have done more than anybody else could." + +Sally regained her self-control with an effort. "I don't feel so bad +about Charlie. I've done all that I can--now. But it's rather taken it +out of me," she added, with a nervous little laugh. + +"Of course, dear. I wish I were good for anything. I know," she said, +laughing nervously, in her turn, "that I ought to feel troubled. But I +can't, Sally, dear. As long as--" she hesitated and flushed. "I am +rather ashamed to say it, but as long as--as your father hasn't turned +up, I can't be anything but contented and happy. I find that I've had +an absurd feeling--utterly absurd, dear, I know--that he was about to. +It's only since you were on the way that that dread has left me and +I've felt contented--so happy and contented. The change came with +curious suddenness, about the time your train must have left." + +Sally had turned away sharply. "I'm very glad, mother," she replied in +a stifled little voice. "I'm glad you can feel so happy. There's no +need to feel that dread any more, I think. I'm going out now. Don't be +worried if I am late." + +"Going to walk, Sally?" Mrs. Ladue asked diffidently. "You had better +tell me what direction you will take--in case Fox comes in, you know. +He always wants to know your direction if you are at all late." + +"I'm going out to see him," Sally returned. "I promised to tell him +about it." + +If Sally had stopped to think of it at all she might have wondered why +her mother seemed so glad that she was going to Fox's. But her mind +was taken up with thoughts of her father, to the exclusion of +everything and everybody else--but one, and Sally was not aware of the +exception. Fox was the only person she was free to tell about her +father and she was looking forward to it. When she had shared her +knowledge--with somebody--it would be less of a burden. It never +occurred to her that he might not be glad to know. Wasn't he always +glad to know of anything which concerned her--anything at all? And as +Sally thought these thoughts a vivid blush spread over her face and +her throat. It was a pity that there was nobody to see it. + +Fox met her at the door. There was a questioning smile on his face as +he took her hand. He led the way into his office and Sally sank into +an armchair that stood by the table. Fox drew another chair near and +sat down. Then he took a little slip of paper from his pocket and laid +it by her elbow. + +"The rent," he said. + +Sally laughed, but she let it lie there. + +"Well?" Fox asked. + +"Well!" She found that she had very little to say and that little did +not come readily. "It is nice to get into a chair that is comfortable +without swallowing you whole--as if it would never give you up." She +patted an arm of the chair nervously. "I like these low arms." + +"Yes," said Fox, "so do I. And--there is no hurry, Sally. Would you +like to rest there--just sit and be comfortable for a while? You can +have had very little real rest for some time and you must have had +much to tire you. Just exactly as you please. I am entirely at your +service--as I am always," he added, in a low voice. "I can be +attending to my work, and you could begin whenever you were ready, or +I will give my undivided attention now." + +"Have you got work," Sally began hastily, "that--" + +"Oh, there's no hurry about it." And Fox smiled quietly. "But there's +enough to do. Routine, mostly." + +"Could you do it with me here? Wouldn't you--" + +"Couldn't I!" Fox smiled again. "It adds a great deal to my peace of +mind to have you in the same room with me, even when you aren't saying +anything. And peace of mind, Sally, is--" + +"Yes, I know," said Sally, interrupting. "Well, let's try it. You go +to your desk and work and I'll sit here and rest. And when the spirit +moves me I'll speak." + +So Fox went to his desk and Sally watched him as he became more and +more absorbed; and, as she watched, there came a light into her eyes +which had not been there before. Still she said nothing; only leaned +her head back against the chair and watched. Once he looked back at +her and smiled. He almost caught that light--that look in her eyes, +but Sally managed to quench it in time. + +"Resting, Sally?" he asked. + +She nodded and he turned back to his desk. The work did not seem +difficult. Sally wondered, and in her wonder she forgot, for the +moment. + +"Couldn't I do that, Fox?" + +"To be sure you could," he answered quickly, "if you only would. It +isn't half as difficult as what you do at your office." + +He had not looked around. Sally was glad of that, for she was +blushing--at her own temerity, she told herself. Again there was +silence in the room, except for the rustling of papers. + +"Fox," said Sally, after five minutes of this, "what would you do with +Charlie now? Would you send him back to college?" + +He put his papers down and turned. "Does the spirit move you to talk +now?" + +Again she nodded. "I think so. The little rest has done me good. And I +should like to have your advice." + +He came to the chair near hers. "What happened after I left you last +night?" + +"Nothing in particular," she answered. "I don't remember that we said +anything of consequence. I had a talk with Charlie, early this +morning." She gave him the substance of it; if it could be said to +have any substance. "This is the council of war," she added, smiling +somewhat wearily, "that is to settle his fate." + +Fox sat contemplating the wall. "It seems rather hard to say 'no' to +your question," he said at last, slowly, "but I should be inclined to +advise it. Have you any assurance--besides Charlie's promise, that +is--that he will not return to his bad habits?" + +"No, none of consequence. I am afraid he would. If--if he went into +the office with me now, I could keep an eye on him. That is," she +amended rather hopelessly, "I could try to. Charlie would probably +have no trouble in deceiving me if he tried to. I thought that +Henrietta might be willing to help about him. She might be able to do +more with him than I could." + +"Of course she would be willing." + +"She seems to have influence with Charlie and I should think she would +be willing to use it for his good. I haven't any influence," she +continued, "except through his fear of being found out. I don't know +how it happened--that doesn't matter especially--but he doesn't trust +me. I'm sorry, but that's the way it is." She sighed and looked away. + +Fox did not like to have her look away. He much preferred to have +those gray eyes look trustingly into his. + +"You may be sure that it's through no fault of yours, Sally." + +"Perhaps," Sally returned, looking back at him. "Perhaps, but I'm not +so sure. Very likely it is my fault. At any rate, it can't be helped. +That's the way it's gone." She stopped and seemed to be considering; +wondering, perhaps, how she should have done. She could not have done +differently, being herself. There was always, at the bottom of her +heart, an utter contempt for--well, she would not complete that +thought. And she sighed again and resumed. Fox had said nothing. + +"If we kept him in college, there would be relapses,--inevitably, I +think,--and I should only have to do this over again. Not that I +should mind," she interrupted herself hastily, "if it would do any +good. But every relapse would make it harder. There seems to be no +escape. I think he'll have to come out. That, I understand, is the +sense of the meeting?" She looked at Fox again, smiling whimsically. + +"That is my advice," said he, "if I am privileged to give advice on +the subject. I'm sorry to be seeming to take away his opportunities. +His regret will grow as he grows older." + +Sally shook her head. "He doesn't seem to have any regret." + +"He will have." + +"He may. I should think he would. But it's his own fault and that's +all there is to say about Charlie. I've done the best I could and I +don't mean to worry about it any more. I'll have him come into the +office to-morrow and I think he'll be glad to. It's a change, you +know." + +Sally looked at Fox and smiled again; but if there was anything +humorous in her smile there was much more that was scornful. + +"And now, Fox," Sally continued, very low--he could hardly hear the +words--and looking away again, "I have something else to tell you. It +is rather terrible, I think." Her voice was not steady and she +stopped, trying to control it. She did not want to cry; she did not +mean to. "I saw--" She choked, but went on bravely. "I saw my father +this morning." + +"What!" He cried in a voice as low as her own. The effect of her words +was as great as she could have expected, if she thought of the effect +at all. He put out his hand instinctively; but Sally withdrew hers. +"Where, Sally?" + +"He came to the hotel to see me." She spoke in a monotonous voice. She +found that her only hope lay in using that voice. She might begin to +cry at any moment. If she should--she was almost worn out and she was +afraid. In that same monotonous voice she gave every detail of the +interview. She did not omit anything. It was all burned into her +memory. Fox did not speak. When she came to an end of her account she +found that even her monotonous voice could not save her. She was +perilously near to tears and her chin would quiver in spite of all +that she could do. + +"Sally! Sally!" said Fox tenderly. He saw her condition. "Don't tell +me any more now if it distresses you." + +"I may as well," she replied as well as she could. She smiled up at +him, but her chin quivered more and more. "I may as well--now as well +as another time. For--for I've got to tell you, Fox." She looked at +him imploringly. "I've got to tell somebody, and the somebody is +always you." She smiled again tearfully, and looked away again. Fox +could not stand many such smiles. He would--would do something, he did +not know just what; but he sat gazing at her with infinite tenderness +and pity, saying nothing. + +"My father is employed in--in the house that we went to," she resumed +at last; "the house where Charlie has been playing. He deals the +cards--or something. He must have known!" Two tears fell into her lap. +"To think that my father has fallen to that!--has fallen so low! And +when Charlie said that to him," she cried desperately, "it almost +b--broke my heart." + +Her voice shook and suddenly she bowed her head upon her arms, which +were resting on the table, and broke into a passion of tears; wild +weeping, such as Fox had never known--had never supposed could come +from her. She had always seemed so beautifully poised, so steady and +so sturdy; like a rock, on which others built their foundations. But +the rod had smitten her and the springs were unbound. He had a wild +desire to take her in his arms. + +But he didn't--then. He only murmured something meant to be +comforting. God knew he wanted to comfort her; wanted to as he had +never wanted anything in his life before. He would, if he only knew +how. But the wild weeping had given way to a subdued sobbing. + +"And--it--it alm--most b--broke my heart," she sobbed, "to re--refuse +what he asked. B--but I had to do it. I h--had to do it, Fox. I +c--couldn't do anything else." She caught her breath. She could not go +on for a minute. + +Only an inarticulate murmur came from Fox. + +"Father was such a pathetic figure!" Sally went on a soon as she could +speak. "Of course I know that he is not always so--that he is seldom +so. There were mother and Charlie to think of. But it seemed so +terrible! And he was so patient under Charlie's--treatment--his own +father! I can't get him out of my--" + +Her wild weeping, restrained for a moment, broke out again. + +"Sally!" Fox murmured, leaning forward and laying a hand upon her +knee. "Sally, dear!" + +There was a great distress and a great longing in his look, but Sally +had her head down and she did not see it. But it was in his voice and +she may have heard it. He rose impulsively from his chair and went to +her quickly--it was only a step--and he sat on the arm of her chair +and put his arm around her. + +"Sally, dear!" he implored. "Don't cry so! Please don't." + +She did not repulse him, as he had feared she would, gently, of +course, but firmly; but she did not yield either. It was as if, for +the moment, he was nothing to her--nothing more than a brother; not +_her_ brother, thank heaven! She only sobbed, there, for some +minutes--in his arms. That was enough. + +She became more quiet in time. She still had her head down upon one +arm, but she was feeling up her sleeve and under her belt, searching +for something. + +"Forgive me, F--Fox," she said, "I didn't mean to do it, but I'm +t--tired out and--and I can't find my handkerchief." She laughed a +little hysterically. "Have you got one to l--lend me, Fox? I c--can't +lift my head be--because I'm crying and I've cried all over your table +and into your chair--" + +"Drat the table! What do you suppose I care about it, Sally?" + +"You--you ought to. I--it's a very pretty table." + +"I value it only because it holds your tears." Fox was unfolding a +handkerchief. It was a very large handkerchief. He put it into her +seeking hand. "I remember another occasion when you had to borrow a +handkerchief," he said. "Do you remember it, Sally?" + +She nodded and began to mop her eyes. "Mercy! I--I didn't want a +sheet, Fox," she said. + +Fox smiled. "I didn't know. You might." His voice was not steady as +he went on. "Sally," he whispered, "I--I want you. I want you!" + +She gave another hysterical laugh. "Well," she cried, "anybody +w--would th--think that y--you had me." + +"Have I, Sally dear?" he asked, still in that low whisper. "Have I?" +He bent over her neck. That was the only part of her that he could +reach--that neck with its little tendrils of waving hair. + +"Oh, don't!" she cried hastily. "Don't, Fox. You haven't got me--yet," +she added in a whisper which was barely audible. But Fox heard it. +"It--it isn't because--because you are sorry for me?" she asked in a +very small voice. + +"No," Fox was smiling again; but, as Sally had her eyes hidden, of +course she did not see it. "I am sorry for you as I can be, but that +isn't the reason. Guess again." + +"Are you _sure_, Fox? _Very_ sure?" she asked. "Say that you are, +Fox," she whispered. "Can't you please say that you are?" + +"I am sure." + +"And it isn't be--because m--my father," the small voice asked again, +"because my father is a--" + +"No. That isn't the reason either. I'm quite sure, Sally." + +Sally's head was still down on the table and she was wiping away her +tears. + +"But, Fox," she protested, "you ought not to, you know." + +"I ought," he replied indignantly. "I ought to have done it long ago. +Why not?" + +Sally smiled at the table. "M--my father," she returned, not at all +dismally, "would disgrace you--very likely. He's a d--" + +He interrupted her. "I don't care what he is, Sally," he said softly. +"I don't care about anything--but this." + +"And my brother is a gambler," she went on, in a disgracefully happy +voice, considering what she was saying,--"with not much hope that he +will be anything else. I don't deceive myself." + +"Only the greater reason," he said, more softly yet. "I want you, +Sally." + +"Do you? After that?" + +"You may believe it--dearest." + +She gave a sudden, happy little cry. "Oh, I believe it. I want to +believe it. I have wanted to for more than two years--ever--since the +night of the fire." She lifted her head, the tears shining in her +eyes; something else shining there. "Then I don't care for--for +Margaret--or--or anybody else; or any--any--thing"--her voice sank to +a whisper once more--"but you." + +Sally raised her eyes slowly to his. They were shy eyes, and very +tender. And Fox looked into their depths and saw--but what he saw +concerns only him and Sally. He seemed satisfied with what he saw. He +held her closer. Sally's eyes filled slowly and overflowed at last, +and she shut them. + +"I'm crying because I'm so happy," she whispered. + +Fox bent and kissed her. "I don't care for Margaret or for anybody +else but you," he murmured, "and I never have cared for anybody else. +I don't know what you mean. Who is Margaret?" + +Sally opened her eyes. "You don't know?" she asked in surprise. + +"I don't know. You have spoken of her before--as if I ought to know +all about her. Who is she and why must I know about her?" + +She did not answer at once. Her eyes were deep and shining and, her +eyes searching his, she put up her arms--slowly--slowly--about his +neck. "Oh, Fox, dear!" she cried softly. "Oh, Fox, dear! And you don't +know!" + +She laughed low and happily. Then she drew his head down--it came +readily enough-- + +When Sally emerged, a minute or two later, she was blushing. She +seemed burning up. She hid her burning cheeks in Fox's shoulder. + +"Fox," she murmured from her hiding place, "don't you remember +Margaret Savage?" + +"Oh, yes," he answered quite cheerfully. "She is very pretty now--very +attractive to the young men--but she's as much of a fool as ever." + +Sally laughed again. "And Henrietta told me," she said, "that you +might succumb. So you see that, when you spoke of getting married--" + +"Why, I meant you, all the time." + +"Ye--es, but I didn't know that--and--and I thought that you meant +Margaret and--and Henrietta's remarks set me to thinking and +then--then, pretty soon, I knew that--that I loved you, Fox, and I was +very unhappy. Oh, Fox, I _was_ unhappy!" + +"I'm sorry, darling. I'm very sorry. Sally!" + +She looked up at him and, as she looked, the red once more mounted +slowly, flooding her throat and then her cheeks. Again she put her +arms up and drew his head down. + +The crimson flood had left her face and there was in it only a lovely +color as she lay back in his arms. "Don't you love me, Fox?" + +He laughed. "Love you! Love you! I should think it was--" + +"Then," she asked, "why don't you say so, sir? You haven't said so +yet--not once." His arms tightened about her. "Close, Fox, dear!" she +whispered. "Hold me closer. I don't want to get away, ever." + +It was getting late when they finally stood at a window from which +they could see the little cream-colored house--they had got as far as +that--and the grove behind it. + +"I want to open that house," Fox was saying. "I want to live in it." + +"_I_ want to live in it," Sally said. + +"But," he returned quickly, "you know what must happen first. How +soon, Sally?" + +"Just as soon as ever I can manage it, dear. You may depend upon that. +And now I must go. I'm disgracefully late, even now." + +She hastily rearranged her hair, which, strangely enough, was much +disordered, and she put on her hat. Then she stood before him. + +"Now, don't you be troubled about your father, Sally, or about +Charlie, or anything. We will take care of those troubles together." + +"As if you hadn't always tried to take those troubles off my +shoulders!" She raised her radiant eyes to his. "If this is what you +meant by 'paying in kind,' you shall be paid, Fox. Oh, you _shall_ be +paid. And, dear, nothing troubles me now. Do you understand? +_Nothing_. Now I must run. Don't come with me. People couldn't help +noticing something. Good night." + +Once more she kissed him, and she was gone, walking buoyantly and +turning more than once to wave to him. Fox's eyes were wet as he +watched her. + +"Bless you, Sally! God go with you!" + +God go with you, Sally! + + +THE END + + + + + The Riverside Press + CAMBRIDGE · MASSACHUSETTS + U·S·A + + + + +OLD HARBOR + +By WILLIAM JOHN HOPKINS + + +"A charming picture of an old New England seaport.... It is a book to +close reluctantly with the hope of soon opening another volume by the +same author."--_New York Times._ + +"A tale to chuckle over.... It is not often that a reader has an +opportunity in the pages of a book to come in touch with such a group +of genial and lovable people."--_Minneapolis Journal._ + +"A cheerful, amusing story of old-fashioned people.... The author is a +genuine humorist."--_Boston Transcript._ + +"A story conceived in the same spirit as 'The Clammer,' filled with +the same philosophy, displaying the same keen insight."--_Brooklyn +Eagle._ + + +Square crown 8vo. $1.25 _net._ Postage 14 cents + + + HOUGHTON + MIFFLIN + COMPANY + + [Illustration] + + BOSTON + AND + NEW YORK + + + + +THE MEDDLINGS OF EVE + +By WILLIAM J. HOPKINS + + +"Mr. Hopkins is a true humorist. His distinction is to have found a +new literary field and to have peopled it with original and living +characters that may not unjustly give him claim to rank with the best +of our living American writers."--_Boston Transcript._ + +"Humor, dignity, and most perfect human love shine out in these +charming stories."--_The Outlook._ + +"Mr. Hopkins is a master of the sort of quiet humor which makes the +charm of these stories."--_Congregationalist._ + +"A story full of subtle situations ... a delightful volume."--_San +Francisco Chronicle._ + + +Tall 12mo, $1.00 _net._ Postage 9 cents. + + + HOUGHTON + MIFFLIN + COMPANY + + [Illustration] + + BOSTON + AND + NEW YORK + + + * * * * * + + +-----------------------------------------------------------+ + | Typographical errors corrected in text: | + | | + | Page 209: minature replaced with miniature | + | Page 361: "and and" replaced with "and" | + | Page 361: "in which the might conceal herself" | + | replaced with | + | "in which she might conceal herself" | + | Page 363: persusasively replaced with persuasively | + | Page 372: embarassed replaced with embarrassed | + | Page 379: enought replaced with enough | + | Page 383: "You may sure" replaced with "You may be sure" | + | | + +-----------------------------------------------------------+ + + * * * * * + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Concerning Sally, by William John Hopkins + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CONCERNING SALLY *** + +***** This file should be named 37118-8.txt or 37118-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/1/1/37118/ + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Jeannie Howse and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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: Concerning Sally + +Author: William John Hopkins + +Release Date: August 18, 2011 [EBook #37118] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CONCERNING SALLY *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Jeannie Howse and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> + +<div class="tr"> +<p class="cen" style="font-weight: bold;">Transcriber's Note:</p> +<br /> +<p class="noin">Inconsistent hyphenation in the original document has been preserved. This e-book has stuttering dialect.</p> +<p class="noin">The Table of Contents is provided for the reader's benefit.</p> +<p class="noin" style="text-align: left;">Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. +For a complete list, please see the <span style="white-space: nowrap;"><a href="#TN">end of this document</a>.</span></p> +</div> + +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> + +<div class="img"> +<img border="0" src="images/cover.jpg" width="50%" alt="Book Cover" /> +</div> + +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> + + +<h3>By William John Hopkins</h3> +<br /> + +<p class="noin" style="margin-left: 40%;">CONCERNING SALLY.<br /> +THE INDIAN BOOK. Illustrated.<br /> +THE MEDDLINGS OF EVE.<br /> +OLD HARBOR.<br /> +THE CLAMMER.</p> + +<br /> + +<p class="cen"> +HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY<br /> +<span class="sc">Boston and New York</span></p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<h2>CONCERNING SALLY</h2> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> + +<h1>CONCERNING<br /> +SALLY</h1> + +<br /> + +<h4>BY</h4> + +<h3>WILLIAM JOHN HOPKINS</h3> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<div class="img"> +<img border="0" src="images/deco.png" width="10%" alt="Publisher's Mark" /> +</div> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<h4>BOSTON AND NEW YORK<br /> +HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY<br /> +The Riverside Press Cambridge<br /> +1912</h4> + +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<h4>COPYRIGHT, 1912, BY WILLIAM JOHN HOPKINS<br /> +ALL RIGHTS RESERVED<br /> +<br /> +<i>Published September 1912</i></h4> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="toc" id="toc"></a><hr /> +<br /> + +<h3>Contents</h3> +<br /> + +<p class="cen"><a href="#BOOK_I"><b>BOOK I</b></a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_I"><b>CHAPTER I</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II"><b>CHAPTER II</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III"><b>CHAPTER III</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV"><b>CHAPTER IV</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V"><b>CHAPTER V</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI"><b>CHAPTER VI</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII"><b>CHAPTER VII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"><b>CHAPTER VIII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX"><b>CHAPTER IX</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X"><b>CHAPTER X</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI"><b>CHAPTER XI</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII"><b>CHAPTER XII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII"><b>CHAPTER XIII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV"><b>CHAPTER XIV</b></a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#BOOK_II"><b>BOOK II</b></a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_I2"><b>CHAPTER I</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II2"><b>CHAPTER II</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III2"><b>CHAPTER III</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV2"><b>CHAPTER IV</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V2"><b>CHAPTER V</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI2"><b>CHAPTER VI</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII2"><b>CHAPTER VII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII2"><b>CHAPTER VIII</b></a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#BOOK_III"><b>BOOK III</b></a><br /> +<br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_I3"><b>CHAPTER I</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II3"><b>CHAPTER II</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III3"><b>CHAPTER III</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV3"><b>CHAPTER IV</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V3"><b>CHAPTER V</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI3"><b>CHAPTER VI</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII3"><b>CHAPTER VII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII3"><b>CHAPTER VIII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX3"><b>CHAPTER IX</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X3"><b>CHAPTER X</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI3"><b>CHAPTER XI</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII3"><b>CHAPTER XII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII3"><b>CHAPTER XIII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV3"><b>CHAPTER XIV</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XV3"><b>CHAPTER XV</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI3"><b>CHAPTER XVI</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII3"><b>CHAPTER XVII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII3"><b>CHAPTER XVIII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX3"><b>CHAPTER XIX</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XX3"><b>CHAPTER XX</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI3"><b>CHAPTER XXI</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII3"><b>CHAPTER XXII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII3"><b>CHAPTER XXIII</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV3"><b>CHAPTER XXIV</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXV3"><b>CHAPTER XXV</b></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI3"><b>CHAPTER XXVI</b></a></p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="BOOK_I" id="BOOK_I"></a><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a><hr /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<h2>BOOK I</h2> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span><br /> + +<h2>CONCERNING SALLY</h2> + +<br /> +<br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER I<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>Professor Ladue sat at his desk, in his own room, looking out of the +window. What he might have seen out of that window was enough, one +would think, to make any man contented with his lot, especially a man +of the ability of Professor Ladue. He had almost attained to eminence +in his own line, which, it is to be presumed, is all that any of us +can hope to attain to—each in his own line.</p> + +<p>Out of Professor Ladue's window there might have been seen, first, a +huge tree, the leaves upon which were fast turning from the deep green +of late summer to a deep copper brown with spots of brilliant yellow. +If his eyes were weary of resting in the shadow of that great tree, +his gaze might go farther and fare no worse: to other trees, not too +thickly massed, each in the process of turning its own particular +color and each of them attaining to eminence in its own line without +perceptible effort; to the little river which serenely pursued its +winding and untroubled course; or to the distant hills.</p> + +<p>But Professor Ladue, it is to be feared, saw none of these things. He +was unconscious of the vista before his eyes. A slight smile was on +his handsome face, but the smile was not altogether a pleasant one. He +withdrew his gaze and glanced distastefully about the room: at the +small bundle of papers on his desk, representing his work; at the +skull which adorned the desk top; at the half-mounted skeleton of some +small reptile of a prehistoric age lying between the windows; at his +bed. It was an inoffensive bed; merely a narrow cot, tucked out of the +way as completely as might <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span>be. Professor Ladue did not care for +luxury, at any rate not in beds, so long as they were comfortable, and +the bed took up very little room, which was important.</p> + +<p>As his glance took in these things, a slight expression of disgust took +the place of the smile, for a moment; then the smile returned. All +expressions in which Professor Ladue indulged were slight. There was +nothing the matter with him. He was only tired of work—temporarily +sick of the sight of it; which is not an unusual state of mind, for any +of us. It may be deplored or it may be regarded as merely the normal +state of rebellion of a healthy mind at too much work. That depends +largely upon where we draw the line. We might not all draw it where +Professor Ladue drew it. And he did not deplore the state of mind in +which he found himself. It was a state of mind in which he was finding +himself with growing frequency, and when he was in it his sole wish was +to be diverted.</p> + +<p>He opened a drawer in his desk, dumped therein the papers, and, +removing from it a box of cigarettes, took one and slipped the box +into his pocket. After various tappings and gentle thumpings in the +manner of your cigarette-smoker, designed, I suppose, to remove some +of the tobacco which the maker had carefully put into it, the +cigarette seemed to be considered worthy of his lips. I have no doubt +that it was. So he lighted it, cast the match thoughtfully into the +empty grate, and rose slowly.</p> + +<p>He dawdled a minute at the window, looked at his watch, muttered +briefly, and went briskly out and down the stairs.</p> + +<p>He took his overcoat from the rack in the hall and removed the +cigarette from his lips for a moment.</p> + +<p>"Sarah!" he called curtly.</p> + +<p>His voice was clear and penetrating and full of authority. If I had +been Sarah, the quality of that one word, as he uttered it, would have +filled me with resentment. A door almost at his elbow opened quickly +and a girl appeared. She was well grown and seemed to be about twelve. +She was really ten.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span>"What is it, father?" she asked; I had almost said that she demanded +it, but there was no lack of respect in her voice. "Please don't +disturb mother. She has a headache. I'm taking care of Charlie. What +is it?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Sally," he said. It appeared as if he might even be afraid of +her, just a little, with her seriousness and her direct ways and her +great eyes that seemed to see right through a man. He gave a little +laugh which he intended to be light. It wasn't. "Oh, all right, Sally. +You're a very good girl, my dear."</p> + +<p>Sally did not smile, but looked at him steadily, waiting for him to +say what he had to say.</p> + +<p>"Tell your mother, Sally," the professor went on, "that I find I have +to go into town to attend to an important matter at the college. I may +be late in getting out. In fact, she mustn't be worried if I don't +come to-night. It is possible that I may be kept too late for the last +train. I am sorry that she has a headache. They seem to be getting +more frequent."</p> + +<p>Sally bowed her head gravely. "Yes," she said, "they do."</p> + +<p>"Well, tell her that I am very sorry. If I could do anything for her, +I should, of course, be only too happy. But I can't and there doesn't +appear to be any good purpose served by my giving up my trip to town." +In this the professor may, conceivably, have been wrong. "Give her my +message, my dear, and take good care of Charlie. Good-bye, Sally."</p> + +<p>The professor stooped and imprinted a cold kiss upon her forehead. +Sally received it impassively without expressing any emotion whatever.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, father," she said. "I will tell mother."</p> + +<p>Professor Ladue went out and walked jauntily down the road toward the +station. No good purpose will be served, to use his own words, by +following him farther at this time. Sally went soberly back to the +library, where she had left Charlie; she went very soberly, indeed. No +Charlie was to be seen; but, with a skill born of experience, she +dived under <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span>the sofa and haled him forth, covered with dust and +squealing at the top of his lungs.</p> + +<p>"I hided," he shouted.</p> + +<p>"Sh—h, Charlie. You'll disturb mother. Poor mother's got a pain in +her head." The sombre gray eyes suddenly filled with tears, and she +hugged the boy tight. "Oh, Charlie, Charlie! I'm afraid that father's +going to do it again."</p> + +<p>Charlie whimpered in sympathy. Perhaps, too, Sally had hugged him too +tight for comfort. His whimper was becoming a wail when she succeeded +in hushing him. Then she heard a soft step coming slowly down the +stairs.</p> + +<p>"Now, Charlie," she said reproachfully, "it's too bad. Here's mother +coming down. I wish," she began, impatiently; then she checked herself +suddenly, for the boy's lips were puckering. "Never mind. Laugh, now."</p> + +<p>It is not strange that the boy could not accommodate himself to such +sudden changes. He was only six. But he tried faithfully, and would +have succeeded if he had been given more time. The door opened gently.</p> + +<p>"Sally, dear," said a soft voice, "I thought that I heard the front +door shut. Has your father gone out?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ladue was gentle and pretty and sweet-looking; and with a tired +look about the eyes that seldom left her now. She had not had that +look about the eyes when she married young Mr. Ladue, thirteen years +before. There were few women who would not have had it if they had +been married to him for thirteen years. That had been a mistake, as it +had turned out. For his own good, as well as hers, he should have had +a different kind of a wife: none of your soft, gentle women, but a +woman who could habitually bully him into subjection and enjoy the +process. The only difficulty about that is that he would never have +married a woman who habitually bullied. He wanted to do any bullying +that there was to be done. Not that he actually did any, as it is +usually understood, but there was that in his manner that led one to +think that it was just beneath the surface; and by "one" <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span>I mean his +wife and daughter,—no doubt, I should have said "two." As for Sally, +the traditional respect that is due a father from a daughter was all +that prevented her from finding out whether it was there. To be sure, +his manner toward her was different. It seemed almost as if he were +afraid of Sally; afraid of his own daughter, aged ten. Stranger things +have happened.</p> + +<p>If Mrs. Ladue knew that she had made a mistake, thirteen years before, +she never acknowledged it to herself when she thought of her children. +She beckoned Charlie to her now.</p> + +<p>"Come here, darling boy," she said, stooping.</p> + +<p>Charlie came, with a rush, and threw his arms about his mother's neck.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Charlie," cried Sally quickly, "remember mother's head. Be +careful!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ladue smiled gently. "Never mind, Sally. Let him be as he is. It +makes my head no worse to have my little boy hugging me. Has your +father gone out?" she asked again.</p> + +<p>Sally's eyes grew resentful. "Yes," she answered. "He left a message +for you. He said I was to tell you that he was very sorry you had a +headache and that if he could do anything for you he would be only too +happy." Sally's voice insensibly took on a mocking quality. "And—and +there was something about his being called into town by pressing +matters and you were not to be worried if he missed the last train +and—and—" She burst into a passion of tears. "Oh, mother, dear, I +don't believe a word of it. I'm afraid he'll come back like—like—" +Her whole form quivered with the energy of her utterance. There was no +doubt that she meant what she said so violently. "I <i>hate</i>—"</p> + +<p>"Hush, darling, hush! Never say that." Mrs. Ladue drew her little +daughter close and patted her shoulder.</p> + +<p>Sally's crying ceased abruptly, but the muscles were all tense under +her mother's hand. She smiled bravely.</p> + +<p>"Now, mother, dear," she said, "I have made it worse, haven't I? I +didn't mean to do that—to cry. Truly, I <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span>didn't. I won't ever do it +again." She put one arm about her mother's neck and stroked her +forehead gently. "Mother, darling, doesn't it make your head just a +little better to have your little daughter hu—hug—ging you, too?" +And she hid her face in her mother's neck.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ladue's eyes filled with tears. "My dearest little daughter!" she +murmured, kissing her. "If only you could be happy! If only you didn't +take things so to heart! Mother's own dear little girl!" She rose and +spoke brightly. "Now, let's all go out into this lovely day and be +happy together."</p> + +<p>Sally smiled. "Yes," she said, "we'll all be happy together. Don't you +think, mother, that it will make your head better?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied Mrs. Ladue, "I think it will."</p> + +<p>So they went out to the trees and the river and the hills. But Sally +did not skip. Charlie, it is to be noted, did; Charlie, who had said +nothing about being happy. It is to be presumed that they were all +ecstatically happy; for had they not assured one another that they +would be?</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER II<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>It is to be feared that Professor Ladue had gone and done it again, as +Sally said. Not that Sally knew what "it" was, nor did her mother +know, either. Indeed, Mrs. Ladue made no inquiries concerning that +point, being glad to put the most favorable construction possible upon +the matter and, perhaps, afraid that she would not be able to do so if +she knew any more. Perhaps, too, she realized that, unless she pursued +her inquiries among comparative strangers, she would learn nothing. +The professor would lie freely and skillfully, assuming that he +considered it necessary or desirable to lie, and might be led to bully +a little. Whatever course he might take, she would be no better off. +So, as I said, she made no inquiries, which may have been wise or it +may not; and she kept on hoping, although each occasion left her with +less ground for any reasonable hope.</p> + +<p>At all events, Professor Ladue came back early the next afternoon in +the most fiendish temper, which may have been due to excess in any of +its customary forms. Whatever the exact cause, the effect was, +apparently, to make him hate himself and everybody with whom he came +in contact. Mrs. Ladue was aware of the state of mind that he would be +in, from experience, I suppose; an experience which she did not seem +at all anxious to repeat. Sally was aware of it, too, and even Charlie +seemed to realize that any meeting with his father was to be avoided. +So it happened that Professor Ladue found the way into the house and +to his room unobstructed. His wife and his children were nowhere to be +seen; which circumstance, in itself, annoyed him exceedingly, although +it is probable that he would have found their presence equally +annoying.</p> + +<p>Once in his room, he paced to and fro for a few minutes, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span>nervously; +then he took off his coat and bathed his head and face with cold +water, pouring it over his head repeatedly. When he had rubbed his +head partially dry he appeared to feel somewhat better, and he seated +himself, frowning, at his desk, and tried to apply himself to his +work. In this, as he undoubtedly expected, he was not very successful. +He would not have expected one of his own students to be able to apply +himself to work with any success under similar circumstances, whatever +those circumstances were. So he pushed his work aside with some +impatience, got up, took the skull from the desk and handled it +absently. The feel of the skull seemed to suggest some ideas to him, +for he put it down, went to the half-mounted skeleton of that ancient +reptile that I have mentioned as lying between his windows, and began +to work in earnest.</p> + +<p>He soon became interested; so much interested that he was forgetting +about his head, which felt as if it had been pounded with +hammers,—tiny hammers which had not yet finished their work, whatever +it was,—and he was forgetting about his eyes, which ached as if the +pressure of blood behind the eyeballs was forcing them out of his +head. He didn't know but it was; but it didn't matter. And he was +forgetting about his body, every bone and muscle of which was crying +out for rest and sleep. He sat there, on the floor under one of his +windows, puzzling over a bone which he held in his hand, and +completely absorbed.</p> + +<p>Suddenly he glanced involuntarily out of the window. There sat Sally, +astride a limb of the great tree, looking in at him intently. She was +a most annoying child; yes, a most devilishly annoying child. He +sprang to his feet and threw up the window, almost in one motion. +Sally did not move a muscle; not even her eyes. He did not say the +sharp things that were on the tip of his tongue, he could not have +told why; he did not say anything for very nearly a minute. Under such +circumstances, a minute is a long time. Nor did Sally say anything. +She only gazed solemnly at him.</p> + +<p>"Sally," he demanded at last, "what are you doing <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span>there?" The look in +his eyes had softened. You might have mistaken it for a look of +affection.</p> + +<p>"Nothing, father," Sally answered, briefly and respectfully.</p> + +<p>"Well, what the—" Professor Ladue was at a loss for words in which to +express his exasperation. This was an unusual condition for him to be +in. "Well, why don't you get down?"</p> + +<p>"I don't want to get down," Sally returned. "I like being up here."</p> + +<p>"You'll break your neck."</p> + +<p>Sally made no reply.</p> + +<p>"Can you get down safely?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, father."</p> + +<p>"Get down, then," said Professor Ladue, less sharply than he had meant +to speak. "Don't you know that it must annoy me very much to have you +spying in upon me in that way?"</p> + +<p>"No, father, I didn't know it annoyed you," replied Sally in a +colorless voice. "I beg your pardon. But I wasn't spying on you. I was +only enjoying myself. I won't do it again."</p> + +<p>Sally began slipping and sliding and scrambling down the tree. She +seemed to have no fear and to be very familiar with the road she was +taking. She knew every foothold. Her father watched her as she went +from one insecure hold to another. It must have appeared to him a +perilous descent, one would suppose; but I do not know what he +thought. At all events, he called to her when she had swung off the +lowest branch and dropped safely. He still had in his hand that +prehistoric bone.</p> + +<p>"Sally!" he called; "don't you want to come up here?"</p> + +<p>Sally looked up, evidently greatly surprised. She was not easily +surprised.</p> + +<p>"To your room?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes," replied her father impatiently, "of course. To my room."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span>"Do you want me to?" Sally is to be excused for pressing the point. +She did not wish to make any mistake. Mistakes had been made before.</p> + +<p>"I should be greatly pleased," said the professor, smiling and bowing +airily. "I should consider it a great honor if Miss Sally Ladue would +favor me with her company at the present juncture." He leaned a little +out of the window. "You know I am working on the skeleton."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Sally. "I'll come up right away."</p> + +<p>It is to be noted that Sally had not answered the exact question which +the professor had asked her. She may have been reluctant to answer it +just as it was asked. It is to be supposed that she was aware of the +question and that she knew the answer. Sally was a truthful young +person, but she preferred to take the course that made for peace if it +was consistent with truth. The professor did not press the matter.</p> + +<p>He was again sitting on the floor when Sally knocked on the door and +came in. His head was a little better. Perhaps the tiny hammers had +nearly finished their work. At all events, he soon forgot it +completely.</p> + +<p>"Sally," he said, after he had been working for some minutes and Sally +had been watching him in silence, "what do you think this is?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, father," she answered. "Is it a—an alligator?"</p> + +<p>"No," he said, stopping and looking thoughtfully at the skeleton. "No, +it is not an alligator, although you came nearer than I should have +thought you would. You were just barely warm, Sally. It is a distant +relative of the alligator; perhaps I should call it a connection. The +thirteenth cousin of his hundred thousandth great-grandfather, or +something like that. It is a sort of a lizard, Sally. It is a very +small one."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" cried Sally. "A <i>small</i> one! A small <i>lizard</i>! Why, father!"</p> + +<p>Professor Ladue smiled. "It lived a great many thousands <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span>of years +ago. Nobody knows how many thousands of years, although they will tell +you very glibly. They don't know anything about it except that it was +a long time. I know that. This little lizard is a kind that nobody has +ever discovered; nobody except me. It is <i>my</i> lizard. It must be known +by my name. What do you think of that, Sally?"</p> + +<p>"It must be very fine," Sally murmured, "to discover things."</p> + +<p>"At that far-off time," the professor continued, "there were lots of +great horrid creeping and flying things. Even my little lizard may +have been able to fly. See! These seem to be the beginning of his wing +bones. There are some bones missing, so that I can't tell, yet, +whether he had wings that would bear him up. But probably he had. +Probably he had." And the professor relapsed into a thoughtful +silence.</p> + +<p>"Father," said Sally presently. She had been thinking and her interest +in the skeleton was more active than it had been.</p> + +<p>The professor looked up. "Any question that Miss Ladue has to ask," he +observed, "will be cheerfully answered, provided that I know the +answer. If I do not know the answer, and have the courage to say so, I +trust she will not regard me as wholly ignorant of the subject."</p> + +<p>Sally gave vent to a chuckle which was entirely unexpected; entirely +unexpected by herself, at least.</p> + +<p>"Father," she asked, as soon as she had managed to suppress her +chuckles, "then could your little lizard fly up high?"</p> + +<p>"Yep," he answered; "like a pigeon. Or, more probably, he flew more +like a bat than like a pigeon."</p> + +<p>"Right up into the tops of the trees?"</p> + +<p>"Right up into the topmost branches of the coal trees."</p> + +<p>"The <i>coal trees</i>!"</p> + +<p>"The coal trees. Fed on the fruit. Large lizards customarily ate +furnace coal, middle-sized lizards ate stove coal. Little lizards ate +chestnut coal."</p> + +<p>Sally burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. In all her +experience of her father, she had never known him to be so amusing.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span>"And the littlest lizards?"</p> + +<p>"Ate pea coal," replied the professor promptly, "and the tiniest +babies ate buckwheat coal. Very nourishing, chestnuts and peas and +buckwheat. Cracked it with their teeth."</p> + +<p>Sally was still giggling.</p> + +<p>"Seriously, Sally," said the professor, with a change of manner, "by +the coal trees I meant the trees which have become the coal we are +burning in the stove and the furnace and to make steam. I see no +reason to doubt that this little lizard could fly up into the tops of +the trees. Perhaps he actually alighted on some tree which we now have +down cellar in the coal bin."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" cried Sally. "Let's suppose he did. And what did he see from his +topmost branch?"</p> + +<p>"Very little," replied the professor, "except treetops and a swamp or +two."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Sally, "it's rather disappointing. But I wish I could +have seen it."</p> + +<p>"Then," said her father solemnly, "there would now be nothing left of +you but a skeleton which I would be puzzling my brains over. It would +be somewhat disconcerting, Sally, to find a skeleton of a little girl +among these bones of a past age; very disconcerting, indeed, to find +that of Miss Sally Ladue."</p> + +<p>"But how would you know it was Miss Sally Ladue's skeleton?" asked +Sally, her eyes twinkling.</p> + +<p>"That is a poser," her father answered. "I should know it, though. If +there were no other means of identifying it, I should know it for Miss +Ladue's by the large bump of inquisitiveness on the skull."</p> + +<p>"What's my bump of inquisitiveness?"</p> + +<p>The professor turned towards her. "Hand me that skull on my desk, and +I'll show you." Sally obediently handed him the skull. "There it is," +he continued. "You can see it, although it is not as large as your +own. Come here and let us see if it is."</p> + +<p>Sally came.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span>"The phrenologists," he began, feeling of her head, "would—hello!"</p> + +<p>"Ouch!" cried Sally, squirming but giggling irrepressibly, +nevertheless.</p> + +<p>"It is a very large bump," said the professor gravely; "unexpectedly +large, even for you. What makes it so large, Sally?"</p> + +<p>"I—I fell out of a tree yesterday," Sally said. "I suppose it was +that."</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes," the professor returned; "and because the bump was so large +by nature it stuck out in a most inappropriate and uncomfortable way +and was made more inappropriate and uncomfortable. It might be safer +for you if you could fly, like my little lizard."</p> + +<p>"I wish I could," said Sally; "I wish I could fly into the top of any +tree I wanted to."</p> + +<p>"You find the trees very attractive?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I do," Sally replied, simply. "You can see a lot from the top of +a tall tree. The trouble is that you can't find big enough branches +when you get nearly to the top."</p> + +<p>"No," observed the professor, "I can't. If I could, I suppose I might +climb trees oftener. It is very disconcerting to get almost up, just +where the leaves are thickest, and find that I can't get any higher +and can't see anything to speak of, either. And twigs that you +wouldn't hesitate to trust yourself upon, Sally, are not nearly big +enough for me. That," he finished, reflectively, "is, I think, the +only reason why I have given up tree-climbing at such an early age."</p> + +<p>Sally chuckled delightedly. "Did you climb trees when you were a boy, +father?"</p> + +<p>"Huh! Climb trees! Gracious, yes. Used to run right up one side and +down the other. Tallest trees I could find, too. Hundreds of feet +high. Did I use to climb trees!" The professor turned away in excess +of scorn.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" cried Sally, clapping her hands.</p> + +<p>"Climb trees!" murmured the professor. "Why, there was one tree that I +remember—"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span>He was interrupted, at this point, by a gentle knock at the door.</p> + +<p>"That sounds like your mother's knock, Sally. Will you be kind enough +to see?"</p> + +<p>It was Mrs. Ladue. She had heard the unaccustomed sounds of merriment +issuing from her husband's room and had come up—rather timidly, it +must be confessed—to see what it was all about. If her heart was +fluttering a little with symptoms of hope, as she came, it is not to +be wondered at. There was another reason for her coming, although she +was not conscious that it had weight with her.</p> + +<p>She was half smiling as she entered; half smiling in a doubtful, +hesitating sort of way, ready to let the smile develop in its own +lovely manner or to check it and let it fade away, according to +circumstances. Sally held tightly to her hand. Professor Ladue got +upon his feet with more agility than would have been expected of him.</p> + +<p>"Sally and I were having a session with my lizard," he said, "and were +variously entertaining ourselves. I hope your head is better, Sarah."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ladue appeared to see some reason for letting her smile take its +natural course. It was a very lovely smile, almost tender. Professor +Ladue should have been a very proud and happy man that it was for him. +There is no reason to think that he was.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Charlie," she replied. "It is all right, to-day. Won't you +and Sally go on with your session and let me be a visitor? It must +have been a very amusing session. I don't know when I have heard Sally +laugh so much."</p> + +<p>Sally clapped her hands again. "Oh, do," she said. "You were going to +tell me about a tree, father. What about it?"</p> + +<p>Professor Ladue talked much nonsense in the next half-hour and was +surprisingly gay; and Sally sat, holding her mother's hand, and +smiling and chuckling and enjoying it intensely. Of course Mrs. Ladue +enjoyed it. The professor seemed so genial and care-free that she +reproached herself for her doubts. She even thought, unfortunately, +that it <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span>was a favorable time for asking for something that she was +very much in need of. But she hesitated, even then.</p> + +<p>"Charlie," she said timidly, as they were going, "can you—can you let +me have this week's money for the house? Katie, you know,—we owe her +for two weeks, and there's the—"</p> + +<p>Professor Ladue interrupted her. "Money?" he said airily. "Money? +What's money? Certainly, my dear. Help yourself. You're welcome to +anything you find there."</p> + +<p>He tossed her his pocketbook and turned back to his skeleton. Perhaps +it was to hide some embarrassment; perhaps it was only to indicate +that, so far as he was concerned, the incident was closed. For the +pocketbook was empty.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ladue spoke low and tried hard to keep any hint of reproach out +of her voice. "Did you—did you lose it?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I must have lost it, if there was anything to lose," +Professor Ladue replied nonchalantly. He did not turn away from his +work.</p> + +<p>"And—and did you notify the police?"</p> + +<p>"No, my dear, I have not notified the police, yet." He smiled dryly as +he spoke. "I will take that matter under advisement."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ladue did not push the question further. There were tears in her +eyes as she joined Sally.</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother," cried Sally joyously, "wasn't it fun? Did you ever know +that father could be so funny?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, darling child. He was full of fun and nonsense before we were +married, and for some years after."</p> + +<p>She bent and kissed her daughter, but would say no more.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER III<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>Sally was not completely deprived of the society of other children, +although her temperament made this question a rather difficult one. +Her father did not bother himself about Sally's goings and comings, +which was quite what would have been expected. Indeed, he bothered +himself very little about the doings of his family; as a general +thing, he did not know what they did, nor did he care, so long as they +refrained from interference with his own actions. They had learned to +do that.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ladue did bother herself about Sally's doings a good deal, in +spite of the difficulty of the question; and one would have thought +that she had her fill of difficult questions. She went to the door and +looked out. She saw Charlie playing alone near the foot of a tree. He +was tied to the tree by a long string, one end of which was about his +body, under his arms.</p> + +<p>"Charlie," she called, "where's Sally?"</p> + +<p>Charlie looked up, impatiently, and shook his head. Mrs. Ladue +repeated her question.</p> + +<p>"Up there," he answered, pointing into the tree above his head. "And +I'm a giraffe in a menagerie and giraffes can't talk, mother."</p> + +<p>"Oh, excuse me, little giraffe," she said, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Great, <i>big</i> giraffe. <i>Not</i> little giraffe."</p> + +<p>Meanwhile there had been a sound of scrambling in the tree and Sally +dropped to the ground.</p> + +<p>"Did you want me, mother?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I only thought that you have had the care of Charlie for a long time. +Don't you want to go up to Margaret Savage's and play with her?" This +was, perhaps, the hundredth time that Mrs. Ladue had asked that +question.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>"No, mother," Sally replied, also for the hundredth time, "I don't. +But if you want me to go, I will."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ladue laughed outright at her daughter's directness. "Why?" she +asked. "I am really curious to know why you don't like to play with +other little girls."</p> + +<p>"They are so stupid, mother," Sally answered quietly. "I have a lot +better time alone."</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear little daughter," began Mrs. Ladue, laughing again; and +there she stopped. "I should like, Sally,—I should like it very much, +if I could manage to send you to dancing-school this winter."</p> + +<p>"Very well, mother," said Sally again.</p> + +<p>"But I don't know what your father would think of the idea."</p> + +<p>"No," Sally returned. "You can't ever tell, can you?"</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't you like to go and be with the other children and do what +they do?"</p> + +<p>Sally was quite serious. "I don't think it would be very interesting," +she said. "But if you want me to go, I will."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ladue sighed; then she laughed. "Well, Sally, dear," she said, +"run along and play in your own way. At any rate, I can trust you."</p> + +<p>"Yes, mother, dear, you can."</p> + +<p>And Sally ran out, quite happy, to untie the giraffe.</p> + +<p>"What you goin' to do, Sally?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Giraffes can't talk," remarked Sally.</p> + +<p>"Aren't a giraffe. I'm the keeper. But I'll turn into a giraffe again +as soon as you answer me."</p> + +<p>"I'm going down in that little clump by the wall, where there are +plenty of things for giraffes to eat."</p> + +<p>Reminded that he was hungry, Charlie began to cry.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" asked Sally, stopping short.</p> + +<p>"Don't <i>want</i> to be a giraffe and eat old leaves and things," Charlie +wailed. "Can't I have some gingerbread, Sally?"</p> + +<p>"Well, here," said Sally. She took from her pocket some little +crackers, which she gave him. "I guess those won't hurt you."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span>Charlie made no reply, being busy with the crackers; and Sally led him +into the clump by the wall and tied him.</p> + +<p>"Sally," asked Charlie, somewhat anxiously, "what you goin' to do?"</p> + +<p>"I'm going up in the tree, of course."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but Sally, what will you be?"</p> + +<p>"I haven't decided," replied Sally thoughtfully. "I'll be deciding +while I go up." She turned and began to climb the tree, skillfully. +She had got no farther than the lower branches when she stopped. "Oh, +I'll tell you, Charlie," she cried. "It's just the thing. I'll be +father's little lizard."</p> + +<p>"What lizard?" Charlie demanded.</p> + +<p>"Father's little lizard, that he's got the skeleton of, up in his +room."</p> + +<p>"Isn't any little lizard," Charlie returned, very positively. "That's +a croc."</p> + +<p>"It is, too, a lizard, Charlie. Father said so."</p> + +<p>"Lizards are little weenty things," Charlie objected. "'Sides, they +don't live in trees."</p> + +<p>Sally did not feel sure on this point, so she evaded it.</p> + +<p>"That little lizard lived millions of years ago." What were a few +million years, more or less, to her? "And father said that it could +fly like a bat. It used to fly right up into the coal trees and—and +eat the coal that grew on them." Sally was giggling at the +recollection. "Now, this is a coal tree and I'm that little lizard, +and this is millions of years ago."</p> + +<p>Charlie had been paralyzed into momentary silence by the information +poured into him so rapidly. The silence was but momentary, but Sally +took advantage of it and climbed swiftly.</p> + +<p>"Sally!"</p> + +<p>Sally paused. "What?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"You that same lizard that father has the skeleton of?"</p> + +<p>Sally acknowledged that she was.</p> + +<p>"Then," Charlie retorted, "you haven't got any bones in you. They're +up in father's room."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span>Sally chuckled, but she did not reply to this remark directly.</p> + +<p>"Charlie," she called, "you be a saurus something."</p> + +<p>"Don't <i>want</i> to be a—Sally, what's a—that thing that you said for +me to be? What is it?"</p> + +<p>"Well," replied Sally slowly, "it's an animal kind of like an +alligator—and such things, you know. I guess I'm one. And Charlie, +you can't talk. Animals—especially sauruses—<i>never</i> talked."</p> + +<p>"Parrots can," returned Charlie sullenly.</p> + +<p>Sally did not think it worth while to try to answer this objection.</p> + +<p>"There wasn't any kind of a thing, millions of years ago, that could +talk," she said calmly, "so, of course, they couldn't learn."</p> + +<p>"Then you can't talk, either," said Charlie, in triumph. And he +subsided and returned to the eating of crackers, of which, as +everybody knows, the saurians were extremely fond.</p> + +<p>Sally, meanwhile, was enjoying the prospect of treetops; an unbroken +prospect of treetops, except for a swamp which, in historic times, +became their own little valley.</p> + +<p>Sally had ceased, for the moment, her flitting lightly from bough to +bough, and there was no sign of her presence; and Charlie had come to +the end of his crackers and was browsing around in the grass, picking +up a crumb here and there.</p> + +<p>"Hello!" said a strange voice; a strange voice, but a very pleasant +one. "As I'm a living sinner, if here isn't a little pony!"</p> + +<p>Charlie looked up into the eyes of a very serious young man. The eyes +were twinkling over the wall and through the gap in the trees. Charlie +decided not to be frightened. But he shook his head. He wasn't a pony.</p> + +<p>"Well, well, of course not," the voice went on. "I was rather hasty, +but it looked like a pony, at the first glance. I guess it's a fierce +bull."</p> + +<p>Charlie shook his head again, less positively. Now that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span>it had been +suggested, he yearned to be a fierce bull. He wished that he had +thought of it before he shook his head.</p> + +<p>"A camel?" asked the young man. "Can it be a camel?"</p> + +<p>Once more Charlie shook his head, and he laughed.</p> + +<p>"It sounds like a hyena," remarked the stranger solemnly, "but it +can't be, for hyenas eat—" He put his hand to his forehead and seemed +to be puzzling it out. "Aha!" he cried at last. "I have it. A +giraffe!"</p> + +<p>"No!" Charlie shouted. "I'm <i>aren't</i> a giraffe. I'm a saw-horse."</p> + +<p>And he straddled his legs far apart and his arms far apart, and he +looked as much like a saw-horse as he could. That isn't saying much.</p> + +<p>At this last announcement of Charlie's, Sally exploded in a series of +chuckles so sudden and so violent that she almost fell out of the +tree.</p> + +<p>An answering titter came from the other side of the wall and a pair of +hands appeared, trying for a hold on the top stones; then the head of +a very pretty little girl followed, until her chin was on a level with +the top of the wall and she could look over it into Charlie's eyes.</p> + +<p>The strange young man had looked up into the tree. "Hello!" he +exclaimed. "If there isn't another! Is that a saw-horse, too?"</p> + +<p>Charlie had considered himself the person addressed. "Yes," he +replied, "it is. It's a flying one."</p> + +<p>"Mercy on us!" cried the young man. "A flying saw-horse! What a lot of +saw-horses you have about here; very interesting ones, too."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Charlie importantly, "we like to be 'em."</p> + +<p>"It must be most exciting to be so extraordinary a thing. Do you +suppose you could get that flying one to come down where we can see +it? Do you know, I never have seen a flying saw-horse in all the +nineteen years that I have lived."</p> + +<p>"She won't come down unless she wants to," Charlie grumbled.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span>Sally was recovering, in a measure, from her fit of chuckling. She +leaned far forward, below the screen of leaves.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I will," she called, in a low, clear voice. "Besides, I want +to. Charlie was mistaken about the saw-horse. He meant saurus. And I +was a flying lizard and this was a coal tree. From the top of the tree +you can't see anything but treetops and swamps. It's millions of years +ago, you know. And father's got the skeleton of this very lizard up in +his room, and he said that it used to fly right up in the topmost +branches of the coal trees and he told me about the sauruses that used +to be." She had dropped to the ground. "Oh, it's very interesting."</p> + +<p>"It must be," the young man smilingly replied; "and I should suppose +that it must be rather interesting for your father to have such a +pupil."</p> + +<p>"It isn't," Sally returned. "That is—father only told me those things +the other day."</p> + +<p>The young man laughed. "I guess you must be Professor Ladue's little +girl."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Sally, "we are. That is, I am, and this is my brother +Charlie."</p> + +<p>"The only and original saw-horse. You, I suppose, were a—we'll call +it a gynesaurus—"</p> + +<p>Sally clapped her hands and gave a little laugh of delight.</p> + +<p>"And this," he continued, laying his hand affectionately upon the +small head beside him, "is my small sister, Henrietta Sanderson, who +would be happy to be any kind of a beast that you tell her about. She +is ten years old and she dotes on being strange beasts."</p> + +<p>"Oh," cried Sally, "and I'm ten years old, too. Would Henrietta like +to come over the wall now? There's a gate farther along."</p> + +<p>"Henrietta despises gates. But does your invitation include her +brother? I'm Fox Sanderson and I was on my way to see your father."</p> + +<p>"Father isn't at home to-day," said Sally; "and, if you could come +over, too—"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span>At that, Fox Sanderson put his hands on the top of the wall and +vaulted lightly over. He turned to help Henrietta.</p> + +<p>"Now," he said, when she was safely on the right side, "here we all +are. What'll we do?"</p> + +<p>Henrietta had her brother's hand. "Fox tells lovely stories," she +remarked.</p> + +<p>"Does he?" asked Sally. "What about?"</p> + +<p>"About any kind of a thing that you ask him," answered Henrietta.</p> + +<p>"About sauruses?" Sally asked eagerly, turning to him.</p> + +<p>"All right," he agreed, smiling; "about sauruses. But I'm afraid it's +just a little too cold for you youngsters to sit still and listen to +stories. I'll have to keep you moving a bit."</p> + +<p>Sally told her mother about it that night. She thought that she never +had had such a good time in all her life. Fox Sanderson! Well, he told +the most wonderful stories that ever were.</p> + +<p>"And, mother," said Sally, all interest, "he had me be a gynesaurus +and Henrietta was a—— But what are you laughing at?"</p> + +<p>For Mrs. Ladue had burst out laughing. "My dear little girl!" she +cried softly. "My dear little girl! A gynesaurus! This Fox Sanderson +must be interesting, indeed."</p> + +<p>"Then I can play with Henrietta? And father wouldn't mind, do you +think? And your head can't be hurting, mother, because you just +laughed right out."</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER IV<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>Professor Ladue again sat on the floor of his room before the skeleton +of his lizard, absent-mindedly fingering a bone. Now and then he +looked out of the window at the great tree; at that particular spot in +the great tree upon which his daughter had been seated, one morning, +not so very long before. He may have had a half-formed wish that he +might again discover her there.</p> + +<p>But I do not know what half-formed wishes he had, concerning the tree, +his daughter, or anything else. At all events, Sally did not appear in +the tree. Had not he expressed disapproval of that very performance? +He could trust her. Perhaps, with a dim consciousness of that fact, +and, perhaps, with a certain disappointment that she was to be trusted +so implicitly,—she bore, in that respect, not the most remote +resemblance to her father,—the professor sighed. Then, still holding +the bone which bothered him, he went to his desk. There was a bone +missing—possibly more than one—and he would try to draw the missing +bone.</p> + +<p>He had scarcely got to work when there was a knock at his door. It was +a firm knock, but not loud, expressing a quiet determination. +Professor Ladue seemed to know that knock. He seemed, almost, as if he +had been waiting for it.</p> + +<p>"Come!" he cried, with an alacrity which would not have been expected +of him.</p> + +<p>He pushed back his drawing-board and Sally came in.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Miss Ladue!" he cried, with a certain spurious gayety which +concealed—something. I don't know what it concealed, and neither did +Sally, although she knew well enough that there was something behind +it. She feared that it was anxiety behind it, and she feared the cause +of that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span>anxiety. "And what," continued the Professor, "can we do for +Miss Ladue to-day? Will she have more about this lizard of mine?"</p> + +<p>Sally's eyes lighted up and she smiled. "I should like that very much, +father, thank you. But I can't, this morning, for I'm taking care of +Charlie."</p> + +<p>"And is Charlie concealed somewhere about you? Possibly you have him +in your pocket?"</p> + +<p>Sally giggled. "Charlie's tied to a tree."</p> + +<p>"Tied to a tree! Does he submit gracefully?"</p> + +<p>"He's an alligator; down by the wall, you know."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" exclaimed the professor. "I am illumined. Do you think it is +quite for the safety of the passers-by to keep an alligator so close +to the road?"</p> + +<p>Sally giggled again. "Yes," she returned, "if I'm not gone too long. I +came on an errand."</p> + +<p>Professor Ladue lost somewhat of his gayety. "State your errand, +Sally. I hope—"</p> + +<p>But the professor neglected to state what he had hoped. Sally stated +her errand with her customary directness.</p> + +<p>"Mother wants me to go to dancing-school. Can I?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose," returned Professor Ladue airily, "that you can go +wherever your legs will carry you. I see no indications of your +inability in that direction or in any other. Whether you <i>may</i> go is +another question."</p> + +<p>Sally did not smile. "Well, then, may I? Have you any objection? Will +you let me go?"</p> + +<p>"That is a matter which deserves more consideration. Why do you wish +to go?"</p> + +<p>"Only because mother wants me to," Sally answered. "I like to please +mother."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said the professor. "Ah! And what, if I may ask, are your own +inclinations in the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Well," replied Sally slowly. "I—it doesn't seem to me that it would +be very interesting to go there just because a lot of other children +go. I could have a lot better time playing by myself. That is, I—of +course, there's Henrietta, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span>but Margaret Savage is stupid. But," she +added hastily, "I do want to go because mother wants me to."</p> + +<p>"Oh," the professor remarked, with a slight smile of amusement; "so +Margaret Savage is stupid. But why didn't your mother ask me herself?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps she was afraid to," Sally said quietly. "I don't know what +the reason was."</p> + +<p>"But you think it was that she was afraid to." The smile on his face +changed imperceptibly. The change made it a sneer. It is astonishing +to see how much a slight change can accomplish. "Perhaps you know why +she was afraid?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," Sally acknowledged, "perhaps I do."</p> + +<p>"Well, would you be good enough to give me the benefit of your ideas +on that subject?"</p> + +<p>Sally flushed a little, but she did not falter in the directness of +her gaze any more than in her speech. "You generally make her cry when +she asks you for anything."</p> + +<p>The professor flushed in his turn. "Indeed!" said he. "A most +observing child! A very observing child, indeed. And so your mother +sent you in her place."</p> + +<p>"She didn't," said Sally impassively, although with a rising color; +"she doesn't know anything about my coming."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" remarked the professor reflectively. "So you came on your own +hook—off your own bat."</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>There was a long silence while Professor Ladue drummed on the table +with his fingers. Sally waited.</p> + +<p>At last he turned. "Sally," he said, with a slight return of that +gayety he had shown on her entrance, "the high courage of Miss Sally +Ladue shall receive the reward which it deserves. It is not fitting +that it should not. Bearding the lion in his den is nothing to it. I +am curious to know, Sally, whether you—" But there the professor +stopped. He had been about to ask his daughter, aged ten, whether she +was not afraid. He knew that she was not afraid. He knew that, if +there was some fear, some hesitation, some doubt as to the exact +outcome of the interview, it was not on Sally's part.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span>Sally was waiting for him to finish.</p> + +<p>"Well, Sally," he continued, waving his hand airily, "make your +arrangements. Miss Ladue is to go to dancing-school and dance her feet +off if she wants to. Never mind the price." He waved his hand again. +"Never mind the price. What are a few paltry dollars that they should +interfere with pleasure? What is money to dancing?"</p> + +<p>Sally was very solemn. "I think the price is ten dollars," she said.</p> + +<p>Professor Ladue snapped his fingers in the air. "It doesn't matter. +Poof! Ten dollars or ten hundred! Let us dance!"</p> + +<p>Sally's eyes filled, but she choked the tears back.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, father," she said gently. "Mother will be glad."</p> + +<p>He rose and bowed, his hand on his heart. "That is important, of +course."</p> + +<p>"I think it is the only important thing about it," Sally returned +promptly.</p> + +<p>The professor bowed again, without reply, and Sally turned to go.</p> + +<p>It may have been that the professor's heart smote him. It may have +been that he had been aware of Sally's unshed tears. It may have been +that he regretted that he should have been the cause—but I may be +doing him an injustice. Very likely he was above such things as the +tears of his wife and his daughter. It is quite possible that he was +as proud of his ability to draw tears as of his ability to draw, +correctly, a bone that he never saw. Whatever the reason, he spoke +again as Sally was opening the door.</p> + +<p>"Will Miss Ladue," he asked, with an elaborate politeness, "honor my +poor study with her presence when she has more leisure? When she has +not Charlie on her mind? We can, if she pleases, go farther into the +matter of lizards or of coal trees."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, father," Sally replied.</p> + +<p>Professor Ladue was conscious of a regret that she spoke <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span>without +enthusiasm. But it was too much to expect—so soon.</p> + +<p>"I shall be pleased," he said.</p> + +<p>An idea, which seemed just to have occurred to Sally, made her face +brighten. The professor noted it.</p> + +<p>"And can—may I bring Henrietta?"</p> + +<p>"Bring Henrietta!" cried the professor. "That is food for thought. Who +is this Henrietta? It seems to me that you mentioned her once before."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Sally eagerly. "I did. She is Henrietta Sanderson and Fox +Sanderson is her brother. He came to see you the other day. You +weren't at home."</p> + +<p>"Fox Sanderson!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Sally, again; "and when I told him that you weren't at +home, he came over the wall. He brought Henrietta. He knows a lot +about sauruses."</p> + +<p>"He knows a lot about sauruses, does he?" the professor repeated +thoughtfully. "It seems to me that I have some recollection of Fox +Sanderson."</p> + +<p>He turned and rummaged in a drawer of his desk. He seemed unable to +find what he was looking for, and he extracted from the depths of the +drawer many empty cigarette boxes, which he cast into the grate, and a +handful of papers, which he dumped on the top of the desk, +impatiently. He sorted these over, in the same impatient manner, and +finally he found it. It was a letter and was near the bottom of the +pile. He opened it and read it.</p> + +<p>"H-mph!" he said, reading, "Thanks me for my kind permission, does he? +Now, Miss Ladue, can you give me any light upon that? What permission +does he refer to? Permission to do what?"</p> + +<p>Sally shook her head. But her father was not looking.</p> + +<p>"Oh," he said; "h-m. I must have said that I'd see him." He read on. +"I must even have said that he could study with me; that I'd help him. +Very thoughtless of me, very thoughtless, indeed! It must have been +after—well. And he will be here in the course of three weeks." The +professor <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span>turned the leaf. "This was written a month ago. So he's +here, is he, Sally?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," Sally answered, "he's here."</p> + +<p>The professor stood, for a few moments, looking at Sally, the slight +smile on his lips expressive of mingled disgust and amusement.</p> + +<p>"Well," he observed, at last, "it appears to be one on me. I must have +said it. I have a vague recollection of something of the kind, but the +recollection is very vague. Do you like him, Sally?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes." Sally seemed to feel that that was too sweeping. "That is," +she added, "I—I like him."</p> + +<p>Professor Ladue laughed lightly. Sally laughed, too, but in an +embarrassed fashion.</p> + +<p>"That is satisfactory. You couldn't qualify it, Sally, could you? +Tried hard, didn't you?"</p> + +<p>Sally flushed.</p> + +<p>"Well," continued the professor, "if you chance to see this Fox +Sanderson, or any relative of his, will you convey to him my deep +sense of pleasure at his presence? I shall be obliged to Miss Ladue if +she will do that."</p> + +<p>"I will," said Sally gravely.</p> + +<p>Professor Ladue bowed. So far as he was concerned, the interview was +closed. So far as Sally was concerned, it was not.</p> + +<p>"Well?" asked Sally. "May I bring Henrietta? You haven't answered that +question, father."</p> + +<p>"Dear me! What an incomprehensible omission! I must be getting old and +forgetful. Old and forgetful, Sally. It is a state that we all attain +if we do not die first."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Sally, "I suppose so. May I bring Henrietta, father?"</p> + +<p>Professor Ladue laughed shortly. "What a persistent child you are, +Sally!"</p> + +<p>"I have to be," she replied, trying not to show her disappointment. "I +suppose you mean that you don't want me to bring Henrietta. Well, I +won't. Perhaps I may come in some day and hear about the lizard."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span>He did what he had not expected to do. "Oh, bring her, by all means," +he cried, with an assumed cheerfulness which would not have deceived +you or me. It did not deceive Sally. "Bring her." He waved his hand +inclusively. "Bring Henrietta and Margaret Savage and any others you +can think of. Bring them all. I shall be pleased—honored." And again +he bowed.</p> + +<p>Sally was just opening the door. "Margaret Savage would not be +interested," she said in a low voice, without turning her head, "and +there aren't—"</p> + +<p>"Sally," the professor interrupted in cold exasperation, "will you be +good enough to project in my direction, what voice you think it best +to use, when you speak to me? Will you be so kind? I do not believe +that I am growing deaf, but I don't hear you."</p> + +<p>Sally turned toward him. "Yes, father, I beg your pardon. I said that +Margaret Savage wouldn't be interested," she repeated quietly and +clearly, "and that there aren't any others."</p> + +<p>He made an inarticulate noise in his throat. Sally was on the point of +shutting the door.</p> + +<p>"Sally!" he called.</p> + +<p>The door opened again just far enough to show proper respect. "Yes, +father?"</p> + +<p>"Would your friend Henrietta really be interested in—in what she +would probably hear?"</p> + +<p>The door opened wider. "Oh, yes, she would. I'm sure she would." There +was a note of eagerness in Sally's voice.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, you may bring her. I shall be glad to have you both when +you find leisure. But no Margaret Savages, Sally."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, father. Thank you very much."</p> + +<p>After which Sally shut the door and the professor heard her running +downstairs. He seemed pleased to hear the noise, which really was not +great, and seated himself at his desk again and took up his drawing.</p> + +<p>And Sally, when she had got downstairs and out of doors, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span>found her +exhilaration oozing away rapidly and a depression of spirit taking its +place. The interview, on the whole, had been well calculated—it may +have been carefully calculated—to take the starch out of a woman +grown. Professor Ladue had had much experience at taking the starch +out of others. And Sally was not a woman grown, but a child of ten. +Her powers of resistance had been equal to the task imposed, +fortunately, but she found that the exercise of those powers had left +her weak and shaky, and she was sobbing as she ran. If the professor +had seen her then,—if he had known just what her feelings were as she +sobbed,—would he have been proud of his ability to draw tears? I +wonder.</p> + +<p>"Anyway," Sally sobbed, "I know how he makes mother feel. I know. Oh, +mother, mother! But I'll never give in. I won't!"</p> + +<p>She stopped her convulsive sobbing by the simple process of shutting +her teeth over her lower lip, and she dashed away the tears from her +eyes as she ran toward the captive alligator, whose continuous roar +was growing in her ears. The roar was one of rage.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear! I left him too long."</p> + +<p>And Sally ran up to find Charlie fumbling at the knot of the rope by +which he was tied. He cried out at her instantly.</p> + +<p>"Sally! Don't <i>want</i> to be tied any more. <i>Aren't</i> an alligator. I'm a +little boy. Don't want to be tied like an old cow."</p> + +<p>Sally hastily untied him, comforting him, meanwhile, as well as she +could. But Charlie, noticing something unusual in her voice, looked up +into her face and saw traces of tears. He immediately burst into tears +himself.</p> + +<p>"Charlie!" cried Sally, fiercely; "Charlie! Laugh, now! Laugh, I tell +you." She glanced over the wall. "Here come Fox Sanderson and +Henrietta. Laugh!"</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER V<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>Sally always remembered that winter, a winter of hard work and growing +anxiety for her, enlivened by brief and occasional joys. She got to +know Fox and Henrietta very well, which was a continual joy and +enlivenment. Sally did not count dancing-school among the +enlivenments. And the infrequent lessons with Fox and Henrietta and +her father were enlivenments, too, usually; not always. After the +times when they were not, Sally wanted to cry, but she didn't, which +made it all the harder.</p> + +<p>Her mother seemed steadily progressing toward permanent invalidism, +while her father was doing much worse than that. And she took more and +more of the burden of both upon her own small shoulders. Poor child! +She should have known no real anxiety; none more real than the common +anxieties of childhood. But perhaps they are real enough. Sally was +not eleven yet.</p> + +<p>It is hard to say whether her mother or her father caused Sally the +more anxiety. Her mother's progress was so gradual that the change +from day to day—or from week to week, for that matter—was not +noticeable; while her father's was spasmodic. Sally did not see him +during a spasm, so that she did not know how noticeable the change was +from day to day or from hour to hour. We do not speak of weeks in such +cases. But it was just after a spasm that he was apt to make his +appearance again at home in a condition of greater or less +dilapidation, with nerves on edge and his temper in such a state that +Mrs. Ladue had grown accustomed, in those circumstances, to the use of +great care when she was forced to address him. Lately, she had avoided +him entirely at such times. Sally, on the contrary, made no effort to +avoid him and did not use great care when she <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span>addressed him, although +she was always respectful. This course was good for the shreds of the +professor's soul and perhaps no harder for Sally. But that was not the +reason why she did it. She could not have done differently.</p> + +<p>There was the time in the fall, but that was over. And there was the +time at Christmas which Sally nipped in the bud. Following the +Christmas fiasco—a fiasco only from the point of view of the +professor—was the Era of Good Behavior. That is begun with capitals +because Sally was very happy about her father during that era, +although her mother's health worried her more and more. Then there was +the time late in the winter, after her father had broken down under +the strain of Good Behavior for two months; and, again, twice in +March. Professor Ladue must have been breaking rapidly during that +spring, for there came that awful time when it seemed, even to Sally, +as if the bottom were dropping out of everything and as if she had +rather die than not. Dying seems easier to all of us when we are +rather young, although the idea does not generally come to us when we +are ten years old. But it must be remembered that Sally was getting +rather more than her fair share of hard knocks. Later in life dying +does not seem so desirable. It is a clear shirking of responsibility. +Not that Sally ought to have had responsibility.</p> + +<p>The time at Christmas happened on the last day of term time; and, +because that day was only half a day for the professor and because +Christmas was but two days off, Sally had persuaded her mother to take +her into town. "Town" was half an hour's ride in the train; and, once +there, Sally intended to persuade her mother further and to beard her +father in his laboratory and to take him for an afternoon's Christmas +shopping; very modest shopping. Whether Mrs. Ladue suspected the +designs of Sally and was sure of their failure, I do not know. Sally +had not told her mother of her complete plans. She was by no means +certain of their success herself. In fact, she felt very shaky about +it, but it was to be tried. Whatever her reason, Mrs. Ladue consented +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span>with great and very evident reluctance, and it may have been her dread +of the occasion that gave her the headache which followed. So Sally +had to choose between two evils. And, the evil to her father seeming +the greater if she stayed at home with her mother, she elected to go.</p> + +<p>She disposed of Charlie and knocked softly on her mother's door. There +was a faint reply and Sally went in. The shades were pulled down and +the room was rather dark. Sally went to her mother and bent over her +and put her arms half around her. She did it very gently,—oh, so +gently,—for fear of making the headache worse.</p> + +<p>"Is your head better, mother, dear?" she asked softly.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ladue smiled wanly. "Having my dear little girl here makes it +better," she answered.</p> + +<p>"Does it, mother? Does it really?" The thought made Sally very happy. +But then it suddenly came over her that, if she carried out her plans, +she could not stay. She was torn with conflicting emotions, but not +with doubts. She had considered enough and she knew what she intended +to do. She did not hesitate.</p> + +<p>"I'm very sorry, mother, dear, that I can't stay now. I'll come in +when I get back, though, and I'll stay then, if it isn't too late and +if you want me then. I truly will. I love to."</p> + +<p>"Is it Charlie, Sally? You have too much of the care of Charlie. If I +weren't so good for nothing!"</p> + +<p>"I've left Charlie with Katie, and he's happy. It's father. I think +I'd better go in and meet him. Don't you think I'd better?"</p> + +<p>The tears came to Mrs. Ladue's eyes. "Bless you, dear child! But how +can you, dear, all alone? No, Sally. If you must go, I'll get up and +go with you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother, you mustn't, you mustn't. I can get Fox to go with me. I +know he will. I promise not to go unless I can get Fox—or some +one—to go."</p> + +<p>"Some grown person, Sally?" Mrs. Ladue asked anxiously.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span>"Yes," answered Sally, almost smiling, "some grown person. That is," +she added, "if you call Fox Sanderson a grown person."</p> + +<p>"Fox Sanderson is a dear good boy," replied Mrs. Ladue. "I wish you +had a brother like him, Sally,—just like him."</p> + +<p>"I wish I did," said Sally, "but I haven't. The next best thing is to +have him just Fox Sanderson. Will you be satisfied with him, mother, +dear,—if I can get him to go?"</p> + +<p>Again Mrs. Ladue smiled. "Quite satisfied, dear. I can trust you, +Sally, and you don't know what a relief that is."</p> + +<p>"No," said Sally, "I s'pose I don't." Nevertheless she may have had +some idea.</p> + +<p>That thought probably occurred to her mother, for she laughed a little +tremulously. "Kiss me, darling, and go along."</p> + +<p>So Sally kissed her mother, tenderly and again and again, and turned +away. But her mother called her back.</p> + +<p>"Sally, there is a ticket in my bureau, somewhere. And, if you can +find my purse, you had better take that, too. I think there is nearly +two dollars in it. It is a pretty small sum for Christmas shopping, +but I shall be glad if you spend it all."</p> + +<p>Sally turned to kiss her mother again. "I shan't spend it all," she +said.</p> + +<p>She rummaged until she found the ticket and the purse; and, with a +last good-bye to her mother, she was gone. Mrs. Ladue sighed. "The +darling!" she said, under her breath.</p> + +<p>Sally met Fox and Henrietta just outside her own gate. "Oh," she +cried, "it's lucky, for you're exactly the persons I wanted to see."</p> + +<p>Henrietta looked expectant.</p> + +<p>"Well, Sally," Fox said, smiling, "what's up now?"</p> + +<p>"I'm going to town," Sally answered, less calmly than usual. She laid +her hand on his arm as she spoke. "That is, I'm going if I can find +somebody to go with me."</p> + +<p>Fox laughed. "Is that what you call a hint, Sally? Will we do?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span>"It isn't a hint," said Sally, flushing indignantly. "That is,—it +wasn't meant for one. I was going to ask you if you had just as lief +go as not. I've got a ticket and there are—let's see"—she took out +her ticket and counted—"there are seven trips on it. That's enough. +Would you just as lief?"</p> + +<p>"I'd rather," replied Fox promptly. "Come on, Henrietta. We're going +to town." He looked at his watch. "Train goes in fourteen minutes, and +that's the train we take. Step lively, now."</p> + +<p>Henrietta giggled and Sally smiled; and they stepped lively and got to +the station with two minutes to spare. Fox occupied that two minutes +with a rattle of airy nothings which kept Sally busy and her mind off +her errand; which may have been Fox's object or it may not. For Sally +had not told her errand yet, and how could Fox Sanderson have known +it? When they got into the car, Sally was a little disappointed +because she had not been able to tell him. She had meant +to—distinctly meant to during that two minutes.</p> + +<p>She had no chance to tell him in the train. The cars made such a noise +that she would have had to shout it in his ear and, besides, he talked +steadily.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what," he said, at the end of a stream of talk of which +Sally had not heard half. "Let's get your father, Sally, and take him +with us while you do your errands, whatever they are. He'll be through +in the laboratory, and we'll just about catch him."</p> + +<p>"All right," Sally murmured; and she sank back in her seat +contentedly.</p> + +<p>She had been sitting bolt upright. She felt that it was all right now, +and she would not need to tell Fox or anybody. She felt very grateful +to him, somehow. She felt still more grateful to him when he let the +conductor take all their fares from her ticket without a protest. Fox +was looking out of the window.</p> + +<p>"It looks as if we might have some snow," he remarked. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span>"Or it may be +rain. I hope it will wait until we get home."</p> + +<p>When they got to the laboratory, they found one of the cleaners just +unlocking the door. She didn't know whether the professor had gone or +not. He always kept the door locked after hours; but would they go in? +They would and did, but could not find Professor Ladue. Fox found, on +his desk, a beaker with a few drops of a liquid in it. He took this up +and smelt of it. The beaker still held a trace of warmth.</p> + +<p>"He has just this minute gone," he said. "If we hurry I think we can +catch him. I know the way he has probably gone."</p> + +<p>"How do you know he has just gone?" asked Sally, looking at him +soberly and with her customary directness. "How can you tell?"</p> + +<p>"Sherlock Holmes," he answered. "You didn't know that I was a +detective, did you, Sally?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Sally. "Are you?"</p> + +<p>"Seem to be," Fox returned. "Come on, or we'll lose him."</p> + +<p>So they hurried, twisting and winding through streets that Sally did +not know. They seemed to be highly respectable streets. Sally wondered +where they were going. She wanted to ask Fox, but, evidently, he +didn't want to take the time to talk. Henrietta's eyes were brighter +than usual and she looked from Fox to Sally with a curiosity which she +could not conceal; but Sally, at least, did not notice, and Henrietta +said nothing.</p> + +<p>"There he is," said Fox, at last.</p> + +<p>They had just turned the corner of a street lined with what appeared +to Sally to be rather imposing houses. It was a highly respectable +street, like the others they had come through, and it was very quiet +and dignified. Indeed, there was no one in sight except Professor +Ladue, who was sauntering along with the manner of the care-free. His +coat was unbuttoned and blowing slightly, although there was that +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span>chill in the air that always precedes snow and the wind was rising. +Their steps echoed in the quiet street, and, instinctively, they +walked more softly. Strangely enough, they all seemed to have the same +feeling; a feeling that the professor might suddenly vanish if he +heard them and looked around.</p> + +<p>"Now, Sally," Fox continued, speaking somewhat hurriedly, "you run and +catch him before he turns that next corner. The street around that +corner is only a court with a dozen houses on it. If you don't catch +him before he goes into the house in the middle of that block, give it +up. Don't try to go in after him, but come back. Henrietta and I will +be waiting for you. If you get him, we won't wait. But don't say +anything about our being here unless he asks you. He might not like to +know that I had followed him."</p> + +<p>"But," protested Sally, bewildered, "aren't you going with us? I +thought you were going shopping with us."</p> + +<p>"If we had caught him before he had left the college. Now, it might be +embarrassing—to both your father and to me."</p> + +<p>"But your tickets!" wailed Sally in a distressed whisper. They had +been speaking like conspirators.</p> + +<p>Fox laughed softly. "I have a few cents about me. You can make that +right some other time. Now, run!"</p> + +<p>So Sally ran. She ran well and quietly and came up with her father +just after he had turned that last corner. The professor must have +been startled at the unexpectedness of the touch upon his arm, for he +turned savagely, prepared, apparently, to strike.</p> + +<p>"Father!" cried Sally; but she did not shrink back. "Father! It's only +me!"</p> + +<p>The look in Professor Ladue's eyes changed. Some fear may have come +into it; a fear that always seemed to be latent where Sally was +concerned. His look was not pleasant to see directed toward his own +little daughter. The savage expression was still there, and a frown, +denoting deep displeasure.</p> + +<p>"Sally!" he exclaimed angrily. Then he was silent for a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span>time; a time, +it is to be presumed, long enough for him to collect his scattered +faculties and to be able to speak as calmly as a professor should +speak to his daughter, aged ten.</p> + +<p>"Sally," he said at last, coldly, "may I ask how you came here?"</p> + +<p>"Why," Sally replied, speaking hastily, "I was coming in town, this +afternoon,—I planned it, long ago, with mother,—and—"</p> + +<p>"Is your mother with you?" the professor interrupted.</p> + +<p>To a careful observer he might have seemed more startled than ever; +but perhaps Sally was not a careful observer. At all events, she gave +no sign.</p> + +<p>"Mother had a headache and couldn't come," said Sally quietly. She +must have been afraid that her father would ask other questions. It +was quite natural that he should want to know who did come with her. +So she went on rapidly. "But I thought I'd come just the same, so I +did, and I went to your laboratory, but you'd just gone and I followed +on after and I caught you just as you turned this corner, and now I +would like to have you go down to the shops with me. I want to buy +something for mother and Charlie. Will you go with me, father?"</p> + +<p>The professor did not ask any of the questions that Sally feared. +Possibly he had as much fear of the answers as Sally had of the +questions. So he asked none of the questions that one would think a +father would ask of his little daughter in such circumstances. As +Sally neared the end of her rapid speech, his eyes had narrowed.</p> + +<p>"So," he said slowly, "I gather from what you have left unsaid that +your mother sent you after me."</p> + +<p>There was the faintest suspicion of a sneer in his voice, but he tried +to speak lightly. As had happened many times before, he did not +succeed.</p> + +<p>"She didn't," answered Sally, trying to be calm. Her eyes burned. "She +didn't want me to come. I came on my own hook."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span>"It might have been wiser, Sally," the professor observed judicially, +"to do what your mother wished."</p> + +<p>Sally made no reply. She would have liked to ask him if he did—if he +ever did what her mother wished.</p> + +<p>Sally saying nothing and seeming somewhat abashed, the professor found +himself calmer. "So that course did not commend itself to your +judgment? Didn't think it best to mind your mother. And you went to +the laboratory and—who let you in?" he asked suddenly.</p> + +<p>"One of the cleaners."</p> + +<p>"Oh, one of the cleaners. A very frowzy lady in a faded black skirt +and no waist worth mentioning, I presume." The professor seemed +relieved. "And you went in, and didn't find me. Very natural. I was +not there. And having made up your mind, from internal evidence, I +presume, which way I had gone,—but who told you?—oh, never mind. +It's quite immaterial. A very successful trail, Sally; or shall I say +shadow? You must have the makings of a clever detective in you. I +shouldn't have suspected it. Never in the world."</p> + +<p>The professor was quite calm by this time; rather pleased with +himself, especially as he had chanced to remark the tears standing in +his little daughter's eyes.</p> + +<p>"And I never suspected it!" he repeated. Then he laughed; but it was a +mirthless laugh. If he had known how empty it would sound, the +professor would never have done it.</p> + +<p>At his laugh, two of the aforesaid tears splashed on the sidewalk, in +spite of Sally's efforts to prevent. The tears may not have been +wholly on her own account. She may have felt some pity for her +father's pitiful pretense.</p> + +<p>She bit her lip. "Will you go with me now, father?" she asked, as soon +as she could trust herself to speak at all.</p> + +<p>It was always somewhat difficult to account for the professor's +actions and to assign the motive which really guided. The professor, +himself, was probably unaware, at the time, of having any motive. So +why seek one? It need not concern us.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span>"Go with you, Sally? Why, yes, indeed. Certainly. Why not?" he agreed +with an alacrity which was almost unseemly; as if he challenged +anybody to say that that was not just what he had meant to do, all +along. "I have some presents to buy—for your mother and Charlie. And +for somebody else, too," he murmured, in a tone that was, no doubt, +meant for Sally to hear. She heard it.</p> + +<p>Sally smiled up at him and took his hand, which she seldom did. It is +true that she seldom had the chance. Then she glanced quickly around, +to see whether Fox and Henrietta were in sight. The street was +deserted.</p> + +<p>Professor Ladue buttoned his coat; but the wind was rising still, and +the chill increasing, and his coat was rather light for the season. +What more natural than that he should wish it buttoned? But Sally +would have unbuttoned her coat gladly. She would not have felt the +chill; and she almost skipped beside him, as they walked rapidly down +toward streets which were not deserted, but crowded with people. As +they went, he talked more and more light nonsense, and Sally was +happy; which was a state much to be desired, but unusual enough to be +worthy of remark.</p> + +<p>They were very late in getting home. With the crowds and the snow +which had begun to fall, there was no knowing what the trains would be +up to. Trains have an unpleasant habit of being late whenever there is +any very special reason for wishing to get in promptly. But I suppose +there is always somebody on any train who has a very special reason +for wishing to get in promptly. There was on this train. Sally had a +bad case of the fidgets, thinking of her mother, who must be waiting +and waiting and wondering why her little daughter didn't come. It +would be bad for her head. The professor, too,—but I don't know about +the professor; he may have been in no hurry.</p> + +<p>When at last they did get home, after a long wade through snow up to +her shoetops, Sally ran up to her mother's room, shedding her wet and +snowy things as she ran. She knocked softly and, at the first sound of +her mother's voice, she went <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span>in and shut the door gently behind her. +The room was nearly pitch dark, but she could see the bed, dimly, and +she ran to it and ran into her mother's arms.</p> + +<p>"Bless you, Sally, darling!" Mrs. Ladue cried softly. "You don't know +how glad I am to have you back."</p> + +<p>"I got him, mother, dear," Sally whispered. "I got him. But it was +only by the skin of my teeth."</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER VI<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>If Sally did get the professor only by the skin of her teeth, she had +no need to keep that precarious hold upon him. Providence or the +elements, or whatever you wish to call it, took that matter in hand +and attended to it with the thoroughness usual in cases in which it +undertakes to attend to anything. For Sally awoke the next morning to +find her world bound fast in ice. Every twig bore its load except such +as had refused to bear it. The birches, in scattered clumps, bowed +down to the ground, and the hard crust of the snow was littered with +broken branches.</p> + +<p>Sally stood at her window, looking out. It was beautiful, there was no +denying it; but, as she looked at the birches, every one of them bent +to the ground, with the freshly fallen snow covering it, and its top +held fast under the crust, her lip curled a little. She didn't think +much of a tree which couldn't hold itself up. It seemed to her too +much like saving yourself at the price of your self-respect. Better be +a self-respecting, upstanding tree, even if you did lose an arm or +two; better to go down altogether, if need be, but fighting. Yes, in +spite of their beauty, she despised the birches. And, with some such +thoughts as these, she turned from the window and dressed quickly.</p> + +<p>Nothing came that morning. A horse could hardly get through that crust +with safety to his legs. In consequence, the professor had no cream. +Sally fully expected an outburst of rage, which, with the professor, +took the form of acidly sarcastic remarks. His remarks, while +preserving outward forms of politeness, usually resulted in reducing +Mrs. Ladue to tears as soon as she had gained the seclusion of her own +room. It was not that Professor Ladue held his wife accountable for +such things as heavy snowstorms or <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span>sleet-storms—upon full +consideration. Such things are usually denominated "acts of God," and, +in contracts, the contractors are expressly relieved from +responsibility for failure of performance in consequence. The +professor himself, upon full consideration, would have held such +exemption quite proper. But his wife was not a contractor and was +entitled to no such exemptions. A professor was entitled to cream for +his breakfast.</p> + +<p>Sally, coming down with Charlie, found her father eating his breakfast +in solitude and in apparent content, and without cream; certainly +without cream. Mrs. Ladue had not appeared. Perhaps she was tired of +being reduced to tears on such occasions and had more confidence in +Sally than she had in herself. Certainly the professor was less apt to +indulge his taste for acid sarcasm with Sally. There is little +satisfaction to be got out of it when the only effect upon the hearer +is a barely perceptible rise in color and a tightening of the lips. At +all events, he did not do what was expected of him.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning, Sally," he said pleasantly.</p> + +<p>Sally was much surprised. She was so much surprised that the blood +surged into her cheeks in a flood. That was a greater effect than +could have been produced by acid sarcasm in any amount. The professor +might have noted that. Perhaps he did.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning, father," Sally replied, smiling. She hesitated for a +fraction of a second, then, yielding to her impulse, she put her arm +around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. "Good-morning." And she +went quickly to her seat, her cheeks blazing.</p> + +<p>The professor was so astonished at this act of Sally's,—an act as +difficult to foresee and to provide against as an act of God,—he was +so thoroughly astonished, I say, that he spilled some of the coffee +which had no cream in it. But let us hope he would not have wanted to +provide against that act of God.</p> + +<p>"Well, Sally," he said, laughing lightly, "it's surprising <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span>to think +what the weather can do when it tries. Only yesterday afternoon, bare +ground and scarcely a hint of what was coming. Now, here we are, tied +up."</p> + +<p>"Tied up?" Sally asked.</p> + +<p>"Tied up," he repeated. "There's little doubt about it. No milkman." +He waved his hand. "And there'll be no grocer and no anybody else. +You'll see. No butcher—meat man—we don't have butchers, now. Just +think of that, Sally. No meat until spring. How will you like that? We +should have been keeping chickens and pigs and we ought to have cows +and a calf or two. Then I would take my axe in my hand and my knife +and I would sally out to the barn. You would hear sounds of murder and +we should have fresh meat. Fresh meat!" The professor looked +ferocious.</p> + +<p>"And no trains," he added meditatively. "I haven't heard a train this +morning and I don't expect to."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Sally, "you don't have to take them. What do you care?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, true," he replied in the same meditative tone. "Very just, Sally. +I don't have to take them, and what do I care? What do I? Answer, +nothing."</p> + +<p>The professor waved his hand again and drank his coffee. An +irrepressible chuckle came from Sally. She said nothing, but waited +for her father to resume. He always did resume when he was in this +mood, which was not often.</p> + +<p>He put down his empty cup. "And what do we do? We finish our +breakfast, which may be a matter of some time, judging from quantity +alone." He pointed to Sally's plate and to Charlie's. Charlie had been +eating industriously ever since he sat down. "We finish our breakfast +and we loaf awhile, and then we bundle up and try to shovel out; you, +Sally, and I and Charlie."</p> + +<p>Here he pointed a finger at Charlie, who emitted a roar of delight.</p> + +<p>"An' can I shovel with my little snow-shovel? Can I?"</p> + +<p>The professor poured for himself another cup of coffee. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span>"You are to +have the felicity of shoveling with your little snow-shovel, Charlie. +See that you do good work with it. And Sally shall take the +<i>middle-sized</i> snow-shovel, and I will take the <span class="fakesc">GREAT BIG</span> +snow-shovel."</p> + +<p>Another roar from Charlie, who began to eat faster.</p> + +<p>"This coffee, Sally," continued the professor, "would be better if the +storm had been less severe. But it does very well. It is most +excellent coffee. It is probably better for my health than it would be +with cream. For, do you know, Sally, I am well convinced that cream +with coffee forms quite another substance, which is deleterious to +health and destructive of the ability to sleep, although affecting in +no way the desire to do so. And that, Sally, is most unpleasant."</p> + +<p>Professor Ladue was speaking in his lecture-room voice and very +seriously. Sally was smiling. As he finished, the smile grew into a +chuckle and she choked. Charlie, having taken an extraordinarily large +mouthful, and being diverted from the ensuing process by the choking +of Sally, also choked.</p> + +<p>"Sally," said the professor calmly, "your little brother needs your +attention. He needs it rather badly, it seems to me." For Charlie had +his mouth open and was getting red in the face.</p> + +<p>Sally got up hastily and pounded Charlie on the back. That measure +being ineffective, she shook him violently. He gasped twice.</p> + +<p>"Want to race," he exploded.</p> + +<p>The professor looked surprised. "An eating race, Charlie?" he asked. +"Why, my dear boy, I shouldn't stand a ghost of a chance with you. We +might make it a handicap, but, even then—"</p> + +<p>"Shoveling race," Charlie explained. "You have the great big +snow-shovel an' Sally have the middle-sized shovel an' I have the +little snow-shovel, an' we race to see who can get the most done."</p> + +<p>"Brilliant idea, Charlie, positively glittering," his father +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span>returned. "But it would hardly be fair to start us all from scratch, I +am afraid. Better make it a handicap, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," Charlie replied, not knowing in the least what a handicap was.</p> + +<p>Neither did Sally. "What is a handicap, father?" she asked.</p> + +<p>Her father explained.</p> + +<p>"Oh," she said, approving, "then it makes the race fair, doesn't it? +Every one has as much chance of winning as everybody else. I think +that is nice."</p> + +<p>"It is an attempt in that direction, Sally. But there are many things +about it, about—er—racing—of any kind, that it is just as well you +shouldn't know. So I will not try to explain. If every one concerned +acts fairly, Sally, and with good judgment, it is nice, as you say."</p> + +<p>Sally was not going to be put off. "Why doesn't everybody act fairly?"</p> + +<p>The professor waved his hand and shrugged his shoulders; but before he +could make any other reply, the door opened softly. He welcomed the +opening of the door. It put a stop to Sally's questioning, which was +apt to become embarrassing, in certain cases.</p> + +<p>A glance at Sally's face would have told Professor Ladue who had +opened the door, but it is to be supposed that he knew. Sally jumped +up and ran; and the professor rose—rose with some alacrity—and +turned.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, Sarah," he said pleasantly. "We are all glad to see +you. I hope you are feeling better."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ladue smiled happily. One would have thought that Professor Ladue +would have tried that manner oftener. It produced much effect with +little effort; but I spoke hastily. I do not know how much effort it +was.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Charlie—Charlie, dear," she answered, hesitating a +little; "I do feel very much better. I heard all the happy noise down +here and I had to come down."</p> + +<p>"Don't apologize, my dear," he protested; "don't apologize, or we +shall have to believe that you didn't mean to come because you didn't +want to."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span>Mrs. Ladue took her seat, but made no reply. There was a faint color +in her cheeks and she looked almost shyly at her husband. Sally was +gazing at her mother, but not in wonder. There was no fathoming Sally. +She reached out and pressed her mother's hand.</p> + +<p>"You look so very pretty, mother," she whispered.</p> + +<p>The color in Mrs. Ladue's cheeks became deeper. "Hush, dear," she +whispered in return. "It must be because I am happy."</p> + +<p>"I wish we could always be happy," Sally whispered again; "all of us."</p> + +<p>There was no way of knowing whether her father had heard these +whispers. He might have heard, but he gave no sign, looking into his +empty cup and playing with the spoon.</p> + +<p>"Sally," he said suddenly, "what do you suppose my little lizard would +have done if he had waked up some morning and found his swamp covered +with this?" The professor waved his hand toward the window.</p> + +<p>Sally was much interested. "Would he have flown away?"</p> + +<p>"Wrong," cried the professor, getting up and walking to the window. +"Guess again."</p> + +<p>Sally gave the question some thought. "I don't know," she said at +last.</p> + +<p>"Wrong again. Next! Charlie!"</p> + +<p>Charlie had his mouth full. He looked up in surprise. "What?" he +spluttered.</p> + +<p>"What would my little lizard have done this morning?"</p> + +<p>Charlie was no Fletcherite. He swallowed his mouthful very nearly +whole. Then he gasped a little which is not to be wondered at.</p> + +<p>"Little lizard would take his little snow-shovel and shovel a great +big place—" he began. Then an idea seemed to strike him and he +stopped with his mouth open. "No," he cried; "little lizard would be +dead."</p> + +<p>"Very possibly, Charlie. That's the nearest answer, so far." The +professor turned and regarded his son curiously. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span>"I should really +like to know how you arrived at that conclusion."</p> + +<p>"Lizard died a long time ago," Charlie answered. "Couldn't wake up +this morning because you've got the bones upstairs."</p> + +<p>The professor laughed. "A very just observation," he remarked. "You +have a logical mind, Charles."</p> + +<p>Charles slid down from his chair. "I'm through my breakfast," he +announced. "Want to shovel."</p> + +<p>"You forget our programme, Charlie," said his father. "We are to loaf +now. It is always best to eat slowly, masticate your food well, +refrain from drinking when you are thirsty, and stand for half an hour +after eating. There are other things which I forget. But we will loaf +now."</p> + +<p>The professor lit a cigarette, after due preliminaries. Mrs. Ladue had +finished, apparently. She had come down rather to enjoy the rare +occasion than to eat. Perhaps it was a knowledge of that fact which +had kept the professor going and a desire—an inexplicable desire—on +his part to keep her in her state of happiness. It was seldom possible +to account for his actions. At all events, he was accomplishing that +end. It was a great pity that his desires did not always run in that +direction. It would have been so easy; so very easy for him, and it +would have made his wife so very happy. But the time when that would +have done any great good may have passed already.</p> + +<p>The professor followed out his programme religiously, talking when he +felt like it, always a pleasant and cheerful flow of irresponsible +talk, and loafing conscientiously for half an hour. Mrs. Ladue sat +still, saying little, afraid to move lest the movement break the +spell. Charlie had slipped out, unnoticed.</p> + +<p>Presently there was a great noise on the cellar stairs, sounding like +distant thunder. The noise stopped for a moment.</p> + +<p>"What's going on?" asked the professor casually. "Socialists in the +cellar? Not that I care," he added, with a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span>wave of his cigarette. +"Mere curiosity. I should be glad to meet any socialists; but not in +the cellar."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ladue laughed gently. It was a long time since the professor had +heard her laugh. That thought occurred to him.</p> + +<p>"You will, I think. They are opening the cellar door now. There they +come."</p> + +<p>For the noise had resumed, and was approaching along the hall. The +door of the dining-room swung open suddenly and Charlie entered, +earnest and intent and covered with dust and cobwebs. Behind him +dragged three snow-shovels, also covered with dust and cobwebs.</p> + +<p>Sally sprang for him. "Oh, Charlie—"</p> + +<p>He brushed her aside. "I brung your shovel, father," he said, "an' +Sally's. I couldn't lift 'em all at once, an' so I dragged 'em."</p> + +<p>The professor bowed. "So I gathered," he replied. "I thank you, +Charles."</p> + +<p>"But, Charlie," Sally cried, "you're all over dust and so are the +shovels. They ought to have been dusted."</p> + +<p>Charlie had dropped the shovels on the floor, thinking his mission +ended. Now he leaned over and thoughtfully wiped the shovels, one +after another, with his hand.</p> + +<p>"They are," he said, gazing at his grimy hand, "aren't they? But it +was dark an' I couldn't see. Besides, the snow'll clean 'em. I want to +shovel an' race, father," he added, somewhat impatiently. "Isn't it +time yet?"</p> + +<p>"Charlie," said his father, throwing away his cigarette, "in the words +of Friar Bacon's brass head, time is. Come on."</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER VII<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>The next month passed very pleasantly for the Ladues. Sleet-storms +cannot last forever and, the morning after Christmas, Sally heard the +trains running with some regularity. She was anxious accordingly and +she watched her father closely. But he did not seem to care whether +trains ever ran or not. His pleasant mood lasted, too: the mood of +light banter, in which he appeared to care something for his wife and +children; something, if not enough. They were grateful for that +little, although they knew very well that it was but a mood that might +change utterly in five minutes. It did not change for a surprisingly +long time, and Sally almost held her breath at first, while she waited +for it to pass. It would have been a relief—yes, distinctly it would +have been a relief, at first. But that feeling passed, too.</p> + +<p>In short, the professor was good, and Sally was happy. After the +tension of that first expectation was over she was very nearly as +happy as she should have been always. Children have a right to +happiness—to freedom from real worries—as far as we can compass that +end; and Sally had been deprived of her birthright. I wonder whether +the professor had ever realized that; whether he had ever given it a +thought.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ladue was happy, too, because Sally was happy and because her +husband was kind to her, temporarily. He was not as kind as he might +have been, but then, he might have been so very much worse. He might +have beaten her. He had been accustomed to beat her, figuratively, for +some years. At first, too, her head seemed really better. At the end +of a week of the new order of things, she spoke of it to Sally. She +knew better than to mention the subject of headaches to the +professor.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span>Sally was overjoyed. She buried her head in a pillow that happened to +be handy, and wept. A strange thing to do! "Oh, mother, dear!" she +cried. "Oh, mother, dear, if it only will stay so!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ladue gathered the child into her arms. "There darling!" she said +softly. "There, my dear little daughter! We'll hope it will."</p> + +<p>But when, at the end of a month, Sally looked back and compared, she +knew that it hadn't. It had been a happy month, though. Fox and +Henrietta had been in every day, and, while Sally played—or was +supposed to be playing—with Henrietta, Fox sometimes sat with her +mother. Mrs. Ladue became very fond of Fox. He didn't talk much, nor +did she. Indeed, Sally thought, in that fit of retrospection, that Fox +had seemed to be watching her mother; at least, occasionally. And Fox, +saying little, saw much. Sally knew. There was no telling how she knew +it, but she did; so she went to him, rather troubled, and asked what +he thought about her mother's health.</p> + +<p>He considered, looking seriously at her for a long time.</p> + +<p>"Well, Sally," he answered at last, "it isn't any better, on the +whole. I should think she ought to consult some doctor about it—some +good doctor."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Sally in a low voice, "you—I hope you don't think—"</p> + +<p>"I don't think, Sally," Fox interrupted. "I know there is some cause +beyond my limited knowledge, and some one who really knows should see +your mother—if any one really knows. Doctors don't know much, after +all."</p> + +<p>Sally considered, in her turn, for a long time, her eyes searching +Fox's face.</p> + +<p>"Then," she concluded, sighing, "I shall have to speak to father about +it. Well,—I will."</p> + +<p>"That's the best thing to do," he replied. "And, Sally, remember, if +he doesn't receive the suggestion favorably, you are to let me know."</p> + +<p>"He won't," said Sally, with a faint little smile; "that is, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span>he never +did. I let you know now. He may," she added doubtfully. "He has been +nice for a long time." Sally flushed at this implied confession, but +why should she not make it? Fox knew.</p> + +<p>"You try it, Sally, and let me know how you come out."</p> + +<p>So Sally tried it. It may have been a mistake, but how should Sally +have foreseen? It was as likely that, at the worst, she but hastened +her father's action; touched off the charge prematurely. The explosion +would have come.</p> + +<p>There was no beating about the bush. "Father," Sally began soberly, +"don't you think that mother ought to see some good doctor? I do."</p> + +<p>If her heart beat a little faster, as she spoke, there was no tremor +in her voice.</p> + +<p>Professor Ladue looked up. He had been prepared to throw back some +light answer and to see Sally smile in response; perhaps to hear her +chuckle. But, deuce take it, there was no knowing what that confounded +child would say next. It was presuming upon his good nature. It +occurred to the professor that he had been good-natured for an +unreasonably long time. He was surprised and he was annoyed.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile that confounded child was looking at him out of sombre gray +eyes, waiting for his reply. As the professor's look met those eyes, +they seemed to see right through him, and the sharp answer which +trembled on the tip of his tongue was left unsaid. It was astonishing +how often that happened. The professor was aware of it!—uncomfortably +aware—and the knowledge annoyed him the more. The professor was to be +excused. It is most unpleasant to have one's naked soul exposed to the +view of one's little daughter. One's soul needs to be a pretty good +sort of a soul to stand that, without making its owner squirm. And the +professor's soul was—well, it was his; the only one he had. But he +did squirm, actually and in the flesh.</p> + +<p>He tried to speak lightly, but his look shifted. He could not meet +Sally's eyes without speaking the truth. "What <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span>is the matter with +your mother, Sally?" he asked. "Stomach-ache or toothache?"</p> + +<p>Sally did not smile. "Her headaches. They are getting worse."</p> + +<p>"Pouf!" said the professor, with a wave of his hand. "Everybody has +headaches. What's a headache?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," Sally replied, "and she doesn't and I think she ought +to."</p> + +<p>"The definition," remarked the professor coldly, "is to be found in +the dictionary, I have no doubt. You might look it up and tell her."</p> + +<p>"And so I think," Sally continued, as if he had not spoken, "that +mother ought to see a doctor; a doctor that knows about headaches."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said the professor, more coldly than before. "So you would like +to have a specialist called in; a specialist in headaches."</p> + +<p>"I don't know whether that's what you call them," Sally returned +bravely. "If it is, then I would."</p> + +<p>Her father had turned toward her, but he did not look at her. "Most +interesting!" He got a cigarette from the drawer and proceeded to beat +out some of the tobacco. "Doctor—er—what's-his-name, from the +village, wouldn't do, then?"</p> + +<p>"No, he wouldn't." There was just a suspicion of a quiver in Sally's +voice. "He doesn't know enough."</p> + +<p>"Indeed! You have not communicated your opinion of his knowledge, or +his lack of it, to him, I take it?"</p> + +<p>Sally shook her head. She could not have spoken, even if the question +had called for a reply.</p> + +<p>"Do you know what a specialist charges, Sally?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head again.</p> + +<p>"For taking a case like your mother's, Sally," he said slowly, "which +would be nuts to him, I have no doubt, his charge would be more, in a +week, than I could pay in ten years."</p> + +<p>"It is very important," Sally urged. "It is very important for +mother."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span>The professor rose. "Much as I regret the necessity, I feel obliged to +decline." He made her a bow. "No specialists for this family. If your +mother feels the need of a physician, let her call Doctor +what's-his-name from the village."</p> + +<p>Sally turned to go without a word.</p> + +<p>"And, Sally," her father added, "be kind enough to tell your mother +that important matters at the college require my attention. She is not +to be alarmed if I fail to come in my usual train. I may be kept +late."</p> + +<p>The phrase sounded familiar. It was the old formula which Sally had +hoped would not be used again. She went out quietly, feeling +responsible. It was absurd, of course, but she could not help it. She +meant to find Fox and tell him; but not quite yet. She couldn't bear +it yet.</p> + +<p>The matters at the college must have been very important, for they—or +something—kept Professor Ladue late, as he had seemed to fear; the +important matters—or something—must have kept him too late for the +last train that night. To be sure, Sally did not know anything about +it, at the time. She had not indulged a hope of anything else, and had +gone to bed and to sleep as usual. For Sally was a healthy little +animal, and she was asleep in a very few minutes after her head had +touched the pillow. Her eyes may have been wet. Mrs. Ladue went to +bed, too. Her eyes were not wet, but there was an ache in her head and +another just above her heart. She may have gone to sleep at once or +she may not. It is conceivable that she lay there, with her two aches, +until after the last train had got in.</p> + +<p>It was the middle of the next forenoon before Sally got a chance to +tell Fox about it; and Fox listened, not too sympathetically. That +seemed to him to be the best way to treat it. He would have made light +of it, even, for Sally was oppressed by the sense of her own +responsibility; but Sally would have none of it.</p> + +<p>"Don't, Fox, please," she said.</p> + +<p>"Well," he replied, "I won't, then. But don't you worry, Sally. We'll +have your mother fixed up, all right, yet."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span>"How?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I haven't decided. But I'm going to bend the whole power of a great +mind to the question. When I've found the best way to do it, I'm going +to do it. You'll see."</p> + +<p>Sally sighed with relief. She had not got beyond the stage of thinking +that Fox could do anything that he tried to do. Perhaps he could.</p> + +<p>They were down by the gate, Fox leaning upon it and Sally standing on +a bar and swinging it gently. Occasionally she looked down the road.</p> + +<p>"Here comes father," she said suddenly, in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"Stay where you are, Sally." Fox checked her impulse to run.</p> + +<p>The professor was walking fast and he came in at the gate almost +immediately. Sally had dismounted. He looked annoyed and would have +passed without a word.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning," said Fox cheerfully.</p> + +<p>The professor turned, giving Fox one of his smiles which was not a +smile at all. If the professor had chanced to turn one of those smiles +upon a too confiding dog, the dog would have put his tail between his +legs and run. Vivisection came after.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning," said the professor acidly. "I shall be obliged to +delay our session for an hour."</p> + +<p>"Very well, sir, whenever it is convenient for you." And Fox smiled +cheerfully again.</p> + +<p>The professor turned once more. His eyes were bloodshot, he was +unshaven, and—well, tousled. In short, the professor looked as if he +had been sitting up all night. He had.</p> + +<p>"You see," said Sally solemnly. Her father was out of hearing, as may +be supposed.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER VIII<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>Professor Ladue had had a relapse. There was no doubt about it. It was +rather serious, too, as relapses are apt to be; but what could be +expected? He had been good for a long time, a very long time for him. +It was even an unreasonably long time for him, as had occurred to him, +you will remember, in the course of his conversation with Sally, and +nobody had any right to expect more. What Mrs. Ladue and her daughter +Sally thought they expected was really what they hoped. They did not +expect it, although they thought that they did; and the proof is that, +when the first relapse happened, they were not surprised. They were +deeply discouraged. The future looked pretty black to Sally as she +swung there on the gate. It looked blacker yet when the professor did +it twice again in one month. That was in March. But the worst was to +come. It was lucky that Sally did not know it. It is always lucky that +we do not know, at one blow, all that is to happen to us. Our courage +might not survive that blow. Instead, it has a chance to grow with +what it feeds upon.</p> + +<p>So Sally went her daily round as cheerfully as she could. That was not +any too cheerfully, and her unexpected chuckles became as rare as +roses in December. Even her smiles seemed to be reserved for her +mother and to be tender rather than merry. She watched the progress of +her mother's disease, whatever it was, with solicitude and anxiety, +although she tried desperately hard not to show her mother how anxious +she was.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ladue's progress was very slow; imperceptible, from day to day, +and she had her ups and downs. It was only when she could look back +for a month or more that Sally was able to say to herself, with any +certainty, that her <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span>mother was worse—that the downs had it. But +always, when Sally could look back and compare, she had to confess to +herself that that was so. The headaches were no more frequent nor did +they seem to be harder to bear; but her mother seemed—it was a +struggle for Sally to have to acknowledge it, even to herself—her +mother seemed to be growing stupid. Her intelligence seemed to be +diminishing. What was Fox thinking of, to let that happen?</p> + +<p>When this question presented itself, Sally was again swinging moodily +upon the gate, regarding the muddy road that stretched out before her. +Charlie was playing somewhere behind her, equipped with rubber boots +and a heavy coat. It is to be feared that Sally had forgotten Charlie. +It was not her habit to forget Charlie. And it is to be feared that +she was forgetting that the last day of March had come and that it was +warm and springlike, and that there were a number of birds about. It +was not her habit to forget any of those things either, especially the +birds. There was a flash of blue under a tree near by and, a few +seconds later, a clear song rang out. Charlie stopped his play and +looked, but Sally did not see the blue wings nor the ruddy breast nor +did she seem to hear the song.</p> + +<p>That question had brought her up short. She stopped her rhythmic +swinging to and fro.</p> + +<p>"I'll ask him," she said. Her faith in Fox was absolute.</p> + +<p>She opened the gate quickly, and started to run.</p> + +<p>There was a roar from Charlie. "Sally! Where you goin'? Wait for me! I +want to go, too. I'm awful hot. Can't I take off my coat? An' these +boots are hot. I want to take 'em off."</p> + +<p>Sally sighed and waited. "I'm afraid I forgot you, Charlie. Take off +your coat, if you're too hot, and leave it by the gate."</p> + +<p>Charlie had the overcoat off and he dropped it by the side of the +footpath.</p> + +<p>"Not there, Charlie," Sally said impatiently. "Inside the gate. We +don't leave overcoats by the side of the road."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span>"You didn't say inside," Charlie returned sulkily. "I left it where +you said." He opened the gate and cast the offending garment inside. +"And these boots—can I take 'em off?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Sally sharply, "of course not. If your feet are hot they'll +have to stay hot. You can't go in your stocking feet in March."</p> + +<p>"I don't see why not," grumbled Charlie. "I could take my stockings +off, too."</p> + +<p>Sally made no reply to this protest. She took his hand in hers. "Now, +run, Charlie. I'm in a hurry."</p> + +<p>So Charlie ran as well as a small boy can run in rubber boots and +along a path that is just muddy enough to be exceedingly slippery. +When they came to the corner that they had to turn to go to Fox's, he +was almost crying and Sally was dragging him. They turned the corner +quickly and almost ran into Henrietta.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" cried Henrietta, startled. "Why, Sally!"</p> + +<p>Charlie laughed. "Why didn't you go faster, Sally? Then we might have +run into her—plump."</p> + +<p>He laughed again, but got no attention from Sally.</p> + +<p>"Where's Fox?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"He went into town this morning," Henrietta answered. "He told me to +tell you to cheer up. I don't know what it's about, but probably you +do. I was just on my way to tell you. Come on. Let's go back to your +house."</p> + +<p>Sally gave a sigh of relief. Fox had not forgotten, after all. There +was nothing to do but to wait; but Sally was rather tired of waiting.</p> + +<p>"Well, Henrietta," she said, "then we will. But I want to see Fox as +soon as ever I can."</p> + +<p>Fox at that moment was sitting in the private office of a physician—a +specialist in headaches—and was just finishing his story. He had +mentioned no names and it was hardly conceivable that he was talking +about himself. Fox did not look like a person who was troubled with +any kind of aches.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span>That seemed to be the opinion of the doctor, at any rate. It would +have been your opinion or mine.</p> + +<p>"I take it that you are not the patient," he said, smiling.</p> + +<p>That doctor was not the type of the grasping specialist; he did not +seem to be the kind of man who would charge as much as a patient would +be likely to be able to pay—all that the traffic would bear. But who +is, when you come to know them? Probably the doctors of that type, in +any large city, could be counted on the fingers of one hand. I know of +one conspicuous example, and one only, and he is dead now. But he +squeezed out large fees while he lived, and became very rich; and he +was so busy with his squeezing that he had no time to enjoy his +gains—I had almost said his ill-gotten gains. But that is by the way.</p> + +<p>This doctor of Fox's—we will call him Doctor Galen, for the sake of a +name—this Doctor Galen was a kindly man, who had sat leaning one +elbow on the table and looking out at Fox under a shading hand and +half smiling. That half smile invited confidence, and, backed by the +pleasant eyes, it usually got it. Whether that was the sole reason for +its being is beside the question; but probably it was not.</p> + +<p>In response to the doctor's remark, Fox smiled, too, and shook his +head.</p> + +<p>"Am I to see this patient of yours?" asked Doctor Galen casually.</p> + +<p>Fox was distinctly embarrassed. "Is it absolutely necessary, Doctor?" +he asked, in return. "It is difficult to arrange that—without a +complete change of base," he added. "It might be done, I suppose, but +I don't see how, at this minute."</p> + +<p>"The only reason that it might be necessary," said the doctor, +speaking slowly, "is that you may have neglected some symptom that is +of importance, while seeming to you to be of no consequence whatever. +It is always desirable to see a patient. I have to take into account, +for example, the whole life history, which may be of importance—and +it may not."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span>Fox made no answer to this, but he looked troubled and he drummed with +his fingers upon his knee.</p> + +<p>"Can't we assume the patient to be—merely for the sake of fixing our +ideas—" Doctor Galen continued, looking away and searching for his +example, "well—er—Professor Ladue? Or, no, he won't do, for I saw +him a few days ago, in quite his usual health. Quite as usual."</p> + +<p>"You know Professor Ladue, then, Doctor?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I know him," the doctor replied dryly. "Well, as I said, he +won't do. Let us suppose that this case were that of—er—Mrs. Ladue." +The doctor looked at Fox and smiled his pleasant smile. "She will +answer our purpose as well as another."</p> + +<p>"Do you know Mrs. Ladue, too?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Doctor Galen. "No, I have not that pleasure. But I know her +husband. That," he added, "may be of more importance, in the case we +have assumed—with the symptoms as you have related them."</p> + +<p>Fox smiled very slightly. "Well, suppose that it were Mrs. Ladue, +then,—as an instance. Assuming that I have given all the symptoms, +what should you say was the matter with her?"</p> + +<p>Doctor Galen did not answer for some minutes. "Well," he said at last, +"assuming that you have given all the symptoms correctly—but you +can't have given them all. I have no means of knowing whether there is +any tendency to hardening of the walls of the arteries. How old is +she?" he asked suddenly.</p> + +<p>Fox was startled. "I'm sure I don't know," he answered. "Say that she +is thirty-odd—not over thirty-five."</p> + +<p>"That is not likely, then," the doctor resumed, "although it is +possible. I should have to see her to be sure of my ground. But, +assuming that there are no complications,—<i>no</i> complications,—there +is probably a very slight lesion in the brain. Or, it may be that the +walls of the arteries in this neighborhood"—the doctor tapped his +head—"are very thin and there is a gradual seepage of blood through +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span>them. To tell the truth, Mr. Sanderson, we can't know very exactly +what is happening until skulls are made of plate glass. But the remedy +is the same, in this case, whatever is happening, exactly."</p> + +<p>"What is the treatment?"</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Doctor Galen, apparently in surprise, "there is no +treatment. In the hypothetical case which we have assumed, I should +prescribe rest—absolute rest, physical and mental. We must give those +arteries a chance, you know; a chance to build up and grow strong +again. There is the clot to be absorbed, too. It is likely to be very +slight. It may be completely absorbed in a short time. Given time +enough, I should expect a complete recovery."</p> + +<p>"How much time?" Fox asked.</p> + +<p>"That depends upon how far she has progressed and upon how complete a +mental rest she can get. It might be any time, from a few weeks to a +few years."</p> + +<p>Fox hesitated a little. "Then, I suppose, any—er—anxiety might +interfere?"</p> + +<p>"Any mental disturbance," Doctor Galen replied decidedly, "would most +certainly retard her recovery. It might even prevent it altogether. +Why, she ought not to think. I hope she has not got so far that she is +unable to think?"</p> + +<p>"No, not yet," Fox sighed and rose. "It's not so simple as you might +suppose. But I'm grateful to you, Doctor. I'll see what can be done +and I may call upon you again." He put his hand to his pocket. "Shall +I pay you now?"</p> + +<p>Doctor Galen smiled as he checked Fox's motion. "Hadn't you better +wait until you get my bill? Yes, wait if you please."</p> + +<p>That smile of Doctor Galen's seemed to envelop Fox in an atmosphere of +kindliness. "You'll send one, Doctor?" he asked doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"How do you suppose, sir," said the doctor, smiling more than +ever,—he seemed really amused, that doctor,—"how do you suppose, +sir, that I should pay my grocer, otherwise? You have put yourself +into the clutches of a specialist, Mr. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span>Sanderson. We are terrible +fellows. You are lucky to escape with your life."</p> + +<p>"Well," Fox replied, laughing, "I thank you again, Doctor, at any +rate; and for letting me escape with my life."</p> + +<p>The doctor let him out by a door that did not open into the outer +office.</p> + +<p>"Let me know how you come on with your schemes," the doctor said. "I +am really interested. And, if you find it possible to give me a +half-hour with your patient, I hope you will do so. It will be much +better. Good-bye, Mr. Sanderson."</p> + +<p>"I will," said Fox. "Good-bye, Doctor."</p> + +<p>The doctor shut the door and touched a button on his desk. He was +still smiling. A nurse appeared noiselessly.</p> + +<p>"A nice boy, that, Miss Mather, and a deserving case," he commented. +"I should be glad to be able to believe that all my patients were as +deserving. But I shouldn't make much," he added.</p> + +<p>Miss Mather smiled, but made no other reply. The doctor was looking +over a little pile of cards. He took up the card from the top of the +pile.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Van Hoofe, Miss Mather."</p> + +<p>The nurse disappeared as noiselessly as she had come; and the doctor +proceeded to smooth out his smile and to assume a properly sympathetic +expression. Mrs. Van Hoofe would, perhaps, help him with his grocer's +bills.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER IX<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>Fox was not immediately able to compass the end that was so much to be +desired, but he did it, at last, not without misgivings. If Professor +Ladue had known, what would he have thought—and said—about such +interference with his domestic affairs? There were misgivings on Mrs. +Ladue's part, too, and Fox had to overcome those. She was in no +condition to combat Fox's wish, poor lady!—especially as it was her +own wish, so far as she had any wish in the matter; and she knew that +Sally had her heart set upon it. This is the way it happened.</p> + +<p>Sally had been regular in her attendance at the dancing-class, all +winter, and she had applied herself conscientiously to learn what she +went to learn, with more or less success. There is no doubt that she +learned the steps, but there is no less doubt that she failed to get +the Spirit of Dancing. Indeed,—I speak with hesitation,—the Spirit +of Dancing is born, not made. And how should Sally get it if she did +not have it already? How should she get it if she did have it already, +for that matter? It is not a thing that can be bought; it resembles +happiness in that respect. And, although one may buy a very fair kind +of an imitation of either, the real thing comes from within. Henrietta +had had the Spirit of Dancing born in her; in regard to Sally there is +some doubt.</p> + +<p>So, if Sally's success was not glittering, it was better than +Henrietta had feared it would be, and she breathed a sigh of relief at +the close of the last day. Sally breathed a sigh of relief, too. She +was unaffectedly glad that it was over. Mrs. Ladue, then experiencing +one of her ups, planned a party for Sally and invited the whole +dancing-class to it. It was to be a birthday party and was to be on +the nineteenth <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span>of April, when Sally would have completed her eleventh +year. Sally had always been glad that her birthday happened to come on +the nineteenth of April, for it was a great help in remembering +Leading Dates in American History—or one of them, at least.</p> + +<p>They neglected to apprise the professor of the plan, no doubt through +forgetfulness. For, how could he fail to be pleased that his daughter +was to have a birthday party? He did not find it out until the +seventeenth, two days before the event, and then only through the +inadvertence of the caterer, who asked him some question about it. The +caterer was a new man. He had been employed by Mr. Sanderson. Upon +hearing this announcement and without giving the man any reply to his +questions, Professor Ladue rushed off to town. He did not even leave +word, at home, that Mrs. Ladue must not be alarmed if he failed to +make his train. Fox happened to see him walking to and fro on the +station platform, evidently fuming, and to guess where he was going +and why.</p> + +<p>We may be very sure that Fox did not tell Mrs. Ladue, but she found it +out the next morning and immediately proceeded to have a down. The up +having had its turn, the down was due, of course, but it was a very +bad down. Fox telephoned for Doctor Galen.</p> + +<p>Doctor Galen came out that afternoon. Sally had not been told, but she +knew, somehow, and she was waiting for him by the gate.</p> + +<p>"Doctor," she said, "will you let me get you anything that you want +and—and wait on mother? Will you?"</p> + +<p>The doctor smiled down at her. "Why, my dear little girl—" he began, +looking into the earnest gray eyes. He did not finish as he had +intended. "I thank you," he said. "If I need anything, you shall get +it for me. And you shall wait upon your mother to your heart's +content. But I can't tell how much waiting upon she will need until I +have seen her."</p> + +<p>"Thank you!" Sally cried softly. "I'm glad. I'll take <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span>you to mother." +They started towards the house together. "Oh, I forgot," she added, +turning toward him. "I'm Sally Ladue."</p> + +<p>The doctor smiled down at her once more. "I gathered as much," he +replied, "putting this and that together. I guess that your mother and +your father are proud of their little girl."</p> + +<p>"I don't think that father is," Sally returned soberly.</p> + +<p>The doctor's eyes twinkled. "Why, that would be very strange. By the +way, where is your father? In town, at the college?"</p> + +<p>Sally flushed to the roots of her hair. "I think he is in town," she +answered, looking carefully straight before her.</p> + +<p>"Of course, he must have classes." The doctor had noted that fiery +flush and had drawn his inference. "One would think," he continued, +more to himself than to Sally, "that—er—one would think—" It was +none of his business, he reflected, and he could not see, for the life +of him, how—"Which is your mother's room, Sally?"</p> + +<p>They were just entering the house and the doctor was pulling off his +gloves.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'll take you up."</p> + +<p>Doctor Galen came out after about half an hour. "Now, Sally," he said +cheerfully, "we'll have her all right again, in time. It may take +quite a long time, so don't you get impatient if it seems slow, will +you, Sally?"</p> + +<p>"I'll try not to." Her lip quivered and she began to sob.</p> + +<p>"I'm c—crying bec—cause I'm g—glad." Then her sobs stopped suddenly +and she looked up at the doctor; but the tears rolled down her cheeks. +"Mother can't hear me?"</p> + +<p>"No, you blessed child. You come with me, Sally, and cry as much as +you like. It'll do you good. And I'll stay until you get through."</p> + +<p>So it happened that Fox found them behind a big tree, out of sight +from the house, Sally contentedly crying into the doctor's coat. +Henrietta had gone on.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span>"She's all right, Mr. Sanderson. It has done her good to cry. I think +she's about through, now."</p> + +<p>Sally stopped crying and smiled at them both. "I'm so glad, Fox," she +said.</p> + +<p>Fox looked inquiringly at the doctor. "Your opinion, then, is that she +will get well?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, if there are no complications. I shouldn't expect any."</p> + +<p>Sally, who had been waiting, apparently, to hear the doctor say this +once more, murmured something about her mother and started for the +house, running. She overtook Henrietta.</p> + +<p>"Sally," continued the doctor, "seems to be a dear child—"</p> + +<p>"She is."</p> + +<p>"And her father seems to be—well, it isn't necessary for us to say +what."</p> + +<p>Fox laughed.</p> + +<p>"There is only one thing—only one which looms up plainly. You and I +have got to think of some way to get Mrs. Ladue away from her present +surroundings. It would answer the purpose quite as well—perhaps +better," the doctor added thoughtfully,—"if her husband could be +removed from the environment. I am speaking rather plainly."</p> + +<p>Fox nodded. "I understand," he said. "It is not impossible that +Providence and Professor Ladue, working together, may accomplish that. +I don't know how," he admitted, seeing the question in the doctor's +eyes, "but I think there is going to be an explosion in that college, +some day, soon. Professor Ladue—"</p> + +<p>"Pig!" murmured Doctor Galen, under his breath.</p> + +<p>"Had better look out," Fox finished. "By the way, Doctor, shall we +have the party that we had planned for to-morrow—Sally's birthday—or +had we better call it off?"</p> + +<p>"If you can keep them out of the house," answered the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span>doctor slowly, +"and if they don't make too much noise, I see no objection to it. Mrs. +Ladue will probably sleep through it. I have left a mild +sleeping-potion—I want to keep her dozing, at any rate, for some +days. Arrangements all made, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"They can be unmade easily enough."</p> + +<p>"No, no. It isn't worth while. Let Sally have her party. I'll come to +it, myself. You tell her so, will you, Mr. Sanderson?"</p> + +<p>So Sally had her party. The knowledge that she had it was some comfort +to Mrs. Ladue, who, in her comfortable, half-asleep condition, was +dimly conscious—and glad—that her illness had made no difference in +the plans for Sally. And Doctor Galen had come; ostensibly to the +party. To be sure, he spent more than half the time with Mrs. Ladue, +mounting the stairs silently, once in a while. Then, if she was +sleeping, he would stand and watch her, observing every movement, +voluntary and involuntary. They all meant something to him; most of +them told him something. If she was not sleeping, she would open her +eyes and smile vaguely, being still in that comfortable, dozing state +when nothing seems to matter much. Then the doctor would enjoin +silence by raising his hand, and she would smile again and close her +eyes while he took a turn about the room, quietly, but not so quietly +as to make his patient nervous.</p> + +<p>It was fortunate that the day was pleasant and warm, for that made it +possible to spread the table at some distance from the house, where +the noise would not disturb Mrs. Ladue. Doctor Galen leaned against a +tree and looked on at the happy crew. When they seemed to be about +through their eating and talking, he beckoned to Sally, who came to +him at once.</p> + +<p>"I must go now, Sally," he said. "Your guests will be going pretty +soon, I suppose. You won't let them make too much noise near the +house?"</p> + +<p>"Why," Sally asked, startled, "is mother—"</p> + +<p>"Your mother is doing just what I want her to do," the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span>doctor +replied, interrupting her. "She is doing very well, indeed. It's only +a precaution, my dear little girl. I don't want you to worry, Sally. +I'll look out for your mother. You needn't do anything but follow the +directions I gave you. You can do that easily. And don't worry, Sally, +whatever happens."</p> + +<p>The quick tears had rushed to Sally's eyes as Doctor Galen spoke. "Oh, +yes, indeed, I can," she said, "and I won't." This speech was not as +clear as it might have been, and Sally realized it. "Oh, I mean—"</p> + +<p>"I know what you mean," the doctor returned, patting her shoulder. +"You're a good girl, Sally. Now, I must go."</p> + +<p>When the doctor went out at the gate, a few minutes later, he was +smiling. I don't know what he was smiling at, but it may have been at +the recollection of a kiss which Sally had just bestowed upon him. It +had taken him somewhat by surprise. It had been almost as much of a +surprise to Sally.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said to himself, "that was pretty good pay, considering. +But it's just as well that the Mrs. Van Hoofes don't—Hello!"</p> + +<p>For there, before him, was Professor Ladue, walking rapidly, his eyes +red and bloodshot, and looking generally tousled. The doctor glanced +at him, took in these details, and decided quickly that it would be +wiser not to speak. Accordingly, he passed the professor with no more +than a bow. The professor glared at him, bowed shortly, then half +turned.</p> + +<p>"A lovely spring afternoon, Doctor," he said, clearly and coldly, with +the grimace which did duty for a smile. It was even less like one than +usual.</p> + +<p>"Charming!" the doctor replied.</p> + +<p>"I should not suppose," continued the professor, almost snarling, +"that a man of your engagements would have time for profitless +excursions into the country."</p> + +<p>"Ah," the doctor returned, smiling, "but it was not <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span>profitless. I +have been to a birthday party; the party of Miss Sally Ladue."</p> + +<p>What reply should the professor have made to that? The professor, at +least, did not know. He turned, again, without a word.</p> + +<p>Doctor Galen looked after him, still smiling. Then he, too, turned +again. "I am sorry for Sally," he murmured, sighing. "But Sanderson is +there. He must get her out of it somehow."</p> + +<p>Sanderson could not get her out of it, as it happened. The little +bunch of guests was halfway down the walk, laughing and talking; even +Sally laughed a little, although she did not talk much, and her eye +was alert for anybody who might come in at the gate. She hoped, +fervently, that nobody would come in at that gate until the girls were +out of it and safe at home. Then her father emerged from behind the +screen of bushes along the wall and swung the gate wide.</p> + +<p>Sally gave one look. "Oh, Fox!" she cried.</p> + +<p>But Fox had seen and had run forward.</p> + +<p>"Why such haste, Mr. Sanderson?" sneered the professor. "Why such +haste? I require no assistance."</p> + +<p>He went on toward the house, smiling at the girls as he passed. The +way opened quickly before that smile of the professor's, and the +laughter and the talk died. The effect was astonishing. And while he +made his way rapidly onward, closely followed by Fox, the group of +Sally's guests fairly melted away. Once outside the gate, and behind +the sheltering screen, they ran.</p> + +<p>Sally met Fox just coming out.</p> + +<p>"It's all right, Sally," he said. "I persuaded him that no noise is to +be made. I persuaded him."</p> + +<p>Sally looked at Fox in wonder. "It didn't take long."</p> + +<p>"No, it didn't take long." There were curious firm lines about Fox's +mouth and his voice was not quite steady. What the nature of the +persuasion was, which was so effective and in so short a time, Sally +was not likely to know.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER X<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>Professor Ladue was rather more out of sorts with the world in general +than was usual on such occasions. He was very much out of sorts with +the world in general and with three of its inhabitants in particular: +with his wife, because he was unable, for reasons which Fox had made +clear to him in a very short time, to wreak his ill temper upon her; +with Fox, because he had succeeded so well in making those reasons +clear; and with Doctor Galen, because he was sure that the doctor was +attending Mrs. Ladue. Perhaps I should have said that the professor +was out of sorts with four persons in particular. The fourth person +was Sally. It is hard to see why he should have been put out with her, +who had done nothing to deserve it. But she was good and dutiful and +she saw through him clearly enough; and by so doing she kindled in him +a feeling of helpless resentment.</p> + +<p>Of course, we know very well that the professor's behavior was, +itself, the real cause of his feeling. The professor knew that well +enough. He was not dull-witted, whatever else he was. And, because he +knew it, he raged; and, because there was no outlet for his rage, he +raged the more, coldly. Those cold rages of his fairly scared Sally, +and she was not easily scared.</p> + +<p>His rage was not any the less because of a letter that Sally brought +up to him, late in the afternoon. She had shrunk from seeing him, but +the letter was from the college, bearing the university arms in the +corner, and it was for special delivery. So Sally thought that it +might be very important. There was no one else to take it to her +father, so she took it, and, in obedience to his brief command, and +with great inward relief, she tucked it under his door.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span>The letter was important, although not in the way that Sally had +surmised. It was from the provost of the university of which the +professor's college was a part, written with the venerable provost's +own hand and apparently in some haste. It stated that Mr. Ladue had, +that very day, been seen, by the provost and by one other member of +the governing body, to issue from a well-known gambling-house. That +fact, coupled with the rumors which had persisted for a year or two +past, made it imperative that Mr. Ladue should appear before the Board +of Governors, at their next meeting, to clear himself; or, if he +preferred, Mr. Ladue might send in his resignation at once, such +resignation to take effect at the close of the college year.</p> + +<p>That was all. One would think that it was quite enough. Professor +Ladue looked up from his brief reading.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" he cried airily. "The honorable provost addresses me as Mr. +Ladue. <i>Mr.</i> Ladue. And so I am to appear before the Board of Governors +for the purpose of clearing myself—of what? I am accused of coming out +of a house. After all, it is a very quiet, respectable-looking house, +indeed, in a quiet street, rubbing elbows with other quiet, +respectable-looking houses. Does it happen that the honorable provost +and that other member of the governing body have seen more than the +outside of that house? Do I appear before the Board of Governors? I do +not. And do I send in my resignation like a good little boy? I think +not. The honorable provost is a fool. I will write him a letter and +tell him so."</p> + +<p>So saying, the professor—we may call him the professor for almost the +last time—the professor went to his desk and wrote the letter. He was +in just the mood to write such a letter and it is to be remembered +that he dealt naturally in caustics. Consequently, the letter was an +excellent letter; it was exactly what it was meant to be. It was a +model of its kind. There is little doubt that it was a poor kind and +that it was very unwise to send it. Having been written, it should +have been burned—utterly destroyed. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span>It would have served its purpose +better. But the professor was in no mood to do what was merely wise. +He was pleased with the letter, proud of it. He was so pleased with it +that he read it over three times. Then he laughed and signed it.</p> + +<p>"That will, perhaps, make them sit up. It would give me some pleasure +to be present when he reads it." The professor gazed out into the +great tree, musing pleasantly. "No, it can't be done. It is a matter +of regret that it cannot."</p> + +<p>He sealed the letter and went out, at once, to mail it. He was quite +cheerful as he took his hat and his stick from the rack in the hall; +so cheerful that Charlie, who happened to catch sight of him, was +encouraged to hail him. He answered pleasantly, even buoyantly, so +that Sally was sure that she had been right and that the letter which +she had carried up had been important.</p> + +<p>The cheerfulness of the professor was spurious, but, such as it was, +it lasted, unimpaired, until the letter was posted. The mail was just +going out, and the postmaster, obliging as postmasters invariably are, +held it long enough to slip in the letter to the provost. The +professor saw it go; then doubts began to assail him, and his +cheerfulness ebbed. He stood irresolute until he heard the train. It +was useless to stand irresolute longer. It is always useless to stand +irresolute for any length of time whatever. The professor knew that +very well. With a quick compression of the lips, he turned homeward. +He was no longer cheerful.</p> + +<p>No doubt I was wrong in speaking of him as the professor that last +time. He was, henceforth, to be Mr. Ladue. His professorial career had +been cut off by that letter to the provost as cleanly and as suddenly +as by a sharp axe. That would be true of any college. Mr. Ladue did +not deceive himself about that. There was a need of adjustment to the +new conditions, and he set himself the task of thinking out just what +the new conditions were. He was so busy with his thinking that he +nearly ran into a young man. The young man had just issued from Mr. +Ladue's own gate. But was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span>it his gate? Mr. Ladue happened to have got +to that very matter. There seemed to be a reasonable doubt of it; +indeed, as he progressed farther in his thinking-out process and his +recollection emerged from the fog of habit, there seemed to be no +doubt that it was not his gate at all and that he had been allowed to +think of it as his and to call it his, purely on sufferance.</p> + +<p>For he remembered, with a shock, a thoughtless moment, a moment of +inadvertence,—a moment of insanity,—in which he had made over the +place to his wife, Sarah. He had got into the habit of forgetting all +about it. Now it was necessary that he should get out of that habit. +He had never regretted that act more keenly than at that moment. It +was the act of a madman, he told himself impatiently.</p> + +<p>As these thoughts passed rapidly through his mind, the aforesaid young +man had gone on his way. If he was to speak, he must speak quickly.</p> + +<p>He turned. "Oh, Fox," he said casually, "I am afraid I was rather +abrupt a short time ago. Pray accept my apologies."</p> + +<p>It was a new rôle for Mr. Ladue. It cost him something to assume it, +but it was necessary to his purposes that he should. This was one of +the new conditions which must be faced. It was an opportunity which +must be seized before it ceased to be. For Fox it was a totally new +experience to receive an apology from a man like Mr. Ladue. The +experience was so new that he blushed with embarrassment and +stammered.</p> + +<p>"Oh,—er—that's all right. Certainly. Don't apologize." He managed to +pull himself together, knowing that what he had said was not the right +thing at all. "And, Professor," he added, "shall we resume our studies +when Mrs. Ladue is better?—when she will not be disturbed?"</p> + +<p>Fox did not know as much about Mr. Ladue's affairs as we know, or he +might not have called him by that title. But yet he might.</p> + +<p>"To be sure," answered Mr. Ladue, apparently in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span>surprise; "why not? +Is she in a condition to be disturbed by such little matters? I had +rather expected to see her, to talk over an important question." If +Fox chose to infer that the important question related to certain +delinquencies of his own, why, let him think so.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid that will be impossible for some time," Fox replied +firmly. "Dr. Galen left instructions that she is, on no account, to be +disturbed. She is not to be compelled to think. It seems to be +important. His instructions were explicit and emphatic on that point."</p> + +<p>"Ah," Mr. Ladue remarked calmly. "So Dr. Galen is running my house."</p> + +<p>"Yes." There was no lack of firmness in Fox's voice, although he was +not flushing now. "Dr. Galen is running your house. That is the +situation exactly."</p> + +<p>"And may I ask," Mr. Ladue inquired coldly,—"may I venture to ask how +it happens that a specialist—one of the most expensive in the +city—is in such a position that he can assume to do so?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly you may. I will try to make it clear that it was necessary, +but it will not alter the situation if I fail. Immediately after your +leaving for town, Mrs. Ladue had one of her attacks. It seemed to +Sally—and to me—essential that she should have expert advice at +once. So—in your absence—I sent for Dr. Galen. I am very glad that I +did."</p> + +<p>"Do you know what his price will be?"</p> + +<p>"I do not. What difference does it make? Mrs. Ladue's life may depend +upon her having the best advice there is to be had."</p> + +<p>Mr. Ladue did not answer immediately. He could not well say to Fox +that that was a matter of less importance to himself than the price +that would be charged. Besides, he was not sure that it mattered to +him what Dr. Galen charged. He had no intention of paying it. They +ought to have known that they could not saddle him with their bills +without his consent. Further than that——</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span>"It's all right, of course, Fox," said Mr. Ladue pleasantly, looking +up. "I didn't realize that Mrs. Ladue's condition was serious. Thank +you. Come in as soon as you think it advisable and we will continue +our studies. Good-night."</p> + +<p>"Good-night." Fox turned away with a curious mingling of feeling +toward Mr. Ladue. He could not help feeling grateful to him, yet he +did not trust him. What next?</p> + +<p>That was precisely the question Mr. Ladue was asking himself as he +walked slowly toward the house. What next? It was most unfortunate +that he could not see his wife, most unfortunate. If he could have the +chance to talk to his wife, Sarah, now, he thought he could persuade +her. Give him but five minutes and he was sure he could persuade her. +He would do better to have the papers ready. He wondered whether he +dared; and, for an instant, he entertained the idea of having that +talk, in spite of Fox and of Dr. Galen. He thought upon it.</p> + +<p>"No," he said to himself, "it wouldn't do, under the circumstances. It +wouldn't do. We'll have to give that up."</p> + +<p>Mr. Ladue deserved no credit for deciding to give that up. It is to be +feared that the possibility of evil consequences to his wife, Sarah, +played no part in forcing him to that decision. The important thing is +that he did so decide. In the short time that remained before dinner, +he walked to and fro in his room, thinking hard. He could do that very +well when he applied himself to it. At dinner he was unexpectedly +pleasant, giving Sally a sense of security that was not at all +justified by the event. In that, no doubt, he was doing just what he +intended.</p> + +<p>That evening, having devoted a certain brief time to thinking to some +purpose, he packed his bag and wrote a short note to his wife. It is +immaterial what he said in that note, but he ended it with these +words: "So you may keep your place, madam, and much good may it do +you. In fact, I think that you will have to keep it. You could not +give a good deed or a good mortgage without my signature." It <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span>seemed +an entirely uncalled-for evidence of his ill humor. What had Mrs. +Ladue done to deserve it?</p> + +<p>In the morning he came to breakfast as usual, and again he was very +pleasant. Indeed, he was so pleasant that the fact excited Sally's +suspicions. He was not usually so pleasant on the morning after. And +when he had gone to his customary train—carrying a bag, Sally +noted—she found his note, sealed, and addressed, in her father's +well-known scrawling hand, to her mother. She took possession of the +note. Of only one thing was she sure and that was that no note written +by her father—and sealed—was going to be delivered to her mother; at +least, not without advice.</p> + +<p>Later she showed the note to Fox; and he, being as uncertain what +ought to be done as Sally was, showed it to Dr. Galen. They three +decided, much against their will, to see what Mr. Ladue had said.</p> + +<p>"For," Dr. Galen observed, "Mrs. Ladue is not in condition to read a +note of any kind. She will not be in that condition for a week, at +least. It seems to me, Sally, that you should know what your father +says, especially in view of the circumstances. I advise you to open +it."</p> + +<p>"You do it," said Sally.</p> + +<p>So the doctor did it. "Of course," he remarked, as he slid the blade +of his knife under the flap, "if, on glancing at it, I see that it is +improper for me to read, I shall not read it. But if, as I fear—"</p> + +<p>He was reading it. "The cur!" he muttered, as he finished. He handed +it to Fox. "You read it, Mr. Sanderson."</p> + +<p>Fox read it and chuckled. "I ought not to laugh," he explained, "but +it is so—so futile. Delivery to Mrs. Ladue seems out of the question. +And, Sally," he went on, "you shall see this if you want to, but I +wish that you would not want to. Your father has gone, apparently."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Sally, somewhat puzzled, "I know it; to the university?"</p> + +<p>"Not to the university, I think. He seems to have lit out. He says +something about getting another position suited to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span>him. He says some +other things that it would give you only pain to read."</p> + +<p>Sally's face expressed a curious mingling of anxiety and relief. "I +won't read it if you don't want me to," she said. "But—but what—how +shall we get any money?"</p> + +<p>"Don't you worry about that. We'll manage to raise a few cents when we +need to."</p> + +<p>Fox had said "we" and that seemed to comfort Sally. Fox turned to the +doctor.</p> + +<p>"The environment has taken care of itself," he remarked; and the +doctor smiled.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER XI<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>It was in all the papers. The honorable provost seemed to wish that +the fact of Professor Ladue's break with the authorities of the +university should be known, and he graciously allowed himself to be +interviewed on the subject once a week. As was to be expected, but one +side of the question was presented in these interviews, but that may +have worked no injury to Mr. Ladue, who received undeserved credit for +his silence. It was just as well. In none of those interviews did the +honorable provost give out the letter that Mr. Ladue had written. That +letter contained certain pointed passages which the press should not +get hold of, if he could help it. Mr. Ladue had some reason to be +proud.</p> + +<p>Then the reporters began to come out to Mr. Ladue's house, in the hope +of an interview with him. They did manage to get a few words with +Sally, but the words were very few and then Fox came in. So it came +about that Fox Sanderson spent most of his time, from breakfast-time +until bedtime, at the Ladues'. Naturally, Henrietta was there, too. +Sally was well content with any arrangement which brought them both +there all the time.</p> + +<p>Those would have been hard times with the Ladues if it had not been +for Fox Sanderson. Mrs. Ladue owned the place, to be sure, but she +owned very little else; hardly more than enough to pay the taxes. And +if Mr. Ladue had been a hard man to extract money from, at least he +had kept the tradesmen satisfied; or, if not satisfied, they were +never sufficiently dissatisfied to refuse to supply the necessities. +It was a different case now, and Sally wondered a good deal how they +contrived to get along. She knew that Fox was managing their affairs, +but things had been going on in this way for a long time before she +got to the point of wondering <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span>whether he was supplying the money. She +reached that point at last, and she asked Fox about it.</p> + +<p>She had waited until she got him alone and was sure that they would +not be interrupted.</p> + +<p>"Fox," she asked without preamble, "where do we get our money?"</p> + +<p>Fox was taken by surprise. He had not been expecting any question of +the kind. He found himself embarrassed and hesitating.</p> + +<p>"Why," he answered, not looking at her, "why—our money? Er—what do +you want to know for?"</p> + +<p>Sally was regarding him steadily. "Because," she replied, "I think I +ought to. Where do we get it?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't you care, Sally," said Fox carelessly. "We get it +honestly."</p> + +<p>Sally's earnest regard did not waver. "Of course we get it honestly. +But where? I think you ought to tell me, Fox. Do you give it to us?"</p> + +<p>Sally, bent upon the one purpose, had not thought of sitting down. She +stood squarely before Fox, her fingers interlocked before her, and +gazed up into his face. Fox shifted his weight to the other foot as +she asked the question. Then he laughed a little.</p> + +<p>"I give it to you! What an idea!"</p> + +<p>"But do you?" Sally insisted. "You haven't said you don't."</p> + +<p>"Let's sit down, Sally," said Fox, attempting a diversion. "Aren't you +tired?"</p> + +<p>"No, I'm not. But you sit down if you want to. Excuse me for keeping +you standing."</p> + +<p>Fox found a chair and seated himself comfortably. Sally again faced +him, still standing.</p> + +<p>"Aren't you going to sit down?" asked Fox, seemingly surprised. +"Please do. I can't be satisfied to sit, with you standing." He placed +a chair for her.</p> + +<p>"All right," Sally moved the chair around so that she would face him, +and sat down.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span>"What a lovely summer day, Sally!" he said. "Isn't it, now?"</p> + +<p>Sally laughed. She would not be diverted. "Yes," she said. "But you +haven't answered my question."</p> + +<p>"Well," asked Fox, sighing, "what is the question?" There seemed to be +no escape.</p> + +<p>"Where do we get our money? Do you give it to us?"</p> + +<p>"But that," he remonstrated, "makes two questions."</p> + +<p>The quick tears rushed into Sally's eyes. "Oh, Fox, won't you tell +me?"</p> + +<p>Fox glanced at her and gave in at once. He told the strict truth, for +nothing less would do, for Sally. He couldn't have told anything else, +with those solemn, appealing gray eyes looking at him.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you, Sally," he said quickly. "Just trust me."</p> + +<p>Sally smiled. It was like a burst of sunshine. "I do."</p> + +<p>"I know it," he returned, "and I'm proud of it. Well, I have been +advancing what money has been needed for the past three months. You +can't say I've given it to you. I'd rather say us, Sally. So you see, +you can't say I've given it to us, for we—Henrietta and I—have been +here so very much that we ought to pay something. We ought to +contribute. I don't like to call it board, but—"</p> + +<p>"Why not?" Sally asked, interrupting. "Why don't you like to call it +board?"</p> + +<p>"Well," Fox answered, rather lamely, "you don't take boarders, you +know."</p> + +<p>"I don't see," said Sally, brightening distinctly, "I can't see why we +don't—why we shouldn't, if mother's well enough. I've been thinking."</p> + +<p>"But that's just it. Your mother is not well enough for you to take +regular, ordinary boarders. You mustn't think of it."</p> + +<p>"Would you call you and Henrietta regular, ordinary boarders?" Sally +asked, after a few moments of silence.</p> + +<p>Fox laughed. "On the contrary, we are most irregular, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span>extraordinary +boarders. But why, Sally? Would you like to have—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," cried Sally at once. "I should like it very much. But I +don't know whether you would."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I should like it very much, too. But there have seemed to be +certain reasons why it wasn't best to live here."</p> + +<p>"But you live here now," Sally objected; "all but sleeping. We've got +rooms enough."</p> + +<p>"I'll think it over; and, if I think we can come, we will."</p> + +<p>"I hope you will. I should feel comfortabler. Because I don't see how +we can ever pay you back; at any rate, not for a long time. We should +have to wait until I'm old enough to earn money, or until Charlie is. +And I'm four years older."</p> + +<p>Fox smiled at the idea of waiting for Charlie. But Sally went on.</p> + +<p>"And there's another thing. There's Doctor Galen."</p> + +<p>"Oh, so the doctor's the other thing. I'll tell him."</p> + +<p>"The money that we have to pay him is the other thing." Sally was very +earnest. "Will it be much, do you think?"</p> + +<p>"Sally, don't you worry. I asked the doctor just that question and he +told me I had better wait until he sent his bill. He hasn't sent it +yet."</p> + +<p>"Well—will it be as much as a hundred dollars?"</p> + +<p>"It is possible that it may be as much as that."</p> + +<p>"Oh, will it be more?" Sally was distressed. When should she be able +to save—even to earn a hundred dollars. "We can't ever pay it, Fox; +not for years and years."</p> + +<p>Again Fox told her not to worry. She did not seem to hear him. She was +following her thought.</p> + +<p>"And, Fox, if you have to pay it, we shall owe you an awful lot of +money. Have—have you got money enough?"</p> + +<p>Fox Sanderson did not have an "awful lot" of money. That very question +had been giving him some anxiety. But he would not let Sally suspect +it.</p> + +<p>"I guess I'll be able to manage, Sally."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span>"I hope so. And I've been thinking, Fox, that I ought to help."</p> + +<p>"Why, Sally, you do help. Just think of the things you do, every day, +helping about your mother, and about the house."</p> + +<p>"Yes," she returned, "but I mean about earning money. Those things +don't earn money. Couldn't I learn typewriting and go into somebody's +office? Or couldn't I teach? Do you have to know a lot of things, to +teach, Fox?"</p> + +<p>Fox smiled. "Some teachers that I have known," he answered, "haven't +known such an awful lot of things. But if you really want to teach, +Sally, you ought to be trained for it. At least," he added, more to +himself than to Sally, "that is the popular opinion."</p> + +<p>Again Sally was distressed. "Do you have to go to college, Fox?"</p> + +<p>"Well," answered Fox, smiling, "not exactly, but something of the +sort. There's a normal school or the training school for teachers, or +whatever they call it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear!" Sally wailed. "Everything takes so long! I wanted to do +something right away. Can't you think of anything, Fox?"</p> + +<p>"Not right off the bat. I'll see what thoughts I can raise on that +subject. But if I don't think of anything, would you like to plan to +be a teacher, Sally?"</p> + +<p>"If it would help mother, I would. If that's the best thing we can +think of. I'd do anything to help mother. I'd go out scrubbing or I'd +sell papers or—or anything."</p> + +<p>"Bless your heart!" Fox exclaimed under his breath. "Bless your dear +heart, Sally! You needn't go out scrubbing or washing dishes or +selling papers or anything of the kind. You can do better than that. +And your mother is likely to need your help about as much when you are +fitted for teaching as she does now."</p> + +<p>"Is—isn't mother getting better?" asked Sally, hesitating.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Fox, "but very slowly; very slowly indeed. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span>Doctor Galen +thinks it will be some years before she is herself again. Think, +Sally, how much better it will be for you to be getting ready. Suppose +she was well now. What would you and she do? How would the conditions +be different?"</p> + +<p>Sally murmured something about taking boarders.</p> + +<p>"Well," Fox observed, "I never have taken 'em and so I have no +experience with that end of it. But Henrietta and I have been boarding +for a good many years now—ever since mother died—and we have seen a +good deal of all kinds of boarders. On the average, they seem to be an +unmannerly and ungrateful lot. Don't you be a party to making 'em +worse, Sally. Don't you do it."</p> + +<p>Sally laughed.</p> + +<p>"Besides," he went on, "it's pretty apt to be humiliating."</p> + +<p>"I suppose that's something unpleasant," Sally said quietly, "and, of +course, it wouldn't be pleasant. I shouldn't expect it to be."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe there's any money in it."</p> + +<p>Sally paused a moment to digest that phrase. Then she sighed.</p> + +<p>"You know more about it than I do. I'll do just what you say, Fox."</p> + +<p>The gate clicked and they both looked around.</p> + +<p>"Here comes Henrietta," said Fox. "Now we'll all go out in the shade +and play. But, Sally," he added hastily, "have you got any rich +relatives?"</p> + +<p>"Rich relatives!" Sally exclaimed. "Not that I know of. Or, wait. +There's Miss Hazen—Martha Hazen. She's a cousin of father's, but I +don't know how rich she is. I've never seen her."</p> + +<p>"Where does she live?"</p> + +<p>"Up in Massachusetts, somewhere. I think she's queer."</p> + +<p>"The queerer the better. Your father's cousin, is she? It wouldn't be +strange. Can you find out where she lives, Sally?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span>Sally thought she could. "And, Fox," she reminded him,—she was afraid +he might forget,—"you see if you can't come here to live. Will you, +Fox?"</p> + +<p>He nodded. Henrietta was at the piazza steps. "I'll ask Doctor Galen +about it."</p> + +<p>"What'll you ask Doctor Galen about, Fox?" inquired Henrietta. "Are +you and Sally talking secrets?"</p> + +<p>"I'll ask the doctor what should be done with a very troublesome +little sister," he answered, smiling at her.</p> + +<p>"You might get rid of her by sending her off to boarding-school," +Henrietta remarked. "Not that she wants to go."</p> + +<p>"No boarding-school for you yet, young lady. There are one hundred +reasons why, and the first is—is so important that the ninety-nine +others don't matter."</p> + +<p>Fox had caught himself just in time. He had intended to say that he +didn't have the money. Well, he hadn't; but he didn't mean to tell +Sally so.</p> + +<p>"I suppose that first reason," said Henrietta, "is that you can't +spare me."</p> + +<p>"Wrong. That is the second. And the third is that you are too young. +Never mind the others. We are going out to play now, Henrietta." Sally +darted into the house. "Where are you going, Sally?"</p> + +<p>"After Charlie," she called softly. "I'll be right back. And let's be +sauruses!"</p> + +<p>"Sauruses it is," Fox returned. "I say, Henrietta, can you climb trees +as well as Sally?"</p> + +<p>"Well, not quite"—hesitating—"but I'm learning."</p> + +<p>"You live in a cave with Charlie," he said decidedly.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER XII<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>To tell the truth, the question of money had been troubling Fox +somewhat, for he did not have an "awful lot," to use Sally's words. +There was enough for him and Henrietta to live upon in great comfort; +but when the amount which will support two people in comfort has to +take care of five, it needs to be spread pretty thin. To be sure, +there was no particular reason why Fox should have felt obliged to +look out for the Ladues. One wonders why he did it. That question had +occurred to him, naturally, but only to be dismissed at once, +unanswered. He could not leave that little family in their misfortunes +without visible means of support, and that was the end of it.</p> + +<p>These considerations will serve to explain Fox's state of mind: why he +felt it to be necessary to provide for Sally's future; to see to it +that she should have a future of any kind. They may also explain his +inquiries about rich relatives. Not that he had, at the moment, any +definite idea as to his course of action in the event that she had +such desirable and convenient appendages. In fact, it remained to be +seen whether they were either desirable or convenient. And he wished +very much that it might be considered no impropriety for him and +Henrietta to live at the Ladues'. It would simplify many matters.</p> + +<p>Doctor Galen, to whom he spoke, with some hesitation, of this wish of +his, reassured him.</p> + +<p>"I should say that it would be a very wise move," said the doctor, +smiling. "Where is the impropriety?"</p> + +<p>Fox murmured something about Professor Ladue and about his seeming to +take the management of his family out of the professor's hands. He +felt a little delicate about making any further move in the same +direction.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span>"Pouf!" the doctor exclaimed scornfully. "Ladue has relinquished all +right to management, and it's a very fortunate thing that he has. Mrs. +Ladue will be very much of an invalid for a number of years, unless +all signs fail. There may be some prying people—but there are always. +You had better tell Sally that you will come at once. I think it most +necessary."</p> + +<p>Fox was distinctly relieved. He went on to tell the doctor of his +conversation with Sally. "And the other children—except +Henrietta—have fought shy of coming to see her since that day of the +party," he continued. "I suppose they were frightened. They have +scarcely been near her. Not that Sally seems to care. I think she is +glad when she thinks of them at all. But she has too much care. She +takes life too seriously. Why, that party was on her eleventh +birthday, and she wants to go out scrubbing or selling papers. +Anything to earn money. We can't let her feel so, Doctor; we just +can't."</p> + +<p>"Bless her!" said the doctor; "of course we can't. She needn't worry +about my bill, and you needn't. Between us, Sanderson, we must look +out for these three babes in the wood."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Doctor."</p> + +<p>"And, Sanderson," the doctor pursued confidentially, "if you find +yourself short of money,—you might, you know,—just let me know. But +don't tell anybody, or the Assyrians will be upon me, like the wolf on +the fold; and their cohorts won't be gleaming with purple and gold. +Not of mine, they won't."</p> + +<p>Fox laughed. "Thank you again, Doctor. Thank you very much. But I +think I shall be able to carry my end, on that basis."</p> + +<p>Fox did carry his end. He and Henrietta moved to the Ladues' as soon +as they could, Fox into the professor's old room, with the skeleton of +the professor's little lizard on the floor, under the window, and with +the professor's desk to work at. He seemed to have been pushed by +chance into <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span>the professor's shoes, and he did not like it, +altogether. He made a faint-hearted protest at the room.</p> + +<p>Sally's eyes filled. "Why, Fox," she said, "it's the best room we've +got. Isn't it good enough?"</p> + +<p>"It's much too good, Sally. I don't expect or want such a good room."</p> + +<p>"Oh, is that all!" Sally was smiling now. "If it's good enough, I +guess you'll have to be satisfied. It's ever so much convenienter to +give you father's room."</p> + +<p>So Fox had to be satisfied. Henrietta had the room next Sally's own. +That arrangement was "convenienter," too.</p> + +<p>One of the first things he did at the professor's desk was to write a +letter to Miss Martha Havering Hazen. Sally had succeeded in finding +her address.</p> + +<p>"She lives in Whitby, Massachusetts," she announced. "I don't know the +name of the street, and I don't know how rich she is."</p> + +<p>With this, the affairs of Miss Martha Havering Hazen passed from +Sally's mind. She had other things to attend to. Fox wrote Miss Hazen +a letter in which he set forth, in a very business-like way, the +plight in which the Ladue family found themselves, his desire, and +Sally's, that Sally's future should be provided for, and the manner in +which it was proposed to provide for the aforesaid future. He finished +with the statement that the funds at his command were insufficient for +all the purposes which it was desired to accomplish, and he inquired +whether she were disposed to give any aid and comfort. Then, having +posted this, he waited for the answer.</p> + +<p>He waited for the answer so long that he began to fear that his letter +might not have reached Miss Hazen; then he waited until, at last, he +was convinced that she never received it, and he had begun to think +that she must be a myth. When he reached this conclusion, he was +sitting on the piazza and Sally and Henrietta and Doctor Galen were +coming up the path together. Sally had her hands behind her. She came +and stood before Fox, her eyes twinkling.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span>"Well," she began.</p> + +<p>But Fox would not wait. "Sally," he said, interrupting her, "what +makes you think that Miss Martha Hazen is in existence at all. You've +never seen her. I'll bet there's no such a person and never was. She's +a myth."</p> + +<p>"What'll you bet?" she asked promptly.</p> + +<p>"Anything you like."</p> + +<p>"No, I won't bet, for it wouldn't be fair." This settled it for Sally. +In that respect she was different from her father. She was different +from her father in some other important respects, too. "Which hand +will you have, Fox?"</p> + +<p>"I guess I'd better have both."</p> + +<p>So Sally brought both hands around into view and cast a letter into +his lap. Her eyes danced. "There!" she said. "Now, what'll you bet?"</p> + +<p>Doctor Galen was leaning against the railing and Henrietta could not +keep still.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Fox," she cried, "open it and let's hear what she says. Sally +showed it to us and we know about it."</p> + +<p>"Open it, Sanderson," the doctor put in; "don't keep us all in the +dark. It's suspense that kills."</p> + +<p>So Sanderson opened it and read it. It was not a long letter.</p> + +<p>The others grew impatient. "Come, come," said the doctor, "tell us. It +doesn't matter what you wrote to her. What does she say?"</p> + +<p>"She says," said Fox, smiling, "that, as of course she didn't know me, +she has been obliged to have all my statements investigated. That +accounts for the delay. She has found them all to be true. Gratifying, +isn't it? But the important thing is that she offers to take Sally to +live with her and agrees to educate her properly—if Sally will go."</p> + +<p>They were all very sober and nobody spoke. Sally was solemn and the +tears came slowly. None of them had contemplated this, Sally least of +all. She felt as if there had been an earthquake or some such +convulsion of nature.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span>"Well, Sally," Fox went on at last, in a low voice, "it seems to be up +to you. Will you go?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know," Sally's eyes were wide with anxiety and with +doubt, and the tears dropped slowly, one by one. "How can I, all of a +sudden? It's a tremendous surprise. I don't want to, but if it will +help more than staying at home, I'll go." Suddenly an idea seemed to +have struck her. It must have given her great relief, for the tears +stopped and she looked happy once more. "But," she said eagerly, "how +can I? Who will take care of mother? And what would we do with +Charlie? Really, Fox, I don't see how I can go."</p> + +<p>Strangely enough, Fox seemed to be relieved, too. At any rate, he +smiled as though he were.</p> + +<p>"Sure enough," he replied, "how can you? We might possibly manage +about your mother," he added, with a glance at the doctor, "but +Charlie is a problem."</p> + +<p>Doctor Galen had nodded, in answer to that glance of Fox's. "You +needn't worry about your mother, Sally," he said then. "We would take +good care of her. Do you know that I have a sanitarium for just such +patients? There are nurses and everything to make it convenient. And +there are no bothering children—with their brothers—always +underfoot." As he said that, the doctor smiled and rested his hand, +for a moment, on Henrietta's shoulder. Henrietta turned and laughed up +at him.</p> + +<p>"A base libel," Fox remarked. "But all that doesn't take care of +Charlie."</p> + +<p>"Might farm him out," the doctor suggested. "What do you think of that +idea, Sally?"</p> + +<p>"I don't believe I know what you mean," she answered. "Charlie +wouldn't be much good on a farm, although I suppose a farm would be a +good place for him. Some farms would," she added.</p> + +<p>"It depends on the farm, doesn't it?" said Fox. "It generally does. +But don't you care what the doctor meant, Sally. He didn't mean +anything, probably. We aren't <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span>going to farm Charlie out anyway. What +shall I say to Martha? That's the immediate point."</p> + +<p>Sally chuckled. "I'll write to Martha," she said, as soon as she could +speak; "that is, if you'll let me. I'll thank her ever so much for +offering to take me, and I'll tell her why I can't come. May I, Fox?"</p> + +<p>"All right." Fox tossed her the letter. "And, Sally," he called +softly, for she had started into the house, meaning to write her +letter at once. "Sally, if Martha answers your letter, you tell me +what she says."</p> + +<p>So Sally wrote to Martha. It took her a long time and she used up +several sheets of her mother's best note-paper before she got a letter +written that she was satisfied to send. Miss Hazen was longer in +replying, although she was not so long as she had been in replying to +Fox. Sally did not care. Indeed, she did not give the matter a +thought. She considered the question settled.</p> + +<p>It was not. Miss Hazen must have liked Sally's letter, for she +grudgingly consented to have Charlie come, too, if that was all that +stood in the way of Sally's acceptance of her offer. This was a +surprise to everybody; to none of them more than to Miss Hazen +herself. She had no liking for young children. But she did it. There +seemed to be no escape for Sally now, and she put the letter in Fox's +hand without a word.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, Sally?" he asked, shocked at her tragic face. "Has +the bottom dropped out?"</p> + +<p>Sally smiled, but her chin quivered. "It seems to me that it has. You +read it, Fox."</p> + +<p>So Fox read it. He was very sober when he looked up and it was a long +time before he spoke.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said at last, whimsically, "Martha's put her foot in it +this time, hasn't she? What do you think you're going to do?"</p> + +<p>"I don't see how I can refuse any longer," Sally answered, her voice +quivering as well as her chin. "Charlie was the only objection that I +could think of; the only real objection. I s'pose I'll have to go now, +and take Charlie."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span>Fox did not reply immediately.</p> + +<p>Sally's chin quivered more and more, and her tears overflowed. "Oh, +Fox," she wailed, "I don't want to. I don't want to leave mother and +home and—and everybody."</p> + +<p>Fox drew her toward him and patted her shoulder. "There, there, +Sally," he said gently. "You shan't go if you don't want to. We'll +manage somehow. Don't feel so badly, Sally. Don't."</p> + +<p>Sally's fit of crying was already over. Her tears ceased and she felt +for her handkerchief.</p> + +<p>"I won't," she said, with a pitiful little attempt at a smile. "I'm +not going to cry any more. Have—have you got a handkerchief, Fox?"</p> + +<p>Fox wiped her eyes. "We'll call a council of war," he said; "you and +Doctor Galen and I will talk it over and decide what shall be done. +Not about Martha," he added hastily. "That's settled, Sally, if you +don't want to go. I'll write to her and tell her that you can't come."</p> + +<p>"No," Sally protested earnestly, "it's not settled; at least, not that +way. I'll go if—if that's the best thing for us. I was only crying +because—because I hate to think of leaving. I can't help that, you +know, Fox."</p> + +<p>"I know, Sally. I've been through it all."</p> + +<p>"And so our council of war," Sally continued, "will decide about that, +too."</p> + +<p>The council of war held a long and earnest session and eventually +decided that it was best for Sally to accept Miss Hazen's offer and to +go to Whitby. Sally acquiesced in the decision, but it seemed to Fox +necessary to do a little explaining.</p> + +<p>"You know, Sally," he said, "your mother is likely to be a long time +in getting back her health. She won't be herself for a number of +years. It would only be painful to you—"</p> + +<p>"I know all that, Fox," Sally interrupted, a little impatiently. She +had had it pretty thoroughly drummed into her. "I know all that, and +it doesn't make any difference whether I think so or not. I see that +it's the best thing for <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span>us all that Charlie and I should go, and we +will go. That's settled. But you will write to me often, and let me +know how mother gets along—and tell me the news, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"Why, of course I am going to," Fox cried with emphasis. "What did you +think—that we were going to let you slip away from us suddenly, +altogether? Not much. I'm going to write you every blessed week. And +see that you answer my letters every week, too."</p> + +<p>Sally felt comparatively cheerful once more. "I will," she answered, +smiling.</p> + +<p>"Bless your heart!" said Fox.</p> + +<p>Doctor Galen looked aggrieved.</p> + +<p>"And where do I come in?" he asked. "Aren't you going to promise to +write me, too? Your mother will be at my sanitarium and I have a good +mind to give orders that Fox Sanderson is to be told nothing about +her. Then you would have to get your information from me."</p> + +<p>"I didn't s'pose you'd care to have me, you're so busy." Sally was +pleased. "But I'd love to, Doctor, I'd love to. Do you really want me +to?"</p> + +<p>"If you don't, I'll never forgive you. I'm a very cruel man, and that +is the only way to insure good treatment for your mother. You'd +better, Sally." And the doctor wagged his head in a threatening +manner.</p> + +<p>Sally laughed. "It'll be your own fault if you get too many letters. +But you needn't answer them, if you don't have time."</p> + +<p>"We'll see. We'll see. I guess I shall manage to find a few minutes, +now and then, to write to Miss Sally Ladue."</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER XIII<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>It was September before Sally was ready to go to Whitby. Indeed, it +cannot be said that she was ready then, or that she ever would have +been ready, if her wishes only had been involved. But by the middle of +September she had done all the things that she had to do, her +belongings and Charlie's were packed in two small trunks, and there +did not seem to be any excuse for delaying her departure longer.</p> + +<p>She had gone, with Doctor Galen, one memorable day, to see the +sanitarium. He, I suppose, had thought that perhaps Sally would feel +better about going if she saw for herself just the way in which her +mother would be taken care of. So he took her all over the building, +himself acting as her guide, and she saw it all. She did feel better. +When she had seen the whole thing and had absorbed as much as the +doctor thought was good for her, they went into town again and had +lunch with Mrs. Galen. There weren't any children and there never had +been. So much the worse for the doctor and for Mrs. Galen. They had +missed the best thing in life, and they knew that they had and +regretted it. After lunch, the doctor went home with Sally. She +thought, with some wonder at it, that the doctor could not have had +much to do that day, for he had given the whole of it to her. There +were many of his patients who thought otherwise—a whole office full +of them; and they waited in vain for the doctor.</p> + +<p>A few days later Sally had bidden a last mournful farewell to all her +favorite haunts. She had been devoting her spare time for a week to +that melancholy but pleasant duty. The little lizard would never more +sit high in the branches of the coal trees and look out over the +prospect of treetops <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span>and swamp. Never again would the gynesaurus feed +on stove coal plucked, ripe, from the branches whereon it grew. Sally +laughed, in spite of her melancholy, as this thought passed through +her mind; and the gynesaurus stopped eating coal and incontinently +slid and scrambled down the tree, landing on the ground with a thump +which was more like that made by a little girl than that a lizard +would make. And she ran into the house in rather a cheerful frame of +mind. It was almost time for the man to come for their trunks.</p> + +<p>Fox met her as she came in. "It's a good chance to say good-bye to +your mother, Sally. She's wandering about in her room."</p> + +<p>All of Sally's cheerfulness vanished at that. She knew just how she +should find her mother: aimlessly wandering from one part of the room +to another, intending, always, to do something, and always forgetting +what it was she intended to do. But Sally found Charlie and, together, +they went to their mother.</p> + +<p>It was the same sweet, gentle voice that called to them to come in. It +was the same sweet, gentle woman who greeted them. But in her dull +eyes there was scarcely recognition. To Sally it was as though a thick +veil hung always before her mother, through which she could neither +see clearly nor be seen. Her processes of mind were as vague and as +crude as those of a baby. If she was better than she had been, how +very ill she must have been!</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ladue did not realize what Sally's good-bye meant. She was +utterly incapable of taking in the changes which were before Sally or +before herself. She returned Sally's good-bye impassively, as though +Sally were going no farther than downstairs; and when Charlie, +impatient and a little frightened, fretted and pulled at Sally's hand, +Mrs. Ladue did not seem to mind. It was as if Charlie were some +strange child, in whom she had no interest. Poor lady!</p> + +<p>"Why don't you take him away?" she asked. "He wants to go."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span>So Sally, choking with tenderness, took him away. She cried a little +on Fox's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"It seems to me that I can't bear it, Fox," she sobbed. "To see mother +so—is she really better?"</p> + +<p>"You know she is, Sally."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I s'pose I do." Sally's sobs gradually ceased. "But it's +terribly slow. She'll have forgotten us by the time she gets well."</p> + +<p>"No fear, Sally," Fox replied, with a gentle smile. "No fear of that. +Come, here's the man for our things."</p> + +<p>Fox was going with them. Sally dried her eyes while he went to see +about the trunks.</p> + +<p>As they walked out at the gate, Fox glanced at Sally. Her lips were +tightly shut and she did not look back once, but she kept her gaze +firmly fixed ahead, as if she were afraid of being turned into a +pillar of salt. Nobody knew how much determination it took for her to +do so. She would have liked to cry again and kiss every tree in the +place. But she wouldn't cry again. She just would not.</p> + +<p>Henrietta met them before they had gone far, and rattled on as though +she had been talking on a wager. Sally couldn't talk. And Henrietta +went to the station with them, still talking fast, and stayed with +Sally and Charlie while Fox checked the trunks. Then the train came +and Sally lingered at the door of the car.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, Sally," Henrietta called. "Perhaps I could come to visit +you if you asked me."</p> + +<p>"I will if I can," said Sally. "You know it won't be my house and I'm +afraid that Cousin Martha may not find it convenient. If it was my +house I'd ask you now."</p> + +<p>The train started. "Good-bye, Sally," Henrietta called again as she +ran along the platform; "I wish I were going with you."</p> + +<p>"I wish you were," Sally answered. "Oh, I do wish you were, Henrietta. +Good-bye."</p> + +<p>For Henrietta had come to the end of the platform and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span>had stopped. +The train was going almost too fast for her anyway.</p> + +<p>"You'd better come inside, Sally." And Fox drew her inside and shut +the door.</p> + +<p>Doctor Galen met the little party upon its arrival in the city. There +was nearly an hour before their train left for New York, and the +doctor suggested that they all have lunch together in the station. +Sally started to protest, for did they not have a package containing +cold chicken, hard-boiled eggs, and bread-and-butter? But the doctor +observed that he had never yet seen the time when a cold lunch did not +come in handy, and they might find use for it later; and, besides, he +had the lunch ordered and a table reserved. A feeling almost of +cheerfulness stole over Sally's spirits; and when, lunch over, they +were parting from the doctor at the steps of the car, Sally looked up +at him somewhat wistfully. He interpreted her look rightly, and bent +down.</p> + +<p>"Would you, Sally?" he asked. "And one for Mrs. Galen, too. Remember, +we haven't any children of our own."</p> + +<p>At that, Sally threw her arms around his neck and gave him two for +himself and two for Mrs. Galen. The doctor straightened again.</p> + +<p>"Bless you, Sally!" he said softly. "I wish you belonged to us. Don't +forget your promise."</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER XIV<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>It was very early, as the habits of the Ladue family went, when the +train pulled into the station at Whitby. For Professor Ladue had not +been an early riser. College professors of certain types are not noted +for their earliness. One of these types had been well represented by +Professor Ladue. He had not, to be sure, ever met his classes clad in +his evening clothes; but, no doubt, he would have done so, in time, if +his career had not been cut short.</p> + +<p>The train did not go beyond Whitby. One reason why it did not was that +there was nothing beyond but water and no stations of permanence. +There was plenty of time to get out of the train without feeling +hurried. Fox got out and helped Charlie down the steps; and Sally got +out, feeling as if she had already been up half the night. Indeed, she +had, almost, for she had been so afraid of oversleeping that she had +been only dozing since midnight.</p> + +<p>"I wonder, Fox," she said as she came down the steps, "whether there +will be any one here to meet us."</p> + +<p>"Cast your eye over the crowd," Fox whispered, "and if you see a thin, +haughty lady standing somewhat aloof from the common herd, I'll bet my +hat that's Martha."</p> + +<p>Sally chuckled involuntarily, and she cast her eye over the crowd as +Fox had told her to do. There <i>was</i> a lady, who seemed to be somewhat +haughty, standing back by the wall of the station, aloof from the +common herd, but she was not as thin as Sally had expected Cousin +Martha to be. This lady was evidently expecting somebody—or +somebodies—and was watching, with a shadow of anxiety on her face, as +the crowd poured out of the doors and flowed down the steps. Then her +gaze happened to alight upon Sally and her eyebrows lifted, quickly, +and she smiled. Sally smiled as <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span>quickly in return and made up her +mind, on the spot, that, if that was Cousin Martha, she should rather +like Cousin Martha.</p> + +<p>The lady had come forward at once, with a rapid, nervous walk, and met +them as soon as the crowd would let her.</p> + +<p>"Sarah Ladue?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Sally, Cousin Martha," Sally replied. "Everybody calls me Sally."</p> + +<p>"Well, I am very glad to see you, Sally." Cousin Martha kissed her on +the cheek; a quick, nervous peck. Sally tried to kiss Cousin Martha +while she had the chance, but she succeeded in getting no more than a +corner of a veil. "How did you know me?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't. I only saw that you were looking for somebody, and I +thought it might be me you were looking for."</p> + +<p>"Oh, so that was it!" Miss Hazen smiled faintly and sighed. "I thought +that perhaps you might have recognized me from the photograph I once +gave your father. But I forgot that that was a great many years ago." +She sighed again.</p> + +<p>Sally tried in vain to remember any photograph of Miss Martha Hazen. +She did remember something else.</p> + +<p>"This is Fox Sanderson," she said, holding on to Fox's arm, "who has +just come on to bring us. Fox is <i>very</i> kind. And here is Charlie."</p> + +<p>She dragged Charlie forward by the collar. He had been behind her, +absorbed in the movements of the engine.</p> + +<p>"Oh, what a pretty boy!" exclaimed Cousin Martha. "How do you do, +Charlie?"</p> + +<p>"Not a pretty boy!" cried Charlie.</p> + +<p>Sally shook him. "Say very well, I thank you," she whispered.</p> + +<p>"Very-well-I-thank-you," Charlie repeated sulkily. "I'm hungry."</p> + +<p>Miss Hazen laughed. "Mercy on us!" she said. "We must be getting home +to give you something to eat." She extended the tips of her fingers to +Fox. "I'm very glad to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span>see you, too, Mr. Sanderson. You will come +home with us, too? The carriage is waiting."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Miss Hazen. I must see about the trunks, I suppose; +Sally's and Charlie's. I didn't bring any, for I must go back +to-night."</p> + +<p>"Then, perhaps, you will spend the day with us?"</p> + +<p>Fox thanked her again and Cousin Martha told him what to do about the +trunks. There was one baggageman, in particular, whom the Hazens had +employed for years when there had been trunks to go or to come. That +that baggageman was now old and nearly as decrepit as his horse and +wagon made no difference.</p> + +<p>They were soon in Miss Hazen's stout carriage, behind a single stout +horse. Sally had not noticed, before, that the water was so near. They +went through some very dirty streets, past saloons and tenement-houses. +Miss Hazen regarded them sadly.</p> + +<p>"One gets a poor impression of Whitby from the entrance into it," she +observed. "This part of the city has changed very much since my young +days; changed much for the worse. It is a great pity that the railroad +does not come in at some different place. On the hill, now, one would +get a very different impression. But there are parts of the city which +have not changed so very much. Although," she added thoughtfully, "all +the change is for the worse, it seems to me."</p> + +<p>There did not seem to be anything to be said that would be of any +comfort. Fox murmured something, and then they drove up an +extraordinarily steep hill. The horse had all he could do to drag them +at a walk. But, looking up the hill, Sally saw a pleasant street with +elms arching over it.</p> + +<p>"Oh, how lovely!" she cried. "Do you live in this part of the city, +Cousin Martha?"</p> + +<p>"No," Cousin Martha replied, with rather more than a suspicion of +pride in her voice. "Where we live, it is prettier than this."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Sally. Then she recollected.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span>"There was a very nice man on the boat," she remarked. "He was some +sort of an officer, but I don't know exactly what. He said he lived in +Whitby, and he had several children. The youngest girl is about my +age. Do you know them, Cousin Martha? Their name is Wills."</p> + +<p>"Wills? Wills? I don't think I know any Willses."</p> + +<p>"He seemed to know who you were," Sally prompted. "He knew right away, +as soon as ever I told him where I was going."</p> + +<p>"It is likely enough," said Miss Hazen, trying to speak simply. The +attempt was not a conspicuous success. "Many people, whom we don't +know, know who we are. The Willses are very worthy people, I have no +doubt, but you are not likely to know them."</p> + +<p>"He said that, too," Sally observed.</p> + +<p>Miss Hazen looked as if she would have liked to commend Mr. Wills's +discrimination; but she did not and they continued their drive in +silence. The streets seemed all to be arched over with elms; all that +they drove through, at all events. Presently they reached the top of +the hill and turned into a street that was as crooked as it could be. +It turned this way and that and went, gently, uphill and down; but, +always, it seemed to be trying to keep on the top of the ridge. Sally +remarked upon it.</p> + +<p>"You might call this the Ridge Road," she said; "like Ridge Road in +Philadelphia. I have never been on the Ridge Road in Philadelphia," +she added hastily, fearing that Cousin Martha might think she was +pretending to be what she was not, "but I have always imagined that it +was something like this."</p> + +<p>Fox and Miss Hazen laughed. "Not much like it, Sally," said Fox.</p> + +<p>"Or," Sally resumed, "you might call it the Cow Path. It is crooked +enough to be one."</p> + +<p>"That is just what it used to be called," said Miss Hazen. "It was not +a very poetical name, but we liked it. They changed the name, some +years ago."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span>"What?" Sally asked. "What did they change it to?"</p> + +<p>"Washington Street," answered Cousin Martha plaintively. "It seemed to +us that it was not necessary to call it Washington Street. There is no +individuality in the name."</p> + +<p>Fox laughed again. "Not a great deal," he agreed.</p> + +<p>Miss Hazen smiled and sighed.</p> + +<p>"We cling to the old names," she continued. "We still call this +street, among ourselves, the Cow Path, and Parker Street is still West +India Lane, and Smith Street is Witch Lane. The old names are more +picturesque and romantic. There seemed to be no sufficient reason for +changing them. For us, they are not changed."</p> + +<p>Washington Street—the Cow Path, as Miss Hazen preferred to call +it—had upon it a great many handsome places. They were big houses, of +stone, for the most part, or covered with stucco, although a few of +them were of wood; and they were set well back from the street, behind +well-kept lawns with clumps of shrubbery or of trees scattered at +careful random. Sally did not see one of these old places with the +rather formal garden, with its box hedges, in front of the house, but +she saw a good many with gorgeous gardens at the side, and many with +the gardens, apparently, at the back.</p> + +<p>They were very different, these great places, from her own home. Her +own home might have occupied a whole square, as many of these did, if +it had been in a city. It was not in a city, but in what was scarcely +more than a village and the trees were where nature had set them. The +whole place—Sally's own place—had an atmosphere of wildness quite in +keeping with coal trees and sauri. These places, if they had had no +more care than the professor had been accustomed to give to his, would +have a pathetic air of abandon and desolation. What would a poor +little gynesaurus do here?</p> + +<p>They turned off of the Cow Path and Miss Hazen brightened perceptibly.</p> + +<p>"We are getting near home," she remarked. "Our house is on the next +corner."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span>"Oh, is it?" Sally asked. "What street is this?"</p> + +<p>"This is Box Elder and our house is on the corner of Apple Tree."</p> + +<p>Sally laughed. "How funny!" she said. "And what pretty names!"</p> + +<p>"We think they are pretty names. Now, here we are."</p> + +<p>They were just turning in between granite gateposts that were green +with dampness, and Sally looked up with a lively interest. She caught +a glimpse of a wooden front fence of three octagonal rails; but it was +only a glimpse, for the view was cut off, almost immediately, by the +row of great evergreens which stood just back of the fence. There were +two other evergreens in the middle of the plot of lawn, and the elms +on the streets stretched their branches far over, nearly to the house. +Altogether, it gave a depressing effect of gloom and decay, which the +aspect of the house itself did not tend to relieve.</p> + +<p>It was a wooden house, large and square, although not so large as +those on the Cow Path. It had a deeply recessed doorway with four +wooden columns extending up two stories to support the gable. The +house was not clap-boarded, but was smooth and sanded and its surface +was grooved to look like stone. It might once have been a fair +imitation of granite, but the time was in the distant past when the +old house would have fooled even the most casual observer. And it gave +them no welcome; nobody opened the door at their approach, or, at +least, nobody on the inside. The door did not open until Cousin Martha +opened it herself, disclosing a dark and gloomy interior.</p> + +<p>"Come in, Sally," she said; "and you, too, Mr. Sanderson, if you +please. If you will wait in the parlor for a moment, I will see about +some breakfast for you. I have no doubt you are both hungry as well as +Charlie. We have had our breakfast."</p> + +<p>Sally wondered who the "we" might be. It had not occurred to her until +that moment that there might be somebody else in that great gloomy +house besides Cousin Martha.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span>"Sally," cried Charlie fretfully as they entered the dark parlor. "I +want to go home. I want to go to my own home, Sally."</p> + +<p>"Hush, Charlie," said Sally. "This is our home now. Hush. Cousin +Martha may hear you."</p> + +<p>Charlie would not hush. He was tired and hungry, although they had had +an apology for a breakfast, the remains of their cold lunch, before +six o'clock.</p> + +<p>"Isn't my home. This old house isn't—"</p> + +<p>The words died on his lips; for there was a sound behind the +half-opened folding-doors at the end of the long room, and an old man +appeared there. He seemed to Sally to be a very old man. He had a long +white beard and stooped slightly as he made his way slowly toward +them.</p> + +<p>"Is this Sarah Ladue?" he asked as he came forward. He came near Sally +and held out his hand.</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," answered Sally doubtfully, laying her hand in his. "It's +Sally."</p> + +<p>The old man must have detected the doubt. "Well, Sally," he said +kindly, "I am your father's uncle, your Cousin Patty's father." So +Cousin Martha and Cousin Patty were one.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" returned Sally quickly. "I thought—that is, I'm very glad to +see you."</p> + +<p>The old gentleman smiled quietly. "And I'm very glad to see you. Don't +you want to come into the back parlor? There's a fire in there. You, +too, sir," turning to Fox.</p> + +<p>"I forgot," interrupted Sally. "I am always forgetting to do it. This +is Mr. Sanderson. He is a <i>very</i> kind friend of ours. He came all the +way with us just to see that we got here safely. And this is Charlie, +sir."</p> + +<p>"I am happy to meet a very kind friend of Sally's," the old gentleman +said, shaking hands with Fox. "From what I hear, she is in need of +kind friends." He held his hand out to Charlie. "Will this little boy +shake hands with his Uncle John?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span>That appeared to be the last thing that Charlie wished to do, but he +did it, sulkily, without a word. Then the old gentleman led the way +slowly into the back parlor.</p> + +<p>Sally remembered, now, that she had heard her father speak of John +Hazen—John Hazen, Junior—with that sneering laugh of his; that cold, +mirthless laugh with which he managed to cast ridicule upon anything +or anybody. This nice old gentleman must be John Hazen, Junior. But +why should a stooping old man with a long white beard be called +Junior? Why, on earth, Sally wondered. Surely, such an old man—she +would speak to Cousin Martha about it. Perhaps Cousin Martha had a +brother who was John, Junior. As for Cousin Martha's father, she had +always taken it for granted that he was a disembodied spirit.</p> + +<p>There was a coal fire bubbling in the grate in the back parlor. A +great easy-chair was drawn up to the fire, and beside it, on the +floor, lay the morning paper, where Uncle John had dropped it. There +were other easy-chairs in the room, and books and magazines were +scattered over the centre table. The centre table had a much-stained +green cloth top, Sally noticed. Altogether, this room was cheerful, in +its own way, as any room which is lived in must be; as the great front +parlor was not. Its way was not the way Sally had been used to. It was +too dark, to begin with, and the heavy curtains only half drawn back +from the windows kept out most of the light which managed to straggle +past the trees.</p> + +<p>The old gentleman began to place other chairs, but Fox did it for him.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," he said. "And now, as soon as Patty comes back, I shall +have to leave you, if you will excuse me. I usually go downtown +earlier than this, but I wished to see Sally before I went. I hope you +will make yourselves quite at home."</p> + +<p>Consideration of just this kind was a new thing for Sally.</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you," she cried, flushing with pleasure. "It was very nice +of you to want to wait for me."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span>The old gentleman again smiled his quiet smile; but before he could +say anything, Cousin Martha came in.</p> + +<p>"I have some breakfast for you," she announced. "Will you go to your +rooms first, or have something to eat first?"</p> + +<p>There was no room for doubt as to Charlie's preference in the matter. +Miss Hazen smiled.</p> + +<p>"Very well, then," she said. "I think that will be better. Have your +breakfast while it is hot. Then I can take you up and get you settled. +The trunks will have got here by that time."</p> + +<p>"I will go now, Patty," said her father, "if you will be good enough +to help me with my overcoat."</p> + +<p>So she stopped in the hall and held his coat and he bade good-bye to +every one by name, and went out slowly.</p> + +<p>"Does Uncle John go downtown every day?" Sally asked, soon after. She +was busy with her breakfast.</p> + +<p>"Oh, mercy, yes," Miss Hazen replied. "He is as well able to attend to +his business as ever. And he always walks, unless it is very bad +walking: icy or very muddy. I am afraid that he might slip and fall, +and old bones, you know, do not mend easily."</p> + +<p>"Is he—is he," Sally went on, hesitating, "John Hazen, Junior?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," answered Cousin Martha. "He has kept the Junior."</p> + +<p>Sally did not know just what she meant by that. "I've heard my father +speak of John Hazen, Junior," she remarked, "and I didn't know but, +perhaps, I might have a Cousin John."</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span><br /> +<a name="BOOK_II" id="BOOK_II"></a><a name="CHAPTER_I2" id="CHAPTER_I2"></a><hr /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span><br /> + +<h2>BOOK II</h2> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span><br /> +<hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER I<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>Sally was tolerably happy after she got settled. She had cried a few +tears into Fox's coat when he was going away and she had sent many +messages to Henrietta and to Doctor Galen and to her mother, although +she knew that her mother would receive them with her pitiful, vacant +smile and would go on wondering where Sally was. She had been told, of +course, over and over, but could not seem to grasp the reason or, +indeed, the fact.</p> + +<p>Sally had wiped her eyes and sighed. "I'm not going to cry any more," +she had said; "and I shan't be unhappy, Fox. I just won't be."</p> + +<p>"You've had a good deal to make you unhappy, Sally," Fox had replied +gently, "but I do hope that you won't be. You can trust Doctor Galen +to do the very best for your mother."</p> + +<p>"Yes," Sally had returned, smiling; "you and Doctor Galen. You forgot, +Fox. And I'm glad that father has gone away. I'm glad—glad," Sally +cried passionately. "He didn't do a thing for mother. He only liked to +make her feel bad. She'd have died if he'd stayed. And I hope you'll +never find him. I hope you never will."</p> + +<p>"We're not breaking our necks, trying."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad of it. Oh, Fox, I've never said such a thing before, and I +never will again. But I just had to or I should have burst. Don't you +tell, will you? Don't ever tell <i>anybody</i>."</p> + +<p>Fox had promised and had kissed her and had started back, feeling +comforted. It was very much better than he had expected, and Sally had +made up her mind. There was everything in that.</p> + +<p>Sally woke early the next morning. It was not quite <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span>light, if it ever +could be said to be quite light in that house. But a little light had +begun to filter in around the curtains, and Sally looked about the +great, dim room, wondering for a moment where she was. Then she +remembered; she remembered, too, that Uncle John had breakfast early. +Cousin Martha had forgotten to tell her at what time to get up, but +there could be no harm in getting up now. Charlie had a little room +off her own big one, probably the dressing-room. At that instant +Charlie appeared, wandering hesitatingly, clad only in his little +pajamas, which had caused some surprise on Cousin Martha's part.</p> + +<p>"Oh, how very cunning!" she had exclaimed, as Sally unpacked them.</p> + +<p>Now Charlie made a dive for Sally's bed. "I want to get in with you, +Sally."</p> + +<p>But Sally thought that they had better get dressed, and said so. When +Sally said things in that way, there was no appeal, and Charlie +submitted, with not more objection than would have been expected, to a +rapid sponge; for it had not occurred to Sally, the night before, to +find out about a bathtub. It might very well be that the house had +been built before the era of bathtubs and that no such useless +encumbrance had been added. Cousin Martha herself solved that +difficulty for her. There was a gentle tap at her door.</p> + +<p>"Sally," called Cousin Martha's voice, "here is your hot water. Do you +know about the tub?"</p> + +<p>"No," answered Sally, opening the door; "Charlie's had his bath, +Cousin Martha, as good a one as I could give him, but I haven't."</p> + +<p>"You didn't splash water over the floor, did you?" Cousin Martha asked +anxiously, scrutinizing the floor for any signs of wetting.</p> + +<p>"I tried not to," Sally replied. "It's hardly light enough to make +sure."</p> + +<p>Miss Hazen had disappeared into Charlie's room and now reappeared +bringing a tub. It was a large shallow pan, a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span>sort of glorified milk +pan, and might have been made of cast iron, judging from the way Miss +Hazen carried it. It was not of cast iron, but of tin; the kind of tin +that cannot be got in these days, even for love.</p> + +<p>"There!" said she, setting it down.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Cousin Martha. It will be nice to have that. But you don't +need to bring us hot water. We don't use it."</p> + +<p>"Why, Sally!" Cousin Martha cried in a horrified voice. "You don't +bathe in cold water!" Sally nodded. "Not tempered at all?"</p> + +<p>"Just cold water," Sally responded.</p> + +<p>"But it will be very cold, later on," remonstrated Cousin Martha. "The +water sometimes freezes in the pitcher."</p> + +<p>Sally chuckled. "Long as it doesn't freeze solid it's all right. I +like it very cold. It prickles and stings me all over. We like it +cold, don't we, Charlie?"</p> + +<p>Charlie grunted. He did not seem enthusiastic. Miss Hazen sighed as +she shut the door.</p> + +<p>Breakfast was over, Uncle John had gone, and things had pretty well +settled down for the day, and it still seemed very early to Sally. She +and Charlie wandered in the yard before eight o'clock. That yard +seemed very restricted. In the first place, it was bounded on every +side except the front by a high wooden fence. The top of the fence was +just about level with the top of Sally's head, so that she couldn't +see over it without jumping up or climbing on something. Sally had +thought of climbing, of course; but, first, she had to get Charlie +acquainted with the yard, so that he would stay down contentedly. +Charlie had not yet developed any particular aptitude for climbing +trees.</p> + +<p>They wandered to the stable, which was at the back of the house, a +little to one side, and opened directly upon Box Elder Street. Here +they found the man attending to his duties about the stout horse. That +man paid but little attention to the children, but continued his work +in a leisurely manner. No doubt this was praiseworthy on his part, but +it was not what the children had hoped for, and they <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span>soon wandered +out again and went towards the back of the yard. Here was a vegetable +garden on one side and a flower garden on the other, together +stretching across from Box Elder Street to a little street that was +scarcely more than a lane. Sally had been in Whitby a long time before +she found that this was Hazen's Lane. It was most natural to speak of +it as "The Lane," and "The Lane" it was.</p> + +<p>Back of the two gardens was another high wooden fence; and behind the +fence was a row of maples bordering a street. Sally knew it was a +street because she could see, over the top of the fence, the fronts of +two houses on the other side of it.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear!" she sighed. "There doesn't seem to be anything very +interesting here, does there, Charlie? You can't even see farther than +across the street. I suppose Cousin Martha wouldn't like it if we +should dig, for there isn't any place to dig but the garden."</p> + +<p>Charlie began to whimper.</p> + +<p>At this moment there came a thump on the fence at the corner of the +Lane. The thumping continued, in a rhythmical manner, as if it were in +time with somebody's walking, and progressed slowly along the Lane. +Presently there was a double thump at each step, and Sally saw two +cloth caps, exactly alike, bobbing up and down, almost disappearing +behind the fence at each downward bob.</p> + +<p>"It looks like twins," she said.</p> + +<p>"Follow 'em along," said Charlie, in some excitement. "Come on, +Sally."</p> + +<p>So they followed 'em along until the twin caps had got almost opposite +the house. Then two shrill voices broke into sudden song.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Monkey married the baboon's sister,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Smacked his lips and then he kissed 'er;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kissed so hard he—"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Sally had jumped up on the stringer of the fence, just where the caps +would be at the next step. "It is, Charlie!" she cried.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span>The owners of the two caps had jumped away with an alacrity born of +experience, and had started to run. They looked back and stopped.</p> + +<p>"Hello!" they cried, together, in surprise. "Is wh—wh—what, +Ch—Ch—Charlie?"</p> + +<p>"Twins," Sally answered in triumph; "aren't you?"</p> + +<p>The twins nodded. "C—c—course we are," said one. +"Any—any—any—b—ody know that."</p> + +<p>"Wh—wh—what's your n—n—name?" asked the other.</p> + +<p>"And wh—wh—who's Ch—Ch—Charlie?"</p> + +<p>"My name is Sally Ladue," replied Sally, "and Charlie's my brother." +Charlie popped his head above the fence. "We've come," she continued, +thinking that she might save the twins the painful process of speech, +"we've come to live here."</p> + +<p>"W—w—with P—P—Patty H.?" asked one of the twins, in a hoarse +whisper.</p> + +<p>It was impossible for any one who was not very familiar with them to +tell whether it was the same twin who had spoken last or the other +one; and Sally had taken her eyes off them when she spoke of Charlie.</p> + +<p>"With Uncle John and Cousin Martha," she answered. "I've never called +her Patty H. and I don't think it's very respectful."</p> + +<p>The twins grinned. "W—w—we c—c—call her P—P—Patty H. +be—be—bec—c—cause it's h—h—hard to s—s—say +Haa—Ha—Ha—Ha—<i>Hav</i>ering."</p> + +<p>Sally had hard work to suppress her chuckles. The other twin made no +effort to suppress his; he laughed heartlessly.</p> + +<p>His brother turned upon him. "Sh—sh—shut up, you b—b—bum, you! You +c—c—couldn't s—s—say it."</p> + +<p>Sally essayed to be peacemaker. "You know," she said hesitatingly, +"that you are so much alike that I can't tell you apart. You're just +like Tweedledum and Tweedledee, and you seem to quarrel just the same +as they did. Now, you're Tweedledum," she went on, pointing at one, +and then at the other, "and you're Tweedledee. If Dum would wear <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span>a +red ribbon in his buttonhole and Dee would wear a blue one, I should +know. It's very convenient to know."</p> + +<p>The idea of wearing ribbons in their buttonholes did not seem to +strike the twins favorably. They shook their heads.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Sally hastily, "there's another thing: you were thumping +on the fence and singing—"</p> + +<p>"We c—c—can s—s—sing all right when we c—c—can't t—t—talk. +S—some d—days are go—g—good for t—talking and s—some are +b—b—bad. Th—this is a b—bad d—day."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I suppose so. But what I was going to say was this: you were +singing something that may have been meant to plague Cousin Martha. I +want you to promise not to try to plague her. You will promise, won't +you?"</p> + +<p>The twins grinned again and promised with evident reluctance.</p> + +<p>"You g—going to our s—s—school?" inquired Dum suddenly.</p> + +<p>"I don't know about schools," Sally replied. "I suppose I'm going to +some school, and Charlie, too."</p> + +<p>"Ours," Dum began; but at the mention of school Dee started.</p> + +<p>"G—g—gee!" he exclaimed. "We g—g—got to h—h—hurry or we'll be +l—late. C—c—come on."</p> + +<p>The twins were gone. Sally and Charlie got down from the fence.</p> + +<p>"They were a funny pair, weren't they, Charlie?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, they were. Now, Sally," Charlie went on dismally, "what you +goin' to do?"</p> + +<p>Sally sighed. It was not nine o'clock and Charlie was in the dumps +already. She looked around and there was Miss Hazen just coming out of +the front door.</p> + +<p>"There's Cousin Martha, Charlie. Let's go and meet her."</p> + +<p>Charlie was not in a state to be enthusiastic about anything, +certainly not about Cousin Martha. He didn't care; <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span>but he went, in a +condition of dismal melancholy that touched her.</p> + +<p>"Homesick, poor child!" she murmured. "Charlie," she said aloud, "I am +going downtown in the carriage, to do some errands. Don't you want to +go? You and Sally?"</p> + +<p>Charlie thereupon brightened perceptibly. "I'll go if you want me to."</p> + +<p>Cousin Martha smiled and turned to Sally, who accepted. "Although," +she said, "I want to write a letter. But I suppose there'll be plenty +of time after we get back. We've just been talking with the funniest +pair of twins. They stutter."</p> + +<p>Miss Hazen sighed. "I know. I heard them banging on the fence. They +are the Carling twins. Their names are Henry and Horace."</p> + +<p>"Harry and Horry," cried Sally. "But which is older?"</p> + +<p>"Mercy! I don't know," Cousin Martha answered. "I can't tell them +apart. One is just as bad as the other."</p> + +<p>"I've an idea," Sally remarked, "that they aren't going to be so bad."</p> + +<p>Cousin Martha looked curiously at Sally, but she said nothing and just +then the carriage came.</p> + +<p>Miss Hazen seemed to find especial delight in Charlie's society on +that drive. She talked to him more and more while she went to do her +errands. Charlie, on the whole, was not an especially attractive +child. He was a handsome boy, but he was apt to be dissatisfied and +discontented, which gave his face the kind of expression which such a +disposition always gives. He seemed to be developing some of the +characteristics of his father. Not that Sally was aware of the +characteristics Charlie was developing. Charlie was Charlie, that was +all. She saw too much of him—had had the care of him too +continuously—to realize the little resemblances which might be +evident to one who had less to do with him. It is not unlikely that +Miss Hazen realized those resemblances, although she may not have been +conscious of it, and that it was just that which was endearing him to +her.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span>Whatever the reason, Cousin Martha got to taking him with her at every +opportunity. Charlie was in school every morning, for one of Miss +Hazen's errands, on that first day, had been to arrange for school for +both Sally and Charlie. Charlie, being at school every morning except +Saturday, could not accompany Cousin Martha on her drives in the +mornings. Consequently, Cousin Martha changed her habit of more than +twenty years' standing and drove in the afternoon. Her father smiled +when he heard of it and looked from Charlie to Sally.</p> + +<p>"I know of no reason, Patty," he observed quietly, "why the afternoon +is not as good a time for driving as the morning. Doesn't this little +girl go?"</p> + +<p>"Not very often, Uncle John," Sally replied, smiling up at him. +"I'm—I'm very busy, and—and I'd rather go anywhere on my own feet."</p> + +<p>He patted her head and smiled. He liked to go anywhere on his own +feet, too.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_II2" id="CHAPTER_II2"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER II<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>It was a blustery Saturday toward the last of March. Sally had written +her letter to Fox and one to Doctor Galen, more to take up time than +because she had anything to say that she thought was worth saying; but +the kind doctor seemed to like to get her rather infrequent letters, +and he always answered them, although his answers were rather short. +But what could she expect of a doctor who was as busy as Doctor Galen? +Not much, truly. Cousin Martha had told her so. Perhaps I had better +call her Patty. Everybody called her Patty or Miss Patty. Even Sally +had fallen into that habit. Miss Patty may have preferred it or she +may not have; her preference did not seem to matter. As I was saying, +Cousin Patty had told her so, and had intended the telling, it seemed +to Sally, rather as a rebuke. Now, Sally did not know why she should +be rebuked,—for her conscience was clear. But the fame of Doctor +Galen had gone forth in the land and Cousin Patty considered it a +great honor that any one of her family connections was under his care. +Hence her seeming rebuke.</p> + +<p>Sally had finished her letter to the doctor and it was only half-past +eight. She sighed as the hall clock—which, by the way, was in the +back parlor—struck the half-hour, solemnly, as if it were aware of +the importance of its office. That tall clock did its whole duty +conscientiously—with Uncle John's help. Sally sat gazing at the clock +and meditating. It was no less than astonishing, when you came to +think of it, what a lot of things in that house depended upon Uncle +John's help. He never made a show of giving it, but a quiet word here +and a calm smile there did wonders. He was a regulator, that was what +he was; a sort of a pendulum, to make things go right. Sally had +become very fond of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span>Uncle John. Cousin Patty—well—she seemed to +need a regulator, not to put it any more strongly. Sally smiled as the +idea crossed her mind, and she took the end of the pen-holder from its +place between her teeth and returned to the perusal of her letter.</p> + +<p>Sally always read over her letters, and, having read this one over, +she added a postscript telling the doctor—a very private joke between +him and her—of Cousin Patty's rebuke. She knew that he would be +amused. When she had the doctor's letter sealed, she looked up again +at the clock.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear!" she murmured; "it must have stopped." She knew very well +that the clock would not be guilty of such misbehavior as long as it +had Uncle John's help. "I'll write to Henrietta."</p> + +<p>To tell the truth, Sally had not missed Henrietta one half as much as +she had missed Fox, but if she did not write her very often it was +simply because she forgot it. When she remembered, she was always very +sorry and wrote frequently, until she forgot again. Sally's letters to +Henrietta came in bunches, with intervals of a month or more between +the bunches.</p> + +<p>She had not got very far on this one when Uncle John came in. He was +very late that morning.</p> + +<p>"Sally," he said, "they are flying kites in the Lot. You may like to +see them."</p> + +<p>For, as I said at the beginning, before I was led off into this +digression, it was a blustery Saturday in March.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" Sally cried, pushing back her chair. "Are they? Do you mind, +Uncle John, if I climb a tree on that side? You can't see over the +wall, you know."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hazen smiled quietly. "Climb any tree you like," he replied. "You +will be careful, Sally, I know; careful of yourself and of the trees. +But where is Charlie?"</p> + +<p>"Cousin Patty is getting him ready to go out with her." Sally was +pretty well relieved of the care of Charlie by this time. "I'll finish +this letter when I come in."</p> + +<p>She jumped up, snatched up her hood and her coat and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span>slipped her hand +into Uncle John's and they went out together. They parted at the foot +of the steps and Mr. Hazen walked slowly downtown, smiling to himself +in a satisfied way.</p> + +<p>Just across Box Elder Street was a high wall. It seemed to Sally to be +at least twenty feet high; and the builder of that wall had added +insult to injury by cementing it smoothly on the outside—Sally had +never seen the inside of it—and by capping it with a smooth and +projecting wooden roof. The wooden roof was no longer smooth, but +warped with the sun and the rains of many years, and the mouldings on +the under edges were coming away in places. But the wall was still +absolutely unclimbable, although it was possible to see over it from +the upper windows of the house or from the evergreens which surrounded +it. Sally preferred the evergreens. To be sure, their heavy branches +somewhat interfered with the view, but, at least, they were trees and +they were out of doors.</p> + +<p>When Sally had found a comfortable perch in a spruce, she looked over +into the Lot. The Lot was a relic of the past; of twenty-five or +thirty years past. Its latest useful service had been, according to +internal evidence, as a cornfield. The boys, running across it with +their kites, were sure of this, for the hills were still there and +made running on it a work of art, especially if there was a kite at +the end of a string to need their attention. Indeed, perhaps I was +wrong in putting the flying of kites in the class of useless service. +At any rate, that was the only use to which Morton's lot had been put +for many years. It was called "The Lot." There was no danger of +ambiguity in so speaking of it, any more than there was in speaking of +Hazen's Lane as "The Lane." No one would have any doubt at all—no one +in Sally's set, at least—as to what was referred to, in either case.</p> + +<p>Sally looked out as she best could between the branches of her spruce. +She couldn't see much, only a little piece of the field at each +opening. It was very unsatisfactory. She <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span>saw five or six boys, two of +them large boys, bending over something which lay upon the ground. +Presently the group divided and the boys stood up; and she saw that +what they had been working on was a huge kite of the old-fashioned +six-sided kind. She saw, too, that the big boys were Everett Morton +and Dick Torrington. At that moment the familiar figures of the +Carling twins slipped through a break in the high picket fence from +the other street. Immediately, Sally scrambled out of the spruce and +ran up Box Elder Street. She had a heightened color, but that might +have been due to the exertion of scrambling. It might not have been +due to the exertion of scrambling. Scrambling was no unusual exertion +for Sally.</p> + +<p>Sally's rapid change of base was not because of the restricted view +from the tree, although her view was restricted. And it was not +because of the Carlings. The Carlings were her devoted slaves; but +that fact was an annoyance to her rather than a gratification, and it +is conceivable that the presence of the Carlings might have had weight +in inducing her to put up with the inconveniences of a restricted +view. The object of interest must therefore have been either Everett +or Dick or the kite.</p> + +<p>At her school Sally was in the fifth class. They did not have forms or +grades at that school. Grades are mysterious things which seem to run +the wrong way, with no particular point of beginning and no particular +ending. A man might be in the fiftieth grade if there were any +teachers for it. There seems to be nothing to prevent. But when a boy +graduates from the first class, there is a point that brings you up +short. Something vital must happen then; and the thing that happens is +that the boy either goes to college or goes to work, for it is out of +the question to go any farther in that school. You know it without +being told.</p> + +<p>The boys in Sally's school usually went to college when they graduated +from the first class. They were well prepared for it. Everett and Dick +were in the first class and they would go away to college in the fall, +or, at least, they <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span>hoped that they would. There was some doubt about +it, for Dick was rather dull and plodding and Everett was neither dull +nor plodding. They were four years ahead of Sally. I cannot tell why +she had chosen those two to look up to. It is doubtful whether she +could have shown adequate cause either, always supposing that she +would have been willing to acknowledge the fact.</p> + +<p>Dick was the type of the nice English boy. Sally had never seen an +English boy or an English man in her whole life; but that did not +prevent her from forming an ideal of the type, to which Dick measured +up in every particular. He had light hair and that curious brunette +coloring that sometimes goes with it; he was invariably pleasant and +polite and deliberate in his speech; and he was generally well +dressed. Sally was particular about that, almost finicky. If Dick had +shown a tendency to overdressing—but he didn't. He had an air of +distinction. He also had a sister, Emily, who was in the second class +at school. Sally thought that Emily Torrington was the most beautiful +girl she had ever seen. She could not imagine any girl more beautiful.</p> + +<p>Everett was a great contrast to Dick in every respect. He had no +sister. Everett was an only child and his family was very rich, so +that he was in great danger of being spoiled. Not that it made any +difference to Sally whether he was rich or not. And Everett was +handsome, in quite a different way from Dick, and brilliant and +dashing. In short, he was fascinating. Many others than Sally had +found him so. It was quite likely that a woman would be more +permanently happy and contented with Dick than with Everett. I do not +mean to imply that Sally had ever indulged in any such reflection. She +may have and she may not have; but he fascinated her, as he had +fascinated those others of whom I spoke. He didn't know it. Everett +Morton had never spoken to Sally. He had never even noticed her. Dick +had in his good-natured, pleasant way, but Dick was always polite. +Everett was not—always.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span>So Sally's heart was beating a little rapidly when she pushed through +the break in the fence. But she had been running, you remember, for a +square and a half.</p> + +<p>The big kite was up on end, with one of the smaller boys holding it. +It was a huge kite, nearly twice the height of the boy that held it +and the top of it was a good foot above Everett's head as he stood in +front of it; so big that they had a rope to fly it with, and the end +of the rope was tied around Everett's waist. The smaller boys, of +course, were clustered about the kite, the Carlings among them. Then +Dick and Everett took the rope in their hands, called to the boy to +let go, and began to run; and the kite rose, evenly at first, then +twitching viciously from side to side. Then it hesitated for an +instant, as the tail, dragging on the ground, caught around the legs +of one of the Carlings. Sally had not yet become able to tell them +apart, at any distance. She saw him struggle, go down with his feet in +the air and with the tail of the kite still wrapped around them. She +saw the other twin precipitate himself upon the fallen one, try vainly +to undo the tail, then busy himself with one of his brother's shoes. +The kite suddenly soared, bearing aloft, tied firmly into its tail, a +shoe.</p> + +<p>The twins remained upon the ground, one pounding the other. Sally +thought that the pounded one had already had punishment enough and she +ran toward them.</p> + +<p>"You j—jay!" cried the upper twin to the under twin, as she came +near. "You b—b—bum, you! D—don't you kn—know any b—b—better 'n +t—to g—get c—c—caught th—that way? You—"</p> + +<p>"Sh—sh—shut up," yelled the under twin, struggling wildly, +"y—y—you r—r—rotten old b—beat! L—l—lemmeup!"</p> + +<p>"Here," said Sally, imperatively, "let him up. Stop pounding him."</p> + +<p>Harry stopped his pounding of Horry and both of the twins looked up, +Harry with a sheepish grin and Horry with an expression of the most +profound relief.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span>"S—S—Sally!" they began, in unison. "Oh, I ain't h—h—hurtin' 'im," +continued Harry. "Oh, h—h—he ain't h—h—hurtin' m—me," said Horry.</p> + +<p>Sally laughed. "Well," she said, "you'll get up." She took Harry by +the shoulder. "It's positively disgraceful the way you brothers +fight."</p> + +<p>Harry got up slowly. "B—b—brothers always f—f—fight," he said +apologetically, "if th—th—they're an—an—any—wh—where ne—n—near +th—the s—s—same s—size. H—H—Horry 'n-n' I are j—just th—the +s—s—same s—s—size. B—b—but I n—n—never h—hurt 'im," he added +magnanimously.</p> + +<p>Horry had got up, and was standing on one leg, with his stockinged +foot against his other knee. He made Sally think of a belligerent +stork.</p> + +<p>"Y—yer c—c—couldn't, th—that's wh—why," he yelled. Then, sticking +his head forward until his face was almost touching his brother's, he +vented his scorn in a single yell. "Y—a—ah!"</p> + +<p>This was too much for Harry's imitation of goodness, and he gave chase +at once. Horry, handicapped by the loss of one shoe, which was now +almost out of sight, had made but two jumps when Harry caught him. +They clinched and went down in a heap. Sally couldn't tell whether the +stockinged foot belonged to the under or the upper twin. She laughed +again. They seemed to prefer to fight anyway, so why not let them?</p> + +<p>The kite was now up as far as it could go. The rope was all out, and +Everett was holding to a post of the fence. Dick came running over the +field toward the prostrate twins.</p> + +<p>"Here, you twins!" he called. "Stop your fighting. Get up!"</p> + +<p>He seized the upper twin, jerked him to his feet and gave him a shake. +It proved to be Horry.</p> + +<p>"L—l—lemme 'l—l—lone!" cried Horry. "I ain't d—doin' +an—an—yth—thing to y—you. Wh—wh—where's m—m—my sh—shoe? +G—g—gimme m—my sh—shoe."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span>Harry scrambled to his feet. "Y—you l—l—let m—m—my b—brother +al—l—lone, D—Dick. P—pitch in, H—H—Horry."</p> + +<p>Accordingly they both pitched in. Dick had his hands full for a +minute. Sally ran up.</p> + +<p>"Everett is calling you."</p> + +<p>"Pugnacious little beggars!" said Dick.</p> + +<p>He knocked their heads together, gently, and ran off, leaving the +twins with blazing eyes, looking after him. They began to splutter.</p> + +<p>"It's all entirely your own fault," Sally began hastily, "and you know +it. Look at the kite."</p> + +<p>The kite was pitching in the gusty wind. The tail was not long enough +nor the rope either. Occasionally it would dive head down, but Everett +always managed to check it, and it rose again, twitching from side to +side.</p> + +<p>"M—m—my sh—shoe!" Horry cried, after one of the dives. He started +off over the field. "I'm g—g—goin' t—to g—g—get it."</p> + +<p>The kite dived again, straight down. Horry was almost under it, the +sight of his shoe, not more than a hundred feet above his head, making +him reckless—if anything was needed to make him so.</p> + +<p>"Horry!" Sally called anxiously. "Come away. You'll get hurt."</p> + +<p>But he showed no disposition to come away. He followed the kite, +keeping just under it, his arms upraised. Sally ran towards him; and +at that moment Everett succeeded in checking the downward dive of the +great kite, which rose slowly, tugging and twitching at its rope +viciously. It was like a live thing compelled to go up against its +will and determined to come down. It was pretty low now and it seemed +likely that the kite would have its way.</p> + +<p>Dick seemed to think so. "It's no use, Ev," he said. "Better let it +down easy and we'll put on more ballast."</p> + +<p>Everett gritted his teeth and made no reply. If any kite <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span>was to get +the better of him, it would have to fight for it. He wouldn't give in.</p> + +<p>"You'll have it smashed up," Dick warned him quietly.</p> + +<p>As he spoke, the kite gave two violent pitches and dived once more. +Even Everett could not stop it and it came down like lightning, +straight at Horry Carling. Sally saw it and so did Horry. Horry seemed +to be paralyzed; and Sally precipitated herself upon him, bearing him +to the ground, but a little away from the kite. The next instant the +heavy kite struck the ground with great force and two of its sticks +broke. It had struck Sally on her outstretched left foot and may have +broken something more than kite sticks.</p> + +<p>The broken kite fell over upon Sally and Horry. Horry began to +struggle.</p> + +<p>"L—l—lemme g—g—get out," he yelled.</p> + +<p>"Keep still!" said Sally. "I'll get up and then—oh!" Sally was +already part way up. There was a terrible pain in her left leg. She +felt dizzy. "I—I think—I'll lie down," she murmured; and she +fainted.</p> + +<p>Sally opened her eyes presently, and smiled vaguely. The kite was +gone, she was lying upon her back and Everett and Dick were bending +over her, while the Carlings and the other small boys gazed in +awe-struck silence.</p> + +<p>"Where's the kite?" Sally asked weakly. She was not quite herself yet.</p> + +<p>"Never mind about the kite, Sally," Dick answered; "it's broken and +I'm glad of it. Where did it hit you?"</p> + +<p>"I've a pain in my left leg," said Sally. "It's a pretty hard pain."</p> + +<p>Her lips were white as she spoke, and she pressed them together to +stop their quivering. She did not mean to cry.</p> + +<p>"We'll carry you in," said Dick.</p> + +<p>So he and Everett made a chair by crossing their hands, each hand +clasping one of the other boy's. Then they stooped down and Sally +managed to sit upon their clasped hands. It was the first time that +she had seen this device.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span>"I'm afraid I shall fall off," she said. "Do you mind if I hold on to +you?"</p> + +<p>Dick laughed quietly. "Put your arms round our necks and you won't +fall. It's as easy as a cradle."</p> + +<p>Sally's color was quite restored and she was conscious of no pain as +she made a triumphal progress along Box Elder Street with one arm +about Dick's neck and the other about Everett's. The Carling twins +followed closely, Horry absent-mindedly carrying his shoe in his hand, +and the other boys came after.</p> + +<p>As Dick and Everett started to carry her upstairs, it was the happiest +moment that Sally had ever known.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_III2" id="CHAPTER_III2"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER III<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>Cousin Patty was in Sally's room. Cousin Patty was not, as it chanced, +fully dressed.</p> + +<p>"Well, Sally," she said, going towards the door, "I must go. It's +almost time for the doctor." She paused an instant, then went on +plaintively. "He hasn't been here, except professionally, for a long +time—some years. But there was a time when he came often." Miss Hazen +sighed involuntarily.</p> + +<p>The sigh was long and quivering and it interested Sally. "Oh, Cousin +Patty," she said eagerly, "will you tell me about it—about that time, +I mean?"</p> + +<p>Cousin Patty looked at Sally with the soft light of reminiscence in +her eyes. "Oh, well," she replied, with affected carelessness and +laughing lightly, "perhaps I will, if you are really interested to +hear about it. Now I must go, but I'll be back in a few minutes."</p> + +<p>She went out and shut the door; and Sally heard a muffled shriek and +Cousin Patty's door slammed. An instant later, her own door opened and +Doctor Beatty appeared. He was smiling.</p> + +<p>"Nearly scared Patty into a fit," he said. "She ought to know my +habits by this time."</p> + +<p>Miss Patty soon came in again, clothed but not quite in her right +mind. Her color was still high and she seemed a little flustered. +Doctor Beatty did not turn around.</p> + +<p>"Oh, there you are, Patty," he said. "I won't look, you know, until +you give the word."</p> + +<p>"How absurd!" Miss Patty exclaimed. She meant to be very dignified, +but she was very nearly smiling. "But that is to be expected. You +always were absurd."</p> + +<p>The doctor's visit was a long one; and, when it was done, Miss Patty +went to the door with him.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span>"It has seemed quite like old times," she said softly.</p> + +<p>For a moment the doctor did not know what she was talking about. +"What?" he asked blankly. "Oh, yes, it has, more or less, hasn't it? +Good-bye, Patty. Keep your liver on the job. You're looking a little +bit yellow."</p> + +<p>There were tears in Miss Patty's eyes when she went back to sit with +Sally.</p> + +<p>"Doctor Beatty," she remarked after a short silence, "is not what he +was in the old days. He seems to have coarsened."</p> + +<p>Sally did not know what reply to make, so she made none.</p> + +<p>"He never used to say anything about my—my liver," resumed Miss +Patty, "when he called. He was practising then, too. It is painful to +me to see such a change in a man like him. Now, in the old days, when +he used to be here a great deal,—a <i>very</i> great deal, Sally,—he was +not at all like that." And Miss Patty sighed.</p> + +<p>Just then the maid came up to announce the Carlings.</p> + +<p>"An', Miss Patty," she continued significantly, "Charlie's in the +kitchen."</p> + +<p>"Oh, is he? I'll come right down and get him." The maid withdrew. "The +dear little boy!" said Miss Patty. "I suppose he's eating what he +ought not to. I'd like to let him have anything he wants, but I know +it wouldn't be good for him."</p> + +<p>She rose rather hastily, but paused with her hand on the door. "Of +course, Sally," she said with a short little laugh, "you are not to +think that I had any—Oh, here are the twins, Sally."</p> + +<p>Miss Patty fled and the Carlings entered.</p> + +<p>"H—h—hello, Sally," they cried. "H—h—how's your l—l—leg?"</p> + +<p>Sally laughed. "It's my foot, not my leg, and it doesn't hurt me at +all, hardly."</p> + +<p>This appeared to upset the concerted programme of the twins.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span>"B—but y—you s—s—said your l—l—leg hurt," objected Harry.</p> + +<p>"Well, so it did," Sally replied; "but it's my foot that's broken."</p> + +<p>"Your f—f—foot b—b—broken!" said Horry in astonishment. "H—h—how +c—can a f—f—foot b—be b—b—broken? D—d—does it w—work +ar—r—round?"</p> + +<p>"Not now, for it's all done up stiff in bandages."</p> + +<p>Horry was not allowed to pursue his inquiries, for the maid was at the +door again, announcing Richard Torrington. Sally sat up straighter, +and her cheeks were flushed and her eyes rather bright. The twins eyed +her with suspicion.</p> + +<p>As they passed down the broad stairs Harry nudged Horry again.</p> + +<p>"S—S—S—al—l—ly's s—stuck on D—D—Dick," he whispered.</p> + +<p>"S—s—sing it," said Horry, chuckling.</p> + +<p>"W—w—won't d—do it," replied Harry indignantly. His indignation +rose at every step. "Y—you r—r—rotten b—bum, y—you! W—w—wanted +t—to m—m—make m—me m—m—make a f—f—" The front door banged +behind the twins, and Sally heard no more.</p> + +<p>She had heard Harry's whispered remark and had glanced fearfully at +Dick. He seemed unconscious, and a great joy surged in Sally's heart.</p> + +<p>The first morning that Sally came downstairs—on crutches—she managed +her crutches unskillfully and fell half the flight. Uncle John and +Cousin Patty, followed closely by Charlie, hurried to her. Uncle John +was the most alarmed. He stooped and would have raised her head, but +Sally saved him that trouble and smiled at him.</p> + +<p>"I'm not hurt one mite," she said. She was not. "Wasn't I lucky?"</p> + +<p>He gave a great sigh of relief.</p> + +<p>"I was afraid," he replied. "I'm thankful that you're not. Are you +sure, Sally?" he asked anxiously.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span>"Oh, yes, I'm sure." And, to convince him, Sally jumped up, nimbly, +and hopped about on one foot.</p> + +<p>Uncle John smiled. "It isn't very wise to try such experiments. Now, +you're to sit beside me at the table, hereafter. We can't risk that +foot, for it would be more of a misfortune to our Sally and to us if +anything serious happened to it than she realizes."</p> + +<p>Sally had noted the way he spoke of "our Sally"; it was affectionate, +genuinely so. There could not be the least doubt about it.</p> + +<p>"Now," he continued, "you will please to take my arm."</p> + +<p>"Oh, father," remonstrated Miss Patty, "is it safe?"</p> + +<p>"Quite safe, Patty," he returned quietly, "and I wish it."</p> + +<p>It is not to be wondered at if Sally squeezed his arm a little. She +could not say what she wanted to, right there before Cousin Patty and +Charlie. It is hard to see why she couldn't, but Uncle John seemed to +understand; and they walked solemnly in to breakfast, Sally wielding +one crutch and Uncle John the other.</p> + +<p>"We're two old cripples, Sally," said he.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_IV2" id="CHAPTER_IV2"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER IV<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>Sally wrote Fox about it all, of course. There would have been no +excuse for her if she had not; and she wrote Henrietta, too, although +she had some difficulty in making the two letters cover the same +ground without saying the same thing. This was one of the times when +Sally's letters to Henrietta came in bunches. She alluded to her +accident in one of her letters to Doctor Galen, and he answered it +almost immediately, giving her four pages of excellent advice and +ending by taking it all back.</p> + +<p>"Fox tells me," he wrote, "that you have Meriwether Beatty looking +after you. In that case please consider all this unsaid. I know +something of Doctor Beatty and I am sure you couldn't be in better +hands—unless in the hands of Doctor Fox Sanderson. Have you heard +that Fox has decided to be a doctor and that he is studying with me +besides taking his course in the medical school?"</p> + +<p>No, Sally had not heard it. Fox was strangely reticent about himself. +He had not mentioned, even, that he had found a tenant for their +house; a tenant who would respect all of Sally's little affections—or +great affections, if you prefer—for trees from which the gynesaurus +had been wont to gaze out over the coal swamps, ages ago; a tenant +who, strangely enough, was named Sanderson. She learned this piece of +news, or inferred it, from one of Henrietta's letters. Henrietta had +supposed that Sally knew it already.</p> + +<p>Sally was feeling very tenderly affectionate towards Fox over this +news, and very much elated over the doctor's announcement, for it +could hardly fail to be evident what prosperity for Fox was implied in +Doctor Galen's great good will. She wrote to Fox at once, +congratulating him.</p> + +<p>"Everybody here seems to think that Doctor Galen is It, and so do I," +she went on. "I read Doctor Beatty what <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span>Doctor Galen said about him, +and you ought to have seen him. He looked pleased as he could be and +he smiled—he tried not to—and he positively blushed. Then he began +to talk about my foot, but my foot is not worth talking about now. It +is almost well. I go about quite easily with my crutches and Uncle +John takes me for a walk every morning, before he goes downtown. It +makes him late in getting down, but he doesn't seem to mind. Uncle +John and I have got quite fond of each other. Really, Fox, Uncle John +is the best person here. He is so kind and thoughtful and, Fox, so +polite! His politeness seems to be a part of him. Yes, I am very fond +of Uncle John. Of course, I am fond of Cousin Patty, too, but I like +Uncle John more.</p> + +<p>"And there are other ways I have of going out. Dick Torrington has +come in every afternoon since I hurt my foot, and, now that I can get +about so well, he takes me for a walk. It's very slow business for +him, of course, but he doesn't seem to mind, either. It's astonishing +how many people don't seem to mind. Dick is <i>very</i> nice and kind and +satisfying. He reminds me of you in many ways. He always treats me +like a person,—as if I were as old as he is,—not as if I was only a +little girl and of no consequence, as Everett Morton seems to think. +Dick seems to <i>like</i> to take me out. He is going to take his +examinations for Harvard this June, and he is a little afraid he won't +pass. He failed in a good many of his preliminaries—is that spelled +right?—last year. He isn't very quick at his studies. He says so +himself, so he knows it. I hope he will pass and I wish I could help +him. Uncle John says Dick's all right. Uncle John takes me to walk +again when he gets back, so that I have walking enough for a little +girl with crutches. I shan't need them very much longer, but Doctor +Beatty wants me to be careful and not to climb trees for quite a +while. There aren't any good trees here.</p> + +<p>"I hope you know, Fox, that I am very glad you and Henrietta are +living in our house and that I appreciate it. Write me about all the +old places, will you?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span>Fox smiled with amusement at himself to find that he felt a distinct +pang at Sally's account of Dick. If Dick was good to her there was no +reason in the world why he should not take her walking as much as he +would. But he, Fox, missed her companionship. Sally was one to be +missed.</p> + +<p>Dick did not succeed very well with his examinations. He had as many +conditions as it is permitted to a boy to have, and he had to study +hard all that summer. So the walks with Dick became less and less +frequent until they ceased altogether. Dick is not to be blamed. Sally +was only twelve and he could not have known how much his daily +companionship meant to her. If he had known, he would have managed, +out of the goodness of his heart, to see her oftener than once a week. +Dick was the only intimate friend that Sally had.</p> + +<p>Uncle John did not desert her merely because Dick had done so. They +became almost inseparable; so much so that old Cap'n Forsyth, chancing +to meet Mr. Hazen alone, one afternoon, cried out in astonishment.</p> + +<p>"Hello, John!" he cried in his great bluff voice, a voice that had +been heard, often, above the roaring of the wind in the rigging and +the hissing of the seas. "Hello, John! Where's the other one? Anything +the matter with her?"</p> + +<p>Uncle John smiled quietly. "I hope not, Stephen. I sincerely hope not. +I haven't been home yet, or you wouldn't find me alone, I trust."</p> + +<p>"I believe you're in love, John," Cap'n Forsyth cried again. He might +have been heard a block away.</p> + +<p>The smile had not left Mr. Hazen's face. "I believe I am, Stephen. I +believe I am."</p> + +<p>"She's worth it, is she?" roared Cap'n Forsyth.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hazen nodded. "She's worth it, Stephen."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad to hear it, John," Cap'n Forsyth shouted. No doubt he +thought he was whispering. "It's getting to be as common a sight—you +and Sally—as those Carling nuisances. And Patty's just as bad with +that little boy brother of hers. I hope he's worth it, too. Good-bye, +John."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span>There was some doubt in Uncle John's mind as to Charlie's being worth +it. He and Patty were inseparable, too, and Charlie was not improved. +He was in imminent danger of being spoiled, if the mischief was not +already done. Uncle John sighed and turned homeward. He found Sally +sitting on the front steps, waiting for him.</p> + +<br /> +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> +<br /> + +<p>After Dick went, in the fall, Sally had nothing to do but to try to +play by herself and devote herself to her studies and miss Dick. She +found that she missed him almost as much as she had missed Fox. As for +playing by herself, she had had that to do nearly all summer; for, +although she had tried, conscientiously, she could not feel any +interest in the other girls of her own age. They were uninteresting, +somehow. Uncle John was better, and she got into the habit of going +down to his office in the afternoons and coming home with him. Miss +Patty was very glad to have her do it. It relieved her mind; in case, +you know, he should stumble or slip or—or anything else should +happen. She felt that Sally was to be relied upon, and so she was; but +Miss Patty was putting a rather grave responsibility upon her and she +was a little too lonely. It is not good for little girls to be lonely. +She was unaware of the responsibility.</p> + +<p>Sally's school was a diversion. Diversion seems to be the right word. +There were about seventy scholars in the school; and, with six +classes, that makes about a dozen scholars to a class, more or less. +The lower classes had more and the upper classes, by natural processes +of elimination, had less. Sally's class had fourteen; and Sally had no +trouble at all in standing at the head of a class of fourteen. It had +made Dick envious—no, not envious, for Dick was never that; but it +was a constant wonder to him that any one should be able to stand +first in fourteen with so little work.</p> + +<p>In the great schoolroom, where all the scholars sat when they had no +classes to go to, the boys sat on one side and the girls sat on the +other. They were given seats according to their rank, the first class +at the back of the room and the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span>sixth class right under the eye of +the principal, almost under his very hand. In general, this was a good +arrangement. It happened, however, that the worst behavior was not in +the lowest class, but in the fourth, which was Sally's class. So +Sally, from her seat in the fourth row from the front, saw Eugene +Spencer, commonly called "Jane," suddenly haled from his seat at her +side—Sally sat next to the boys and Jane next to the girls—and, +after a severe lecture, assigned a desk within touch of the desk of +the principal, Mr. MacDalie.</p> + +<p>Jane was a boy of immaculate and ladylike appearance. He listened +respectfully to the lecture and received the assignment of the desk +with a bow of thanks; all of which behavior was, in itself, +unobjectionable. Jane had a knack at that. But it drove the principal, +who was a man of irascible temper, into a white-hot rage, which Jane +respectfully sat through, apparently undisturbed. A suppressed +excitement ran along the rows of boys, who were as if on tiptoe with +expectation of what might happen. Sally, herself, was trembling, she +found; for it seemed, for a few minutes, as though the principal would +do Jane bodily harm. But nothing happened. The white-hot rage cooled +quickly, as such rages do; and the principal smiled with amusement, +changing in a moment, as such men change, and went on with his hearing +of the class in Civil Government.</p> + +<p>Sally was very glad that Jane was gone from his seat beside her, for +he had almost convulsed her by his pranks on countless occasions and +had very nearly made her disgrace herself by laughing aloud. She had +fears, however, still; for Jane's new desk was between the principal +and the classes that he was hearing, and was on the floor, while the +principal's desk was on the platform. Jane, therefore, was, in a +measure, concealed from the view of the astute MacDalie, but in full +view of the class, which occupied benches a few feet behind him. +Moreover, the desks on either side of Jane's—there were three of them +in a row, of which Jane occupied the middle one—were occupied, +respectively, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>by the Carlings. The Carlings always occupied those +desks. They had got to feeling a sort of proprietorship in them. Jane, +however, knew too much to continue his mischief on that day. He was +filled to the brim with it, that was all, and it was only a question +how long before it would run over.</p> + +<p>Sally was glad when the bell called her to a class downstairs; and she +sat as if in a trance and watched Jane Spencer gravely fishing in the +aquarium tank with a bent pin on the end of a thread. He kept on +fishing all through the class hour, unhindered. The single little fish +in the tank tugged at the pin occasionally, without result; and, when +the bell sounded again, Jane folded up his line and put it in his +book.</p> + +<p>"No luck," he observed, bowing to the teacher.</p> + +<p>"Too bad!" said the teacher sympathetically.</p> + +<p>"Yes, isn't it?" said Jane; and he withdrew in good order, leaving the +teacher smiling to himself. What was he smiling at, I wonder?</p> + +<p>Jane never descended to such behavior as sitting with his feet in his +desk, as Oliver Pilcher did. No doubt he considered it undignified and +generally bad form, which unquestionably it was. Moreover he would +thereby run the risk of getting caught in a situation which he +regarded as unprofessional. Oliver Pilcher was caught several times, +for it is somewhat difficult to get one's feet out of one's desk as +quickly as is necessary to avoid that humiliation. If you do not +believe it, try it.</p> + +<p>Jane may have tried it or he may not. He preferred a different sort of +misbehavior; it was especial balm to his soul to be thought to be +misbehaving and then to prove that he was not, for that was a joke on +the teacher which was apt, for reasons unknown, to make him hopping +mad, and Jane's end seemed to have been attained when he had made the +teacher hopping mad. He was apt to appear to be very inattentive in +class, thinking—but I do not know what he was thinking. Even Mr. +MacDalie was deceived <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span>occasionally. Jane would be sitting, looking +out of the window, perhaps, with his book face down beside him, while +the Latin translation dragged by painful jerks along the other end of +the class. Mr. MacDalie would have noted Jane's attitude, as he noted +everything, and would call upon him suddenly and, as he supposed, +unexpectedly. And Jane would take up his book, deliberately, and, +rising, begin at the very word and give a beautiful and fluent +translation until he was stopped. Sally saw that happen four times +that half-year.</p> + +<p>The last time, the principal smiled broadly and lowered his book.</p> + +<p>"Well, Eugene," he said,—he almost called him "Jane,"—"you fooled me +nicely. That translation was very nearly perfect."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, sir," Jane replied gravely; and he sat down and placed his +book, face down again, upon the bench beside him and resumed his +gazing out of the window.</p> + +<p>One day during Dick's Christmas vacation there was a great sleighing +party. There was no reason in the world why Sally should have expected +to be asked or wanted to be. She told herself so, many times; but she +was disappointed, grievously. Mr. Hazen saw it,—any one could see it +plainly,—and, because he could not bear that Sally should feel so, he +asked her if she wouldn't oblige him by going sleighing with him. And +because she couldn't bear to disappoint Uncle John, Sally went. She +was grateful to him, too. So it happened that two people, who would +have much preferred going anywhere on their own feet, were wrapped in +a buffalo robe,—one of the last of them; a robe of which Mr. Hazen +was very proud,—and, thus protected against the cold, were being +drawn easily behind the stout horse.</p> + +<p>At the bottom of her heart, Sally despised sleighing only a degree +less than she despised driving in a carriage. She thought she should +like riding, but of riding a horse she knew nothing. She had never in +her life been on a horse's <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span>back. As for sleighing, she thought, as +they drove along, that they might as well be in her room, sitting in a +seat that was not wide enough for two, with a buffalo robe tucked +around their knees. With the window wide open and bells jingled +rhythmically before them and an occasional gentle bounce, the effect +would not be so very different. As she thought of this, she began to +chuckle at the humor of it. You may not see any humor in the idea, but +Sally did.</p> + +<p>A sleigh turned the next corner suddenly, and a look of anxiety came +into Mr. Hazen's face. "That's Cap'n Forsyth," he said. "A most +reckless driver. It's best to give him the road if we can."</p> + +<p>Sally recognized the captain, in an old blue sleigh, very strongly +built. The captain had need of vehicles that were strongly built and +he had them built to his order, like a ship. He was standing up in the +sleigh and urging on his horse, which was on the dead run. Captain +Forsyth kept the middle of the road and made no attempt to turn out. +Perhaps he could not.</p> + +<p>"Hello, John," he roared, waving his whip. "Hello, Sally."</p> + +<p>The horse must have considered that the waving of the whip was an +indication that the captain wanted more speed, and he put on an extra +burst of it. Captain Forsyth sat down suddenly. It only amused him.</p> + +<p>"What d'ye think o' that, John?" he shouted.</p> + +<p>"Turn out, turn out, Stephen!" Mr. Hazen called anxiously. He had not +succeeded in getting completely out of the road.</p> + +<p>"Can't do it, John," replied the captain, regaining his feet. The old +blue sleigh struck the other on the port quarter with a crash. It was +not the captain's sleigh that was injured.</p> + +<p>"Charge it to me, John," the captain roared. He did not turn even his +head. "By the sound I've carried away your after davits. Charge it to +me." And Captain Forsyth was borne swiftly away.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span>That "Charge it to me" rang in Sally's ears as it died away upon the +breeze. She picked herself up, laughing. Mr. Hazen was not thrown out +and was unhurt. The horse stood quietly.</p> + +<p>"Are you hurt, Sally?" asked Uncle John anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Not a bit; and you aren't, are you? Now, what shall we do?"</p> + +<p>"I think there is enough of the sleigh left to carry us both if we go +slowly. If not, we'll have to walk."</p> + +<p>Presently Sally burst out into a new fit of chuckling. "How funny +Captain Forsyth is! What shall you do, Uncle John? Shall you charge it +to him, as he said to do?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," Uncle John replied. "It would hurt his feelings, if I +didn't. He would consider it unfriendly. He has a good many to pay +for."</p> + +<p>"He had much better go on his own feet," said Sally reflectively.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_V2" id="CHAPTER_V2"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER V<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>Sally was fifteen when the final good news came from Fox. She was in +Uncle John's office, waiting until he should be ready to go. Uncle +John's office was on the second floor of a little old wooden building +where it had always been since Uncle John had had an office. He had +chosen it because it stood just at the head of a short street leading +to a certain wharf—Hazen's Wharf; and because from its windows one +could see the length of the street and the length of the wharf and +note what was going on there and how many vessels were fitting. The +number of vessels that were fitting was surprisingly great, even now, +and Sally could see their yards sticking out over the wharf, although +their hulls were mostly hidden behind projecting buildings. That view +from his office windows had saved Mr. Hazen many steps in the course +of a long life. The fact that the business centre of the town had +moved up and had left him stranded disturbed him not at all. He was +still in his business centre.</p> + +<p>So Sally, thinking vaguely of Fox and Henrietta, sat at a window and +watched and was very well content with the view of the harbor and the +wharf and the ends of yards sticking over it, and as much of the hulls +of vessels as she could see, and the row of oil casks with a rough +fence of old ships' sheathing behind them, and the black dust of the +street. The black dust was stirred up now and then by the feet of +horses and by the wheels of the low, heavy truck that they were +dragging. Then a man, with a heavy mallet in his hand, approached the +row of casks and began to loosen the bungs. It was an operation that +had become familiar to Sally and she knew it to be preparation for the +work of the gauger, who would come along later and measure what <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span>was +in the casks. The man with the mallet and the gauger with his stick +were familiar figures.</p> + +<p>But certain other familiar figures drew into her view and watched the +man loosening the bungs, and seemed to be greatly interested in the +proceeding. They were the Carlings and Oliver Pilcher. Sally wondered +what mischief they were up to. That they were up to some mischief she +had not a doubt. The man with the mallet must have been a very +trusting, unsuspicious man. It is not at all likely that the angelic +faces of the singing twins and Oliver Pilcher were unknown about the +wharves. Even if they were, why, boys are all—even the best of +them—they are all cut by the same pattern, or they ought to be. Don't +we—you and I—feel a sort of contempt for a boy who is not? And don't +we call him "sissy" in our hearts? The other boys will not confine +their calls of "sissy" to their hearts and it is likely to go hard +with that boy.</p> + +<p>When the bungs were all loosened, that trusting man with the mallet +meandered slowly away, having paid no attention whatever to the boys +who watched him so innocently. Sally saw the Carlings looking after +him with an alert attention, whatever there was to be done being +evidently postponed until he was out of sight. She could not help +thinking how differently Jane Spencer would have acted. He would have +disdained to wait for the man to disappear, for there would not be any +fun in it for him unless there was some interested person present. But +Jane Spencer was Jane Spencer and there was only one of him.</p> + +<p>The man must have gone into some building, although Sally couldn't be +sure, for she couldn't see; but the twins turned their heads and +Oliver Pilcher gave a yell and leaped for the row of casks, closely +followed by the Carlings, who began chanting loudly. Sally could not +hear the words, but the chant marked the time to which Oliver Pilcher +leaped into the air and came down with force and precision upon one +bung after another. Just one cask behind him came Harry Carling. Sally +supposed it was Harry, for the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span>Carlings always went in that order. +One cask behind Harry came Horry; and the casks gave out a hollow +sound, in accordance with their degrees of emptiness, after the manner +of casks,—especially oil casks,—as the three boys landed on their +respective bungs.</p> + +<p>The boys disappeared behind the corner of a building, but as the chant +continued, it was to be inferred that the exercise was not yet +finished; and in a moment back they came in the reverse order, landing +on the bungs with the same force and precision. For driving bungs +solidly, this method is to be commended.</p> + +<p>But Horry, perhaps feeling somewhat hurried as he got to the end, +missed his last bung, came down with misdirected force upon the +slippery staves and landed on his back in the oil-soaked dust. Harry, +unable to stop, landed upon him; but Oliver Pilcher made a sidewise +spring and cleared them. The twins had forgotten to sing—the moment +was too full of excitement—and were stuttering and pounding each +other. Their voices were just beginning to change.</p> + +<p>Some sound made Oliver Pilcher turn his head. Evidently, he hated to.</p> + +<p>"Cheesit!" he cried, beginning to run before the word was out of his +mouth.</p> + +<p>Harry did not wait to see what was coming, but got to his feet +instantly, dragging Horry by an arm, and ran. Horry protested +vehemently, but he ran, and the three boys came up the hill, directly +toward the office windows, and disappeared around the corner. Down on +the wharf the man with the mallet was patiently loosening the bungs +again. They came hard.</p> + +<p>Sally gasped and chuckled. "Did you see, Uncle John?" For Uncle John +was standing at her elbow. "Whose are they? The barrels, I mean."</p> + +<p>"They are mine, Sally," he replied, with a sigh. "I saw some of it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's too bad," said she quickly, "if they are yours."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span>"It's no great matter. Patrick has plenty of time. It's only a little +annoyance."</p> + +<p>"And did you see the back of Horry Carling's jacket?" asked Sally, +horrified. "How will he ever get it clean?"</p> + +<p>"He can't," answered Uncle John briefly.</p> + +<p>"Their mother must have a hard time," said Sally thoughtfully, after a +moment of silence. "Are you ready to go now?"</p> + +<p>"Just about. Here's a letter for you, from Fox, I suppose. I'll be +ready by the time you have read it."</p> + +<p>Sally thanked him and took the letter. It contained rather momentous +news; news about her mother. It was good news, the best that could be, +Sally thought. She had been getting good news about her mother all +along. Indeed, she had been getting letters from her mother +occasionally for nearly two years; mere notes at first, her dear love, +scribbled on a scrap of paper. Then they began to be a little longer +and at lessening intervals; and for some months now they had been +regular letters, not long, to be sure, but letters. The improvement +was slow, very slow!</p> + +<p>This news was different. Her mother was well enough, at last, to leave +Doctor Galen's care. There were several things that she might do; and +Fox suggested that Mrs. Ladue come out to her old home to live. +Henrietta and he would be happy to continue there, if that met with +the approval of all concerned. There would be money enough to carry on +the establishment, he thought. But what were Sally's plans? What did +she prefer? Meanwhile—</p> + +<p>Sally knew very well whose money there would be enough of, if Fox's +suggestion were accepted. It would mean that Fox would support them; +for she knew, too, that they did not have money enough. Oh, mercy, no, +not nearly enough; not enough even for them to pretend that it would +do. But she must be with her mother, and Charlie must, too. She would +not let Charlie be a bother. It would be a little harder than it used +to be, the care of Charlie, for Cousin Patty had—well—and Sally did +not say it, even to herself. She <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span>felt that it would be almost +treason. What should she do? What could she do, for that matter? It +needed thought.</p> + +<p>So Uncle John found a sober and serious Sally waiting for him. He +noted it at once.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Sally?" he asked. "Not bad news, I hope?"</p> + +<p>He spoke rather anxiously. Sally's worries were his concern; and that +was not such a bad state of affairs either.</p> + +<p>Sally smiled up at him. "Oh, no," she said. "It's good news, but I +have to think what I shall do." And she told him all about it.</p> + +<p>They were well on their way home by the time Sally had finished her +exposition of the question which troubled her. It was too new to her +to have been thought out and Sally presented every aspect as it +occurred to her.</p> + +<p>"It seems to be a large question," said Uncle John thoughtfully, "for +a little girl to have to answer, all by herself." Suddenly he turned +and looked at Sally. "Bless me! You aren't little any more. I must +stop calling you a little girl. How old are you, Sally?"</p> + +<p>"Fifteen last spring," Sally replied. "Had you forgotten, Uncle John?"</p> + +<p>"No, oh, no, I suppose not, but it is hard to realize that you are +growing up so fast. Why, you are nearly as tall as I am. And how long +have you been with us?"</p> + +<p>"Almost four years, Uncle John."</p> + +<p>"Bless me! So you have, Sally. It seems only last week that you came; +and yet, you have always been with us. Well, my dear, I don't find +myself quite ready to send you off again, and so I advise you to +dismiss the puzzling question from your mind for a day or two. Better +let me bother over it awhile. Fox can wait for a few days. He won't +mind, will he?"</p> + +<p>"No," she said, smiling, "Fox won't mind. He has been waiting four +years already."</p> + +<p>"Fox is an excellent young man," Mr. Hazen murmured. "I must see what +Patty has to say."</p> + +<p>Patty had a good deal to say. She came to her father in a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span>hurry and +in some agitation that same evening, after Sally had gone to bed. It +saved him the trouble of introducing the subject and put the burden of +proof on the other side. Not that it mattered particularly to Mr. +Hazen where the burden of proof lay. He was accustomed to have his own +quiet way. In fact, consultation with Patty was rather an empty +formality; but it was a form which he always observed scrupulously.</p> + +<p>"Oh, father," she began, rather flurried, "what do you suppose Sally +has just told me? Her mother—"</p> + +<p>"I know. I was meaning to speak to you about it."</p> + +<p>"I am all upset. I can't bear to think of sending Charlie away now." +There were tears in poor Miss Patty's eyes.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hazen could not quite repress a smile. "True," he said; "I had +forgotten him."</p> + +<p>"Oh, father!" Miss Patty exclaimed reproachfully. "How could you?"</p> + +<p>"It is incomprehensible, but I was thinking of Sally. Never mind, +Patty, it comes to the same thing in the end. Would it be quite +convenient to ask Sarah Ladue to come here?"</p> + +<p>"Ask Cousin Sarah to come here to <i>live</i>?" Miss Patty echoed, in some +consternation.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes, Patty. I understand that she is likely to live and—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, father!" Miss Patty cried again. "You know I didn't mean—"</p> + +<p>"I don't pretend," Mr. Hazen resumed, smiling, "to any particular love +for Sarah, whom I never saw more than once or twice in my life. Even +that must have been many years ago. But, as I recollect, she was a +pretty, unassuming young woman whom I thought, at the time, altogether +too good for Charles." Miss Patty looked shocked. "Oh, there is +nothing gained by pretending to be blind to Charles's weakness. He was +a gambler before he left college. I knew it very well. There was +nothing to be done. Meddling with other people's children is a vice, +Patty. It never does any <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span>good. I have some misgivings—" Mr. Hazen +paused abruptly. There seemed to him nothing to be gained by following +out that line of thought either.</p> + +<p>"Some misgivings about what, father?" Patty prompted.</p> + +<p>"It doesn't matter, Patty. I have too many misgivings about +everything. It is the fault of age. As I come to think of it, Sally +looks like her mother. I hope her character—but Sally's character is +all right. As to Sarah, we have spare rooms, haven't we?"</p> + +<p>"Ye—es," assented Miss Patty reluctantly. She hated to give in, but +she might have known that she would have to. She did know it. "But, +father,—supporting the whole family—"</p> + +<p>"There is no question," said Mr. Hazen quietly; and Patty knew that +there was no more to be said. "It is a choice between letting that +young Mr. Sanderson support them,—which he would be very glad to do, +Patty,—and asking Sarah to come here. I much prefer to ask her. I +wish to keep Sally with us and you are not willing to let Charlie go. +On this plan we shall keep them both. Will you write to Sarah, +proposing it? Write as cordially as you can, Patty, will you? Thank +you."</p> + +<p>So it happened that Mrs. Ladue came to Whitby in September. It could +not be said to have happened, perhaps, but, at all events, she came. +They all went down behind the stout horse to meet her; all but Uncle +John. There were Cousin Patty and Charlie and Sally herself. Sally's +eyes were very bright and there was the old spot of brilliant color in +either cheek. Uncle John noticed it. He patted her hand as she got +into the carryall, but he did not speak. Miss Patty did, after they +got started. Sally was sitting up very straight and she was looking +straight ahead and the spots of color were in her cheeks still. It was +much as she had looked when she went away from her old home that she +so loved. Miss Patty could not understand it. She was even a little +afraid, I think.</p> + +<p>"Sally," she said hesitatingly, "don't—don't look <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span>so—so <i>strained</i>. +Surely, this is not a time to feel worried or anxious. Surely, this is +a—a joyous occasion."</p> + +<p>To Miss Patty's surprise, Sally burst out laughing. As Miss Patty had +implied, she did look strained. There may have been something a little +hysterical about her laugh. Miss Patty was more afraid than ever. She +proposed stopping at the apothecary's and getting a little camphor +or—or something.</p> + +<p>But Sally protested that she did not need camphor or anything. "You +know, Cousin Patty," she went on, the tears standing in her eyes, "I +haven't seen my mother for four years, and I don't know, quite, what +to expect. I am very—very <i>fond</i> of my mother, Cousin Patty. I can't +help my feelings, but you needn't be afraid"—and Sally laughed a +little—"that I am going to have hysterics or anything, for I'm not."</p> + +<p>Miss Patty murmured some reply. Sally did not know what it was, and +Miss Patty didn't either.</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose," Sally continued, "that Charlie remembers mother +very well, for he—"</p> + +<p>"I do, too," said Charlie, with the pleasant manner which had become +usual.</p> + +<p>"Very well, then, you do," replied Sally patiently. And she said no +more, for they were already turning down the steep hill that led to +the station.</p> + +<p>In time—it seemed a very long time—but in time the train came in; +and Sally watched eagerly the crowd flowing down the steps and +spreading out on the platform. Presently, near the end, came +Henrietta, as fast as the people would permit. Sally gave a great sigh +of relief, for she was beginning to be afraid—and there was Fox. +Sally edged impatiently toward the car steps. Fox was not looking at +her; he was helping a lady whose eyes wandered eagerly over the +waiting people. The lady's mouth drooped at one corner and her hair +showed just a little gray behind her lifted veil.</p> + +<p>Sally ran forward, elbowing her way without remorse; <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span>she had but one +thought. Her chin quivered. A wave of tenderness overwhelmed her.</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother! Mother, dear! Don't you know me?"</p> + +<p>The drooping lips parted in a lovely smile. Sally felt her mother's +arms around her. How she had longed for that!</p> + +<p>"Why, Sally! Why, my own great girl! Why, darling, don't cry!"</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_VI2" id="CHAPTER_VI2"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER VI<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>They soon got used to Mrs. Ladue's gentle presence among them. Uncle +John got used to it more quickly than Sally did herself; much more +quickly than Cousin Patty did. But then, her coming was none of Cousin +Patty's doing, in spite of the fact that it was Cousin Patty who sent +the invitation. It took Patty some time to get over that. The things +that we are forced to do, however gentle the force may be, are seldom +wholly acceptable to us. As for Sally, her happiness was too great to +make it possible for her to get used to it immediately. She used to +run in when she got home from school and hug her mother. She wanted to +make sure that her presence was a "true fact," as she said. She wanted +to touch; to be certain that she had not dreamed it.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ladue used to sit beside the table with its stained green cover, +in that very homelike back parlor, in the long evenings, with Uncle +John in his great chair before the bubbling fire. Miss Patty ran—or, +no, she did not run, literally. That would have been most undignified +besides being unnecessary; but it was probably unnecessary for Miss +Patty to go out so often and stay so long about her household duties. +The duties of the household rather oppressed Miss Patty and sat +heavily upon her. Household duties? Better be about them, Miss Patty +thought. So she flitted nervously in and out twenty times during an +evening. She was out more than she was in and her chair on the other +side of the fire from Uncle John's was usually empty. She went to +glance into the kitchen, to see what Bridget or Mary <i>could</i> be about, +it was so quiet there. She hadn't heard a sound for the longest while. +"Don't you think I'd better see, father?" And her father would smile +quietly and tell <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span>her to do as she liked. Or she would wonder whether +the maids had locked the cellar door; or there was that window in the +pantry; or she had to see Charlie safely into bed, although one would +think that Charlie was very nearly old enough to see himself safely +into bed. There were things without end; anything that <i>might</i> not be +just as Patty thought it should be.</p> + +<p>Uncle John and Mrs. Ladue sat quietly through it all, Mrs. Ladue with +her sewing or her embroidery or her crochet work or her book. She was +not much of an invalid, after all; not enough of an invalid to give +any trouble. She had to be careful, that was all. She must not get too +tired and she must have plenty of sleep. Those two things Doctor Galen +had enjoined upon her at parting, with much impressiveness. And he +thought that he might as well drop a line to Meriwether Beatty asking +him to keep an eye on her and to let him know how she was getting +along. "So you see, my lady, you are not out of my clutches yet," the +doctor finished merrily. To which Mrs. Ladue had replied, almost +tearfully, that she had no wish to get out of his clutches and that +she never could repay him and she didn't want to and she shouldn't +try. She <i>liked</i> to feel that she owed her life to him—</p> + +<p>"Tut, tut!" said the doctor, smiling. "Don't forget Fox."</p> + +<p>And Mrs. Ladue protested that there was not the least danger of her +forgetting Fox. She didn't know where they would all be if it had not +been for Fox, and she was very fond of him, and she thought—Then Fox, +himself, had appeared, and she said no more upon that subject, and +they got into their train and presently they came away. But, whatever +Mrs. Ladue's thoughts may have been, on that subject or on any other, +she said little and seemed to invite confidence. There is no reason to +believe that she wished confidences from anybody. It may have been +only that she kept her thoughts to herself, for the most part, as +Sally did, and that she was straightforward and truthful, as Sally +was. That is not to imply that Sally was an exact counterpart <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span>of her +mother. Probably Sally, in her mother's place, would have done very +differently; almost certainly her relations with Professor Charles +Ladue would have been different. Even as it was, it will be remembered +that he seemed to have a certain fear of his little daughter. He had +no fear of his wife. Mrs. Ladue's environment, to use a phrase that +needs a deal of explaining before we know exactly what we mean, had +been unsuited to her.</p> + +<p>The new environment was not unsuited to her, at least as far as Uncle +John was concerned. She helped to create an atmosphere of +tranquillity; an atmosphere eminently suited to an old man and one to +which that particular old man had not been accustomed. There was +nothing tranquil or serene about Miss Patty. Uncle John, it is to be +presumed, liked tranquillity and serenity. He succeeded in attaining +to a surprising degree of it, in his own person, considering. Sally +had been a help in the past four years; it was going on to five years +now.</p> + +<p>He was thinking upon these matters one evening as he sat reading. He +was thinking more of them than of the page before him. He put the book +down slowly, and looked up. Patty was upstairs with Charlie.</p> + +<p>"Sarah," he remarked, "I find it very pleasant to have you with us."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ladue was surprised. There was no occasion for that remark unless +Uncle John just wanted to make it. Sally, who had not yet gone +upstairs, flushed with sudden pleasure and her eyes shone.</p> + +<p>"There, mother!" she cried. "There now! You see. What did I tell—"</p> + +<p>In Mrs. Ladue's face the faint color was coming and going. She spoke +with some emotion.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Uncle John. It was kind of you to ask us. I find it very +pleasant to be here. And that—it would be so easy not to make it +pleasant. I haven't—I can't thank you suitably—"</p> + +<p>"There is no question of thanks, Sarah," he replied, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span>smiling gravely. +"I hope you will put that out of your mind. You give more than you +get—you and Sally."</p> + +<p>"I am very glad," Mrs. Ladue murmured; "very glad and grateful. Sally +is a good girl." Uncle John smiled at Sally. "She would not bother +you—"</p> + +<p>Mr. Hazen reached forth and patted Sally's hand as it lay on the +table. "No. Sally doesn't bother me very much."</p> + +<p>"But Charlie," Mrs. Ladue continued, somewhat anxiously,—"Charlie, +I'm afraid, does. He has changed a good deal in these four years. He's +hard to manage."</p> + +<p>"Patty can't manage him, if you mean that," Mr. Hazen agreed. "She +doesn't try very hard. But he's developed in the wrong direction, +that's all, I think."</p> + +<p>"No." There was a curious hardness in Mrs. Ladue's voice and manner. +It did not seem possible that she could be speaking of her own little +son. "I doubt if he could be developed in any other direction. He's +very much like his father. His father was—" She stopped abruptly. +"But there is no use in going over that," she added.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hazen nodded. "I knew Charles before you did," he observed, +"and—but, as you say, there is nothing to be gained by going into +that. I may as well speak to Patty—again."</p> + +<p>"I have absolutely no influence with Charlie now," Mrs. Ladue sighed. +"It is natural enough that I should not have any."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hazen's talk with Patty amounted to nothing, as was to be +expected. No doubt he did expect it, for it is not to be supposed that +he could have lived with Patty Havering for nearly forty years without +knowing her traits. She had no real firmness. She had obstinacy +enough; a quiet, mulish obstinacy which left her exactly where one +found her. She was absolutely untouched by argument or persuasion, to +which she made little reply, although she sometimes fretted and grew +restive under it. Nothing short of her father's quiet "I wish it, +Patty" was of the least avail. She gave <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span>in to that because she knew +that it was a command, not because she knew that it was right. As to +that, was not <i>she</i> always right? She never had the least doubt of it. +She sometimes doubted the expediency of an act; it was not expedient +to disobey her father's implied commands. Not that she had ever tried +it, but she did not think that it would be expedient. I don't think +that it would have been either. It was just as well, perhaps, that she +never tried it. But, in a matter like this one of Charlie, there was +no command direct enough to enforce obedience. You know what I mean, +as Miss Patty might have said; thereby implying that she hoped that +you did, for she didn't. She was not quite clear about it in her own +mind, but there seemed little risk in doing as she wanted to rather +than as her father wanted her to. Her own ideas were rather hazy and +the more she tried to think it out the more muddled she got. Anyway, +she said to herself, as she gave it up, she wouldn't, and she got up +from the rocking-chair which she permitted herself in her own room and +went briskly about her duties. She had sat there for as much as half +an hour. She had been watching Charlie chasing about Morton's lot, for +she could see over the high wall as she sat. Most of the boys were +tolerant chaps, as most boys are, after a certain age; but some of +them were not and some others had not reached that age of tolerance +apparently. Fortunately for Miss Patty's peace of mind she did not +happen to see any of that.</p> + +<p>Miss Patty, however, did not make public her decision, but Mrs. Ladue +knew what it was just as well as if she had shouted it from the +housetop. Where did a talk with Patty end but where it began? And Mrs. +Ladue had been sitting at her own window—she shared Sally's room—she +had been sitting at her own window while Patty sat at hers and looked +at Charlie over the wall. But Mrs. Ladue watched longer than Patty and +she saw several things which Patty was spared; to be sure, the wall +was very high and cut off the view from a large part of the lot, but +she saw Ollie Pilcher run after Charlie at last and chase him into +that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span>part of the lot which she could not see. Ollie was not noted for +his patience, but Mrs. Ladue thought the loss of the remnants of it +was excusable, in the circumstances. Then there was an outcry and it +was not Ollie's voice that cried out.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ladue sighed and got out of her comfortable chair and went +downstairs. She hoped she should be ahead of Patty when Charlie came +in. She was not, but she and Patty waited together; and Charlie came. +He was not crying, but the traces of tears were on his face. Miss +Patty gave a little exclamation of horror.</p> + +<p>"Charlie," began Mrs. Ladue hurriedly, before Patty could speak, "come +up with me. I want to talk with you."</p> + +<p>Charlie wanted to go with Cousin Patty; he didn't want to be talked +to. He said so with much petulance.</p> + +<p>"Let me take the poor child, Sarah," Patty began.</p> + +<p>"After I have talked with him, Patty," said Mrs. Ladue patiently. +Nobody should know how she dreaded this talk. "Come, Charlie."</p> + +<p>She made Charlie mount the stairs ahead of her and she succeeded in +steering him into her room. He washed his face with furious haste.</p> + +<p>"Charlie, dear boy," she said at last, "I was watching you for a long +time this afternoon. You know that I can see very well what goes on in +the lot from this window."</p> + +<p>He was wiping his face and he exposed his eyes for a moment, gazing at +his mother over the edge of the towel. They were handsome eyes and +they were filled now with a calculating thoughtfulness, which his +mother noted. It did not make her feel any easier.</p> + +<p>Charlie considered it worth risking. "Then you saw," he said, still +with that petulant note in his voice, "how the boys picked on me. Why, +they—"</p> + +<p>"I saw, Charlie," Mrs. Ladue interrupted, smiling wearily, "not how +the boys picked on you, but how you bothered them. I thought Ollie was +very patient and I didn't blame him a bit."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span>"But he <i>hurt</i> me," Charlie cried in astonishment. It was the most +heinous sin that he knew of. Patty would think so.</p> + +<p>"You deserved to be hurt. You are eleven, Charlie, and I'm surprised +that you don't see that your actions will leave you without friends, +absolutely without friends within a few years. Where should we be now, +Charlie," continued Mrs. Ladue gently, "if we had had no friends?"</p> + +<p>"Guess Cousin Patty'd be my friend," Charlie grumbled. "Guess she +would."</p> + +<p>"You will wear out even her doting affection if you keep on," replied +his mother almost sharply. It was difficult to imagine her speaking +with real sharpness. She regretted it instantly. "My dear little son, +why won't you do differently? Why do you prefer to make the boys all +dislike you? It's for your own good that I have talked to you, and I +haven't said so very much. You don't please Uncle John, Charlie. You +would be <i>so</i> much happier if you would only do as Sally does and—"</p> + +<p>"Huh!" said Charlie, throwing down the towel. "Cousin Patty wants me, +mother." And he bolted out of the door.</p> + +<p>Tears came to Mrs. Ladue's eyes. Her eyes were still wet when Doctor +Beatty came in. He could not help seeing.</p> + +<p>"Not crying?" he asked. "That will never do."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ladue smiled. "I have been talking to Charlie," she said, as if +that were a sufficient explanation.</p> + +<p>Indeed, it seemed to be. That, in itself, was cause for grief. "Ah!" +said the doctor. "Charlie didn't receive it with meekness, I judge."</p> + +<p>She did not answer directly. "It seems hopeless," she returned at +last. "I have been away from him so long that I am virtually a +stranger. And Patty—" She did not finish.</p> + +<p>Doctor Beatty laughed. "I know Patty. I think I may say that I know +her very well. Why, there was one period—" He remembered in time and +his tone changed. "Yes, there was one period when I thought I knew her +very well. Ancient history," he went on with a wave of his +hand,—"ancient history."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span>Mrs. Ladue said nothing, but she looked sympathetic and she smiled. +Doctor Beatty sat down conveniently near her, but yet far enough away +to be able to watch her closely.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the doctor talked. It was of little consequence what he +talked about, and he rambled along from one subject to another, +talking of anything that came into his head; of anything but Mrs. +Ladue's health. And the strange thing about it was that she had no +inkling as to what the doctor was about. She had no idea that she was +under observation. She only thought it queer that he had so much time +to devote to talking to her. He couldn't be very busy; but she liked +it and would have been sorry to have him give up his visits.</p> + +<p>Presently, in his rambling talk, the doctor was once more speaking of +the period of ancient history to which he had already thoughtlessly +alluded.</p> + +<p>"There was a time," he said, regarding Mrs. Ladue thoughtfully, "when I +thought I knew Patty pretty well. I used to be here pretty often, you +know. She has spoken of it, perhaps?" Mrs. Ladue smiled and shook her +head. "Ah, what a blow to vanity! I used to think—but my thoughts were +of scarcely more value then than they are now, so it's no matter what I +thought. It's a great while—fifteen or twenty years—struggling young +doctor in the first flush of youth and a growing practice. Practice +like an incubator baby; very, very frail. I suppose I must have been a +sentimental young chap; but not so young either. Must have been nearly +thirty, both of us. Then the baby got out of the incubator and I +couldn't come so often."</p> + +<p>He was speaking reminiscently. Then, suddenly, he realized what he was +saying and roused himself with a start.</p> + +<p>"Patty was charming, of course, charming," he went on, smiling across +at Mrs. Ladue. "Yes, much as she is now, with the same charm; the same +charm, in moderation."</p> + +<p>His eyes were very merry as he finished, and Mrs. Ladue laughed +gently.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span>"Oh, Doctor," she said, "I ought not to laugh—at Patty. It's your +fault."</p> + +<p>Doctor Beatty looked horror-struck. "Laugh at Patty!" he exclaimed. +"Never! Nothing further from my intention. I only run on, like a +babbling brook. I'm really not responsible for what I say. No +significance to be attached to any observations I may make. You won't +mind, will you?"</p> + +<p>"I won't mind," Mrs. Ladue agreed. "I don't."</p> + +<p>"Thank you. I knew you wouldn't." Doctor Beatty rose and stood for a +moment with his hand on the knob of the door. "You're all right for a +couple of weeks anyway, or I'd warn you to keep your liver on the job. +I always give that advice to Patty, partly because she needs it and +partly because it is amusing to witness the starting of a certain +train of emotions. Good-bye."</p> + +<p>And the doctor went out, leaving Mrs. Ladue smiling to herself. She +had forgotten about Charlie.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_VII2" id="CHAPTER_VII2"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER VII<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>Sally graduated from her school in the following June. Of all the +persons immediately concerned in that affair, even including Sally +herself, I am inclined to believe that Mr. Hazen was the most acutely +interested. He was not excited over it. A man of his age does not +easily get excited, even if he is of an excitable disposition, which +Mr. Hazen was not; but there is reason to think that he had all the +hopes and fears which Sally ought to have had, but of which she gave +no sign. She had confidence in herself and had no doubts to speak of. +At any rate, she did not speak of any, but took the whole thing as a +matter of course and one to be gone through with in its due season. +For that matter, nobody suspected Mr. Hazen of harboring fears, +although it was taken for granted that he had hopes. He gave no +outward sign of perturbation, and his fondness for Sally was no +secret.</p> + +<p>There was never, at that school, any long period without its little +diversions. Jane Spencer, to be sure, was in the graduating class and +his behavior had been most exemplary for some months; but there was no +such inhibition on the behavior of Ollie Pilcher and the Carlings. The +Carlings appeared one morning with grotesquely high collars, at the +sight of which a titter ran about the schoolroom. The Carlings +preserved an admirable gravity. Mr. MacDalie looked up, eyed the twins +with marked displeasure, but said nothing, and the titter gradually +faded out. The Carlings were aggrieved and felt that they had been +guilty of a failure. So they had, in a measure, and Sally could not +help feeling sorry for them. She reflected that Jane would never have +done anything of that kind. Jane would never have made a failure of +anything that he undertook, either. Jane <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span>would not have done what +Ollie Pilcher did, later, although that effort of Ollie's was a +conspicuous success, after its kind.</p> + +<p>It was the fashion, among certain of the boys, to have their hair +clipped when the warm weather came on. Everett Morton had never had it +done, nor had Dick Torrington, nor did Jane Spencer. They were not in +the clipped-hair caste. But Ollie Pilcher was; and it was no surprise +to the other boys when, a week before school closed, Ollie came with +clipped hair showing below his cap. He was just in time, and he went +at once and in haste to the schoolroom, removing his cap as he entered +the door. The bell in Mr. MacDalie's hand rang as he took his seat.</p> + +<p>Mr. MacDalie was not looking at Ollie, as it happened, but those +behind Ollie could not help seeing him. A ripple of laughter started; +it grew as more of those present caught sight of him. Mr. MacDalie saw +him. He chuckled wildly and the laughter swelled into a roar. Rising +from the top of Ollie's head of clipped hair was a diminutive braided +lock about three inches long, tied with a bow of narrow red ribbon. +And Ollie did not even smile while Mr. MacDalie was wiping his eyes +before him. His self-control was most admirable.</p> + +<p>The laughter finally subsided, for the time being, sufficiently to +permit King Ahasuerus and Queen Esther and Mordecai and Haman to hold +their audience spellbound for five minutes. That same audience had +been held spellbound by that same story throughout the whole of the +year just past and through other years; for Mr. MacDalie, for some +reason known only to himself and which Sally had tried in vain to +guess, had confined his reading so completely to the Book of Esther +that his hearers knew the book pretty nearly by heart.</p> + +<p>Although an unnatural solemnity prevailed through the reading, the +laughter would break out afresh at intervals during the morning. Mr. +MacDalie himself resolutely avoided looking in Ollie's direction as +long as he remembered. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span>But he would forget, becoming absorbed in his +teaching, and his eye would light upon Ollie; and forthwith he would +fall to chuckling wildly and to wiping his eyes, and be unable to +continue for some minutes. He said nothing to Ollie, however, although +that youngster expected a severe reprimand, at least. It is not +unlikely that that was the very reason why he did not get it. The next +day the braided lock was gone.</p> + +<p>These were mere frivolities, perhaps unworthy of being recorded; and +there may seem to be an undue prominence given to mental comparisons +with Jane. But just at this time there was a good deal of Jane in +everything, and whatever was done by anybody naturally suggested to +Sally a comparison with what Jane would do. Sally was not without her +share of romance, which was, perhaps, more in evidence at this age +than at any other. She was just past sixteen, and she happened to be +devoted, at this period, to her English history. She is to be excused +for her flights of imagination, in which she saw Jane's ancestry +traced back, without a break, to the beginning of the fourteenth +century; and if the two Spencers of that time were not very creditable +ancestors, why, history sometimes distorts things, and if Edward II +had chanced to prevail over his wife and son, its verdict might have +been different. Jane was not responsible for his ancestors anyway.</p> + +<p>Everybody was present at the graduation exercises; everybody, that is, +of consequence in Whitby who was not prevented from being present by +illness. I allude more especially to the older generation, to the +generation of parents. All the mothers, not only of the members of the +graduating class, but of any members of any class and even of +prospective members, were there because they liked to be; the fathers +were there because they thought they ought to be. And there were many +besides, of a different generation, who were there for one reason or +another. Mr. Hazen was one of these and Everett Morton was another.</p> + +<p>It was easy to account for Mr. Hazen's presence, but not <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span>so easy to +account for Everett's, except that he was not doing much of anything +and thought the exercises might prove to be a diversion. Everett spent +his time, for the most part, in the pursuit of diversion. He was +through college. That does not mean that he had graduated, but, as he +said, it meant that he had left it in his sophomore year, upon the +breaking-out of the Spanish War, to volunteer; and after a hollow and +bloodless campaign in Porto Rico, he had returned, well smeared with +glory. Fortunately—or unfortunately, as you look at it—he had +escaped the camps. He did not think it worth while to go back to +college, and between ourselves, the faculty agreed with him +completely. It was the only instance of such agreement in the history +of their connection. Then he had got a place in a broker's office +which he held for a year and a half, but he had found it not to his +liking and he had given it up. Then came a long interval when his only +occupation seemed to be the pursuit of diversion. This was in the +interval. No doubt he managed to capture, occasionally, the elusive +diversion which he pursued so persistently, and no doubt, too, it was +of much the kind that is usual in such cases; but, one would think, he +found the pursuit of it an occupation more strenuous than that of the +broker's office.</p> + +<p>Dick could not come, for he was to have a graduation of his own in a +short time; in fact, it was hardly more than a few days. But he sent +Sally a little note, regretting that he could not be present and +wishing her luck; and further and more important, he asked if she and +her mother or Miss Patty or all of them would not come up to Cambridge +for his Class Day.</p> + +<p>Sally had got Dick's note just as they were starting. She handed it to +her mother, her gray eyes soft with pleasure—as they had got into the +habit of being, these last few years.</p> + +<p>"See, mother, dear," she said, "what Dick has asked. Do you suppose we +can go, mother, or would it be too much for you? I should like to +go."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span>Mrs. Ladue smiled fondly at her daughter. "Of course you would, +darling. I'll see what Patty says, but I guess you can go. Perhaps, if +Patty doesn't want to, I can get Doctor Beatty to let me. I believe I +should like it myself. Now, don't let the prospect make you forget +your part."</p> + +<p>"No danger," replied Sally reassuringly. "Now I must run."</p> + +<p>Sally had the valedictory, or whatever it is to which the first +scholar in the class is entitled. I am not versed in such matters, not +having been concerned, at my graduation, with the duties or the +privileges of the first scholar of the class. But Sally had kept her +place at the head of a dwindling class with no difficulty and Mr. +MacDalie expected great things of her. She acquitted herself as well +as was expected, which is saying a good deal; and after the exercises +were over, she went out with Jane Spencer, leaving her mother and +Uncle John and Mr. MacDalie talking together. Patty was talking with +Doctor Beatty, who had come in late.</p> + +<p>Patty glanced up at Doctor Beatty with a smile. "Does that remind you +of anything?" she asked gently, nodding in Sally's direction.</p> + +<p>It is to be feared that the doctor was not paying attention. "What?" +He brought his chair and his gaze down together. He had been tilting +back in the chair and looking at the ceiling. "What? Sally? Her foot, +perhaps,—but that's all right years ago and it isn't likely that you +meant that. No, Patty, I give it up. What's the answer?"</p> + +<p>Miss Patty was disappointed. Perhaps she ought to have got used to +being disappointed by Meriwether Beatty, by this time, but she hadn't. +She sighed a little.</p> + +<p>"No, I didn't mean her foot. I meant her wandering off with Eugene +Spencer. He's the handsomest boy in the class. Doesn't it remind you +of—of our own graduation and our wandering away—so?"</p> + +<p>The doctor roared. "That was a good many years ago, Patty." It was +unkind of him to remind her of that. "You <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span>couldn't expect me to +remember the circumstances. I believe I am losing my memory; from old +age, Patty, old age." That was more unkind still, for Patty was but a +few months younger than he, and he knew it and she knew that he knew +it. "So we wandered away, did we?"</p> + +<p>Sally did not hear this conversation, for she was already halfway +downstairs with Jane. Neither of them had spoken.</p> + +<p>"Jane," she said suddenly.</p> + +<p>A shadow of annoyance crossed his face. "Sally," he mildly protested, +"I wish you wouldn't call me Jane—if you don't mind."</p> + +<p>"Why," returned Sally in surprise, "don't you like it? I supposed you +did. Of course I won't call you by a name you don't like. I'm very +sorry. Eugene, then?"</p> + +<p>"If you will. It's rather better than Jane, but it's bad enough."</p> + +<p>Sally laughed. "You're hard to please. How would it do for me to call +you Hugh—or Earl Spencer. Or, no. I'd have to call you your Grace." +She stopped and made him a curtsy; Jane was not to be outdone and, +although taken somewhat off his guard, he made her a bow with as much +grace as even Piers Gaveston could have put into it.</p> + +<p>"Your Highness does me too much honor," he replied solemnly; and they +both laughed from sheer high spirits. "No, Sally, you're wrong," he +added. "The old gentleman was no relative of mine. But I believe I +interrupted you. What were you going to say—right first off, you +know, when I asked you not to call me Jane?"</p> + +<p>"I was going to tell you that Dick Torrington has asked me to go up +for his Class Day."</p> + +<p>"Dick Torrington!" exclaimed Jane, mystified. "Why, Sally, he's ever +so much older than you."</p> + +<p>"Now, Jane, what has—I beg your pardon,—Eugene, but it's hard to +remember. But, Eugene, what has the difference in age to do with it? +It has never seemed to make any difference to Dick. You know that he's +as kind as he can be and probably he just thought that I would enjoy +it."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span>They had passed through the crowded corridor—crowded because, in one +of the rooms on that floor, there was in preparation what the papers +would call a modest collation—and they were out in the yard. Jane +stopped short and looked at Sally with a puzzled expression.</p> + +<p>"I wonder, Sally," he said slowly, "if you know—but you evidently +don't," he added. He seemed relieved at the result of his inspection. +"Of course you'll go, but I can't help wishing you wouldn't."</p> + +<p>"Why?" she asked. "I mean to go if I can. Why would you rather I +wouldn't?"</p> + +<p>He hesitated for some moments. "I don't know that I can tell you. +Perhaps you'll understand sometime. Hello! What do you suppose they've +got?"</p> + +<p>Ollie Pilcher and the Carlings passed rapidly across their line of +vision.</p> + +<p>"Furtive sort of manner," continued Jane hurriedly. "I'll bet they're +hiding something. Let's see what it is. What do you say, Sally?"</p> + +<p>Sally nodded and they ran, coming upon the three suddenly. The +Carlings started guiltily and seemed about to say something; but +although they had opened their mouths, no speech issued.</p> + +<p>"Sing it, you twins. What have you got? Come, pony up. We spotted you. +Or perhaps you want the free-lunch committee to swoop down on you."</p> + +<p>If Sally had not been there the result might have been different. No +doubt Jane had made allowance for the moral effect of her presence. +The Carlings, severally, were still her slaves; or they would have +been if she had let them. They grinned sheepishly and Horry drew +something from under his jacket. It was done up in paper, but there +was no mistaking it.</p> + +<p>Jane reached forth an authoritative hand. Ollie remonstrated. "I say, +Jane,—"</p> + +<p>"Filcher," remarked Jane, "for filcher you are, although you may have +persuaded these poor innocent boys to do the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span>actual filching—Filcher, +you'd better suspend further remarks. Otherwise I shall feel obliged to +divide this pie into quarters instead of fifths. Quarters are much +easier. It is a pie, I feel sure; a squash pie, I do not doubt. Is it +quarters or fifths, Filcher?"</p> + +<p>As Jane was in possession of the pie, Ollie thought it the part of +discretion to compromise. A clump of lilacs hid them from the +schoolhouse, and Jane divided the pie, which proved to be filled with +raisins, into five parts with his knife.</p> + +<p>"I wish to congratulate you, Horry, upon your excellent care of this +pie in transit." He passed the plate to Horry as he spoke. "No, this +is your piece, Horry. That piece is destined for me. In view of the +unavoidable inequality of the pieces, we will give Filcher the plate."</p> + +<p>Sally was chuckling as she ate her piece of pie, which she held in her +hand.</p> + +<p>"Th—th—this w—w—weath—ther's t—t—terrible h—h—hard on +p—p—pies," observed Horry thoughtfully, after a long silence.</p> + +<p>"It w—w—wouldn't k—k—keep," said Harry, wiping his mouth on the +back of his hand.</p> + +<p>"It wouldn't," Jane agreed.</p> + +<p>Ollie was scraping the plate. "Can't get any more out of that plate," +he sighed at last; and he scaled the tin plate into an inaccessible +place between the lilacs and the fence.</p> + +<p>They moved away slowly. "I wonder," Jane remarked, reflectively, "who +sent that pie."</p> + +<p>Sally chuckled again. "Cousin Patty sent it," she said.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_VIII2" id="CHAPTER_VIII2"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER VIII<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>Sally found that summer very full. To begin with, there was Dick's +Class Day, which was her first great occasion. I do not know what +better to call it and it must have been a great occasion for her, for, +although it did not last very long,—days never do,—the memory of it +has not completely faded even yet; and it was twelve years ago.</p> + +<p>As if to make her joy complete, her mother had gone and Miss Patty had +not. Not that Sally had ever the least conscious objection to Miss +Patty's going anywhere, but Patty always acted as a sort of damper +upon too much joy. Poor Patty! She had not the slightest wish to be a +sort of a damper and she did not suspect that she was.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ladue was no damper. She had sat in Dick's particular easy-chair, +very smiling and content, while Dick brought things to eat and to +drink to her and to Sally in the window-seat. And there had been a +puzzled look in Dick's eyes all the time that made Mrs. Ladue laugh +and made Sally blush whenever she saw it. It was as if Dick's eyes had +just been opened; and he found it hard to realize that the blossoming +young creature in his window-seat was the same Sally that he had known +so well. That and other considerations will explain Mrs. Ladue's +laughter well enough, but hardly explain why Sally should have +blushed. I don't know why she did and I doubt if she could have told.</p> + +<p>Then—for Dick's Class Day was only to begin with—there were his +further good-natured attentions, which did not mean anything, of +course, Mrs. Ladue told herself, over and over. Of course Dick liked +Sally—who would not? And there was more fun in doing anything for her +than in doing it for anybody else, for Sally enjoyed everything <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span>so +much. Dick even took her sailing half a dozen times, although there +was nobody else on his parties younger than his sister Emily. And +there was Jane; but not on Dick's sailing parties.</p> + +<p>Jane's attentions to Sally were constant and rather jealous. How could +he help it? Dick was five years older than he, and, at seventeen, five +years is a tremendous advantage and one not to be made up by a +difference in natural gifts, concerning which there could be no doubt +either. Sally had some difficulty in keeping Jane pacified. She may +have made no conscious effort to that end, but she accomplished it, +none the less.</p> + +<p>When fall came, Sally went away to Normal School. It was not far from +Whitby, so that she was always within reach, but she had to be away +from home—Uncle John Hazen's was really home now—for the greater +part of two years. Her absence was a great grief to Uncle John, +although nobody suspected it but Sally. It would never have occurred +to Patty that it could make much difference to her father whether +Sally was here or there. Indeed, she did not think of it at all, being +more than ever engrossed in Charlie's career; and Charlie was in need +of a friend, although that friend was not Miss Patty.</p> + +<p>Another person who missed Sally's presence, if one could judge from +his behavior, was Jane Spencer. To be sure, it could have made little +difference to him that she was no longer in Whitby, except that +Whitby, although farther from Cambridge than Schoolboro', was easier +to get to. Nevertheless, as soon as Jane could snatch a day from his +arduous academic duties, he went to Schoolboro' and not to Whitby. +That was hardly a month after Sally had gone there, and she was +unaffectedly glad to see him. Therefore, Jane enjoyed his visit +immensely, and he made other visits, which were also to his immense +satisfaction, as often as Sally would let him come. There were four +that year.</p> + +<p>In November of her second year, Sally was called home unexpectedly by +an incoherent summons from Patty. She <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span>hurried home, filled with fears +and misgivings. What had happened to Charlie? She had no doubt that +Charlie was at the bottom of it, somehow, or it would not have been +Patty who sent the message. Had he had an accident? But Charlie +himself met her at the door, looking sulky and triumphant.</p> + +<p>Patty was almost hysterical, and it was a long time before Sally could +make out what was the matter. It seemed that Charlie had been +subjected to the usual mild hazing and, proving a refractory subject, +he had had his hands and feet strapped together and had been left +lying helpless in the yard. That was a final indignity, reserved for +boys who had earned the thorough dislike of their fellows, Sally knew. +She was deeply mortified.</p> + +<p>Her lips were compressed in the old way that she had almost forgotten.</p> + +<p>"I will settle it, Cousin Patty. It won't take long."</p> + +<p>Patty had, perhaps, mistaken the meaning of Sally's expression. At all +events, Sally looked very decided, which Patty was not.</p> + +<p>"Oh, will you, Sally? I felt sure that you would be touched by +Charlie's sufferings. He is your brother, you know, and—and all +that," she finished, ineffectively, as she was painfully aware.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Sally replied, still with that compression of the lips, "he +is." She had been about to say more, but had thought better of it.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Patty, after waiting some time for Sally to say what she +had decided not to, "thank you, Sally. Nobody else could attend to it +so well as you." At which speech Sally smiled rather grimly, if a girl +of seventeen can smile grimly. Her smile was as grim as the +circumstances would allow.</p> + +<p>She found Charlie suspiciously near the door.</p> + +<p>"Will you go and see old Mac, Sally? Will you?"</p> + +<p>"You come into the back parlor with me, Charlie," Sally answered, "and +I'll tell you what I'll do."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span>When Charlie emerged, half an hour later, he was sulkier than ever, +but he was no longer triumphant. Sally went back to school that same +night. Patty did not summon her again. Sally had a way of settling +things which Miss Patty did not altogether like.</p> + +<p>Now it chanced that Jane chose the next day for one of his visits. It +was not a happy chance. The day itself was dull and gloomy and chilly +and Sally had not yet got over the settling of Charlie. Jane, to be +sure, did not know about Charlie, but it would have made no difference +if he had known about him. Sally greeted him with no enthusiasm; it +almost seemed to Jane that she would rather not have seen him.</p> + +<p>He looked at her in surprise. "What's the matter, Sally?" he asked. +"Why this—this apathy?" He had been about to call it indifference, +but decided against it.</p> + +<p>Jane was not without wisdom, if he did not show much of it on this +particular day. If it had been the case of another and that other had +asked his advice, he would have advised him to drop it all and go home +again. But, in our own cases, we are all more or less fools. Therefore +Jane did not drop it all and go home.</p> + +<p>Sally did not smile. "I don't know, Jane," she replied. "There's +nothing in particular the matter." Sally had given up the attempt to +break the Jane habit and Jane had given up objecting.</p> + +<p>"Well?" he asked, after waiting vainly for her to propose a walk. +"Shall we go for our usual walk? You know you don't like to stay in, +and neither do I."</p> + +<p>"I think," said Sally, "that I don't like anything to-day, so what +does it matter?" Surely Jane should have taken warning and run. "We'll +go out if you like."</p> + +<p>Jane looked at her doubtfully, but said nothing, which was probably +the best thing he could have said; and they went out, walking side by +side, in silence, until they came to a little stream which was +dignified by the name of "The River." There was a path along the bank. +That path by <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span>the river was much frequented at other seasons, but now +the trees that overhung it were bare and the wind sighed mournfully +through the branches, after its journey across the desolate marsh +beyond. On such a day it was not a place to cheer drooping spirits. It +did not cheer Sally's.</p> + +<p>Jane's spirit began to be affected. He looked at Sally anxiously, but +she gave no sign of ever meaning to say another word.</p> + +<p>"Sally!" he said.</p> + +<p>She glanced at him and tried to smile, but she made no great success +of it.</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Now, what is the matter, Sally? Won't you tell me?"</p> + +<p>"There's nothing the matter, Jane. I'm simply not in very good +spirits."</p> + +<p>"Sally," said poor Jane softly, "please cheer up and be light-hearted. +This isn't like you at all."</p> + +<p>"I can't help it," Sally answered, sighing. "I've tried. It doesn't +happen to me often. I'm not good company, am I?"</p> + +<p>"You're always good company for me," Jane said simply. Sally did not +seem to hear. "Try a pleasant expression," he continued, after a +pause, "and see what that does to your spirits."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said she coldly, "for nothing." Then she changed +suddenly. "I beg your pardon again, Eugene. I was getting +ill-tempered. Would you have me put on a pleasant expression when I +don't feel like it?"</p> + +<p>He nodded, smiling. "To see the effect upon your spirits."</p> + +<p>"As if I were having my photograph taken?" Sally went on, "A sort of +'keep smiling' expression? Think how absurd people would look if they +went about grinning."</p> + +<p>"There is a certain difference between grinning and smiling," Jane +replied, "although I can't define it. And you would not look absurd, +Sally, whatever you did."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I would," Sally said, more cheerfully than she had spoken +yet, "and so would you. No doubt I am absurd very often; as absurd as +you are now."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span>Jane sighed heavily. "I've never seen it, Sally, although I should +like to see you absurd in the same way that I am now. I long to. You +couldn't be, I suppose."</p> + +<p>There was no answer to this remark. Waiting for one and listening, +Jane heard only the sighing of the wind across the desolate marsh and +in the trees, and the soft noise of the water flowing past. Poor Jane +was very wretched, largely, no doubt, because of the dreary day and +because Sally was wretched. He did not stop to ask why. Then he did +something which was very unwise. Even he, in more sober moments, +acknowledged its unwisdom. But, after all, would it have made any +great difference if the circumstances had been different—Sally being +what she was? I think not. Jane thought not.</p> + +<p>Jane leaned a little nearer. "Sally," he said softly, "can't you like +me a little? Can't you—"</p> + +<p>Sally looked up in surprise. "Why, Jane," she replied simply—and +truthfully, "I do like you. You know it."</p> + +<p>"But, Sally,"—Jane's heart was pounding so that he could not keep the +sound of it out of his voice, and his voice was unsteady enough +without that,—"but, Sally, can't you—can't you care for me? I—I +love you, Sally. I couldn't keep it to myself any longer. I—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>Jane</i>!" Sally was the picture of dismay; utter and absolute +dismay. She had withdrawn from him a little. And she had forgotten the +state of her spirits. She was startled out of her apathy. "I didn't +know you were going to say that. Why, oh, why did you? What made you?"</p> + +<p>"I simply had to. I have been holding it in as long as I could, and I +couldn't see you feeling so, without—well, I had to." Jane spoke more +rapidly now. "And, Sally, I realize the absurdity of asking you now, +when I am not half through college and you are not through school, but +we could wait—couldn't we?—and if you only felt as I do, it would be +easier. I am—I shall have some money and I—"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span>With an impatient wave of her hand Sally brushed all that aside.</p> + +<p>"That is of no consequence," she said,—"of no sort of consequence. +But why did you do it, Jane? Oh, why did you? You have spoiled it all. +I suppose we can't be good friends any more." There were tears in her +eyes.</p> + +<p>"I can't see why." Jane regarded her for some while without speaking. +Sally, I suppose, had nothing to say. "Does that mean," he asked at +last, "that you don't care for me in the way that I want?"</p> + +<p>"I should think you would know," replied Sally gently.</p> + +<p>"And—and you can't?"</p> + +<p>Sally shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Not ever?"</p> + +<p>Sally shook her head again.</p> + +<p>Jane stood, for a minute, gazing out over the desolate marsh. Then he +drew a long breath and turned.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, smiling mirthlessly and raising his hat, "shall +I—shall we go back?"</p> + +<p>Sally was angry, but I don't know what for. "No," she was decided +about it; much more decided than was at all necessary. "You need not +trouble to go back with me."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Jane. He smiled again and flushed slowly. "Then, if you +will excuse me, I will go to the station."</p> + +<p>So Jane was gone—or going—with head held high and a flush on his +face. He did not look back. Sally, as she watched him go, had a +revulsion of feeling and would have called to him. To what end? She +could not change her answer. And the sound died on her lips and she +stamped her foot angrily, and watched him out of sight. Then she fled +to her room and wept. Why, I wonder? Sally did not know. Suddenly she +had lost something out of her life. What? Sally did not know that +either. It was not Jane she wept for. Whatever it was, she knew that +she could never get it back again; never, never.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="BOOK_III" id="BOOK_III"></a><a name="CHAPTER_I3" id="CHAPTER_I3"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span><br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<h2>BOOK III</h2> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span><br /> +<hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER I<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>Mrs. Ladue was sitting in her room with a letter in her lap. The +letter was unfinished and it seemed likely that it might not be +finished; not, at any rate, unless Mrs. Ladue brought her wandering +thoughts back to it, although, to be sure, her thoughts may have had +more to do with it than appeared. She was gazing absently out of the +window and in her eyes there was a look both tender and sad; a look +that said plainly that her thoughts were far away and that she was +recalling some things—pleasant things and sad—dwelling upon them +with fond recollection, no doubt. It was a pity that she had not more +things which could be dwelt upon with fond recollection; but it may be +that she was dwelling fondly upon the recollection of what might have +been. There is much comfort to be got out of that kind of recollection +even if it is not very real.</p> + +<p>What was before her eyes was the Lot covered with untouched snow +billowed by the high wind and glistening, here and there, where that +same wind had hardened and polished the surface into a fine crust. +There was the same high wall, its cement covering a trifle less +smooth, perhaps, than it had been when Sally first saw it, but giving +a scant foothold even yet. And the wall was capped, as it had been +since it was built, with its projecting wooden roof, more +weather-beaten than ever and with the moulding on the under edges +warped away a trifle more, but still holding. There was snow upon that +old roof in patches, but the wind had swept most of it clean. And over +it all was a dull, leaden sky with more snow in it.</p> + +<p>Although all this was before her eyes, she may not have seen any of +it; probably she had not. Judging from her look, it was something +quite different that she saw. It may have <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span>been the early years of her +marriage—very early years they must have been and very far away +now—when Professor Ladue was still good to her and she still believed +in him. Or, perhaps, she was passing in review the many kindnesses of +Uncle John Hazen and Patty. For Patty had been kind in her own way; +and what other way could she use? Every one of us has to be kind or +unkind in his own way, after all, in accordance with the natures God +has given us. Perhaps Mrs. Ladue was thinking of Doctor Galen's +care—four years of it—or of Fox's goodness. Fox had not got over +being good to them yet. And she called down blessings on his head and +sighed a tremulous sigh, and looked down at the letter which she had +held in her hand all this time, and she began to read it again, +although she had already read it over twice.</p> + +<p>She had not got very far with her reading when the front door opened +and shut. At the sound of it Mrs. Ladue came back, with a start, to +the present. She flushed slightly and made a motion as if to hide the +letter hastily; but she thought better of it instantly, and she held +the letter in her hand, as she had done for some time. But the flush +grew and flooded her face with color. And the wave of color receded, +according to the manner of waves, and left her face unnaturally pale. +There was the sound of steps on the stairs and the door of the room +opened and Sally came in.</p> + +<p>A breath of the cold still clung about her. "Well, mother, dear," she +said, stooping for a kiss, "here I am, at last. I thought I never +should get out to-day."</p> + +<p>"Some poor infants have to stay after?" asked her mother. "How cold +you are, Sally! Is it as bleak and dreary as it looks?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no. It's nice enough, after you've been out a few minutes. At +least it's fresh, and that's something, after hours of a schoolroom. +And I don't teach infants, if you please, madam."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ladue laughed quietly. "It's all the same to me, Sally," she +replied. "I don't know the difference."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span>Sally sat down on the bed; which was a very reprehensible old habit +that she had never been able to shake off. Not that she had ever +tried.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to get something done about the ventilation," she observed +decidedly; "at least in my room. It's wicked to make children breathe +such air." She glanced at the letter which her mother still held. +"Been writing letters, mother? Who to—if you don't mind my asking?"</p> + +<p>"'Who to,' Sally! A fine schoolmarm you are!" said Mrs. Ladue, +smiling, in mock reproach. "I hope that is not the example you set."</p> + +<p>Sally laughed lightly. "It was pretty bad, wasn't it? But there are +times when even the schoolmarm must relax. It hasn't got into my blood +yet, and I'm not a universal compendium. But I noticed that you didn't +answer my question. You may have objected to its form. To whom is your +letter written?"</p> + +<p>"Well," her mother answered, hesitating a little, "it isn't written +yet. That is, it isn't finished. It is to Fox. Don't you want to add +something, dear? Just a few lines? I have asked him if he doesn't want +to come on—and bring Henrietta, of course. See, there is room at the +end."</p> + +<p>Sally took the letter, but she could not have read more than the first +two or three lines when she glanced up, with a little half smile of +surprise and amusement.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I had better not read it, mother, dear," she said gently. +"Did you mean that I should?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," Mrs. Ladue answered carelessly, "read it if you like. There +is nothing in my letters to Fox that I want to keep secret from you, +Sally."</p> + +<p>There was the same little half smile of amusement on Sally's lips as +she read, and a sort of suppressed twinkle in her eyes. If you wanted +to know what Sally's thoughts were—what kind of thoughts—you would +soon have got into the habit of watching her eyes. They were merry and +grave and appealing and solemn and tender and reproachful and +thoughtful and disapproving, according to the need of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span>the hour, +although they were seldom solemn or sad now. I suppose the need of the +hour did not lie in that direction now; at least, not nearly so often +as it had, ten years before. Sally's eyes were well worth watching +anyway. They were gray and rather solemn, normally, shaded by long, +dark lashes, and gave the impression of darkness and depth; but when +she was stirred to anger, whether righteous or not, they could be as +cold and as hard as steel. But enough of Sally's eyes. Too much, no +doubt.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ladue's reflections, as Sally read, might be supposed to have +been rather disquieting. They were not. Presently she laughed. "The +letter may seem queer," she said, "but you must remember that I have +not seen Fox for four years, and I want to see him. I got very fond of +Fox in my years at Doctor Galen's."</p> + +<p>Sally looked up. "Of course you did, mother, dear. Of course you did. +It would be very strange if you had not. I am fond of him, too."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ladue smiled in reply and Sally returned to her reading. She +began again at the beginning, with the "Dear Fox."</p> + +<p>"Dear Fox:" she read. She was not reading aloud. "To begin with what +should come last, according to all the rules, in a woman's letter, I +want to see you. It is the sole purpose of this letter to tell you +that, so you need not look for the important matter in a postscript. +It won't be there, for it is here. Do you know that it is nearly four +years since you were here? Is there no matter in connection with my +trifling affairs that will serve as an excuse—or is any excuse +needed? Can't you and Henrietta come on for a long visit? I know the +engagements of a doctor—such a doctor, Fox!—are heavy and that I am +very selfish to ask it. Sally would be as glad as I should be to see +you both here, I am sure. I will ask her to add a few lines to this +when she comes in. She has not got back from school yet.</p> + +<p>"Sally seems to be quite happy in her teaching. I remember when she +got her first month's salary—she got a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span>position right away, with Mr. +MacDalie—she came flying into the house and met Uncle John in the +hall—I was halfway down the stairs—and threw her arms around his +neck. The dear old man was startled, as he might well have been. I may +have told you all this before. If I have, don't read it. Well, he was +startled, as I said, but he smiled his lovely, quiet smile.</p> + +<p>"'Bless me, Sally!' he said. 'What's happened? What's the matter?'</p> + +<p>"'This is the matter,' she cried, waving something about, somewhere +behind his ear. 'I've got my salary. And it's all my own and the first +money I ever earned in my whole life.'</p> + +<p>"The dear old man smiled again—or rather he hadn't stopped smiling. +'Bless your heart!' he said. 'What a terribly long time to wait, isn't +it? But it's hardly true that it is the first money you ever earned. +The first you ever were paid, perhaps, but you've been earning it for +years, my dear, for years.'</p> + +<p>"Sally kissed him. 'I'm afraid you're partial, Uncle John. But do you +know what I'm going to do with my munificent salary?'</p> + +<p>"Uncle John shook his head.</p> + +<p>"'I should like to pay it to you, on account,' said Sally. 'Oh, I'm +not going to,' she added hastily, seeing that he looked hurt, 'but I'm +going to pay for all my clothes, after this, and mother's and +Charlie's. I'm afraid it won't do much more, yet awhile, but give us +pocket-money.'</p> + +<p>"'Very well, Sally, if that will give you pleasure,' said Uncle John. +'I like to pay for your clothes, my dear, but just as you please.'</p> + +<p>"Those are sentiments which a girl does not often hear. Have you, +perhaps, said to somebody—but I won't ask. Sally's salary is enough +to do much more than pay for our clothes now.</p> + +<p>"Charlie goes to college this next fall. I think there is little or no +doubt of his getting in. He did very well with his <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span>preliminaries last +June. He is very bright, I think, but I sometimes tremble to think of +all that lies before him. Do you realize, Fox, that Sally is almost +twenty-one and that it is ten years—almost ten years—since that +terrible time when—"</p> + +<p>The letter broke off here. That last sentence must have started Mrs. +Ladue upon her gazing out of the window.</p> + +<p>Sally looked up soberly. "I'll add my request to yours, if you like," +she remarked; "but it's hardly likely that Fox will come just because +we ask him—in the middle of winter. He must be very busy. But I hope +he'll come. I should dearly like to see him—and Henrietta, of +course—" She interrupted herself.</p> + +<p>"Have you spoken to Patty about Fox, mother?" she asked,—"about his +coming here?"</p> + +<p>Her mother smiled whimsically. "Not exactly to Patty," she replied. "I +spoke to Uncle John."</p> + +<p>"That is the same thing, in effect," said Sally, chuckling. "Much the +same thing, but speaking to Patty might save her self-respect."</p> + +<p>"I thought," Mrs. Ladue suggested gently, "that if the idea seemed to +come from Uncle John it would do that. It is a little difficult to +convince Patty and—and I didn't like to seem to press the matter."</p> + +<p>Sally bent forward and kissed her. "I beg your pardon," she said. "No +doubt you are right."</p> + +<p>She took the pen and wrote a few lines in her firm, clear hand. Then +she tossed the letter into her mother's lap and sat silent, gazing out +of the window, in her turn, at the old, familiar wall and at the snow +beyond.</p> + +<p>"Mother," she asked suddenly, "what would you do—what would you like +to do if father should happen to turn up?"</p> + +<p>Her mother was startled out of her usual calm. Her hand went up +instinctively to her heart and she flushed and grew pale again and she +looked frightened.</p> + +<p>"Why, Sally," she said. She seemed to have trouble with <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span>her +breathing. "Why, Sally, he hasn't—you don't mean—"</p> + +<p>Apparently she could not go on. "No, no," Sally assured her hastily, +"he hasn't. At least, he hasn't that I know of."</p> + +<p>"Oh." It was evidently a great relief to Mrs. Ladue to know that he +hadn't. The tears gathered in her eyes and dropped slowly upon the +open letter in her hand as she spoke. "I—thought—I thought +that—that—perhaps—"</p> + +<p>Sally understood. "Oh, mother, dear, I only wanted to know what you +would do—what you would want to do. The thought occurred to me +suddenly. I don't know why."</p> + +<p>"I don't know, Sally. I don't know. I suppose we ought to go back to +him. But I don't know."</p> + +<p>Sally laughed and her eyes were cold and hard. If Mr. Ladue had heard +that laugh and seen her eyes, I think he would not ask Sally to go +back to him. "Oh," she said lightly—but her voice was as hard as her +eyes—"oh, there is no doubt about what I would do. I would never go +back to him; never at all. You shouldn't, either, mother. So put that +bugaboo out of your mind. I hope he won't ever turn up, not ever."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ladue laughed and her laugh was ready and cheerful enough. "Oh, +Sally," she said, mildly remonstrating, "we ought not to say that. We +ought not even to think it."</p> + +<p>"We poor mortals seldom do as we ought, mother, dear," Sally replied +lightly. "You needn't have that fear a single minute longer."</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_II3" id="CHAPTER_II3"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER II<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>Much to Sally's surprise, Fox came on and he brought Henrietta.</p> + +<p>"Doctor Sanderson's engagements cannot be very pressing," she said to +him, smiling, as she gave him her hand, "to permit of his coming +several hundred miles merely to see two lone women."</p> + +<p>Now Doctor Sanderson's engagements, as it chanced, were rather +pressing; and it was a fair inference from Sally's words that she was +not as glad to see him as he wished and had hoped. But her smile +belied her words.</p> + +<p>"Miss Ladue forgets, perhaps," he replied, bowing rather formally, +"that most of our patients are women, lone or otherwise, and that it +is all in the way of business to travel several hundred miles to see +them—and to charge for it. Although there are not many that I would +take that trouble for," he added, under his breath. "So look out, +Sally," he concluded gayly, "and wait until our bill comes in."</p> + +<p>That sobered Sally. "Oh, Fox," she said, "we owe you enough already." +Which was not what he had bargained for. Sally was looking at him +thoughtfully and seemed to be calculating. "Perhaps," she began, "I +could manage to—"</p> + +<p>"Sally," he interrupted hastily—he seemed even fierce about +it—"Sally, I'd like to shake you."</p> + +<p>Sally laughed suddenly. "Why don't you?" she asked. "I've no doubt it +would do me good."</p> + +<p>"That's better," Fox went on, with evident satisfaction. "You seem to +be coming to your senses." Sally laughed again. "That's still better. +Now, aren't you glad to see me?"</p> + +<p>"Why, of course I am."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span>"Then, why didn't you say so?" he challenged. "Merely to gratify my +curiosity, tell me why you didn't."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you?" Sally retorted, still chuckling a little.</p> + +<p>Fox looked blank. "Didn't I? Is it possible that I omitted to state +such an obvious truth?"</p> + +<p>Sally nodded. She was looking past him. "Oh," she cried quickly, +"there's Henrietta."</p> + +<p>"Another obvious truth," he murmured, more to himself than to Sally. +"There's Henrietta."</p> + +<p>Henrietta came quickly forward; indeed, she was running. And Sally met +her. Sally was quick enough, but she seemed slow in comparison with +Henrietta.</p> + +<p>"Sally, dear!" exclaimed Henrietta, kissing her on both cheeks. "How +glad I am to see you! You can't imagine." Which was a statement +without warrant of fact. If there was one thing that Sally could do +better than another, it was to imagine. "Come up with me and show me +my room. I've an ocean of things to say to you. Fox will excuse us, I +know."</p> + +<p>"Fox will have to, I suppose," he said, "whether he wants to or not."</p> + +<p>"You see," laughed Henrietta, "he knows his place."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," Fox agreed. "I know my place."</p> + +<p>Sally had not seen Henrietta for four or five years. Henrietta was a +lively girl, small and dainty and very pretty. Her very motions were +like those of a butterfly, fluttering with no apparent aim and then +alighting suddenly and with great accuracy upon the very flower whose +sweetness she had meant, all along, to capture; but lightly and for a +moment. The simile is Sally's, not mine, and she thought of it at the +instant of greeting her; in fact, it was while Henrietta was kissing +her, and she could not help wondering whether Henrietta—But there she +stopped, resolutely. Such thoughts were uncharitable.</p> + +<p>In spite of Sally's wonderings, she was captivated by Henrietta's +daintiness and beauty. Sally never thought at <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span>all about her own +looks, although they deserved more than a thought; for—well, one +might have asked Jane Spencer or Richard Torrington, or even Fox, who +had just seen her for the first time in years. Or Everett Morton might +have been prevailed upon to give an opinion, although Everett's +opinion would have counted for little. He would have appraised her +good points as he would have appraised those of a horse or a dog; he +might even have compared her with his favorite horse, Sawny,—possibly +to the disadvantage of Sawny, although there is more doubt about that +than there should be,—or to his last year's car. But he was driving +Sawny now more than he was driving his car, for there was racing every +afternoon on the Cow Path by the members of the Gentlemen's Driving +Club. No, on the whole, I should not have advised going to Everett.</p> + +<p>Sally, I say, not being vain or given to thinking about her own looks, +thought Henrietta was the prettiest thing she had ever seen. So, when +Henrietta issued the command which has been recorded, Sally went +without a word of protest, leaving Fox and her mother standing in the +back parlor beside the table with its ancient stained and cut green +cloth. Fox was not looking at her, but at the doorway through which +Sally had just vanished.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said at last, turning to her, "I call that rather a cold +sort of a greeting, after four years."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ladue laughed softly. "What should she have done, you great boy?" +she asked. "Should she have fallen upon your neck and kissed you?"</p> + +<p>"Why, yes," Fox replied, "something of the sort. I shouldn't have +minded. I think it might have been rather nice. But I suppose it might +be a hard thing to do."</p> + +<p>"Fox," she protested, "you are wrong about Sally. She isn't cold at +all, not at all. She is as glad to see you as I am—almost. And I am +glad."</p> + +<p>"That is something to be grateful for, dear lady," he said. "I would +not have you think that I am not grateful—very grateful. It is one of +the blessings showered upon <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span>me by a very heedless providence," he +continued, smiling, "unmindful of my deserts."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Fox!" she protested. "Your deserts! If you had—"</p> + +<p>He interrupted gently. "I know. The earth ought to be laid at my feet. +I know what you think and I am grateful for that, too."</p> + +<p>To this there was no reply.</p> + +<p>"I think," he resumed reflectively, "that enough of the earth is laid +at my feet, as it is. I shall not be thirty until next fall." He spoke +with a note of triumph, which can easily be forgiven.</p> + +<p>"And I," she said, "am forty-three. Look at my gray hairs."</p> + +<p>He laughed. "Who would believe it? But what," he asked, "was the +special reason for your wanting to see me now? I take it there was a +special reason?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head. "There wasn't any <i>special</i> reason. I meant to +make that plain and I thought I had. I feel as if I ought to apologize +for asking you at all, for you may have felt under some obligation to +come just because you were asked. I hope you didn't, Fox, for—"</p> + +<p>Fox smiled quietly. His smile made her think of Uncle John Hazen. "I +didn't," he said.</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you didn't. Don't ever feel obliged to do anything for +me—for us." She corrected herself quickly. "We are grateful, too,—at +least, I am—for anything. No, there wasn't any special reason. I just +wanted to see you with my own eyes. Four years is a long time."</p> + +<p>Fox, who had almost reached the advanced age of thirty, was plainly +embarrassed.</p> + +<p>"Well," he asked, laughing a little, "now that you have seen me, what +do you think?"</p> + +<p>"That," she answered, still in her tone of gentle banter, "I shall not +tell you. It would not be good for you." A step was heard in the hall. +"Oh," she added, hastily, in a voice that was scarcely more than a +whisper, "here's Patty. Be nice to her, Fox."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span>However much—or little—Mrs. Ladue's command had to do with it, Fox +was as nice to Patty as he knew how to be. To be sure, Fox had had +much experience with just Patty's kind in the past four years, and he +had learned just the manner for her. It was involuntary on his part, +to a great extent, and poor Patty beamed and fluttered and was very +gracious. She even suggested something that she had had no expectation +of suggesting when she entered the room.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps, Mr. Sanderson," she said, with a slight inclination of her +head, "you would care to accompany us out on the harbor to-morrow +afternoon. It is frozen over, you know, and the ice is very thick. +There is no danger, I assure you. It doesn't happen every winter and +we make the most of it." She laughed a little, lightly. "The men—the +young men—race their horses there every afternoon. They usually race +on the Cow Path—Washington Street, no doubt I should call it, but we +still cling to the old names, among ourselves. These young men have +taken advantage of the unusual condition of the harbor and it is a +very pretty sight; all those horses flying along. We shall not race, +of course."</p> + +<p>If Sally had heard her, I doubt whether she would have been able to +suppress her chuckles at the idea of the Hazens' stout horse—the +identical horse that had drawn her on her first arrival—at the idea, +I say, of that plethoric and phlegmatic and somewhat aged animal's +competing with such a horse as Sawny, for example. Mrs. Ladue had some +difficulty in doing no more than smile.</p> + +<p>"Why, Patty," she began, in amazement, "were you—but I must not keep +Fox from answering."</p> + +<p>Patty had betrayed some uneasiness when Mrs. Ladue began to speak, +which is not to be wondered at. She quieted down.</p> + +<p>"I ought to have called you Doctor Sanderson," she observed, "ought I +not? I forgot, for the moment, the celebrity to which you have +attained." Again she inclined her head slightly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span>Fox laughed easily. "Call me anything you like," he replied. "As to +going with you to see the races, I accept with much pleasure, if you +can assure me that there is really no danger. I am naturally timid, +you know."</p> + +<p>Patty was in some doubt as to how to take this reply of Fox's; not in +much doubt, however. She laughed, too. "Are you, indeed?" she asked. +"It is considered quite safe, I do assure you."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ladue looked very merry, but Patty did not see her.</p> + +<p>"We will consider it settled, then," Patty concluded, with evident +satisfaction.</p> + +<p>On her way to her room, half an hour later, Mrs. Ladue met Patty on +the stairs.</p> + +<p>"Sarah," said Patty graciously, "I find Doctor Sanderson very +agreeable and entertaining; much more so than I had any idea."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ladue was outwardly as calm as usual, but inwardly she felt a +great resentment.</p> + +<p>"I am glad, Patty," she replied simply; and she escaped to her room, +where she found Sally and Henrietta.</p> + +<p>"Sally," she said abruptly, "what do you think? Patty has asked Fox to +go with us to see the racing to-morrow afternoon. I don't know who the +'us' is. She didn't say."</p> + +<p>Sally stared and broke into chuckling. "Oh, <i>mother</i>!" she cried.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_III3" id="CHAPTER_III3"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER III<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>Whitby has a beautiful harbor. It is almost land-locked, the entrance +all but closed by Ship Island, leaving only a narrow passage into the +harbor. That passage is wide enough and deep enough for steam-ships to +enter by; it is wide enough for ships of size to enter, indeed, if +they are sailed well enough and if there were any object in +sailing-ships of size entering Whitby Harbor. Many a ship has +successfully navigated Ship Island Channel under its own sail, but +that was before the days of steam.</p> + +<p>Before the days of steam Whitby had its shipping; and in the days of +shipping Whitby had its fleets of ships and barks and brigs and a +schooner or two. Although the industries of Whitby have changed, the +remnants of those fleets are active yet, or there would have been +nothing doing at the office of John Hazen, Junior, or at his wharf. +Patty and some others of the old régime, as she would have liked to +put it, were wont to sigh and to smile somewhat pathetically when that +change was alluded to, and they would either say nothing or they would +say a good deal, according to circumstances. The old industry was more +picturesque than the new, there is no doubt about that, and I am +inclined to the view of Miss Patty and her party. It is a pity.</p> + +<p>But some of those old barks and brigs are in commission still. Only a +few years ago, the old bark Hong-Kong, a century old and known the +world over, sailed on her last voyage before she was sold to be broken +up. They were good vessels, those old barks; not fast sailers, but +what did the masters care about that? There was no hurry, and they +could be depended upon to come home when they had filled, for the +weather that would harm them is not made. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span>In the course of their +voyages they pushed their bluff bows into many unknown harbors and +added much to the sum of human knowledge. They could have added much +more, but ship captains are uncommunicative men, seldom volunteering +information, although sometimes giving it freely when it is asked; +never blowing their own horns, differing, in that respect, from +certain explorers. Perhaps they should be called lecturers rather than +explorers. Poor chaps! It may be that if they did not blow them and +make a noise, nobody would do it for them, but they never wait to find +out. Let them blow their penny trumpets. It is safe and sane—very.</p> + +<p>Captain Forsyth had pronounced views on this subject. "Explorers!" he +roared to Sally one day. "These explorers! Huh! It's all for Smith, +that's what it is, and if Jones says he has been there, Jones is a +liar. Where? Why, anywhere. That previously unknown harbor Smith has +just discovered and made such a fuss over—I could have told him all +about it forty years ago. Previously unknown nothing! It's Wingate's +Harbor, and when I was in command of the Hong-Kong we poked about +there for months. And there's another, about a hundred miles to the +east'ard that he hasn't discovered yet, and it's a better harbor than +his. Discover! Huh!"</p> + +<p>"But why," Sally asked in genuine surprise,—"why, Captain Forsyth, +haven't you told about it? Why don't you, now?"</p> + +<p>"Why don't I?" Captain Forsyth roared again. "Nobody's asked me; +that's why. They don't want to know. They'd say I was a liar and call +for proofs. Why should I? Cap'n Wingate found it, as far as I know, +but there might have been a dozen others who were there before him. I +don't know. And Cap'n Sampson and Cap'n Wingate and Cap'n Carling and +Cap'n Pilcher and—oh, all the masters knew them almost as well as +they knew Whitby Harbor. They're mostly dead now. But I'm not. And if +anybody comes discovering Whitby Harbor, why, let him <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span>look out." And +the old captain went off, chuckling to himself.</p> + +<p>Many a time the old Hong-Kong had entered Whitby Harbor under her own +sail. Later, the tugs met the ships far down the bay and brought them +in, thereby saving some time. Whether they saved them money or not I +do not know, but the owners must have thought they did. At least, they +saved them from the danger of going aground on Ship Island Shoal, for +that passage into the harbor was hardly wide enough for two vessels to +pass in comfort unless the wind was just right.</p> + +<p>Once in, it must have been a pretty sight for the returned sailors and +one to warm their hearts—a pretty sight for anybody, indeed; one did +not need to be a returned sailor for that. There, on the left, was the +town, sloping gently down to the water, with its church spires rising +from a sea of green, for every street was lined with elms. And there +were the familiar noises coming faintly over the water: the noise of +many beetles striking upon wood. There were always vessels being +repaired, and the masters of Whitby despised, for daily use, such +things as marine railways or dry-docks. They would haul down a vessel +in her dock until her keel was exposed and absolutely rebuild her on +one side, if necessary; then haul her down on the other tack, so to +speak, and treat that side in the same way. Even in these later years +the glory of Whitby Harbor, although somewhat dimmed, has not +departed. On the right shore there was nothing but farms and pastures +and hay-fields with the men working in them; for there is less water +toward the right shore of the harbor.</p> + +<p>There were no hay-fields visible on this day of which I am speaking, +but almost unbroken snow; and there were no noises of beetles to come +faintly to a vessel which had just got in. Indeed, no vessel could +have just got in, but, having got in, must have stayed where she +happened to lie. For Whitby Harbor was more like Wingate's Harbor, of +which Captain Forsyth had been speaking, in connection with +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span>explorers, than it was like Whitby Harbor. It presented a hard and +shining surface, with a bark and three schooners frozen in, caught at +their anchorages, and with no open water at all, not even in the +channel.</p> + +<p>If you will take the trouble to recall it, you will remember that the +winter of 1904-05 was very cold; even colder, about Whitby, than the +previous cold winter had been. Toward the end of January, not only was +Whitby Harbor frozen, but there was fairly solid ice for miles out +into the bay. Whitby, not being, in general, prepared for such +winters, was not provided with boats especially designed for breaking +the ice. The two tugs had kept a channel open as long as they could; +but one night the temperature fell to twenty-three below zero and the +morning found them fast bound in their docks. So they decided to give +it up—making a virtue of necessity—and to wait; which was a decision +reached after several hours of silent conference between the tugboat +captains, during which conference they smoked several pipes apiece and +looked out, from the snug pilothouse of the Arethusa, over the +glittering surface. At a quarter to twelve Captain Hannibal let his +chair down upon its four feet and thoughtfully knocked the ashes out +of his pipe.</p> + +<p>"I guess we can't do it," he said conclusively. "I'm goin' home to +dinner."</p> + +<p>The condition, now, reminded Captain Forsyth of other days. For nearly +two weeks the temperature had not been higher than a degree or two +above zero and the ice in the harbor, except for an occasional +air-hole, was thick enough to banish even those fears which Doctor +Sanderson had mentioned. Any timidity was out of place.</p> + +<p>If any fear lingered in the mind of the stout horse as to the +intention of his driver; if he had any lingering fear that he might be +called upon to race, that fear was dispelled when he saw his load. He +knew very well that he would be disqualified at once. There were Patty +and Sally, and Mrs. Ladue, Fox and Henrietta, all crowded into the +two-seated <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span>sleigh. Mr. Hazen had said, smiling, that he would come, +later, from his office, on his own feet. Charlie, seeing the crowded +condition, absolutely refused to go. This was a blow to Miss Patty, +who had intended that he should drive, but was obliged to take the +coachman in his place. Sally did not blame him and made up her mind, +as she squirmed into the seat with Patty and the coachman, that she +would join Uncle John as soon as she saw him.</p> + +<p>It seemed as if the entire population of Whitby must be on the ice. +The whole surface of the harbor was dotted thickly with people, +skating, sliding, or just wandering aimlessly about, and, on occasion, +making way quickly for an ice-boat. There was not usually ice enough +to make ice-boating a permanent institution in Whitby, and these +ice-boats were hastily put together of rough joists, with the mast and +sail borrowed from some cat-boat; but they sailed well.</p> + +<p>The most of the people, however, were gathered in two long lines. The +harbor was black with them. They were massed, half a dozen or more +deep, behind ropes that stretched away in a straight line for more +than a mile; and between the ropes was a lane, fifty feet wide or +more, white and shining, down which the racing horses sped. The racing +was in one direction only, the returning racers taking their places in +the long line of sleighs which carried spectators and went back at a +very sober pace to the starting-point. Here the line of sleighs +divided, those not racing making a wide turn and going down on the +right, next the ropes, leaving the racers a wide path in the middle.</p> + +<p>As the Hazens' sleigh approached to take its place in the line, a +great shouting arose at a little distance. The noise swelled and died +away and swelled again, but always it went on, along both sides of the +line, marking the pace. Fox could see the waving hands and hats.</p> + +<p>"They seem to be excited," he said, turning, as well as he could, to +Mrs. Ladue, who sat beside him. Henrietta sat on his other side. "Do +you happen to know what it is about?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span>Mrs. Ladue was smiling happily. "Some favorite horse, I suppose," she +replied, "but I don't know anything about the horses. You'd better ask +Sally."</p> + +<p>So Fox asked Sally; but, before she could answer, Patty answered for +her. "I believe that it is Everett Morton and Sawny racing with Mr. +Gilfeather. I am not sure of the name, of course," she added hastily. +"Some low person."</p> + +<p>Sally looked back at Fox with a smile of amusement. It was almost a +chuckle. "Mr. Gilfeather keeps a saloon," she remarked. "I believe it +is rather a nice saloon, as saloons go. I teach his daughter. Cousin +Patty thinks that is awful."</p> + +<p>"It <i>is</i> awful," Patty said, with some vehemence, "to think that our +children must be in the same classes with daughters of saloon-keepers. +Mr. Gilfeather may be a very worthy person, of course, but his +children should go elsewhere."</p> + +<p>Sally's smile had grown into a chuckle. "Mr. Gilfeather has rather a +nice saloon," she repeated, "as saloons go. I've been there."</p> + +<p>Fox laughed, but Miss Patty did not. She turned a horrified face to +Sally.</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>Sally</i>!" she cried. "Whatever—"</p> + +<p>"I had to see him about his daughter. He was always in his saloon. The +conclusion is obvious, as Mr. MacDalie says."</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>Sally</i>!" cried Patty again. "You know you didn't."</p> + +<p>"And who," asked Fox, "is Sawny?"</p> + +<p>"Sawny," Sally answered, hurrying a little to speak before Patty +should speak for her, "Sawny is a what, not a who. He is Everett +Morton's horse, and a very good horse, I believe."</p> + +<p>"He seems to be in favor with the multitude." The shouting and yelling +had broken out afresh, far down the lines. "Or is it his owner?"</p> + +<p>Sally shook her head. "It is Sawny," she replied. "I don't know how +the multitude regards Everett. Probably Mr. Gilfeather knows more +about that than I do."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span>They had taken their place in the line of sleighs and were ambling +along close to the rope. The sleighs in the line were so close that +the stout horse had his nose almost in the neck of a nervous man just +ahead, who kept looking back, while Fox could feel the breath of the +horse behind.</p> + +<p>He looked at Mrs. Ladue. "Does it trouble you that this horse is so +near?" he asked. "Do you mind?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing troubles me," she said, smiling up at him. "I don't mind +anything. I am having a lovely time."</p> + +<p>And Fox returned to his observation of the multitude, collectively and +individually. They interested him more than the horses, which could +not truthfully be said of Henrietta. Almost every person there looked +happy and bent upon having a good time, although almost everybody was +cold, which was not surprising, and there was much stamping of feet +and thrashing of arms, and the ice boomed and cracked merrily, once in +a while, and the noise echoed over the harbor. Suddenly Fox leaned out +of the sleigh and said something to a man, who looked surprised and +began rubbing his ears gently. Then he called his thanks.</p> + +<p>"That man's ears were getting frost-bitten," Fox remarked in reply to +a questioning glance from Mrs. Ladue. "Now here we are at the end of +the line and I haven't seen a single race. I say, Sally, can't we get +where we can see that Sawny horse race? I should like to see him and +Mr. Gilfeather."</p> + +<p>"He's a sight. So is Mr. Gilfeather." And Sally laughed suddenly. "If +we should hang around here until we hear the noise coming and then get +in the line again, we should be somewhere near halfway down when he +comes down again. Can we, Cousin Patty?"</p> + +<p>Patty inclined her head graciously. "Why, certainly, Sally. Anything +Doctor Sanderson likes."</p> + +<p>"Doctor Sanderson is greatly obliged," said Fox.</p> + +<p>The nervous man appeared much relieved to find that they were to hang +around and that he was not condemned to having the nose of their horse +in his neck all the afternoon. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span>They drove off to join a group of +sleighs that were hanging around for a like purpose.</p> + +<p>A light cutter, drawn by a spirited young horse, drew up beside them.</p> + +<p>"Good afternoon," said a pleasant voice. "Won't some one of you come +with me? You should have mercy on your horse, you know."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Dick!" Sally cried. There was mischief in her eyes. "It is good +of you. Will you take Edward?"</p> + +<p>Even Edward, the stolid coachman, grinned at that.</p> + +<p>"With pleasure," said Dick, not at all disconcerted, "if Miss Patty +can spare him."</p> + +<p>"Oh," cried Miss Patty, "not Edward."</p> + +<p>"Well," continued Sally, "Miss Sanderson, then."</p> + +<p>"With pleasure," said Dick again. There was no need to ask Henrietta. +The introductions were gone hastily through, and Henrietta changed +with some alacrity.</p> + +<p>"You are not racing, Dick?" Sally asked, as he tucked the robe around +Henrietta.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," Dick replied solemnly, looking up. "How can you ask, Sally? +You know that I should not dare to, with this horse. He is too young."</p> + +<p>"Gammon!" Sally exclaimed. "I shall keep my eye on you, Dick."</p> + +<p>"That's a good place for it," Dick remarked. "Good-bye."</p> + +<p>Henrietta was laughing. "Will you race, Mr. Torrington?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," Dick repeated, as solemnly as before. "I have no such +intention. Of course, this horse is young and full of spirits and I +may not be able to control him. But my intentions are irreproachable."</p> + +<p>Henrietta laughed again. "Oh, I hope so," she said, somewhat +ambiguously.</p> + +<p>Another cutter, the occupant of which had been waiting impatiently +until Dick should go, drew up beside the Hazens'. The aforesaid +occupant had eyes for but one person.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span>"Won't you come with me, Sally?" He did not mean that the wrong one +should be foisted upon him.</p> + +<p>Sally smiled gently and shook her head. There were so many things she +had to deny him! "Thank you, Eugene. I shall join Uncle John as soon +as he comes down—as soon as I see him."</p> + +<p>"Well, see him from my sleigh, then. The view is as good as from +yours. Isn't it a little crowded?"</p> + +<p>Sally shook her head again.</p> + +<p>"Won't you come?" he persisted.</p> + +<p>Sally sighed. "No, I thank you, Eugene. I will stay until I see Uncle +John."</p> + +<p>Bowing, Eugene Spencer drove off, leaving Sally rather sober and +silent. Fox watched her and wondered, and Mrs. Ladue, in her turn, +watched Fox. She could do that without being observed, now that +Henrietta was gone. But the noise that told of that Sawny horse was +coming, and they got into line.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_IV3" id="CHAPTER_IV3"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER IV<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>Whatever the things in which Everett Morton had failed, driving was +not one of them. There was some excuse for his not succeeding in any +of the things he had tried: he did not have to. Take away the +necessity and how many of us would make a success of our business or +our profession? For that matter, how many of us are there who can +honestly say that we have made a success of the profession which we +have happened to choose? I say "happened to choose," because it is +largely a matter of luck whether we have happened to choose what we +would really rather do. Any man is peculiarly fortunate if he has +known enough and has been able to choose the thing that he would +rather do than anything else, and such a man should have a very happy +life. He should be very grateful to his parents. I envy him. Most of +us are the slaves of circumstances and let them decide for us; and +then, perhaps too late, discover that which we had rather—oh, so much +rather—do than follow on in the occupation which fate has forced us +into. We have to labor in our "leisure" time in the work which we +should have chosen, but did not; as if the demands of to-day—if we +would succeed—left us any leisure time!</p> + +<p>It is not to be supposed that Everett had such thoughts as these. He +was concerned only with Sawny, at the moment, and with Mr. Gilfeather. +He may have had the fleeting thought that he made rather a fine +figure, in his coat and cap of sables and with his bored, handsome +face. Indeed, he did. A good many people thought so. Even Sally may +have thought so; but Sally did not say what she thought. As Everett +made the turn at the head of the course, he looked around for Mr. +Gilfeather, and presently he found him. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span>Mr. Gilfeather was a +hard-featured man, with a red face and a great weight of body, which +was somewhat of a handicap to his horse. But if the horse expressed no +objection to that and if Mr. Gilfeather did not, why, Everett was the +last person in the world to raise the question.</p> + +<p>"Try it again?" Mr. Gilfeather called, smiling genially.</p> + +<p>Everett nodded. He did manage a bored half-smile, but it could not be +called genial, by any stretch of the word.</p> + +<p>They manœuvred their horses until they were abreast, and jogged +down the course. They wanted it clear, as far as they could get it; +and Mr. Gilfeather's horse fretted at the bit and at the tight hold +upon him. Sawny did not. He knew what he had to do. And presently the +course opened out clear for a good distance ahead.</p> + +<p>"What do you say, Everett?" asked Mr. Gilfeather. A good many people +heard it and noted that Gilfeather called Morton Everett. "Shall we +let 'em go?"</p> + +<p>Everett nodded again, and Mr. Gilfeather took off one wrap of the +reins. The nervous horse sprang ahead, but Sawny did not. He knew what +was expected of him. Everett had not been keeping a tight hold on him; +not tight enough to worry him, although, to be sure, it was not easy +to worry Sawny. So, when Everett tightened a little upon his bit, +Sawny responded by increasing his stride just enough to keep his nose +even with Mr. Gilfeather. He could look over Mr. Gilfeather's shoulder +and see what he was doing with the reins. Perhaps he did. Sawny was a +knowing horse and he almost raced himself.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gilfeather's horse had drawn ahead with that first burst of speed, +and now, seeing that Everett was apparently content, for the time, +with his place, Mr. Gilfeather tried to check him, for he knew +Everett's methods—or shall I say Sawny's?—and there was three +quarters of a mile to go. But Sawny's nose just over his shoulder made +him nervous; and the rhythmical sound of Sawny's sharp shoes cutting +into the ice—always just at his ear, it seemed—made him almost as +nervous as his horse, although Mr. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span>Gilfeather did not look like a +nervous man. So he let his horse go a little faster than he should +have done, which was what the horse wanted; anything to get away from +that crash—crash of hoofs behind him.</p> + +<p>But always Sawny held his position, lengthening his stride as much as +the occasion called for. He could lengthen it much more, if there were +need, as he knew very well; as he knew there soon would be. Mr. +Gilfeather's horse—and Mr. Gilfeather himself—got more nervous every +second. The horse, we may presume, was in despair. Every effort that +he had made to shake Sawny off had failed. He hung about Mr. +Gilfeather's shoulder with the persistence of a green-head.</p> + +<p>In these positions, the horses passed down between the yelling crowds. +Mr. Gilfeather may have heard the yelling, but Everett did not. It +fell upon his ears unheeded, like the sound of the sea or of the wind +in the trees. He was intent upon but one thing now, and that thing was +not the noise of the multitude.</p> + +<p>When there was but a quarter of a mile to go, Sawny felt a little more +pressure upon the bit and heard Everett's voice speaking low.</p> + +<p>"Now, stretch yourself, Sawny," said that voice cheerfully.</p> + +<p>And Sawny stretched himself to his full splendid stride and the sound +of that crash of hoofs came a little faster. It passed Mr. +Gilfeather's shoulder and he had a sight of red nostrils spread wide; +then of Sawny's clean-cut head and intelligent eye. Did that eye wink +at him? Then came the lean neck and then the shoulder: a skin like +satin, with the muscles working under it with the regularity of a +machine; then the body—but Mr. Gilfeather had no time for further +observation out of the corner of his eye. His horse had heard, too, +and knew what was happening; and when Mr. Gilfeather urged him on to +greater speed, he tried to go faster and he broke.</p> + +<p>That was the end of it. He broke, he went into the air, he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span>danced up +and down; and Sawny, who never was guilty of that crime, went by him +like a streak.</p> + +<p>Everett smiled as he passed Mr. Gilfeather, and his smile was a little +less bored than usual. "If I had known that this was to be a +running-race," he said; but Mr. Gilfeather lost the rest of Everett's +remark, for Sawny had carried him out of hearing.</p> + +<p>It chanced that they had passed the Hazens' sleigh just before Mr. +Gilfeather's horse broke. Sally watched the horses as they passed, +with Sawny gaining at every stride. Her face glowed and she turned to +Fox.</p> + +<p>"There!" she said. "Now you've seen him. Isn't he splendid?"</p> + +<p>"Who? Mr. Morton?" Fox asked innocently. "He does look rather +splendid. That must be a very expensive coat and the—"</p> + +<p>Sally smiled. "It was Sawny that I meant."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Fox.</p> + +<p>"Everett might be included, no doubt," she continued.</p> + +<p>"No doubt," Fox agreed.</p> + +<p>"He is part of it, although there is a popular opinion that Sawny +could do it all by himself, if he had to."</p> + +<p>"Having been well trained," Fox suggested.</p> + +<p>Sally nodded. "Having been well trained. And Everett trained him, I +believe."</p> + +<p>Fox was more thoughtful than the occasion seemed to call for. "It +speaks well for his ability as a trainer of horses."</p> + +<p>"It does." Sally seemed thoughtful, too.</p> + +<p>"And what else does Mr. Morton do," asked Fox, "but train his horse?"</p> + +<p>"Not much, I believe," Sally replied. "At other seasons he drives his +car; when the roads are good."</p> + +<p>"A noble occupation for a man," Fox observed, cheerfully and +pleasantly; "driver and chauffeur. Not that those occupations are not +quite respectable, but it hardly seems enough for a man of Mr. +Morton's abilities, to say the least."</p> + +<p>Sally looked up with a quick smile. "I am no apologist <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span>for Everett," +she said. "I am not defending him, you observe. I know nothing of his +abilities."</p> + +<p>"What do you know, Sally," Fox inquired then, "of popular opinion?"</p> + +<p>"More than you think, Fox," Sally answered mischievously, "for I have +mixed with the people. I have been to Mr. Gilfeather's saloon."</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>Sally</i>!" cried Patty, "I <i>wish</i> you wouldn't keep alluding to +your visit to that horrible place. I am sure that it was unnecessary."</p> + +<p>"Very well, Cousin Patty, I won't mention it if it pains you." She +turned to Fox again. "I was going to say that it is a great pity."</p> + +<p>Fox was somewhat mystified. "I have no doubt that it is, if you say +so. I might fall in with your ideas more enthusiastically if I knew +what you were talking about."</p> + +<p>"I am talking about Everett," Sally replied, chuckling. "I don't +wonder that you didn't know. And I was prepared to make a rather +pathetic speech, Fox. You have dulled the point of it, so that I shall +not make it, now."</p> + +<p>"To the effect, perhaps, if I may venture to guess," Fox suggested, +"that Everett might have made more of a success of some other things +if he had felt the same interest in them that he feels in racing his +horse."</p> + +<p>"If he could attack them with as strong a purpose," Sally agreed, +absently, with no great interest herself, apparently, "he would +succeed, I think. I know that Dick thinks he has ability enough."</p> + +<p>Fox made no reply and Sally did not pursue the subject further. They +drove to the end of the course in silence. Suddenly Sally began to +wave her muff violently.</p> + +<p>"Oh, there is Uncle John," she said. "If you will excuse me, I will +get out, Cousin Patty. You needn't stop, Edward. Just go slow. I +find," she added, turning again to the back seat, "that it is the +popular opinion that it is too cold for me to drive longer in comfort, +so I am going to leave you, if you don't mind."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span>"And what if we do mind?" asked Fox; to which question Sally made no +reply. She only smiled at him in a way which he found peculiarly +exasperating.</p> + +<p>"Take good care of father, Sally," said Patty anxiously.</p> + +<p>"I will," Sally replied with a cheerful little nod. "Good-bye." And +she stepped out easily, leaving Patty, Fox, and her mother. This was +an arrangement little to Patty's liking. Doctor Sanderson was in the +seat with Mrs. Ladue. To be sure, he might have changed with Patty +when Sally got out, but Mrs. Ladue would not have him inconvenienced +to that extent. She noted that his eyes followed Sally as she ran and +slid and ran again. Mr. Hazen came forward to meet her and she slipped +her hand within his arm, and she turned to wave her muff to them. Then +Sally and Uncle John walked slowly back, toward the head of the +course.</p> + +<p>Fox turned to Mrs. Ladue and they smiled at each other. "I guess," Fox +remarked, "that she is not changed, after all; except," he added as an +afterthought, "that she is more generally cheerful than she used to +be, which is a change to be thankful for."</p> + +<p>Sally and Uncle John took Dick Torrington home to dinner; and +Henrietta very nearly monopolized his attention, as might have been +expected. It was late, as the habits of the Hazens went, when they +went up to bed, but Henrietta would have Sally come in for a few +minutes. She had <i>so</i> many things to say. No, they wouldn't wait. She +would have forgotten them by the next day. And Sally laughed and went +with Henrietta.</p> + +<p>Henrietta's few minutes had lengthened to half an hour and she had not +said half the things she had meant to say. She had told Sally how Mr. +Spencer—Eugene Spencer, you know—had overtaken them at the head of +the course and had accosted Mr. Torrington, challenging him to race.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Spencer," continued Henrietta, with a demure glance at Sally, +"seemed out of sorts and distinctly cross. I'm sure I don't know why. +Do you, Sally?"</p> + +<p>Sally looked annoyed. "He is very apt to be, I think," <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span>she remarked +briefly. "What did Dick do? He said he was not going to race."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's what he told Mr. Spencer, and Mr. Spencer said, in a +disagreeable kind of way, 'You promised Sally, I suppose.' And +Dick—Mr. Torrington—smiled and his eyes wrinkled. I think he was +laughing at Mr. Spencer—at the pet he was in. Don't you, Sally?"</p> + +<p>Sally nodded. She thought it very likely.</p> + +<p>"And Dick—I must ask Mr. Torrington's pardon, but I hear him spoken +of as Dick so often that I forget—Mr. Torrington told him, in his +slow, quiet way, that he hadn't exactly promised you; that, in fact, +he had warned you that his horse was spirited and somewhat fractious +and he might not be able to hold him. He had warned somebody, anyway, +and he thought it was you. It wasn't you, at all, Sally. It was I, but +I didn't enlighten him."</p> + +<p>"I knew, very well, that he would," Sally observed. "So he raced with +Jane?"</p> + +<p>"With Mr. Spencer," Henrietta corrected. "Do you call him Jane? How +funny! And we beat him and he went off in a shocking temper, for Dick +laughed at him, but very gently."</p> + +<p>"I'm not sure that would not be all the harder for Jane. I suppose you +were glad to beat him."</p> + +<p>"Why, of course," said Henrietta, in surprise. "Wouldn't you have +been?"</p> + +<p>Sally was rather sober and serious. "I suppose so. It wouldn't have +made any particular difference whether you beat him or not."</p> + +<p>Henrietta made no reply to this remark. She was sitting on the bed, +pretty and dainty, and was tapping her foot lightly on the floor. She +gazed at Sally thoughtfully for a long time. Finally Sally got up to +go.</p> + +<p>"Sally," Henrietta asked then, smiling, "haven't you ever thought of +him—them—any one"—she hesitated and stammered a little—"in that +way?" She did not seem to think it necessary to specify more +particularly the way <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span>she meant. "There are lots of attractive men +here. There's Everett Morton and there's Eugene Spencer, though he's +almost too near your own age; but anybody can see that he's perfectly +dippy over you. And—"</p> + +<p>"And there, too," Sally interrupted, "are the Carlings, Harry and +Horry, neither of whom you have seen because they happen to be in +college. The last time they came home, Harry was wearing a mustache +and Horry side-whiskers, so that it would be easy to tell them apart. +The only trouble with that device was that I forgot which was which. +And there is Ollie Pilcher, and there is—oh, the place is perfectly +boiling with men—if it is men that you are looking for."</p> + +<p>Henrietta gave a little ripple of laughter. "You are too funny, Sally. +Of course I am looking for men—or for a man. Girls of our age are +always looking for them, whether we know it or not—deep down in our +hearts. Remember Margaret Savage? Well, she seems to be looking for +Fox, and I shouldn't wonder if he succumbed, in time. She is very +pretty."</p> + +<p>There was a look of resentment in Sally's eyes, but she made no +remark.</p> + +<p>"And I have not finished my list," Henrietta went on. "I can only +include the men I have seen to-day. To end the list, there is Dick +Torrington. Haven't you—haven't you thought—"</p> + +<p>Sally flushed slowly; but she smiled and shook her head. "You see, +Henrietta," she said apologetically, "I have my teaching to think +of—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, bosh!" cried Henrietta, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Fox knows," Sally continued, defensively, "and you can't have wholly +forgotten, Henrietta."</p> + +<p>"Bosh, Sally!" said Henrietta again.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_V3" id="CHAPTER_V3"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER V<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>IT was but a few steps from Henrietta's door to Sally's own. Sally, +her ideas a little confused by that exclamation of Henrietta's and by +what it implied, walked those few steps softly and had her hand upon +the knob of her own door when she found herself sniffing and realized +that she smelt smoke. It was a very faint smell and she hesitated, +even then, and stood there in the dark hall, recalling the fires that +had been left. There had been no wood fire.</p> + +<p>She took her hand softly from the knob. "I believe I'll just look +around," she told herself. "It's a terrible night for a fire. I hope +nobody'll take me for a burglar."</p> + +<p>She went downstairs quickly, taking no pains to be quiet. If she were +not quiet, she thought, with an involuntary chuckle, Uncle John would +not be likely to think she was the sort of person that had no business +to be in the house at all. She looked into the back parlor. All was +right there. Then she opened the door leading into the back hall. The +smell of smoke was stronger. She glanced into the kitchen. The top of +the range was red-hot, to be sure, but that was not unusual enough to +excite surprise, and the great old chimney, with its brick oven and +broad brick breast and the wide brick hearth reaching out well beyond +the range were enough assurance. The smoke must come from the cellar.</p> + +<p>The cellar door was in the back hall, just at Sally's hand as she +stood. She opened it; and was almost stifled by the smoke that poured +out. She gasped and shut the door again quickly, and ran and opened a +kitchen window, fumbling a little at the fastening, and drew two or +three long breaths of the crisp night air, thinking how cold it was. +Then she opened the cellar door again, held her breath, and went down.</p> + +<p>It was a little better when she got down, although the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span>smoke was +thick up by the floor beams. Sally glanced in the direction of the +furnace; and she saw, through the smoke, a dull red glow, with little +licks of flame running up from it, now and then. The man had forgotten +the furnace and had left it drawing. That pipe was perilously near the +beams.</p> + +<p>"The idiot!" Sally exclaimed. And she held her breath again while she +ran up the cellar stairs.</p> + +<p>She was angry with herself because her hands trembled as she lighted +the gas in the kitchen and found the lantern and lighted it. The +slight trembling of her hands did not matter so much in filling a +pitcher with water and by the time the pitcher was full her hands were +steady enough. She ran down cellar again, the lantern in one hand and +the pitcher in the other; and she shut the drafts in the furnace as +far as she could. She heard the flame roaring in the pipe and the +damper was red-hot.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear!" she said, under her breath. "If there was only something +to take hold of it with! And the beams are all afire. Well,—"</p> + +<p>She threw the water from her pitcher upon the beams in little dashes.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear!" she said again. "I can't do it."</p> + +<p>A quiet voice spoke behind her. "Better give it up, Sally, and rouse +the people."</p> + +<p>Sally was too intent upon her purpose to be startled. "Oh, Uncle +John!" she cried. "You are a very present help in trouble. We could +put it out if this was all, but I'm afraid it has already got up +between the walls."</p> + +<p>"Come up, then," Uncle John spoke calmly and without haste. "Never +mind the lantern. I will rouse Patty and Doctor Sanderson and you get +at Henrietta and your mother and the servants. Don't send Patty to the +servants," he added, with a smile. "I will send in the alarm."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hazen had forgotten Charlie. Sally ran upstairs. There was still a +light showing under Henrietta's door and Sally went in.</p> + +<p>"You'd better not undress, Henrietta," she said. "There <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span>is a fire and +we may have to get out. You may have time to do a good deal, if you +hurry—even to pack your trunk. You'd better put on your furs. It's +terribly cold."</p> + +<p>Henrietta was not flurried. "I'll be ready in a jiffy, Sally. Run +along now."</p> + +<p>Sally ran and woke her mother, telling her to get dressed quickly +while she went for the servants. On her way up, she knocked at +Charlie's door. She came downstairs presently, settled the servants in +the hall, and went up to her room to help her mother.</p> + +<p>Then the firemen came with a tremendous clanging of bells and +shrieking of whistles, reveling in noise. Sally laughed when she heard +them, and her mother laughed with her, rather nervously. The rest of +it was a sort of nightmare to Sally and she had no very distinct +recollection of any part of it. There was great confusion, and firemen +in the most unexpected places, and hose through the halls and on the +stairs. Fox and Henrietta had packed their trunks and Patty had two +pillows and a wire hair-brush, which she insisted upon carrying about +with her.</p> + +<p>Then they were ordered out, and Sally found herself out in the night +and the cold amid the confusion of firemen and engines and horses and +ice. For both Appletree and Box Elder streets seemed full of hose, +which leaked at every pore and sent little streams of water on high, +to freeze as soon as they fell and form miniature cascades of ice on +which an old man—a young man, for that matter—might more easily slip +and fall than not. It was very dark out there, the darkness only made +more dense by the light from the lanterns of the firemen and the +sparks from an engine that was roaring near. They were throwing water +on the outside of the house—two streams; and Sally wondered why in +the world they did it. There was no fire visible. Perhaps Fox would +know. And she looked around.</p> + +<p>Their faces could just be made out, in the gloom; her mother and +Charlie, Charlie with the bored look that he seemed to like to assume, +copied after Everett; and Patty, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span>still with her two pillows and her +wire hair-brush, looking frightened, as she was; and Henrietta and Fox +and the huddled group of the servants. She could not see Uncle John. +There were not many spectators, which is not a matter for surprise. +There is little interest in trying to watch a fire which one cannot +see, late on a night which is cold enough to freeze one's ears or +fingers, and the curbstone is but cold comfort.</p> + +<p>Fox and Henrietta were talking together in low tones. "Fox," asked +Sally, "do you know why they are throwing water on the outside of the +house. For the life of me, I can't make out."</p> + +<p>"For their own delectation, I suppose," he answered soberly. "It is a +fireman's business—or part of it—to throw water on a building as +well as all over the inside, when there is any excuse. Besides, the +water, as it runs off the roof and all the little outs, forms very +beautiful icicles which, no doubt, delight the fireman's professional +eye. Think how pretty it will look to-morrow morning with the early +sun upon it."</p> + +<p>Sally chuckled. "I see them dimly," she returned, "but very dimly. +They ought to have a search-light on them."</p> + +<p>"I believe there is one," he observed. "They will have it going +presently."</p> + +<p>"Oh," Sally exclaimed; and she chuckled again.</p> + +<p>Thereupon, as if it had been a signal, a brilliant white light shone +forth. It happened to be pointed exactly upon the little group, but +shifted immediately so that it illuminated the roof. There were great +rippling cascades of ice down the slope of it and icicles forming at +each edge and the water streaming off them.</p> + +<p>Sally was silent for a few moments. "It is certainly very pretty," she +said then, "and should delight the fireman's professional eye. I +suppose that I might enjoy it more if it were not our house."</p> + +<p>The moment's illumination had served to point them out to somebody. +Mrs. Ladue touched Sally on the arm.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span>"Sally, dear," she said, "I think that we may as well go now. Mrs. +Torrington has asked us all to stay there. Won't you and Henrietta +come?"</p> + +<p>"She is very kind," Sally replied. "I had not thought about going +anywhere, yet. I am warm, perfectly warm. I have my furs, you see. I +think I will wait until I see Uncle John, mother, and we can go +somewhere together. I don't like to leave him. But probably Fox and +Henrietta will go." She looked around. "But where is Patty?"</p> + +<p>"Gone to Mrs. Upjohn's a few minutes ago. Poor Patty! I am very glad +to have her go."</p> + +<p>Henrietta had gathered the drift of the talk, although she had not +heard any names. She turned. "I could stay here with you, Sally, or I +could go if it would be more convenient. I am warm enough. Who has +asked us?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ladue answered for Sally. "Mrs. Torrington sent Dick to find us," +she said. "Here he is."</p> + +<p>Henrietta's decision changed instantly. "Oh," she cried, "Mr. +Torrington! It is very kind, and I accept gratefully. When shall we +start, Mrs. Ladue?"</p> + +<p>Sally barely repressed a chuckle. "I'll stay, thank you, Dick; for +Uncle John, you know."</p> + +<p>"Good girl, Sally. I hope I'll fare as well when I'm old. Come +whenever you get ready. Somebody will be up and I think we have room +for everybody. Will Doctor Sanderson come now?" Dick added.</p> + +<p>Doctor Sanderson thanked him, but elected to stay with Sally, and +Sally urged Dick not to expect them and on no account to stay up for +them.</p> + +<p>Dick and Henrietta and Mrs. Ladue had scarcely gone when the roaring +engine choked, gave a few spasmodic snorts and its roaring stopped.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with it?" Sally asked. "Why has it stopped?"</p> + +<p>"Colic," Fox replied briefly.</p> + +<p>Sally chuckled again and took his arm. He made no objection. The +engine seemed to be struggling heroically to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span>resume its roaring and +there was much running of firemen and shouting unintelligible orders, +to which nobody paid any attention. In the midst of the confusion, Mr. +Hazen appeared. He was evidently very tired and he shivered as he +spoke to Sally.</p> + +<p>"I have done all I could," he said. "That wasn't much. Where are the +others, Sally?"</p> + +<p>Sally told him. "You must be very tired, Uncle John," she went on, +anxiously. "And you are wet through and colder than a clam. Your teeth +are positively chattering."</p> + +<p>He looked down at himself and felt of his clothes. The edge of his +overcoat and the bottoms of his trousers were frozen stiff. "I guess I +am tired," he replied, trying to call up a smile, "and I am a little +cold. I've been so occupied that I hadn't noticed. And I slipped on +one of their piles of ice. It didn't do any harm," he added hastily. +"I think I'll go over to Stephen's—Captain Forsyth's. He won't mind +being routed out. What will you do, Sally? Why don't you and Fox come, +too?"</p> + +<p>Sally hesitated. There was no object in their staying any longer, but +she did not like to impose upon Captain Forsyth. If she had only known +it, Captain Forsyth would have liked nothing better than to be imposed +upon by Sally in any way that she happened to choose.</p> + +<p>While she was hesitating she heard a voice behind her. "Mr. Hazen," +said the voice, rather coldly and formally, "won't you and Sally—Miss +Ladue—and—any others—"</p> + +<p>Sally had turned and now saw that it was Everett. She knew that well +enough as soon as he had begun to speak. And she saw, too, that he was +looking at Fox. She hastened to introduce them. It was necessary, in +Everett's case. They both bowed.</p> + +<p>"My mother sent me," Everett resumed, in the same formal tone, "to +find any of the family that I could and to say that we hope—my father +and my mother and myself—we hope that they will come to-night and +stay as long as <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span>they find it convenient." He seemed to have no great +liking for his errand. "It is very awkward," he added, with his bored +smile, "to be burned out of your house at night and on such a very +cold night, too."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but think," said Sally, "how much worse it might be. It might +have been at three o'clock in the morning, when everybody would have +been sleeping soundly."</p> + +<p>"That is very true," he returned. "I suppose you are thankful it was +not at three o'clock in the morning." He looked at them all in turn +questioningly. "Will you come? We should be very glad if you would."</p> + +<p>Again Sally hesitated. Uncle John saved her the trouble of answering.</p> + +<p>"I had just expressed my intention of going to Stephen Forsyth's, +Everett," he said, "and I think I will. Stephen and I are old cronies, +you know. We are very much obliged to you and I have no doubt that +Sally and Dr. Sanderson will go, with pleasure. They must have had +about enough of this."</p> + +<p>Everett bowed. Sally could hear Uncle John's teeth chattering and his +voice had been very shaky as he finished.</p> + +<p>"Let Fox prescribe for you, Uncle John," she said. "I'm worried about +you. What's the use of having a doctor in the family if he doesn't +prescribe when there is need?" And then Sally was thankful that it was +dark.</p> + +<p>Uncle John smiled his assent and Fox prescribed. "I have no doubt that +Captain Forsyth will have certain remedies at hand," he concluded, +"and I should think there would be no harm in your taking them, in +moderation."</p> + +<p>Uncle John laughed. "He will press them upon me," he said. "I will +observe Doctor Sanderson's prescription. Now, good-night. No, Sally, +Stephen's is just around the corner, you know."</p> + +<p>He disappeared into the darkness and Sally, with much inward +misgiving, prepared to follow Everett. She was really worried about +Uncle John. He was an old man, just <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span>upon eighty, and he had gone +through a great deal that night and was chilled through, she was +afraid, and—</p> + +<p>She stopped short. "Oh, Fox," she cried. "The servants! I had +forgotten them. What in the world shall we do with them?"</p> + +<p>Everett had stopped, too, and heard Sally's question. "That is not +difficult," he said. "Send them to our house. It is a large house and +there is room for them in the servants' wing. Perhaps I can find +them."</p> + +<p>Everett was back in a moment. "That was easy," he remarked. "You need +give yourself no concern."</p> + +<p>They walked in silence up the long driveway, between the rows of +shadowing spruces, and up the broad granite steps. Everett had his key +in the latch and threw open the door.</p> + +<p>"My mother did not come down, apparently. You will see her in the +morning."</p> + +<p>As she took off her furs in the hall, Sally was very grateful for the +warmth and the cheerfulness and the spaciousness of the great house. +Everett slipped off his coat of sables and led the way up the stairs.</p> + +<p>"Your room, Sally—I shall call you Sally?" He looked at her, but not +as if in doubt.</p> + +<p>"Why, of course," said Sally in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Your room, Sally," he resumed, "is down that hall, just opposite my +mother's. The door is open and there is a light. Doctor Sanderson's is +this way, near mine. I will show him. Good-night, Sally."</p> + +<p>"Good-night," she answered; "and good-night, Fox."</p> + +<p>They turned and she went down the hall, her feet making no sound in +the soft carpet. The door which Everett had pointed out as his +mother's stood ajar, and, as Sally passed, it opened wider and Mrs. +Morton stepped out.</p> + +<p>"You are very welcome, Sally, dear," she said, kissing her; "as +welcome as could be. I will see Doctor Sanderson in the morning. Come +down whenever you feel like it. It has been a trying night for you."</p> + +<p>Sally's eyes were full of tears as she softly closed her own door.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_VI3" id="CHAPTER_VI3"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER VI<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>There were times when, in spite of disease, death, or disaster, Mrs. +John Upjohn had to have clothes; more clothes, no doubt I should say, +or other clothes. At any rate, when such occasions were imminent, Mrs. +Upjohn was wont to summon the dressmaker to come to her house, and the +dressmaker would come promptly and would camp in the house until the +siege was over, going home only to sleep. One would think that Mrs. +Upjohn might have offered Letty Lambkin a bed to sleep in, for Letty +had been a schoolmate of hers before misfortune overtook her; and Mrs. +Upjohn had beds to spare and Letty always arrived before breakfast and +stayed until after supper. Perhaps such an offer would have offended a +sensitive spirit. That is only a guess, of course, for I have no means +of knowing what Mrs. Upjohn's ideas were upon that subject. At all +events, she never gave Letty a chance of being offended at any such +offer.</p> + +<p>An occasion such as I have mentioned arose on the day of the Hazens' +fire, and Mrs. Upjohn had accordingly sent John Junior around to +Letty's house with the customary message. Which message John Junior +had delivered with an air of great dejection and with the very evident +hope that Miss Lambkin would be unable to come. But, alas! Miss +Lambkin smiled at John cheerfully and told him to tell his mother that +she would be there bright and early in the morning; that she had felt +it in her bones that Alicia Upjohn would be wanting her on that day, +and she had put off Mrs. Robbins and Mrs. Sarjeant on purpose so's +Alicia wouldn't have to wait.</p> + +<p>Whereupon John Junior muttered unintelligibly and turned away, leaving +Miss Lambkin gazing fondly after him and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span>calling after him to know if +it wasn't cold. John Junior muttered again, inaudibly to Miss Lambkin, +but not unintelligibly. He was not fond of those sieges, to say the +least.</p> + +<p>"Darn it!" he muttered, kicking viciously at the ice. "That means two +weeks and I can't stay at Hen's all the whole time for two weeks. A +fellow has to be at home for meals. If she only wasn't there for +breakfast and supper!" John Junior kicked viciously at the ice again; +and, the ice proving refractory, he stubbed his toe and almost fell. +"Ow!" he said; "darn it!" But that was an afterthought. He betook him +to the harbor.</p> + +<p>There is some reason to believe that the late John Senior had not +regarded these visitations with more favor than did his son; there +were some that did not hesitate to say that his end had been hastened +by them and by the semiannual house-cleaning. Mrs. Upjohn was +considered a notable housekeeper. "She takes it hard," he had said to +Hen's father in an unguarded moment of confidence. Hen's father had +laughed. Hen's mother was not a notable housekeeper. John Senior had +sighed. At that time there was but one club in Whitby. He was not a +member of that club. Such men as Hugh Morton and Gerrit Torrington +were members; even John Hazen was said to be a member, although he was +never at the club-rooms. So even that solace was denied to John +Senior. He couldn't stay at Hen's house all the time either; and, +there seeming to be no other way of escape, he up and had a stroke and +died in two hours. At least, so rumor ran, the connection between +cause and effect being of rumor's making. I have no wish to contradict +it. I have no doubt that I should have wanted to do as John Senior had +done. Very possibly Patty had some such wish.</p> + +<p>The two weeks of Letty were now up and the end was not in sight. She +and Mrs. Upjohn sat in Mrs. Upjohn's sewing-room, which was strewn +with unfinished skirts and waists and scraps of cloth. Letty sewed +rapidly on the skirt; Mrs. Upjohn sewed slowly—very, very slowly—on +something. It really did not matter what. If the completion of Mrs. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span>Upjohn's clothes had depended upon Mrs. Upjohn's unaided efforts she +would never have had anything to wear.</p> + +<p>"Where's Patty gone, Alicia?" asked Letty, a thread between her teeth. +"Hospital?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Upjohn stopped sewing. "Yes," she replied in her deliberate way. +"I believe her father is worse. She got a message this morning before +you came, and I think it was unfavorable, to judge by her face."</p> + +<p>"Land!" said Miss Lambkin. "I guess he's going to die. He's a pretty +old man. Eighty, if he's a day, would be my guess."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Upjohn nodded. "Just eighty."</p> + +<p>"Pretty good guess, I call it." Miss Lambkin laughed. "I thought he +must be pretty sick, or Patty wouldn't be out of the house as soon as +ever breakfast was over and not turn up again until dinner-time. Then, +as like as not, she'd be gone the whole afternoon. I hear he's got +pneumonia."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Upjohn nodded again.</p> + +<p>"And I hear," Letty continued, "that he got it getting chilled and wet +the night of the fire. 'T was an awful cold night, and he would stay +around the house and try to tell the firemen what they sh'd do. Of +course, they couldn't help squirting on him some."</p> + +<p>"I hope," said Mrs. Upjohn, "that they didn't mean to."</p> + +<p>"I hope not," Miss Lambkin returned. "I sh'd think the ones that did +it would have it on their consciences if they did. They tell me that +Sally Ladue discovered the fire. She and that Doctor Sanderson have +been at the Mortons' ever since and, if you can believe all you hear, +neither of 'em likes it any too well. Mrs. Morton's nice to her—she +can be as nice as nice to them that she likes, though you wouldn't +always think it—but Everett's the trouble."</p> + +<p>It was contrary to Mrs. Upjohn's principles to look surprised at any +piece of information—and as if she had not heard it before. She gave +a little laugh.</p> + +<p>"A good many girls," she remarked, "would give their eyes to be at the +Mortons' for two weeks."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span>"I guess that's what's the trouble with Everett," said Miss Lambkin +pointedly. "Too much girl; and I guess he isn't any too particular +about the kind either."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Upjohn was curious. To be sure, she was always curious, which was +a fact that she flattered herself she concealed very neatly. Other +people were not of the same opinion.</p> + +<p>"Why, Letty?" she asked frankly. She seldom allowed her curiosity to +be so evident. "I've never heard of his being seen with any girls that +he ought not to be with. Have you?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, not in Whitby," replied Miss Lambkin. "Not for Joseph! As far's +that goes, he isn't seen very often with girls that he ought to be +with. But I hear that when he's in Boston it's a different story. Of +course, I haven't seen him with my own eyes, but I have reliable +information. You know he goes to Boston for weeks at a time."</p> + +<p>"M-m," assented Mrs. Upjohn, rocking quietly and comfortably. "He +stays at the best hotels, I believe."</p> + +<p>"<i>Registers</i> at the most expensive," corrected Miss Lambkin, "I have +no doubt. I s'pose he stays there some of the time. To tell the +truth," she confessed, somewhat crestfallen at having to make the +humiliating confession, "I didn't just hear what Everett does that +Sally Ladue doesn't like."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Mrs. Upjohn. She did not look up and there was a certain +air of triumph in the way she uttered that simple syllable which +grated on Miss Lambkin's sensibilities.</p> + + +<p>"Sally's a sort of high-and-mighty girl," continued Miss Lambkin +tentatively.</p> + +<p>"Sally's a nice girl and a good girl," said Mrs. Upjohn cordially; +"capable, I should say."</p> + +<p>"No doubt she is," Letty returned without enthusiasm. "It's rather +strange that she is all that, considering what her father did."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Upjohn laughed comfortably. "I used to know her father. There was +no telling what he would do."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span>"Ran off with another woman," said Letty, "and some money. That's what +I heard."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Upjohn laughed again. "He disappeared," she conceded. "I never +heard that there was any other woman in the case and I'm reasonably +sure there wasn't any money."</p> + +<p>"He hasn't ever been heard of since?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Upjohn shook her head.</p> + +<p>"And he left them without any money? I thought he stole it."</p> + +<p>"I don't think so. Doctor Sanderson kept them afloat for some time, I +believe, until Patty asked Sally here. Then he got Mrs. Ladue into +Doctor Galen's hospital."</p> + +<p>"M-m," Letty murmured slowly. She had a needle between her lips or she +would have said "o-oh." She removed the needle for the purpose of +speech. "So that's Doctor Sanderson's connection with the Ladues. I +always wondered. It might have been 'most anything. His sister's up +and coming. She'll have Dick Torrington if he don't look out. She's +made the most of her visit."</p> + +<p>Letty's murmur might have meant much or it might have meant nothing at +all. At all events, Mrs. Upjohn let it go unchallenged, possibly +because her curiosity was aroused by what Letty said later. She asked +no questions, however. She only waited, receptively, for further +communications on the subject of Henrietta and Dick. Miss Lambkin did +not vouchsafe further information on that subject, but immediately +branched off upon another.</p> + +<p>"I'm told," she said, with the rapidity of mental change that marked +her intellectual processes, "that John Hazen's house was in an awful +state the morning after the fire. I went around there as soon's ever I +could, to see what I could see, but the door was locked and I couldn't +get in. I looked in the windows, though, and the furniture's all gone +from some of the rooms, even to the carpets. There was a ladder there, +and I went up it, and the bedroom was all stripped clean. I couldn't +carry the ladder, so I didn't see the others. I made some inquiries +and I was told that the furniture was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span>all stored in the stable. That +wasn't burned at all, you know. I thought that perhaps Patty'd been +and had it moved, though it don't seem hardly like her. It's more like +John Hazen himself. But he wasn't able."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Upjohn smiled and shook her head. "It wasn't Patty," she replied, +"or I should have known it. I guess it was Sally. Perhaps Doctor +Sanderson helped, but it is just like Sally. She's a great hand to +take hold and do things."</p> + +<p>"You don't tell me!" said Miss Lambkin. "But I don't suppose she did +it with her own hands. I shouldn't wonder," she remarked, "if she'd +find some good place to board, the first thing you know. She might go +to Miss Miller's. She could take 'em, I know, but she wouldn't have +room for Doctor Sanderson, only Sally and her mother and Charlie. +Charlie's a pup, that's what he is. But I can't see, for the life of +me, what Doctor Sanderson keeps hanging around here for. Why don't he +go home?"</p> + +<p>Not knowing, Mrs. Upjohn, for a wonder, did not undertake to say. Miss +Lambkin hazarded the guess that the doctor might be sparking around +Sally; but Mrs. Upjohn did not seem to think so.</p> + +<p>"Well," Letty went on, "I wonder what the Hazens'll do. It'd cost an +awful sight to repair that house; almost as much as to build a new +one. What insurance did you hear they had? Has Patty said?—This skirt +is about ready to try on, Alicia. I want to drape it real nice. Can't +you stand on the table?"</p> + +<p>She spread a folded newspaper on the top of the table.</p> + +<p>"There! Now, you won't mar the top. Take your skirt right off and +climb up."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Upjohn was a heavy woman and she obeyed with some difficulty. +Miss Lambkin continued in her pursuit of information while she draped +the skirt.</p> + +<p>"You haven't answered about the insurance, Alicia. What did Patty say +about it? I don't suppose Patty'd know exactly and I wouldn't trust +her guess anyway. John <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span>Hazen never seemed to, to any extent. Patty's +kind o' flighty, isn't she, and cracked on the men, although you +wouldn't think it from her highty-tighty manner. She used to think she +was going to marry Meriwether Beatty, I remember. Land! He had no more +idea of marrying her than I had. And she's been cracked on every man +that's more'n spoken to her since. She's got the symptoms of nervous +prostration; all the signs of it. I shouldn't be a bit surprised if +she went crazy, one o' these days. If Doctor Sanderson is looking for +patients for his sanitarium he needn't look any farther. Patty's it. +Turn around, Alicia. I don't get a good light on the other side. Why, +Patty's—"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Upjohn had heard the front door shut. "Sh-h-h!" she cautioned. +"Here's Patty now."</p> + +<p>They heard Patty come slowly up the stairs and, although there were no +sounds of it, she seemed to be weeping.</p> + +<p>"Now, I wonder," whispered Miss Lambkin, "what's the matter. Do you +s'pose her—"</p> + +<p>"Sh, Letty! She'll hear you. I'll get down and go to her."</p> + +<p>"Without a skirt, Alicia?"</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Upjohn did not heed. She got down from the table, clumsily +enough, and went to the door. Patty had just passed it.</p> + +<p>"Patty!" Mrs. Upjohn called softly. "Is there anything the matter?"</p> + +<p>Patty turned a miserable, tear-stained face. "It—it's all o-over," +she said dully.</p> + +<p>"Your father?" asked Mrs. Upjohn. She spoke in an awe-struck whisper +in spite of herself. Did not Death deserve such an attitude?</p> + +<p>Patty nodded silently. "I'm so sorry, Patty," Mrs. Upjohn's sympathy +was genuine. "I <i>am</i> so sorry."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Alicia," Patty cried in a burst of grief, "my father's d-dead."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Upjohn folded ample arms about her and patted her on the shoulder +as if she had been a child. "There, there, Patty! I'm just as sorry as +I can be; and so will everybody <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span>be as soon as they hear of it. But +you just cry as much as you want to. It'll do you good."</p> + +<p>So they stood, Mrs. Upjohn unmindful of the fact that she had no skirt +and Patty crying into a lavender silk shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Land!" The voice was the voice of Miss Lambkin and it proceeded from +the doorway. "I'm awfully sorry to hear your father's dead, Patty. How +did—"</p> + +<p>Patty lifted her head majestically from the lavender silk shoulder. +"My grief is sacred," she murmured; and fled to her room.</p> + +<p>"Mercy me!" muttered Miss Lambkin. "I didn't have my kid gloves on. I +ought to have known better'n to speak to Patty without 'em. You may as +well come back, Alicia," she continued in a louder voice, "and finish +with that skirt. Perhaps, now, you'll be wanting a new black dress. +Your old one's pretty well out of fashion."</p> + +<p>She filled her mouth with pins while Mrs. Upjohn again mounted the +table.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Upjohn shook her head slowly. "No," she answered, "I guess the +old one will do for a while yet. I shouldn't want one for anything but +the funeral anyway, and you couldn't begin to get one done by that +time. It would be different if it was a relative."</p> + +<p>"It's curious," remarked Miss Lambkin, as well as she could with her +mouth full of pins, "how things go. Now, there's many of our +relatives—mine, anyway—that we could spare as well as not; better +than some of those that are no kin to us. And we have to wear black +for them and try to look sorry. Black isn't becoming to some, but it +seems to me you'd look full as well in it as you do in that lavender, +and that place on your shoulder where Patty cried tears is going to +show anyway. But, as I was going to say, a man like John Hazen is +going to be missed. I wonder who was there, at his death-bed. Patty, +of course, and Sally Ladue, I s'pose, and maybe Mrs. Ladue and +Meriwether Beatty. Sally was real fond of her Uncle John and he of +her. It's my opinion that Sally'll be sorrier than Patty <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span>will. Come +right down to it, Patty isn't so broken-hearted as she likes to think, +though she'll miss him."</p> + +<p>To this Mrs. Upjohn agreed, but Letty did not wait for her reply.</p> + +<p>"And I wonder," she went on, working rapidly while she talked, "how +much he's left. Patty hasn't said, I s'pose. I don't s'pose she'd have +much of an idea anyway, and I don't know's anybody could tell until +his business is all settled up. He had quite a number of vessels, and +it seems a great pity that there isn't anybody to take his business up +where he left it. He did well with it, I'm told. It's my guess that +you'll find that John Hazen's left Sally a good big slice."</p> + +<p>"I hope so, with all my heart." Mrs. Upjohn spoke cordially, as she +did invariably of Sally.</p> + +<p>"My!" Letty exclaimed with an anticipatory squeal of delight. +"Wouldn't it put Patty in a proper temper if he had! Now, Alicia," she +said, standing back and looking the skirt up and down, "we'll call +that skirt right. It hangs well, if I do say it. Take it off and I'll +finish it right up. You can come down now."</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_VII3" id="CHAPTER_VII3"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER VII<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>Miss Lambkin was right. Sally found a place to board—a nice place, to +quote Letty Lambkin, although it was not Miss Miller's. No doubt Letty +was sorry that Sally had not chosen Miss Miller's, for Miss Miller was +an especial friend of Letty's; and, by choosing another place, Sally +had cut off, at a blow, a most reliable source of information. Very +possibly Sally did not think of this, but if she had, it would have +been but one more argument in favor of her choice, for Mrs. Stump +couldn't bear Letty, and she had vowed that she should never darken +her door. Letty would not have darkened the door very much. She was a +thin little thing. But, if Sally did not think of it, Letty did, and +she regretted it. She even went so far as to mention it to Mrs. +Upjohn.</p> + +<p>"If Sally Ladue thinks she's getting ahead of me," she said, with +sharp emphasis, "she'll find she's mistaken. I have my sources of +information."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Upjohn did not reprove her. She had an inordinate thirst for +information which did not concern her, and Letty was the most +unfailing source of it. So she only smiled sympathetically and said +nothing. She was sorry to be deprived of such accurate information +about Sally as Miss Miller would have supplied, but she still had +Patty. In fact, Mrs. Upjohn was beginning to wonder how much longer +she was to have Patty. Patty seemed to have no thought of going. +Indeed, she would not have known where to go. Patty was entering upon +some brand-new experiences, rather late in life. Already she was +beginning to miss the pendulum.</p> + +<p>Before Sally took this step which seemed to be so much more important +to others than to herself, various things had <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span>happened, of which Miss +Lambkin could have had no knowledge, even with her reliable sources of +information. Everett Morton had had an interview with his mother, at +her request. He would not have sought an interview, for he had a +premonition of the subject of it.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Morton was one of those rare women whom wealth had not spoiled; +that is, not wholly; not very much, indeed. There was still left a +great deal of her natural self, and that self was sweet and kind and +yielding enough, although, on occasions, she could be as decided as +she thought necessary. This was one of the occasions. The interview +was nearly over. It had been short and to the point, which concerned +Sally.</p> + +<p>"Well, Everett," said Mrs. Morton decidedly, "your attitude towards +Sally Ladue must be changed. I haven't been able to point out, as +exactly as I should like to do, just where it fails to be +satisfactory. But it does fail, and it must be changed."</p> + +<p>Everett was standing by the mantel, a cigarette between his fingers. +"You do not make your meaning clear, my dear mother," he replied +coldly. "If you would be good enough to specify any speech of mine? +Anything that I have said, at any time?" he suggested. "If there has +been anything said or done for which I should apologize, I shall be +quite ready to do so. It is a little difficult to know what you are +driving at." And he smiled in his most exasperating way.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Morton's color had been rising and her eyes glittered. Everett +should have observed and taken warning. Perhaps he did.</p> + +<p>"Everett," she said, as coldly as he had spoken and more incisively, +"you exhibit great skill in evasion. I wish that you would use your +skill to better advantage. I have no reason to think that there have +been any words of yours with which I could find fault, although I do +not know what you have said. But Sally could be trusted to take care +of that. It is your manner."</p> + +<p>Everett laughed. "But, my dear mother!" he protested, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span>"I can't help +my manner. As well find fault with the color of my eyes or—"</p> + +<p>His mother interrupted him. "You can help it. It is of no use to +pretend that you don't know what I mean. You have wit enough."</p> + +<p>"Thank you."</p> + +<p>"And your manner is positively insulting. You have let even me see +that. Any woman would resent it, but she wouldn't speak of it. She +couldn't. Don't compel me to specify more particularly. You put Sally +in a very hard position, Everett, and in our own house, too. You ought +to have more pride, to say the least; the very least."</p> + +<p>Everett's color had been rising, too, as his mother spoke. "I am +obliged for your high opinion. May I ask what you fear as the +consequence of my insulting manner?"</p> + +<p>"You know as well as I," Mrs. Morton answered; "but I will tell you, +if you wish. Sally will go, of course, and will think as badly of us +as we deserve."</p> + +<p>"That," Everett replied slowly, "could perhaps be borne with +equanimity if she takes Doctor Sanderson with her."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Morton laughed suddenly. "Oh," she exclaimed, "so that is it! I +must confess that that had not occurred to me. Now, go along, Everett, +and for mercy's sake, be decent."</p> + +<p>Everett's color was still high, but if he felt any embarrassment he +succeeded in concealing it under his manner, of which his mother +seemed to have so high an opinion.</p> + +<p>He cast his cigarette into the fire. "If you have no more to say to +me, then, I will go," he said, smiling icily. His mother saying +nothing, but smiling at him, he bowed—English model—and was going +out.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Morton laughed again, suddenly and merrily. "Oh, Everett, +Everett!" she cried. "How old are you? I should think you were about +twelve."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," he replied; and he bowed again and left her.</p> + +<p>So Mrs. Morton had not been surprised when Sally came to her, a day or +two later, to say that she thought that they—Doctor Sanderson and +she—had imposed upon Mrs. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span>Morton's kindness long enough and that she +had found a boarding-place for her mother and Charlie and herself.</p> + +<p>"I am very sorry to say that I am not surprised, Sally, dear," Mrs. +Morton returned, "although I am grievously disappointed. I had hoped +that you would stay with us until the house was habitable again. I +have tried," she added in some embarrassment, "to correct—"</p> + +<p>Sally flushed quickly. "Please don't speak of it, dear Mrs. Morton," +she said hastily. "It is—there has been nothing—"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, Sally! Don't you suppose I see, having eyes? But we won't +speak of it, except to say that I am very sorry. And I think that you +wouldn't be annoyed again. Won't you think better of your decision and +stay until you can go to your own house?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, but nobody knows when that will be," Sally replied, smiling. +"Nothing has been done about it yet. Patty doesn't seem to know what +to do. Uncle John was the moving spirit." There were tears in her +eyes.</p> + +<p>"I know, Sally, dear, I know. I am as sorry as I can be. I am afraid," +she added with a queer little smile, "that I am sorrier for you than I +am for Patty."</p> + +<p>"Thank you. But you ought not to be, you know, for he rather—well, he +steadied Patty."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Morton laughed. "Yes, dear, I know. And you didn't need to be +steadied. But I'm afraid that I am, just the same."</p> + +<p>So it was settled, as anything was apt to be concerning which Sally +had made up her mind. Mrs. Ladue did not receive the announcement with +unalloyed joy. She smiled and she sighed.</p> + +<p>"I suppose it is settled," she said, "or you would not have told me. +Oh," seeing the distress in Sally's face, "it ought to be. It is quite +time. We have made a much longer visit upon Mrs. Torrington than we +ought to have made, but I can't help being sorry, rather, to exchange +her house for Mrs. Stump's. But why, Sally, if you found it +unpleasant—"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span>"Oh, mother, I didn't say it was unpleasant. Mrs. Morton was as kind +as any one could possibly be."</p> + +<p>"I am glad, dear. I was only going to ask why Fox stayed."</p> + +<p>Fox murmured something about Christian martyrs and a den of lions, and +Mrs. Ladue laughed. Then she sighed again.</p> + +<p>"Well," she said, "all right, Sally. You will let me know, I suppose, +when we are to go. We can't stay on here forever, although I'd like +to."</p> + +<p>At that moment Dick came in. "Why not?" he asked. "Why not stay, if +you like it?"</p> + +<p>"How absurd, Dick!" Sally protested. "You are very kind, but you know +mother will have to go pretty soon. And I've found a very good place."</p> + +<p>"If Sally says so, it's so," Dick retorted, "and there's no use in +saying any more about it. Mrs. Stump's or Miss Miller's?"</p> + +<p>Fox had been looking out of the window. He turned. "Mrs. Ladue," he +asked suddenly, "will you go sleighing with me to-morrow? It will be +about my last chance, for I go back when Sally leaves the Mortons'."</p> + +<p>"Oh," cried Sally, "why not me, too? And Henrietta?"</p> + +<p>Fox smiled at her. "There's a reason," he said. "I'll take you when +the time is ripe. I have something to show your mother and we have to +go after it."</p> + +<p>"Can't you get it and show it to me, too?"</p> + +<p>Fox shook his head. "I'm afraid not. It isn't mine, for one thing."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Sally, her head in the air. "And I suppose you'll go in the +morning, when I'm in school."</p> + +<p>"That might not be a bad idea. We might be followed. Can you go in the +morning, Mrs. Ladue?"</p> + +<p>She laughed and nodded. She would go at any time that suited him.</p> + +<p>So it chanced that Fox and Mrs. Ladue started out, the next morning. +Fox drove along Apple Tree Street and turned into another street.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span>"Isn't this Smith Street?" asked Mrs. Ladue doubtfully. "Where are we +going, Fox?"</p> + +<p>"I'm astonished at your question," he replied. "You ought to know that +this is still Witch Lane for all the old families, in spite of the +fact that it is known, officially, as Smith Street. I have yet a very +distinct recollection of Miss Patty's lamentations over the change. +That was ten years ago, when Sally first arrived."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ladue laughed. She would have laughed at anything that morning.</p> + +<p>"But, do you mind telling me where we are going?"</p> + +<p>"I can't tell you exactly, as I am not very familiar with the country +here. I know where I am going," he explained hastily, "but I doubt if +I could tell you. We shall come to the end of the built-up part pretty +soon, and then it takes us out into the country. There'll be a turn or +two, and what I want you to see is about two miles out. Mr. Morton," +he added, "put a horse at my service, and I have been exploring. I +have not wasted my time."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ladue made no reply. She was happy enough, without the need of +speech. They drove on, past the built-up part, as Fox had said, past +more thinly scattered houses, with little gardens, the corn-stubble +already beginning to show above the snow, here and there, for it had +been thawing. Then they began to pass small farms, and then, as they +made the first of the turn or two, the farms were larger, and there +were rows of milk-cans on their pegs in the sun.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Mrs. Ladue laughed. "Now I know where I am," she exclaimed. +"That is, I remember that Uncle John Hazen brought me out here one +day, nearly two years ago. He wanted to show me something, too."</p> + +<p>Fox turned and looked at her. "That is interesting," he said. "I +wonder if he showed you the same place that I am going to show you."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ladue only smiled mysteriously; and when, at last, Fox stopped +his horse and said "There!" she was laughing quietly. He looked +puzzled.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span>"The same," she said. "The very same."</p> + +<p>"Well," Fox replied slowly, "I admire his taste. It is worth looking +at."</p> + +<p>It was a very large house, looking out from beneath its canopy of elms +over a wide valley; a pleasant prospect of gentle hills and dales, +with the little river winding quietly below.</p> + +<p>"It is worth looking at," said Fox again. He looked at her, then. She +was not laughing, but there was a merry look in her eyes. "What amuses +you? I should rather like to know. Isn't my hat on straight?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head. "I'll tell you before long. But it is really +nothing." Truly it didn't need much to amuse her on that day.</p> + +<p>He looked at her again, then looked away. "The house looks as if it +might have been a hotel," he remarked; "a little hotel, with all the +comforts of home. It is very homelike. It seems to invite you."</p> + +<p>"Yes," she replied, "it does."</p> + +<p>"And the barn," he went on, "is not too near the house, but yet near +enough, and it is very well ordered and it has all the modern +improvements. All the modern improvements include a tiled milking-room +and, next to it, a tiled milk-room with all the most improved +equipment, and a wash-room for the milkers and a herd of about +twenty-five registered Guernseys. I know, for I have been over it."</p> + +<p>"That sounds very good. I know very little about such things."</p> + +<p>"I have had to know. It is a part of my business. That barn and that +outfit would be very convenient if the house were—for instance—a +private hospital. Now, wouldn't it?"</p> + +<p>She made no reply and he turned to her again. She was looking at him +in amazement, and her face expressed doubt and a dawning gladness.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Fox!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span>"Now, wouldn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she murmured, in a low voice.</p> + +<p>"And the house seems not unsuitable for such a purpose. I have not +been over the house."</p> + +<p>"Fox! Will you tell me what you mean?"</p> + +<p>He laughed out. "The old skinflint who lives there says he can't sell +it. He seemed very intelligent, too; intellect enough to name a price +if he wanted to. And I would not stick at the price if it were within +the bounds of reason."</p> + +<p>"I think," Mrs. Ladue remarked, "that I could tell you why your old +skinflint couldn't sell it."</p> + +<p>"Why?" Fox asked peremptorily.</p> + +<p>"When you have shown me all you have to show," she answered, the look +of quiet amusement again about her eyes and mouth, "I will tell you; +that is, if you tell me first what you mean."</p> + +<p>He continued looking for a few moments in silence. She bore his +scrutiny as calmly as she could. Then he turned, quickly, and drew the +reins tight.</p> + +<p>"Get up, you ancient scion of a livery stable." The horse started +reluctantly. "There is something else," he added, "just down the road +a bit."</p> + +<p>"I thought so," she said. "It is a square house, painted a cream +color, with a few elms around it, and quite a grove at a little +distance behind it."</p> + +<p>"It is. But you forgot the barn and the chicken-houses."</p> + +<p>She laughed joyously. "I didn't think of them."</p> + +<p>"And the well-sweep."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I didn't think of that, either."</p> + +<p>"I should really like to know how you knew," he observed, as if +wondering. "Perhaps it is not worth while going there. But I want to +see it again, if you don't."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I do. I am very much interested, and you know you are to tell me +what you are planning."</p> + +<p>"Yes," he replied. "I meant to tell you. That was what I brought you +for. But I thought you would be surprised and I hoped that you might +be pleased."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span>"Trust me for that, Fox, if your plans are what I hope they are. If +they are, I shall be very happy."</p> + +<p>They stopped in the road before the square house that was painted +cream color. Fox gazed at it longingly. It seemed to be saying, "Come +in! Come in!" and reaching out arms to him. There was the old well at +one side, with its great sweep. The ground about the well was bare of +snow and there was a path from it to the kitchen door. Thin curls of +smoke were coming lazily from each of the great chimneys.</p> + +<p>He sighed, at last, and turned to Mrs. Ladue. "I should like to live +there," he said.</p> + +<p>"You would find it rather a hardship, I am afraid," she returned, +watching him closely, "depending upon that well, picturesque as it +is."</p> + +<p>He laughed. "Easy enough to lay pipes from the hotel, back there." He +nodded in the direction of the larger house, the one of the +twenty-five Guernseys and the model barn. "They have a large supply +and a power pump. Ask me something harder."</p> + +<p>"The heating," she ventured. "Fires—open fires—are very nice and +necessary. But they wouldn't be sufficient."</p> + +<p>He laughed again. "It is not impossible to put in a heating-system. +One might even run steam pipes along with the water pipes and heat +from their boilers. I press the button, they do the rest."</p> + +<p>"Well, I can't seem to think of any other objection. And there is a +very good view."</p> + +<p>"A very good view," he repeated. He was silent for a while. "I have +done very well in the past five or six years," he said then, "and the +wish that has been growing—my dearest wish, if you like—has been to +establish a sort of private hospital about here somewhere. It wouldn't +be a hospital, exactly; anyway, my patients might not like the word. +And I should hate to call it a sanitarium. Call it Sanderson's +Retreat." He smiled at the words. "That's it. We'll call it +Sanderson's Retreat."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span>It would have warmed his heart if he could have seen her face; but he +was not looking.</p> + +<p>"I am very glad, Fox," she murmured. "That makes me very happy."</p> + +<p>"Sanderson's Retreat?" he asked, turning to her. "But I haven't got +it. Just as I thought I had found it I found that I couldn't get it."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps that old skinflint who lives there doesn't own it," she +suggested.</p> + +<p>"Of course I thought of that," he answered, with some impatience. "But +how am I to find out about it without exciting the cupidity of the +native farmers? Once aroused, it is a terrible thing. I might +advertise: 'Wanted, a place of not less than fifty acres, with large +house commanding a good view over a valley, a herd of about +twenty-five Guernseys, a barn with all the modern improvements, and a +power pump. Price no object.' Rather narrows it down a trifle."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ladue almost chuckled. "I won't keep you in suspense," she said. +"Uncle John owned it when he brought me out here. He told me so. And +he owned this house, too."</p> + +<p>"Uncle John!" cried Fox. "He knew a thing or two, didn't he? I wish I +had found it while he was living. Now, I suppose I shall have to buy +it of Miss Patty; that is, if I can. Who is the executor of the will? +Do you know?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head. "I haven't heard anything about the will, yet. I +think it's likely to be Dick Torrington. Uncle John seemed to like +Dick very much and he thought very well of him."</p> + +<p>"I'll see Dick Torrington to-day. We may as well go back." He turned +the horse about; then stopped again, looking back at the cream-colored +house. He looked for a long time. "It's very pleasant," he said, at +last, sighing. "Those trees, now—those in the grove—do they strike +you as being suitable for a gynesaurus to climb? Do they?" he asked +softly.</p> + +<p>His eyes looked into hers for a moment. His eyes were <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span>very +gentle—oh, very gentle, indeed, and somewhat wistful; windows of the +soul. At that moment he was laying bare his heart to her. She knew it; +it was a thing she had never known him to do before.</p> + +<p>She put her hand to her heart; an involuntary movement. "Oh, Fox!" she +breathed. "Oh, Fox!" Then she spoke eagerly. "Will you—are you going +to—"</p> + +<p>He smiled at her, and his smile was full of gentleness and patience. +"I hope so," he answered. "In the fullness of time. It is a part of my +dearest wish. Yes, when the time is ripe, I mean to. Not yet. She is +not ready for it yet."</p> + +<p>"She is nearly twenty-one," Mrs Ladue said anxiously, "and beginning +to be restless under her teaching. Don't wait too long, Fox. Don't +wait too long."</p> + +<p>"I have your blessing, then? I have your best wishes for my success?"</p> + +<p>"You know you have," she murmured, a little catch in her voice.</p> + +<p>"I thought that I could count on them," he replied gratefully, "but I +thank you for making me certain of it."</p> + +<p>She seemed as if about to speak; but she said nothing, after all. Fox +smiled and took up the reins again. The drive back was a silent one. +Fox was busy with his own thoughts; and Mrs. Ladue, it is to be +supposed, was busy with hers.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_VIII3" id="CHAPTER_VIII3"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER VIII<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>Dick Torrington was out when Fox called at his office, early that +afternoon. They were expecting him at any moment. He had not come back +from lunch yet. He did not usually stay so long and wouldn't Doctor +Sanderson take a seat and wait a few minutes? Accordingly, Doctor +Sanderson took a seat and waited a few minutes. He waited a good many +minutes. He read the paper through; then paced slowly up and down the +waiting-room. Were they sure Mr. Torrington would come back? Oh, yes, +they thought so. They did not know what could be keeping him. So +Doctor Sanderson thought he would wait a few minutes longer.</p> + +<p>The truth was that it was Henrietta who was keeping Dick away from his +office and his waiting clients. As she was to go within a few days, +Dick thought the time propitious for taking her for a last sleigh +ride; it might happen to be the last and it might not. Henrietta, too, +thought the time propitious. I don't know what Fox would have thought, +if he had known it. Most likely he would have grinned and have said +nothing, keeping his thoughts to himself. He was an adept at keeping +his thoughts to himself. But there is reason to believe that he would +not have waited. Just as his patience was utterly exhausted and he was +going out, Dick came in. There was a rather shamefaced grin of +pleasure on his face which changed to a welcoming smile when he saw +Fox. It was a very welcoming smile; more welcoming than the occasion +seemed to call for. Fox wondered at it. But he was not to find out the +reason that day.</p> + +<p>They came to business at once. Dick was the executor, but he had not +notified the beneficiaries under the will yet. It <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span>was really a very +short time since Mr. Hazen's death. Fox, wondering what that had to do +with the matter, protested mildly that the only question with him was +whether he could buy certain properties of the estate. He would prefer +to deal with Dick rather than with Miss Patty.</p> + +<p>Dick laughed. "Oh," he said, "I forgot that you didn't know. Those +pieces of property that you are after—I know very well what they +are," he interrupted himself to say, "and I can guess what you want +them for—those pieces of property were left to Sally. I shall have to +refer you to her."</p> + +<p>Fox's amazement was comical. "Left to Sally!" he exclaimed. "Well! And +it never occurred to me."</p> + +<p>"It probably has never occurred to Sally either," Dick suggested. "She +has more than that. Her uncle John was very fond of her."</p> + +<p>"I am sure that it has not occurred to Sally. What will Miss Patty +think?"</p> + +<p>Dick shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "Nobody does. I don't +know just how she feels toward Sally. If it were Charlie, now,—but it +isn't. About these properties, you will have to see Sally. She isn't +at liberty to dispose of them yet, but if she agrees to, there will be +no difficulty. I shall not stand in the way of your doing anything you +want to do with them. It happens that the lease of them runs out in a +few months. I really don't believe that Miss Patty will contest the +will, even if she doesn't just like it. Mr. Hazen's word was the law, +you know."</p> + +<p>Fox was looking out of the window and, as he looked, his glance +chanced to fall upon Miss Patty herself, stepping along in a way which +she had fondly flattered herself was dainty.</p> + +<p>He smiled. "You never can tell about these nervous patients," he +observed. "They may do anything—or they may not. But I think I'd +better see Sally and break the news."</p> + +<p>He found the chance on the evening of that same day. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span>Everett went +out, immediately after dinner, as was his habit, and Mrs. Morton left +them alone. Sally was reading.</p> + +<p>"Sally," said Fox, "I understand that you are an heiress."</p> + +<p>Sally put down her book suddenly and gave him a startled glance. "Oh," +she exclaimed, "I hope not! Who told you?"</p> + +<p>"Dick Torrington. He is the executor."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Fox!" she cried. She seemed dismayed. "And Dick knows. But Patty +will never forgive me. Can't I help it?"</p> + +<p>"No doubt," he replied, smiling, "but I hope you won't, for I want to +buy some of your property."</p> + +<p>She laughed joyously. "I'll give it to you, you mercenary man! At +last, Fox, I can get even with you—but only partly," she hastened to +add; "only partly. Please say that you'll let me give it to you."</p> + +<p>Fox was embarrassed. "Bless you, Sally!" he said. At that moment, he +was very near to heeding Mrs. Ladue's injunction not to wait too long. +He stopped in time. "Bless you, Sally! You have paid me. I don't need +money anyway."</p> + +<p>"Neither do I."</p> + +<p>"The time may come when you will. It is a handy thing to have," he +went on. "I promise to let you pay me some day," he added hastily, +seeing that she was about to insist, "in kind."</p> + +<p>Sally nodded with satisfaction. "I'll do it," she said, "in kind. That +usually means potatoes and corn and firewood, doesn't it."</p> + +<p>"Not this time, it doesn't. But I can't let you think of giving me +these places."</p> + +<p>"You can't help my thinking of giving them to you," she interrupted.</p> + +<p>"For you don't even know what they are," Fox continued. "I didn't mean +to tell you yet, but I have to." And he told her what he wanted to do; +but only a part. It is to be noted that he said nothing about +gynesauruses and coal-trees.</p> + +<p>When he had finished Sally sighed. "It's too bad that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span>I can't give +them to you, Fox. I think it would be a very good way; an excellent +way."</p> + +<p>"Excellent?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, excellent," Sally answered, looking at him and smiling in her +amused way. "Why isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! It's absurd; preposterous. It's positively shocking. Sally, +I'm surprised at you."</p> + +<p>Sally shook her head. "No," she said obstinately, "it's an excellent +way to do. You can't say why it isn't. Why, just think, then I should +feel that I could come there when I am old or when I break down from +overwork. Teachers are apt to break down, I understand, and now, when +they do, there seems to be no course open to them but to hire a +hearse—if they've saved money enough. Think how much easier I should +feel in my mind if Sanderson's Retreat were open to me." And Sally +chuckled at the thought.</p> + +<p>"But Sanderson's Retreat would be open to you in any case," Fox +protested. "You would not have to hire a hearse. It is my business to +prevent such excursions. Have I ever failed you, Sally?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Fox, never." There were tears in her eyes as she got up quickly +and almost ran to him. "Never, never, Fox. That is why, don't you see? +I want to do something for you, Fox. You have done so much for me—for +us."</p> + +<p>He was standing by the fire. As she came, he held out his hands and +she gave him both of hers. Ah! Doctor Sanderson, you are in danger of +forgetting your resolution; that resolution which you thought was so +wise. In truth, the words trembled on the tip of his tongue. But +Sally's "for us" brought him to his senses.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Sally, Sally!" he said ruefully. "You don't know. You don't +know."</p> + +<p>"Well," Sally replied impatiently, after she had waited in vain for +some moments for him to finish, "what don't I know? I don't know +everything. I am aware of that, and that is the first step to +knowledge."</p> + +<p>"You come near enough to it," he returned, as if speaking <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span>to himself. +He was looking down, as he spoke, into great gray eyes which, somehow, +were very soft and tender. He looked away. "Sometime you will know."</p> + +<p>"Everything?" asked Sally, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Everything that is worth knowing," he answered gently. "Yes, +everything that is worth knowing," he repeated, slowly.</p> + +<p>Sally pondered for a brief instant; then flushed a little, but so +little that you would scarcely have noticed it, especially if you had +been looking away from her, as Fox was at some pains to do.</p> + +<p>"We have not settled that question, Fox," she said. He still held her +hands, but he scarcely glanced at her. "Fox,"—giving him a gentle +shake,—"pay attention and look at me." He looked at her, trying not +to let his eyes tell tales. Very likely Sally would think they told of +no more than the brotherly affection which she had become used to, +from him. Very likely that was what she did think. She gave no sign +that she saw more than that, at any rate. "<i>Please</i> let me give them +to you," she pleaded, eagerly. "I want to."</p> + +<p>He shook his head. "Oh, Sally, Sally!" he said again. "It is hard +enough to refuse you anything; but I can't let you do this, for your +own sake. What would people think?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, fiddle! What business is it of theirs? And how would they know +anything about it?"</p> + +<p>"I have no doubt there are some who would at once institute inquiries. +You probably know such people."</p> + +<p>Sally chuckled. "Letty Lambkin might. But what would it matter if they +did?"</p> + +<p>"I should hate to think that I was responsible for making you talked +about."</p> + +<p>"Then you won't take them, Fox? Not even if I get down on my knees?" +Again there were tears in her eyes.</p> + +<p>Fox shook his head. "I can't," he said gently. "I can't take them on +those terms."</p> + +<p>Sally sighed and smiled. "So I am repulsed, then. My gifts are +spurned."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span>Fox was very uncomfortable. "But, Sally—" he began.</p> + +<p>She brightened suddenly. "I know!" she cried. "I'll lease them to you +for ninety-nine years. Isn't that what they do when they can't do +anything else? And you'll have to pay—oh, ever so much rent."</p> + +<p>He laughed. "All right. I guess that'll be as long as I shall have use +for them. But you'll have to charge me enough."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'll charge you enough," she said nodding; "never fear. I'll +consult Dick and take his advice. <i>Then</i> perhaps you'll be satisfied."</p> + +<p>"I'll be satisfied," he replied. "I'm very grateful, Sally."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! You're not. You're only complacent because you think you've +had your own way, and I didn't mean that you should have it." She took +her hands away at last. "Here's Mrs. Morton," she said gently.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_IX3" id="CHAPTER_IX3"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER IX<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>What Patty really thought about the provisions of her father's will is +not recorded. Indeed, it is doubtful whether she had anything more +nearly approaching consecutive thought on the subject than a vague +resentment toward Sally and a querulous disposition to find fault with +her. For, with the lapse of years, Patty was becoming less and less +able to think rationally—to direct her thoughts—or to think +consecutively on any subject. She had never been conspicuous for her +ability in that direction. What she said was another matter. What +business had Sally to benefit by her father's will? A poor relation +whom she, Patty, had befriended, no more. It never occurred to her to +blame her father any more than it occurred to her to tell the whole +truth about that little matter of befriending. Patty thought that she +told the truth. She meant to.</p> + +<p>There was some excuse for Patty's disappointment. One does not easily +rest content with but little more than half a fortune when one has, +for years, had reason to expect the whole of it. It was a modest +fortune enough, but the fact that it turned out to be nearly twice +what Patty had counted upon, and that, consequently, she was left with +just about what she had expected, did not make her disappointment any +the lighter, but rather the reverse. And she did not stop to consider +that she would be relieved of what she was pleased to term the burden +of supporting the Ladues, and that she would have, at her own +disposal, more money than she had ever had. Not at all. Even when Dick +pointed out to her that very fact, it did not change her feeling. +Somehow, she did not know exactly how, Sally had cheated her out of +her birthright. She wouldn't call it stealing, but—</p> + +<p>"No," Dick observed cheerfully. "I should think you <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span>had better not +call it that. It will be as well if you restrain your speech on the +subject."</p> + +<p>That was rather a strong remark for Dick Torrington to make, but he +felt strongly where Sally was concerned. He felt strongly where Patty +was concerned; but the feeling was different.</p> + +<p>It was not strange that, in the face of such feeling on Patty's part, +Sally should feel strongly, too. She did feel strongly. She was +genuinely distressed about it and would have been glad to give up any +benefits under the will, and she went to Dick and told him so. He +tried to dissuade her from taking such a course. There were other +aspects of such a case than the mere feeling of one of the heirs about +another. Why, wills would be practically upset generally if any one +heir, by making a sufficiently strong protest, could, to use Dick's +own words, freeze out the others, and it would be of little use for a +man to make a will if many were of Sally's mind. In this case, as +usually in such cases, the will expressed the testator's own +well-founded intention. Mr. Hazen had expected some such outburst from +Patty. Was that to prevent his wish, his will from being carried out? +He earnestly hoped not. All socialists to the contrary, +notwithstanding, he was of the opinion that any man, living or dead, +should be able to do as he liked with his own; that is, with certain +reasonable reservations, which would not apply in the case of her +Uncle John.</p> + +<p>"I suppose, Sally," he concluded, "that if he had given it to you +while he was living, you would have taken it, perhaps?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed," Sally replied indignantly. "Of course I wouldn't. What +made you think that, Dick?"</p> + +<p>"To tell the truth," he said, "I didn't think it. Well, would it make +any difference in your feeling about it to know that he felt that Miss +Patty was not competent to take care of it?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head and sighed. "I don't see that it would; I can't +unravel the right and wrong of it. If you think that <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span>my taking it +would have pleased Uncle John, and if you tell me that Patty has as +much as she can wish—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, not that. But she has enough to enable her to live in luxury the +rest of her life."</p> + +<p>Sally laughed. "We have great possibilities when it comes to wishing, +haven't we? And you advise my taking it?"</p> + +<p>"Most certainly."</p> + +<p>"Then I will."</p> + +<p>"I wonder why," Dick asked, "you don't want it?"</p> + +<p>She hesitated for an instant. "I do," she said, then, laughing again. +"That's just the trouble. If I hadn't wanted it I might have been more +ready to take it."</p> + +<p>She met Captain Forsyth on the way home. She had just been thinking +that, after all, she could let Fox go ahead with his Retreat. She +would not have to back out of that bargain, for which she was glad. +And there were other things—</p> + +<p>It was at this point in her reflections that Captain Forsyth bore down +and hailed her. She answered his hail with a smile and waited.</p> + +<p>"I was just going into Dick Torrington's office," he began, in a +gentle roar, "to get him to reason with you. I heard, Sally, that you +were thinking of refusing the legacy of your Uncle John."</p> + +<p>She nodded. "I was, but—"</p> + +<p>"Don't you do it," he shouted earnestly. He could have been heard for +a block, if there had been anybody to hear him. "Don't you do it, +Sally! You mustn't let Patty scare you out of taking what he meant +that you should have—what he wanted you to have. She'll have enough; +more than she can take care of. Patty couldn't take proper care of a +cat. And John Hazen was very fond of you, Sally. You do this much for +him."</p> + +<p>"I'm going to, Captain Forsyth," she answered gently. "I've just told +Dick so."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm glad," he said, with satisfaction. "It's been on my mind +for some days, and I thought I'd better see <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span>what I could do about it. +Your Uncle John said a good deal about you, first and last. He'd be +pleased. When you want anything, come to me; though you're not likely +to be wanting anything unless it's advice. I've barrels of that ready. +Good-bye, Sally."</p> + +<p>Sally went home—if Mrs. Stump's could be called home—rather +depressed in spirits. In spite of what people considered her good +fortune, she continued in low spirits all through that spring and +summer. Patty, to be sure, was covertly hostile, but that was hardly +enough to account for it. Sally was aware of the unhealthy state of +her mind and thought about it more than was good for her. It is a bad +habit to get into; a very reprehensible habit, and she knew it, but +she couldn't help it. You never can help doing it when you most +shouldn't. It reminded her of the shiftless man's roof, which needed +shingling.</p> + +<p>Very likely she was only tired with her winter's teaching and with the +events which had been crowded into those few weeks. They were +important events for her and had been trying. She began to hesitate +and to have doubts and to wonder. It was not like Sally to have +doubts, and she who hesitates is lost. She said so to herself many +times, with a sad little smile which would almost have broken Fox's +heart if he had seen it, and would surely have precipitated an event +which ought to have been precipitated.</p> + +<p>But Fox was not there to see it and to help her in her time of doubt, +and to be precipitate and unwise. She found herself wondering whether +she had better keep on with her teaching, now that she did not have +to. There was less incentive to it than there had been. Was it worth +while? Was anything worth while, indeed? What had she to look forward +to after years of teaching, when her enthusiasm was spent? Was it +already spent? What was there in it but going over the same old round, +year after year? What was there at the end? If the children could be +carried on, year after year—if they were her own—and Sally blushed +faintly and stopped there.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span>But she wondered whether Henrietta had been right. What Henrietta had +said so lightly, the night of the fire, had sunk deeper than Sally +knew or than Henrietta had intended. Sally was beginning to think that +Henrietta was right and that girls, down at the bottom of their +hearts, were looking for men. She didn't like to confess it to +herself. She shrank from the whole subject; but why shouldn't +they—the girls—provided it is only at the bottom of their hearts? +They did; some of them did, at any rate. It is doubtful whether Sally +probed as deep as the bottom of her heart. Perhaps she was afraid to.</p> + +<p>Yes, as I started out by saying, no doubt she was only tired,—beat +out, as Miss Lambkin would have said; and she was lonelier than she +had ever been. She missed Uncle John. It seemed to her that there was +nobody to whom she could turn. Probably Captain Forsyth had had some +such idea when he made his clumsy offer of advice. But Captain Forsyth +would not do. Sally would have been glad enough of somebody to turn +to. It was a peculiarly favorable time for Fox, if he had only known +it. It was a rather favorable time for anybody; for Jane Spencer, or +even for Everett Morton. For Everett had begun, as anybody could see +with half an eye, as Letty Lambkin put it briskly. Altogether Sally's +affairs had become a fit topic of conversation for people who bother +themselves about other people's business.</p> + +<p>Miss Lambkin did. She had tried to talk with Mrs. Sarjeant about the +matter, but Mrs. Sarjeant had promptly shut her up. Whereupon Miss +Lambkin, with her head in the air, had betaken herself to Mrs. Upjohn.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Upjohn did not shut her up. She wanted to hear what Letty had to +tell and she wished to contribute whatever she could, that Letty did +not know, to the fund of general information; without seeming to, of +course.</p> + +<p>"Well, Alicia," Letty began, as soon as she had got into the house and +before she had had time to remove her hat, "I thought I'd come and do +for you now, even if it is a week <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span>before the time I set. Mrs. +Sarjeant can wait awhile, I guess. She can't need me. She told me +yesterday that she didn't care to listen to gossip. As if I gossiped, +Alicia! Why, I was only saying that Sally Ladue and Everett seemed to +be pretty thick now, and I shouldn't wonder if they hit it off. And I +shouldn't, either, Mrs. Sarjeant or no Mrs. Sarjeant. Anybody can see +he's paying her attention and she's letting him." Miss Lambkin shut +her lips with a snap. "Now, isn't he?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Upjohn did not answer her directly. She only laughed comfortably +and suggested that they go right up to the sewing-room.</p> + +<p>"Patty made you quite a visit, didn't she?" Letty began again, while +she hunted scissors and needles and a tape. "Did you have to send her +off to Miss Miller's?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Upjohn shook her head.</p> + +<p>"That's a good thing. It wouldn't have been pleasant," Miss Lambkin +resumed. "I hear that she's feeling real bitter towards Sally and that +Sally means to live somewhere else, whether Patty repairs the house or +not, but Patty won't hear to it. I notice, though, that nothing's been +done to the house yet. I'm told that Patty's going right at it. She'd +better, if she wants to live there before next summer, for this is +September and the builders are awful deliberate. Now that Doctor +Sanderson doesn't let the grass grow under his feet. Did you know that +his new hospital's going to be ready before cold weather? And he +hasn't been here, himself, more 'n a day at a time. Where's that +little cutting-table, Alicia? In your room? I'll just run in and get +it. You sit still."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Upjohn did not like to trust Letty alone in her room, for she had +the eye of a hawk; but Letty was gone before she could prevent her. +She was back in a moment, and Mrs. Upjohn breathed more freely.</p> + +<p>"As I was saying," Miss Lambkin continued, "that Doctor Sanderson had +better be looking out if he wants Sally Ladue. Maybe he don't, but I +notice that Eugene Spencer's <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span>fluttering around her again and +Everett's doing more'n flutter.</p> + +<p>"It seems queer to think of Everett as anything but what he has been +for some years. He isn't much in favor with some of the older men. I +heard that Cap'n Forsyth said that he wouldn't trust him with a +slush-bucket. And that pup of a brother of Sally's is copying after +Everett as well as he can. He's going to college in a couple of weeks +and there's no telling what he'll be up to there. I'm glad I don't +have the running of him. Everett's no pattern to cut <i>my</i> goods to."</p> + +<p>"No," agreed Mrs. Upjohn soberly. "I can't think what has come over +Sally. I never thought she would be dazzled, though I won't deny that +Everett can be attractive."</p> + +<p>"Come to that," snapped Miss Lambkin, "Everett's handsome and rich +and, as you say, he knows how to be attractive. Anyway, there's a +plenty that would be only too glad to have a chance at him. Now, if +you were of a suitable age, Alicia, you'd snap him up quick enough if +you had the chance, and you know it."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Upjohn only murmured an unintelligible protest, but her color +rose. She would have snapped him up, and she knew it. Letty Lambkin +was really getting to be unbearable.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_X3" id="CHAPTER_X3"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER X<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>Charlie Ladue was a bright boy and a handsome boy, and he had good +enough manners. His attempts at seeming bored and uninterested only +amused certain intelligent persons in Cambridge, to whom he had +introductions, and attracted them. He was very young and rather +distinguished looking and these were the hallmarks of youth; of youth +which wishes to be thought of an experience prehistoric; of youth +which dreads nothing else so much as to appear young. He would get +over these faults quickly; and these intelligent persons laughed +quietly to themselves and continued to ask him to their houses—for a +time. But the faults rather grew upon him than lessened, so that he +became a nuisance and seemed likely to become worse, and they quietly +dropped him, before he was half through his freshman year.</p> + +<p>His faults were his own, of course. Faults always are one's own when +all is said and done, and they usually come home to roost; but that +they had developed to such an extent was largely due to Patty's +indulgence and over-fondness. She was to blame, but not wholly. It is +hard to fix the blame, even supposing that it would help the matter to +fix it. When they came to Whitby, Sally was too young to oppose Miss +Patty, and for four years Charlie had no mother; much longer, indeed. +The circumstances may have been Charlie's undoing, but it is a little +difficult to see why the circumstances did not do the same for Sally, +and she was not undone yet. No, I am forced to the conclusion, that, +in Charlie's case, circumstances could not be held responsible for +anything more than hurrying things up a little.</p> + +<p>As I said, Charlie was very young. He had passed his finals with +flying colors in the preceding June, nearly two <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span>months before his +seventeenth birthday, and he was but just seventeen when he began his +college career. Whatever may be said, seventeen is too young for a boy +to enter college and to be given the large liberties which a boy—a +college "man"—has in any of our large colleges. Eighteen or nineteen +is a much safer age, especially for a boy like Charlie Ladue. The +faults which I have mentioned soon disgusted and repelled the most +desirable elements in college and left him with—not one of—the least +desirable. Even with them he was only tolerated, never liked, and they +got out of him what they could. With them there was no incentive to +study, which was a pity, for Charlie did very well with a surprisingly +small amount of work, and would have done exceedingly well with a +little more, but he needed compulsion in some form. As it was, he very +soon got to doing just enough to keep himself afloat. He could study +hard when he had to, and he did.</p> + +<p>Patty had got to work, at last, upon the repairs to her house. It was +October before she made up her mind and well into November before work +began; and builders are awful deliberate, as Miss Lambkin had +remarked. As the work went on, the time when the house would be ready +retreated gradually into the future. But Miss Patty consoled herself +with the thought that Charlie would not be able to help her occupy it +before the next summer anyway. Although she had insisted that Mrs. +Ladue and Sally should live there as soon as it was ready,—it was a +question of pride with Miss Patty, not a question of her wish in the +matter,—and although she was expecting them to live there, it was by +no means sure that Sally would consent to come. Miss Patty did not +trouble herself greatly about that. But the thought that Charlie might +not would have filled her with consternation. She was looking forward +to the Christmas recess, and to having Charlie with her for two weeks, +at least.</p> + +<p>But when the Christmas recess arrived and work was over, Charlie, +feeling much relieved, sat down to a quiet evening <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span>with four +congenial spirits who also felt much relieved and who wished to +celebrate their temporary freedom in the only way they knew. I was +wrong in calling it the only way. It was one of the few ways they knew +in which to celebrate anything. When Charlie rose from the table, +about midnight, he felt rather desperate, for he had lost heavily. He +could not afford to lose heavily.</p> + +<p>One of the congenial spirits saw the look upon his face and laughed. +"Don't you care, Ladue," he cried. "All is not lost. You needn't +commit suicide yet. We'll stake you. Haven't you got a dollar left?"</p> + +<p>Charlie forced a sickly smile, which disappeared the instant he ceased +to force it. He pulled out the contents of his pockets. "I've got," he +answered, counting soberly, "just fifty-four cents in cash. They'll +expect me home to-night—they expected me last night," he corrected +himself, "I can't go, for I haven't got the price of a ticket. And +I've given you fellows my IOU's," he went on, looking up with an +attempt to face it out,—a pitiful attempt,—"for—how much, Ned?"</p> + +<p>"Two hundred for mine," Ned replied, spreading Charlie's poor little +notes on the table. "Anybody else got 'em?" He looked around, but the +others shook their heads. "It seems to be up to me to lend you, +Ladue." Carelessly, he tossed a ten-dollar bill across the table. "Go +home on that and see if you can't work the house for three hundred or +so and take these up. Don't thank me." Charlie had taken the bill and +begun to speak. "I'm doing it for cash, not sentiment. What do you +suppose these IOU's are worth if you can't work somebody for the +money?"</p> + +<p>Charlie, reduced to silence, pocketed the bill.</p> + +<p>"I've a notion," Ned continued, "that I'll go to town and look in at +number seven. Luck's with me to-night. May do something there. Who +goes with me?"</p> + +<p>The others professed the intention of going to bed.</p> + +<p>"You know, don't you," Ned threw out as an inducement, "that some man +back in the nineties paid his way through <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span>college on number seven? +Made an average of three thousand a year."</p> + +<p>"What's that story?" Charlie asked. "I haven't heard it."</p> + +<p>Ned enlightened him. "It's nothing much," he said carelessly, "only +that some man—it may have been Jones or Smith—in the class of +ninety-something, used to go in to number seven regularly, two or +three times a week all through his four years here, and he made an +average of three thousand a year. Broke the bank twice."</p> + +<p>Charlie was wide-eyed with amazement. "Why," he began, "if he could do +that, I don't see why—"</p> + +<p>Ned laughed. "They have," he said. "Don't you run away with the idea +that number seven hasn't made a profit out of Davis or Jones or +whatever his name was. They advertise it all right. That story has +brought them in a great deal more than three thousand a year. But this +man had a system; a very simple one, and a very good one."</p> + +<p>"What was it?" Charlie asked. "Can you tell me?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly I can," Ned answered, smiling. "He had a cool head and he +knew when to stop. And there isn't one in three thousand that knows +when to stop, if they've got the bug."</p> + +<p>"I don't see," Charlie remarked loftily, "why anybody wouldn't know +when to stop."</p> + +<p>"Well, they don't, kid," Ned replied sharply.</p> + +<p>Charlie was silent for a while, digesting the information he had +acquired. Ned got up to go.</p> + +<p>"Will—will you take me, Ned?" Charlie asked hesitatingly.</p> + +<p>Ned looked him over scornfully. The idea did not appeal to him. "You +don't want to go, Ladue," he said pityingly. At the bottom of his +heart he did not wish to be responsible in the remotest degree for +Charlie's career. It did not need a seer to guess at Charlie's +weakness. "Number seven is no place for you and I'd advise you to keep +out of it. It's a regular game, there; a man's game. They'd skin <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span>you +alive without a quiver. They won't take any of your pieces of paper +and they won't give you back any ten dollars, either. I wouldn't +advise you to go there, kid."</p> + +<p>That "kid" settled it, if there was anything needed to settle what may +have been ordained from his birth. At any rate, it was ordained that +he should not overcome the inclination to that particular sin of his +father without a struggle, and if there was one special thing which +Charlie was not fitted to do it was to struggle in such a cause. He +flushed.</p> + +<p>"Only to look on," he pleaded. "It was just to look on that I wanted +to go. I didn't mean to play, of course."</p> + +<p>"No, of course not. They never do," Ned retorted cynically. Then he +considered briefly, looking at Charlie the while with a certain +disgust. Having given him advice which was certainly good, he had no +further responsibility in the matter. "All right," he said. "If you're +bound to go, I can get you by the nigger at the door, although he'd +probably let you in anyway. You're a very promising subject."</p> + +<p>So it happened that Patty waited in vain for Charlie. For a day she +thought only that he must have been delayed—he was—and that, +perhaps, he was staying in Cambridge to finish something in connection +with his studies. She did not get so far as to try to imagine what it +was, but she wondered and felt some resentment against the college +authorities for keeping such a good boy as Charlie. On the second day +she began to wonder if he could have gone to Mrs. Stump's to see his +mother. She gave that question mature consideration and decided that +he had. On the third day she was anxious about him and would have +liked to go to Mrs. Ladue or to Sally and find out, but she did not +like to do that. And on the morning of the next day Sally saved her +the trouble by coming to ask about him.</p> + +<p>Patty was too much frightened to remember her grievance against Sally. +"Why, Sally," she said in a voice that trembled and with her hand on +her heart, which had seemed to stop its beating for a moment, "I +thought he was with you."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span>Sally shook her head. "We thought he must be here."</p> + +<p>"He hasn't been here," wailed poor Patty. "What can be keeping him? +Oh, do you suppose anything has happened to him?"</p> + +<p>Sally's lip curled almost imperceptibly and the look in her eyes was +hard.</p> + +<p>"I don't know, Patty, any more than you do."</p> + +<p>"But I don't know anything," Patty cried. Sally gave a little laugh in +spite of herself. "What shall we do? Oh, what shall we do, Sally?"</p> + +<p>Sally thought for an instant, and then she turned to Patty. "I will +take the noon train up."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Sally!" It was a cry of relief. "Couldn't you telegraph first? +And couldn't you ask Doctor Beatty to go, instead, or Doctor +Sanderson?"</p> + +<p>"I could ask Doctor Beatty to go, but I don't intend to," she said +finally, "and Fox is not here. His hospital isn't ready yet, you know. +They couldn't get him any more easily than I can. And as to +telegraphing, I don't think that would help."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Patty doubtfully, "I don't—do you think you ought to go +alone?"</p> + +<p>Sally turned and looked at her. "Why not?"</p> + +<p>Before the gray eyes Patty's eyes fell. "I—I don't know, exactly. But +it hardly seems quite—quite proper for a girl to go alone to—to a +college room."</p> + +<p>Sally chuckled. "I must risk it," she said. "I think I can. And if +Charlie is in any trouble I'll do my best to get him out of it."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Sally!" It was not a cry of relief.</p> + +<p>Sally paid no attention to that cry of Patty's. "I must go back to get +ready," she said. "I haven't any too much time."</p> + +<p>But Sally did not take the noon train up. Just as she was leaving Mrs. +Stump's, she met Charlie coming in. He looked rather seedy and quite +forlorn.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_XI3" id="CHAPTER_XI3"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER XI<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>When Charlie went back, he was feeling rather elated, for he had two +hundred and fifty dollars in his pocket. That was all the cash Patty +could raise without making an appeal to Dick Torrington or making some +other arrangement which would have betrayed her, and that would not +have done. It would not have done at all. Sally might have heard of +it, and Patty, to tell the truth, was afraid of Sally. Sally was +so—so decided, you know, and so downright, and she could be so hard +about anything that concerned Charlie. Sally was not fair to +Charlie—the dear boy! What if he was a little extravagant? All young +men must have their fling. So Patty, with but the vaguest ideas of +what the fling was,—she could think only of fireworks and yelling, +although three hundred dollars will buy a great deal of fireworks and +yelling is cheap,—Patty, I say, feeling very low in pocket and in +spirits, bade Charlie an affectionate farewell and returned to Miss +Miller's. She spent the afternoon in casting up her accounts and in +biting the end of her pencil; occupations from which she derived but +little satisfaction. She could not seem to make the accounts come out +right and the end of a pencil, even the best, becomes a little cloying +to the taste in time.</p> + +<p>Charlie's parting injunction had been really unnecessary. "Don't tell +Sally, will you, Patty?" he had said in a voice from which he tried in +vain to keep the note of exultation. There was little danger of that. +Patty was as anxious as Charlie was to keep all knowledge of the +transaction from Sally. And Patty sighed and cast up her accounts all +over again. There was no escape from it. She must look the matter in +the face. The absence of that two hundred and fifty would make a great +difference to her; it would leave her <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span>absolutely without ready money +for more than a month, or—or, perhaps,—and she stared out of the +window with unseeing eyes—she could manage to borrow—or ask Miss +Miller to trust her—or somebody—But that would not make up half and +everybody would know about it; and she sighed again and put down the +remains of the pencil with its chewed end and put the paper into her +waste-basket. She had given it up. She would trust to luck. She never +was any good at arithmetic anyway.</p> + +<p>What specious arguments Charlie had used to persuade her I do not +know. It does not matter and she probably did not give them much +attention. Charlie wanted the money. That was the point with her as it +was the point with him. What were arguments and explanations? Mere +words. But she noted that his watch was gone. Patty, herself, had +given it to him only the year before. She could not help asking about +that, in a somewhat hesitating and apologetic way.</p> + +<p>Charlie set her doubts at rest at once. "Oh, that?" he said +carelessly. "It needed cleaning and I left it." He gave the same +answer to Sally when she asked about it.</p> + +<p>"Huh!" was Sally's only answer, as she turned away.</p> + +<p>Charlie had not said anything in reply, although that monosyllable of +Sally's, which expressed much, had made him angry enough to say almost +anything, if only he knew what to say. He didn't; and the very fact +that he didn't made him angrier than ever. He stammered and stuttered +and finished by clearing his throat, at which performance Sally smiled +heartlessly.</p> + +<p>Charlie had been badly shaken and had not had time to recover. But +neither Sally nor Patty had an idea of what Charlie had been through. +It was just as well that they had not; just as well for Charlie's +comfort and for Patty's. Sally had more imagination than Patty had and +she had had more experience. She could picture to herself any number +of scrapes that Charlie might have got himself into and they did not +consist solely of fireworks and yelling. They <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span>were much nearer the +truth than that vague image of Patty's, and if Sally did not hit upon +the exact situation it is to be remembered that she did not know about +the money which Charlie had succeeded in extracting from Patty.</p> + +<p>But Sally's imaginings were bad enough. They were sufficient to +account for her heavy heart, although they were not necessary to +account for it. Sally usually had a heavy heart now, which was a great +pity and not necessary either. What had come over her? It troubled her +mother to see her so depressed. She may have attributed it to the +wrong cause or she may not. Mothers are very apt to be right about +such matters. Her anxious eyes followed Sally about. Finally she could +not refrain from speaking.</p> + +<p>"Sally, dear," she asked, "what is the matter?"</p> + +<p>Sally smiled a pitiful little smile. "Why, I don't know, mother. Is +anything the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Something must be. A girl like you doesn't get so low-spirited for +nothing. It has been going on for nearly a year now. What is it, +Sally? Can't you tell me, dear?"</p> + +<p>"I wish I could, mother. I wish I knew. If I knew, I would tell you. I +don't. I only know that nothing seems to be worth while and that I +can't care about anything. A pity, isn't it?" And Sally smiled again.</p> + +<p>"Sally, don't! If you smile like that again you will make me cry."</p> + +<p>"I won't make you cry, mother. It is no trouble for me to keep from +smiling."</p> + +<p>"Are you—aren't you well, Sally?"</p> + +<p>Sally stretched her arms above her head. She was getting to be rather +a magnificent woman. "I can't raise a single symptom," she said. "I'm +absolutely well, I think. You might get Doctor Beatty to prod me and +see if he can find anything wrong."</p> + +<p>"I would rather have Fox."</p> + +<p>Sally flushed very faintly. "Not Fox, mother. I didn't mean it, +really. I'm sure there is nothing the matter with my health. I could +give you a catalogue: appetite <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span>good—fairly good, I sleep well, I—I +can't think of anything else."</p> + +<p>"Mind?" her mother asked, smiling.</p> + +<p>"A blank," said Sally promptly, with a hint of her old brightness. "My +mind is an absolute blank. So there you are where you started."</p> + +<p>"Is it your teaching, dear? Are you too tired?"</p> + +<p>"Do I look as if I ought to be tired?" Sally returned scornfully. She +did not look so, certainly. She was taller than her mother and +long-limbed and lean, and she looked fit to run races or climb trees +or to do anything else that required suppleness and quickness and to +do it exceedingly well. "I ought to be ashamed of myself and I am, but +I feel as if I could murder those children and do it cheerfully; +without a single pang. It makes me wonder whether I am fitted to +teach, after all."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Sally!"</p> + +<p>Sally made no reply, but sat down on the bed and gazed out of the +window at nothing in particular. To be sure, she could not have seen +anything worth while: only the side of the next house, not fifty feet +away, and the window of a bedroom. She could have seen into the room, +if she had been at all curious, and have seen the chambermaid moving +about there.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ladue looked at her daughter sitting there so apathetically. She +looked long and her eyes grew more anxious than ever. Sally did not +seem to be aware of the scrutiny.</p> + +<p>"Sally," she began hesitatingly.</p> + +<p>Sally turned her head. "Well?"</p> + +<p>"I have heard some rumors, Sally," Mrs. Ladue went on, hesitating more +than ever, "about—about Everett. I didn't believe there was any truth +in them and I have said so. I was right, wasn't I? There isn't +anything, is there?"</p> + +<p>"What sort of thing?" Sally did not seem to care. "What were the +rumors, mother?"</p> + +<p>"Why," said her mother, with a little laugh of embarrassment, "they +were most absurd; that Everett was paying <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span>you marked attention and +that you were encouraging him."</p> + +<p>"No, that is not so. I have not encouraged him."</p> + +<p>Her answer seemed to excite Mrs. Ladue. "Well, is it true that he +is—that he has been paying you attention for a long time?"</p> + +<p>"I have seen him more or less, but it is nothing that I have been +trying to conceal from you. What does it matter?"</p> + +<p>"It matters very much, dear; oh, very much." Mrs. Ladue was silent for +a moment. "Then I gather," she resumed in a low voice, "that you have +not discouraged his attentions?"</p> + +<p>"No," Sally replied listlessly, "I have not discouraged them. Assuming +that they are anything more than accident, I—what do I care? It makes +no difference to me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Sally!" Tears came into Mrs. Ladue's eyes. "You must know better +than any one else whether he means anything or not; what his +intentions are."</p> + +<p>"He may not have any intentions," Sally answered. "I don't know what +he means—but that is not true; not strictly. I know what he says, but +not what he thinks. I don't believe there is anybody who knows what +Everett thinks." And she gave a little laugh which was almost worse +than one of her smiles. "His intentions, assuming that he has any, are +well enough."</p> + +<p>The situation seemed to be worse than Mrs. Ladue had imagined in her +most doubtful moments. "But, Sally," she said anxiously, "is +there—oh, I hate to ask you, but I must. Is there any kind of an +understanding between you and Everett?"</p> + +<p>"Not on my part, mother," Sally replied rather wearily. "Now let's +talk about something else."</p> + +<p>"Be patient with my questions just a little longer," said her mother +gently. "I can't drop the subject there. Has—do you think Everett has +any right to understand anything that you don't? Have you let him +understand anything?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span>Sally did not answer for what seemed to her mother a long time. "I +don't know," she answered at last, "what he thinks. To be perfectly +plain, Everett has not asked me to marry him, but he may feel sure +what my answer would be if he did decide to. I don't know. He is a +very sure kind of a person, and he has reason to be. That is the +extent of the understanding, as you call it."</p> + +<p>"But, surely, you know what your answer would be," remonstrated Mrs. +Ladue in a low voice. "It isn't right, Sally, to let him think one +thing when you mean to do the opposite. I hope," she added, struck by +a fresh doubt—a most uncomfortable doubt, "that you do mean to do the +opposite. There can be no question about that, can there?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," Sally replied slowly, "what I should do. I've thought +about it and I don't know."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ladue's hand went up to her heart involuntarily, and she made no +reply for some time. "Drifting?" she asked at last.</p> + +<p>Sally looked toward her mother and smiled. "Drifting, I suppose. It's +much the easiest."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ladue's hand was still at her heart, which was beating somewhat +tumultuously.</p> + +<p>"Don't, Sally! Don't, I beg of you. Your whole life's happiness +depends upon it. Remember your father. Everett's principles are no +better than his, I feel sure. You have been so—so sturdy, Sally. +Don't spoil your life now. You will find your happiness." She was on +the verge of telling her, but she checked herself in time. That was +Fox's business. He might be right, after all. "This mood of yours will +pass, and then you would wear your life out in regrets. Say that you +won't do anything rash, Sally."</p> + +<p>"Don't worry, mother. It really doesn't matter, but I won't do +anything rash. There!" She laughed and kissed her mother. "I hope that +satisfies you. You were getting quite excited."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ladue had been rather excited, as Sally said. Now she was crying +softly.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span>"You don't know what this means to me, Sally, and I can't tell you. I +wish—oh, I wish that I had your chance! You may be sure that I +wouldn't throw it away. You may be sure I wouldn't." She wiped her +eyes and smiled up at Sally. "There! Now I am all right and very much +ashamed of myself. Run along out, dear girl. You don't get enough of +out-of-doors, Sally."</p> + +<p>So Sally went out. She meant to make the most of what was left of the +short winter afternoon. She hesitated for a moment at the foot of the +steps. "It's Fisherman's Cove," she said then quite cheerfully. "And I +don't care when it gets dark or anything."</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_XII3" id="CHAPTER_XII3"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER XII<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>Fisherman's Cove was a long way from Mrs. Stump's boarding-house, but +that fact gave Sally no concern. And Fisherman's Cove was much changed +from the Cove that Uncle John used to tell her about, where he had +been used to go to see the men haul the seines. Its waters had been +fouled by the outpourings of a sewer, and the fish had deserted them +years before; but that would not make the ice any the less attractive +with a young moon shining upon it.</p> + +<p>And the way to Fisherman's Cove was not the way that Uncle John had +been in the habit of taking. His way, fifty years before, had led him +out upon a quiet country road until he came to a little lane that led +down, between high growths of bushes, to a little farmhouse. The +farmhouse had overlooked the Cove. Sally could not go through the +little lane to the little old farmhouse, because the farmhouse was not +there now, and because there was a horrible fence of new boards right +across the lane. They had been building mills on the shores of +Fisherman's Cove for thirty years; and the ice ponds on which the boys +and girls of thirty years before used to skate—Miss Patty had skated +there, often—were no longer ice ponds, but thriving mill villages, +with their long rows of brilliantly lighted windows and their neat +tenements, the later ones of three stories, each story having its neat +clothes-porch. If you don't know what a clothes-porch is, just go down +there and see for yourself. And these neat tenements of three stories +each sheltered I don't know how many families of Portuguese +mill-workers, who may have been neat, but who probably were not. +Thriving! Ugh! as Miss Patty invariably said, turning her head away. +She did not have to go that way often, but when she did <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span>have to she +preferred to shut her eyes until her horse had taken her past it all.</p> + +<p>Besides, Mrs. Stump's was not on Apple Tree Street, but in a much less +fashionable neighborhood; one which had been fashionable some seventy +or eighty years before. As fashion left that street and moved upon the +ridge, the fine old houses—for they were fine old houses, even +there—gradually fell in their estate. The way from Mrs. Stump's to +Fisherman's Cove did not lie by that thriving mill village which has +been mentioned, but by other thriving mill villages, with their +tenements which, being older, were presumably not so neat. There was +little to choose between the ways. Either was disagreeable enough, +especially at any time when the hands were in the street, and no girl +would have chosen such a time to walk upon that road. Even Sally would +have avoided it; but the mill-hands were now shut up in their mills +and working merrily or otherwise, and she did not give the matter a +thought.</p> + +<p>As she started upon her road, a man who had been leaning negligently +upon a post at the next corner, bestirred himself, unleaned, and came +toward her. Sally glanced up at him and stopped. "Oh, dear!" she said, +in a voice of comical dismay. "Oh, dear! And I promised mother that I +wouldn't do anything rash."</p> + +<p>The man continued to come toward her. He had a leisurely air of +certainty which ordinarily would have antagonized Sally at once.</p> + +<p>"Well, Sally?" he said questioningly, when he was near enough to be +heard without raising his voice.</p> + +<p>"Well, Everett," Sally returned, with some sharpness. "I should really +like to know what you were doing on that corner."</p> + +<p>"Doing?" he asked in surprise. "Why, nothing at all. I was only +waiting for you."</p> + +<p>"And why," she said, with more sharpness than before, "if you were +waiting for me, didn't you come to the house and wait there?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span>"I don't like to go to boarding-houses and wait," he replied, smiling. +"I have a prejudice against boarding-houses, although I have no doubt +that Mrs. Stump's is an excellent house. And my going there might +excite some comment."</p> + +<p>"Is it your idea," Sally retorted quickly, "that your waiting on the +next corner will not excite comment? There has been too much comment +already."</p> + +<p>"Well, Sally, what if there has been a certain amount of it? We don't +care, do we?"</p> + +<p>"I am not sure that we don't," she answered slowly, looking him in the +face thoughtfully. "I am not sure. In fact, I think we do."</p> + +<p>He flushed a little under her direct gaze. That subject was not to be +pursued.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I am going for a walk," she replied; "for a long walk. And I—"</p> + +<p>"Then you'd better ride," he said quickly, interrupting her. "I can +get Sawny in five minutes. Where will you be?"</p> + +<p>"No," Sally spoke earnestly. "Don't. I'd rather not. I prefer to walk. +And, Everett, I'd rather you wouldn't go with me. I want to take this +walk alone."</p> + +<p>Everett was surprised. It was rather a shock to find that he wasn't +wanted.</p> + +<p>"Oh," he said coldly. "Very well. I hope you will have a most pleasant +walk to—wherever you are going."</p> + +<p>Sally's heart was too tender. Everett seemed hurt, and she didn't like +to feel that she had hurt him. "I am going to Fisherman's Cove," she +said.</p> + +<p>"Fisherman's Cove! But you know that will take you through the heart +of milltown."</p> + +<p>"Yes, but the mills aren't out. I'll come back early."</p> + +<p>"It's not a way for a girl to choose."</p> + +<p>Sally smiled. "I'll be all right, I think."</p> + +<p>Everett shrugged his shoulders. "You'd much better let me drive you. +We can go to the Cove as well as elsewhere."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span>Sally shook her head gently.</p> + +<p>"As you please," he said; and he shrugged again and turned away.</p> + +<p>Sally looked after him for a moment. "Oh, dear," she sighed. "Now I've +offended him—mortally, I suppose. But it doesn't matter. I was +forgetting. Nothing really matters." It didn't matter. It might be +better if she had offended him mortally if he would stay offended.</p> + +<p>So Sally put aside all thoughts of Everett and resumed her walk. She +had no great difficulty in putting aside thoughts of him. I do not +know what her thoughts were, as she walked on towards the Cove, but it +is safe to say that they were not of Everett. She must have been +thinking pretty deeply of something, for she took her way +unconsciously and without seeing where she was going; and she passed +the few people that she met without seeing them or being conscious +that they were there. Walking so, like one asleep, she came to the end +of that street, where it runs into River Street.</p> + +<p>River Street is a dirty street. Its best friends could not say more +for it. The reason is not far to seek; and a part of that reason is +that, for many years—say sixty years or even seventy—it has served +for a residence street for the same class of people. Residence street +is perhaps rather a high-sounding name for it. You may use any other +words that you like better, for River Street, from the point where +Sally entered it to within a half-dozen blocks of the centre of the +town, was, for long years, the one place where certain people lived. +It was so wholly given up to those people that it was known as Fayal; +and Fayal had a reputation which was not altogether savory. The +inhabitants of this local Fayal were, in the old days, sailors, and +sailors of the roughest sort; with crimps and sharks and women of +several kinds, and an occasional overlord. There were no mills to +speak of, twenty-five years ago, at this end of the town. When the +mills began to come, the inhabitants of Fayal—at least, some of +them—sent for their friends from the islands, and the friends, in +turn, sent for their families; the old sailor <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span>class, the rough men +with gold hoops in their ears, gradually died off and the reputation +of River Street improved. Like the street itself, it is not yet +altogether savory.</p> + +<p>At River Street, Sally began to find herself among the tenements, for +Fayal had lain in the other direction and the old River Street had +faded out, right here, into the remains of a country road which ended +at the beach, not half a mile beyond. There was no country road now, +and the less said about this particular part of the beach the better.</p> + +<p>Sally paused for an instant and looked about her. From this point on, +River Street was a continuous row of tenements, very neat and tidy +tenements, no doubt, at a distance. There was no gleam in that same +distance which betokened the Cove, only the neat and tidy tenements, +horribly neat and tidy. Sally felt a sinking of the heart or somewhere +about that region, although I believe it is not the heart that sinks.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear!" she exclaimed, under her breath. "I had forgotten that it +was so forlorn. I will hurry through it. I wish I could shut my eyes, +as Patty does, but I suppose I shall need to see."</p> + +<p>So she hurried along, past the rows of tenements, past the few women +that she met and past the small children playing in the street. The +women paid no attention to her, being intent upon their own business +and having enough of it to keep them well occupied. She passed a mill, +with its throbbing of looms and its clattering and clicking of +spindles. The long rows of windows were just beginning to be lighted +as she passed. She went on, past more tenements, less closely set, and +past another mill. The windows of this second mill were already +lighted, and the same throbbing and clattering came faintly to her +ears. In front of this mill was a broad street, almost a square, and +beyond the street an open lot,—I had almost said a field, but it +lacked one essential to being a field,—evidently used by the +population, old and young, as a playground. This lot was surrounded by +the remains of an old stone wall, a relic of the better days, when <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span>it +had been a field. Now, there was no vestige of vegetation; no living +thing. A pig would have died of starvation in that lot. Both street +and lot were covered with frozen mud and dirty snow, and a film of +repulsive dirt, that would not wash off, coated the old stones of the +wall. The whole place filled Sally with disgust. If these mills had to +be somewhere, why must they put them here? Why must they? Weren't +there other places, without robbing—</p> + +<p>Sally broke off. She had been almost talking aloud to herself in +fierce rebellion. Mills! Mills! Nothing but mills! They had taken up +every foot of the shore in Whitby except what was occupied by the +wharves. What were the people thinking of, that they suffered it? They +had seen foot after foot, mile after mile, of shore given to the +mills, and not a single feeble voice had been raised to prevent. They +had seen the mills stretch forth surreptitious, grasping hands and +take unto themselves pieces of their beautiful old shore road, a +quarter of a mile at a time. That road had been unequaled for beauty, +thirty years before. Sally had heard Patty speak of it often, mourning +its loss. She, herself, had seen great stretches of that shore taken +by the mills within the past ten years, and she had not known enough +to speak or even to care. The people were mill-mad—or sleeping. +Well—and Sally sighed—a haughty spirit before destruction; just +before it, she hoped. A thousand times rather the few hardened +sailor-men in their place than that horde everywhere.</p> + +<p>It is to be feared that Sally was getting excited; and it is to be +feared that she was not truly democratic. Well, she was not and she +never pretended to be. What of it? She never pretended to be what she +was not. And as she thought these thoughts, she came out from behind +the third mill and gave a little gasp of delight. There lay +Fisherman's Cove, its frozen surface saffron and blue and crimson; and +the clouds above golden and saffron and crimson, with lavender and +purple in the shadows. The sun had just gone down behind another mill +on the opposite shore. Sally stumbled <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span>on—she didn't dare take her +eyes off that—but she stumbled on, as fast as she could, past the few +scattered tenements which lay between her and the open road, and she +sat down on a great stone that was part of the old sea-wall. For at +this point the road ran close to the waters of the Cove, and the +beach, with its load of broken ice, was at her feet. And she sighed +again and sat there, watching, and a great peace fell upon her spirit +and she was content.</p> + +<p>Sally gazed, first at the sky and then at the ice of the Cove; and the +golden lights upon the clouds changed to saffron and the saffron to +crimson and the purple deepened. In the ice, the green which had +lingered in places changed to blue and the blue to indigo and the +saffron and crimson darkened and were gone. Ah! This was worth while. +Was anything else worth while? What did she care, sitting there, for +schools or mills or anything, indeed, but sitting there and gazing? +She half turned and looked out into the bay where sky and water meet. +She could not tell which was water and which was sky, for both had +become a dull slate-blue. She looked again at the Cove. The color had +gone, but there was a faint silvery light from a young moon which hung +above the mill on the opposite shore. And from the windows of the mill +shone other lights. These mills were rather picturesque at night and +at a distance; they were rather pretty—of a kind. Sally did not care +for that kind. The greater the distance, the more picturesque they +were. Sally laughed to herself at the thought. Her laugh was gay +enough and it would have done her mother's heart good to hear it. She +was content; so content that she took no heed of the time, but she sat +there until the young moon had sunk, in its turn, almost to the mill, +and she roused herself and found that she was cold, which was not +strange. And it was too late for a girl to be going past the mills; +which was not strange either. If she was going, she had better be +about it. So she got up from the great stone, took a last long look at +the fast-darkening sky, shivered and started back, at a good pace, +along the road.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span>She passed the last mill and, as she came to the corner of the fence, +she heard the roar of many feet coming out. They burst through the +doorway and she heard them pattering on the frozen mud behind her. But +it was dark and she was well ahead.</p> + +<p>At the second mill, the one of the broad square and the open lot, she +saw the crowd of mill-hands pouring out of the gate as she approached. +The crowd swelled and overflowed the sidewalk and then the street and +poured over the wall into the lot, slowly, like some huge stream of +molasses. As Sally continued on her way, she met this human stream +coming toward her; but it divided before her and closed behind her, +letting her through slowly. They are a peaceable, law-abiding set, for +the most part, but the mill lays its heavy hand upon them. The older +ones among them went stolidly to their kennels; but a few of the +mill-girls looked after Sally and made quite audible remarks about her +and giggled and laughed and nudged the men. And the men—the young +men—looked back at her and thought—but I don't know what they +thought. I only know that two of them, of mixed race, turned and +followed on after her.</p> + +<p>Sally was not aware that she was being followed, but many of the +mill-girls were, and the giggling and the laughter grew, until Sally +turned to see the cause. Having seen, she did not change her pace, but +pursued her way steadily without again looking back or seeming to know +of her two followers. The crowd ahead, going north, and the crowd +behind her, going south, were well separated by this time, and there +was a wide space between them. In this space were only Sally and the +two men, now close behind her, and a few stragglers. In this way they +went on for some distance, while the crowd ahead gradually melted away +into the tenements on either side; and they were within a few blocks +of the corner where Sally would turn off of River Street. The street +was not well lighted and it was deserted.</p> + +<p>The men came up, one on either side of Sally, and one of them said +something to her, too vile to be recorded. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span>Sally kept her eyes +straight ahead and she thought rapidly. She was not exactly +frightened, but she was thinking what she had better do. It would do +little good to scream. The outcome of such a course was doubtful and, +besides, Sally was not the kind of a girl who screams easily or at +all. She meditated fighting. She could have put up a good fight; but +there were two of the men and they would have been pleased with a +fight, two men against one girl. What else was there for her to do? +She could run, and she could run well; so well that there was an even +chance, perhaps, that she could run faster and last longer than those +mill-trained men. Eight or ten years of the mill do not help a man's +lungs much or his morals. The dust, you know,—it seems to get into +their morals as well as into their lungs. If only she didn't have +skirts to bother her; but her skirt was neither tight nor very long.</p> + +<p>The man repeated his vile speech; and Sally darted away, gathering her +skirts as she ran.</p> + +<p>The men had been taken by surprise, but they put out after her as fast +as they could, laughing. This was sport; and although laughter is not +recommended for runners, they managed to gain a little at first. After +that first burst, they ceased to gain, but they held their own, and +the chase sped merrily along River Street, a scant five yards +separating the hunters from their quarry. Sally reached her corner and +turned off of River Street, passing under the light of a street lamp +as she made the turn. Coming down that street was a man. Sally did not +see very well, for he was not in the full light and, besides, her eyes +were full of tears because of her running. But the man gave a start +and an exclamation and he began to run and he ran into those men like +a locomotive, and he swung at one of them and hit him and knocked him +into the middle of the street, so that he landed on the back of his +neck in the roadway and lay limp and still. The other would have run +away, but the man caught him around the neck with his left hand and +cast him as far as his fellow, rolling over and over.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span>"Damn you!" he cried low. "No, you don't. Damn you!"</p> + +<p>Doubtless he was forgiven that cry, even as Sally forgave it. She had +stopped and was leaning against a fence. When she saw the men go into +the street, one after the other, she gave a quick chuckle of delight. +She may have been a little hysterical. It would not have been strange.</p> + +<p>The second man who had been so summarily cast into the road was rising +slowly, muttering and half sobbing. The first man continued to lie +limp and still, and the man who had cast him there advanced slowly +toward him; upon which that other ceased beating the dust from his +clothes and edged away, muttering more loudly threats and +vituperations. The man continued to advance, but he raised his head +into the full light from the street lamp and he laughed shortly.</p> + +<p>"You'd better be off," he said. "Get out, and hurry about it."</p> + +<p>Sally saw his face well enough in the dim light and she knew the +voice. She had not really needed to recognize either, for she knew +well enough, in her heart, who it was that had come to her aid in the +nick of time. She chuckled again with delight, then drew a shivering +breath and gave a sob. There was no doubt about it, Sally was +hysterical. She knew that she was and she stifled the sob in her +throat. She despised hysterics. And she laughed a little because she +couldn't help it, and she went to him.</p> + +<p>He was kneeling in the road and he had the man's head upon one knee +and was feeling him gently. He raised his head as she came near.</p> + +<p>"I can't tell whether I have hurt him or not. It's awkward. We can't +leave him lying here in the street, although he deserves no better +treatment. I wish I had a horse here. You don't happen to know of one, +do you, Sally?"</p> + +<p>"N—no," she answered slowly, "not near here. I suppose I could get +Sawny, if you would wait."</p> + +<p>Fox laughed. "I don't want to ask Everett for Sawny."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span>"Neither do I." The sound of a horse's hoofs came to them faintly. +"There's one now. I'll run to the corner and stop him." And, before +Fox could make any reply, she was off, running.</p> + +<p>The sound of the horse's hoofs stopped and presently came on, down the +street.</p> + +<p>"Hello!" cried a voice. "Is that Doctor Sanderson? What can I do?"</p> + +<p>"It's Eugene Spencer, Fox," remarked Sally, getting out. "Wasn't that +luck?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Jane, "wasn't it? Shall I take Sally home?"</p> + +<p>Fox and Sally both preferred that he should take the man.</p> + +<p>"I hate to ask you to take him out to my hospital," said Fox +apologetically, "but I don't know of anything better. I'll telephone +them before you can get there, and I'll be out within an hour. I don't +think he's seriously hurt."</p> + +<p>So they bundled the man in, and Jane drove off, rather crestfallen. +For his part, he thought that he ought to take Sally home first, at +least. The man still lurking in the shadows hurled vile epithets and +obscenities and ran after Jane.</p> + +<p>Fox laughed a little, nervously. "Hope he has a pleasant chase. He'll +hardly catch Spencer." Eugene was already at the corner. "My first +patient, Sally, although the Retreat is not open yet. This man is not +the kind of patient I shall hope to have, but it seemed better to send +him there and avoid publicity. We can take good care of him. Hello!"</p> + +<p>There was some kind of an uproar just around the corner. It lasted +only a moment and then Eugene came driving back, alone.</p> + +<p>"That man of yours," he said, pulling up short, "recovered very +suddenly, rolled out, and the pair of them ran down the street like +scared rabbits. I didn't chase them, for I thought that you would +probably be glad enough to get rid of him."</p> + +<p>"I am," Fox replied, with evident relief. "He can't be much hurt. I'm +much obliged to you, Spencer."</p> + +<p>"Shan't I take Sally home? Or there's room for both of you, if you +don't mind a little crowding."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span>"We will walk home, thank you, Jane," said Sally, with the finality he +had come to expect. "I haven't seen Fox for a long time and I have a +lot to say to him."</p> + +<p>So Eugene, muttering something under his breath, made a very short +turn, in which process he very nearly tipped over, and gave his horse +a cut with the whip. The animal, which was not expecting this and did +not deserve it, gave a bound and they were gone.</p> + +<p>Sally chuckled. "Display of temper on Mr. Spencer's part," Fox +observed, "wholly uncalled for. Bad for the horse, too. I judge that +he is not the equal of Everett as a horse trainer."</p> + +<p>Sally's chuckling broke out afresh. "No, he's not, I'm afraid. Those +displays of temper are not unusual. Now, Fox, come along."</p> + +<p>Fox was a little surprised—just a little—to feel Sally's hand within +his arm, but he did know better than to show his surprise, if there +were some things that he didn't know. If he had only known, +he—well—but Sally was speaking to him.</p> + +<p>"Now, Fox," she was saying, "how in the world did you happen to turn +up just at that moment? You were in the nick of time."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know about that. You would probably have left them. They +were about all in, both of them. But I didn't happen to turn up. It +wasn't any accident. I was looking for you."</p> + +<p>Unconsciously, Sally tightened her hold upon his arm. "Oh," she +murmured, "that was nice!"</p> + +<p>"I only got here this afternoon," Fox continued, paying no obvious +attention to her murmured remark, "and I went right to Mrs. Stump's. I +found your mother a little upset and rather anxious, but I didn't +succeed in finding out what it was about." He did not say—perhaps he +did not know—how upset Mrs. Ladue had been. She had been torn by +conflicting emotions, and she showed evidences of it. But there had +been never a moment's hesitation about the course she <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span>would pursue. +Only she had raised troubled, tearful eyes to Fox, and had said—but +what Mrs. Ladue had said forms no part of this chronicle. Whatever she +said, she did not tell him clearly of the rumors connecting Everett's +name with Sally's. He would hear those rumors soon enough, if there +was anything in them; if there was not, for that matter.</p> + +<p>Sally had been thinking. "I am afraid," she said softly, "that it was +about me. I hoped she was all over it when I left."</p> + +<p>Fox turned his head and looked at her, but he did not reply to her +remark directly. "She said that you had gone for a walk, but she +didn't know where. I waited a long time, thinking you might come in. +Your mother and I had a long talk."</p> + +<p>Sally would have given a good deal to know what the long talk was +about. "It—it isn't true, Fox," she began slowly.</p> + +<p>"What! It is true, too. We talked for an hour and forty minutes, while +I was waiting. I know."</p> + +<p>Sally laughed nervously. "I—I meant that anything you may hear about +me isn't true."</p> + +<p>"Clear as mud, Sally. Well, I'll remember. Anything that I hear about +you isn't true. But I'm not likely to hear the voice of rumor +especially if it's about you."</p> + +<p>Sally made no reply to this, and Fox went on. "When it began to grow +dark, I made some inquiries, and I found a certain person who had seen +you go out; and you had met a man at the next corner—Who was the man, +Sally?"</p> + +<p>"Everett," Sally replied briefly; and she started to say more, but +thought better of it—or worse, as you like—and shut her lips tight +together.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, she said she thought it was Everett. I thought that, +perhaps, she was mistaken."</p> + +<p>"No," said Sally, "she was not mistaken."</p> + +<p>"Hum!" said Fox, smiling to himself; but Sally could not see that. +"And this exceedingly well-informed person said <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span>that you and Everett +evidently had a spat on the street corner, and that he went off, mad."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Sally, nodding. She might have known that Fox couldn't see +the nod.</p> + +<p>"Too bad!" said Fox. "Exemplary young man—especially one who has seen +the world and who has as perfect manners as Everett wishes it to be +thought that he has—shouldn't go off mad. Very young. It reminds one +of your young friend, Spencer. We should expect him to go off mad, +shouldn't we, Sally?"</p> + +<p>Sally chuckled again. "We should."</p> + +<p>"Well," Fox resumed, "finding that you had been last seen hiking down +the street without male escort, Everett having got mad and declined to +play and gone home,—it is to be hoped that he had gone home,—I put +out after you, lippety-clippety. All the male inhabitants of Whitby +seem to think that is their chief end in life."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Fox," said Sally faintly, "they don't."</p> + +<p>"They do," Fox insisted; "all except Dick." He laughed. "Speaking of +Dick reminds me that I have something to tell you if you don't let me +forget it. Well, loping along that way, I came to the historic +corner—of what street?"</p> + +<p>"River Street. How did you happen to come that way?"</p> + +<p>"Followed my nose. You had gone along this street. So did I. You came +to the corner. So did I, and I nearly ran into you."</p> + +<p>She shivered a little. Fox felt it, and held his arm closer to him.</p> + +<p>"Are you cold, Sally?"</p> + +<p>"No." She spoke low. "But I'm glad you came, Fox. I'm very glad."</p> + +<p>"So am I, for several reasons not to be catalogued at present." They +had almost reached Mrs. Stump's. "Oh, I was going to tell you +something in connection with Dick. Henrietta's engaged. She wanted me +to tell you. So, it is to be presumed, is Dick."</p> + +<p>"I'm very glad, but I'm not surprised. I don't suppose Henrietta +expected me to be."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span>"She didn't mention it, so you don't have to be."</p> + +<p>"I'll write to her to-night. So that accounts for Dick's mysterious +disappearances."</p> + +<p>"He's been visiting us at your old place, Sally. He was so much +interested in seeing your favorite trees and in hearing about you, +that Henrietta felt rather jealous."</p> + +<p>Sally laughed derisively. They were standing at the foot of Mrs. +Stump's fine granite steps. Fox was silent for a moment, looking at +Sally.</p> + +<p>"I know," he said at last thoughtfully, "I know where there are some +gynesaurus trees near Whitby."</p> + +<p>Sally's face lighted up. "Could a person climb them, Fox?"</p> + +<p>"A person about twenty-two years old?" asked Fox. "I should think she +might if she is able."</p> + +<p>"She is able," she returned, nodding emphatically. "Will you tell me +where they are?"</p> + +<p>"Some day," Fox answered, not looking at her, "I will show them to +you."</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_XIII3" id="CHAPTER_XIII3"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER XIII<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>Sally was in rather better spirits for some time after that walk to +Fisherman's Cove, although there is some doubt whether the improvement +was due to her brief sight of the Cove under a winter sun and moon or +to realization of the fact that a great number of people were worse +off than she or to her break with Everett or to seeing Fox again. But +her break with Everett was of only a temporary nature, a fact which he +made very evident to her, at least, and, incidentally, to Miss Miller +and to Miss Lambkin and to Mrs. Upjohn and to many others; and, as for +seeing Fox, she had been enjoying that privilege for twelve years, +from time to time. To be sure, it had occasionally been a long while +from time to time, but that had not seemed to trouble Sally. So, +altogether, we are forced to abandon the inquiry as fruitless. Sally, +if we had asked her, would have smiled and would have answered quite +truly that she didn't know and she didn't care. It was the fact which +was most important; the fact was, indeed, of the only importance, +except to persons like Miss Letty Lambkin, who are never satisfied +with the simple facts of life, but must dig down until they find +certain diseased roots, which they fondly believe, without further +tracing, to be the roots of those facts, but which, more often than +not, do not belong to them at all, but to some other tree.</p> + +<p>Fox's hospital had had an opening, to which the inhabitants of Whitby +were invited. Whitby, in a way, was as exclusive as Philadelphia, and +Fox's cards of invitation were addressed only to those fortunate +persons living in a certain restricted area. That area was bounded, on +the east, by the Cow Path, although a few cards found their way down +the hill as far as Mrs. Stump's and Miss Miller's. Consequently, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span>Patty went and so did Mrs. Ladue and Sally. It might have been a +reception, for they found there nearly the whole of the élite of +Whitby and no one else, and the whole of the hospital staff were +engaged in showing small parties of the aforesaid élite over the +hospital and the farm connected with it. The hospital staff had no +other engagements, there being no patients yet. Patty was delighted +with it—and with the staff—and expressed her intention of coming out +to board as soon as the spring opened. And Fox, to whom this speech +was addressed—it was delivered in rather a coquettish manner, all +Miss Patty's own—smiled and bowed and made no reply. Perhaps no reply +was expected. Fox had heard many such remarks. He would have his +patients from among the makers of them.</p> + +<p>As soon as he could, Fox took Mrs. Ladue and Sally out over the farm. +Patty was deep in conversation with Doctor Beatty. So he missed her, +to his great regret, he said. But, never mind. She'll have a chance to +see it. And thereupon he smiled enigmatically, and proceeded to show +them what had been done. He was proud of it. When he had shown them +all of it, he waved his hand toward the old cream-colored square +house.</p> + +<p>"My residence," he said. "I am afraid that it will have to remain shut +up as it is, for the present. Henrietta's change of plan—or, I +shouldn't say that, perhaps—her engagement knocks my scheme of things +in the head. She is to be married in June, you know."</p> + +<p>"But, Fox," Mrs. Ladue exclaimed, "surely, you don't mean that you +won't open the house at all!" She was sorry for him. Why did he have +to miss the satisfaction of living in his own house? Such a house, +too!</p> + +<p>He nodded. "I don't see any prospect of it," he answered, rather +gloomily for him; "at least," he added, with a short laugh, "until I +am married. There is really no reason for it, you know. There is +likely to be room enough at this end of the establishment for some +time."</p> + +<p>It was Margaret Savage he referred to, Sally supposed. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span>At least, +Henrietta, she remembered, had said—had intimated it. Suddenly, she +hated the old house.</p> + +<p>"It's a shame," Mrs. Ladue said softly. "It's a perfect shame, Fox. +If—if you want to live in it, there's no reason—"</p> + +<p>Fox shook his head. "It wouldn't be best or wise, dear Mrs. Ladue," he +said gently. "I can wait."</p> + +<p>"Aren't you going to show it to us?" asked Mrs. Ladue then, with +heightened color. "We should like to see the inside, shouldn't we, +Sally?"</p> + +<p>But Sally did not have a chance to reply. "Not to-day," said Fox. +"Sometime, soon, I hope, but not to-day."</p> + +<p>He said no more and Mrs. Ladue said nothing and Sally said nothing; +and they went in again, by unanimous consent, and presently Mrs. Ladue +and Sally and Patty drove away, although so early a departure was much +against Patty's inclination. They would not have succeeded in getting +her to go at all but that Fox took Doctor Beatty off to show him +something, and Doctor Beatty thanked him, although he did not make it +clear whether it was for wanting to show him the something or for +taking him away. But Meriwether Beatty had shown a capacity for +leaving Patty when he felt like it, so that I am forced to conclude +that that had nothing to do with his thanks. When they got back to +Mrs. Stump's they found a letter from Charlie waiting for them on the +hall table. I may add that Patty found a letter from Charlie, also, +but it was not like the one to his mother and Sally. It differed from +theirs in several important particulars.</p> + +<p>Charlie wrote a letter home every week, with unfailing regularity. It +was a perfunctory letter, filled with the unimportant happenings at +college. It never gave any information about himself except on those +rare occasions when he had something favorable to report, and it did +not need to be anything exceptionally favorable either.</p> + +<p>He wrote to Patty irregularly, sometimes more often sometimes less, +depending upon his needs. Once, when he <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span>had been having an unusually +good run of luck, he let nearly three weeks elapse between letters, +and then his next letter was almost seven pages long and contained no +reference to money. Patty had been awaiting a letter nervously and +opened this one with fear and trembling. The combination, after such +an interval, transported Patty with delight, and she ran over at once +to show the letter to Mrs. Ladue. It was the only one that she did +show to Mrs. Ladue, for all the others either were evidently dictated +by a necessity more or less dire, or they referred to previous "loans" +of which Mrs. Ladue and Sally knew nothing. Patty always managed to +supply his needs, although sometimes with extreme difficulty and with +a great casting up of accounts, in which process many perfectly good +pencils were consumed in a manner for which they were not intended. If +the makers of pencils had designed them for such use, they would have +made them with lolly-pops or chewing-gum on one end.</p> + +<p>Charlie's letters to Patty were triumphs of art, and would have made +his scholastic fortune if they could have been presented as daily +themes. If they were not always free from error, they were always +readable and the matter was treated in a way which unfailingly would +have been of interest to any one but Patty, and they showed evidence +of a lively and well-nourished imagination which was not allowed to +become atrophied. "William Henry's Letters to his Grandmother," +although of a somewhat different nature, were not a patch upon them.</p> + +<p>But Patty was too much concerned about the matter treated in these +letters to be interested in their literary value; and, besides, she +was not in a position to know the extent of the exercise to which +Charlie's imagination was subjected in the course of composition. Her +own imagination was not without exercise, for she had to finance his +requests.</p> + +<p>Patty's financing, that winter, would have done credit to a promoter. +She had already succeeded in getting herself involved deeply with the +builder who was repairing her house and with Dick, although Dick was +as yet in blissful <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span>ignorance of the fact. The builder had been paid +but very little since Christmas; but he, being an elderly man who had +known her father well, and who, accordingly, trusted any member of the +family implicitly, had said nothing yet. Patty wondered, with some +fear and trembling, how much longer he would go on without saying +anything. And then she put the whole matter aside. She could not see +her way out yet.</p> + +<p>It was not that she considered the repairs upon her house, which +amounted almost to rebuilding, as properly any business of Dick's. +But, unaccountably and inscrutably to Patty, if not to her friends and +acquaintances, her father had given Richard Torrington great +discretion, under his will. The Richard aforesaid was even empowered +to keep the management of all Patty's property and to give her no more +than a stated allowance, if he saw good reason to do so. Mr. Hazen had +made him virtually a trustee, perhaps actually; but, so far, he seemed +to regard himself as no more than the channel through which Patty's +money must necessarily flow and he honored all her requests, asking +only that she tell him the general purpose to which the money was to +be applied.</p> + +<p>In consequence of this situation, there had been certain checks signed +by Richard Torrington, Executor, designed to be applied to payments +upon the house. Several of these checks had been hypothecated by Patty +and diverted to other uses. Possibly Charlie Ladue could have given +some information as to those uses. Certainly Patty could not. She knew +nothing at all of the ultimate purposes to which her money was put. +For that matter, Charlie's knowledge went only one step farther. He +was nothing but a channel through which Patty's money necessarily +flowed. A good, generous sewer-pipe would have served as well, for all +the good that the money did him; and the process was rapidly +undermining Patty's morals.</p> + +<p>It was a great pity that Patty had chosen this method of supply. As +long as she was bound to keep Charlie supplied with whatever he asked +for, or as nearly as she could come to that, it would have been much +better to ask Dick to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span>double her allowance for her personal use. He +might have wondered at such a request, but he would have done it +without question, and thereby Patty's self-respect would have been +saved without producing any effect upon Charlie's in either way. One +wonders whether Charlie had any shreds of self-respect left, anyway.</p> + +<p>So it is difficult to say whether Patty looked forward with greater +joy than dread to Charlie's coming home for the Easter recess. For +some weeks he had kept her stirred up by his requests, but these +requests were for relatively small sums, ten dollars or twenty-five, +and once he asked for fifty. But for ten days before his vacation, he +had asked her for nothing, and her fears were forgotten.</p> + +<p>When, at last, the Easter recess began, Charlie appeared promptly on +the afternoon when he should have appeared and he looked neither +forlorn nor seedy. To a careful eye, a loving eye, watching him for +some days, he might have seemed to be possessed of an anxiety which he +took pains to conceal; but it was an elusive thing and, if he chose to +deny its existence, how was one to prove it?</p> + +<p>Sally thought that she detected something, she could not tell just +what, and she asked her mother, casually, whether she had noticed +anything.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ladue looked up quickly. "I can't tell, Sally," she replied. "I +thought I did, and I spoke to Charlie about it, but he assured me that +there was nothing wrong and that it must be all my imagination. I +couldn't press the question. To tell the truth, I was afraid to. He +seems to have no disposition to confide in me and to have a low +opinion of my judgment, but I shouldn't like to have him say so. +If—if you could speak to him—"</p> + +<p>"Very well," said Sally, sighing wearily, "I will, although I have no +hope of accomplishing anything by it—except arousing his suspicion," +she added with a short laugh, "if there is anything which worries him +and which he is unwilling to tell. We are not in Charlie's +confidence."</p> + +<p>"We have not been—<i>I</i> have not been in his confidence <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span>for eleven +years—since I was taken sick." Mrs. Ladue sighed in her turn. "He +seems like a stranger. I haven't been able to get near him. But he +seems to be rather afraid of your judgment, Sally."</p> + +<p>"That's not a great help," Sally remarked with another short laugh, +"in getting near him, is it? But I'll try."</p> + +<p>Accordingly Sally asked him whether—she was careful to put the +question in as natural a form as possible and she tried to make it +seem casual, too—she asked him whether there was anything he would +like to have them do for him. It is not likely that she succeeded +thoroughly in either of these attempts, for Charlie only looked +startled and answered that he didn't think there was anything. And he +added that he was a little anxious about his reports. If they were not +as good as they might be, he hoped that mother would not be too much +disappointed. And Sally had shrugged a little and smiled a little and +shown a little of the contempt which she always felt for lying. She +did not know that Charlie was lying, but she felt that he was, and she +could not have helped that little smile of contempt to save her life. +But Charlie did not recognize her smile as one of contempt. He went +off to see Patty, smiling and patting himself on the back for having +thrown Sally off the scent so cleverly.</p> + +<p>It is not to be supposed that either Mrs. Ladue or Sally was so +lacking in natural affection that she let Charlie go on the way he was +going without a struggle—without several struggles. Not that they +knew just the way he was going, but they knew very well that they had +lost all their control over him; the control which is due to a mutual +love. It was Charlie who had shown a lack of natural affection. His +mother had struggled in vain against that lack and against the effect +of Patty's indulgence. As for Sally, if the love and regard of ten or +twelve years before, a love very like a mother's, had been changed +insensibly into the tolerant contempt of the strong for the weak—not +always perfectly tolerant, I am afraid—Charlie had only himself to +blame. But, as for blaming himself—pfooh! Much he cared!</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_XIV3" id="CHAPTER_XIV3"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER XIV<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>Charlie stood by the mantel in Patty's room, in such an attitude as he +imagined that Everett might take, under similar circumstances, and he +was trying to look troubled. It was an imitation mantel by which he +stood, being no more than a marble slab set upon iron brackets; for +the real mantel, of wood, which had surrounded a real fireplace of +generous proportions, had been removed when the fireplace had been +bricked up and a register inserted. That register, of the regulation +black, now stared at Miss Patty as she sat facing Charlie, and it +emitted a thin column of faintly warm air. Altogether, it was a poor +substitute for a fire and a gloomy thing to contemplate. Charlie's +attitude, too, as has been intimated, was but an imitation. His +trouble was no imitation, though, and his attempt to look troubled +succeeded beyond his fondest hopes.</p> + +<p>Patty had been looking at him for some time, growing more anxious +every minute. Charlie had said nothing at all, but had kept his eyes +fixed upon the distance; upon such distance as he could get through +Patty's window. That was not so very much, the distance being limited +by the house across the street, perhaps sixty feet away. At intervals +he sighed heavily, the time between sighs apparently—to Patty, at +least, his only hearer—apparently occupied by equally heavy thinking.</p> + +<p>At last Patty could stand it no longer. "What is it, Charlie, dear?" +she asked in a voice which trembled a little. "What is the matter, +dear boy?"</p> + +<p>Charlie forced a smile, his frown disappeared for an instant, and he +brought his gaze back, with a great effort, a superhuman effort, to +things near at hand: eventually to Patty herself.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span>"Oh, nothing," he said gently. "Nothing at all." And he resumed his +gazing at the front of that house, sixty feet away, and his frowning +and his sighing and his heavy thinking.</p> + +<p>Patty was silent for some minutes. "Won't you tell me?" she asked +then. "I am sure there must be something which troubles you. You know +you can count on my sympathy."</p> + +<p>Charlie went through the same process as before. It took time. "What +did you say?" he said absently, when his look had, at last, come down +to Patty. "Sympathy? I'm afraid that won't do me much good." He +smiled; a smile that was meant to be pitiful. "But, no. There's +nothing the matter. Nothing at all, I assure you. It's all my own +fault anyway; my misfortune, rather," he added, so low that Patty +barely heard, and she thought that the words were not meant for her +ears. That was exactly in accordance with Charlie's intention.</p> + +<p>"Charlie!" she cried. "Charlie! You've got to tell me. I heard those +last words which you didn't mean me to hear. Now, you've got to tell +me." Her voice trembled more than ever.</p> + +<p>Charlie could not seem to resist this plea. He looked at her +pityingly, and he drew a long breath.</p> + +<p>"Well, Pat," he said—Pat was his pet name for her, used only under +stress—"well, Pat, if you must have it, then here goes. I'm only out, +for this vacation, on bail. I've got to—"</p> + +<p>"Wh-what?" asked Patty faintly. Her heart was playing mad pranks and +she put up her hand to steady it. At least, that seemed to be her +idea. "What was that you said, Charlie? Oh, Charlie, dear!"</p> + +<p>"Bail" and "jail" sound very much alike. They conveyed about the same +idea to poor Patty. Under certain circumstances, they convey about the +same idea to the one most intimately concerned.</p> + +<p>Charlie did not appear to be affected. "I've got to show up day after +to-morrow or forfeit my bail," he continued <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span>unfeelingly. "Well," he +said doggedly, "I will. I may have to go to jail, but what of it?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Charlie, dear!" Patty cried, more faintly than before. "Oh, +Charlie, dear! Whatever have you done that you should talk of going +to—to—Charlie, I feel faint. My salts, dear," she said hurriedly. +"They are on the top of my bureau, in that green bottle."</p> + +<p>"Charlie dear" obediently got the little green bottle, stifling a +smile which would curl the corners of his mouth, in spite of himself, +while his back was turned to Patty. When he came back to her he looked +properly concerned; but Patty's eyes were closed. He removed the +stopper and held the bottle close under her nose, to revive her, which +happy event occurred with a suddenness that was a surprise to Patty, +at least. She gasped and gave a little choking cry.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Charlie! Not so cl-close."</p> + +<p>"All right now, Pat?" he asked with a cheerfulness that was evidently +assumed. He removed the bottle and put in the stopper.</p> + +<p>"I—I think so," she replied, still faintly. "Now—go—on, Charlie. +Tell me. I think I can bear it. I'll try to."</p> + +<p>"Why," said Charlie, "there's nothing to tell. I got bail so that I +could come home for my Easter vacation. Time's up day after to-morrow, +and I've got to show up or forfeit my bail."</p> + +<p>"Who is the—the bailer?" Patty inquired as if it were her last +breath.</p> + +<p>"One of the other men," Charlie returned glibly. "He isn't really rich +either, so he couldn't very well afford to have me jump it."</p> + +<p>"Jump it?" Patty repeated. She was getting pretty well dazed.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Charlie impatiently. "Haven't you ever heard that +expression? It's the legal expression for failing to show up and +forfeiting your bail. If I should jump it, that other man would have +to pay the amount of my bail."</p> + +<p>"Ho-how much is it?" Patty asked in a trembling voice.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span>Charlie made a rapid mental calculation. "One thousand dollars," he +said.</p> + +<p>"One thousand dollars!" repeated poor Patty slowly. "One thou—but, +Charlie," for a gleam of light had come to her,—"but, Charlie, what +is it for? What ha-have you done? Oh, it is too terrible!"</p> + +<p>"I haven't done much of anything, really," Charlie protested; "nothing +worth mentioning if we hadn't had an accident."</p> + +<p>"An accident!" Patty murmured.</p> + +<p>"Yes, an accident. You see there were four of us that thought it would +be fun—and no harm, Pat, really, if things hadn't gone wrong—to take +a little run in a motor—an automobile. Fostrow has a car of his own +at home, and he was to drive. In fact, he did." Charlie chuckled, as +though at the recollection. "He did until he had got us arrested twice +for speeding. But that was a small matter, only twenty-five dollars a +time. Fostrow paid that himself. He said it was worth double the money +to see those country-men get out of the way. And we ran over a dog. It +turned out to be a very valuable dog. All that is in the day's work, +though. We—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Charlie," Patty interrupted, "I <i>knew</i> you would get into trouble +if you went in those <i>horrible</i> machines, at any rate, without a +<i>competent</i> and <i>reliable</i> driver. I have always thought that Edward +would be the driver I should choose; so steady and—"</p> + +<p>"Edward!" Charlie exclaimed. He had been about to add something +further, in the way of comment, but he thought better of it. "No +doubt, Edward would be very steady, but he is too old, to my way of +thinking. Well, we had gone about fifty miles and began to think it +was time to go back. So we filled up our gasoline tank, got something +to eat, and started back. It was dark by that time. We were rather +hurrying over the country roads, when something went wrong with the +steering-gear and the next thing I knew I was lying on the other side +of a stone wall—"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span>"O-oh!" shuddered Patty.</p> + +<p>"—And the machine was completely smashed—crumpled up—with a +telephone pole on top of it. Then the gasoline caught fire and the +whole thing burned up, pole and all. The other men were more or less +hurt, but I hadn't a scratch, only some bruises. Fostrow's in a +hospital out there, now, with two ribs broken. The owner of the +machine got after us. It was a new machine and a beauty; cost five +thousand, he said. So that explains the bail."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Charlie!" breathed Patty. "What a mercy you escaped!"</p> + +<p>Charlie smiled complacently. He had really done pretty well. That +story, he thought, would be a credit to anybody.</p> + +<p>"But, Charlie," Patty continued, after a short silence, "why don't you +tell Sally the whole story. She'd find some way to get you out of it. +She—she is really very good at managing affairs."</p> + +<p>Charlie shivered involuntarily. Sally was very good at managing +affairs. He could see her pitying smile as she listened in silence to +his string of plausible lies and the look from the gray eyes would be +boring straight down into his soul as he talked, and he would be +afraid. And his speech would grow more halting, and he would finish in +some confusion and Sally would turn away with a quiet "Humph!" or she +would say nothing at all, which would be almost worse. And she would +not tell him what she was going to do, but she would go and do it, and +it—whatever it was—would be most effective, and that was exactly +what Charlie did not want. He shivered again as he thought of it. +Sally managed affairs too well; that was the trouble. No, distinctly +no; he did not want Sally to have any hand in this affair. He thought +that he could manage it very well himself. It was going beautifully, +so far.</p> + +<p>"No, Pat," he said gently. "I prefer not to tell Sally. I—to tell the +truth, Sally and mother don't seem very glad to see me. I think they'd +rather I stayed away."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you poor boy!" Patty's eyes shone with pity. "You <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span>dear boy! +<i>I'm</i> glad to see you, anyway, Charlie, dear. You have one friend who +won't desert you."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Pat. I thought I could depend on you."</p> + +<p>"I'll undertake the management of this affair." Patty spoke with +pride. A faint smile began to curl the corners of Charlie's mouth. He +suppressed it. Patty was deep in thought; or she flattered herself +that she was.</p> + +<p>She might as well have undertaken to add a cubit to her stature by +taking thought. She was silent for some minutes, looking more worried +with every minute that passed. At last she looked up.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear!" she said, sighing, "I can't think of anything. It wouldn't +do any good for you to go away, would it?"</p> + +<p>Charlie shook his head and looked very solemn. "No. That would mean +giving up my college course and jumping my bail. I should become a +fugitive from justice." That sounded rather impressive and Charlie +repeated it, as impressively as he could. "A fugitive from justice."</p> + +<p>"Charlie, don't!" cried Patty wildly. "It sounds as if you were a +criminal." Charlie made no reply. "What would you suggest?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," he answered with resignation. "There is nothing to be done +but for me to surrender myself to my bondsmen—" That sounded +impressive, too. "Surrender myself to my bondsmen," he repeated, "and +to the justice of the court."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Charlie!" Patty wailed faintly. "Oh, Charlie, dear, isn't there +some other way?"</p> + +<p>He shook his head again. "No other way that I can see. No other way +that wouldn't call for more money than I can possibly raise. For I +won't ask you for it, Pat. I simply <i>won't</i>."</p> + +<p>Patty was lying back in her chair. She seemed to feel faint again, and +Charlie hurried to her, the little green bottle once more in his hand. +She waved it aside.</p> + +<p>"H-how much," she asked, "must you have, Charlie?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind that, Pat. That's settled. It's much more <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span>than I should +be willing to ask you to lend me, or to accept from you. I'll just +surrender myself. It will soon be over." He spoke as cheerfully as +though he were going to execution.</p> + +<p>Patty looked at him. She thought that she had never seen any one so +brave.</p> + +<p>"Tell me. How much must you have?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose that eight or nine hundred would settle it, since you +insist." He swept it all aside with a wave of his hand. "But dismiss +the matter from your mind. We'll consider it settled."</p> + +<p>"We won't. It isn't settled." Poor Patty was having a last struggle +with her conscience. It was really a hard struggle and it took some +time. At last she drew a long shuddering breath. "Look in my top +bureau drawer, Charlie," she said, raising haggard eyes to his, "in +the front. There's a check there somewhere. It's for seven hundred and +fifty dollars."</p> + +<p>Charlie protested. Nevertheless, he moved with alacrity and rummaged +until he found the check. It was signed by Richard Torrington, +Executor. He presented it to Patty, folded, as he had found it.</p> + +<p>"Is this it, Pat? It is folded, you see, so that it is impossible to +know whether it is the one you wanted or not."</p> + +<p>"And to think that you wouldn't look, Charlie! But I might have known +it. I don't know what Richard would say," she murmured. "And I don't +know what the carpenters will do—the builders. But never mind. It is +my own money, anyway, and I'll do what I like with it. Charlie," she +said louder, "you must take this. Perhaps I can raise fifty dollars +more to-morrow morning. Do I have to write my name on the back?"</p> + +<p>Charlie protested again, but his protests were fainter than they had +been. He must not overdo it.</p> + +<p>Patty had risen from her chair and had gone to her desk. "Perhaps," +she said doubtfully, "it would be better—you would rather have me +cash the check and give you the money." Charlie's protests were +reduced to a mere murmur now. "Yes, that will be better."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[290]</a></span>Charlie looked perplexed. He frowned tremendously and was very solemn. +He, too, seemed to be having a terrible struggle with his conscience. +It is, perhaps, unnecessary to say that he wasn't. Patty watched him +fearfully, the check clasped to her bosom and her eyes pitiful. At +last he heaved a long, shivering sigh, looked up and met her eyes +fixed upon him. There was fear in them and a great love. He had the +grace to flush faintly.</p> + +<p>"Am I to understand, Pat," he asked slowly, "that you insist upon +letting me have this—this money?"</p> + +<p>"You must take it, Charlie. You <i>shall</i> take it," she cried fiercely. +"Please do."</p> + +<p>"We-ell," he replied, "to please you, I will, since you insist. But I +am very unwilling to take it and I wouldn't, from anybody else. I only +do it now on condition that you will regard it as a loan which I will +repay very soon." How? Did Patty ask herself that question?</p> + +<p>"My dear boy!" exclaimed Patty softly. "My dear boy! Think what it is +saving you from! You won't have to go to j—— Oh, I can't say it. But +you won't have to, now, will you, Charlie? Say you won't."</p> + +<p>"No," said he, sighing heavily again, "I guess I won't. But, as far as +I am concerned, that is of very little consequence. It is you that I +am thinking of. Mother and Sally wouldn't care, except as it would +reflect on them, whether I was in jail or not. Of course," he added, +with an apparent wish to be fair, "I may be doing them an injustice, +but I don't think so. But it is different with you. Aside from the +disgrace which I should be bringing down on your head, I think you +would feel it, for my sake."</p> + +<p>"Feel it!" she murmured. "Feel it! Oh, Charlie, dear! I believe I +should die. I know it would kill me."</p> + +<p>Charlie smiled sympathetically.</p> + +<p>Tears stood in Patty's eyes. "You shall have eight hundred dollars +to-morrow morning. I'll get it as soon as the bank is open. And you +come here after it. Come early, Charlie. I want you all to myself for +a little while."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span>"Thank you, Pat. I am very grateful."</p> + +<p>She looked longingly at him; a look which he seemed not to see.</p> + +<p>"Charlie," she said softly.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Pat?"</p> + +<p>She hesitated for a moment. "K-kiss me, Charlie." Her voice was so low +that he scarcely heard her. "Kiss me, won't you, dear?"</p> + +<p>And so he did. That was the least he could do.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_XV3" id="CHAPTER_XV3"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER XV<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>The blow had fallen. It had fallen upon Patty. The builder had +happened to come upon Dick in the bank; and, being rather pressed for +money, he had remarked, half in joke, upon the slowness of the +payments from the Hazen estate. Whereat Dick, very much surprised but +trying not to show it, had asked for particulars which the builder was +very willing to supply; and the matter having been sifted to the +bottom, so far as the builder was concerned, Dick had, then and there, +given him a check for all that was owing him, which was greatly to the +builder's gratification and as it should be.</p> + +<p>If the matter was sifted to the bottom, so far as the builder was +concerned, it was very far from that satisfactory condition so far as +Patty was concerned. Dick went to see Patty and asked her, as +delicately and gently as was at all consistent with getting the +information that he wanted, what had become of the checks which he had +sent her, from time to time? Where had the money gone which was +intended for the builder? But Patty stood by her guns and would not +tell. They might suspect, but they should not know—from her. She +insisted that it was her money, that her father had meant it for her, +and she would use it as she pleased without being accountable to +anybody.</p> + +<p>Dick, patient, pleasant, but insistent, was unable to get anything +more out of her, try as he would, and he had been forced to go away +again, baffled and no wiser than he was when he came, except that it +was evident that the money had been applied to some purpose which +Patty wished to conceal. He was satisfied that it had not been applied +to her personal use. Indeed, it was incredible that she could have +used so much without having anything to show for it, unless she had +fallen into the hands of one of those sharpers who <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span>supply trusting +women with the stocks and bonds of mythological mines guaranteed to +produce a return of three hundred per cent a year. Even in that case, +Miss Patty might have shown him the beautiful examples of the +engraver's art with which the aforesaid corporations reward their +victims.</p> + +<p>No, such a condition was not probable. It was much more likely that +Charlie Ladue had got it. And because he was morally certain of the +use to which the money had been put—as far as Patty was concerned—he +was careful not to say anything of his suspicions to anybody. He did +not wish them to get to Sally's ears; not until they were something +more than suspicions, at least. Supposing that Charlie had received +the money, what had he done with it?</p> + +<p>So Dick said nothing, but he drew the lines tighter and made his +authority felt. What else could he do? What was his clear duty? It was +to be presumed that Mr. Hazen had had such a condition clearly in mind +when he drew his will. So Patty found herself with no more, at her +immediate command, than her allowance, which Dick intimated would be +made any reasonable amount that she wished; but all of her bills must +be sent to him for payment. He thought it the part of wisdom to write +this.</p> + +<p>The state of mind into which Patty was thrown by this letter may be +imagined. "The insolent puppy!" she cried, sitting alone in her room. +It was rather a strong epithet to apply to Dick Torrington, who never +in his life had been anything but kind and protecting. But people +seldom wish to be protected against themselves. "Upstart!" That, Dick +certainly was not. "Why, that means that I can't pay my own board. And +Miss Miller will think—I don't know what she will think, but the +whole town will know about it." Her face crimsoned with mortification. +She thought deeply for some time. "I know what I'll do," she said to +herself with determination when she had come to an end of her +thinking, which, by the way, she seldom did; not to any logical end. +"I know what I'll do. I will go right out to <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span>Doctor Sanderson's. He +won't talk. It's a little early to go into the country, but I need a +change."</p> + +<p>So Patty was quite cheerful, for the time being, while she arranged +the change which she needed so badly. Miss Miller was less cheerful +and allowed herself to remark that perhaps it was just as well, as +Patty didn't seem to be able to pay her bills promptly; able or +willing, she didn't know which and it didn't matter much which it was, +as far as she could see. But she might have stayed her season out, now +that Dick Torrington was willing to undertake the job of looking after +her, and a thankless job it was, as she, Mary Miller, could bear +witness. And thereupon Miss Mary Miller turned her back upon Miss +Patty and flounced out of the room before Patty should make any +suitable reply.</p> + +<p>Miss Miller need not have hurried out of the room, for Patty was too +much astonished to think of any fitting reply for some time. She sat +with her mouth open—a sight which it is to be presumed Miss Miller +would have been glad to see—with her mouth open, which was very +unusual for Miss Patty, and with her cheerfulness quite gone, which +was not at all unusual. After a few minutes she remembered to close +her mouth, but she did not resume her cheerfulness. So Miss Miller +knew, after all. Patty wondered, vaguely, how she had found out. She +did not suspect Dick, for Dick had a talent for keeping his own +counsel. She could not guess, although she had tried, goodness knew! +And Patty heaved a long sigh and gave it up. Then, if Mary Miller +knew, Letty Lambkin knew, and one could be sure that everybody in +town, of her acquaintance who would listen to her, would know, too.</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, Letty Lambkin was bursting with information. She +went to Mrs. Upjohn's early that year, ostensibly to make that lady +some summer clothes, but really because Mrs. Upjohn let her talk +freely; I wouldn't say that Mrs. Upjohn encouraged her to talk, for +Letty did not need any actual encouragement. But she let her talk, +freely, and that was equivalent to encouragement.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span>"Alicia," Letty began, almost as soon as she had got inside the door, +"I s'pose you know about poor Patty. It's the common talk." Mrs. +Upjohn had no chance to reply. "Dick Torrington's taken it upon +himself to manage her affairs, and all Patty has is her allowance. But +of course you know that. It seems rather a high-handed thing for Dick +to do, and he only a little tow-headed shaver when Patty was a grown +woman. I suppose he has the right to do it, or else he wouldn't. I'm +told that Patty was getting into a terrible mess with her property. +She used the checks that were meant for the builder for another +purpose, I hear. Poor Mr. Means! And Mary Miller had to wait, too."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Upjohn laughed comfortably. "I guess Charlie Ladue could tell +something about those checks."</p> + +<p>"Like enough he could," said Miss Lambkin, preparing to go to work. +"Where's your cloth, Alicia? Oh, in your room? Don't you stir. I'll +get it." She came back immediately. "Well, as I was saying, it's +really too bad that Patty's mind is giving way."</p> + +<p>"Her mind giving way!" echoed Mrs. Upjohn, surprised out of her usual +caution. "Oh, I guess not. Who told you that, Letty?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed," said Miss Lambkin with a toss of her head. "Didn't you +know that she's been sent out to Doctor Sanderson's Home for +Incurables? Dick sent her out there nearly a month ago. She's as +comfortable there as could be expected. I have it on the best of +authority—some one connected with the institution," she added with a +nod and a knowing look.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Upjohn laughed again. "I can't believe it, Letty. You must have +been misinformed. In the first place, Doctor Sanderson's place isn't a +home for incurables."</p> + +<p>"I know he doesn't call it that. To tell the truth, I can't find out +just what he does call it."</p> + +<p>"Can't your best of authority tell you that, too?" asked Mrs. Upjohn +slyly.</p> + +<p>"Now, Alicia," said Miss Lambkin with asperity, "you <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span>needn't go to +calling in question my authority. It was one of the nurses, if you +must know."</p> + +<p>"Doctor Sanderson wouldn't thank her for talking so freely," remarked +Mrs. Upjohn. "I should really like to know what he would say about +Patty. I understood that she had simply gone there to board."</p> + +<p>"I suppose she can call it that, but I don't believe that Doctor +Sanderson is running a boarding-house or a hotel either. I always +thought that she was bound for the asylum. And, another thing, I had +it from the same authority that Meriwether Beatty goes to see her +regularly once or twice a week, and he's real kind, too. I leave it to +you whether that isn't a sign that he thinks her mind is growing +feeble. He always used to say the most brutal things."</p> + +<p>"I should say it was rather a sign that Doctor Beatty was losing his +mind than that Patty was losing hers," rejoined Mrs. Upjohn.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Letty with an air of finality, "you just wait and see if +I'm not right."</p> + +<p>"I will," said Mrs. Upjohn.</p> + +<p>Miss Lambkin glanced at her smiling face and thought it best to change +the subject.</p> + +<p>"Dick Torrington," she observed, "is going to be married to that +Henrietta girl. But I suppose you know."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mrs. Upjohn.</p> + +<p>"I understood," Miss Lambkin resumed, "that the wedding was to be the +last of June."</p> + +<p>"The twenty-eighth," said Mrs. Upjohn.</p> + +<p>"Oh," rejoined Miss Lambkin, somewhat taken aback by Mrs. Upjohn's +ready replies. "And I understood that Henrietta was coming on here to +visit right away."</p> + +<p>"She came last night," said Mrs. Upjohn.</p> + +<p>"To visit with Sally, I suppose?" Letty was consumed with curiosity as +to the source of Mrs. Upjohn's accurate information. She always liked +to be the source herself.</p> + +<p>"She is the guest of Mrs. Torrington," said Mrs. Upjohn, raising her +eyes at last.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span>"Dear me, Alicia," Letty exclaimed impatiently, "how you do snap a +person up! I suppose that was why Dick was grinning so like a monkey +when I saw him yesterday afternoon."</p> + +<p>"Because I snap a person up?"</p> + +<p>"Because Henrietta was coming. He seemed to be on his way to the +station."</p> + +<p>"Possibly. He didn't tell me the reason. But Henrietta didn't come +until nearly ten o'clock."</p> + +<p>"Well!" The discomfited Letty devoted herself to her work for some +minutes in silence. But she could not keep silent long. "So Dick gave +you all that information, I suppose. I wondered how you got it all so +pat."</p> + +<p>"No," returned Mrs. Upjohn calmly. "I haven't seen Dick, to speak to, +for a good while."</p> + +<p>Miss Lambkin laid down her work. "Well, Alicia," she said slowly, +"will you be good enough to tell me how you found out all that—right +up to last night?"</p> + +<p>"Better than that, Letty," Mrs. Upjohn replied. "I know what happened +this morning, about half past seven."</p> + +<p>"They ate their breakfast, I suppose," snapped Letty. "I could have +told you that."</p> + +<p>"They didn't have breakfast until eight," said Mrs. Upjohn.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Lord!" cried Miss Lambkin in utter disgust. She had been tried +beyond the bounds of reason.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Upjohn laughed until the tears stood in her eyes. "As to my +information, Letty," she said as soon as she could speak, "I pick it +up here and there, and I use my eyes."</p> + +<p>"As much as to say that you give a good guess. I thought I was pretty +good at picking up information. But you have me beat, Alicia, I'm free +to confess."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Upjohn made no reply.</p> + +<p>"It's rather a pity that Dick didn't choose nearer home," Miss Lambkin +resumed, after pausing long enough for the reply which did not come. +"There's Sally, now."</p> + +<p>"They'd have made a good match," Mrs. Upjohn <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span>observed, sighing +reminiscently, "but there's no accounting for tastes in such matters."</p> + +<p>"Meaning Everett?" asked Letty, looking up sharply.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Upjohn shook her head. "Not especially."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you know," said Miss Lambkin pointedly, "with your sources +of accurate information, that he's hanging around again. There was a +time when it seemed to be all off for a few weeks."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Upjohn nodded.</p> + +<p>"There are some cases where you can't even give a good guess," Letty +continued maliciously. "Aren't there, Alicia?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Upjohn nodded again; but she only rocked gently and said nothing.</p> + +<p>Miss Lambkin seemed to be following out a train of thought, but in +silence. That was not her custom. She usually pursued thought with a +wild halloa.</p> + +<p>Presently she gave a sort of a cackle, which with her did duty for a +chuckle of amusement. "I'd give something to have seen Charlie Ladue +when he first heard of Patty's fix. I'll warrant he didn't like it. I +wonder whether Sally knows. It seems to me that she ought to be told."</p> + +<p>"Told what, Letty? A pack of stories that are no more than guessing? +And who's to tell her? When we know anything about Charlie it'll be +time enough to be thinking about telling Sally."</p> + +<p>"All the same," Letty pursued obstinately, "Sally ought to know."</p> + +<p>"Humph!" said Mrs. Upjohn.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_XVI3" id="CHAPTER_XVI3"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER XVI<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>Henrietta sat on the edge of Sally's bed, swinging her little feet, +which hardly touched the floor,—she had only to raise the tips and +they swung clear,—and she was as smiling, as pretty, as dainty, as +inconsequent, and as charming as ever. At least, Sally seemed to find +her charming and so, it is to be presumed, did Dick. Sally, with a +little smile upon her lips, leaned against the window casing and +looked at her. She feasted her eyes; she looked so long and she stared +so hard that Henrietta dammed, for a moment, the stream of talk that +flowed from her lips and flushed a little, faintly.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, Sally? I know my hair's in a mess. Is there +anything wrong with my dress? Have I got a dirty face? I washed it, +but if there is a smudge on my nose I think it is the part of a friend +to tell me and not let me go out looking like a fright."</p> + +<p>Sally shook her head slowly. "There's nothing the matter, Henrietta. I +was only thinking what a lucky man Dick is."</p> + +<p>The flush on Henrietta's face deepened. "Oh, do you think so, Sally?" +she asked softly. "Do you really think so? I was a little bit afraid +you didn't approve. And how about me? Don't you think I'm a lucky +girl?"</p> + +<p>"Very," answered Sally, smiling still. "Dick is everything that's +good. He's the one best man for you. But why did you think that I +might not approve?"</p> + +<p>"We—ll," said Henrietta with some hesitation, bending forward to look +at her swinging feet, then looking up at Sally, "I—I went after him +in such a barefaced manner, and you knew it." Sally shook her head +again. "Oh, yes, you did. It's no use to shake your gory locks at me. +You knew I did; the very night of your fire. I don't deny it. I did go +after <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span>him with all my might and I got him." She spoke triumphantly. +"I'm glad I went after him, for—for I never should have got him at +all if I had not. I'm proud of it, but I don't advertise it, +generally. I confess it to you, but I should deny the fact to anybody +else. Wild horses shouldn't drag it out of me. Not ever! And then, +Sally, another reason why I was a little afraid you wouldn't +approve—" Henrietta hesitated again, stopped, and once more regarded +her feet.</p> + +<p>"Well?" Sally asked, amused.</p> + +<p>"Well." Henrietta looked up and smiled. "To tell the truth, I couldn't +believe that you didn't want him yourself. There! It's out. Just a +little, Sally."</p> + +<p>Sally laughed. "Not even just a little, Henrietta. Dick is a dear +friend—he has been that to me always, ever since his kite and +Everett's broke my foot—and I hope he always will be; but the idea of +falling in love with each other never entered either of our heads. So +you may be quite easy in your mind. My heart isn't even bent."</p> + +<p>"But you know," Henrietta insisted, "that you could have got him if +you had tried as hard as I did."</p> + +<p>"I guess not," Sally replied; "not after you appeared, anyway. You +needn't distress yourself. I remember that I used to look upon Dick +and Everett with adoration, as a little girl. They were my ideals. +When they carried me home, after the kite accident, I was in the +seventh heaven. But there was nothing, even then. No, Dick is all +yours, as far as I am concerned."</p> + +<p>Henrietta breathed a sigh. "Well, I'm glad to be sure of it. But, +Sally," she continued, with a doubtful glance, as if she were a little +afraid of Sally and of what she was about to ask, "how about Everett? +Was there ever—?"</p> + +<p>Sally laughed again suddenly. "No, there wasn't. Everett never looked +at me."</p> + +<p>"But, Sally," Henrietta persisted, "it isn't so now. Does he—you +aren't engaged, are you, Sally?" she asked softly, glancing up timidly +under her long lashes.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span>Sally seemed to be in haste to reply. "Oh, no," she said. "Oh, no. I +am not likely to be. I suppose you mean Everett."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I did," returned Henrietta. She showed some surprise. "Why? Is +there anybody else?"</p> + +<p>"No, oh, no," Sally answered more hastily than before. "There isn't. +As far as I can see, I am scheduled to teach for the rest of my life."</p> + +<p>"Are you quite sure, Sally?" Henrietta urged. "Isn't there <i>anybody</i>? +Not even somebody that you wish—"</p> + +<p>Sally was getting rather red. "No, no, Henrietta," she said, +interrupting. "Now that's enough about my affairs of the heart. It's a +little embarrassing to be questioned so closely, dear."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I beg your pardon, Sally," cried Henrietta impulsively. "I +didn't mean to be. Now, <i>I</i> am just dying to be questioned closely. +Try me."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what to ask," said Sally, smiling. "I would if I did."</p> + +<p>Henrietta sighed. "You're very disappointing, Sally. If you were +really interested you would know." She sighed again. "But, anyway, +you'll be what I want you to be at my wedding, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I will. I'll be anything you want me to be." She laughed a +little. "But I warn you that I shall need coaching. What do I have to +do?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing much. You'll have all the coaching you need. You know it's +going to be at Fox's house. He's going to open it for the occasion."</p> + +<p>"Only for the occasion?" Sally spoke coldly; so coldly that her voice +did not sound natural. "I rather gathered, from a remark that he made +a while ago, that he contemplated matrimony, too."</p> + +<p>"Fox get married?" Henrietta was genuinely surprised. "Well, it's news +to me. Who's to be my sister-in-law? Did he say?"</p> + +<p>Sally shook her head. "I supposed it was probably Margaret Savage."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span>"Oh!" cried Henrietta. "I hope not." Then she seemed to be ashamed of +her outburst and sat, swinging her feet and looking wistfully at +Sally. "I had hoped," she observed at last, "that, when Fox's time +came, it would be—" She stopped and considered. "I hoped that it +would be—not Margaret Savage, Sally."</p> + +<p>Sally made no reply.</p> + +<p>"Margaret Savage is so—so <i>empty</i>, you see," Henrietta went on. "She +would not be exhilarating. But I won't say any more about her."</p> + +<p>"It isn't really necessary," Sally returned, laughing.</p> + +<p>"And the less said the better," Henrietta concluded. "I don't know +why, but it reminds me of your Cousin Patty. Dick hasn't told me much +of anything," Henrietta lowered her voice. "Do you suppose it is true +that she is losing her mind?"</p> + +<p>"Did Dick tell you that?" asked Sally, startled.</p> + +<p>Henrietta shook her head. "I heard it talked about."</p> + +<p>"I have no reason to think so. She gets queerer and more cranky every +year. She has changed a good deal since Uncle John died. Poor Patty! +She has very little comfort in life—except Charlie." Sally laughed +shortly. "I hope she finds him a comfort."</p> + +<p>Henrietta did not know what to say. Consequently she said nothing, +which was, no doubt, just the right thing.</p> + +<p>"Charlie will be home to-morrow," Sally added; then she corrected +herself. "I should have said that Charlie is due to-morrow. He may not +come."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Sally!" Henrietta cried. "What makes you speak so? It—it sounds +horrible."</p> + +<p>"It's the simple fact, Henrietta."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you do something about it? I would."</p> + +<p>Sally gave a little shrug. "What would you do? There is nothing to be +done. Charlie's a headstrong boy and he seems to have slipped away +altogether from mother's control. Patty indulges him and I don't see +how I can do anything. If he had really done anything wrong and I knew +it, it would be <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span>a different matter. I don't know that he has—but," +she added in a low voice, "I don't know that he hasn't."</p> + +<p>Henrietta chanced to glance at the watch upon her wrist. "Oh, mercy +me!" she cried, springing to her feet. "I didn't know it was so late. +I've got to meet Dick in five minutes. Good bye, Sally."</p> + +<p>Henrietta was gone, running down the stairs. She need not have hurried +so, for Dick was late. He was so late that she had become hotly +impatient and then angry with him. Indeed, she was just going away, +hurt and angry, when Dick appeared, hurrying as if he were pursued by +devils and smiling propitiatingly.</p> + +<p>"I'm awfully sorry to be so late, Henrietta," he began. "I simply +could not get away from those two bores. I came just as soon as I +could without throwing them out of the office."</p> + +<p>Henrietta's anger was dissolved like a morning mist. "Who was it, +Dick?"</p> + +<p>"The Carling twins. It took them a long time to say what they wanted +to, for you know they still stutter."</p> + +<p>"I've never seen them, although I've heard of them. What were they +trying to say?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know. To tell the truth, I was so afraid of being late +that I didn't pay as much attention as I ought to have."</p> + +<p>This confession would have been a great comfort to the Carlings, for +they had taken especial pains and made this trip for the sole purpose +of seeing Dick. What they had to say concerned Charlie Ladue. It is +not to be supposed that they would be so concerned about the acts of +Charlie Ladue, if he were the only one. But his acts would involve +Sally, sooner or later, and, so long as that was inevitable, it had +better be sooner. In fact, the sooner the better. And, each of the +Carlings knowing a thing or two, as was to be expected of them, they +had had a long deliberation on the subject, only the night before.</p> + +<p>"S—s—ssomeb—b—body ought t—to kn—n—now <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span>ab—bout it," Harry +observed. "I w—w—wouldn't b—bother m—myself ab—b—out +wh—wh—what t—that l—l—lemon of a k—kid d—did 'f—f it w—wasn't +for S—S—Sally. D—d—don't l—like t—to b—be the one t—to t—tell +on h—h—him, b—but wh—wh—who d—does? Wh—wh—who'll we t—tell? +Th—that's the q—q—question."</p> + +<p>"C—c—can't t—tell S—S—Sally," Horry remarked.</p> + +<p>"C—c—course we c—c—can't," Harry replied scornfully. "An—ny +f—f—fool'd kn—n—now th—that."</p> + +<p>"N—n—nor P—P—Patty," Horry remarked further.</p> + +<p>They both grinned. Harry did not think the observation worthy of a +reply.</p> + +<p>"M—m—might t—tell D—D—Doc—Doc—tor S—S—San—n—damn it. You +kn—now."</p> + +<p>Harry nodded. He did not care to try the name. They both knew. +"N—no," he said.</p> + +<p>"D—D—Dick?" The name came from Horry's lips with the force of an +explosion.</p> + +<p>"D—D—Dick's n—no g—good," Harry replied gloomily. "G—goin' t—to +be m—m—married 'n a l—little m—more'n a w—w—week."</p> + +<p>They both relapsed into silence.</p> + +<p>After some minutes of silence, Horry heaved a sigh. "N—n—no use," he +said. "It's D—D—Dick. C—c—can't th—think of an—nybody else. I'm +g—g—goin' d—down to—m—m—morrow. C—c—come b—back s—same +d—day; 'll—ll—ll y—you go?"</p> + +<p>Harry nodded. "'R—r—right," he said. The Carlings were to graduate +within a week, which explains their anxiety to get back.</p> + +<p>Horry rose. Their deliberations were ended. "Th—that d—d—damned +f—f—fool m—m—must ha—ha—have d—dropped m—m—more'n +f—f—fif—f—teen hundred 'n n—numbers—s—seven th—th—this +y—year. I w—wonder wh—wh—whose?"</p> + +<p>Horry's information was surprisingly accurate.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span>"G—guess it's P—P—Patty's," Harry observed.</p> + +<p>Accordingly they went down to see Dick. Their story was shot off at +him in little puffs, like a bunch of firecrackers. Dick, being +diverted by the manner of telling and being much concerned about his +engagement with Henrietta, did not take it all in, perhaps, and if he +forgot all about it during the next ten days, he is to be excused.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_XVII3" id="CHAPTER_XVII3"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER XVII<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>Henrietta's wedding was rather a quiet one, as weddings went in +Whitby. That is, there were not many more people there than the old +cream-colored house could accommodate comfortably, so that the +overflow would not have more than half filled the yard; which was +lucky, as the yard was already nearly half full of automobiles and +carriages, tightly packed by the wall. There was a long string of them +in the road, too. But as it was a lovely summer day, the first really +warm day of the summer, and as the birds were singing madly in the +orchard as though they knew it was a very special occasion and one to +be celebrated accordingly, and as the orchard was a very inviting +place with a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the apple trees, and +as the view over the little valley was more attractive than the most +beautiful interior of old houses, and as—well, without continuing the +catalogue of reasons, the people gradually drifted outside, two at a +time. They formed a cluster around the well-sweep; a cluster whose +composition was continually changing. Having given as much voice to +their admiration of the well-sweep as they thought was expected of +them, they wandered on and scattered and drew together into other +groups and scattered again; and by a repetition of this process little +clusters were formed, at last, that had no tendency to scatter.</p> + +<p>There were two groups in particular whose composition was changing, +even yet, and changing very rapidly. They were, for all the world, +like swarms of ants, the component individuals continually coming and +going like ants which were very busy and very intent on their +business. These individuals would hurry up and join the group at its +outer edge, and push and struggle to get to the centre, while others +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span>seemed equally eager to get out. So that there was a continual +movement and jostling. But if you could have looked into the centre of +either of these groups, you would have seen—no, not the bride; you +would have seen either a great bowl of punch or a table loaded with +good things, or their remains—no more than the wrecks of things. As +to the bride, she had slipped away.</p> + +<p>There was another group which had formed after the manner of these +stable groups already mentioned, and which had somewhat withdrawn +itself to the very back edge of the orchard, away from the others. The +members of this group were not concerning themselves with the punch or +with the things to eat or with the ants coming and going so +continuously, but they talked together in low voices as if they would +escape observation. They were Sally and Fox and Mrs. Ladue; but they +could not hope to escape for long. And Fox was somewhat serious, which +is not to be wondered at, he having just lost a sister, if you care to +look at it in that way. And Sally was rather serious, too, which is +not to be wondered at, for she had just lost a friend, however you +prefer to look at it. Mrs. Ladue was the only one of that group who +looked other than serious and solemn, and there was, even in her look, +something lacking to a perfect joy, for a person who cared enough to +find it might have discovered something wistful there. It was as if +she wanted something very much and knew that she could not get it. I +leave it to you whether any person can be in that state of mind and be +perfectly joyful. What it was that she wanted I do not know nor why +she could not get it; although, if the thing concerned those other +two, the only reason that she could not get it was that they were both +as blind as bats—blinder than bats.</p> + +<p>Sally was silent, gazing away at the deep woods behind them. Her +mother gazed wistfully at Sally and said nothing either. And Fox +looked at them and was as silent as they. Some one came up and +exchanged a few words with Fox and went away again; but neither Mrs. +Ladue nor Sally said <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[308]</a></span>anything. Sally was still gazing off at the +woods and seemed to be unaware of any new presence.</p> + +<p>"Sally," said Fox.</p> + +<p>She turned and looked at him, but still she said nothing.</p> + +<p>"Didn't you know who that was?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head. "Who what was?"</p> + +<p>"The man who spoke to me? But I suppose you didn't know that anybody +spoke to me. It was Horry Carling."</p> + +<p>"Oh, was it?" She did not seem interested.</p> + +<p>"He seemed to want to speak to you."</p> + +<p>"Well, why didn't he?"</p> + +<p>"Probably because you didn't seem to see him. Is there anything the +matter, Sally?"</p> + +<p>Sally smiled very slightly and very soberly. "Nothing much. Nothing +worth mentioning."</p> + +<p>They relapsed into silence again, but after a while Sally spoke.</p> + +<p>"Would you—would you be much disappointed, Fox," she asked, without +looking at him, "if I gave up teaching? Would it seem as if I were +throwing away all these years of preparation?"</p> + +<p>"No," he answered, meeting her serious mood, "I don't see that it +would. And I don't see that it matters to anybody but yourself just +when you give it up. There is no reason, now, for your keeping on with +it unless you want to. You will have to give it up soon anyway."</p> + +<p>Sally looked up at him quickly. "Why, Fox? Why will I have to?"</p> + +<p>Fox evaded this question for the time, at any rate. "Why have you +thought of giving it up now, Sally? Do the poor kids prove too +trying?"</p> + +<p>Sally nodded. "I am ashamed of it. I'm not fitted for it. I haven't +patience enough—with stupidity. But what did you mean by saying that +I would have to give it up soon?"</p> + +<p>"Why," Fox replied, casting an embarrassed glance in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span>Mrs. Ladue's +direction, "when you are married, you know—"</p> + +<p>"Oh," Sally cried with a quick and vivid blush—a rush of blood to the +head, no less,—"oh, but I shan't. I never shall."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Ladue appeared to think it a fitting time to slip away quietly.</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean," Sally went on rapidly, "to be idle. I—well, to tell +you a secret, Fox, one that I didn't mean to tell yet—I have an +idea."</p> + +<p>"Behold me suitably surprised! Sally has an idea!"</p> + +<p>Sally chuckled, which represented the height of Fox's ambition for the +moment. "Don't make fun of me, or I won't tell you what it is."</p> + +<p>"I am most seriously inclined, Sally. And a bank safe—or a strong +box—is not so secret as I am. You observe that I do not use the +ancient simile of the grave. There are many things that keep a secret +better than a grave. I am listening."</p> + +<p>With that, he inclined his head toward her.</p> + +<p>"I might box your ear instead of telling you," said Sally lightly, +"but I won't. You know," she continued, hesitating a little, "that +Uncle John's business has been—well, just kept alive, until they +should decide what to do with it."</p> + +<p>Fox nodded, wondering what she was coming at.</p> + +<p>"And I was in Uncle John's office every day for years. I got much +interested. And I—I believe that I could do something with it, Fox, +after I had served my apprenticeship at it. I think I should like to +try. The clerks and things—the machinery of the business—are there." +Fox wondered what the clerks and things would have thought of it. "I +wish I had spoken to Dick about it. He'll be away, now, for a month. +But I could write to him, couldn't I? I will."</p> + +<p>"There is a good deal in this idea of yours, Sally," was Fox's only +comment. He was looking at her with a little smile of amusement. +"Don't you want to vote?" he asked abruptly.</p> + +<p>"No, I don't," she answered as abruptly. "But I thought <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[310]</a></span>that it would +be a great pity to let an old established business just vanish. And +they all seem so proud of it. And perhaps Charlie could get into it +when he is through college. At least, if he was disposed to, it +would—it might give us—mother and me—some control over him again. +Don't you think so, Fox?"</p> + +<p>Fox shook his head gravely. "I don't know, Sally. The idea strikes me +as a good one; a good one for you. I think I should go rather slow +about Charlie."</p> + +<p>"Well—" Sally turned. "It is a secret, you know, Fox."</p> + +<p>"Between you and me, Sally," Fox returned gently.</p> + +<p>Sally returned to her contemplation of the woods. She seemed to note +something.</p> + +<p>"I believe," she said suddenly, "that those trees are good to climb."</p> + +<p>"Why," said Fox, smiling, "I believe they are."</p> + +<p>"Will you—" Sally began brightly; then she seemed to change her mind +and she changed her question accordingly.</p> + +<p>"Won't you keep this house open? It is a pity not to."</p> + +<p>"Keep the house open?" Fox repeated, puzzled.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes," she replied. "Don't you remember that you said—or +intimated—that you were going to get married?"</p> + +<p>Fox laughed. "I believe I did," he answered, "on a certain occasion. I +believe I am, although I can't say exactly when it will be."</p> + +<p>"I think, Fox," said Sally, turning to him and speaking with emphasis, +"that we are old enough friends for you to—you might tell me who the +girl is. I should like to congratulate her."</p> + +<p>"You shall know, Sally, I promise you. I wouldn't even get engaged +without your knowledge."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Sally then, brightening unconsciously, "then she hasn't +given her answer yet?"</p> + +<p>Fox had hard work to keep from laughing, but he did.</p> + +<p>"Not yet," he said.</p> + +<p>"It seems to me she takes her time about it," Sally observed.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span>"Should she give me her answer before she is asked?"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" Sally cried. "So you haven't even asked her! Well, I think +you're a slow poke."</p> + +<p>"Do you?" Fox said slowly. "Do you? Well, perhaps I am. Perhaps I am. +It had not occurred to me. I'll think it over."</p> + +<p>"And Margaret—" said Sally.</p> + +<p>"Margaret!" Fox interrupted, mystified.</p> + +<p>"Considering the imminence of the—the catastrophe," Sally went on, +smiling a little, "it might be just as well to climb while I have the +chance."</p> + +<p>"Now?"</p> + +<p>Sally looked around. The crowd was thinning, but it was still a crowd.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not now. But on the first opportunity."</p> + +<p>"There'll be a good many opportunities. Even after—"</p> + +<p>Sally shook her head. "I couldn't come here, you know, and climb +trees. Only think what Margaret would say—and think!"</p> + +<p>"Margaret!" Fox exclaimed again. "Why, I don't remember intimating +anything about—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Doctor Sanderson," cried a high and quavering voice; the voice of +Miss Patty Havering Hazen, "here you are at last! I have been looking +everywhere."</p> + +<p>Ah! Doctor Sanderson; you are saved again! Good for you, Patty! Good +on your head! But is it possible that the doctor did not want to be +saved? Did we hear aright?</p> + +<p>"Damn!" observed Doctor Sanderson quietly. It was a heartfelt +observation made for his own satisfaction, so far as a mere remark +could accomplish that desirable end, and was intended, we may be sure, +for no other ears than his own. But Sally heard it and chuckled.</p> + +<p>Yes, good for you, Patty! There is no knowing what he might have been +led into saying if he had not been interrupted at this point; what +unwise course he might have pursued. You were just in time, Patty, to +save him from his folly.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_XVIII3" id="CHAPTER_XVIII3"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER XVIII<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>That old office from whose windows one could see the rows of oil casks +and the fence of old ships' sheathing and the black dust of the road +and the yards of vessels—that old office which had been sleeping for +something more than a year—that old office which had been left behind +when the business centre of Whitby began to move uptown, so many years +ago—that old office, as I started to say at the beginning, was waking +up again.</p> + +<p>One hot morning in early August, Horry Carling stood at the window, +his hands thrust deep into his pockets, and he gazed at a row of oil +casks; gazed thoughtfully and for a long time. Then a smile began to +curl the corners of his mouth. Presently he chuckled.</p> + +<p>"I s—s—say, O—Ol—lie, c—c—come here; th—that is, if—f—f +S—S—Sally c—can s—s—spare you."</p> + +<p>Sally looked up from her papers. Her hair was in a pretty disorder; in +a disorder that was very attractive, indeed, being somewhat rumpled in +the front and running over with little ringlets, formed by the heat +and the dampness, at her forehead and by the sides of her ears and +down at her neck. She was busy, but she was interested and she was +happy, for which I, for one, am thankful. She brushed the ringlets out +of her eyes, impatiently, and smiled.</p> + +<p>"Go ahead, Ollie," she said. "What is it, Horry?"</p> + +<p>"O—only a r—r—row of b—b—bar—r—rels," he replied. Ollie Pilcher +was standing at his elbow now, looking over his shoulder. "D—d—do +y—y—you rem—em—mmb—ber th—that r—r—row?" Horry asked. +"M—m—might b—b—be the th—the v—v—very s—same b—b—b—barrels."</p> + +<p>Ollie burst out laughing. He did remember. "How long ago was that, +Horry?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span>"S—s—sev—ven years," he answered. "Ab—b—bout th—this t—t—time +o' y—year, w—w—wasn't it?"</p> + +<p>Ollie nodded.</p> + +<p>"Oh," Sally cried, "I remember that, too."</p> + +<p>Horry turned. "Y—y—you d—do!" he spluttered in surprise. +"Wh—wh—where w—w—were y—you?"</p> + +<p>"Sitting at that very window," she returned. "Uncle John saw it, +too,—some of it."</p> + +<p>Horry chuckled again. "Y—y—your Un—n—cle"—here he winked and gave +a peculiar twitch to his eyebrows, as though that last syllable hurt +him—"J—J—John w—was a b—brick, S—S—Sally."</p> + +<p>"He was, Horry. You don't know what a brick he was." She sighed +lightly and then she laughed. "Whatever did you do with your jacket?"</p> + +<p>"M—m—most s—set th—the h—house af—f—fire w—with it. I—it +w—w—was a p—pretty n—n—new j—j—j—th—there!—c—coat, and +m—m—moth—ther c—c—couldn't b—b—bear to th—throw it aw—w—way, +s—so sh—sh—she k—k—kept it l—lying ar—r—round 'n—n—ntil +w—w—winter. Th—then sh—she t—t—told m—me t—to p—p—put it +in—n—to th—the f—f—furnace. M—m—most s—set th—the h—house +af—f—f—fire. F—f—full o' o—o—oil, y' kn—n—now. H—h—hor—rid +sm—sm—smoke."</p> + +<p>Ollie and Sally were chuckling in little bursts.</p> + +<p>Horry sighed. "Th—those t—t—times w—were f—f—fun, th—though," +he said; "g—great—t—test f—f—fun th—that e—ever w—was. +N—never c—c—come ag—g—gain, w—will th—they, Ol—Ollie?"</p> + +<p>"Oh," Ollie replied lazily, grinning, "I don't know. I'd like to run +'em again, right now."</p> + +<p>"You boys had better not," Sally remarked, with a shake of the head. +"Those barrels belong to the firm, you know. You'd be the losers, as +well as I—and the Hazen Estate."</p> + +<p>"'T—t w—w—would b—be m—m—more f—f—fun th—than s—some +th—things I kn—n—now ab—b—bout," <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span>Horry observed cryptically, +"an' l—l—less ex—x—xpen—s—sive."</p> + +<p>Ollie looked at him and they both grinned and went back to their +desks.</p> + +<p>As may have been inferred, Horry Carling and Ollie Pilcher were, if +not members of the firm of John Hazen, Inc., at least stockholders. +Harry Carling would have liked to enter the Law School; but being +debarred, for obvious reasons, from practising law, he had chosen +engineering. Which, it may be remarked in passing, having been chosen +rather from reasons of expedience than because he had any natural +taste or aptitude in that direction, may not have been a wise choice. +Horry, who had gone into what he liked the best and wanted the most, +stood a much better chance of making a success of his life. Had not +his grandfather been a great ship captain almost all the days of his +life? And Ollie's grandfather, too? It was in their blood. If the salt +is in a man's blood—or a boy's—it must come out, sooner or later, or +engender a ferment which will trouble that man as long as he lives. +And Horry and Ollie, having the natural taste for what they were doing +and having had a pretty fair training for it all through their +boyhood, fitted into the new firm of John Hazen, Inc., like new parts +into a machine. It needed only a little polishing by wear for that +machine to run as smoothly as it had been running for fifty years.</p> + +<p>Sally worked hard at her new business. She had compounded with her +conscience by not giving up her teaching yet—definitely. She would +teach one more year, at least. Then, she said to herself, if she still +felt as she did now, it would not be right for her to keep on with it. +Meanwhile, she would have some time every afternoon, and, with Horry +and Ollie,—really, it was going pretty well, much better than she had +sometimes feared. And at this point she would sigh and smile and fall +to looking out of the window at the yards of the ships—<i>her</i> ships, +she liked to think, although, of course, they were not all hers, but +they belonged <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span>to the stockholders in John Hazen, Inc., according to +their holdings, and that list included Patty and Dick and Horry +Carling and Ollie Pilcher and some others; but she liked to look out +at the vessels and imagine that they were all hers. And she saw the +rows of oil-barrels and the black dust of the road, which was kept +pretty well stirred up by the feet of the horses which dragged the +heavy trucks in an almost continuous procession. At any rate, she +could call the dust hers,—if she wanted to,—for it would not have +been stirred up if it had not been for her, but would have lain +quietly there until it ceased to be dust at all and became no more +than the surface of a street that was almost abandoned; baked hard by +the sun and gullied by the rain and somewhat grass-grown. Then she +would laugh and decide that she did not want the dust anyway; she had +quite enough of that. As for her method of compounding with her +conscience, it pleased her better than it pleased Mr. MacDalie, who +did not share her misgivings.</p> + +<p>Sally's efforts were not enough to induce Charlie to spend his +vacation slaving in an office. Every one might not call the occupation +of Horry and Ollie slaving. Sally mildly suggested that view of the +matter.</p> + +<p>"If I owned some stock in it, the matter would have a different +aspect, no doubt," Charlie replied sarcastically. "As it is, I should +be nothing but a clerk."</p> + +<p>He was lucky to have the chance to start with that, Sally pointed out. +It was possible that he was not fitted to be more than office boy.</p> + +<p>With this shot, which may have been unduly hard upon Charlie, Sally +turned away. Charlie, at any rate, thought it unduly hard, and felt +much injured. Sally was always hard on him; unfair. What could she +know against him? And, having procured a horse at a livery +stable,—the liveliest young horse they had, with the most stylish +rig, which, by the way, Sally would have the privilege of paying +for,—Charlie took his way out to Doctor Sanderson's to see Patty and +to be consoled and, incidentally, with the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span>secret hope that Patty had +a few dollars to spare for a deserving and much misunderstood boy. For +Patty managed to save up a few dollars for that purpose now and then, +although Dick had greatly curtailed her sources of supply. No, they +were <i>his</i> sources of supply which had been curtailed by Dick, Charlie +said to himself. Damn Dick anyway! What right had he to do such a +thing? Where should he, Charlie, get money in time of need? Where +should he, indeed? Damn Dick! And Charlie gave the lively young horse +a cut with the whip, as if the horse were responsible. The lively +young horse resented cuts with the whip and proceeded to run; which +gave Charlie so much occupation that he forgot, for the moment, about +Dick.</p> + +<p>Charlie was getting more and more into the habit of getting rigs at +the livery stable, as the summer went on,—rigs which were invariably +charged to Sally, she having made no objection to previous charges of +a like nature—and of going out to see Patty. Doctor Sanderson's place +was so indecently far out anyway that you had to have a horse or an +automobile. He couldn't be expected to walk it, and, of course, he had +to see Patty occasionally. You wouldn't have him so ungrateful as not +to go to see her at all, would you? He supposed Sally would have to +pay for the rigs, for <i>he</i> hadn't any of Uncle John's money, had he? +The fact that this was not strictly true did not seem to occur to him; +and the fact that Patty had put the stout horse at his disposal made +no difference, so far as the livery stable was concerned. +They—meaning Sally—might consider themselves lucky that he did not +get an automobile to make the journey of two miles and a half. He +couldn't be expected to drive a horse that was thirty years old and +was only fit for the bone-yard, now, could he? You could make it in +five minutes with an auto and he thought that they—meaning Sally +again—might save money if he did get one. Of course he wasn't going +to. He would defer to their absurd prejudice on that point. And more +to the same effect.</p> + +<p>It was no wonder that Sally turned away without <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span>speaking. She was +afraid to answer; afraid of what she might be led to say. And she +would go down to the office and sit looking out of the window and +wondering what was to become of Charlie and what she could do about +it; wondering what it was that he did in college that it seemed to +have such an unfortunate influence on him; wondering whether it would +not be better for him, after all, to come out and be made to go to +work. She almost decided that it would. Then she remembered that she +had not the only word to say about that. There were others who would +have something to say and the attempt would raise a storm. Sally was +not afraid of storms, but—well—and she would look up to find Horry +staring at her as if he wanted to tell her something.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Horry?" she would ask, smiling.</p> + +<p>Horry would be distinctly embarrassed. He always was: and he always +made the same reply. "N—no—noth—th-thing, S—S—Sally," he would +say, with a sigh. "I—i—it's n—n—noth—th—thing, o—only I +h—h—hate t—to s—s—see you s—so b—b—both—thered ab—b—b—bout +an—n—nyth—th—thing. Ch—er—n—n—nob—body's wo—worth it."</p> + +<p>That was as much as she could get out of him, although, to tell the +truth, she did not try very hard. She only asked her question for his +sake, he seemed to want so much to tell something. It did not occur to +her that what Horry wanted to say he wanted to say for her sake; and +it was for her sake that he did not say it, although it trembled on +the very tip of his tongue. Perhaps it trembled too much. Perhaps, if +he had found speaking an easier matter, he would have told what he +seemed to be on the point of telling.</p> + +<p>Toward the last of August, Henrietta and Dick came back. Henrietta, of +course, did not have much time, but she did manage to come and see +Sally at the office, one afternoon, on which occasion she completely +upset the business of John Hazen, Inc., and all the members of the +firm, both present and prospective, fluttered about her and gave her +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span>their undivided attention. Naturally, this state of affairs pleased +Henrietta, but it embarrassed her, too, for you can't—or a girl who +has been recently married can't—speak out freely concerning the +secrets which burden her bosom before two unmarried young +fellows,—not that the fact of their being unmarried made any +difference, of course,—but before two young fellows whom she had +never seen before in her life. But Henrietta made an effort to see +Sally alone, and on the occasion of that effort, which was successful, +she talked a steady stream about Dick, to all of which Sally assented +with a smile and with as much enthusiasm as even Henrietta could wish.</p> + +<p>"And, you know, Sally," she said at the end of this eulogium—and +otherwise, "you know, we are in a difficulty now. It is not a very +great difficulty and yet it is, too. We don't know where to live."</p> + +<p>"How terrible!" said Sally.</p> + +<p>"There are so few houses that are—well, dignified enough; suited to +Dick's position, you know."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you build?"</p> + +<p>"We might, of course, but that would take a long time, and—and, to +tell the truth, I've set my—we have set our hearts on an old house; +not too old, you know."</p> + +<p>"I see," said Sally; "just old enough."</p> + +<p>"Exactly," Henrietta agreed. "Just old enough. Now there's Miss +Patty's house. It's restored and the work's done."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"And Miss Patty doesn't seem inclined to live in it. She doesn't like +to leave Fox's. I saw her and spoke about it, and she said so."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, where is the difficulty? Patty's house is a very +pleasant, homelike house. I judge that it is just old enough. Can't +you rent it?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Henrietta in accents of despair. "Patty won't rent it. She +says she may want to go back at any minute. She said she'd be glad to +oblige me, as Doctor Sanderson's <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span>sister, but my being Mr. +Torrington's wife changes the aspect of the matter. She seems to have +some grudge against Dick."</p> + +<p>Sally laughed. "That isn't so strange. Knowing Patty, I should think +you'd better give up the idea for the present."</p> + +<p>"That's just it," Henrietta replied hastily. "For the present. That +makes it unwise for us to build, when we may be able to get that house +at any time almost. Of course, Dick must not seem to force Miss Patty +in any way. He had to use his authority under the will, you know. Mr. +Hazen would have expected him to and would have <i>wished</i> him to, or +why should he have made his will that way? He <i>had</i> to—Dick, I mean, +of course—Dick simply <i>had</i> to, don't you see, Sally, when he found +that Patty had been using all that money and she wouldn't tell what +she had used it for—wouldn't give a hint, you know. Dick only wanted +a hint, so that he could keep his accounts straight, or something of +that sort. It wasn't evident at all that Patty had used it for +herself—Oh!" And Henrietta suddenly clapped her hand over her pretty +mouth. "Have I been telling secrets, Sally? Have I?" She looked rather +scared, as people were apt to be in any matter which concerned Sally, +though I can't see why. Sally was as mild as a lamb in such cases.</p> + +<p>She was mild now, but she was gazing at Henrietta with solemn and +serious eyes, as if she had discovered a new country.</p> + +<p>"I don't know, Henrietta," she replied, "whether you are telling +secrets or not. What you were telling was news to me. If you are in +any doubt about it, I should think you'd better not tell any more. But +you can see why Patty is not inclined to do any favor for Dick."</p> + +<p>"Well," returned Henrietta slowly—slowly for her, "I suppose I can, +although <i>I</i> think that Dick is doing her the <i>greatest</i> favor. As far +as her house is concerned, Dick might feel at liberty to rent to any +one else, but not to himself. I'm sure I hope he won't rent to anybody +else, whatever he does or Patty doesn't do. He ought not to do +anything <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[320]</a></span>that could be considered dishonorable, of course, but I +can't quite see why this would be. But he simply won't."</p> + +<p>"No," said Sally. "I should expect that of Dick."</p> + +<p>"There doesn't seem to be anything to do about it," Henrietta +continued, "unless—unless," she suggested with hesitation, "you would +see Patty, Sally."</p> + +<p>Sally smiled with amusement. "Of course I will if you want me to, +Henrietta. But I'm not the one to make a successful emissary to Patty. +I'm not in favor any more than Dick. You'd much better make up to +Charlie if you want anything of Patty; much better."</p> + +<p>"That seems to be a good idea," Henrietta murmured, gazing +thoughtfully at Sally the while, "and easy too. I'll do it."</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_XIX3" id="CHAPTER_XIX3"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER XIX<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>Henrietta had no great difficulty in doing it. She made a good +beginning before Charlie went back to college, although she had only a +little more than a fortnight, and she continued her attentions at +frequent intervals thereafter. There was nothing crude about either +Henrietta or her methods. She did not let him suspect her object or, +indeed, that she had an object, and Charlie did not look for one. His +own attractions were enough, goodness knows, to account for any +attentions that might be lavished upon him, and he accepted those +attentions almost as a matter of course. But as attentions and he had +become, to a certain extent, strangers,—always excepting Patty's +attentions, which did not count,—Charlie was very grateful in his +inmost soul and he made the most of them. He came down to Whitby more +often than he had been in the habit of doing and he invariably went to +the Torringtons' at the first possible moment and spent as much time +there as he could. He even developed a certain shyness which was very +becoming. But he avoided Dick. He had a grudge against Dick and he was +resolved not to forget it. Dick had done him an injury.</p> + +<p>He did find himself forgetting that injury, in time. Who, in the face +of Dick's leisurely cordiality and general good nature, could remember +not to forget it? And in time—not so very long a time either—he +perceived that Henrietta had a secret sorrow which gnawed like a worm +at her heart. He set himself the task of pursuing this sorrow and +plucking it out; and—marvel of marvels!—he succeeded in dragging +from the unwilling Henrietta some information as to its nature. We +can, perhaps, imagine the reluctance with which this information was +given.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span>Charlie, although he may have been secretly disappointed that +Henrietta's sorrow was not more serious,—he may have thought that it +was of no less import than that she had found, too late, that she +loved another man better than she did her husband,—Charlie, I say, +although he may have been disappointed, managed to conceal whatever of +disappointment he felt.</p> + +<p>"Oh," he said magnanimously and with sufficient indifference, "don't +you worry about that. I can fix that. I'll just speak to Patty about +it the very next time I go out there."</p> + +<p>He did; and he reported to Henrietta that he had prevailed upon Patty +to consent to any arrangement she liked. He had also prevailed upon +Patty—not reported to Henrietta—to scrape together as many dollars +as she could conveniently manage to scrape—conveniently or +inconveniently, it was all one to Charlie—and to hand them over to +him for some purpose. It really does not matter what the purpose was. +Charlie was very fertile in invention, and if it was not one thing it +was another. Any excuse was good enough. But the strain was telling +upon Patty. Charlie should have been more careful.</p> + +<p>Henrietta was so pleased with the report that she redoubled her +attentions. This may not have been wise, but there seems to be no +doubt that it was good for Charlie, on the whole. He went in to number +seven but once before Christmas, and there might have been some ground +for hope that, between Henrietta's attentions and his devotion to +automobiles, he might be induced to give it up altogether. Harry +Carling, who was keeping as close a watch upon Charlie as he could, +hoped so, at all events.</p> + +<p>For Charlie, in his sophomore year, ran to motor cars. Indulgence of a +fine fancy for motors is apt to be expensive, as Patty was finding +out, but it is not as expensive as Charlie's one other diversion is +apt to be, on occasion. That his one experience of it, in his first +term, was not more expensive must be set down solely to luck.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span>Automobiles were bad enough, as a diversion, for a boy who could +afford them no better than Charlie Ladue. Patty learned of them with +horror. She had hoped, fondly, that Charlie had given them up after +his experience with them only last Easter; oh, she <i>hoped</i> he had. She +said it with tears in her eyes and with an agonized expression that +would have melted a heart less hard than Charlie's. But Charlie merely +smiled. That phantom car had done him no harm, although he did not +call it a phantom car to Patty. Motor cars were not for the Hazens; +not for people of the older régime. And Charlie smiled again and +remarked that they might not have come to motors yet, but they would. +Patty said, with some spirit, that they were vulgar and that +they—they had a bad smell. For her part, she was satisfied to go no +faster than nature intended. The horse, as Charlie might be aware, was +the fastest animal that goes.</p> + +<p>Having delivered this shot with evident pride, Patty sat back in her +chair and waited to see if Charlie would be able to make any reply. +She considered that last argument unanswerable. Charlie apparently did +not. He observed that Pat's horse, rising thirty and rather fat, could +hardly be called the fastest animal that goes. He never was very fast. +But he contented himself with that, for Patty had just turned over to +him all the ready money that she could raise and was feeling really +impoverished in consequence. So Charlie, having got what he came for, +took his leave, bidding Pat not to be anxious on his account, for he +wasn't going to get smashed up again—he almost forgot to put in the +"again"—and he wasn't going to spend much money on machines in the +future. They always cost more at first, before you got used to them. +With this comforting assurance, at which poor Patty sighed and said +that she hoped he was right, Charlie went out cheerfully to sit behind +one of the fastest animals that go, and to take the rig, for which +Sally would have to pay, back to the livery stable.</p> + +<p>Nothing in particular happened that winter, except that Dick and +Henrietta moved into Miss Patty's house early in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span>February. Patty was +getting to be considered—and to consider herself—one of Doctor +Sanderson's patients. And the Retreat was filling up and she did not +want to give up her comfortable room, with the probable chance that +she would be unable to get it again when she came back. In fact, it +looked as if anybody had better hold on to what she had at Doctor +Sanderson's.</p> + +<p>So Sally saw but little of Fox that winter. They were both very busy, +and Sally had her hands and her head full, with the office and her +school, too. But she liked the office in spite of the work which, +between you and me, was not very hard. There was a good deal of it, +but it was interesting and Sally went home at night, tired and happy +and with her head full of schemes. Sometimes Everett was waiting for +her. She did not know whether she liked that or not, but there did not +seem to be reason enough for sending him away. She did not quite know +what her relations were with Everett; friendly, she hoped, no more. +For there was a difference between Sally's state of mind now and her +state of mind the year before. She was not indifferent now, she was +happy and things mattered in a wholesome way. But Sally knew that Fox +had not opened the cream-colored house again; not since Henrietta's +wedding. He had not even made any preparations to open it. Sally was +watching that house, out of the corner of her eye, and she knew. What +an old slow poke he was, wasn't he? The winter was gone before she +knew it and it was almost Easter. Then, one afternoon, Charlie made +his appearance, suddenly and unexpectedly, and went up to see +Henrietta almost immediately.</p> + +<p>Sally was vaguely worried by this sudden appearance of Charlie, she +could not tell why. She had felt, all along, a great relief that he +had taken so readily to the Henrietta treatment and she had felt some +surprise at it. Having worried about it for an hour, she put it aside. +It would be time enough to worry when she knew there was something to +worry about. When that time did come, she would not have time to +worry, for she would probably be too busy <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span>doing something about it. +It was inaction that worried Sally, which is the case with most of us. +At any rate, Charlie was all right for the present. He had only gone +up to Henrietta's. Then Harry Carling came in: "J—j—just c—c—came +d—d—down t—to s—s—see H—H—Ho—orry, y—y—you kn—n—now, +S—S—Sally, f—f—for a m—m—min—n—nute." And Sally smiled and +shook hands with Harry and hastened to say—to save Horry the painful +experience of mentioning the matter—that he could go whenever he +wanted to, so far as she knew. And they went out together.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_XX3" id="CHAPTER_XX3"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER XX<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>John Upjohn Junior ran into the house just in time for supper. He was +so excited and his entrance was so precipitate that he almost collided +with his mother, who had just reached the foot of the stairs; and only +by the exercise of almost superhuman agility he managed to avoid that +catastrophe. It was just as well, for many reasons; the reason which +influenced John Junior being that such an accident was likely to +result, then and thereafter, in more damage to himself than to his +mother.</p> + +<p>He flung his cap down on the hall table with such violence that it +slid off and fell upon the floor; but he could not pick it up at the +moment because he was engaged in shedding his overcoat, which +immediately slipped off of his arms upon a chair. He began to speak at +once.</p> + +<p>"M—m—m—moth—ther!" he exclaimed explosively. "I—I—'v—ve—darn +it all!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Upjohn rebuked her offspring mildly. "John, what is the matter +with you? Is your name Carling, that you can't speak without +stuttering so? And I should think you would do well to moderate your +language, at any rate when you speak to your mother. And you must +learn to come into the house less like a tornado. Come in quietly, +like a gentleman."</p> + +<p>John Junior gave a contemptuous grunt. "J—just been h—hearing the +Carlings talking. That's wh—why I can't talk 'n' wh—why I +st—st—stut—t—ter so. Gosh darn it! I mean hang it!"</p> + +<p>"Pick up your cap, John," Mrs. Upjohn commanded sternly. "And hang it, +if you will." This pun of Mrs. Upjohn's somewhat softened her stern +command. She could not help smiling.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span>John kicked his cap out from behind the table and, picking it up, +threw it at the hat-rack, where it happened to catch and stick. He +began again.</p> + +<p>"I—I—I'v—ve g—g—got s—s—s—"</p> + +<p>"Suppose you go up and wash your face and hands," Mrs. Upjohn +suggested, "and come down to supper. The bell rang before you came in. +When you come down you may be able to talk intelligibly."</p> + +<p>So John Junior rushed upstairs and, after an incredibly short period, +during which we must suppose that he went through some sort of an +operation which he regarded as sufficient, he appeared again, slid +down the balusters like lightning, landed at the bottom with an +appalling thump, and ran into the dining-room.</p> + +<p>"Guess I can talk now," he announced, taking his chair by the back and +sliding it under him. "I was hurrying home, so's not to be late to +supper, when I came up behind the Carlings. They—Letty ain't here, is +she?" he added, looking about doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"No," Mrs. Upjohn replied. "You know that Letty won't come again for +more than a month."</p> + +<p>"Huh!" growled John Junior. "She will if she feels like it. Never can +tell when she'll be here. She's always here."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Upjohn was a little slow about taking anything in. She had been +puzzling over John's former speech and had just the full import of it.</p> + +<p>"Did you say the Carlings, John?" she asked. "I don't see how that can +be, for Harry's in Cambridge."</p> + +<p>"He ain't either," John replied amiably. "Don't you s'pose I'd know +those freaks? I guess I would."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Mrs. Upjohn doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"And they were talking together," John continued, "or trying to talk. +They didn't know I was behind 'em, and I kept still as I could so's I +could hear what they said. They ought to have an interpreter. But I +got most of it, and then I slid out for fear they'd see me. What d'you +s'pose they were talking about?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span>"I'm sure I don't know," said Mrs. Upjohn curiously.</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>John kept his mother in suspense while he disposed of his mouthful. He +swallowed twice, then took a drink of water. At last he was ready and +he looked at his mother, suspending operations for that purpose.</p> + +<p>"Charlie Ladue's a gambler," he announced abruptly.</p> + +<p>"What!" Mrs. Upjohn exclaimed. But she was pleased in spite of +herself. What would Letty say to that? "Are you sure you heard it +right?"</p> + +<p>"'Course I'm sure."</p> + +<p>"Well, John, I'm grieved to hear it. You must be careful not to talk +about it."</p> + +<p>"'Course I won't talk about it. I'll stop now if you want me to."</p> + +<p>"No," said Mrs. Upjohn judicially. "No, I think you ought to tell me +all you heard. How long has it been going on and where does Charlie +go?"</p> + +<p>So John Junior retailed at some length all that he had heard, rather +to the neglect of his supper. Certain important details were lacking +and he had to fill them in from his imaginings, which were rather +defective as to the points under discussion.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Mrs. Upjohn, when the recital and the supper were both +finished, "I think somebody ought to be told. I don't just like to +tell Sally, but she ought to know."</p> + +<p>"They didn't want to tell Sally either. Horry Carling's in her office +and he could tell her easy enough if he wanted to."</p> + +<p>"That's so," Mrs. Upjohn agreed. "I guess I'll tell Patty. I have a +pretty good idea where Charlie's money came from. Patty won't thank +me, but somebody ought to open her eyes. I'll go out there to-morrow. +I wonder if I couldn't find somebody who's going out. You look around, +early to-morrow, before school, and see if you can't find somebody +that's going and send him up here. There's no need to hire a horse, +for that."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</a></span>Accordingly the grocer's delivery wagon stopped at the house the next +forenoon, and the boy asked for Mrs. Upjohn. That lady came to the +door, looking a little puzzled. It seemed that John had—</p> + +<p>Mrs. Upjohn laughed. "And he's gone to school," she said. "I didn't +mean that he should ask you." She laughed again. "But I don't know why +I shouldn't go in a grocery wagon. It's perfectly respectable."</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am," the boy replied, grinning. "And it's a very nice wagon, +almost new, and it's very comfortable."</p> + +<p>Patty was sitting at her window when the grocer's wagon stopped at the +door and Mrs. Upjohn got out.</p> + +<p>"Mercy on us!" Patty exclaimed. "If there isn't Alicia Upjohn! She'll +break her neck. Come in a grocer's wagon! Alicia was always queer, but +there is a point beyond which—yes, there <i>is</i> a point beyond which +she should not allow herself to go." And Miss Patty gasped faintly and +leaned back, and in a few minutes she heard Mrs. Upjohn at her door.</p> + +<p>That interview was painful to Patty, at least. Mrs. Upjohn was rather +pressed for time, as the grocer's boy could not wait more than fifteen +minutes. It is a little difficult to break unwelcome news gently in +fifteen minutes. It might have been difficult to break this particular +news, which was very unwelcome, even if there had been no time limit +set by a grocer's boy. But within ten minutes Mrs. Upjohn had Patty in +tears and protesting her belief in Charlie's innocence and exhibiting +all her characteristic obstinacy in the face of proof. Had not Charlie +been there that very morning to see her? He had just left, indeed, and +he had been as loving as the most exacting of doting aunts could wish. +Didn't Alicia suppose that she, Patty, would be able to detect any +signs of wrong-doing on his part? At which Alicia smiled and made a +reply which made Patty almost frantic and within the five minutes +which remained Patty had told Alicia that she would do well to mind +her own business and she wished she would go and never come near her +again. So, the fifteen <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[330]</a></span>minutes being almost up, Alicia went, with +what dignity she could summon. She met Doctor Beatty in the lower hall +and told him that he had better see to Patty, who seemed beside +herself. He went at once; and Mrs. Upjohn seized that opportunity to +climb into her seat beside the grocer's boy.</p> + +<p>Doctor Beatty was with Patty a long time and used every art he had—he +hadn't many, but he used all he had with a degree of patience that was +surprising—to quiet Patty, who needed quieting if ever anybody did. +He was more alarmed by that disturbance of Patty's than he would have +acknowledged; more than he had expected, he found, although he had +been in daily expectation of something of the kind.</p> + +<p>He found her muttering to herself and exclaiming brokenly. She looked +at him with wild eyes. "Go away!" she cried as he entered. "He's not, +I tell you. He never did!"</p> + +<p>"No," Doctor Beatty agreed calmly. "Certainly not. But there! You +don't want me to go away, Patty." He pulled up a chair and sat down.</p> + +<p>"Not that chair!" she cried. "Not that chair! That's the chair she sat +in—Alicia Upjohn. If you sit in it you'll say so, too. Take any +other, but not that one."</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well," he said. And he drew up another chair and sat down. +"Now, tell me what's the matter."</p> + +<p>At this Patty began to weep violently. Her sentences were broken, and +now and then she gave a loud cry that seemed to be wrung from her +heart.</p> + +<p>"Alicia oughtn't to have said it. She might have known how—that +I—how I would f-f—Oh!" She could not speak for a moment. "She just +wanted me to think that that was where my money went. She's a spiteful +thing. Oh, how could she? How could she? Cruel! Cruel!" Patty fell to +weeping again. She seemed to lose all control over herself. She rocked +to and fro and leaned so far over, in her new fit of crying, that +Doctor Beatty put out his hand to save her from falling. He was glad +to have her cry so.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[331]</a></span>She seized his hand and pressed it and looked up at him appealingly, +her eyes raining tears. "Oh, Meriwether," she sobbed, "you don't think +he does, do you? Tell me that you don't."</p> + +<p>He looked down into those faded eyes. "Certainly I don't, Patty," he +answered gently. Out of the pity which he felt for her, he may have +pressed her hand a little. He had but the faintest idea what she was +talking about.</p> + +<p>Patty flushed and relaxed her hold upon his hand. "You are a +c-c-comfort, Meriwether," she said more calmly. "It is a great deal to +know that I have one friend, at least, who understands me. I—I—have +so few, Meriwether!" She began to sob again. "S-so f-f-few, and I used +to have so so many!"</p> + +<p>"Cry quietly as much as you like, Patty. It will do you good."</p> + +<p>He made a slight movement, at which Patty cried out.</p> + +<p>"Don't go! Don't go yet!" She put out her hand blindly, as if to stop +him.</p> + +<p>"I'll stay until you are yourself again. Never fear." He sighed +faintly.</p> + +<p>It was a new rôle for Doctor Beatty, but he played it better than +would have been expected. Patty turned to the window and he heard the +sound of sobbing steadily for some time. At last the sound ceased. She +was sitting with her chin resting on her hand, which held her wet +handkerchief crumpled up into a tight ball; and she was looking out +through her tears, but seeing nothing, and she seemed to have +difficulty in breathing.</p> + +<p>"He's such a good boy—to me!" she said, without turning. "Such a good +boy! I am so fond of him that it almost breaks my heart to have +anybody say—say such things. How can they? How can they have the +heart?" She gave a single sob.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXI3" id="CHAPTER_XXI3"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[332]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER XXI<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>Sally sat by her window in the office of John Hazen, Inc., looking +absently out of it. Doctor Beatty was talking to her earnestly, in low +tones, and she was serious and sober, listening intently.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Upjohn," he was saying,—"thrifty soul!—came out to Sanderson's +this morning with the grocer's boy"—Sally chuckled suddenly, in spite +of her seriousness, but stopped as suddenly—"and went up to see +Patty. I'd like," he interrupted himself to say emphatically, "to see +every visitor of suspicious character required to show cause for +seeing the patients. Yes," he nodded in reply to a questioning look of +Sally's, "Patty is a patient. There's no doubt about that, I'm afraid. +And Mrs. Upjohn is a suspicious character. There is no doubt about +that either. Oh, yes, well-meaning, perhaps; even probably. But she +should not have been allowed to see Patty. I consider Patty's +condition—er—ticklish. Distinctly ticklish."</p> + +<p>Sally was surprised. "What do you mean? How is her condition +ticklish?"</p> + +<p>"Mentally," he replied.</p> + +<p>Sally turned to Doctor Beatty with a start and looked him straight in +the eyes. She wanted to see just what he meant. Then she shuddered.</p> + +<p>"I hope not," she said.</p> + +<p>"Well, we won't think of it. We are doing our best. But Mrs. Upjohn +succeeded in upsetting her completely in a very few minutes. I was +afraid, at first, that the mischief was done. Oh, it wasn't. She came +back all right. I couldn't make her tell me what Mrs. Upjohn had said, +but, picking up a thread here and there, I judged that Charlie had +been misbehaving himself somehow. I couldn't find out just <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[333]</a></span>how. I am +sorry to add another log to your load, Sally, but I thought that you +would be glad to be told of what seems to be common report. I know +that I would."</p> + +<p>"I am," she said. "I'm glad and sorry, too. But I'm greatly obliged to +you." She was silent for some little time, looking out and thinking +hard. "Do you know what kind of misbehavior it is?" she asked. "I'm +pretty familiar with several kinds," she added, with a hard little +laugh. "Don't be afraid to tell me the truth if you know it."</p> + +<p>Doctor Beatty shook his head. "I don't know it. It seems to be +connected with Patty's money."</p> + +<p>"I have been afraid of it, but it has been impossible to get hold of +anything definite," replied Sally gravely. "Even you aren't telling me +anything definite, although I believe you would if you knew it."</p> + +<p>He nodded. "You may be sure I would, Sally."</p> + +<p>"It is really curious how hard it is for people to find out what +concerns them most nearly," she continued. "Everybody is most +considerate of one's feelings." She gave another hard little laugh. +"I've not much doubt that almost everybody in town, excepting +Charlie's relatives and near friends,—if he has any,—has known of +this for a long time. It would have been the part of kindness to tell +me."</p> + +<p>"If it had been more than mere rumor," Doctor Beatty agreed, "it would +have been. I understand," he went on with a quiet smile, "that that +was Mrs. Upjohn's idea in telling Patty. She considered the rumor +verified. Her motive seems to have been good, but the method adopted +was bad; very bad. It's difficult, at best."</p> + +<p>Sally was silent again for some time. "Poor Patty!" she murmured. +"It's hard on her. If she has lost money in that way I must pay her +back."</p> + +<p>Doctor Beatty made no reply. Sally had not said it to him.</p> + +<p>"I believe," she said, turning to him, "that I know how I can find out +all about it—from a trustworthy source," she added, smiling gravely, +"as Miss Lambkin would put it."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[334]</a></span>The doctor muttered impatiently under his breath. Letty Lambkin! But +he had done his errand, for which service Sally thanked him again.</p> + +<p>Doctor Beatty had been gone but a few minutes when Horry Carling came +in. He nodded pleasantly to Sally and was taking off his overcoat.</p> + +<p>"Horry," said Sally suddenly, "what has Charlie been doing?"</p> + +<p>Horry stopped, his coat hanging by the arms and his mouth open, and +looked at her. He was very much startled.</p> + +<p>"Wh—wh—what?" he asked at last.</p> + +<p>"I asked you what Charlie has been doing. What mischief has he been up +to? I am pretty sure he has been misbehaving himself since he has been +in college. How? Has he been in bad company?"</p> + +<p>"W—w—well, y—y—yes," Horry stammered, getting rather red, "I +th—th—think h—he h—h—has."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean women, Horry?"</p> + +<p>Horry's face went furiously red at that question. "N—n—n—no,"—he +was in such a hurry to say it that he was longer than usual about +it,—"n—n—n—noth—th—thing of th—th—that k—k—kind, +th—th—that I kn—n—now of. G—g—g—gam—m—"</p> + +<p>"Gambling, Horry?" Sally asked the question calmly, as if she merely +wanted to know. She did want to know, very much, but not merely. +Knowing was the first step.</p> + +<p>"Y—y—yes," Horry answered. He seemed very much relieved. "H—h—he +has g—g—gam—m—mbled almost ev—v—ver s—s—since h—he's +b—b—been th—th—there," he added. And he went on in as much haste +as he could manage, which was not so very much. Neither he nor Harry +had been in Charlie's confidence. Most of the fellows didn't care a +rap, of course, and didn't pay attention; but—but Harry and he had +cared and—and—they had—and Horry got very red again and stopped in +confusion.</p> + +<p>Sally smiled upon him. "Thank you for caring, Horry," <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[335]</a></span>she said +gently. "Was that what you seemed to have on your mind all last +summer? I thought you wanted to tell me something."</p> + +<p>He nodded.</p> + +<p>"I wonder why you didn't. I should have been grateful."</p> + +<p>"C—c—couldn't b—bear to. We d—d—did t—tell D—D—Dick. +C—c—came d—d—down on p—p—purpose. J—j—just b—bef—f—fore he +g—g—got m—married. I s—s—s'pose he f—f—forg—got a—ab—b—bout +it."</p> + +<p>"He must have," sighed Sally. "It isn't like Dick. Now, if you will +tell me all you know, I will promise not to forget about it."</p> + +<p>Accordingly, Horry unburdened his soul of the whole story, so far as +he knew it, and Sally listened in silence, only nodding now and then. +What was there to be said? Horry was grateful for her listening and +for her silence and he stuttered less as he went on.</p> + +<p>"There!" he concluded. "N—now you kn—n—now all I d—do. I'm +p—p—pumped dry, Sally, and I'm g—glad to g—g—get it off my +m—mind."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said she; and she relapsed into silence and fell to +looking out again.</p> + +<p>Horry sat still, waiting for her to say something more; but she did +not and he got up, at last.</p> + +<p>"If y—you h—have n—noth—th—thing more t—to ask me, S—Sally—"</p> + +<p>Sally turned toward him quickly. "Horry," she said, interrupting him, +"do you know where Charlie goes—to gamble?" It was an effort for her +to say it.</p> + +<p>"Y—yes," he replied, blushing furiously again, but not avoiding her +eyes. "I've b—b—been th—there."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Horry! And aren't you ashamed?"</p> + +<p>"N—n—not es—s—specially. O—only w—w—went once, t—to l—l—look +on, you know. Th—thought I'd l—like to s—see the p—p—place once. +I didn't p—play." Horry shook his head. "I h—haven't g—g—got the +b—bug. Kn—n—new I w—was safe."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[336]</a></span>Sally seemed to be puzzled. "The bug? Do you mean—"</p> + +<p>"The f—f—fever, Sally," he answered, laughing at her bewilderment; +"the sickness—disease of ga—ga—gambling. It's j—j—just as much a +dis—s—ease as the small-pox. Or c—con—sumption. Th—that's +b—b—better, bec—c—cause it lasts l—l—onger and it g—gets +w—w—worse and w—worse."</p> + +<p>Sally sighed. "I suppose it is like that. It must be." She looked at +him thoughtfully for so long a time that Horry began to get red once +more and to fidget on his chair. "There must be a cure for it if we +could only find it," she murmured. "Horry," she said suddenly, "do you +suppose Harry would be willing to keep track of Charlie's +movements—without Charlie's knowing, I mean? For a while?"</p> + +<p>"Kn—n—now he w—would."</p> + +<p>"And would he telegraph me when Charlie goes into that place +again—and just as soon as he can find out? I ought to know as early +in the evening as possible—by six or seven o'clock."</p> + +<p>"H—he w—will if he c—c—can f—f—find out in t—t—time. +W—w—wouldn't always b—be s—so easy. I'll t—take c—care of that, +Sally."</p> + +<p>"Thank you. I shall be very grateful to you both."</p> + +<p>Sally went out to Doctor Sanderson's the next afternoon. Fox saw her +coming and went to meet her.</p> + +<p>"How is Patty, Fox?" she asked. She jumped lightly out of the carriage +and stood beside him.</p> + +<p>He seemed distinctly disappointed at the question. "So that is what +you came for," he replied. "I hoped it might have had something to do +with me." He sighed. "Patty's all right, I think. Are you going up to +see her?"</p> + +<p>Sally shook her head. "I came to see you, Fox. I want to ask your +advice."</p> + +<p>"That changes the face of nature," he returned cheerfully. "Will you +come into the office—or anywhere else that you like."</p> + +<p>They went into Fox's office and he got her settled in a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[337]</a></span>chair. +"That's the most generally comfortable chair. It's my consultation +chair. I want my patients to be as comfortable as possible before they +begin."</p> + +<p>Sally laughed a little. "Now, you sit down and put on your +professional expression."</p> + +<p>"It is not difficult to look sympathetic with you, in advance, Sally."</p> + +<p>"It is really a serious matter." She was silent for a moment. "Fox," +she said then abruptly, "Charlie has been gambling."</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"You aren't surprised?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"And he has used Patty's money, I don't doubt."</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"<i>Fox!</i>" she cried impatiently. "Did you know all this before? If you +did, I think you might have told me."</p> + +<p>"No," he replied gently, "I did not know it. I only suspected it. You +had as much reason to suspect it as I had."</p> + +<p>Sally shook her head. "I didn't know all the circumstances—about +Patty's money, for instance. I'm afraid she gave it to him. I don't +know how much."</p> + +<p>"Neither do I."</p> + +<p>"I must find out and pay her." She was silent again, leaning her chin +on her hand and gazing at Fox. "How can I find out, Fox?"</p> + +<p>"I hardly know, Sally." He was silent, in his turn. "It's no use to +ask her, I suppose. You might ask Dick how much was—er—unaccounted +for."</p> + +<p>"I might." She nodded with satisfaction. "I will. I shall pay it back. +And I must stop Charlie's gambling. I've got to. I've thought and +thought—for a whole day." She laughed shortly. "I'm no nearer than I +was in half an hour. Oh, Fox, tell me how."</p> + +<p>He was looking at her with a great pity in his eyes. He should have +known better. Sally did not like to be pitied. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[338]</a></span>"It's a problem, +Sally. I'm afraid you may not be able to stop it altogether—or +permanently."</p> + +<p>"I thought it might do if—but, perhaps I'd better not tell anybody +about it until it's done."</p> + +<p>"I commend that idea, in general," Fox replied, smiling, "although a +person should be perfectly frank with her lawyer and her physician. If +I can be of any assistance to you, please remember that nothing would +please me better. Those places are—wouldn't be easy for you to get +into. And, Sally, I should hate to think of your trying it. Can't I do +it?"</p> + +<p>Sally smiled at him in a way that he liked very much. "I have no idea +of trying to get in. And, Fox, how much do you know of those places, +as you call them?"</p> + +<p>"Not much, but I think I could probably get in."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Fox. There is one thing that you can do and that is to +explain to me why Charlie does it. Or, I suppose I know why he does, +but explain this if you can. Why haven't I the same desire? I am my +father's daughter. Why shouldn't I want to gamble, too, instead of the +very idea of it filling me with disgust?"</p> + +<p>He sat for some time with a half smile on his lips, gazing at Sally +and saying nothing. Sally looked up and caught his eye and looked away +again.</p> + +<p>"Please tell me, Fox," she said.</p> + +<p>"A question of heredity, Sally! Heredity is a subject which I know +very little about. Nobody really knows much about it, for that matter. +A few experiments with peas and guinea-pigs, and, on the other hand, a +great deal of theorizing—which means a man's ideas of what ought to +happen, made to fit; or rather, the cases chosen to fit the ideas. And +neither helps us much when we come to apply them to such a case as +Charlie's. But do you really want me to tell you what I think? I'm no +authority and the whole thing is a matter of guesswork. You might +guess as well as I—or better."</p> + +<p>She nodded. "I should like, very much, to know."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[339]</a></span>"Ah, so should I," he said. "If I only <i>knew</i>! I don't. But I will do +my best. Well, then, your father had rather a strong character—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Fox!" she protested.</p> + +<p>"He did," he insisted. "Even you had to give in to him sometimes, and +you are the only one in your family who ever stood up against him—who +ever could have. He was lacking in the sense of right, and he had +depraved tastes, perhaps, but his tastes grew by indulgence. Your +mother—forgive me, Sally—has not as strong a character, in a way, but +her sense of right is strong. Perhaps her traditions are as strong." +There were some things which Fox did not know. If he had known all that +had passed in Mrs. Ladue's heart he might not have spoken so +confidently. "You have your mother's tastes,—irreproachable,—her +sense of right and your father's strength; a very excellent +combination." He laughed gently. "And both strengthened by your early +experience. A fiery furnace," he murmured, "to consume the dross."</p> + +<p>Sally got red and did not seem pleased. "Go on," she said.</p> + +<p>"Charlie got your father's tastes and your mother's lack of strength. +He seems to have no sense of right. He was most unfortunate. He didn't +get a square deal. But his very weakness gives me hope. He will have +to be watched, for he may break away at any time. There was no leading +your father, even in the way he wanted to go. He had to be under +strong compulsion—driven."</p> + +<p>"Did you ever drive him, Fox?"</p> + +<p>"Once," he answered briefly. "It was no fun."</p> + +<p>"I remember the time." She sighed and rose slowly. "Well—"</p> + +<p>Fox rose also. "Had enough of my preaching, Sally? I don't do it often +and I don't wonder you don't like it."</p> + +<p>She smiled at him gravely and gave him her hand. "I'm greatly obliged +to you, Fox. If you can help me I will ask you to. I promise you +that."</p> + +<p>He held her hand much longer than was at all necessary <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[340]</a></span>and he gazed +down at her with a longing which he could not hide. Not that he tried; +but she was not looking at him.</p> + +<p>"Promise me something else, Sally."</p> + +<p>Sally glanced up at him in surprise at his voice. "Anything that I can +do, of course," she said.</p> + +<p>The look in his eyes was very tender—and pitying, Sally thought. +"Marry me, Sally. Promise me that."</p> + +<p>It was sudden and unexpected, to be sure, but was there any reason why +the quick tears should have rushed to Sally's eyes and why she should +have looked so reproachfully at him? Ah, Doctor Sanderson, you have +made a mess of it now! Sally withdrew her hand quickly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Fox!" she cried low, her eyes brimming. "How could you? How could +you?"</p> + +<p>He had hurt her somehow. God knew that he had not meant to. "Why, +Sally," he began, "I only wanted—"</p> + +<p>"That's just it," she said quickly; and she could say no more and she +bit her lip and turned and hurried out, leaving Fox utterly bewildered +and gazing after her as if he were paralyzed.</p> + +<p>Sally almost ran down the walk and, as she ran, she gave one sob. "He +was only sorry for me," she said to herself; "he only pitied me, and I +won't be pitied. He only wanted—to help me bear my burdens. Dear +Fox!" she thought, with a revulsion of feeling. "He is always +so—wanting to help me bear my burdens. Dear Fox! But he <i>shall</i> be +true—to her," she added fiercely. "Does he think I will help him to +be untrue? Oh, Fox, dear!"</p> + +<p>And, biting her lip again, cruelly, she got into the waiting +carriage.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXII3" id="CHAPTER_XXII3"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[341]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER XXII<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>Mr. Gilfeather's saloon was not on Avenue C, in spite of the fact that +the Licensing Board tried to confine all institutions of the kind to +that historic boulevard. Mr. Gilfeather's saloon, to use his own +words, was a "high-toned and classy place." In consequence of that +fact and perhaps on the condition implied in the term, Mr. Gilfeather +was permitted to conduct his high-toned and classy place on a street +where he would have no competition. It was a little side street, +hardly more than a court, and there was no church within several +hundred feet and no school within several thousand. The little street +was called Gilfeather's Court, and not by its own name, which I have +forgotten; the narrow sidewalk from Main Street to Mr. Gilfeather's +door was well trodden; and that door was marked by day by a pair of +scraggy and ill-conditioned bay trees and by night by a modest light, +in addition.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gilfeather may have been grieved by the condition of the bay +trees, which were real trees, if trees which have their roots in +shallow tubs can be called real. At all events, he had resolved to add +to the classy appearance of his place, and to that end he had +concluded arrangements with the Everlasting Decorating Company for +certain palms and ferns, duly set in tubs of earth,—the earth was not +important except as it helped in the illusion,—which ferns and palms +were warranted not to be affected by heat, dryness, or the fumes of +alcohol, and to require no care except an occasional dusting. The men +of the Everlasting Decorating Company had just finished the artistic +disposal of these palms and ferns—as ordered—about the little +mahogany tables, giving to each table a spurious air of seclusion, and +had gone away, smiling and happy, having been treated by Mr. +Gilfeather, very properly, to whatever they liked. Mr. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[342]</a></span>Gilfeather +wandered now among his new possessions, changing this palm by a few +inches and that fern by the least fraction of an inch and, altogether, +lost in admiring contemplation.</p> + +<p>What if the glossy green leaves were nothing but varnished green +paper? What if the stems were nothing but fibre with a covering of the +varnished paper here and there? What else were the real stems made of +anyway? And the light in the interior of Mr. Gilfeather's was rather +dim, having to filter in through his small front windows after passing +the tall blank wall of the building opposite, and—well—his +admiration was not undeserved, on the whole. He came back and leaned +against the bar. The bar was by no means the feature of the room. It +was small and modest, but of solid San Domingo mahogany. Mr. +Gilfeather did not want his customers to drink at the bar. He +preferred that they should sit at the tables.</p> + +<p>"How is it, Joe?" he asked, turning to the white-coated barkeeper. +"Pretty good, eh?"</p> + +<p>The silent barkeeper nodded.</p> + +<p>"Switch on the lights over in that corner," Mr. Gilfeather ordered, +"and let's see how she looks." Joe stopped wiping his glasses long +enough to turn to a row of buttons. "That's good. Put 'em all on." Joe +put 'em all on. "That's better. Now," turning to wave his hand upward +over the bar, "light her up."</p> + +<p>At his command there appeared on the wall over the bar, a large +painting of a lady clad chiefly in a leopard skin and luxuriant golden +hair and a charming smile. The lady was made visible by electric +lights, screened and carefully disposed, and seemed to diffuse her +presence impartially over the room. Unfortunately, there was nobody to +admire but Mr. Gilfeather and Joe, the barkeeper, and there is some +doubt about Joe's admiration; but she did not seem to mind and she +continued to smile. As they looked, the outer door opened silently and +closed again. Mr. Gilfeather and Joe, warned by the sudden draught, +turned.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[343]</a></span>"Hello, Ev," said Mr. Gilfeather. "What do you think of it?" He waved +his hand inclusively. "Just got 'em."</p> + +<p>Everett inspected the palms and ferns solemnly. "Very pretty. Very +good. It seems to be good, strong paper and well varnished. I don't +see any imitation rubber plants. Where are your rubber plants?"</p> + +<p>"Eh?" asked Mr. Gilfeather, puzzled. "Don't you like it? They could +have furnished rubber plants, I s'pose. Think I ought to have 'em?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing of the kind is complete without rubber plants," Everett +replied seriously.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gilfeather looked at him doubtfully. "Don't you like 'em, Ev?" he +asked. It was almost a challenge. Mr. Gilfeather was nettled and +inclined to be hostile. If Everett was making fun of him—well, he had +better look out.</p> + +<p>"It's hardly up to your standard, Tom," he answered. He indicated the +lady in the leopard skin—and in her own—who still smiled sweetly +down at them. "After I have gone to the trouble of selecting paintings +for you, it—er—would be natural to expect that you would consult me +before adding a lot of cheap paper flowers to your decorations. I +should have been happy to advise you."</p> + +<p>"Nothing cheap about 'em," growled Mr. Gilfeather. "Had to have +something in here."</p> + +<p>"What's the matter with real palms and ferns?"</p> + +<p>"What would they cost, I should like to know? And how would I keep 'em +looking decent? Look at them bay trees out there."</p> + +<p>"Those bay trees do look a little dejected," Everett agreed, smiling. +"I should employ a good gardener to care for them and for your real +palms and ferns. Our gardener, I am sure, could—"</p> + +<p>"I don't s'pose your gardener'd do it for me now, would he?"</p> + +<p>Everett smiled again. "Hardly. But he's not the only one in town. It +might cost more, Tom, but it would pay, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[344]</a></span>believe me. Your bar, now, is +the real thing and in good taste. You ought to have things in +keeping."</p> + +<p>Mr. Gilfeather emitted a growl and looked almost as dejected as his +bay trees. Everett laughed and moved toward a door beside the bar.</p> + +<p>"Anybody up there yet, Tom?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gilfeather shook his head. "I'll send 'em up." Everett opened the +door and they heard his steps going up the stairs. "Hell!" said Mr. +Gilfeather.</p> + +<p>Joe smiled sympathetically, but said nothing.</p> + +<p>It was getting towards noon and customers began to straggle in singly +or by twos and threes. Certain of these customers were warned by Mr. +Gilfeather's thumb, pointing directly upward, and vanished. The others +had chosen their favorite tables and had been waited upon by two +white-aproned and silent youths, who had appeared mysteriously from +nowhere. The room gradually filled and gradually emptied again, but +there was no sign of Everett and his friends. Mr. Gilfeather went to +his dinner and came back a little after two o'clock. The high-toned +and classy place showed few customers present. It was a slack time. +Two men, at a table behind a mammoth paper fern, were drinking whiskey +and water and talking earnestly; another, hidden by a friendly palm, +was consuming, in a leisurely manner, a hot Tom and Jerry; another, +tilting his chair back in the far corner, read the early afternoon +paper and sipped his ale; and one of our white-aproned friends +vanished through the door beside the bar with a tray containing five +different mixtures of the most modern varieties, of which I do not +know the names. Mr. Gilfeather looked about on his despised +decorations and sighed; and the outer door opened again and admitted +Miss Sally Ladue.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gilfeather half turned, in response to a smothered exclamation +from Joe, turned again, and cast a startled glance up at the smiling +lady over the bar.</p> + +<p>"Switch 'em off, Joe, quick!" and Joe switched 'em off, leaving the +lady with her leopard skin in murky darkness, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[345]</a></span>which, under the +circumstances, was the best place for her. But he had not been quick +enough.</p> + +<p>Sally's color was rather high as she stood just inside the door. +Nothing but palms and ferns—very lifelike—met her eyes; nothing, +that is, except a very chaste bar of San Domingo mahogany and the +persons of Joe and Mr. Gilfeather. The lady in the leopard skin no +longer met her eyes, for that lady had been plunged in gloom, as we +are aware. Sally, too, was aware of it. Mr. Gilfeather had a guilty +consciousness of it as he advanced.</p> + +<p>"Good afternoon, Miss Ladue," he said, somewhat apprehensively. "I +hope nothing is going wrong with my daughter?"</p> + +<p>"No, Mr. Gilfeather," replied Sally, hastening to reassure him. "She +is doing very well, and I expect that she will graduate well up in her +class."</p> + +<p>Mr. Gilfeather was evidently relieved to hear it.</p> + +<p>"I came to consult you," continued Sally; "to ask your advice." She +looked about her. The room was very quiet, much quieter than her own +room at school, for the two men drinking whiskey and water had stopped +their talking, upon Sally's entrance. It had been no more than a low +hum of voices, at most, and the man with his Tom and Jerry made no +more noise than did the man sipping his ale and reading his paper. +Sally thought that she would like to have Patty glance in there for a +minute.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Mr. Gilfeather slowly, "perhaps I can find a place where +we can talk without interruption. Will you—"</p> + +<p>"Why can't we sit down behind some of these lovely palms?" asked Sally +hastily.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gilfeather looked at her quickly. He was sensitive on the subject +of palms and ferns—everlasting ones, furnished by the Everlasting +Decorating Company. But Sally seemed unconscious. His suspicions were +unfounded. He nodded and led the way, and Sally followed, penetrating +the seclusion of three of the customers, to a table in another corner. +Sally sat down and Mr. Gilfeather sat opposite.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[346]</a></span>He hesitated. "I suppose you wouldn't do me the honor to take +something with me, now?" he asked. Sally smiled and shook her head. "A +glass of lemonade or a cup of tea? I can have tea in a minute—good +tea, too, Miss Ladue."</p> + +<p>"Why, thank you, Mr. Gilfeather. I can't see any reason why I +shouldn't take a cup of tea with you. I should like it very much."</p> + +<p>He leaned back, crooked his finger at a white-aproned youth, and gave +his order. One would not imagine, from any sign that the youth gave, +that it was not quite the usual order. As Mr. Gilfeather had promised, +in less than a minute it was on the table: tea and sugar and sliced +lemon and cream.</p> + +<p>"We have a good many orders for tea," remarked Mr. Gilfeather, in +answer to Sally's look of surprise. "I try to have the best of every +kind."</p> + +<p>Sally helped herself to a lump of sugar and a slice of lemon. "I must +confess that I didn't suppose you ever had an order for tea."</p> + +<p>"Yes," he replied thoughtfully. "But we don't often have customers +like you, Miss Ladue. It is an honor which I appreciate."</p> + +<p>"But," Sally interposed, "you don't know, yet, what my errand is."</p> + +<p>"It don't make no difference what your errand is," said Mr. +Gilfeather; "your visit honors me. Whatever you ask my advice about, +I'll give you my best and thank you for coming to me."</p> + +<p>Sally looked at him with a smile in her eyes. "What I wanted to see +you about, Mr. Gilfeather, was gambling. Do—"</p> + +<p>"What?" asked the astonished Mr. Gilfeather, with a penetrating look +at Sally. "You ain't going to—"</p> + +<p>Sally laughed outright, attracting to herself the attention of the two +whiskey-and-waters. Tom and Jerry was consumed and had just gone out.</p> + +<p>"No," she said merrily, "I'm not going to. I only meant <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[347]</a></span>that I wanted +to see—to know whether you knew about it."</p> + +<p>"Whether I knew about it!" exclaimed Mr. Gilfeather, more puzzled than +ever. He glanced up fearfully as a slight noise came down to them from +above. "I never play, if you mean that. Of course, I know something +about it. Any man in my business can't help knowing something about +it."</p> + +<p>"Well," Sally resumed, "I wonder whether it would be possible for—for +me, for instance, to get in; to see the inside of a place where it is +going on. I don't know anything about it and I didn't know anybody to +ask but you."</p> + +<p>Mr. Gilfeather cast another apprehensive glance at the ceiling. Then +he looked down again and gazed thoughtfully at Sally out of half-shut +eyes.</p> + +<p>"I should think," he observed slowly, "that it would be difficult; +very difficult, indeed. I should say that it might be impossible. What +particular place did you have in mind? That is, if it's a proper +question."</p> + +<p>"That's just the trouble," Sally replied, frowning. "I don't know, +although I can find out. I didn't think of that. It's a place where +college boys go, sometimes," she added, flushing slowly.</p> + +<p>"In Boston, eh?" Mr. Gilfeather's brow cleared and his eyes opened +again. The color in Sally's face had not escaped him. "It's my advice, +Miss Ladue, that you give it up. I don't know anything about them +Boston places—I would say those places—or I'd offer to go for you. +Perhaps I can guess—"</p> + +<p>"It's my brother," said Sally simply.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gilfeather nodded. "I'd heard it or I shouldn't have spoken of +it," he said gently. "I'm very sorry, Miss Ladue. Nobody else shall +hear of it from me."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid that will make very little difference," she remarked, "but +I thank you."</p> + +<p>Mr. Gilfeather was silent for some moments while Sally sipped her +tea.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[348]</a></span>"Haven't you got any gentleman friend," he asked at last, "who would +do your errand for you?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know who would be the most likely to—to know the way about," +she returned. "I can't very well ask for bids." She smiled quickly. +"If I knew the best person to ask I would ask him."</p> + +<p>"That you would," Mr. Gilfeather murmured admiringly. "You ain't +afraid. Do you want me to suggest?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I hoped you would be willing to."</p> + +<p>"Well, how would Everett Morton do? I guess he knows his way about. I +always understood that he did." Mr. Gilfeather smiled furtively. The +matter of the palms rankled.</p> + +<p>Sally looked reflective. "If he is the best man to do it I'll ask +him." She sighed. She felt a strange repugnance to asking him—for +that service. She had finished her tea and Mr. Gilfeather had finished +his. "Well," she said, rising slowly, "I thank you for your advice, +Mr. Gilfeather,—and for your tea," she added, "which I have enjoyed."</p> + +<p>"The honor is mine," returned Mr. Gilfeather gallantly.</p> + +<p>Sally smiled and bowed and was on her way to the door. "Miss Ladue," +called Mr. Gilfeather. She stopped and turned. "I wish you would be +kind enough to favor me with a bit of advice, too."</p> + +<p>"Gladly," said Sally. "What about?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Gilfeather came close and spoke low. "It's these palms and ferns. +I got 'em this morning. Might I ask your opinion of 'em?"</p> + +<p>"Surely, they're very nice and attractive," said Sally doubtfully.</p> + +<p>He remarked the doubt. "You don't really think that. Now, do you? +Wouldn't real ones be more—more high-toned, as you might say? I was +advised that—paper flowers, he called 'em—weren't in keeping. Would +you advise me to take 'em out and put in real ones?"</p> + +<p>"Oh," Sally answered quickly, "I can't advise you about that. Real +ones would be more expensive to keep in order, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[349]</a></span>but they would be +better. Don't you think so yourself?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Gilfeather sighed. "These'll have to come out," he said sadly. +"They'll have to come out, I guess. It's hard luck that I didn't think +of asking before I got 'em. But I'm much obliged to you, Miss Ladue."</p> + +<p>Sally nodded again and went out. The door had hardly shut behind her +when the man who had been sipping his ale and reading his paper +emerged from his corner hastily and put out after her. It was Eugene +Spencer.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXIII3" id="CHAPTER_XXIII3"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[350]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER XXIII<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>It was almost time for the theatres to be out. Indeed, the first few +men were coming out of one, hurriedly putting on their coats as they +came. As the doors swung open the beginnings of the subdued roar of a +slowly moving crowd came out. A man and a girl who were walking +briskly past heard it.</p> + +<p>"Hurry, Jane!" exclaimed the girl anxiously. "I didn't know it was so +late."</p> + +<p>Jane muttered something about crowds, but it was nothing very +articulate. To tell the truth, Jane was nervous and he did not know +just what he was saying. Neither did Sally. She did not listen, for +that matter, for she was wholly occupied with her errand. They +quickened their pace until they were almost running, and the noise was +gradually left behind. Neither of them spoke; and when they had turned +the first corner they both sighed and the pace slackened to that brisk +walk again.</p> + +<p>Sally had not had to overcome her repugnance to asking Everett, and +Mr. Gilfeather's feeling of triumph was a little premature. When Jane +had overtaken her, a few steps from Mr. Gilfeather's door and had +asked whether he could not help her, she had yielded to her impulse +and had answered that he probably could if he would. And Jane had +confessed, getting a little red,—who would not have got a little red, +having to make such a confession to the girl he was in love with, even +yet?—he had confessed that he was qualified sufficiently for the +expedition, for he had been in number seven on two occasions, on the +first of which he had played. But, he added, he had not lost +much—fortunately for him, perhaps, he had not won—and he had had no +desire to play again, although he had felt some curiosity to see +others do it. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[351]</a></span>It was worth while, for once, to see that side of human +nature. Sally began to tell him why she wanted to go, but he stopped +her.</p> + +<p>"I know, Sally," he said gently. "You don't have to tell me. I am glad +to be of any assistance at all." And Sally had thanked him and had +liked him better at that moment than she ever had before. It was a +pity that Jane could not know that.</p> + +<p>Two days later Harry Carling had telegraphed; and here they were, just +turning the last corner and finding themselves in the Street. I don't +give the name of the street for reasons which must be obvious enough, +but, irrespective of the name, Sally's heart beat a little faster when +they turned into it. Jane's heart would have beat faster if it had not +already accelerated its beat quite as much as it could with safety. He +was finding it in his mouth most of the time and had to swallow +frequently and hard to keep it down where it belonged. As for speaking +calmly and naturally, that was out of the question. That was enough to +account for his prolonged silence. When he did make the attempt his +voice was high and shrill and he hesitated and could not say what he +wanted to.</p> + +<p>It was a quiet street, entirely deserted at that end, and it was lined +with dignified old houses which echoed the sound of their footfalls +until their coming seemed the invasion of an army.</p> + +<p>"Mercy!" Sally cried nervously, under her breath. "What a racket we're +making!" And the sound of her voice reverberated from side to side. +The army had begun to talk. That would never do. "Silence in the +ranks!" thought Sally; and was surprised that her thought was not +echoed, too. Jane began to laugh excitedly, but stopped at once.</p> + +<p>The street was very respectable, anybody would have said; eminently +respectable. It even seemed dignified. There is no doubt that there +had been a time when it had been both respectable and dignified and +had not contented itself with seeming so. The houses had been built at +that time and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[352]</a></span>presented their rather severe brick fronts to the +street, giving an effect that was almost austere. They were absolutely +without ornament, excepting, perhaps, in their inconspicuous but +generous entrances. Altogether, Sally thought the effect was +distinctly pleasing. She would have been glad to live in one of these +houses; for example, in that one with the wide recessed doorway with +the fan over it. It was dark now; dark as a pocket. Not a light showed +at any of the windows, although a dim one—a very dim one—burned over +the door. The people must be all in bed at this seasonable hour, like +good custom-abiding people. There might have been a special curfew at +nine o'clock for this special street.</p> + +<p>"That is the house," whispered Jane, pointing with a hand which was +not very steady to the very house that Sally had been contemplating +with admiration. It was not light enough for Sally to note the shaking +of his hand.</p> + +<p>The announcement was a shock to Sally. "What?" she asked +incredulously. "You don't mean the house with the dim light over the +door—the one with the fan!" Jane nodded assent. "Why," Sally +continued, "there isn't a light in the house, so far as I can see."</p> + +<p>Jane laughed. His laugh echoed strangely and he stopped suddenly. +"There are plenty of lights, just the same. What did you expect? A +general illumination—with a band?"</p> + +<p>"Something more than a dark house," she replied, smiling a little. "It +looks as if they had all gone to bed."</p> + +<p>He shook his head. "They haven't gone to bed." Their pace had +slackened and had become no more than an aimless saunter. Now they +stopped entirely, almost opposite the house.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Sally inquiringly, "what now?"</p> + +<p>Jane breathed a long sigh. "I—I suppose i—it's up to me," he replied +hesitatingly, "to go in." He spoke with very evident regret; then he +laughed shortly.</p> + +<p>"Don't you want to?" asked Sally curiously.</p> + +<p>"No, I don't, Sally," he rejoined decidedly. "I certainly <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[353]</a></span>don't. But +I want to help you, and therefore I do. It would be hard to make you +understand, perhaps, and—"</p> + +<p>"I think I understand, Eugene," she interrupted gently, "and you +needn't think that I'm not grateful."</p> + +<p>"I don't feel as confident as I ought," he said apologetically, "that +I shall be successful. What if Charlie won't come?"</p> + +<p>"You can tell him," she replied firmly, "that I shall wait here until +he does come. It isn't likely that I shall be put off the street."</p> + +<p>Spencer did not feel so sure of that as he would have liked to feel, +but he did not say so to Sally. "That brings up another question," he +said. "Where shall you wait? And what will you do—in case I am longer +than you expect? I confess that I am uneasy about you—waiting around +the streets—alone."</p> + +<p>"You needn't be," she returned. "Of course," she admitted, "it won't +be pleasant. I don't expect it to be. But I shall be all right, I'm +sure."</p> + +<p>He sighed once more and looked at her. "I wish I felt as sure of it as +you do. But I'll go in—or try to." He looked the street up and down. +"You'd better get in the shadow, somewhere; well in the shadow. Their +doorman has sharp eyes. That's what he's there for," he added in +response to her questioning look. "Perhaps you'd better not be within +view when I go in. We'll walk back a bit and I'll leave you there."</p> + +<p>She assented and they walked back until they were out of sight from +the door with the dim light burning over it. Then Spencer left her and +walked rapidly toward the house. He looked back two or three times. +She was standing just where he had left her: close beside a woebegone +tree with an iron tree-guard around it. It was a forgotten relic of +other days. Her motionless figure could hardly be distinguished from +the tree as she leaned against the guard. He opened the outer door of +the vestibule. A second dim light was burning here, just enabling him +to see the push-button. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[354]</a></span>With a heart palpitating somewhat and with +that horrible, gone feeling in the region of his diaphragm, he rang +the bell. The outer door closed noiselessly behind him and two +electric lights flashed out brilliantly before him. The inner door, +which gave entrance to the house, was a massive thing, studded with +iron bolts, like the gate of a castle; and at the level of his face +was a little grated window or door of solid wood within the larger, +iron-studded door. In response to his ring the inner door did not +open, but the little grated window did, framing, behind iron bars, the +impassive face of a gigantic negro, who scrutinized Spencer with the +eye of experience and, having completed his inspection, nodded +solemnly. The little grated window closed and the electric lights went +out suddenly; and the door opened before him and closed again behind +him, leaving everything in readiness for the next comer; and leaving +Sally standing alone beside that woebegone tree without.</p> + +<p>There was nothing unusual about the appearance of the house if we +except the iron-studded door and its guardian. The negro, who was very +large and very black, had resumed his seat upon a stool by the door. +He glanced at Eugene without interest and immediately looked away +again and seemed to resume his thoughts about nothing at all. Eugene +glanced hastily about. The house might have served as a type of the +modest dwellings of the older school. The doors from the lower hall +were all shut and the rooms to which they led were empty, so far as he +knew, or were used as storerooms, perhaps. Everything was very quiet +and he and the gigantic negro might have been the only occupants of +the house. Before him was the staircase and he roused himself and +mounted to the floor above, walked a few steps along a hall exactly +similar to the first, parted the heavy double hangings over a doorway, +and entered.</p> + +<p>He found himself in the front room of two which were connected by +folding doors, which were now rolled back. The room in the rear was +but dimly lighted, as no one seemed to be interested in the roulette +table which stood there, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[355]</a></span>although several men stood about the +sideboard or were coming or going. The top of that sideboard held a +large variety of bottles and anybody present was at liberty to help +himself to whatever he preferred; but, although there was a good deal +of drinking, there was no drunkenness. Drinking to excess was not +conducive to success in play; and the men, most of them, seemed to be +regular patrons of the place. Eugene's gaze wandered back toward the +front of the house.</p> + +<p>To his right, as he entered, was the centre of interest. Indeed, it +seemed to be the only point of interest. The windows had heavy double +hangings before them, which accounted for Sally's impression of the +house. Directly before these windows and taking up almost the whole +width of the room stood a large table. About this table were seated a +dozen men or more, old, middle-aged, and young, every one of them so +intent on the play that they noticed nothing else. About the seated +men, in turn, were other men, two or three deep, equally intent, +standing and carefully noting upon large cards which they held every +card that the dealer exposed from the box before him. I regret that I +am unable to explain more fully the mysteries of this system of +scoring. In some way, which I do not understand, this method of +keeping score was supposed to give some clue to the way in which the +cards were running on that particular night and to aid each scorer in +the development of his "system," which, as the merest tyro knows, will +inevitably break the bank sooner or later;—usually later. The house +supplied the score cards. They found the method a very satisfactory +one.</p> + +<p>By this time Eugene's heart had almost ceased its palpitation and he +could look about with some approach to calmness at the group around +the table. Curiously, he scanned the faces of the players. At the turn +of the table, to the right of the dealer, sat an elderly man, perhaps +nearing sixty, with a singularly peaceful countenance. He won or lost +with the same indifference, only putting up a hand, now and then, to +stroke his white mustache and glancing, sympathetically, Spencer +thought, at the only really young men <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[356]</a></span>playing. There were two of them +who were hardly more than boys, and this man seemed to be more +interested in their play than in his own. At the dealer's left sat a +man who might be anywhere from thirty-five to fifty, with a +clean-shaven and handsome clean cut face. He looked as distinguished +in his way as the elderly man of the white mustache and the peaceful +countenance did in his. He smiled as quietly when he lost as when he +won. Both men were very attractive and not the type of man you would +expect to find in such a place. The other men there were not +attractive. They were of no particular age and of no distinction +whatever; the type of man that you pass on the street a hundred times +a day without a second glance—if you have given the first. There was +a perennial frown upon their foreheads and their lips were tightly +closed and they were intent on nothing but their play. Altogether, the +less said about those men, the better.</p> + +<p>The first of the two young men mentioned was sitting at the turn of +the table diagonally opposite the elderly man and nearest Eugene, so +that his face was not visible. But his shoulders were expressive and +he was beginning to fidget in his chair; and when, once or twice, he +half turned his head Eugene could see the growing expression of +disgust upon his face. As the young fellow looked more and more +disgusted, the elderly man smiled the more and stroked his white +mustache and gazed at him, to the neglect of his cards, and once in a +while he glanced at the other young fellow.</p> + +<p>That other young fellow, as we know, was Charlie Ladue. He sat +directly opposite the dealer. His face was flushed with the excitement +of play, to which he was giving all his attention. Eugene could not +see his eyes, which never wandered from the straight line in front of +him, from his cards to the dealer; but he could imagine the feverish +brightness that shone from them. He wondered how the dealer liked the +constant contemplation of that sight; how it pleased him that he could +not look up without encountering those eyes of Charlie Ladue fixed +upon him.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[357]</a></span>The dealer seemed to like it well enough; he seemed to like it +uncommonly well. Spencer transferred his gaze from Charlie to the +dealer. There was nothing interesting about Charlie—to him, at least; +nothing sad in his present situation except as it concerned Sally. The +dealer was different, and Eugene found himself fascinated in watching +him.</p> + +<p>It was impossible to guess his age. He might have been anywhere from +forty to sixty and must have been a handsome man when he was +young—whenever that was. He was a good-looking man yet, but there was +something sinister about him. His face was deeply lined, but not with +the lines of age or pain or of contentment or good nature. The lines +in a man's face will tell their story of his life to him who can read +them. Insensibly, they tell their story to him who cannot read them. +Eugene could not; but he felt the story and was at once fascinated and +repelled. He could not take his eyes off that dealer's face; and the +longer he looked the more strongly he was impressed with a vague +recollection. It might be only of a dream, or of a dim resemblance to +some one that he knew. He had the curious sense, which comes to all of +us on occasion, of having lived that very moment in some previous +incarnation, perhaps of knowing exactly what was going to happen next. +Not that anything in particular did happen. I would not willingly +raise expectations which must be disappointed.</p> + +<p>The dealer had always seemed to look at Charlie Ladue with interest; +with as much interest as he ever showed in anything—much more, +indeed, than he showed in anything or in anybody else. Charlie himself +had noted that, and although he never spoke,—at least, Charlie had +never heard him utter a word beyond what were absolutely necessary to +his duties,—there was something compelling in his eye which always +met Charlie's look as it was raised slowly from his cards, as if there +were some mysterious bond of fellowship between them. Rarely he had +smiled. But that was a mistake. It always made Charlie wish that he +hadn't. Charlie had not noticed, perhaps, that it was always on the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[358]</a></span>rare occasions when he won that the dealer had ventured upon that +faint smile which was so disagreeable. When he lost, which happened +more frequently,—very much more frequently,—the dealer expressed no +emotion whatever, unless a slight compression of his thin lips could +be called an expression of emotion.</p> + +<p>There was a stir among the persons about the table; among those +sitting and among those standing. The disgusted young fellow got up +quickly and one of the scorers as quickly took the chair he had left. +The boy breathed a deep sigh of relief as he passed close to Eugene.</p> + +<p>"Hell!" he exclaimed under his breath. It was more to himself than to +anybody else, although, catching Eugene's eye, he smiled. "They call +that sport!"</p> + +<p>The elderly man with the white mustache smiled peacefully and got up, +too, and joined the boy.</p> + +<p>"Had enough, Harry?"</p> + +<p>Harry turned a face filled with disgust. "Enough!" he said. "I should +think I had. It will last me all my life." He repressed his feelings +with an effort. "Did you win, Uncle Don?"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I don't know," Uncle Don replied quietly. "I didn't keep +track. Did you?"</p> + +<p>"No, thank God!" he answered fervently. "I lost. And I feel as though +I had nearly lost my self-respect, too. I want a Turkish bath."</p> + +<p>"All right," returned his uncle quickly. "So do I. And I've no doubt +that Frank does." He turned and beckoned to the man who had been +sitting at the dealer's left. He had already risen and was standing +behind his chair, idly watching the readjustment, and he came at once. +"We're going to Ben's, Frank. Harry wants a bath."</p> + +<p>"Good!" said Frank with his ready smile. "Something that will get +right into your soul, eh, Harry? Come on, Don."</p> + +<p>Uncle Don had turned for a last look at the players. "It was a +somewhat dangerous experiment," he remarked, "and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[359]</a></span>one that I should +never dare to try with that other boy there. He ought to be hauled out +of the game by the collar and spanked and sent to bed without his +dinner—to say nothing of baths. Well, we can't meddle. Come on." And +Uncle Don took one of Harry's arms and Frank took the other and they +went out.</p> + +<p>Eugene was reminded of his duty. If he was to haul Charlie out of the +game by the collar he must be quick about it. He wormed his way among +the scorers and touched Charlie on the shoulder. Charlie started and +looked up somewhat fearfully.</p> + +<p>Spencer bent over him. "Come, Charlie," he said.</p> + +<p>If either of them had noticed, they would have seen a faint flicker of +interest in the eyes of the dealer. But they were not looking at the +dealer. Charlie was relieved to see who it was. He had been afraid +that it was some one else—the police, perhaps.</p> + +<p>"Let me alone, Spencer," he replied disdainfully. "If you think that +I'm coming now, you're greatly mistaken. In a couple of hours, +perhaps."</p> + +<p>Eugene bent farther over. "Sally's waiting for you outside." He spoke +very low; it was scarcely more than a whisper. But the dealer must +have heard, for the interest in his eyes was more than a flicker now.</p> + +<p>In Charlie's eyes there was a momentary fear. It was but momentary.</p> + +<p>He laughed nervously. "I hope she won't get tired of waiting." He +shook his head. "I won't come now."</p> + +<p>Eugene bent lower yet. "She told me to tell you that she should wait +until you did."</p> + +<p>The dealer was waiting for them. There was a flash of irritation in +Charlie's eyes and he turned to the table. "Go to the devil!" he said.</p> + +<p>There was a snicker from some of those seated about the table. Eugene +reddened and drew back and the game went on.</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXIV3" id="CHAPTER_XXIV3"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[360]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER XXIV<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>It was a very lonely time that Sally had, standing there, leaning +against the tree-guard and looking up and down the deserted street. +The houses seemed to be all asleep or deserted as well as the street. +She wondered idly what they were used for; then she thought that it +was as well that she did not know, judging from the one of them that +she did know about. What would the builders of those houses think if +they could come back and see the uses to which their dignified old +homes had been put?</p> + +<p>She glanced up and down the street again. Yes, it seemed to be +entirely deserted. She did not see the figure which lurked in the +shadows on the other side. She had said that she would be all right; +that she was not afraid. Well, she was not afraid, but she was getting +just a bit nervous. She wished that Eugene would hurry with Charlie. +She could not stand by that tree any longer anyway. She began to walk +slowly up and down, watching the door out of which she expected Jane +and Charlie to appear at any moment, and she wondered what she should +say to Charlie. She had no set speech prepared. What was there to say +that could possibly do any good? Probably she would say nothing at all +and they would set off in silence, all three, to their hotel. She had +other thoughts, too, but they need not concern us now. We are not +thinking of Fox Sanderson and his silly speeches nor of Henrietta and +her contentment; for she ought to be contented if ever a girl was. +Sally's eyes filled with tears and her thoughts insensibly drifted +away from Charlie and Jane as she paced slowly to and fro. And that +lurking figure across the street was never very far away.</p> + +<p>The sound of a door shutting reverberated after the manner of all +sounds in that street and there were voices. Sally <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[361]</a></span>had turned at the +sound of the door. Somebody was coming out of the house and she +hurried forward and stopped short. The figure on the other side of the +street started forward and stopped short also. There were three men +coming out, and the joyous voices were not Jane's and Charlie's. Their +voices would not be joyous—if they spoke at all. The three men passed +her, arm in arm, and they looked at her curiously as they passed and +the hand of the oldest instinctively went to his hat. Sally saw that +he was an elderly man with a pleasant face and that his mustache was +snow-white. They had got but a few steps beyond when their pace +slackened and this man seemed to hesitate. He looked back at her +doubtfully. Then he sighed and the three resumed their brisk walk.</p> + +<p>"No use," he said. "Can't meddle. I wish I could. No good comes of +it."</p> + +<p>Once more Sally took up her slow walk to and fro. She was glad that +the three men had gone, but she was sorry, too. That elderly man had +seemed kind and sympathetic and a gentleman; and he had come from that +house. But that, Sally, was no recommendation. She knew that he had +done the wise thing; or that he had not done the unwise thing, and +probably he was right and no good came of meddling. And the sound of +their steps died away as they turned a corner. Again Sally had the +street to herself; Sally and the man lurking in the shadows. She found +herself growing more and more oppressed with the sense of loneliness. +If only somebody were there to wait with her! A quiet, out-of-the-way +street, poorly lighted, is not the most exhilarating place for a girl +at half-past eleven at night. If only Fox—</p> + +<p>Somebody else had turned the corner and was coming toward her with a +step that was neither brisk nor loitering; that seemed as if it knew +just where it was going, but was in no unseemly haste to get there. +Sally stopped and looked about for some place in which she might +conceal herself. None offered better than her tree. As the step drew +near she seemed to know it, and she shrank as nearly out of sight <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[362]</a></span>as +she could. She had no invisible cap; she wished she had.</p> + +<p>The step which she knew stopped beside her. "Sally!" said a voice in +unmistakable surprise. "Sally! What in the world are you doing here?"</p> + +<p>Sally smiled as bravely as she could. "Nothing, Everett," she replied +quietly. "Just waiting."</p> + +<p>"Waiting?" he exclaimed. "For whom, may I ask?"</p> + +<p>"For Charlie," she answered as quietly as before. "Jane has gone in to +get him."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Everett coldly, "so Spencer has gone in to get him. To +judge by appearances, he doesn't seem to make a success of it."</p> + +<p>Sally shook her head. There did not seem to be anything else to say. +Spencer didn't seem to be making much of a success of it.</p> + +<p>"How long have you been waiting?"</p> + +<p>"Two or three years," answered Sally, with a nervous laugh.</p> + +<p>"You poor girl!" Everett exclaimed. "I was just going in to see if I +couldn't get Charlie. It is curious how things happen." Sally smiled a +little smile of amusement in spite of her nervousness. It <i>was</i> +curious how things happened, when you came to think of it. "There +isn't any use in your waiting any longer. It can't do any good, and it +may be very unpleasant for you. Better let me take you to your hotel. +Then I will come back. I may have as much success as Spencer, +perhaps." And Everett began a little smile of his own; but, thinking +that Sally might see it, he stopped before the smile was well born.</p> + +<p>Sally shook her head again. "I told Eugene to tell Charlie that I +should wait here until he came out. It isn't pleasant, but I shall +wait."</p> + +<p>"But, Sally," Everett remonstrated, "you don't understand. You—"</p> + +<p>"I do understand," Sally interrupted. "I will take care of myself." +She may not have realized how this would sound <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[363]</a></span>and how it would +exasperate Everett. But perhaps she did realize.</p> + +<p>Everett only shrugged his shoulders and turned away. Sally was an +obstinate piece.</p> + +<p>"If you want to do me a kindness," she continued, "you will help to +get Charlie out as soon as you can."</p> + +<p>"As you like," he returned. "I will certainly do what I can to get +Charlie out. That's what I am here for." Again Sally smiled her +peculiar little smile. She couldn't help it. That Everett should think +she would believe that! "But you had much better let me take you to +your hotel first," he added, persuasively. "I will explain to +Spencer."</p> + +<p>"I will wait."</p> + +<p>Everett was irritated and quite out of patience with her. He shrugged +his shoulders again and started on.</p> + +<p>"You are very good, Everett," Sally called softly. "Thank you, and +good night."</p> + +<p>He made no reply unless a perfunctory touch of his hat and an +impatient mutter could be called a reply; and he was swallowed up by +the doorway and admitted by the doorman with a familiar nod and a grin +which it was as well, he thought, that Sally did not see. She would +not have been surprised if she had seen.</p> + +<p>Everett had hardly disappeared when the lurking figure left its post +in the shadows and advanced toward Sally. She saw it and braced +herself for the encounter. In the matter of encounters that lonely +street was doing pretty well. For an instant she meditated flight, but +instantly decided against it. The man must have known, from her +attitude, what was passing in her mind, for he spoke when he was but +halfway across.</p> + +<p>"Sally," he said gently, "you needn't be frightened. It—"</p> + +<p>Whereupon Sally behaved in a most peculiar and reprehensible manner. +At the sound of the voice she had stiffened; but now she cast herself +at the man and seized his arm with both her hands.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[364]</a></span>"Fox, Fox," she said, with a quiver in her voice, for she was very +near to crying. "I'm glad. You are an old comfort. You don't know how +lonely it was, waiting by myself. I thought I could stand it, but I +don't know whether I could have held out much longer. The street was +getting on my nerves."</p> + +<p>"I know, Sally," he replied. "I was afraid it would. And now what is +the prospect? Is Charlie likely to come soon? And shall we go to your +hotel or wait?"</p> + +<p>"I must wait. But—but, Fox, it would provoke Jane and Charlie, too, +to find you here."</p> + +<p>Fox laughed. "Then I will vanish at the first sign of them. But I +should really like to know how your enterprise comes out. Do you mind +telling me, Sally? And how shall we manage it without telling your +mother? I suppose she doesn't know the purpose of your coming."</p> + +<p>"Not from me, although she may guess. I'll come out, in a day or two, +to call on you, sir. Shall you feel honored?"</p> + +<p>"You know I shall, Sally. But how will you account for your call?"</p> + +<p>"I shall come to collect the rent," returned Sally promptly, "if any +excuse is necessary. Be sure that you have it ready. And I shall give +you a faithful account of all that has transpired." She had Fox's arm +and she gave it a little squeeze. It was a very little squeeze and +very brief, but it made his heart jump. "It was lucky for me that +you—" And then she stopped short, realizing that Fox would not have +happened to be in that street, leading to nowhere, at that time.</p> + +<p>"Don't you know," he asked simply, with a laugh of content, "that I +always keep track of you? Did you think that you could come to such a +place as this without my being somewhere about?"</p> + +<p>Sally changed the subject quickly. It was an unspeakable comfort to +her to know—but Fox must not pursue that subject now. Fox had no +intention of pursuing that subject; and they walked slowly to and fro +over what had been Sally's beat, talking of anything or of nothing. +Sally was content; <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[365]</a></span>and again she forgot Charlie and Jane and her +errand, and she became almost gay. Those sombre old houses echoed +quiet laughter, of a kind that they had not heard for goodness knows +how many years, and low voices. Some more men came, singly, or in +groups of two or three, and looked at them with curiosity. Sally +hardly saw them. And the last group passed into the house and up the +stairs and into the room where the table stood before the front +windows and they stopped short at the sound of angry voices.</p> + +<p>The game had stopped, for the moment, and the dealer was leaning back +with his hand upon the pack, waiting. There was a look upon his face +of languid interest under the mask of indifference, as he gazed at the +young fellow opposite, his face flushed now with impotent rage, and at +the man leaning over him. The face above was flushed with anger, too, +but it was not impotent. If Sally had seen it she would have been +reminded of her father. The sight seemed to remind the dealer of +something, but it was impossible to guess whether that something was +pleasant or otherwise. Many things had happened to him which were not +pleasant to think of. Indeed, the pleasant things were very few. He +did not think of his past when he could help it. It was a thing to be +avoided.</p> + +<p>"Come, Charlie," said Everett again, sharply. "You're to get up and +go. We're all waiting."</p> + +<p>Charlie seemed to be divided between his long admiration of +Everett—of what he said and did and was—and his helpless anger. He +wavered.</p> + +<p>"You mean that I have got to leave the game?" he sputtered at last. +"Why have I?" He hesitated a moment, looking from the cards to the +dealer who still had that little look of languid interest upon his +face. In fact, it was almost compelling a smile on the thin lips. +Charlie could not have stood that. He looked away again quickly, but +he did not look at Everett. He could not have stood that, either. +"No," he said, with a sudden accession of courage, "I won't do it. The +game can go on."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[366]</a></span>The dealer did not move a muscle. Everett smiled. "You see," he +answered, "that it will not go on with you in it. I'm right, Charlie?" +he added, glancing up at the dealer; but it was less a question than a +command.</p> + +<p>The dealer nodded. Still Charlie Ladue did not move.</p> + +<p>"Come, Ladue," Everett ordered impatiently. "Don't make them put you +out. Cash in and go along. You know very well why. I promised to start +you and I'm going to. And, let me tell you, I can do it."</p> + +<p>There was nothing else to do. Charlie muttered something and rose +slowly and pushed his chair back violently in a fit of childish anger. +Instantly the chair was taken and the game was going on almost before +he had his back turned. Everett kept close beside him until he had his +coat and hat, and he even went down to the door with him. Eugene was +waiting there, but he said nothing. He was much mortified at his +complete failure and at Everett's complete success. The grinning black +opened the door.</p> + +<p>"Good night, Spencer," said Everett. "And good night, Charlie. If you +take my advice, you'll give it up."</p> + +<p>The door shut behind the two and Everett went upstairs again. He paid +no attention to the game, but walked into the dimly lighted back room +and to the sideboard. He felt out of sorts with himself and with +everybody and everything else. He must be thirsty; and he poured +himself out a glass and stood sipping it and looking absently at the +heavily curtained windows at the rear. There did not happen to be +anybody else at the sideboard.</p> + +<p>He was still sipping with his back toward the front room and the game +when he felt a touch upon his arm. He turned quickly. There stood the +dealer.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Charlie!" he said in some surprise. "Your recess? Do you want +me to apologize for taking that young cub out and making all that +row?"</p> + +<p>The dealer shook his head. "That was right enough. I've been thinking +about him for some—" He stopped short and swallowed—something; +possibly a lump or something <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[367]</a></span>of the kind. But it is not conceivable +that such a man can have the more usual emotions of pity and charity. +For they are the usual emotions, whatever you may say against it. If +Everett had only known it, that was the very trouble with him. He had +not been thirsty, primarily. His thirst was but a physical symptom of +his mental state.</p> + +<p>But I interrupted the dealer. He was speaking again. "I should like to +ask you a question, Mr. Morton," he said.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Charlie?" Everett felt but a passing interest in his +question.</p> + +<p>"I noticed that you called the young man Ladue."</p> + +<p>"Did I? That was very thoughtless of me. I apologize."</p> + +<p>The dealer did not smile, but went on, apparently pursuing his object, +whatever that was. "And the other man spoke of Sally."</p> + +<p>"Indeed! That was even more thoughtless."</p> + +<p>"Charlie Ladue," the dealer continued in an even voice, "and Sally. It +sounds as if Sally should be his sister. Is she?"</p> + +<p>Everett hesitated for a moment. After all, what harm? "Well, yes, she +is his sister. Much disturbed at hearing of his doings. You and I, +Charlie," he said lightly, "know better."</p> + +<p>The dealer smiled faintly. For a wonder his faint smile was not +unpleasant.</p> + +<p>"Can you tell me," he pursued, "where Miss Sally Ladue is to be +found—say, in the morning?"</p> + +<p>Everett hesitated again and glanced at the man suspiciously. This was +a more serious matter.</p> + +<p>"Why do you ask? And, assuming that I know, why should I tell you, +Charlie?" If it had not been that he still smarted under Sally's +treatment of him, he would not have gone as far as that.</p> + +<p>The old dealer with the lined face smiled slowly and with a certain +cunning.</p> + +<p>"Possibly I can answer both questions at once. Conceivably, I can +satisfy you. I am her father."</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXV3" id="CHAPTER_XXV3"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[368]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER XXV<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>Sally and Eugene and Charlie had almost finished breakfast. It was a +silent group; Eugene was quiet, for he had not got over the +mortification at his miserable failure of the night before, and, +besides, the very fact that he was eating breakfast with Sally was +enough to make him quiet. Charlie was sulky and morose and penitent. +There had been very little said, but that little had been to the +point, and Charlie had pleaded <i>nolo contendere</i>, which, in this case, +was equivalent to a plea of guilty; guilty of the offense as charged +and guilty of obtaining money from Patty under false pretenses, +although Sally could not find out how much. He would only say that it +was not so very much; he could not remember exactly how much. And +Sally had promised to give him a reasonable allowance if he would +honestly try to keep within it and would give up his bad habits, which +would be his unfailing ruin if he kept on. It might be necessary to +take him out of college. He was to go home with them and the council +of war would decide about that. Charlie seemed somewhat anxious about +the composition of that council, although he did not seem to care very +much whether he left college or not. As Sally had not decided upon +that point, she did not gratify his curiosity. And Charlie had given +the required promises. He had even promised more than was required of +him, for he agreed to reform permanently. Sally had her doubts about +its being permanent. She had seen too much of the effects of the +"bug," as Horry Carling had called it. But she could not ask more, and +she sighed and expressed herself as satisfied and they went in to +breakfast. That incident was closed.</p> + +<p>Now she was leaning back in her chair, watching the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[369]</a></span>others putting +the finishing touches on a rather substantial breakfast. A call-boy +was speaking to the head waiter; and that august official came with +stately step to Sally's table.</p> + +<p>"A gen'leman to see Miss Ladue," he announced privately in Sally's +ear.</p> + +<p>Sally looked up in surprise. "To see me?" she asked. "Are you sure? +Who is it? Do you know?"</p> + +<p>"He asked was Miss Ladue staying here, but he didn't give no card and +he wouldn't give no name. I could say that you've gone or that we +can't find you," the man suggested, "if you don't care to see him."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," said Sally, with a quick smile. "I'll see him. He may have +come to tell me of a long-lost fortune. But," she added with a puzzled +wonder, "I can't imagine who it can be."</p> + +<p>Eugene got up, pushing aside his coffee. "Let me go, Sally."</p> + +<p>Sally was already up. "Oh, no," she said again. "Thank you, Eugene, +but you and Charlie may as well finish your breakfast in comfort. +There's plenty of time before our train goes and I will join you in a +few minutes. I'm only wondering who in the world it is and what he +wants. Perhaps it's Everett."</p> + +<p>A look of annoyance came into Spencer's eyes at the mention of +Everett. Why couldn't he let them alone? But Sally was rapidly +vanishing in the wake of the head waiter, who delivered her safely to +the call-boy. At the door of a small reception room the boy paused, +parted the hangings, and bowed Sally in.</p> + +<p>As she entered, a man rose from a chair near the window and stood +waiting. Although Sally could not see his face because of the light +behind him, there was something vaguely familiar in his manner of +rising from the chair and in his attitude. It troubled her.</p> + +<p>"You wished to see me?" she asked, wondering why he did not come +forward to meet her.</p> + +<p>"Miss Sallie Ladue?" he asked in return. Sally's hand went <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[370]</a></span>to her +heart involuntarily; her mother's trick, exactly. The man seemed to be +smiling, although Sally could not see that, either. "I want to make +sure. It is sometime since—"</p> + +<p>"Turn around to the light, so that I can see your face," Sally +commanded. Her voice was hard and cold. It may have penetrated his +armor. He turned obediently, giving a short laugh as he did so.</p> + +<p>"My face may be a trifle the worse for wear since you have seen me," +he remarked airily. "A trifle the worse for wear; which yours is not. +Has anybody ever told you, Sally, that you have become a lovely woman? +Or wouldn't you care for that tribute?"</p> + +<p>"We will not discuss my appearance, if you please." Sally's voice was +still hard and cold; like steel. She came around in front of him and +scrutinized his face closely. There could be no possible doubt. "Well, +father?"</p> + +<p>"You don't seem glad to see me, Sally. After an absence of—er—a +hundred years or so, one would think that you might be. But, I repeat, +you don't seem glad to see me."</p> + +<p>"No," said Sally quietly. "I'm not."</p> + +<p>He laughed. His laugh was unpleasant. "Truthful as ever, I see. +Wouldn't it be better to mask the truth a little, when it must be as +disagreeable as it is now? To draw even a thin veil over it, so that +it can be perceived dimly—dimly if unmistakably?"</p> + +<p>Sally shook her head and she did not smile. "I see no object in it. +What is your purpose in seeing me now? I do not doubt that you have a +purpose. What is it?"</p> + +<p>He seemed to find a certain pleasure in tantalizing her. "Aren't you +curious to know how I found out your whereabouts?"</p> + +<p>"I am not interested in that. Tell me your purpose."</p> + +<p>"What other purpose could I have than to see my daughter after so many +years? Is it permitted, my dear Sally, to ask after the health of your +mother?"</p> + +<p>"She is well; as well as can be expected. It is not your fault that +she did not die years ago. She was four years <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[371]</a></span>getting over that +trouble of hers. You laughed at her headaches, you remember. She was +four years in Doctor Galen's sanitarium."</p> + +<p>He waved his hand lightly, as of old. "A little misunderstanding, +Sally, which I greatly regret. But four years of Doctor Galen! How did +you manage to pay him?"</p> + +<p>"That," replied Sally, "cannot possibly be any concern of yours."</p> + +<p>"Ah, true. It is not any concern of mine. But is it not possible to +see your mother? She is still my wife, I presume, and you are still my +daughter."</p> + +<p>"She is still your wife and I am your daughter. But you shall not see +her if I can prevent it."</p> + +<p>"And—I gather from the tenor of your remarks that you would resist +any attempt at—er—reuniting a family long separated by +circumstances."</p> + +<p>Sally smiled disdainfully. "I am of age. As to my mother, I should +resist. No court would compel it."</p> + +<p>"Ah," he said, smiling, "how well you meet my points! You are of age, +and no doubt you are right about the courts. There is no law that will +prohibit my trying, I think. And Charlie is not of age, if my +recollection serves me."</p> + +<p>Before Sally could frame an answer, there was a slight noise in the +hall and Charlie burst in. "I beg your pardon," he said hastily. The +two were standing, and he had not recognized Sally. But an instant's +gaze was enough. "Sally!" he exclaimed. He looked at the man. A wave +of red rushed into his face. "Charlie!" he cried involuntarily. Then +he recovered. "What are you doing here? What do you mean by coming to +see my sister?"</p> + +<p>Sally was inexpressibly distressed. She started to speak. She would +have said something—told him the truth, of course—to save them both; +but a quiet movement of her father's hand stopped her. He seemed to be +waiting patiently for the next stone.</p> + +<p>"Do you know, Sally," Charlie continued, "who this man is? He is the +dealer in number seven. He has no <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[372]</a></span>right—no business to try to see +you. I insist on his leaving at once."</p> + +<p>Sally spoke with surprising gentleness, considering her mode of speech +to her father only a few minutes before. "We have some business, +Charlie," she said. "He will go as soon as that is done. Now, leave +us, please, to finish it, for we have not a great deal of time. It is +all right."</p> + +<p>And Charlie withdrew slowly, with many a glance from one to the other +and many a misgiving as to the business which seemed to be of so +private a nature. They heard his steps retreating down the hall.</p> + +<p>Sally turned her shocked face to her father, "Won't you sit down?" she +asked gently. "I am very sorry; sorrier than I can tell +you—for—everything, but especially for that speech of Charlie's. But +Charlie did not know."</p> + +<p>"And I prefer that he shouldn't," her father replied. He had seated +himself with his face half turned away from the light. "I have many +hard things to bear, Sally, and, strange as it may seem to you, I try +to bear them with patience. I have to, so why make a virtue of +necessity? That speech of Charlie's—made in ignorance—was less hard +for me than your own."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry," Sally said again, "but I meant what I said, most +emphatically. You are not to suppose that I didn't. But I am sorry for +my manner—if it hurt you."</p> + +<p>He smiled faintly. "It was not intended to soothe or to amuse, I take +it," he remarked. And he lapsed into silence, fingering his hat +nervously and turning it around in his hands.</p> + +<p>Sally sat gazing at the lined old face before her a long time without +speaking. As she looked, her eyes softened even more and grew +tender—and those eyes could be wonderfully tender. He bore her gaze +as well as he could, but he was ill at ease. If the truth must be +told, his mood had softened, too, and the very fact embarrassed him. +Perhaps he remembered the days of the little lizard and the coal-trees +and the occasions when the gynesaurus had climbed to the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[373]</a></span>topmost +branch and gazed forth upon a wide prospect of tree-tops and swamps. +It could not have been pleasant to recollect those days. For him, they +were no more and could be never again. He was roused by Sally's low +voice.</p> + +<p>"Oh, father," she said impulsively, "why do you do it? Why can't you +give it up? I could get your lizard for you. Why not return to your +old life? You might do something yet. At least, it would be a comfort +to be respectable."</p> + +<p>He laughed at that. "No doubt it would," he observed, "be a great +comfort to be respectable. And no doubt it would be a great comfort to +you to have a respectable father; reformed; dragged from the depths." +The tears came to Sally's eyes. "Does your programme," he asked then, +nonchalantly, "include—er—reuniting a family long separated by +circumstances? You may remember that I mentioned the matter once +before."</p> + +<p>She shook her head slowly and regretfully. "I'm afraid not. I couldn't +consent to exposing mother to the—" She hesitated and stopped.</p> + +<p>"The dangers incident to such an arrangement?" he suggested. "Pardon +me for supplying what you were considerate enough to omit. Perhaps you +are wise. And Charlie?"</p> + +<p>"And Charlie." She nodded. "You see, yourself, that such a thing could +not be—at any rate, until you have proved that you could do it."</p> + +<p>"I couldn't," he answered promptly. "Don't think that I haven't tried. +I have tried, repeatedly. I hate the life, but I can't give it up. +But," he added, "you need not have been afraid for Charlie."</p> + +<p>"I am very much afraid for Charlie," said Sally simply, "in any case. +He is sick of it now. How long the present mood will last, I do not +know. Could you manage that he is not allowed to play at—at your—"</p> + +<p>He bowed gravely. "That can be arranged, I think."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, father."</p> + +<p>Once more there was silence between them. Finally he made a movement +as if to go. "I was—I wanted—was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[374]</a></span>curious to see how you had come +out, Sally. That was the main reason for my troubling you. If there +were other reasons, they no longer exist. I—"</p> + +<p>"Don't go yet, father," Sally interrupted. "I have more to say."</p> + +<p>He sat down again and waited. She was considering—trying to consider +the problem before her in every aspect. But she could not get the +point of view of her father and Charlie, and she wanted to.</p> + +<p>"Father," she resumed, "what <i>is</i> the attraction? I have been trying +hard to get a sympathetic view of it and I can't. I can't see anything +except what is sordid and repulsive. The life is—is not desirable—"</p> + +<p>"Not very desirable," he broke in, with a horrible, dry laugh.</p> + +<p>"And it can hardly be simply covetousness. If it is, you miss your +mark. What I—"</p> + +<p>"It is not covetousness. I may as well say that it is not a sin of +covetousness," he corrected, "in deference to the generally received +opinion. I have no desire to gloss over and to try to excuse by a form +of words, although I, personally, am not convinced that it is a sin +according to natural law. However, we need not discuss that aspect of +it."</p> + +<p>He waved that view aside with a familiar motion of his hand. How +familiar they were—those little tricks of the hand and of the voice! +They made Sally's eyes fill and a lump come in her throat. She raised +her hand to her forehead and leaned upon it. It half concealed her +eyes. She said nothing. The professor went on in his old lecture-room +manner; a judicial manner.</p> + +<p>"No, it is not a sin of covetousness, but simply a passion to which +any man who is subject to it can't help giving way. It is a passion as +old as humanity—perhaps older. There are no more inveterate gamblers +than the savages. Possibly," he added, smiling, "my little lizard had +it; possibly it goes back to those ancient days that you know about, +Sally. It may be that the saurians had their own games of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[375]</a></span>chance and +their own stakes—and, I may add, their own methods of enforcing +payment. Indeed, their life was one great gamble. For that matter, +life is no more than that now."</p> + +<p>Sally made an inarticulate protest.</p> + +<p>"As for getting the other man's money," the professor continued, +unheeding, "that is merely incidental. We feel better, it's true, when +we win, but that is for another reason. It has nothing to do with the +game—keeping his money. The other man can keep his money—or, as far +as the game is concerned, I would give it back to him—for all the +happiness it brings him or would bring me. The distinction which I +mean to draw is a little subtle, but I flatter myself that you can +appreciate it."</p> + +<p>He looked at her and she nodded. The tears still stood in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Happiness, Sally," he resumed, absently gazing at the wall, "is—but +you probably do not care for my views on the subject of happiness," he +said, interrupting himself and glancing at her with a smile. The smile +was rather pleasant to contemplate; a thing sufficiently +remarkable—for him. "Probably you think I am better qualified to tell +you what it is not than what it is; how to avoid it than how to get +it. I can give advice, but I cannot follow it."</p> + +<p>Sally smiled quickly. "Your views are interesting," she said. She +stirred a little. She did not know how he would take what she was +about to say. "You would—would you feel hurt, father, if I should +offer you an allowance?"</p> + +<p>A quarter of an hour before, he would not have felt hurt or +embarrassed in the least. In fact, that was the very thing he had come +there for. At the moment, it was different. A flush crept into his +face slowly.</p> + +<p>"Why should I feel hurt?" His voice had changed. It had lost that +intimate quality which it had had during the last few minutes, when he +had been on the point of telling Sally about happiness. "It is Uncle +John's money, I suppose? Why should I feel any compunctions about +taking it? <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[376]</a></span>And—er—there are conditions incident to the acceptance +of this—er—this gift, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid there are," she replied; "at least, tacitly understood."</p> + +<p>He considered for a few moments. "I think," he said then, "that it +will conduce to happiness, on the whole, if we are not too tacit about +those conditions. What are they?"</p> + +<p>"I hoped," she answered gently, "that you would not insist on my +repeating them. You must understand, from what I have said, what they +are."</p> + +<p>"I prefer that they should be stated as conditions."</p> + +<p>"Very well." Sally's voice was harder and colder. "As you like. You +are not to take any steps whatever, even to reveal your existence to +my mother and Charlie. Charlie is not to be allowed to play at your +house—not to be allowed to enter it."</p> + +<p>"But, Sally, I may be unable to prevent that," he protested. "The +house is not mine. I am only—only an employé and an underling. I will +do what I can, but there is no use in promising what I can't perform."</p> + +<p>Sally smiled a little. It was something new for him to stick at +promising.</p> + +<p>"Those are the conditions which I must make in self-defense," she +said.</p> + +<p>"May I venture to ask what is offered on the other side?"</p> + +<p>She made a rapid calculation. "The most that I can offer you is seven +hundred a year. I'd like to make it a thousand; but I have mother and +Charlie to take care of, and I must pay Patty what she had let him +have—without my knowledge," she added apologetically. "I agree to +send you sixty dollars a month on those conditions."</p> + +<p>He was leaning back in his chair and spoke in his old manner, lightly.</p> + +<p>"And if the conditions are violated?"</p> + +<p>"The allowance stops," Sally replied promptly.</p> + +<p>"And further?"</p> + +<p>There was a suspicion of moisture again in Sally's eyes. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[377]</a></span>"You make it +unnecessarily hard, father," she said gently. "I shall act further if +you compel me to." She was reminded of the time when she had asked his +permission to go to dancing-school. Her feelings, she found, were much +the same as they had been on that occasion. "I am ready to put it in +writing if you wish."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," said the professor airily. "It is not necessary, Sally. Your +word would be all that anybody could require; anybody who knew you."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," she murmured. It was very low and he gave no sign of +having heard it.</p> + +<p>Again he was silent; then he turned to her. A smile of amusement +curled his lip. "There is, at least, no question of sentiment in all +this, is there, Sally?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know," she murmured more gently than ever. She was not +looking at him, but down at the arm of her chair. "There may be, but I +must not let it interfere with my judgment—in this matter. There is +mother to think of."</p> + +<p>"Ah! I infer that your mother would not welcome an occasion for +reuniting that family which I mentioned."</p> + +<p>It was not a question and Sally said nothing. After a pause, the +professor sighed and spoke again.</p> + +<p>"I accept your munificent offer, Sally. There is nothing else to do."</p> + +<p>It was his way—it had always been his way to put the giver in the +wrong, by a simple turn of words; to make her feel as if it were he +who was conferring the favor. Sally felt somehow guilty and +apologetic.</p> + +<p>"Will you give me your address?" she asked, diffidently—"the address +to which you would like your money sent?"</p> + +<p>He wrote on a slip of paper with an old stub of a pencil which he +pulled from his pocket and handed her the paper. She read it and +looked up at him quickly.</p> + +<p>"Am I to make them out in this name?" she asked. "It is not—"</p> + +<p>"It is not Ladue," he interrupted deliberately, but <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[378]</a></span>showing more +emotion than he had shown hitherto. "Professor Charles Ladue, I would +have you know, Sally, died about ten years ago, in extreme poverty and +distress—of mind as well as of body."</p> + +<p>Sally's tears overflowed and dropped, unheeded. She put out her hand +impulsively, and laid it upon his.</p> + +<p>"Oh, father!" she whispered. "I am sorry."</p> + +<p>"I believe you are," he said. He rose. "Now I will go back to +obscurity. Don't be too sorry for me," he added quickly. "I cultivate +it."</p> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<a name="CHAPTER_XXVI3" id="CHAPTER_XXVI3"></a><hr /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[379]</a></span><br /> + +<h3>CHAPTER XXVI<span class="totoc"><a href="#toc">ToC</a></span></h3> +<br /> + +<p>Mrs. Ladue asked no troublesome questions. Perhaps she thought that +she had no need to; that she knew, as well as if she had been told, +what Charlie had been doing. Sally had been to see about it, of +course, and now it was all right, equally of course. Sally always +remedied wrongs as well as anybody could and made them right again. It +was a great comfort. And Mrs. Ladue sighed happily and smiled.</p> + +<p>Sally thought the smile somewhat ill-timed, but she was glad enough +that her mother felt like smiling. That smile exasperated her a +little. She had just come back and the past twenty-four hours had been +rather crowded. But her mother did not know that. And she was glad +enough that her mother had not asked questions, for, if she had been +asked, she would have lied, if necessary, for the first time in her +life. Her mother did make a remark which, as Sally thought, showed +that she knew. Sally had her hand on the door and was on the point of +going out.</p> + +<p>She turned. "Why, mother!" she exclaimed. "So you knew, all the time, +what the trouble was!" She laughed in derision; at herself, chiefly. +"And I took such pains to keep the truth from you!"</p> + +<p>"I didn't know, Sally. I only guessed. It's what I have been afraid of +for years—the first thing I should have looked for. What else could +you expect, with his—"</p> + +<p>She did not go on. Sally, fresh from that interview with her +father,—it had happened only that morning,—was almost overcome by +the memory of it.</p> + +<p>"Why, Sally, dear!" cried her mother. "I didn't suppose you felt so. +Don't, dear. It's nothing that we can help—the wanting to, I mean. +And I'm sure you have done more than anybody else could."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[380]</a></span>Sally regained her self-control with an effort. "I don't feel so bad +about Charlie. I've done all that I can—now. But it's rather taken it +out of me," she added, with a nervous little laugh.</p> + +<p>"Of course, dear. I wish I were good for anything. I know," she said, +laughing nervously, in her turn, "that I ought to feel troubled. But I +can't, Sally, dear. As long as—" she hesitated and flushed. "I am +rather ashamed to say it, but as long as—as your father hasn't turned +up, I can't be anything but contented and happy. I find that I've had +an absurd feeling—utterly absurd, dear, I know—that he was about to. +It's only since you were on the way that that dread has left me and +I've felt contented—so happy and contented. The change came with +curious suddenness, about the time your train must have left."</p> + +<p>Sally had turned away sharply. "I'm very glad, mother," she replied in +a stifled little voice. "I'm glad you can feel so happy. There's no +need to feel that dread any more, I think. I'm going out now. Don't be +worried if I am late."</p> + +<p>"Going to walk, Sally?" Mrs. Ladue asked diffidently. "You had better +tell me what direction you will take—in case Fox comes in, you know. +He always wants to know your direction if you are at all late."</p> + +<p>"I'm going out to see him," Sally returned. "I promised to tell him +about it."</p> + +<p>If Sally had stopped to think of it at all she might have wondered why +her mother seemed so glad that she was going to Fox's. But her mind +was taken up with thoughts of her father, to the exclusion of +everything and everybody else—but one, and Sally was not aware of the +exception. Fox was the only person she was free to tell about her +father and she was looking forward to it. When she had shared her +knowledge—with somebody—it would be less of a burden. It never +occurred to her that he might not be glad to know. Wasn't he always +glad to know of anything which concerned her—anything at all? And as +Sally thought these thoughts <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[381]</a></span>a vivid blush spread over her face and +her throat. It was a pity that there was nobody to see it.</p> + +<p>Fox met her at the door. There was a questioning smile on his face as +he took her hand. He led the way into his office and Sally sank into +an armchair that stood by the table. Fox drew another chair near and +sat down. Then he took a little slip of paper from his pocket and laid +it by her elbow.</p> + +<p>"The rent," he said.</p> + +<p>Sally laughed, but she let it lie there.</p> + +<p>"Well?" Fox asked.</p> + +<p>"Well!" She found that she had very little to say and that little did +not come readily. "It is nice to get into a chair that is comfortable +without swallowing you whole—as if it would never give you up." She +patted an arm of the chair nervously. "I like these low arms."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Fox, "so do I. And—there is no hurry, Sally. Would you +like to rest there—just sit and be comfortable for a while? You can +have had very little real rest for some time and you must have had +much to tire you. Just exactly as you please. I am entirely at your +service—as I am always," he added, in a low voice. "I can be +attending to my work, and you could begin whenever you were ready, or +I will give my undivided attention now."</p> + +<p>"Have you got work," Sally began hastily, "that—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, there's no hurry about it." And Fox smiled quietly. "But there's +enough to do. Routine, mostly."</p> + +<p>"Could you do it with me here? Wouldn't you—"</p> + +<p>"Couldn't I!" Fox smiled again. "It adds a great deal to my peace of +mind to have you in the same room with me, even when you aren't saying +anything. And peace of mind, Sally, is—"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know," said Sally, interrupting. "Well, let's try it. You go +to your desk and work and I'll sit here and rest. And when the spirit +moves me I'll speak."</p> + +<p>So Fox went to his desk and Sally watched him as he became more and +more absorbed; and, as she watched, there <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[382]</a></span>came a light into her eyes +which had not been there before. Still she said nothing; only leaned +her head back against the chair and watched. Once he looked back at +her and smiled. He almost caught that light—that look in her eyes, +but Sally managed to quench it in time.</p> + +<p>"Resting, Sally?" he asked.</p> + +<p>She nodded and he turned back to his desk. The work did not seem +difficult. Sally wondered, and in her wonder she forgot, for the +moment.</p> + +<p>"Couldn't I do that, Fox?"</p> + +<p>"To be sure you could," he answered quickly, "if you only would. It +isn't half as difficult as what you do at your office."</p> + +<p>He had not looked around. Sally was glad of that, for she was +blushing—at her own temerity, she told herself. Again there was +silence in the room, except for the rustling of papers.</p> + +<p>"Fox," said Sally, after five minutes of this, "what would you do with +Charlie now? Would you send him back to college?"</p> + +<p>He put his papers down and turned. "Does the spirit move you to talk +now?"</p> + +<p>Again she nodded. "I think so. The little rest has done me good. And I +should like to have your advice."</p> + +<p>He came to the chair near hers. "What happened after I left you last +night?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing in particular," she answered. "I don't remember that we said +anything of consequence. I had a talk with Charlie, early this +morning." She gave him the substance of it; if it could be said to +have any substance. "This is the council of war," she added, smiling +somewhat wearily, "that is to settle his fate."</p> + +<p>Fox sat contemplating the wall. "It seems rather hard to say 'no' to +your question," he said at last, slowly, "but I should be inclined to +advise it. Have you any assurance—besides Charlie's promise, that +is—that he will not return to his bad habits?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[383]</a></span>"No, none of consequence. I am afraid he would. If—if he went into +the office with me now, I could keep an eye on him. That is," she +amended rather hopelessly, "I could try to. Charlie would probably +have no trouble in deceiving me if he tried to. I thought that +Henrietta might be willing to help about him. She might be able to do +more with him than I could."</p> + +<p>"Of course she would be willing."</p> + +<p>"She seems to have influence with Charlie and I should think she would +be willing to use it for his good. I haven't any influence," she +continued, "except through his fear of being found out. I don't know +how it happened—that doesn't matter especially—but he doesn't trust +me. I'm sorry, but that's the way it is." She sighed and looked away.</p> + +<p>Fox did not like to have her look away. He much preferred to have +those gray eyes look trustingly into his.</p> + +<p>"You may be sure that it's through no fault of yours, Sally."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," Sally returned, looking back at him. "Perhaps, but I'm not +so sure. Very likely it is my fault. At any rate, it can't be helped. +That's the way it's gone." She stopped and seemed to be considering; +wondering, perhaps, how she should have done. She could not have done +differently, being herself. There was always, at the bottom of her +heart, an utter contempt for—well, she would not complete that +thought. And she sighed again and resumed. Fox had said nothing.</p> + +<p>"If we kept him in college, there would be relapses,—inevitably, I +think,—and I should only have to do this over again. Not that I +should mind," she interrupted herself hastily, "if it would do any +good. But every relapse would make it harder. There seems to be no +escape. I think he'll have to come out. That, I understand, is the +sense of the meeting?" She looked at Fox again, smiling whimsically.</p> + +<p>"That is my advice," said he, "if I am privileged to give advice on +the subject. I'm sorry to be seeming to take away his opportunities. +His regret will grow as he grows older."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[384]</a></span>Sally shook her head. "He doesn't seem to have any regret."</p> + +<p>"He will have."</p> + +<p>"He may. I should think he would. But it's his own fault and that's +all there is to say about Charlie. I've done the best I could and I +don't mean to worry about it any more. I'll have him come into the +office to-morrow and I think he'll be glad to. It's a change, you +know."</p> + +<p>Sally looked at Fox and smiled again; but if there was anything +humorous in her smile there was much more that was scornful.</p> + +<p>"And now, Fox," Sally continued, very low—he could hardly hear the +words—and looking away again, "I have something else to tell you. It +is rather terrible, I think." Her voice was not steady and she +stopped, trying to control it. She did not want to cry; she did not +mean to. "I saw—" She choked, but went on bravely. "I saw my father +this morning."</p> + +<p>"What!" He cried in a voice as low as her own. The effect of her words +was as great as she could have expected, if she thought of the effect +at all. He put out his hand instinctively; but Sally withdrew hers. +"Where, Sally?"</p> + +<p>"He came to the hotel to see me." She spoke in a monotonous voice. She +found that her only hope lay in using that voice. She might begin to +cry at any moment. If she should—she was almost worn out and she was +afraid. In that same monotonous voice she gave every detail of the +interview. She did not omit anything. It was all burned into her +memory. Fox did not speak. When she came to an end of her account she +found that even her monotonous voice could not save her. She was +perilously near to tears and her chin would quiver in spite of all +that she could do.</p> + +<p>"Sally! Sally!" said Fox tenderly. He saw her condition. "Don't tell +me any more now if it distresses you."</p> + +<p>"I may as well," she replied as well as she could. She smiled up at +him, but her chin quivered more and more. "I may as well—now as well +as another time. For—for I've <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[385]</a></span>got to tell you, Fox." She looked at +him imploringly. "I've got to tell somebody, and the somebody is +always you." She smiled again tearfully, and looked away again. Fox +could not stand many such smiles. He would—would do something, he did +not know just what; but he sat gazing at her with infinite tenderness +and pity, saying nothing.</p> + +<p>"My father is employed in—in the house that we went to," she resumed +at last; "the house where Charlie has been playing. He deals the +cards—or something. He must have known!" Two tears fell into her lap. +"To think that my father has fallen to that!—has fallen so low! And +when Charlie said that to him," she cried desperately, "it almost +b—broke my heart."</p> + +<p>Her voice shook and suddenly she bowed her head upon her arms, which +were resting on the table, and broke into a passion of tears; wild +weeping, such as Fox had never known—had never supposed could come +from her. She had always seemed so beautifully poised, so steady and +so sturdy; like a rock, on which others built their foundations. But +the rod had smitten her and the springs were unbound. He had a wild +desire to take her in his arms.</p> + +<p>But he didn't—then. He only murmured something meant to be +comforting. God knew he wanted to comfort her; wanted to as he had +never wanted anything in his life before. He would, if he only knew +how. But the wild weeping had given way to a subdued sobbing.</p> + +<p>"And—it—it alm—most b—broke my heart," she sobbed, "to re—refuse +what he asked. B—but I had to do it. I h—had to do it, Fox. I +c—couldn't do anything else." She caught her breath. She could not go +on for a minute.</p> + +<p>Only an inarticulate murmur came from Fox.</p> + +<p>"Father was such a pathetic figure!" Sally went on a soon as she could +speak. "Of course I know that he is not always so—that he is seldom +so. There were mother and Charlie to think of. But it seemed so +terrible! And he was so patient under Charlie's—treatment—his own +father! I can't get him out of my—"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[386]</a></span>Her wild weeping, restrained for a moment, broke out again.</p> + +<p>"Sally!" Fox murmured, leaning forward and laying a hand upon her +knee. "Sally, dear!"</p> + +<p>There was a great distress and a great longing in his look, but Sally +had her head down and she did not see it. But it was in his voice and +she may have heard it. He rose impulsively from his chair and went to +her quickly—it was only a step—and he sat on the arm of her chair +and put his arm around her.</p> + +<p>"Sally, dear!" he implored. "Don't cry so! Please don't."</p> + +<p>She did not repulse him, as he had feared she would, gently, of +course, but firmly; but she did not yield either. It was as if, for +the moment, he was nothing to her—nothing more than a brother; not +<i>her</i> brother, thank heaven! She only sobbed, there, for some +minutes—in his arms. That was enough.</p> + +<p>She became more quiet in time. She still had her head down upon one +arm, but she was feeling up her sleeve and under her belt, searching +for something.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, F—Fox," she said, "I didn't mean to do it, but I'm +t—tired out and—and I can't find my handkerchief." She laughed a +little hysterically. "Have you got one to l—lend me, Fox? I c—can't +lift my head be—because I'm crying and I've cried all over your table +and into your chair—"</p> + +<p>"Drat the table! What do you suppose I care about it, Sally?"</p> + +<p>"You—you ought to. I—it's a very pretty table."</p> + +<p>"I value it only because it holds your tears." Fox was unfolding a +handkerchief. It was a very large handkerchief. He put it into her +seeking hand. "I remember another occasion when you had to borrow a +handkerchief," he said. "Do you remember it, Sally?"</p> + +<p>She nodded and began to mop her eyes. "Mercy! I—I didn't want a +sheet, Fox," she said.</p> + +<p>Fox smiled. "I didn't know. You might." His voice was <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[387]</a></span>not steady as +he went on. "Sally," he whispered, "I—I want you. I want you!"</p> + +<p>She gave another hysterical laugh. "Well," she cried, "anybody +w—would th—think that y—you had me."</p> + +<p>"Have I, Sally dear?" he asked, still in that low whisper. "Have I?" +He bent over her neck. That was the only part of her that he could +reach—that neck with its little tendrils of waving hair.</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't!" she cried hastily. "Don't, Fox. You haven't got me—yet," +she added in a whisper which was barely audible. But Fox heard it. +"It—it isn't because—because you are sorry for me?" she asked in a +very small voice.</p> + +<p>"No," Fox was smiling again; but, as Sally had her eyes hidden, of +course she did not see it. "I am sorry for you as I can be, but that +isn't the reason. Guess again."</p> + +<p>"Are you <i>sure</i>, Fox? <i>Very</i> sure?" she asked. "Say that you are, +Fox," she whispered. "Can't you please say that you are?"</p> + +<p>"I am sure."</p> + +<p>"And it isn't be—because m—my father," the small voice asked again, +"because my father is a—"</p> + +<p>"No. That isn't the reason either. I'm quite sure, Sally."</p> + +<p>Sally's head was still down on the table and she was wiping away her +tears.</p> + +<p>"But, Fox," she protested, "you ought not to, you know."</p> + +<p>"I ought," he replied indignantly. "I ought to have done it long ago. +Why not?"</p> + +<p>Sally smiled at the table. "M—my father," she returned, not at all +dismally, "would disgrace you—very likely. He's a d—"</p> + +<p>He interrupted her. "I don't care what he is, Sally," he said softly. +"I don't care about anything—but this."</p> + +<p>"And my brother is a gambler," she went on, in a disgracefully happy +voice, considering what she was saying,—"with not much hope that he +will be anything else. I don't deceive myself."</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[388]</a></span>"Only the greater reason," he said, more softly yet. "I want you, +Sally."</p> + +<p>"Do you? After that?"</p> + +<p>"You may believe it—dearest."</p> + +<p>She gave a sudden, happy little cry. "Oh, I believe it. I want to +believe it. I have wanted to for more than two years—ever—since the +night of the fire." She lifted her head, the tears shining in her +eyes; something else shining there. "Then I don't care for—for +Margaret—or—or anybody else; or any—any—thing"—her voice sank to +a whisper once more—"but you."</p> + +<p>Sally raised her eyes slowly to his. They were shy eyes, and very +tender. And Fox looked into their depths and saw—but what he saw +concerns only him and Sally. He seemed satisfied with what he saw. He +held her closer. Sally's eyes filled slowly and overflowed at last, +and she shut them.</p> + +<p>"I'm crying because I'm so happy," she whispered.</p> + +<p>Fox bent and kissed her. "I don't care for Margaret or for anybody +else but you," he murmured, "and I never have cared for anybody else. +I don't know what you mean. Who is Margaret?"</p> + +<p>Sally opened her eyes. "You don't know?" she asked in surprise.</p> + +<p>"I don't know. You have spoken of her before—as if I ought to know +all about her. Who is she and why must I know about her?"</p> + +<p>She did not answer at once. Her eyes were deep and shining and, her +eyes searching his, she put up her arms—slowly—slowly—about his +neck. "Oh, Fox, dear!" she cried softly. "Oh, Fox, dear! And you don't +know!"</p> + +<p>She laughed low and happily. Then she drew his head down—it came +readily enough—</p> + +<p>When Sally emerged, a minute or two later, she was blushing. She +seemed burning up. She hid her burning cheeks in Fox's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Fox," she murmured from her hiding place, "don't you remember +Margaret Savage?"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[389]</a></span>"Oh, yes," he answered quite cheerfully. "She is very pretty now—very +attractive to the young men—but she's as much of a fool as ever."</p> + +<p>Sally laughed again. "And Henrietta told me," she said, "that you +might succumb. So you see that, when you spoke of getting married—"</p> + +<p>"Why, I meant you, all the time."</p> + +<p>"Ye—es, but I didn't know that—and—and I thought that you meant +Margaret and—and Henrietta's remarks set me to thinking and +then—then, pretty soon, I knew that—that I loved you, Fox, and I was +very unhappy. Oh, Fox, I <i>was</i> unhappy!"</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry, darling. I'm very sorry. Sally!"</p> + +<p>She looked up at him and, as she looked, the red once more mounted +slowly, flooding her throat and then her cheeks. Again she put her +arms up and drew his head down.</p> + +<p>The crimson flood had left her face and there was in it only a lovely +color as she lay back in his arms. "Don't you love me, Fox?"</p> + +<p>He laughed. "Love you! Love you! I should think it was—"</p> + +<p>"Then," she asked, "why don't you say so, sir? You haven't said so +yet—not once." His arms tightened about her. "Close, Fox, dear!" she +whispered. "Hold me closer. I don't want to get away, ever."</p> + +<p>It was getting late when they finally stood at a window from which +they could see the little cream-colored house—they had got as far as +that—and the grove behind it.</p> + +<p>"I want to open that house," Fox was saying. "I want to live in it."</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> want to live in it," Sally said.</p> + +<p>"But," he returned quickly, "you know what must happen first. How +soon, Sally?"</p> + +<p>"Just as soon as ever I can manage it, dear. You may depend upon that. +And now I must go. I'm disgracefully late, even now."</p> + +<p>She hastily rearranged her hair, which, strangely enough, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[390]</a></span>was much +disordered, and she put on her hat. Then she stood before him.</p> + +<p>"Now, don't you be troubled about your father, Sally, or about +Charlie, or anything. We will take care of those troubles together."</p> + +<p>"As if you hadn't always tried to take those troubles off my +shoulders!" She raised her radiant eyes to his. "If this is what you +meant by 'paying in kind,' you shall be paid, Fox. Oh, you <i>shall</i> be +paid. And, dear, nothing troubles me now. Do you understand? +<i>Nothing</i>. Now I must run. Don't come with me. People couldn't help +noticing something. Good night."</p> + +<p>Once more she kissed him, and she was gone, walking buoyantly and +turning more than once to wave to him. Fox's eyes were wet as he +watched her.</p> + +<p>"Bless you, Sally! God go with you!"</p> + +<p>God go with you, Sally!</p> + +<br /> +<br /> + +<h4>THE END</h4> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<h4> +The Riverside Press<br /> +CAMBRIDGE · MASSACHUSETTS<br /> +U·S·A</h4> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> + +<div class="ads"> + +<p class="adtitle">OLD HARBOR</p> + +<p class="right">By WILLIAM JOHN HOPKINS</p> +<br /> + +<p>"A charming picture of an old New England seaport.... It is a book to +close reluctantly with the hope of soon opening another volume by the +same author."—<i>New York Times.</i></p> + +<p>"A tale to chuckle over.... It is not often that a reader has an +opportunity in the pages of a book to come in touch with such a group +of genial and lovable people."—<i>Minneapolis Journal.</i></p> + +<p>"A cheerful, amusing story of old-fashioned people.... The author is a +genuine humorist."—<i>Boston Transcript.</i></p> + +<p>"A story conceived in the same spirit as 'The Clammer,' filled with +the same philosophy, displaying the same keen insight."—<i>Brooklyn +Eagle.</i></p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cen">Square crown 8vo. $1.25 <i>net.</i> Postage 14 cents</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="80%" summary=""> + <tr> + <td class="tdc" width="33%">HOUGHTON<br /> MIFFLIN <br /> COMPANY</td> + <td class="tdc" width="34%"><img border="0" src="images/deco.png" width="40%" alt="Publisher's Mark" /></td> + <td class="tdc" width="33%">BOSTON<br /> AND<br /> NEW YORK</td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> + +<p class="adtitle">THE MEDDLINGS OF EVE</p> + +<p class="right">By WILLIAM J. HOPKINS</p> +<br /> + +<p>"Mr. Hopkins is a true humorist. His distinction is to have found a +new literary field and to have peopled it with original and living +characters that may not unjustly give him claim to rank with the best +of our living American writers."—<i>Boston Transcript.</i></p> + +<p>"Humor, dignity, and most perfect human love shine out in these +charming stories."—<i>The Outlook.</i></p> + +<p>"Mr. Hopkins is a master of the sort of quiet humor which makes the +charm of these stories."—<i>Congregationalist.</i></p> + +<p>"A story full of subtle situations ... a delightful volume."—<i>San +Francisco Chronicle.</i></p> + +<hr /> + +<p class="cen">Tall 12mo, $1.00 <i>net.</i> Postage 9 cents.</p> + +<hr /> + +<div class="centered"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="80%" summary=""> + <tr> + <td class="tdc" width="33%">HOUGHTON<br /> MIFFLIN <br /> COMPANY</td> + <td class="tdc" width="34%"><img border="0" src="images/deco.png" width="40%" alt="Publisher's Mark" /></td> + <td class="tdc" width="33%">BOSTON<br /> AND<br /> NEW YORK</td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + +</div> + +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> + +<div class="tr"> +<p class="cen"><a name="TN" id="TN"></a>Typographical errors corrected in text:</p> +<br /> +Page 209: minature replaced with miniature<br /> +Page 361: "and and" replaced with "and"<br /> +Page 361: "in which the might conceal herself" replaced with "in which she might conceal herself"<br /> +Page 363: persusasively replaced with persuasively<br /> +Page 372: embarassed replaced with embarrassed<br /> +Page 379: enought replaced with enough<br /> +Page 383: "You may sure" replaced with "You may be sure"<br /> +</div> + +<br /> +<hr /> +<br /> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Concerning Sally, by William John Hopkins + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CONCERNING SALLY *** + +***** This file should be named 37118-h.htm or 37118-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/1/1/37118/ + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Jeannie Howse and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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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: Concerning Sally + +Author: William John Hopkins + +Release Date: August 18, 2011 [EBook #37118] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CONCERNING SALLY *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Jeannie Howse and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + * * * * * + + +-----------------------------------------------------------+ + | Transcriber's Note: | + | | + | Inconsistent hyphenation in the original document has | + | been preserved. This e-book has stuttering dialect. | + | | + | Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. For | + | a complete list, please see the end of this document. | + | | + +-----------------------------------------------------------+ + + * * * * * + + +By William John Hopkins + + + CONCERNING SALLY. + THE INDIAN BOOK. Illustrated. + THE MEDDLINGS OF EVE. + OLD HARBOR. + THE CLAMMER. + + + HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY + BOSTON AND NEW YORK + + + + +CONCERNING SALLY + + + + + CONCERNING + SALLY + + BY + + WILLIAM JOHN HOPKINS + + [Illustration] + + BOSTON AND NEW YORK + HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY + The Riverside Press Cambridge + 1912 + + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1912, BY WILLIAM JOHN HOPKINS + ALL RIGHTS RESERVED + + _Published September 1912_ + + + + +BOOK I + + + + +CONCERNING SALLY + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Professor Ladue sat at his desk, in his own room, looking out of the +window. What he might have seen out of that window was enough, one +would think, to make any man contented with his lot, especially a man +of the ability of Professor Ladue. He had almost attained to eminence +in his own line, which, it is to be presumed, is all that any of us +can hope to attain to--each in his own line. + +Out of Professor Ladue's window there might have been seen, first, a +huge tree, the leaves upon which were fast turning from the deep green +of late summer to a deep copper brown with spots of brilliant yellow. +If his eyes were weary of resting in the shadow of that great tree, +his gaze might go farther and fare no worse: to other trees, not too +thickly massed, each in the process of turning its own particular +color and each of them attaining to eminence in its own line without +perceptible effort; to the little river which serenely pursued its +winding and untroubled course; or to the distant hills. + +But Professor Ladue, it is to be feared, saw none of these things. He +was unconscious of the vista before his eyes. A slight smile was on +his handsome face, but the smile was not altogether a pleasant one. He +withdrew his gaze and glanced distastefully about the room: at the +small bundle of papers on his desk, representing his work; at the +skull which adorned the desk top; at the half-mounted skeleton of some +small reptile of a prehistoric age lying between the windows; at his +bed. It was an inoffensive bed; merely a narrow cot, tucked out of the +way as completely as might be. Professor Ladue did not care for +luxury, at any rate not in beds, so long as they were comfortable, and +the bed took up very little room, which was important. + +As his glance took in these things, a slight expression of disgust took +the place of the smile, for a moment; then the smile returned. All +expressions in which Professor Ladue indulged were slight. There was +nothing the matter with him. He was only tired of work--temporarily +sick of the sight of it; which is not an unusual state of mind, for any +of us. It may be deplored or it may be regarded as merely the normal +state of rebellion of a healthy mind at too much work. That depends +largely upon where we draw the line. We might not all draw it where +Professor Ladue drew it. And he did not deplore the state of mind in +which he found himself. It was a state of mind in which he was finding +himself with growing frequency, and when he was in it his sole wish was +to be diverted. + +He opened a drawer in his desk, dumped therein the papers, and, +removing from it a box of cigarettes, took one and slipped the box +into his pocket. After various tappings and gentle thumpings in the +manner of your cigarette-smoker, designed, I suppose, to remove some +of the tobacco which the maker had carefully put into it, the +cigarette seemed to be considered worthy of his lips. I have no doubt +that it was. So he lighted it, cast the match thoughtfully into the +empty grate, and rose slowly. + +He dawdled a minute at the window, looked at his watch, muttered +briefly, and went briskly out and down the stairs. + +He took his overcoat from the rack in the hall and removed the +cigarette from his lips for a moment. + +"Sarah!" he called curtly. + +His voice was clear and penetrating and full of authority. If I had +been Sarah, the quality of that one word, as he uttered it, would have +filled me with resentment. A door almost at his elbow opened quickly +and a girl appeared. She was well grown and seemed to be about twelve. +She was really ten. + +"What is it, father?" she asked; I had almost said that she demanded +it, but there was no lack of respect in her voice. "Please don't +disturb mother. She has a headache. I'm taking care of Charlie. What +is it?" + +"Oh, Sally," he said. It appeared as if he might even be afraid of +her, just a little, with her seriousness and her direct ways and her +great eyes that seemed to see right through a man. He gave a little +laugh which he intended to be light. It wasn't. "Oh, all right, Sally. +You're a very good girl, my dear." + +Sally did not smile, but looked at him steadily, waiting for him to +say what he had to say. + +"Tell your mother, Sally," the professor went on, "that I find I have +to go into town to attend to an important matter at the college. I may +be late in getting out. In fact, she mustn't be worried if I don't +come to-night. It is possible that I may be kept too late for the last +train. I am sorry that she has a headache. They seem to be getting +more frequent." + +Sally bowed her head gravely. "Yes," she said, "they do." + +"Well, tell her that I am very sorry. If I could do anything for her, +I should, of course, be only too happy. But I can't and there doesn't +appear to be any good purpose served by my giving up my trip to town." +In this the professor may, conceivably, have been wrong. "Give her my +message, my dear, and take good care of Charlie. Good-bye, Sally." + +The professor stooped and imprinted a cold kiss upon her forehead. +Sally received it impassively without expressing any emotion whatever. + +"Good-bye, father," she said. "I will tell mother." + +Professor Ladue went out and walked jauntily down the road toward the +station. No good purpose will be served, to use his own words, by +following him farther at this time. Sally went soberly back to the +library, where she had left Charlie; she went very soberly, indeed. No +Charlie was to be seen; but, with a skill born of experience, she +dived under the sofa and haled him forth, covered with dust and +squealing at the top of his lungs. + +"I hided," he shouted. + +"Sh--h, Charlie. You'll disturb mother. Poor mother's got a pain in +her head." The sombre gray eyes suddenly filled with tears, and she +hugged the boy tight. "Oh, Charlie, Charlie! I'm afraid that father's +going to do it again." + +Charlie whimpered in sympathy. Perhaps, too, Sally had hugged him too +tight for comfort. His whimper was becoming a wail when she succeeded +in hushing him. Then she heard a soft step coming slowly down the +stairs. + +"Now, Charlie," she said reproachfully, "it's too bad. Here's mother +coming down. I wish," she began, impatiently; then she checked herself +suddenly, for the boy's lips were puckering. "Never mind. Laugh, now." + +It is not strange that the boy could not accommodate himself to such +sudden changes. He was only six. But he tried faithfully, and would +have succeeded if he had been given more time. The door opened gently. + +"Sally, dear," said a soft voice, "I thought that I heard the front +door shut. Has your father gone out?" + +Mrs. Ladue was gentle and pretty and sweet-looking; and with a tired +look about the eyes that seldom left her now. She had not had that +look about the eyes when she married young Mr. Ladue, thirteen years +before. There were few women who would not have had it if they had +been married to him for thirteen years. That had been a mistake, as it +had turned out. For his own good, as well as hers, he should have had +a different kind of a wife: none of your soft, gentle women, but a +woman who could habitually bully him into subjection and enjoy the +process. The only difficulty about that is that he would never have +married a woman who habitually bullied. He wanted to do any bullying +that there was to be done. Not that he actually did any, as it is +usually understood, but there was that in his manner that led one to +think that it was just beneath the surface; and by "one" I mean his +wife and daughter,--no doubt, I should have said "two." As for Sally, +the traditional respect that is due a father from a daughter was all +that prevented her from finding out whether it was there. To be sure, +his manner toward her was different. It seemed almost as if he were +afraid of Sally; afraid of his own daughter, aged ten. Stranger things +have happened. + +If Mrs. Ladue knew that she had made a mistake, thirteen years before, +she never acknowledged it to herself when she thought of her children. +She beckoned Charlie to her now. + +"Come here, darling boy," she said, stooping. + +Charlie came, with a rush, and threw his arms about his mother's neck. + +"Oh, Charlie," cried Sally quickly, "remember mother's head. Be +careful!" + +Mrs. Ladue smiled gently. "Never mind, Sally. Let him be as he is. It +makes my head no worse to have my little boy hugging me. Has your +father gone out?" she asked again. + +Sally's eyes grew resentful. "Yes," she answered. "He left a message +for you. He said I was to tell you that he was very sorry you had a +headache and that if he could do anything for you he would be only too +happy." Sally's voice insensibly took on a mocking quality. "And--and +there was something about his being called into town by pressing +matters and you were not to be worried if he missed the last train +and--and--" She burst into a passion of tears. "Oh, mother, dear, I +don't believe a word of it. I'm afraid he'll come back like--like--" +Her whole form quivered with the energy of her utterance. There was no +doubt that she meant what she said so violently. "I _hate_--" + +"Hush, darling, hush! Never say that." Mrs. Ladue drew her little +daughter close and patted her shoulder. + +Sally's crying ceased abruptly, but the muscles were all tense under +her mother's hand. She smiled bravely. + +"Now, mother, dear," she said, "I have made it worse, haven't I? I +didn't mean to do that--to cry. Truly, I didn't. I won't ever do it +again." She put one arm about her mother's neck and stroked her +forehead gently. "Mother, darling, doesn't it make your head just a +little better to have your little daughter hu--hug--ging you, too?" +And she hid her face in her mother's neck. + +Mrs. Ladue's eyes filled with tears. "My dearest little daughter!" she +murmured, kissing her. "If only you could be happy! If only you didn't +take things so to heart! Mother's own dear little girl!" She rose and +spoke brightly. "Now, let's all go out into this lovely day and be +happy together." + +Sally smiled. "Yes," she said, "we'll all be happy together. Don't you +think, mother, that it will make your head better?" + +"Yes," replied Mrs. Ladue, "I think it will." + +So they went out to the trees and the river and the hills. But Sally +did not skip. Charlie, it is to be noted, did; Charlie, who had said +nothing about being happy. It is to be presumed that they were all +ecstatically happy; for had they not assured one another that they +would be? + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +It is to be feared that Professor Ladue had gone and done it again, as +Sally said. Not that Sally knew what "it" was, nor did her mother +know, either. Indeed, Mrs. Ladue made no inquiries concerning that +point, being glad to put the most favorable construction possible upon +the matter and, perhaps, afraid that she would not be able to do so if +she knew any more. Perhaps, too, she realized that, unless she pursued +her inquiries among comparative strangers, she would learn nothing. +The professor would lie freely and skillfully, assuming that he +considered it necessary or desirable to lie, and might be led to bully +a little. Whatever course he might take, she would be no better off. +So, as I said, she made no inquiries, which may have been wise or it +may not; and she kept on hoping, although each occasion left her with +less ground for any reasonable hope. + +At all events, Professor Ladue came back early the next afternoon in +the most fiendish temper, which may have been due to excess in any of +its customary forms. Whatever the exact cause, the effect was, +apparently, to make him hate himself and everybody with whom he came +in contact. Mrs. Ladue was aware of the state of mind that he would be +in, from experience, I suppose; an experience which she did not seem +at all anxious to repeat. Sally was aware of it, too, and even Charlie +seemed to realize that any meeting with his father was to be avoided. +So it happened that Professor Ladue found the way into the house and +to his room unobstructed. His wife and his children were nowhere to be +seen; which circumstance, in itself, annoyed him exceedingly, although +it is probable that he would have found their presence equally +annoying. + +Once in his room, he paced to and fro for a few minutes, nervously; +then he took off his coat and bathed his head and face with cold +water, pouring it over his head repeatedly. When he had rubbed his +head partially dry he appeared to feel somewhat better, and he seated +himself, frowning, at his desk, and tried to apply himself to his +work. In this, as he undoubtedly expected, he was not very successful. +He would not have expected one of his own students to be able to apply +himself to work with any success under similar circumstances, whatever +those circumstances were. So he pushed his work aside with some +impatience, got up, took the skull from the desk and handled it +absently. The feel of the skull seemed to suggest some ideas to him, +for he put it down, went to the half-mounted skeleton of that ancient +reptile that I have mentioned as lying between his windows, and began +to work in earnest. + +He soon became interested; so much interested that he was forgetting +about his head, which felt as if it had been pounded with +hammers,--tiny hammers which had not yet finished their work, whatever +it was,--and he was forgetting about his eyes, which ached as if the +pressure of blood behind the eyeballs was forcing them out of his +head. He didn't know but it was; but it didn't matter. And he was +forgetting about his body, every bone and muscle of which was crying +out for rest and sleep. He sat there, on the floor under one of his +windows, puzzling over a bone which he held in his hand, and +completely absorbed. + +Suddenly he glanced involuntarily out of the window. There sat Sally, +astride a limb of the great tree, looking in at him intently. She was +a most annoying child; yes, a most devilishly annoying child. He +sprang to his feet and threw up the window, almost in one motion. +Sally did not move a muscle; not even her eyes. He did not say the +sharp things that were on the tip of his tongue, he could not have +told why; he did not say anything for very nearly a minute. Under such +circumstances, a minute is a long time. Nor did Sally say anything. +She only gazed solemnly at him. + +"Sally," he demanded at last, "what are you doing there?" The look in +his eyes had softened. You might have mistaken it for a look of +affection. + +"Nothing, father," Sally answered, briefly and respectfully. + +"Well, what the--" Professor Ladue was at a loss for words in which to +express his exasperation. This was an unusual condition for him to be +in. "Well, why don't you get down?" + +"I don't want to get down," Sally returned. "I like being up here." + +"You'll break your neck." + +Sally made no reply. + +"Can you get down safely?" + +"Yes, father." + +"Get down, then," said Professor Ladue, less sharply than he had meant +to speak. "Don't you know that it must annoy me very much to have you +spying in upon me in that way?" + +"No, father, I didn't know it annoyed you," replied Sally in a +colorless voice. "I beg your pardon. But I wasn't spying on you. I was +only enjoying myself. I won't do it again." + +Sally began slipping and sliding and scrambling down the tree. She +seemed to have no fear and to be very familiar with the road she was +taking. She knew every foothold. Her father watched her as she went +from one insecure hold to another. It must have appeared to him a +perilous descent, one would suppose; but I do not know what he +thought. At all events, he called to her when she had swung off the +lowest branch and dropped safely. He still had in his hand that +prehistoric bone. + +"Sally!" he called; "don't you want to come up here?" + +Sally looked up, evidently greatly surprised. She was not easily +surprised. + +"To your room?" she asked. + +"Yes," replied her father impatiently, "of course. To my room." + +"Do you want me to?" Sally is to be excused for pressing the point. +She did not wish to make any mistake. Mistakes had been made before. + +"I should be greatly pleased," said the professor, smiling and bowing +airily. "I should consider it a great honor if Miss Sally Ladue would +favor me with her company at the present juncture." He leaned a little +out of the window. "You know I am working on the skeleton." + +"Yes," said Sally. "I'll come up right away." + +It is to be noted that Sally had not answered the exact question which +the professor had asked her. She may have been reluctant to answer it +just as it was asked. It is to be supposed that she was aware of the +question and that she knew the answer. Sally was a truthful young +person, but she preferred to take the course that made for peace if it +was consistent with truth. The professor did not press the matter. + +He was again sitting on the floor when Sally knocked on the door and +came in. His head was a little better. Perhaps the tiny hammers had +nearly finished their work. At all events, he soon forgot it +completely. + +"Sally," he said, after he had been working for some minutes and Sally +had been watching him in silence, "what do you think this is?" + +"I don't know, father," she answered. "Is it a--an alligator?" + +"No," he said, stopping and looking thoughtfully at the skeleton. "No, +it is not an alligator, although you came nearer than I should have +thought you would. You were just barely warm, Sally. It is a distant +relative of the alligator; perhaps I should call it a connection. The +thirteenth cousin of his hundred thousandth great-grandfather, or +something like that. It is a sort of a lizard, Sally. It is a very +small one." + +"Oh!" cried Sally. "A _small_ one! A small _lizard_! Why, father!" + +Professor Ladue smiled. "It lived a great many thousands of years +ago. Nobody knows how many thousands of years, although they will tell +you very glibly. They don't know anything about it except that it was +a long time. I know that. This little lizard is a kind that nobody has +ever discovered; nobody except me. It is _my_ lizard. It must be known +by my name. What do you think of that, Sally?" + +"It must be very fine," Sally murmured, "to discover things." + +"At that far-off time," the professor continued, "there were lots of +great horrid creeping and flying things. Even my little lizard may +have been able to fly. See! These seem to be the beginning of his wing +bones. There are some bones missing, so that I can't tell, yet, +whether he had wings that would bear him up. But probably he had. +Probably he had." And the professor relapsed into a thoughtful +silence. + +"Father," said Sally presently. She had been thinking and her interest +in the skeleton was more active than it had been. + +The professor looked up. "Any question that Miss Ladue has to ask," he +observed, "will be cheerfully answered, provided that I know the +answer. If I do not know the answer, and have the courage to say so, I +trust she will not regard me as wholly ignorant of the subject." + +Sally gave vent to a chuckle which was entirely unexpected; entirely +unexpected by herself, at least. + +"Father," she asked, as soon as she had managed to suppress her +chuckles, "then could your little lizard fly up high?" + +"Yep," he answered; "like a pigeon. Or, more probably, he flew more +like a bat than like a pigeon." + +"Right up into the tops of the trees?" + +"Right up into the topmost branches of the coal trees." + +"The _coal trees_!" + +"The coal trees. Fed on the fruit. Large lizards customarily ate +furnace coal, middle-sized lizards ate stove coal. Little lizards ate +chestnut coal." + +Sally burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. In all her +experience of her father, she had never known him to be so amusing. + +"And the littlest lizards?" + +"Ate pea coal," replied the professor promptly, "and the tiniest +babies ate buckwheat coal. Very nourishing, chestnuts and peas and +buckwheat. Cracked it with their teeth." + +Sally was still giggling. + +"Seriously, Sally," said the professor, with a change of manner, "by +the coal trees I meant the trees which have become the coal we are +burning in the stove and the furnace and to make steam. I see no +reason to doubt that this little lizard could fly up into the tops of +the trees. Perhaps he actually alighted on some tree which we now have +down cellar in the coal bin." + +"Oh!" cried Sally. "Let's suppose he did. And what did he see from his +topmost branch?" + +"Very little," replied the professor, "except treetops and a swamp or +two." + +"Well," said Sally, "it's rather disappointing. But I wish I could +have seen it." + +"Then," said her father solemnly, "there would now be nothing left of +you but a skeleton which I would be puzzling my brains over. It would +be somewhat disconcerting, Sally, to find a skeleton of a little girl +among these bones of a past age; very disconcerting, indeed, to find +that of Miss Sally Ladue." + +"But how would you know it was Miss Sally Ladue's skeleton?" asked +Sally, her eyes twinkling. + +"That is a poser," her father answered. "I should know it, though. If +there were no other means of identifying it, I should know it for Miss +Ladue's by the large bump of inquisitiveness on the skull." + +"What's my bump of inquisitiveness?" + +The professor turned towards her. "Hand me that skull on my desk, and +I'll show you." Sally obediently handed him the skull. "There it is," +he continued. "You can see it, although it is not as large as your +own. Come here and let us see if it is." + +Sally came. + +"The phrenologists," he began, feeling of her head, "would--hello!" + +"Ouch!" cried Sally, squirming but giggling irrepressibly, +nevertheless. + +"It is a very large bump," said the professor gravely; "unexpectedly +large, even for you. What makes it so large, Sally?" + +"I--I fell out of a tree yesterday," Sally said. "I suppose it was +that." + +"Ah, yes," the professor returned; "and because the bump was so large +by nature it stuck out in a most inappropriate and uncomfortable way +and was made more inappropriate and uncomfortable. It might be safer +for you if you could fly, like my little lizard." + +"I wish I could," said Sally; "I wish I could fly into the top of any +tree I wanted to." + +"You find the trees very attractive?" + +"Yes, I do," Sally replied, simply. "You can see a lot from the top of +a tall tree. The trouble is that you can't find big enough branches +when you get nearly to the top." + +"No," observed the professor, "I can't. If I could, I suppose I might +climb trees oftener. It is very disconcerting to get almost up, just +where the leaves are thickest, and find that I can't get any higher +and can't see anything to speak of, either. And twigs that you +wouldn't hesitate to trust yourself upon, Sally, are not nearly big +enough for me. That," he finished, reflectively, "is, I think, the +only reason why I have given up tree-climbing at such an early age." + +Sally chuckled delightedly. "Did you climb trees when you were a boy, +father?" + +"Huh! Climb trees! Gracious, yes. Used to run right up one side and +down the other. Tallest trees I could find, too. Hundreds of feet +high. Did I use to climb trees!" The professor turned away in excess +of scorn. + +"Oh!" cried Sally, clapping her hands. + +"Climb trees!" murmured the professor. "Why, there was one tree that I +remember--" + +He was interrupted, at this point, by a gentle knock at the door. + +"That sounds like your mother's knock, Sally. Will you be kind enough +to see?" + +It was Mrs. Ladue. She had heard the unaccustomed sounds of merriment +issuing from her husband's room and had come up--rather timidly, it +must be confessed--to see what it was all about. If her heart was +fluttering a little with symptoms of hope, as she came, it is not to +be wondered at. There was another reason for her coming, although she +was not conscious that it had weight with her. + +She was half smiling as she entered; half smiling in a doubtful, +hesitating sort of way, ready to let the smile develop in its own +lovely manner or to check it and let it fade away, according to +circumstances. Sally held tightly to her hand. Professor Ladue got +upon his feet with more agility than would have been expected of him. + +"Sally and I were having a session with my lizard," he said, "and were +variously entertaining ourselves. I hope your head is better, Sarah." + +Mrs. Ladue appeared to see some reason for letting her smile take its +natural course. It was a very lovely smile, almost tender. Professor +Ladue should have been a very proud and happy man that it was for him. +There is no reason to think that he was. + +"Thank you, Charlie," she replied. "It is all right, to-day. Won't you +and Sally go on with your session and let me be a visitor? It must +have been a very amusing session. I don't know when I have heard Sally +laugh so much." + +Sally clapped her hands again. "Oh, do," she said. "You were going to +tell me about a tree, father. What about it?" + +Professor Ladue talked much nonsense in the next half-hour and was +surprisingly gay; and Sally sat, holding her mother's hand, and +smiling and chuckling and enjoying it intensely. Of course Mrs. Ladue +enjoyed it. The professor seemed so genial and care-free that she +reproached herself for her doubts. She even thought, unfortunately, +that it was a favorable time for asking for something that she was +very much in need of. But she hesitated, even then. + +"Charlie," she said timidly, as they were going, "can you--can you let +me have this week's money for the house? Katie, you know,--we owe her +for two weeks, and there's the--" + +Professor Ladue interrupted her. "Money?" he said airily. "Money? +What's money? Certainly, my dear. Help yourself. You're welcome to +anything you find there." + +He tossed her his pocketbook and turned back to his skeleton. Perhaps +it was to hide some embarrassment; perhaps it was only to indicate +that, so far as he was concerned, the incident was closed. For the +pocketbook was empty. + +Mrs. Ladue spoke low and tried hard to keep any hint of reproach out +of her voice. "Did you--did you lose it?" she asked. + +"I suppose I must have lost it, if there was anything to lose," +Professor Ladue replied nonchalantly. He did not turn away from his +work. + +"And--and did you notify the police?" + +"No, my dear, I have not notified the police, yet." He smiled dryly as +he spoke. "I will take that matter under advisement." + +Mrs. Ladue did not push the question further. There were tears in her +eyes as she joined Sally. + +"Oh, mother," cried Sally joyously, "wasn't it fun? Did you ever know +that father could be so funny?" + +"Yes, darling child. He was full of fun and nonsense before we were +married, and for some years after." + +She bent and kissed her daughter, but would say no more. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Sally was not completely deprived of the society of other children, +although her temperament made this question a rather difficult one. +Her father did not bother himself about Sally's goings and comings, +which was quite what would have been expected. Indeed, he bothered +himself very little about the doings of his family; as a general +thing, he did not know what they did, nor did he care, so long as they +refrained from interference with his own actions. They had learned to +do that. + +Mrs. Ladue did bother herself about Sally's doings a good deal, in +spite of the difficulty of the question; and one would have thought +that she had her fill of difficult questions. She went to the door and +looked out. She saw Charlie playing alone near the foot of a tree. He +was tied to the tree by a long string, one end of which was about his +body, under his arms. + +"Charlie," she called, "where's Sally?" + +Charlie looked up, impatiently, and shook his head. Mrs. Ladue +repeated her question. + +"Up there," he answered, pointing into the tree above his head. "And +I'm a giraffe in a menagerie and giraffes can't talk, mother." + +"Oh, excuse me, little giraffe," she said, smiling. + +"Great, _big_ giraffe. _Not_ little giraffe." + +Meanwhile there had been a sound of scrambling in the tree and Sally +dropped to the ground. + +"Did you want me, mother?" she asked. + +"I only thought that you have had the care of Charlie for a long time. +Don't you want to go up to Margaret Savage's and play with her?" This +was, perhaps, the hundredth time that Mrs. Ladue had asked that +question. + +"No, mother," Sally replied, also for the hundredth time, "I don't. +But if you want me to go, I will." + +Mrs. Ladue laughed outright at her daughter's directness. "Why?" she +asked. "I am really curious to know why you don't like to play with +other little girls." + +"They are so stupid, mother," Sally answered quietly. "I have a lot +better time alone." + +"Well, my dear little daughter," began Mrs. Ladue, laughing again; and +there she stopped. "I should like, Sally,--I should like it very much, +if I could manage to send you to dancing-school this winter." + +"Very well, mother," said Sally again. + +"But I don't know what your father would think of the idea." + +"No," Sally returned. "You can't ever tell, can you?" + +"Wouldn't you like to go and be with the other children and do what +they do?" + +Sally was quite serious. "I don't think it would be very interesting," +she said. "But if you want me to go, I will." + +Mrs. Ladue sighed; then she laughed. "Well, Sally, dear," she said, +"run along and play in your own way. At any rate, I can trust you." + +"Yes, mother, dear, you can." + +And Sally ran out, quite happy, to untie the giraffe. + +"What you goin' to do, Sally?" he asked. + +"Giraffes can't talk," remarked Sally. + +"Aren't a giraffe. I'm the keeper. But I'll turn into a giraffe again +as soon as you answer me." + +"I'm going down in that little clump by the wall, where there are +plenty of things for giraffes to eat." + +Reminded that he was hungry, Charlie began to cry. + +"What's the matter?" asked Sally, stopping short. + +"Don't _want_ to be a giraffe and eat old leaves and things," Charlie +wailed. "Can't I have some gingerbread, Sally?" + +"Well, here," said Sally. She took from her pocket some little +crackers, which she gave him. "I guess those won't hurt you." + +Charlie made no reply, being busy with the crackers; and Sally led him +into the clump by the wall and tied him. + +"Sally," asked Charlie, somewhat anxiously, "what you goin' to do?" + +"I'm going up in the tree, of course." + +"Yes, but Sally, what will you be?" + +"I haven't decided," replied Sally thoughtfully. "I'll be deciding +while I go up." She turned and began to climb the tree, skillfully. +She had got no farther than the lower branches when she stopped. "Oh, +I'll tell you, Charlie," she cried. "It's just the thing. I'll be +father's little lizard." + +"What lizard?" Charlie demanded. + +"Father's little lizard, that he's got the skeleton of, up in his +room." + +"Isn't any little lizard," Charlie returned, very positively. "That's +a croc." + +"It is, too, a lizard, Charlie. Father said so." + +"Lizards are little weenty things," Charlie objected. "'Sides, they +don't live in trees." + +Sally did not feel sure on this point, so she evaded it. + +"That little lizard lived millions of years ago." What were a few +million years, more or less, to her? "And father said that it could +fly like a bat. It used to fly right up into the coal trees and--and +eat the coal that grew on them." Sally was giggling at the +recollection. "Now, this is a coal tree and I'm that little lizard, +and this is millions of years ago." + +Charlie had been paralyzed into momentary silence by the information +poured into him so rapidly. The silence was but momentary, but Sally +took advantage of it and climbed swiftly. + +"Sally!" + +Sally paused. "What?" she asked. + +"You that same lizard that father has the skeleton of?" + +Sally acknowledged that she was. + +"Then," Charlie retorted, "you haven't got any bones in you. They're +up in father's room." + +Sally chuckled, but she did not reply to this remark directly. + +"Charlie," she called, "you be a saurus something." + +"Don't _want_ to be a--Sally, what's a--that thing that you said for +me to be? What is it?" + +"Well," replied Sally slowly, "it's an animal kind of like an +alligator--and such things, you know. I guess I'm one. And Charlie, +you can't talk. Animals--especially sauruses--_never_ talked." + +"Parrots can," returned Charlie sullenly. + +Sally did not think it worth while to try to answer this objection. + +"There wasn't any kind of a thing, millions of years ago, that could +talk," she said calmly, "so, of course, they couldn't learn." + +"Then you can't talk, either," said Charlie, in triumph. And he +subsided and returned to the eating of crackers, of which, as +everybody knows, the saurians were extremely fond. + +Sally, meanwhile, was enjoying the prospect of treetops; an unbroken +prospect of treetops, except for a swamp which, in historic times, +became their own little valley. + +Sally had ceased, for the moment, her flitting lightly from bough to +bough, and there was no sign of her presence; and Charlie had come to +the end of his crackers and was browsing around in the grass, picking +up a crumb here and there. + +"Hello!" said a strange voice; a strange voice, but a very pleasant +one. "As I'm a living sinner, if here isn't a little pony!" + +Charlie looked up into the eyes of a very serious young man. The eyes +were twinkling over the wall and through the gap in the trees. Charlie +decided not to be frightened. But he shook his head. He wasn't a pony. + +"Well, well, of course not," the voice went on. "I was rather hasty, +but it looked like a pony, at the first glance. I guess it's a fierce +bull." + +Charlie shook his head again, less positively. Now that it had been +suggested, he yearned to be a fierce bull. He wished that he had +thought of it before he shook his head. + +"A camel?" asked the young man. "Can it be a camel?" + +Once more Charlie shook his head, and he laughed. + +"It sounds like a hyena," remarked the stranger solemnly, "but it +can't be, for hyenas eat--" He put his hand to his forehead and seemed +to be puzzling it out. "Aha!" he cried at last. "I have it. A +giraffe!" + +"No!" Charlie shouted. "I'm _aren't_ a giraffe. I'm a saw-horse." + +And he straddled his legs far apart and his arms far apart, and he +looked as much like a saw-horse as he could. That isn't saying much. + +At this last announcement of Charlie's, Sally exploded in a series of +chuckles so sudden and so violent that she almost fell out of the +tree. + +An answering titter came from the other side of the wall and a pair of +hands appeared, trying for a hold on the top stones; then the head of +a very pretty little girl followed, until her chin was on a level with +the top of the wall and she could look over it into Charlie's eyes. + +The strange young man had looked up into the tree. "Hello!" he +exclaimed. "If there isn't another! Is that a saw-horse, too?" + +Charlie had considered himself the person addressed. "Yes," he +replied, "it is. It's a flying one." + +"Mercy on us!" cried the young man. "A flying saw-horse! What a lot of +saw-horses you have about here; very interesting ones, too." + +"Yes," said Charlie importantly, "we like to be 'em." + +"It must be most exciting to be so extraordinary a thing. Do you +suppose you could get that flying one to come down where we can see +it? Do you know, I never have seen a flying saw-horse in all the +nineteen years that I have lived." + +"She won't come down unless she wants to," Charlie grumbled. + +Sally was recovering, in a measure, from her fit of chuckling. She +leaned far forward, below the screen of leaves. + +"Oh, yes, I will," she called, in a low, clear voice. "Besides, I want +to. Charlie was mistaken about the saw-horse. He meant saurus. And I +was a flying lizard and this was a coal tree. From the top of the tree +you can't see anything but treetops and swamps. It's millions of years +ago, you know. And father's got the skeleton of this very lizard up in +his room, and he said that it used to fly right up in the topmost +branches of the coal trees and he told me about the sauruses that used +to be." She had dropped to the ground. "Oh, it's very interesting." + +"It must be," the young man smilingly replied; "and I should suppose +that it must be rather interesting for your father to have such a +pupil." + +"It isn't," Sally returned. "That is--father only told me those things +the other day." + +The young man laughed. "I guess you must be Professor Ladue's little +girl." + +"Yes," said Sally, "we are. That is, I am, and this is my brother +Charlie." + +"The only and original saw-horse. You, I suppose, were a--we'll call +it a gynesaurus--" + +Sally clapped her hands and gave a little laugh of delight. + +"And this," he continued, laying his hand affectionately upon the +small head beside him, "is my small sister, Henrietta Sanderson, who +would be happy to be any kind of a beast that you tell her about. She +is ten years old and she dotes on being strange beasts." + +"Oh," cried Sally, "and I'm ten years old, too. Would Henrietta like +to come over the wall now? There's a gate farther along." + +"Henrietta despises gates. But does your invitation include her +brother? I'm Fox Sanderson and I was on my way to see your father." + +"Father isn't at home to-day," said Sally; "and, if you could come +over, too--" + +At that, Fox Sanderson put his hands on the top of the wall and +vaulted lightly over. He turned to help Henrietta. + +"Now," he said, when she was safely on the right side, "here we all +are. What'll we do?" + +Henrietta had her brother's hand. "Fox tells lovely stories," she +remarked. + +"Does he?" asked Sally. "What about?" + +"About any kind of a thing that you ask him," answered Henrietta. + +"About sauruses?" Sally asked eagerly, turning to him. + +"All right," he agreed, smiling; "about sauruses. But I'm afraid it's +just a little too cold for you youngsters to sit still and listen to +stories. I'll have to keep you moving a bit." + +Sally told her mother about it that night. She thought that she never +had had such a good time in all her life. Fox Sanderson! Well, he told +the most wonderful stories that ever were. + +"And, mother," said Sally, all interest, "he had me be a gynesaurus +and Henrietta was a---- But what are you laughing at?" + +For Mrs. Ladue had burst out laughing. "My dear little girl!" she +cried softly. "My dear little girl! A gynesaurus! This Fox Sanderson +must be interesting, indeed." + +"Then I can play with Henrietta? And father wouldn't mind, do you +think? And your head can't be hurting, mother, because you just +laughed right out." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Professor Ladue again sat on the floor of his room before the skeleton +of his lizard, absent-mindedly fingering a bone. Now and then he +looked out of the window at the great tree; at that particular spot in +the great tree upon which his daughter had been seated, one morning, +not so very long before. He may have had a half-formed wish that he +might again discover her there. + +But I do not know what half-formed wishes he had, concerning the tree, +his daughter, or anything else. At all events, Sally did not appear in +the tree. Had not he expressed disapproval of that very performance? +He could trust her. Perhaps, with a dim consciousness of that fact, +and, perhaps, with a certain disappointment that she was to be trusted +so implicitly,--she bore, in that respect, not the most remote +resemblance to her father,--the professor sighed. Then, still holding +the bone which bothered him, he went to his desk. There was a bone +missing--possibly more than one--and he would try to draw the missing +bone. + +He had scarcely got to work when there was a knock at his door. It was +a firm knock, but not loud, expressing a quiet determination. +Professor Ladue seemed to know that knock. He seemed, almost, as if he +had been waiting for it. + +"Come!" he cried, with an alacrity which would not have been expected +of him. + +He pushed back his drawing-board and Sally came in. + +"Ah, Miss Ladue!" he cried, with a certain spurious gayety which +concealed--something. I don't know what it concealed, and neither did +Sally, although she knew well enough that there was something behind +it. She feared that it was anxiety behind it, and she feared the cause +of that anxiety. "And what," continued the Professor, "can we do for +Miss Ladue to-day? Will she have more about this lizard of mine?" + +Sally's eyes lighted up and she smiled. "I should like that very much, +father, thank you. But I can't, this morning, for I'm taking care of +Charlie." + +"And is Charlie concealed somewhere about you? Possibly you have him +in your pocket?" + +Sally giggled. "Charlie's tied to a tree." + +"Tied to a tree! Does he submit gracefully?" + +"He's an alligator; down by the wall, you know." + +"Ah!" exclaimed the professor. "I am illumined. Do you think it is +quite for the safety of the passers-by to keep an alligator so close +to the road?" + +Sally giggled again. "Yes," she returned, "if I'm not gone too long. I +came on an errand." + +Professor Ladue lost somewhat of his gayety. "State your errand, +Sally. I hope--" + +But the professor neglected to state what he had hoped. Sally stated +her errand with her customary directness. + +"Mother wants me to go to dancing-school. Can I?" + +"I suppose," returned Professor Ladue airily, "that you can go +wherever your legs will carry you. I see no indications of your +inability in that direction or in any other. Whether you _may_ go is +another question." + +Sally did not smile. "Well, then, may I? Have you any objection? Will +you let me go?" + +"That is a matter which deserves more consideration. Why do you wish +to go?" + +"Only because mother wants me to," Sally answered. "I like to please +mother." + +"Oh," said the professor. "Ah! And what, if I may ask, are your own +inclinations in the matter?" + +"Well," replied Sally slowly. "I--it doesn't seem to me that it would +be very interesting to go there just because a lot of other children +go. I could have a lot better time playing by myself. That is, I--of +course, there's Henrietta, but Margaret Savage is stupid. But," she +added hastily, "I do want to go because mother wants me to." + +"Oh," the professor remarked, with a slight smile of amusement; "so +Margaret Savage is stupid. But why didn't your mother ask me herself?" + +"Perhaps she was afraid to," Sally said quietly. "I don't know what +the reason was." + +"But you think it was that she was afraid to." The smile on his face +changed imperceptibly. The change made it a sneer. It is astonishing +to see how much a slight change can accomplish. "Perhaps you know why +she was afraid?" + +"Yes," Sally acknowledged, "perhaps I do." + +"Well, would you be good enough to give me the benefit of your ideas +on that subject?" + +Sally flushed a little, but she did not falter in the directness of +her gaze any more than in her speech. "You generally make her cry when +she asks you for anything." + +The professor flushed in his turn. "Indeed!" said he. "A most +observing child! A very observing child, indeed. And so your mother +sent you in her place." + +"She didn't," said Sally impassively, although with a rising color; +"she doesn't know anything about my coming." + +"Oh!" remarked the professor reflectively. "So you came on your own +hook--off your own bat." + +She nodded. + +There was a long silence while Professor Ladue drummed on the table +with his fingers. Sally waited. + +At last he turned. "Sally," he said, with a slight return of that +gayety he had shown on her entrance, "the high courage of Miss Sally +Ladue shall receive the reward which it deserves. It is not fitting +that it should not. Bearding the lion in his den is nothing to it. I +am curious to know, Sally, whether you--" But there the professor +stopped. He had been about to ask his daughter, aged ten, whether she +was not afraid. He knew that she was not afraid. He knew that, if +there was some fear, some hesitation, some doubt as to the exact +outcome of the interview, it was not on Sally's part. + +Sally was waiting for him to finish. + +"Well, Sally," he continued, waving his hand airily, "make your +arrangements. Miss Ladue is to go to dancing-school and dance her feet +off if she wants to. Never mind the price." He waved his hand again. +"Never mind the price. What are a few paltry dollars that they should +interfere with pleasure? What is money to dancing?" + +Sally was very solemn. "I think the price is ten dollars," she said. + +Professor Ladue snapped his fingers in the air. "It doesn't matter. +Poof! Ten dollars or ten hundred! Let us dance!" + +Sally's eyes filled, but she choked the tears back. + +"Thank you, father," she said gently. "Mother will be glad." + +He rose and bowed, his hand on his heart. "That is important, of +course." + +"I think it is the only important thing about it," Sally returned +promptly. + +The professor bowed again, without reply, and Sally turned to go. + +It may have been that the professor's heart smote him. It may have +been that he had been aware of Sally's unshed tears. It may have been +that he regretted that he should have been the cause--but I may be +doing him an injustice. Very likely he was above such things as the +tears of his wife and his daughter. It is quite possible that he was +as proud of his ability to draw tears as of his ability to draw, +correctly, a bone that he never saw. Whatever the reason, he spoke +again as Sally was opening the door. + +"Will Miss Ladue," he asked, with an elaborate politeness, "honor my +poor study with her presence when she has more leisure? When she has +not Charlie on her mind? We can, if she pleases, go farther into the +matter of lizards or of coal trees." + +"Thank you, father," Sally replied. + +Professor Ladue was conscious of a regret that she spoke without +enthusiasm. But it was too much to expect--so soon. + +"I shall be pleased," he said. + +An idea, which seemed just to have occurred to Sally, made her face +brighten. The professor noted it. + +"And can--may I bring Henrietta?" + +"Bring Henrietta!" cried the professor. "That is food for thought. Who +is this Henrietta? It seems to me that you mentioned her once before." + +"Yes," said Sally eagerly. "I did. She is Henrietta Sanderson and Fox +Sanderson is her brother. He came to see you the other day. You +weren't at home." + +"Fox Sanderson!" + +"Yes," said Sally, again; "and when I told him that you weren't at +home, he came over the wall. He brought Henrietta. He knows a lot +about sauruses." + +"He knows a lot about sauruses, does he?" the professor repeated +thoughtfully. "It seems to me that I have some recollection of Fox +Sanderson." + +He turned and rummaged in a drawer of his desk. He seemed unable to +find what he was looking for, and he extracted from the depths of the +drawer many empty cigarette boxes, which he cast into the grate, and a +handful of papers, which he dumped on the top of the desk, +impatiently. He sorted these over, in the same impatient manner, and +finally he found it. It was a letter and was near the bottom of the +pile. He opened it and read it. + +"H-mph!" he said, reading, "Thanks me for my kind permission, does he? +Now, Miss Ladue, can you give me any light upon that? What permission +does he refer to? Permission to do what?" + +Sally shook her head. But her father was not looking. + +"Oh," he said; "h-m. I must have said that I'd see him." He read on. +"I must even have said that he could study with me; that I'd help him. +Very thoughtless of me, very thoughtless, indeed! It must have been +after--well. And he will be here in the course of three weeks." The +professor turned the leaf. "This was written a month ago. So he's +here, is he, Sally?" + +"Yes," Sally answered, "he's here." + +The professor stood, for a few moments, looking at Sally, the slight +smile on his lips expressive of mingled disgust and amusement. + +"Well," he observed, at last, "it appears to be one on me. I must have +said it. I have a vague recollection of something of the kind, but the +recollection is very vague. Do you like him, Sally?" + +"Oh, yes." Sally seemed to feel that that was too sweeping. "That is," +she added, "I--I like him." + +Professor Ladue laughed lightly. Sally laughed, too, but in an +embarrassed fashion. + +"That is satisfactory. You couldn't qualify it, Sally, could you? +Tried hard, didn't you?" + +Sally flushed. + +"Well," continued the professor, "if you chance to see this Fox +Sanderson, or any relative of his, will you convey to him my deep +sense of pleasure at his presence? I shall be obliged to Miss Ladue if +she will do that." + +"I will," said Sally gravely. + +Professor Ladue bowed. So far as he was concerned, the interview was +closed. So far as Sally was concerned, it was not. + +"Well?" asked Sally. "May I bring Henrietta? You haven't answered that +question, father." + +"Dear me! What an incomprehensible omission! I must be getting old and +forgetful. Old and forgetful, Sally. It is a state that we all attain +if we do not die first." + +"Yes," said Sally, "I suppose so. May I bring Henrietta, father?" + +Professor Ladue laughed shortly. "What a persistent child you are, +Sally!" + +"I have to be," she replied, trying not to show her disappointment. "I +suppose you mean that you don't want me to bring Henrietta. Well, I +won't. Perhaps I may come in some day and hear about the lizard." + +He did what he had not expected to do. "Oh, bring her, by all means," +he cried, with an assumed cheerfulness which would not have deceived +you or me. It did not deceive Sally. "Bring her." He waved his hand +inclusively. "Bring Henrietta and Margaret Savage and any others you +can think of. Bring them all. I shall be pleased--honored." And again +he bowed. + +Sally was just opening the door. "Margaret Savage would not be +interested," she said in a low voice, without turning her head, "and +there aren't--" + +"Sally," the professor interrupted in cold exasperation, "will you be +good enough to project in my direction, what voice you think it best +to use, when you speak to me? Will you be so kind? I do not believe +that I am growing deaf, but I don't hear you." + +Sally turned toward him. "Yes, father, I beg your pardon. I said that +Margaret Savage wouldn't be interested," she repeated quietly and +clearly, "and that there aren't any others." + +He made an inarticulate noise in his throat. Sally was on the point of +shutting the door. + +"Sally!" he called. + +The door opened again just far enough to show proper respect. "Yes, +father?" + +"Would your friend Henrietta really be interested in--in what she +would probably hear?" + +The door opened wider. "Oh, yes, she would. I'm sure she would." There +was a note of eagerness in Sally's voice. + +"Well, then, you may bring her. I shall be glad to have you both when +you find leisure. But no Margaret Savages, Sally." + +"Oh, no, father. Thank you very much." + +After which Sally shut the door and the professor heard her running +downstairs. He seemed pleased to hear the noise, which really was not +great, and seated himself at his desk again and took up his drawing. + +And Sally, when she had got downstairs and out of doors, found her +exhilaration oozing away rapidly and a depression of spirit taking its +place. The interview, on the whole, had been well calculated--it may +have been carefully calculated--to take the starch out of a woman +grown. Professor Ladue had had much experience at taking the starch +out of others. And Sally was not a woman grown, but a child of ten. +Her powers of resistance had been equal to the task imposed, +fortunately, but she found that the exercise of those powers had left +her weak and shaky, and she was sobbing as she ran. If the professor +had seen her then,--if he had known just what her feelings were as she +sobbed,--would he have been proud of his ability to draw tears? I +wonder. + +"Anyway," Sally sobbed, "I know how he makes mother feel. I know. Oh, +mother, mother! But I'll never give in. I won't!" + +She stopped her convulsive sobbing by the simple process of shutting +her teeth over her lower lip, and she dashed away the tears from her +eyes as she ran toward the captive alligator, whose continuous roar +was growing in her ears. The roar was one of rage. + +"Oh, dear! I left him too long." + +And Sally ran up to find Charlie fumbling at the knot of the rope by +which he was tied. He cried out at her instantly. + +"Sally! Don't _want_ to be tied any more. _Aren't_ an alligator. I'm a +little boy. Don't want to be tied like an old cow." + +Sally hastily untied him, comforting him, meanwhile, as well as she +could. But Charlie, noticing something unusual in her voice, looked up +into her face and saw traces of tears. He immediately burst into tears +himself. + +"Charlie!" cried Sally, fiercely; "Charlie! Laugh, now! Laugh, I tell +you." She glanced over the wall. "Here come Fox Sanderson and +Henrietta. Laugh!" + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Sally always remembered that winter, a winter of hard work and growing +anxiety for her, enlivened by brief and occasional joys. She got to +know Fox and Henrietta very well, which was a continual joy and +enlivenment. Sally did not count dancing-school among the +enlivenments. And the infrequent lessons with Fox and Henrietta and +her father were enlivenments, too, usually; not always. After the +times when they were not, Sally wanted to cry, but she didn't, which +made it all the harder. + +Her mother seemed steadily progressing toward permanent invalidism, +while her father was doing much worse than that. And she took more and +more of the burden of both upon her own small shoulders. Poor child! +She should have known no real anxiety; none more real than the common +anxieties of childhood. But perhaps they are real enough. Sally was +not eleven yet. + +It is hard to say whether her mother or her father caused Sally the +more anxiety. Her mother's progress was so gradual that the change +from day to day--or from week to week, for that matter--was not +noticeable; while her father's was spasmodic. Sally did not see him +during a spasm, so that she did not know how noticeable the change was +from day to day or from hour to hour. We do not speak of weeks in such +cases. But it was just after a spasm that he was apt to make his +appearance again at home in a condition of greater or less +dilapidation, with nerves on edge and his temper in such a state that +Mrs. Ladue had grown accustomed, in those circumstances, to the use of +great care when she was forced to address him. Lately, she had avoided +him entirely at such times. Sally, on the contrary, made no effort to +avoid him and did not use great care when she addressed him, although +she was always respectful. This course was good for the shreds of the +professor's soul and perhaps no harder for Sally. But that was not the +reason why she did it. She could not have done differently. + +There was the time in the fall, but that was over. And there was the +time at Christmas which Sally nipped in the bud. Following the +Christmas fiasco--a fiasco only from the point of view of the +professor--was the Era of Good Behavior. That is begun with capitals +because Sally was very happy about her father during that era, +although her mother's health worried her more and more. Then there was +the time late in the winter, after her father had broken down under +the strain of Good Behavior for two months; and, again, twice in +March. Professor Ladue must have been breaking rapidly during that +spring, for there came that awful time when it seemed, even to Sally, +as if the bottom were dropping out of everything and as if she had +rather die than not. Dying seems easier to all of us when we are +rather young, although the idea does not generally come to us when we +are ten years old. But it must be remembered that Sally was getting +rather more than her fair share of hard knocks. Later in life dying +does not seem so desirable. It is a clear shirking of responsibility. +Not that Sally ought to have had responsibility. + +The time at Christmas happened on the last day of term time; and, +because that day was only half a day for the professor and because +Christmas was but two days off, Sally had persuaded her mother to take +her into town. "Town" was half an hour's ride in the train; and, once +there, Sally intended to persuade her mother further and to beard her +father in his laboratory and to take him for an afternoon's Christmas +shopping; very modest shopping. Whether Mrs. Ladue suspected the +designs of Sally and was sure of their failure, I do not know. Sally +had not told her mother of her complete plans. She was by no means +certain of their success herself. In fact, she felt very shaky about +it, but it was to be tried. Whatever her reason, Mrs. Ladue consented +with great and very evident reluctance, and it may have been her dread +of the occasion that gave her the headache which followed. So Sally +had to choose between two evils. And, the evil to her father seeming +the greater if she stayed at home with her mother, she elected to go. + +She disposed of Charlie and knocked softly on her mother's door. There +was a faint reply and Sally went in. The shades were pulled down and +the room was rather dark. Sally went to her mother and bent over her +and put her arms half around her. She did it very gently,--oh, so +gently,--for fear of making the headache worse. + +"Is your head better, mother, dear?" she asked softly. + +Mrs. Ladue smiled wanly. "Having my dear little girl here makes it +better," she answered. + +"Does it, mother? Does it really?" The thought made Sally very happy. +But then it suddenly came over her that, if she carried out her plans, +she could not stay. She was torn with conflicting emotions, but not +with doubts. She had considered enough and she knew what she intended +to do. She did not hesitate. + +"I'm very sorry, mother, dear, that I can't stay now. I'll come in +when I get back, though, and I'll stay then, if it isn't too late and +if you want me then. I truly will. I love to." + +"Is it Charlie, Sally? You have too much of the care of Charlie. If I +weren't so good for nothing!" + +"I've left Charlie with Katie, and he's happy. It's father. I think +I'd better go in and meet him. Don't you think I'd better?" + +The tears came to Mrs. Ladue's eyes. "Bless you, dear child! But how +can you, dear, all alone? No, Sally. If you must go, I'll get up and +go with you." + +"Oh, mother, you mustn't, you mustn't. I can get Fox to go with me. I +know he will. I promise not to go unless I can get Fox--or some +one--to go." + +"Some grown person, Sally?" Mrs. Ladue asked anxiously. + +"Yes," answered Sally, almost smiling, "some grown person. That is," +she added, "if you call Fox Sanderson a grown person." + +"Fox Sanderson is a dear good boy," replied Mrs. Ladue. "I wish you +had a brother like him, Sally,--just like him." + +"I wish I did," said Sally, "but I haven't. The next best thing is to +have him just Fox Sanderson. Will you be satisfied with him, mother, +dear,--if I can get him to go?" + +Again Mrs. Ladue smiled. "Quite satisfied, dear. I can trust you, +Sally, and you don't know what a relief that is." + +"No," said Sally, "I s'pose I don't." Nevertheless she may have had +some idea. + +That thought probably occurred to her mother, for she laughed a little +tremulously. "Kiss me, darling, and go along." + +So Sally kissed her mother, tenderly and again and again, and turned +away. But her mother called her back. + +"Sally, there is a ticket in my bureau, somewhere. And, if you can +find my purse, you had better take that, too. I think there is nearly +two dollars in it. It is a pretty small sum for Christmas shopping, +but I shall be glad if you spend it all." + +Sally turned to kiss her mother again. "I shan't spend it all," she +said. + +She rummaged until she found the ticket and the purse; and, with a +last good-bye to her mother, she was gone. Mrs. Ladue sighed. "The +darling!" she said, under her breath. + +Sally met Fox and Henrietta just outside her own gate. "Oh," she +cried, "it's lucky, for you're exactly the persons I wanted to see." + +Henrietta looked expectant. + +"Well, Sally," Fox said, smiling, "what's up now?" + +"I'm going to town," Sally answered, less calmly than usual. She laid +her hand on his arm as she spoke. "That is, I'm going if I can find +somebody to go with me." + +Fox laughed. "Is that what you call a hint, Sally? Will we do?" + +"It isn't a hint," said Sally, flushing indignantly. "That is,--it +wasn't meant for one. I was going to ask you if you had just as lief +go as not. I've got a ticket and there are--let's see"--she took out +her ticket and counted--"there are seven trips on it. That's enough. +Would you just as lief?" + +"I'd rather," replied Fox promptly. "Come on, Henrietta. We're going +to town." He looked at his watch. "Train goes in fourteen minutes, and +that's the train we take. Step lively, now." + +Henrietta giggled and Sally smiled; and they stepped lively and got to +the station with two minutes to spare. Fox occupied that two minutes +with a rattle of airy nothings which kept Sally busy and her mind off +her errand; which may have been Fox's object or it may not. For Sally +had not told her errand yet, and how could Fox Sanderson have known +it? When they got into the car, Sally was a little disappointed +because she had not been able to tell him. She had meant +to--distinctly meant to during that two minutes. + +She had no chance to tell him in the train. The cars made such a noise +that she would have had to shout it in his ear and, besides, he talked +steadily. + +"I'll tell you what," he said, at the end of a stream of talk of which +Sally had not heard half. "Let's get your father, Sally, and take him +with us while you do your errands, whatever they are. He'll be through +in the laboratory, and we'll just about catch him." + +"All right," Sally murmured; and she sank back in her seat +contentedly. + +She had been sitting bolt upright. She felt that it was all right now, +and she would not need to tell Fox or anybody. She felt very grateful +to him, somehow. She felt still more grateful to him when he let the +conductor take all their fares from her ticket without a protest. Fox +was looking out of the window. + +"It looks as if we might have some snow," he remarked. "Or it may be +rain. I hope it will wait until we get home." + +When they got to the laboratory, they found one of the cleaners just +unlocking the door. She didn't know whether the professor had gone or +not. He always kept the door locked after hours; but would they go in? +They would and did, but could not find Professor Ladue. Fox found, on +his desk, a beaker with a few drops of a liquid in it. He took this up +and smelt of it. The beaker still held a trace of warmth. + +"He has just this minute gone," he said. "If we hurry I think we can +catch him. I know the way he has probably gone." + +"How do you know he has just gone?" asked Sally, looking at him +soberly and with her customary directness. "How can you tell?" + +"Sherlock Holmes," he answered. "You didn't know that I was a +detective, did you, Sally?" + +"No," said Sally. "Are you?" + +"Seem to be," Fox returned. "Come on, or we'll lose him." + +So they hurried, twisting and winding through streets that Sally did +not know. They seemed to be highly respectable streets. Sally wondered +where they were going. She wanted to ask Fox, but, evidently, he +didn't want to take the time to talk. Henrietta's eyes were brighter +than usual and she looked from Fox to Sally with a curiosity which she +could not conceal; but Sally, at least, did not notice, and Henrietta +said nothing. + +"There he is," said Fox, at last. + +They had just turned the corner of a street lined with what appeared +to Sally to be rather imposing houses. It was a highly respectable +street, like the others they had come through, and it was very quiet +and dignified. Indeed, there was no one in sight except Professor +Ladue, who was sauntering along with the manner of the care-free. His +coat was unbuttoned and blowing slightly, although there was that +chill in the air that always precedes snow and the wind was rising. +Their steps echoed in the quiet street, and, instinctively, they +walked more softly. Strangely enough, they all seemed to have the same +feeling; a feeling that the professor might suddenly vanish if he +heard them and looked around. + +"Now, Sally," Fox continued, speaking somewhat hurriedly, "you run and +catch him before he turns that next corner. The street around that +corner is only a court with a dozen houses on it. If you don't catch +him before he goes into the house in the middle of that block, give it +up. Don't try to go in after him, but come back. Henrietta and I will +be waiting for you. If you get him, we won't wait. But don't say +anything about our being here unless he asks you. He might not like to +know that I had followed him." + +"But," protested Sally, bewildered, "aren't you going with us? I +thought you were going shopping with us." + +"If we had caught him before he had left the college. Now, it might be +embarrassing--to both your father and to me." + +"But your tickets!" wailed Sally in a distressed whisper. They had +been speaking like conspirators. + +Fox laughed softly. "I have a few cents about me. You can make that +right some other time. Now, run!" + +So Sally ran. She ran well and quietly and came up with her father +just after he had turned that last corner. The professor must have +been startled at the unexpectedness of the touch upon his arm, for he +turned savagely, prepared, apparently, to strike. + +"Father!" cried Sally; but she did not shrink back. "Father! It's only +me!" + +The look in Professor Ladue's eyes changed. Some fear may have come +into it; a fear that always seemed to be latent where Sally was +concerned. His look was not pleasant to see directed toward his own +little daughter. The savage expression was still there, and a frown, +denoting deep displeasure. + +"Sally!" he exclaimed angrily. Then he was silent for a time; a time, +it is to be presumed, long enough for him to collect his scattered +faculties and to be able to speak as calmly as a professor should +speak to his daughter, aged ten. + +"Sally," he said at last, coldly, "may I ask how you came here?" + +"Why," Sally replied, speaking hastily, "I was coming in town, this +afternoon,--I planned it, long ago, with mother,--and--" + +"Is your mother with you?" the professor interrupted. + +To a careful observer he might have seemed more startled than ever; +but perhaps Sally was not a careful observer. At all events, she gave +no sign. + +"Mother had a headache and couldn't come," said Sally quietly. She +must have been afraid that her father would ask other questions. It +was quite natural that he should want to know who did come with her. +So she went on rapidly. "But I thought I'd come just the same, so I +did, and I went to your laboratory, but you'd just gone and I followed +on after and I caught you just as you turned this corner, and now I +would like to have you go down to the shops with me. I want to buy +something for mother and Charlie. Will you go with me, father?" + +The professor did not ask any of the questions that Sally feared. +Possibly he had as much fear of the answers as Sally had of the +questions. So he asked none of the questions that one would think a +father would ask of his little daughter in such circumstances. As +Sally neared the end of her rapid speech, his eyes had narrowed. + +"So," he said slowly, "I gather from what you have left unsaid that +your mother sent you after me." + +There was the faintest suspicion of a sneer in his voice, but he tried +to speak lightly. As had happened many times before, he did not +succeed. + +"She didn't," answered Sally, trying to be calm. Her eyes burned. "She +didn't want me to come. I came on my own hook." + +"It might have been wiser, Sally," the professor observed judicially, +"to do what your mother wished." + +Sally made no reply. She would have liked to ask him if he did--if he +ever did what her mother wished. + +Sally saying nothing and seeming somewhat abashed, the professor found +himself calmer. "So that course did not commend itself to your +judgment? Didn't think it best to mind your mother. And you went to +the laboratory and--who let you in?" he asked suddenly. + +"One of the cleaners." + +"Oh, one of the cleaners. A very frowzy lady in a faded black skirt +and no waist worth mentioning, I presume." The professor seemed +relieved. "And you went in, and didn't find me. Very natural. I was +not there. And having made up your mind, from internal evidence, I +presume, which way I had gone,--but who told you?--oh, never mind. +It's quite immaterial. A very successful trail, Sally; or shall I say +shadow? You must have the makings of a clever detective in you. I +shouldn't have suspected it. Never in the world." + +The professor was quite calm by this time; rather pleased with +himself, especially as he had chanced to remark the tears standing in +his little daughter's eyes. + +"And I never suspected it!" he repeated. Then he laughed; but it was a +mirthless laugh. If he had known how empty it would sound, the +professor would never have done it. + +At his laugh, two of the aforesaid tears splashed on the sidewalk, in +spite of Sally's efforts to prevent. The tears may not have been +wholly on her own account. She may have felt some pity for her +father's pitiful pretense. + +She bit her lip. "Will you go with me now, father?" she asked, as soon +as she could trust herself to speak at all. + +It was always somewhat difficult to account for the professor's +actions and to assign the motive which really guided. The professor, +himself, was probably unaware, at the time, of having any motive. So +why seek one? It need not concern us. + +"Go with you, Sally? Why, yes, indeed. Certainly. Why not?" he agreed +with an alacrity which was almost unseemly; as if he challenged +anybody to say that that was not just what he had meant to do, all +along. "I have some presents to buy--for your mother and Charlie. And +for somebody else, too," he murmured, in a tone that was, no doubt, +meant for Sally to hear. She heard it. + +Sally smiled up at him and took his hand, which she seldom did. It is +true that she seldom had the chance. Then she glanced quickly around, +to see whether Fox and Henrietta were in sight. The street was +deserted. + +Professor Ladue buttoned his coat; but the wind was rising still, and +the chill increasing, and his coat was rather light for the season. +What more natural than that he should wish it buttoned? But Sally +would have unbuttoned her coat gladly. She would not have felt the +chill; and she almost skipped beside him, as they walked rapidly down +toward streets which were not deserted, but crowded with people. As +they went, he talked more and more light nonsense, and Sally was +happy; which was a state much to be desired, but unusual enough to be +worthy of remark. + +They were very late in getting home. With the crowds and the snow +which had begun to fall, there was no knowing what the trains would be +up to. Trains have an unpleasant habit of being late whenever there is +any very special reason for wishing to get in promptly. But I suppose +there is always somebody on any train who has a very special reason +for wishing to get in promptly. There was on this train. Sally had a +bad case of the fidgets, thinking of her mother, who must be waiting +and waiting and wondering why her little daughter didn't come. It +would be bad for her head. The professor, too,--but I don't know about +the professor; he may have been in no hurry. + +When at last they did get home, after a long wade through snow up to +her shoetops, Sally ran up to her mother's room, shedding her wet and +snowy things as she ran. She knocked softly and, at the first sound of +her mother's voice, she went in and shut the door gently behind her. +The room was nearly pitch dark, but she could see the bed, dimly, and +she ran to it and ran into her mother's arms. + +"Bless you, Sally, darling!" Mrs. Ladue cried softly. "You don't know +how glad I am to have you back." + +"I got him, mother, dear," Sally whispered. "I got him. But it was +only by the skin of my teeth." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +If Sally did get the professor only by the skin of her teeth, she had +no need to keep that precarious hold upon him. Providence or the +elements, or whatever you wish to call it, took that matter in hand +and attended to it with the thoroughness usual in cases in which it +undertakes to attend to anything. For Sally awoke the next morning to +find her world bound fast in ice. Every twig bore its load except such +as had refused to bear it. The birches, in scattered clumps, bowed +down to the ground, and the hard crust of the snow was littered with +broken branches. + +Sally stood at her window, looking out. It was beautiful, there was no +denying it; but, as she looked at the birches, every one of them bent +to the ground, with the freshly fallen snow covering it, and its top +held fast under the crust, her lip curled a little. She didn't think +much of a tree which couldn't hold itself up. It seemed to her too +much like saving yourself at the price of your self-respect. Better be +a self-respecting, upstanding tree, even if you did lose an arm or +two; better to go down altogether, if need be, but fighting. Yes, in +spite of their beauty, she despised the birches. And, with some such +thoughts as these, she turned from the window and dressed quickly. + +Nothing came that morning. A horse could hardly get through that crust +with safety to his legs. In consequence, the professor had no cream. +Sally fully expected an outburst of rage, which, with the professor, +took the form of acidly sarcastic remarks. His remarks, while +preserving outward forms of politeness, usually resulted in reducing +Mrs. Ladue to tears as soon as she had gained the seclusion of her own +room. It was not that Professor Ladue held his wife accountable for +such things as heavy snowstorms or sleet-storms--upon full +consideration. Such things are usually denominated "acts of God," and, +in contracts, the contractors are expressly relieved from +responsibility for failure of performance in consequence. The +professor himself, upon full consideration, would have held such +exemption quite proper. But his wife was not a contractor and was +entitled to no such exemptions. A professor was entitled to cream for +his breakfast. + +Sally, coming down with Charlie, found her father eating his breakfast +in solitude and in apparent content, and without cream; certainly +without cream. Mrs. Ladue had not appeared. Perhaps she was tired of +being reduced to tears on such occasions and had more confidence in +Sally than she had in herself. Certainly the professor was less apt to +indulge his taste for acid sarcasm with Sally. There is little +satisfaction to be got out of it when the only effect upon the hearer +is a barely perceptible rise in color and a tightening of the lips. At +all events, he did not do what was expected of him. + +"Good-morning, Sally," he said pleasantly. + +Sally was much surprised. She was so much surprised that the blood +surged into her cheeks in a flood. That was a greater effect than +could have been produced by acid sarcasm in any amount. The professor +might have noted that. Perhaps he did. + +"Good-morning, father," Sally replied, smiling. She hesitated for a +fraction of a second, then, yielding to her impulse, she put her arm +around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. "Good-morning." And she +went quickly to her seat, her cheeks blazing. + +The professor was so astonished at this act of Sally's,--an act as +difficult to foresee and to provide against as an act of God,--he was +so thoroughly astonished, I say, that he spilled some of the coffee +which had no cream in it. But let us hope he would not have wanted to +provide against that act of God. + +"Well, Sally," he said, laughing lightly, "it's surprising to think +what the weather can do when it tries. Only yesterday afternoon, bare +ground and scarcely a hint of what was coming. Now, here we are, tied +up." + +"Tied up?" Sally asked. + +"Tied up," he repeated. "There's little doubt about it. No milkman." +He waved his hand. "And there'll be no grocer and no anybody else. +You'll see. No butcher--meat man--we don't have butchers, now. Just +think of that, Sally. No meat until spring. How will you like that? We +should have been keeping chickens and pigs and we ought to have cows +and a calf or two. Then I would take my axe in my hand and my knife +and I would sally out to the barn. You would hear sounds of murder and +we should have fresh meat. Fresh meat!" The professor looked +ferocious. + +"And no trains," he added meditatively. "I haven't heard a train this +morning and I don't expect to." + +"Well," said Sally, "you don't have to take them. What do you care?" + +"Ah, true," he replied in the same meditative tone. "Very just, Sally. +I don't have to take them, and what do I care? What do I? Answer, +nothing." + +The professor waved his hand again and drank his coffee. An +irrepressible chuckle came from Sally. She said nothing, but waited +for her father to resume. He always did resume when he was in this +mood, which was not often. + +He put down his empty cup. "And what do we do? We finish our +breakfast, which may be a matter of some time, judging from quantity +alone." He pointed to Sally's plate and to Charlie's. Charlie had been +eating industriously ever since he sat down. "We finish our breakfast +and we loaf awhile, and then we bundle up and try to shovel out; you, +Sally, and I and Charlie." + +Here he pointed a finger at Charlie, who emitted a roar of delight. + +"An' can I shovel with my little snow-shovel? Can I?" + +The professor poured for himself another cup of coffee. "You are to +have the felicity of shoveling with your little snow-shovel, Charlie. +See that you do good work with it. And Sally shall take the +_middle-sized_ snow-shovel, and I will take the GREAT BIG snow-shovel." + +Another roar from Charlie, who began to eat faster. + +"This coffee, Sally," continued the professor, "would be better if the +storm had been less severe. But it does very well. It is most +excellent coffee. It is probably better for my health than it would be +with cream. For, do you know, Sally, I am well convinced that cream +with coffee forms quite another substance, which is deleterious to +health and destructive of the ability to sleep, although affecting in +no way the desire to do so. And that, Sally, is most unpleasant." + +Professor Ladue was speaking in his lecture-room voice and very +seriously. Sally was smiling. As he finished, the smile grew into a +chuckle and she choked. Charlie, having taken an extraordinarily large +mouthful, and being diverted from the ensuing process by the choking +of Sally, also choked. + +"Sally," said the professor calmly, "your little brother needs your +attention. He needs it rather badly, it seems to me." For Charlie had +his mouth open and was getting red in the face. + +Sally got up hastily and pounded Charlie on the back. That measure +being ineffective, she shook him violently. He gasped twice. + +"Want to race," he exploded. + +The professor looked surprised. "An eating race, Charlie?" he asked. +"Why, my dear boy, I shouldn't stand a ghost of a chance with you. We +might make it a handicap, but, even then--" + +"Shoveling race," Charlie explained. "You have the great big +snow-shovel an' Sally have the middle-sized shovel an' I have the +little snow-shovel, an' we race to see who can get the most done." + +"Brilliant idea, Charlie, positively glittering," his father +returned. "But it would hardly be fair to start us all from scratch, I +am afraid. Better make it a handicap, eh?" + +"Yes," Charlie replied, not knowing in the least what a handicap was. + +Neither did Sally. "What is a handicap, father?" she asked. + +Her father explained. + +"Oh," she said, approving, "then it makes the race fair, doesn't it? +Every one has as much chance of winning as everybody else. I think +that is nice." + +"It is an attempt in that direction, Sally. But there are many things +about it, about--er--racing--of any kind, that it is just as well you +shouldn't know. So I will not try to explain. If every one concerned +acts fairly, Sally, and with good judgment, it is nice, as you say." + +Sally was not going to be put off. "Why doesn't everybody act fairly?" + +The professor waved his hand and shrugged his shoulders; but before he +could make any other reply, the door opened softly. He welcomed the +opening of the door. It put a stop to Sally's questioning, which was +apt to become embarrassing, in certain cases. + +A glance at Sally's face would have told Professor Ladue who had +opened the door, but it is to be supposed that he knew. Sally jumped +up and ran; and the professor rose--rose with some alacrity--and +turned. + +"Good morning, Sarah," he said pleasantly. "We are all glad to see +you. I hope you are feeling better." + +Mrs. Ladue smiled happily. One would have thought that Professor Ladue +would have tried that manner oftener. It produced much effect with +little effort; but I spoke hastily. I do not know how much effort it +was. + +"Thank you, Charlie--Charlie, dear," she answered, hesitating a +little; "I do feel very much better. I heard all the happy noise down +here and I had to come down." + +"Don't apologize, my dear," he protested; "don't apologize, or we +shall have to believe that you didn't mean to come because you didn't +want to." + +Mrs. Ladue took her seat, but made no reply. There was a faint color +in her cheeks and she looked almost shyly at her husband. Sally was +gazing at her mother, but not in wonder. There was no fathoming Sally. +She reached out and pressed her mother's hand. + +"You look so very pretty, mother," she whispered. + +The color in Mrs. Ladue's cheeks became deeper. "Hush, dear," she +whispered in return. "It must be because I am happy." + +"I wish we could always be happy," Sally whispered again; "all of us." + +There was no way of knowing whether her father had heard these +whispers. He might have heard, but he gave no sign, looking into his +empty cup and playing with the spoon. + +"Sally," he said suddenly, "what do you suppose my little lizard would +have done if he had waked up some morning and found his swamp covered +with this?" The professor waved his hand toward the window. + +Sally was much interested. "Would he have flown away?" + +"Wrong," cried the professor, getting up and walking to the window. +"Guess again." + +Sally gave the question some thought. "I don't know," she said at +last. + +"Wrong again. Next! Charlie!" + +Charlie had his mouth full. He looked up in surprise. "What?" he +spluttered. + +"What would my little lizard have done this morning?" + +Charlie was no Fletcherite. He swallowed his mouthful very nearly +whole. Then he gasped a little which is not to be wondered at. + +"Little lizard would take his little snow-shovel and shovel a great +big place--" he began. Then an idea seemed to strike him and he +stopped with his mouth open. "No," he cried; "little lizard would be +dead." + +"Very possibly, Charlie. That's the nearest answer, so far." The +professor turned and regarded his son curiously. "I should really +like to know how you arrived at that conclusion." + +"Lizard died a long time ago," Charlie answered. "Couldn't wake up +this morning because you've got the bones upstairs." + +The professor laughed. "A very just observation," he remarked. "You +have a logical mind, Charles." + +Charles slid down from his chair. "I'm through my breakfast," he +announced. "Want to shovel." + +"You forget our programme, Charlie," said his father. "We are to loaf +now. It is always best to eat slowly, masticate your food well, +refrain from drinking when you are thirsty, and stand for half an hour +after eating. There are other things which I forget. But we will loaf +now." + +The professor lit a cigarette, after due preliminaries. Mrs. Ladue had +finished, apparently. She had come down rather to enjoy the rare +occasion than to eat. Perhaps it was a knowledge of that fact which +had kept the professor going and a desire--an inexplicable desire--on +his part to keep her in her state of happiness. It was seldom possible +to account for his actions. At all events, he was accomplishing that +end. It was a great pity that his desires did not always run in that +direction. It would have been so easy; so very easy for him, and it +would have made his wife so very happy. But the time when that would +have done any great good may have passed already. + +The professor followed out his programme religiously, talking when he +felt like it, always a pleasant and cheerful flow of irresponsible +talk, and loafing conscientiously for half an hour. Mrs. Ladue sat +still, saying little, afraid to move lest the movement break the +spell. Charlie had slipped out, unnoticed. + +Presently there was a great noise on the cellar stairs, sounding like +distant thunder. The noise stopped for a moment. + +"What's going on?" asked the professor casually. "Socialists in the +cellar? Not that I care," he added, with a wave of his cigarette. +"Mere curiosity. I should be glad to meet any socialists; but not in +the cellar." + +Mrs. Ladue laughed gently. It was a long time since the professor had +heard her laugh. That thought occurred to him. + +"You will, I think. They are opening the cellar door now. There they +come." + +For the noise had resumed, and was approaching along the hall. The +door of the dining-room swung open suddenly and Charlie entered, +earnest and intent and covered with dust and cobwebs. Behind him +dragged three snow-shovels, also covered with dust and cobwebs. + +Sally sprang for him. "Oh, Charlie--" + +He brushed her aside. "I brung your shovel, father," he said, "an' +Sally's. I couldn't lift 'em all at once, an' so I dragged 'em." + +The professor bowed. "So I gathered," he replied. "I thank you, +Charles." + +"But, Charlie," Sally cried, "you're all over dust and so are the +shovels. They ought to have been dusted." + +Charlie had dropped the shovels on the floor, thinking his mission +ended. Now he leaned over and thoughtfully wiped the shovels, one +after another, with his hand. + +"They are," he said, gazing at his grimy hand, "aren't they? But it +was dark an' I couldn't see. Besides, the snow'll clean 'em. I want to +shovel an' race, father," he added, somewhat impatiently. "Isn't it +time yet?" + +"Charlie," said his father, throwing away his cigarette, "in the words +of Friar Bacon's brass head, time is. Come on." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +The next month passed very pleasantly for the Ladues. Sleet-storms +cannot last forever and, the morning after Christmas, Sally heard the +trains running with some regularity. She was anxious accordingly and +she watched her father closely. But he did not seem to care whether +trains ever ran or not. His pleasant mood lasted, too: the mood of +light banter, in which he appeared to care something for his wife and +children; something, if not enough. They were grateful for that +little, although they knew very well that it was but a mood that might +change utterly in five minutes. It did not change for a surprisingly +long time, and Sally almost held her breath at first, while she waited +for it to pass. It would have been a relief--yes, distinctly it would +have been a relief, at first. But that feeling passed, too. + +In short, the professor was good, and Sally was happy. After the +tension of that first expectation was over she was very nearly as +happy as she should have been always. Children have a right to +happiness--to freedom from real worries--as far as we can compass that +end; and Sally had been deprived of her birthright. I wonder whether +the professor had ever realized that; whether he had ever given it a +thought. + +Mrs. Ladue was happy, too, because Sally was happy and because her +husband was kind to her, temporarily. He was not as kind as he might +have been, but then, he might have been so very much worse. He might +have beaten her. He had been accustomed to beat her, figuratively, for +some years. At first, too, her head seemed really better. At the end +of a week of the new order of things, she spoke of it to Sally. She +knew better than to mention the subject of headaches to the +professor. + +Sally was overjoyed. She buried her head in a pillow that happened to +be handy, and wept. A strange thing to do! "Oh, mother, dear!" she +cried. "Oh, mother, dear, if it only will stay so!" + +Mrs. Ladue gathered the child into her arms. "There darling!" she said +softly. "There, my dear little daughter! We'll hope it will." + +But when, at the end of a month, Sally looked back and compared, she +knew that it hadn't. It had been a happy month, though. Fox and +Henrietta had been in every day, and, while Sally played--or was +supposed to be playing--with Henrietta, Fox sometimes sat with her +mother. Mrs. Ladue became very fond of Fox. He didn't talk much, nor +did she. Indeed, Sally thought, in that fit of retrospection, that Fox +had seemed to be watching her mother; at least, occasionally. And Fox, +saying little, saw much. Sally knew. There was no telling how she knew +it, but she did; so she went to him, rather troubled, and asked what +he thought about her mother's health. + +He considered, looking seriously at her for a long time. + +"Well, Sally," he answered at last, "it isn't any better, on the +whole. I should think she ought to consult some doctor about it--some +good doctor." + +"Oh," said Sally in a low voice, "you--I hope you don't think--" + +"I don't think, Sally," Fox interrupted. "I know there is some cause +beyond my limited knowledge, and some one who really knows should see +your mother--if any one really knows. Doctors don't know much, after +all." + +Sally considered, in her turn, for a long time, her eyes searching +Fox's face. + +"Then," she concluded, sighing, "I shall have to speak to father about +it. Well,--I will." + +"That's the best thing to do," he replied. "And, Sally, remember, if +he doesn't receive the suggestion favorably, you are to let me know." + +"He won't," said Sally, with a faint little smile; "that is, he never +did. I let you know now. He may," she added doubtfully. "He has been +nice for a long time." Sally flushed at this implied confession, but +why should she not make it? Fox knew. + +"You try it, Sally, and let me know how you come out." + +So Sally tried it. It may have been a mistake, but how should Sally +have foreseen? It was as likely that, at the worst, she but hastened +her father's action; touched off the charge prematurely. The explosion +would have come. + +There was no beating about the bush. "Father," Sally began soberly, +"don't you think that mother ought to see some good doctor? I do." + +If her heart beat a little faster, as she spoke, there was no tremor +in her voice. + +Professor Ladue looked up. He had been prepared to throw back some +light answer and to see Sally smile in response; perhaps to hear her +chuckle. But, deuce take it, there was no knowing what that confounded +child would say next. It was presuming upon his good nature. It +occurred to the professor that he had been good-natured for an +unreasonably long time. He was surprised and he was annoyed. + +Meanwhile that confounded child was looking at him out of sombre gray +eyes, waiting for his reply. As the professor's look met those eyes, +they seemed to see right through him, and the sharp answer which +trembled on the tip of his tongue was left unsaid. It was astonishing +how often that happened. The professor was aware of it!--uncomfortably +aware--and the knowledge annoyed him the more. The professor was to be +excused. It is most unpleasant to have one's naked soul exposed to the +view of one's little daughter. One's soul needs to be a pretty good +sort of a soul to stand that, without making its owner squirm. And the +professor's soul was--well, it was his; the only one he had. But he +did squirm, actually and in the flesh. + +He tried to speak lightly, but his look shifted. He could not meet +Sally's eyes without speaking the truth. "What is the matter with +your mother, Sally?" he asked. "Stomach-ache or toothache?" + +Sally did not smile. "Her headaches. They are getting worse." + +"Pouf!" said the professor, with a wave of his hand. "Everybody has +headaches. What's a headache?" + +"I don't know," Sally replied, "and she doesn't and I think she ought +to." + +"The definition," remarked the professor coldly, "is to be found in +the dictionary, I have no doubt. You might look it up and tell her." + +"And so I think," Sally continued, as if he had not spoken, "that +mother ought to see a doctor; a doctor that knows about headaches." + +"Oh," said the professor, more coldly than before. "So you would like +to have a specialist called in; a specialist in headaches." + +"I don't know whether that's what you call them," Sally returned +bravely. "If it is, then I would." + +Her father had turned toward her, but he did not look at her. "Most +interesting!" He got a cigarette from the drawer and proceeded to beat +out some of the tobacco. "Doctor--er--what's-his-name, from the +village, wouldn't do, then?" + +"No, he wouldn't." There was just a suspicion of a quiver in Sally's +voice. "He doesn't know enough." + +"Indeed! You have not communicated your opinion of his knowledge, or +his lack of it, to him, I take it?" + +Sally shook her head. She could not have spoken, even if the question +had called for a reply. + +"Do you know what a specialist charges, Sally?" + +She shook her head again. + +"For taking a case like your mother's, Sally," he said slowly, "which +would be nuts to him, I have no doubt, his charge would be more, in a +week, than I could pay in ten years." + +"It is very important," Sally urged. "It is very important for +mother." + +The professor rose. "Much as I regret the necessity, I feel obliged to +decline." He made her a bow. "No specialists for this family. If your +mother feels the need of a physician, let her call Doctor +what's-his-name from the village." + +Sally turned to go without a word. + +"And, Sally," her father added, "be kind enough to tell your mother +that important matters at the college require my attention. She is not +to be alarmed if I fail to come in my usual train. I may be kept +late." + +The phrase sounded familiar. It was the old formula which Sally had +hoped would not be used again. She went out quietly, feeling +responsible. It was absurd, of course, but she could not help it. She +meant to find Fox and tell him; but not quite yet. She couldn't bear +it yet. + +The matters at the college must have been very important, for they--or +something--kept Professor Ladue late, as he had seemed to fear; the +important matters--or something--must have kept him too late for the +last train that night. To be sure, Sally did not know anything about +it, at the time. She had not indulged a hope of anything else, and had +gone to bed and to sleep as usual. For Sally was a healthy little +animal, and she was asleep in a very few minutes after her head had +touched the pillow. Her eyes may have been wet. Mrs. Ladue went to +bed, too. Her eyes were not wet, but there was an ache in her head and +another just above her heart. She may have gone to sleep at once or +she may not. It is conceivable that she lay there, with her two aches, +until after the last train had got in. + +It was the middle of the next forenoon before Sally got a chance to +tell Fox about it; and Fox listened, not too sympathetically. That +seemed to him to be the best way to treat it. He would have made light +of it, even, for Sally was oppressed by the sense of her own +responsibility; but Sally would have none of it. + +"Don't, Fox, please," she said. + +"Well," he replied, "I won't, then. But don't you worry, Sally. We'll +have your mother fixed up, all right, yet." + +"How?" she asked. + +"I haven't decided. But I'm going to bend the whole power of a great +mind to the question. When I've found the best way to do it, I'm going +to do it. You'll see." + +Sally sighed with relief. She had not got beyond the stage of thinking +that Fox could do anything that he tried to do. Perhaps he could. + +They were down by the gate, Fox leaning upon it and Sally standing on +a bar and swinging it gently. Occasionally she looked down the road. + +"Here comes father," she said suddenly, in a low voice. + +"Stay where you are, Sally." Fox checked her impulse to run. + +The professor was walking fast and he came in at the gate almost +immediately. Sally had dismounted. He looked annoyed and would have +passed without a word. + +"Good-morning," said Fox cheerfully. + +The professor turned, giving Fox one of his smiles which was not a +smile at all. If the professor had chanced to turn one of those smiles +upon a too confiding dog, the dog would have put his tail between his +legs and run. Vivisection came after. + +"Good-morning," said the professor acidly. "I shall be obliged to +delay our session for an hour." + +"Very well, sir, whenever it is convenient for you." And Fox smiled +cheerfully again. + +The professor turned once more. His eyes were bloodshot, he was +unshaven, and--well, tousled. In short, the professor looked as if he +had been sitting up all night. He had. + +"You see," said Sally solemnly. Her father was out of hearing, as may +be supposed. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Professor Ladue had had a relapse. There was no doubt about it. It was +rather serious, too, as relapses are apt to be; but what could be +expected? He had been good for a long time, a very long time for him. +It was even an unreasonably long time for him, as had occurred to him, +you will remember, in the course of his conversation with Sally, and +nobody had any right to expect more. What Mrs. Ladue and her daughter +Sally thought they expected was really what they hoped. They did not +expect it, although they thought that they did; and the proof is that, +when the first relapse happened, they were not surprised. They were +deeply discouraged. The future looked pretty black to Sally as she +swung there on the gate. It looked blacker yet when the professor did +it twice again in one month. That was in March. But the worst was to +come. It was lucky that Sally did not know it. It is always lucky that +we do not know, at one blow, all that is to happen to us. Our courage +might not survive that blow. Instead, it has a chance to grow with +what it feeds upon. + +So Sally went her daily round as cheerfully as she could. That was not +any too cheerfully, and her unexpected chuckles became as rare as +roses in December. Even her smiles seemed to be reserved for her +mother and to be tender rather than merry. She watched the progress of +her mother's disease, whatever it was, with solicitude and anxiety, +although she tried desperately hard not to show her mother how anxious +she was. + +Mrs. Ladue's progress was very slow; imperceptible, from day to day, +and she had her ups and downs. It was only when she could look back +for a month or more that Sally was able to say to herself, with any +certainty, that her mother was worse--that the downs had it. But +always, when Sally could look back and compare, she had to confess to +herself that that was so. The headaches were no more frequent nor did +they seem to be harder to bear; but her mother seemed--it was a +struggle for Sally to have to acknowledge it, even to herself--her +mother seemed to be growing stupid. Her intelligence seemed to be +diminishing. What was Fox thinking of, to let that happen? + +When this question presented itself, Sally was again swinging moodily +upon the gate, regarding the muddy road that stretched out before her. +Charlie was playing somewhere behind her, equipped with rubber boots +and a heavy coat. It is to be feared that Sally had forgotten Charlie. +It was not her habit to forget Charlie. And it is to be feared that +she was forgetting that the last day of March had come and that it was +warm and springlike, and that there were a number of birds about. It +was not her habit to forget any of those things either, especially the +birds. There was a flash of blue under a tree near by and, a few +seconds later, a clear song rang out. Charlie stopped his play and +looked, but Sally did not see the blue wings nor the ruddy breast nor +did she seem to hear the song. + +That question had brought her up short. She stopped her rhythmic +swinging to and fro. + +"I'll ask him," she said. Her faith in Fox was absolute. + +She opened the gate quickly, and started to run. + +There was a roar from Charlie. "Sally! Where you goin'? Wait for me! I +want to go, too. I'm awful hot. Can't I take off my coat? An' these +boots are hot. I want to take 'em off." + +Sally sighed and waited. "I'm afraid I forgot you, Charlie. Take off +your coat, if you're too hot, and leave it by the gate." + +Charlie had the overcoat off and he dropped it by the side of the +footpath. + +"Not there, Charlie," Sally said impatiently. "Inside the gate. We +don't leave overcoats by the side of the road." + +"You didn't say inside," Charlie returned sulkily. "I left it where +you said." He opened the gate and cast the offending garment inside. +"And these boots--can I take 'em off?" + +"No," said Sally sharply, "of course not. If your feet are hot they'll +have to stay hot. You can't go in your stocking feet in March." + +"I don't see why not," grumbled Charlie. "I could take my stockings +off, too." + +Sally made no reply to this protest. She took his hand in hers. "Now, +run, Charlie. I'm in a hurry." + +So Charlie ran as well as a small boy can run in rubber boots and +along a path that is just muddy enough to be exceedingly slippery. +When they came to the corner that they had to turn to go to Fox's, he +was almost crying and Sally was dragging him. They turned the corner +quickly and almost ran into Henrietta. + +"Oh!" cried Henrietta, startled. "Why, Sally!" + +Charlie laughed. "Why didn't you go faster, Sally? Then we might have +run into her--plump." + +He laughed again, but got no attention from Sally. + +"Where's Fox?" she asked. + +"He went into town this morning," Henrietta answered. "He told me to +tell you to cheer up. I don't know what it's about, but probably you +do. I was just on my way to tell you. Come on. Let's go back to your +house." + +Sally gave a sigh of relief. Fox had not forgotten, after all. There +was nothing to do but to wait; but Sally was rather tired of waiting. + +"Well, Henrietta," she said, "then we will. But I want to see Fox as +soon as ever I can." + +Fox at that moment was sitting in the private office of a physician--a +specialist in headaches--and was just finishing his story. He had +mentioned no names and it was hardly conceivable that he was talking +about himself. Fox did not look like a person who was troubled with +any kind of aches. + +That seemed to be the opinion of the doctor, at any rate. It would +have been your opinion or mine. + +"I take it that you are not the patient," he said, smiling. + +That doctor was not the type of the grasping specialist; he did not +seem to be the kind of man who would charge as much as a patient would +be likely to be able to pay--all that the traffic would bear. But who +is, when you come to know them? Probably the doctors of that type, in +any large city, could be counted on the fingers of one hand. I know of +one conspicuous example, and one only, and he is dead now. But he +squeezed out large fees while he lived, and became very rich; and he +was so busy with his squeezing that he had no time to enjoy his +gains--I had almost said his ill-gotten gains. But that is by the way. + +This doctor of Fox's--we will call him Doctor Galen, for the sake of a +name--this Doctor Galen was a kindly man, who had sat leaning one +elbow on the table and looking out at Fox under a shading hand and +half smiling. That half smile invited confidence, and, backed by the +pleasant eyes, it usually got it. Whether that was the sole reason for +its being is beside the question; but probably it was not. + +In response to the doctor's remark, Fox smiled, too, and shook his +head. + +"Am I to see this patient of yours?" asked Doctor Galen casually. + +Fox was distinctly embarrassed. "Is it absolutely necessary, Doctor?" +he asked, in return. "It is difficult to arrange that--without a +complete change of base," he added. "It might be done, I suppose, but +I don't see how, at this minute." + +"The only reason that it might be necessary," said the doctor, +speaking slowly, "is that you may have neglected some symptom that is +of importance, while seeming to you to be of no consequence whatever. +It is always desirable to see a patient. I have to take into account, +for example, the whole life history, which may be of importance--and +it may not." + +Fox made no answer to this, but he looked troubled and he drummed with +his fingers upon his knee. + +"Can't we assume the patient to be--merely for the sake of fixing our +ideas--" Doctor Galen continued, looking away and searching for his +example, "well--er--Professor Ladue? Or, no, he won't do, for I saw +him a few days ago, in quite his usual health. Quite as usual." + +"You know Professor Ladue, then, Doctor?" + +"Oh, yes, I know him," the doctor replied dryly. "Well, as I said, he +won't do. Let us suppose that this case were that of--er--Mrs. Ladue." +The doctor looked at Fox and smiled his pleasant smile. "She will +answer our purpose as well as another." + +"Do you know Mrs. Ladue, too?" + +"No," said Doctor Galen. "No, I have not that pleasure. But I know her +husband. That," he added, "may be of more importance, in the case we +have assumed--with the symptoms as you have related them." + +Fox smiled very slightly. "Well, suppose that it were Mrs. Ladue, +then,--as an instance. Assuming that I have given all the symptoms, +what should you say was the matter with her?" + +Doctor Galen did not answer for some minutes. "Well," he said at last, +"assuming that you have given all the symptoms correctly--but you +can't have given them all. I have no means of knowing whether there is +any tendency to hardening of the walls of the arteries. How old is +she?" he asked suddenly. + +Fox was startled. "I'm sure I don't know," he answered. "Say that she +is thirty-odd--not over thirty-five." + +"That is not likely, then," the doctor resumed, "although it is +possible. I should have to see her to be sure of my ground. But, +assuming that there are no complications,--_no_ complications,--there +is probably a very slight lesion in the brain. Or, it may be that the +walls of the arteries in this neighborhood"--the doctor tapped his +head--"are very thin and there is a gradual seepage of blood through +them. To tell the truth, Mr. Sanderson, we can't know very exactly +what is happening until skulls are made of plate glass. But the remedy +is the same, in this case, whatever is happening, exactly." + +"What is the treatment?" + +"Oh," said Doctor Galen, apparently in surprise, "there is no +treatment. In the hypothetical case which we have assumed, I should +prescribe rest--absolute rest, physical and mental. We must give those +arteries a chance, you know; a chance to build up and grow strong +again. There is the clot to be absorbed, too. It is likely to be very +slight. It may be completely absorbed in a short time. Given time +enough, I should expect a complete recovery." + +"How much time?" Fox asked. + +"That depends upon how far she has progressed and upon how complete a +mental rest she can get. It might be any time, from a few weeks to a +few years." + +Fox hesitated a little. "Then, I suppose, any--er--anxiety might +interfere?" + +"Any mental disturbance," Doctor Galen replied decidedly, "would most +certainly retard her recovery. It might even prevent it altogether. +Why, she ought not to think. I hope she has not got so far that she is +unable to think?" + +"No, not yet," Fox sighed and rose. "It's not so simple as you might +suppose. But I'm grateful to you, Doctor. I'll see what can be done +and I may call upon you again." He put his hand to his pocket. "Shall +I pay you now?" + +Doctor Galen smiled as he checked Fox's motion. "Hadn't you better +wait until you get my bill? Yes, wait if you please." + +That smile of Doctor Galen's seemed to envelop Fox in an atmosphere of +kindliness. "You'll send one, Doctor?" he asked doubtfully. + +"How do you suppose, sir," said the doctor, smiling more than +ever,--he seemed really amused, that doctor,--"how do you suppose, +sir, that I should pay my grocer, otherwise? You have put yourself +into the clutches of a specialist, Mr. Sanderson. We are terrible +fellows. You are lucky to escape with your life." + +"Well," Fox replied, laughing, "I thank you again, Doctor, at any +rate; and for letting me escape with my life." + +The doctor let him out by a door that did not open into the outer +office. + +"Let me know how you come on with your schemes," the doctor said. "I +am really interested. And, if you find it possible to give me a +half-hour with your patient, I hope you will do so. It will be much +better. Good-bye, Mr. Sanderson." + +"I will," said Fox. "Good-bye, Doctor." + +The doctor shut the door and touched a button on his desk. He was +still smiling. A nurse appeared noiselessly. + +"A nice boy, that, Miss Mather, and a deserving case," he commented. +"I should be glad to be able to believe that all my patients were as +deserving. But I shouldn't make much," he added. + +Miss Mather smiled, but made no other reply. The doctor was looking +over a little pile of cards. He took up the card from the top of the +pile. + +"Mrs. Van Hoofe, Miss Mather." + +The nurse disappeared as noiselessly as she had come; and the doctor +proceeded to smooth out his smile and to assume a properly sympathetic +expression. Mrs. Van Hoofe would, perhaps, help him with his grocer's +bills. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +Fox was not immediately able to compass the end that was so much to be +desired, but he did it, at last, not without misgivings. If Professor +Ladue had known, what would he have thought--and said--about such +interference with his domestic affairs? There were misgivings on Mrs. +Ladue's part, too, and Fox had to overcome those. She was in no +condition to combat Fox's wish, poor lady!--especially as it was her +own wish, so far as she had any wish in the matter; and she knew that +Sally had her heart set upon it. This is the way it happened. + +Sally had been regular in her attendance at the dancing-class, all +winter, and she had applied herself conscientiously to learn what she +went to learn, with more or less success. There is no doubt that she +learned the steps, but there is no less doubt that she failed to get +the Spirit of Dancing. Indeed,--I speak with hesitation,--the Spirit +of Dancing is born, not made. And how should Sally get it if she did +not have it already? How should she get it if she did have it already, +for that matter? It is not a thing that can be bought; it resembles +happiness in that respect. And, although one may buy a very fair kind +of an imitation of either, the real thing comes from within. Henrietta +had had the Spirit of Dancing born in her; in regard to Sally there is +some doubt. + +So, if Sally's success was not glittering, it was better than +Henrietta had feared it would be, and she breathed a sigh of relief at +the close of the last day. Sally breathed a sigh of relief, too. She +was unaffectedly glad that it was over. Mrs. Ladue, then experiencing +one of her ups, planned a party for Sally and invited the whole +dancing-class to it. It was to be a birthday party and was to be on +the nineteenth of April, when Sally would have completed her eleventh +year. Sally had always been glad that her birthday happened to come on +the nineteenth of April, for it was a great help in remembering +Leading Dates in American History--or one of them, at least. + +They neglected to apprise the professor of the plan, no doubt through +forgetfulness. For, how could he fail to be pleased that his daughter +was to have a birthday party? He did not find it out until the +seventeenth, two days before the event, and then only through the +inadvertence of the caterer, who asked him some question about it. The +caterer was a new man. He had been employed by Mr. Sanderson. Upon +hearing this announcement and without giving the man any reply to his +questions, Professor Ladue rushed off to town. He did not even leave +word, at home, that Mrs. Ladue must not be alarmed if he failed to +make his train. Fox happened to see him walking to and fro on the +station platform, evidently fuming, and to guess where he was going +and why. + +We may be very sure that Fox did not tell Mrs. Ladue, but she found it +out the next morning and immediately proceeded to have a down. The up +having had its turn, the down was due, of course, but it was a very +bad down. Fox telephoned for Doctor Galen. + +Doctor Galen came out that afternoon. Sally had not been told, but she +knew, somehow, and she was waiting for him by the gate. + +"Doctor," she said, "will you let me get you anything that you want +and--and wait on mother? Will you?" + +The doctor smiled down at her. "Why, my dear little girl--" he began, +looking into the earnest gray eyes. He did not finish as he had +intended. "I thank you," he said. "If I need anything, you shall get +it for me. And you shall wait upon your mother to your heart's +content. But I can't tell how much waiting upon she will need until I +have seen her." + +"Thank you!" Sally cried softly. "I'm glad. I'll take you to mother." +They started towards the house together. "Oh, I forgot," she added, +turning toward him. "I'm Sally Ladue." + +The doctor smiled down at her once more. "I gathered as much," he +replied, "putting this and that together. I guess that your mother and +your father are proud of their little girl." + +"I don't think that father is," Sally returned soberly. + +The doctor's eyes twinkled. "Why, that would be very strange. By the +way, where is your father? In town, at the college?" + +Sally flushed to the roots of her hair. "I think he is in town," she +answered, looking carefully straight before her. + +"Of course, he must have classes." The doctor had noted that fiery +flush and had drawn his inference. "One would think," he continued, +more to himself than to Sally, "that--er--one would think--" It was +none of his business, he reflected, and he could not see, for the life +of him, how--"Which is your mother's room, Sally?" + +They were just entering the house and the doctor was pulling off his +gloves. + +"Oh, I'll take you up." + +Doctor Galen came out after about half an hour. "Now, Sally," he said +cheerfully, "we'll have her all right again, in time. It may take +quite a long time, so don't you get impatient if it seems slow, will +you, Sally?" + +"I'll try not to." Her lip quivered and she began to sob. + +"I'm c--crying bec--cause I'm g--glad." Then her sobs stopped suddenly +and she looked up at the doctor; but the tears rolled down her cheeks. +"Mother can't hear me?" + +"No, you blessed child. You come with me, Sally, and cry as much as +you like. It'll do you good. And I'll stay until you get through." + +So it happened that Fox found them behind a big tree, out of sight +from the house, Sally contentedly crying into the doctor's coat. +Henrietta had gone on. + +"She's all right, Mr. Sanderson. It has done her good to cry. I think +she's about through, now." + +Sally stopped crying and smiled at them both. "I'm so glad, Fox," she +said. + +Fox looked inquiringly at the doctor. "Your opinion, then, is that she +will get well?" + +"Yes, if there are no complications. I shouldn't expect any." + +Sally, who had been waiting, apparently, to hear the doctor say this +once more, murmured something about her mother and started for the +house, running. She overtook Henrietta. + +"Sally," continued the doctor, "seems to be a dear child--" + +"She is." + +"And her father seems to be--well, it isn't necessary for us to say +what." + +Fox laughed. + +"There is only one thing--only one which looms up plainly. You and I +have got to think of some way to get Mrs. Ladue away from her present +surroundings. It would answer the purpose quite as well--perhaps +better," the doctor added thoughtfully,--"if her husband could be +removed from the environment. I am speaking rather plainly." + +Fox nodded. "I understand," he said. "It is not impossible that +Providence and Professor Ladue, working together, may accomplish that. +I don't know how," he admitted, seeing the question in the doctor's +eyes, "but I think there is going to be an explosion in that college, +some day, soon. Professor Ladue--" + +"Pig!" murmured Doctor Galen, under his breath. + +"Had better look out," Fox finished. "By the way, Doctor, shall we +have the party that we had planned for to-morrow--Sally's birthday--or +had we better call it off?" + +"If you can keep them out of the house," answered the doctor slowly, +"and if they don't make too much noise, I see no objection to it. Mrs. +Ladue will probably sleep through it. I have left a mild +sleeping-potion--I want to keep her dozing, at any rate, for some +days. Arrangements all made, I suppose?" + +"They can be unmade easily enough." + +"No, no. It isn't worth while. Let Sally have her party. I'll come to +it, myself. You tell her so, will you, Mr. Sanderson?" + +So Sally had her party. The knowledge that she had it was some comfort +to Mrs. Ladue, who, in her comfortable, half-asleep condition, was +dimly conscious--and glad--that her illness had made no difference in +the plans for Sally. And Doctor Galen had come; ostensibly to the +party. To be sure, he spent more than half the time with Mrs. Ladue, +mounting the stairs silently, once in a while. Then, if she was +sleeping, he would stand and watch her, observing every movement, +voluntary and involuntary. They all meant something to him; most of +them told him something. If she was not sleeping, she would open her +eyes and smile vaguely, being still in that comfortable, dozing state +when nothing seems to matter much. Then the doctor would enjoin +silence by raising his hand, and she would smile again and close her +eyes while he took a turn about the room, quietly, but not so quietly +as to make his patient nervous. + +It was fortunate that the day was pleasant and warm, for that made it +possible to spread the table at some distance from the house, where +the noise would not disturb Mrs. Ladue. Doctor Galen leaned against a +tree and looked on at the happy crew. When they seemed to be about +through their eating and talking, he beckoned to Sally, who came to +him at once. + +"I must go now, Sally," he said. "Your guests will be going pretty +soon, I suppose. You won't let them make too much noise near the +house?" + +"Why," Sally asked, startled, "is mother--" + +"Your mother is doing just what I want her to do," the doctor +replied, interrupting her. "She is doing very well, indeed. It's only +a precaution, my dear little girl. I don't want you to worry, Sally. +I'll look out for your mother. You needn't do anything but follow the +directions I gave you. You can do that easily. And don't worry, Sally, +whatever happens." + +The quick tears had rushed to Sally's eyes as Doctor Galen spoke. "Oh, +yes, indeed, I can," she said, "and I won't." This speech was not as +clear as it might have been, and Sally realized it. "Oh, I mean--" + +"I know what you mean," the doctor returned, patting her shoulder. +"You're a good girl, Sally. Now, I must go." + +When the doctor went out at the gate, a few minutes later, he was +smiling. I don't know what he was smiling at, but it may have been at +the recollection of a kiss which Sally had just bestowed upon him. It +had taken him somewhat by surprise. It had been almost as much of a +surprise to Sally. + +"Well," he said to himself, "that was pretty good pay, considering. +But it's just as well that the Mrs. Van Hoofes don't--Hello!" + +For there, before him, was Professor Ladue, walking rapidly, his eyes +red and bloodshot, and looking generally tousled. The doctor glanced +at him, took in these details, and decided quickly that it would be +wiser not to speak. Accordingly, he passed the professor with no more +than a bow. The professor glared at him, bowed shortly, then half +turned. + +"A lovely spring afternoon, Doctor," he said, clearly and coldly, with +the grimace which did duty for a smile. It was even less like one than +usual. + +"Charming!" the doctor replied. + +"I should not suppose," continued the professor, almost snarling, +"that a man of your engagements would have time for profitless +excursions into the country." + +"Ah," the doctor returned, smiling, "but it was not profitless. I +have been to a birthday party; the party of Miss Sally Ladue." + +What reply should the professor have made to that? The professor, at +least, did not know. He turned, again, without a word. + +Doctor Galen looked after him, still smiling. Then he, too, turned +again. "I am sorry for Sally," he murmured, sighing. "But Sanderson is +there. He must get her out of it somehow." + +Sanderson could not get her out of it, as it happened. The little +bunch of guests was halfway down the walk, laughing and talking; even +Sally laughed a little, although she did not talk much, and her eye +was alert for anybody who might come in at the gate. She hoped, +fervently, that nobody would come in at that gate until the girls were +out of it and safe at home. Then her father emerged from behind the +screen of bushes along the wall and swung the gate wide. + +Sally gave one look. "Oh, Fox!" she cried. + +But Fox had seen and had run forward. + +"Why such haste, Mr. Sanderson?" sneered the professor. "Why such +haste? I require no assistance." + +He went on toward the house, smiling at the girls as he passed. The +way opened quickly before that smile of the professor's, and the +laughter and the talk died. The effect was astonishing. And while he +made his way rapidly onward, closely followed by Fox, the group of +Sally's guests fairly melted away. Once outside the gate, and behind +the sheltering screen, they ran. + +Sally met Fox just coming out. + +"It's all right, Sally," he said. "I persuaded him that no noise is to +be made. I persuaded him." + +Sally looked at Fox in wonder. "It didn't take long." + +"No, it didn't take long." There were curious firm lines about Fox's +mouth and his voice was not quite steady. What the nature of the +persuasion was, which was so effective and in so short a time, Sally +was not likely to know. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Professor Ladue was rather more out of sorts with the world in general +than was usual on such occasions. He was very much out of sorts with +the world in general and with three of its inhabitants in particular: +with his wife, because he was unable, for reasons which Fox had made +clear to him in a very short time, to wreak his ill temper upon her; +with Fox, because he had succeeded so well in making those reasons +clear; and with Doctor Galen, because he was sure that the doctor was +attending Mrs. Ladue. Perhaps I should have said that the professor +was out of sorts with four persons in particular. The fourth person +was Sally. It is hard to see why he should have been put out with her, +who had done nothing to deserve it. But she was good and dutiful and +she saw through him clearly enough; and by so doing she kindled in him +a feeling of helpless resentment. + +Of course, we know very well that the professor's behavior was, +itself, the real cause of his feeling. The professor knew that well +enough. He was not dull-witted, whatever else he was. And, because he +knew it, he raged; and, because there was no outlet for his rage, he +raged the more, coldly. Those cold rages of his fairly scared Sally, +and she was not easily scared. + +His rage was not any the less because of a letter that Sally brought +up to him, late in the afternoon. She had shrunk from seeing him, but +the letter was from the college, bearing the university arms in the +corner, and it was for special delivery. So Sally thought that it +might be very important. There was no one else to take it to her +father, so she took it, and, in obedience to his brief command, and +with great inward relief, she tucked it under his door. + +The letter was important, although not in the way that Sally had +surmised. It was from the provost of the university of which the +professor's college was a part, written with the venerable provost's +own hand and apparently in some haste. It stated that Mr. Ladue had, +that very day, been seen, by the provost and by one other member of +the governing body, to issue from a well-known gambling-house. That +fact, coupled with the rumors which had persisted for a year or two +past, made it imperative that Mr. Ladue should appear before the Board +of Governors, at their next meeting, to clear himself; or, if he +preferred, Mr. Ladue might send in his resignation at once, such +resignation to take effect at the close of the college year. + +That was all. One would think that it was quite enough. Professor +Ladue looked up from his brief reading. + +"Ah!" he cried airily. "The honorable provost addresses me as Mr. +Ladue. _Mr._ Ladue. And so I am to appear before the Board of Governors +for the purpose of clearing myself--of what? I am accused of coming out +of a house. After all, it is a very quiet, respectable-looking house, +indeed, in a quiet street, rubbing elbows with other quiet, +respectable-looking houses. Does it happen that the honorable provost +and that other member of the governing body have seen more than the +outside of that house? Do I appear before the Board of Governors? I do +not. And do I send in my resignation like a good little boy? I think +not. The honorable provost is a fool. I will write him a letter and +tell him so." + +So saying, the professor--we may call him the professor for almost the +last time--the professor went to his desk and wrote the letter. He was +in just the mood to write such a letter and it is to be remembered +that he dealt naturally in caustics. Consequently, the letter was an +excellent letter; it was exactly what it was meant to be. It was a +model of its kind. There is little doubt that it was a poor kind and +that it was very unwise to send it. Having been written, it should +have been burned--utterly destroyed. It would have served its purpose +better. But the professor was in no mood to do what was merely wise. +He was pleased with the letter, proud of it. He was so pleased with it +that he read it over three times. Then he laughed and signed it. + +"That will, perhaps, make them sit up. It would give me some pleasure +to be present when he reads it." The professor gazed out into the +great tree, musing pleasantly. "No, it can't be done. It is a matter +of regret that it cannot." + +He sealed the letter and went out, at once, to mail it. He was quite +cheerful as he took his hat and his stick from the rack in the hall; +so cheerful that Charlie, who happened to catch sight of him, was +encouraged to hail him. He answered pleasantly, even buoyantly, so +that Sally was sure that she had been right and that the letter which +she had carried up had been important. + +The cheerfulness of the professor was spurious, but, such as it was, +it lasted, unimpaired, until the letter was posted. The mail was just +going out, and the postmaster, obliging as postmasters invariably are, +held it long enough to slip in the letter to the provost. The +professor saw it go; then doubts began to assail him, and his +cheerfulness ebbed. He stood irresolute until he heard the train. It +was useless to stand irresolute longer. It is always useless to stand +irresolute for any length of time whatever. The professor knew that +very well. With a quick compression of the lips, he turned homeward. +He was no longer cheerful. + +No doubt I was wrong in speaking of him as the professor that last +time. He was, henceforth, to be Mr. Ladue. His professorial career had +been cut off by that letter to the provost as cleanly and as suddenly +as by a sharp axe. That would be true of any college. Mr. Ladue did +not deceive himself about that. There was a need of adjustment to the +new conditions, and he set himself the task of thinking out just what +the new conditions were. He was so busy with his thinking that he +nearly ran into a young man. The young man had just issued from Mr. +Ladue's own gate. But was it his gate? Mr. Ladue happened to have got +to that very matter. There seemed to be a reasonable doubt of it; +indeed, as he progressed farther in his thinking-out process and his +recollection emerged from the fog of habit, there seemed to be no +doubt that it was not his gate at all and that he had been allowed to +think of it as his and to call it his, purely on sufferance. + +For he remembered, with a shock, a thoughtless moment, a moment of +inadvertence,--a moment of insanity,--in which he had made over the +place to his wife, Sarah. He had got into the habit of forgetting all +about it. Now it was necessary that he should get out of that habit. +He had never regretted that act more keenly than at that moment. It +was the act of a madman, he told himself impatiently. + +As these thoughts passed rapidly through his mind, the aforesaid young +man had gone on his way. If he was to speak, he must speak quickly. + +He turned. "Oh, Fox," he said casually, "I am afraid I was rather +abrupt a short time ago. Pray accept my apologies." + +It was a new role for Mr. Ladue. It cost him something to assume it, +but it was necessary to his purposes that he should. This was one of +the new conditions which must be faced. It was an opportunity which +must be seized before it ceased to be. For Fox it was a totally new +experience to receive an apology from a man like Mr. Ladue. The +experience was so new that he blushed with embarrassment and +stammered. + +"Oh,--er--that's all right. Certainly. Don't apologize." He managed to +pull himself together, knowing that what he had said was not the right +thing at all. "And, Professor," he added, "shall we resume our studies +when Mrs. Ladue is better?--when she will not be disturbed?" + +Fox did not know as much about Mr. Ladue's affairs as we know, or he +might not have called him by that title. But yet he might. + +"To be sure," answered Mr. Ladue, apparently in surprise; "why not? +Is she in a condition to be disturbed by such little matters? I had +rather expected to see her, to talk over an important question." If +Fox chose to infer that the important question related to certain +delinquencies of his own, why, let him think so. + +"I am afraid that will be impossible for some time," Fox replied +firmly. "Dr. Galen left instructions that she is, on no account, to be +disturbed. She is not to be compelled to think. It seems to be +important. His instructions were explicit and emphatic on that point." + +"Ah," Mr. Ladue remarked calmly. "So Dr. Galen is running my house." + +"Yes." There was no lack of firmness in Fox's voice, although he was +not flushing now. "Dr. Galen is running your house. That is the +situation exactly." + +"And may I ask," Mr. Ladue inquired coldly,--"may I venture to ask how +it happens that a specialist--one of the most expensive in the +city--is in such a position that he can assume to do so?" + +"Certainly you may. I will try to make it clear that it was necessary, +but it will not alter the situation if I fail. Immediately after your +leaving for town, Mrs. Ladue had one of her attacks. It seemed to +Sally--and to me--essential that she should have expert advice at +once. So--in your absence--I sent for Dr. Galen. I am very glad that I +did." + +"Do you know what his price will be?" + +"I do not. What difference does it make? Mrs. Ladue's life may depend +upon her having the best advice there is to be had." + +Mr. Ladue did not answer immediately. He could not well say to Fox +that that was a matter of less importance to himself than the price +that would be charged. Besides, he was not sure that it mattered to +him what Dr. Galen charged. He had no intention of paying it. They +ought to have known that they could not saddle him with their bills +without his consent. Further than that---- + +"It's all right, of course, Fox," said Mr. Ladue pleasantly, looking +up. "I didn't realize that Mrs. Ladue's condition was serious. Thank +you. Come in as soon as you think it advisable and we will continue +our studies. Good-night." + +"Good-night." Fox turned away with a curious mingling of feeling +toward Mr. Ladue. He could not help feeling grateful to him, yet he +did not trust him. What next? + +That was precisely the question Mr. Ladue was asking himself as he +walked slowly toward the house. What next? It was most unfortunate +that he could not see his wife, most unfortunate. If he could have the +chance to talk to his wife, Sarah, now, he thought he could persuade +her. Give him but five minutes and he was sure he could persuade her. +He would do better to have the papers ready. He wondered whether he +dared; and, for an instant, he entertained the idea of having that +talk, in spite of Fox and of Dr. Galen. He thought upon it. + +"No," he said to himself, "it wouldn't do, under the circumstances. It +wouldn't do. We'll have to give that up." + +Mr. Ladue deserved no credit for deciding to give that up. It is to be +feared that the possibility of evil consequences to his wife, Sarah, +played no part in forcing him to that decision. The important thing is +that he did so decide. In the short time that remained before dinner, +he walked to and fro in his room, thinking hard. He could do that very +well when he applied himself to it. At dinner he was unexpectedly +pleasant, giving Sally a sense of security that was not at all +justified by the event. In that, no doubt, he was doing just what he +intended. + +That evening, having devoted a certain brief time to thinking to some +purpose, he packed his bag and wrote a short note to his wife. It is +immaterial what he said in that note, but he ended it with these +words: "So you may keep your place, madam, and much good may it do +you. In fact, I think that you will have to keep it. You could not +give a good deed or a good mortgage without my signature." It seemed +an entirely uncalled-for evidence of his ill humor. What had Mrs. +Ladue done to deserve it? + +In the morning he came to breakfast as usual, and again he was very +pleasant. Indeed, he was so pleasant that the fact excited Sally's +suspicions. He was not usually so pleasant on the morning after. And +when he had gone to his customary train--carrying a bag, Sally +noted--she found his note, sealed, and addressed, in her father's +well-known scrawling hand, to her mother. She took possession of the +note. Of only one thing was she sure and that was that no note written +by her father--and sealed--was going to be delivered to her mother; at +least, not without advice. + +Later she showed the note to Fox; and he, being as uncertain what +ought to be done as Sally was, showed it to Dr. Galen. They three +decided, much against their will, to see what Mr. Ladue had said. + +"For," Dr. Galen observed, "Mrs. Ladue is not in condition to read a +note of any kind. She will not be in that condition for a week, at +least. It seems to me, Sally, that you should know what your father +says, especially in view of the circumstances. I advise you to open +it." + +"You do it," said Sally. + +So the doctor did it. "Of course," he remarked, as he slid the blade +of his knife under the flap, "if, on glancing at it, I see that it is +improper for me to read, I shall not read it. But if, as I fear--" + +He was reading it. "The cur!" he muttered, as he finished. He handed +it to Fox. "You read it, Mr. Sanderson." + +Fox read it and chuckled. "I ought not to laugh," he explained, "but +it is so--so futile. Delivery to Mrs. Ladue seems out of the question. +And, Sally," he went on, "you shall see this if you want to, but I +wish that you would not want to. Your father has gone, apparently." + +"Yes," said Sally, somewhat puzzled, "I know it; to the university?" + +"Not to the university, I think. He seems to have lit out. He says +something about getting another position suited to him. He says some +other things that it would give you only pain to read." + +Sally's face expressed a curious mingling of anxiety and relief. "I +won't read it if you don't want me to," she said. "But--but what--how +shall we get any money?" + +"Don't you worry about that. We'll manage to raise a few cents when we +need to." + +Fox had said "we" and that seemed to comfort Sally. Fox turned to the +doctor. + +"The environment has taken care of itself," he remarked; and the +doctor smiled. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +It was in all the papers. The honorable provost seemed to wish that +the fact of Professor Ladue's break with the authorities of the +university should be known, and he graciously allowed himself to be +interviewed on the subject once a week. As was to be expected, but one +side of the question was presented in these interviews, but that may +have worked no injury to Mr. Ladue, who received undeserved credit for +his silence. It was just as well. In none of those interviews did the +honorable provost give out the letter that Mr. Ladue had written. That +letter contained certain pointed passages which the press should not +get hold of, if he could help it. Mr. Ladue had some reason to be +proud. + +Then the reporters began to come out to Mr. Ladue's house, in the hope +of an interview with him. They did manage to get a few words with +Sally, but the words were very few and then Fox came in. So it came +about that Fox Sanderson spent most of his time, from breakfast-time +until bedtime, at the Ladues'. Naturally, Henrietta was there, too. +Sally was well content with any arrangement which brought them both +there all the time. + +Those would have been hard times with the Ladues if it had not been +for Fox Sanderson. Mrs. Ladue owned the place, to be sure, but she +owned very little else; hardly more than enough to pay the taxes. And +if Mr. Ladue had been a hard man to extract money from, at least he +had kept the tradesmen satisfied; or, if not satisfied, they were +never sufficiently dissatisfied to refuse to supply the necessities. +It was a different case now, and Sally wondered a good deal how they +contrived to get along. She knew that Fox was managing their affairs, +but things had been going on in this way for a long time before she +got to the point of wondering whether he was supplying the money. She +reached that point at last, and she asked Fox about it. + +She had waited until she got him alone and was sure that they would +not be interrupted. + +"Fox," she asked without preamble, "where do we get our money?" + +Fox was taken by surprise. He had not been expecting any question of +the kind. He found himself embarrassed and hesitating. + +"Why," he answered, not looking at her, "why--our money? Er--what do +you want to know for?" + +Sally was regarding him steadily. "Because," she replied, "I think I +ought to. Where do we get it?" + +"Oh, don't you care, Sally," said Fox carelessly. "We get it +honestly." + +Sally's earnest regard did not waver. "Of course we get it honestly. +But where? I think you ought to tell me, Fox. Do you give it to us?" + +Sally, bent upon the one purpose, had not thought of sitting down. She +stood squarely before Fox, her fingers interlocked before her, and +gazed up into his face. Fox shifted his weight to the other foot as +she asked the question. Then he laughed a little. + +"I give it to you! What an idea!" + +"But do you?" Sally insisted. "You haven't said you don't." + +"Let's sit down, Sally," said Fox, attempting a diversion. "Aren't you +tired?" + +"No, I'm not. But you sit down if you want to. Excuse me for keeping +you standing." + +Fox found a chair and seated himself comfortably. Sally again faced +him, still standing. + +"Aren't you going to sit down?" asked Fox, seemingly surprised. +"Please do. I can't be satisfied to sit, with you standing." He placed +a chair for her. + +"All right," Sally moved the chair around so that she would face him, +and sat down. + +"What a lovely summer day, Sally!" he said. "Isn't it, now?" + +Sally laughed. She would not be diverted. "Yes," she said. "But you +haven't answered my question." + +"Well," asked Fox, sighing, "what is the question?" There seemed to be +no escape. + +"Where do we get our money? Do you give it to us?" + +"But that," he remonstrated, "makes two questions." + +The quick tears rushed into Sally's eyes. "Oh, Fox, won't you tell +me?" + +Fox glanced at her and gave in at once. He told the strict truth, for +nothing less would do, for Sally. He couldn't have told anything else, +with those solemn, appealing gray eyes looking at him. + +"I'll tell you, Sally," he said quickly. "Just trust me." + +Sally smiled. It was like a burst of sunshine. "I do." + +"I know it," he returned, "and I'm proud of it. Well, I have been +advancing what money has been needed for the past three months. You +can't say I've given it to you. I'd rather say us, Sally. So you see, +you can't say I've given it to us, for we--Henrietta and I--have been +here so very much that we ought to pay something. We ought to +contribute. I don't like to call it board, but--" + +"Why not?" Sally asked, interrupting. "Why don't you like to call it +board?" + +"Well," Fox answered, rather lamely, "you don't take boarders, you +know." + +"I don't see," said Sally, brightening distinctly, "I can't see why we +don't--why we shouldn't, if mother's well enough. I've been thinking." + +"But that's just it. Your mother is not well enough for you to take +regular, ordinary boarders. You mustn't think of it." + +"Would you call you and Henrietta regular, ordinary boarders?" Sally +asked, after a few moments of silence. + +Fox laughed. "On the contrary, we are most irregular, extraordinary +boarders. But why, Sally? Would you like to have--" + +"Oh, yes," cried Sally at once. "I should like it very much. But I +don't know whether you would." + +"Yes, I should like it very much, too. But there have seemed to be +certain reasons why it wasn't best to live here." + +"But you live here now," Sally objected; "all but sleeping. We've got +rooms enough." + +"I'll think it over; and, if I think we can come, we will." + +"I hope you will. I should feel comfortabler. Because I don't see how +we can ever pay you back; at any rate, not for a long time. We should +have to wait until I'm old enough to earn money, or until Charlie is. +And I'm four years older." + +Fox smiled at the idea of waiting for Charlie. But Sally went on. + +"And there's another thing. There's Doctor Galen." + +"Oh, so the doctor's the other thing. I'll tell him." + +"The money that we have to pay him is the other thing." Sally was very +earnest. "Will it be much, do you think?" + +"Sally, don't you worry. I asked the doctor just that question and he +told me I had better wait until he sent his bill. He hasn't sent it +yet." + +"Well--will it be as much as a hundred dollars?" + +"It is possible that it may be as much as that." + +"Oh, will it be more?" Sally was distressed. When should she be able +to save--even to earn a hundred dollars. "We can't ever pay it, Fox; +not for years and years." + +Again Fox told her not to worry. She did not seem to hear him. She was +following her thought. + +"And, Fox, if you have to pay it, we shall owe you an awful lot of +money. Have--have you got money enough?" + +Fox Sanderson did not have an "awful lot" of money. That very question +had been giving him some anxiety. But he would not let Sally suspect +it. + +"I guess I'll be able to manage, Sally." + +"I hope so. And I've been thinking, Fox, that I ought to help." + +"Why, Sally, you do help. Just think of the things you do, every day, +helping about your mother, and about the house." + +"Yes," she returned, "but I mean about earning money. Those things +don't earn money. Couldn't I learn typewriting and go into somebody's +office? Or couldn't I teach? Do you have to know a lot of things, to +teach, Fox?" + +Fox smiled. "Some teachers that I have known," he answered, "haven't +known such an awful lot of things. But if you really want to teach, +Sally, you ought to be trained for it. At least," he added, more to +himself than to Sally, "that is the popular opinion." + +Again Sally was distressed. "Do you have to go to college, Fox?" + +"Well," answered Fox, smiling, "not exactly, but something of the +sort. There's a normal school or the training school for teachers, or +whatever they call it." + +"Oh, dear!" Sally wailed. "Everything takes so long! I wanted to do +something right away. Can't you think of anything, Fox?" + +"Not right off the bat. I'll see what thoughts I can raise on that +subject. But if I don't think of anything, would you like to plan to +be a teacher, Sally?" + +"If it would help mother, I would. If that's the best thing we can +think of. I'd do anything to help mother. I'd go out scrubbing or I'd +sell papers or--or anything." + +"Bless your heart!" Fox exclaimed under his breath. "Bless your dear +heart, Sally! You needn't go out scrubbing or washing dishes or +selling papers or anything of the kind. You can do better than that. +And your mother is likely to need your help about as much when you are +fitted for teaching as she does now." + +"Is--isn't mother getting better?" asked Sally, hesitating. + +"Yes," said Fox, "but very slowly; very slowly indeed. Doctor Galen +thinks it will be some years before she is herself again. Think, +Sally, how much better it will be for you to be getting ready. Suppose +she was well now. What would you and she do? How would the conditions +be different?" + +Sally murmured something about taking boarders. + +"Well," Fox observed, "I never have taken 'em and so I have no +experience with that end of it. But Henrietta and I have been boarding +for a good many years now--ever since mother died--and we have seen a +good deal of all kinds of boarders. On the average, they seem to be an +unmannerly and ungrateful lot. Don't you be a party to making 'em +worse, Sally. Don't you do it." + +Sally laughed. + +"Besides," he went on, "it's pretty apt to be humiliating." + +"I suppose that's something unpleasant," Sally said quietly, "and, of +course, it wouldn't be pleasant. I shouldn't expect it to be." + +"I don't believe there's any money in it." + +Sally paused a moment to digest that phrase. Then she sighed. + +"You know more about it than I do. I'll do just what you say, Fox." + +The gate clicked and they both looked around. + +"Here comes Henrietta," said Fox. "Now we'll all go out in the shade +and play. But, Sally," he added hastily, "have you got any rich +relatives?" + +"Rich relatives!" Sally exclaimed. "Not that I know of. Or, wait. +There's Miss Hazen--Martha Hazen. She's a cousin of father's, but I +don't know how rich she is. I've never seen her." + +"Where does she live?" + +"Up in Massachusetts, somewhere. I think she's queer." + +"The queerer the better. Your father's cousin, is she? It wouldn't be +strange. Can you find out where she lives, Sally?" + +Sally thought she could. "And, Fox," she reminded him,--she was afraid +he might forget,--"you see if you can't come here to live. Will you, +Fox?" + +He nodded. Henrietta was at the piazza steps. "I'll ask Doctor Galen +about it." + +"What'll you ask Doctor Galen about, Fox?" inquired Henrietta. "Are +you and Sally talking secrets?" + +"I'll ask the doctor what should be done with a very troublesome +little sister," he answered, smiling at her. + +"You might get rid of her by sending her off to boarding-school," +Henrietta remarked. "Not that she wants to go." + +"No boarding-school for you yet, young lady. There are one hundred +reasons why, and the first is--is so important that the ninety-nine +others don't matter." + +Fox had caught himself just in time. He had intended to say that he +didn't have the money. Well, he hadn't; but he didn't mean to tell +Sally so. + +"I suppose that first reason," said Henrietta, "is that you can't +spare me." + +"Wrong. That is the second. And the third is that you are too young. +Never mind the others. We are going out to play now, Henrietta." Sally +darted into the house. "Where are you going, Sally?" + +"After Charlie," she called softly. "I'll be right back. And let's be +sauruses!" + +"Sauruses it is," Fox returned. "I say, Henrietta, can you climb trees +as well as Sally?" + +"Well, not quite"--hesitating--"but I'm learning." + +"You live in a cave with Charlie," he said decidedly. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +To tell the truth, the question of money had been troubling Fox +somewhat, for he did not have an "awful lot," to use Sally's words. +There was enough for him and Henrietta to live upon in great comfort; +but when the amount which will support two people in comfort has to +take care of five, it needs to be spread pretty thin. To be sure, +there was no particular reason why Fox should have felt obliged to +look out for the Ladues. One wonders why he did it. That question had +occurred to him, naturally, but only to be dismissed at once, +unanswered. He could not leave that little family in their misfortunes +without visible means of support, and that was the end of it. + +These considerations will serve to explain Fox's state of mind: why he +felt it to be necessary to provide for Sally's future; to see to it +that she should have a future of any kind. They may also explain his +inquiries about rich relatives. Not that he had, at the moment, any +definite idea as to his course of action in the event that she had +such desirable and convenient appendages. In fact, it remained to be +seen whether they were either desirable or convenient. And he wished +very much that it might be considered no impropriety for him and +Henrietta to live at the Ladues'. It would simplify many matters. + +Doctor Galen, to whom he spoke, with some hesitation, of this wish of +his, reassured him. + +"I should say that it would be a very wise move," said the doctor, +smiling. "Where is the impropriety?" + +Fox murmured something about Professor Ladue and about his seeming to +take the management of his family out of the professor's hands. He +felt a little delicate about making any further move in the same +direction. + +"Pouf!" the doctor exclaimed scornfully. "Ladue has relinquished all +right to management, and it's a very fortunate thing that he has. Mrs. +Ladue will be very much of an invalid for a number of years, unless +all signs fail. There may be some prying people--but there are always. +You had better tell Sally that you will come at once. I think it most +necessary." + +Fox was distinctly relieved. He went on to tell the doctor of his +conversation with Sally. "And the other children--except +Henrietta--have fought shy of coming to see her since that day of the +party," he continued. "I suppose they were frightened. They have +scarcely been near her. Not that Sally seems to care. I think she is +glad when she thinks of them at all. But she has too much care. She +takes life too seriously. Why, that party was on her eleventh +birthday, and she wants to go out scrubbing or selling papers. +Anything to earn money. We can't let her feel so, Doctor; we just +can't." + +"Bless her!" said the doctor; "of course we can't. She needn't worry +about my bill, and you needn't. Between us, Sanderson, we must look +out for these three babes in the wood." + +"Thank you, Doctor." + +"And, Sanderson," the doctor pursued confidentially, "if you find +yourself short of money,--you might, you know,--just let me know. But +don't tell anybody, or the Assyrians will be upon me, like the wolf on +the fold; and their cohorts won't be gleaming with purple and gold. +Not of mine, they won't." + +Fox laughed. "Thank you again, Doctor. Thank you very much. But I +think I shall be able to carry my end, on that basis." + +Fox did carry his end. He and Henrietta moved to the Ladues' as soon +as they could, Fox into the professor's old room, with the skeleton of +the professor's little lizard on the floor, under the window, and with +the professor's desk to work at. He seemed to have been pushed by +chance into the professor's shoes, and he did not like it, +altogether. He made a faint-hearted protest at the room. + +Sally's eyes filled. "Why, Fox," she said, "it's the best room we've +got. Isn't it good enough?" + +"It's much too good, Sally. I don't expect or want such a good room." + +"Oh, is that all!" Sally was smiling now. "If it's good enough, I +guess you'll have to be satisfied. It's ever so much convenienter to +give you father's room." + +So Fox had to be satisfied. Henrietta had the room next Sally's own. +That arrangement was "convenienter," too. + +One of the first things he did at the professor's desk was to write a +letter to Miss Martha Havering Hazen. Sally had succeeded in finding +her address. + +"She lives in Whitby, Massachusetts," she announced. "I don't know the +name of the street, and I don't know how rich she is." + +With this, the affairs of Miss Martha Havering Hazen passed from +Sally's mind. She had other things to attend to. Fox wrote Miss Hazen +a letter in which he set forth, in a very business-like way, the +plight in which the Ladue family found themselves, his desire, and +Sally's, that Sally's future should be provided for, and the manner in +which it was proposed to provide for the aforesaid future. He finished +with the statement that the funds at his command were insufficient for +all the purposes which it was desired to accomplish, and he inquired +whether she were disposed to give any aid and comfort. Then, having +posted this, he waited for the answer. + +He waited for the answer so long that he began to fear that his letter +might not have reached Miss Hazen; then he waited until, at last, he +was convinced that she never received it, and he had begun to think +that she must be a myth. When he reached this conclusion, he was +sitting on the piazza and Sally and Henrietta and Doctor Galen were +coming up the path together. Sally had her hands behind her. She came +and stood before Fox, her eyes twinkling. + +"Well," she began. + +But Fox would not wait. "Sally," he said, interrupting her, "what +makes you think that Miss Martha Hazen is in existence at all. You've +never seen her. I'll bet there's no such a person and never was. She's +a myth." + +"What'll you bet?" she asked promptly. + +"Anything you like." + +"No, I won't bet, for it wouldn't be fair." This settled it for Sally. +In that respect she was different from her father. She was different +from her father in some other important respects, too. "Which hand +will you have, Fox?" + +"I guess I'd better have both." + +So Sally brought both hands around into view and cast a letter into +his lap. Her eyes danced. "There!" she said. "Now, what'll you bet?" + +Doctor Galen was leaning against the railing and Henrietta could not +keep still. + +"Oh, Fox," she cried, "open it and let's hear what she says. Sally +showed it to us and we know about it." + +"Open it, Sanderson," the doctor put in; "don't keep us all in the +dark. It's suspense that kills." + +So Sanderson opened it and read it. It was not a long letter. + +The others grew impatient. "Come, come," said the doctor, "tell us. It +doesn't matter what you wrote to her. What does she say?" + +"She says," said Fox, smiling, "that, as of course she didn't know me, +she has been obliged to have all my statements investigated. That +accounts for the delay. She has found them all to be true. Gratifying, +isn't it? But the important thing is that she offers to take Sally to +live with her and agrees to educate her properly--if Sally will go." + +They were all very sober and nobody spoke. Sally was solemn and the +tears came slowly. None of them had contemplated this, Sally least of +all. She felt as if there had been an earthquake or some such +convulsion of nature. + +"Well, Sally," Fox went on at last, in a low voice, "it seems to be up +to you. Will you go?" + +"Oh, I don't know," Sally's eyes were wide with anxiety and with +doubt, and the tears dropped slowly, one by one. "How can I, all of a +sudden? It's a tremendous surprise. I don't want to, but if it will +help more than staying at home, I'll go." Suddenly an idea seemed to +have struck her. It must have given her great relief, for the tears +stopped and she looked happy once more. "But," she said eagerly, "how +can I? Who will take care of mother? And what would we do with +Charlie? Really, Fox, I don't see how I can go." + +Strangely enough, Fox seemed to be relieved, too. At any rate, he +smiled as though he were. + +"Sure enough," he replied, "how can you? We might possibly manage +about your mother," he added, with a glance at the doctor, "but +Charlie is a problem." + +Doctor Galen had nodded, in answer to that glance of Fox's. "You +needn't worry about your mother, Sally," he said then. "We would take +good care of her. Do you know that I have a sanitarium for just such +patients? There are nurses and everything to make it convenient. And +there are no bothering children--with their brothers--always +underfoot." As he said that, the doctor smiled and rested his hand, +for a moment, on Henrietta's shoulder. Henrietta turned and laughed up +at him. + +"A base libel," Fox remarked. "But all that doesn't take care of +Charlie." + +"Might farm him out," the doctor suggested. "What do you think of that +idea, Sally?" + +"I don't believe I know what you mean," she answered. "Charlie +wouldn't be much good on a farm, although I suppose a farm would be a +good place for him. Some farms would," she added. + +"It depends on the farm, doesn't it?" said Fox. "It generally does. +But don't you care what the doctor meant, Sally. He didn't mean +anything, probably. We aren't going to farm Charlie out anyway. What +shall I say to Martha? That's the immediate point." + +Sally chuckled. "I'll write to Martha," she said, as soon as she could +speak; "that is, if you'll let me. I'll thank her ever so much for +offering to take me, and I'll tell her why I can't come. May I, Fox?" + +"All right." Fox tossed her the letter. "And, Sally," he called +softly, for she had started into the house, meaning to write her +letter at once. "Sally, if Martha answers your letter, you tell me +what she says." + +So Sally wrote to Martha. It took her a long time and she used up +several sheets of her mother's best note-paper before she got a letter +written that she was satisfied to send. Miss Hazen was longer in +replying, although she was not so long as she had been in replying to +Fox. Sally did not care. Indeed, she did not give the matter a +thought. She considered the question settled. + +It was not. Miss Hazen must have liked Sally's letter, for she +grudgingly consented to have Charlie come, too, if that was all that +stood in the way of Sally's acceptance of her offer. This was a +surprise to everybody; to none of them more than to Miss Hazen +herself. She had no liking for young children. But she did it. There +seemed to be no escape for Sally now, and she put the letter in Fox's +hand without a word. + +"What's the matter, Sally?" he asked, shocked at her tragic face. "Has +the bottom dropped out?" + +Sally smiled, but her chin quivered. "It seems to me that it has. You +read it, Fox." + +So Fox read it. He was very sober when he looked up and it was a long +time before he spoke. + +"Well," he said at last, whimsically, "Martha's put her foot in it +this time, hasn't she? What do you think you're going to do?" + +"I don't see how I can refuse any longer," Sally answered, her voice +quivering as well as her chin. "Charlie was the only objection that I +could think of; the only real objection. I s'pose I'll have to go now, +and take Charlie." + +Fox did not reply immediately. + +Sally's chin quivered more and more, and her tears overflowed. "Oh, +Fox," she wailed, "I don't want to. I don't want to leave mother and +home and--and everybody." + +Fox drew her toward him and patted her shoulder. "There, there, +Sally," he said gently. "You shan't go if you don't want to. We'll +manage somehow. Don't feel so badly, Sally. Don't." + +Sally's fit of crying was already over. Her tears ceased and she felt +for her handkerchief. + +"I won't," she said, with a pitiful little attempt at a smile. "I'm +not going to cry any more. Have--have you got a handkerchief, Fox?" + +Fox wiped her eyes. "We'll call a council of war," he said; "you and +Doctor Galen and I will talk it over and decide what shall be done. +Not about Martha," he added hastily. "That's settled, Sally, if you +don't want to go. I'll write to her and tell her that you can't come." + +"No," Sally protested earnestly, "it's not settled; at least, not that +way. I'll go if--if that's the best thing for us. I was only crying +because--because I hate to think of leaving. I can't help that, you +know, Fox." + +"I know, Sally. I've been through it all." + +"And so our council of war," Sally continued, "will decide about that, +too." + +The council of war held a long and earnest session and eventually +decided that it was best for Sally to accept Miss Hazen's offer and to +go to Whitby. Sally acquiesced in the decision, but it seemed to Fox +necessary to do a little explaining. + +"You know, Sally," he said, "your mother is likely to be a long time +in getting back her health. She won't be herself for a number of +years. It would only be painful to you--" + +"I know all that, Fox," Sally interrupted, a little impatiently. She +had had it pretty thoroughly drummed into her. "I know all that, and +it doesn't make any difference whether I think so or not. I see that +it's the best thing for us all that Charlie and I should go, and we +will go. That's settled. But you will write to me often, and let me +know how mother gets along--and tell me the news, won't you?" + +"Why, of course I am going to," Fox cried with emphasis. "What did you +think--that we were going to let you slip away from us suddenly, +altogether? Not much. I'm going to write you every blessed week. And +see that you answer my letters every week, too." + +Sally felt comparatively cheerful once more. "I will," she answered, +smiling. + +"Bless your heart!" said Fox. + +Doctor Galen looked aggrieved. + +"And where do I come in?" he asked. "Aren't you going to promise to +write me, too? Your mother will be at my sanitarium and I have a good +mind to give orders that Fox Sanderson is to be told nothing about +her. Then you would have to get your information from me." + +"I didn't s'pose you'd care to have me, you're so busy." Sally was +pleased. "But I'd love to, Doctor, I'd love to. Do you really want me +to?" + +"If you don't, I'll never forgive you. I'm a very cruel man, and that +is the only way to insure good treatment for your mother. You'd +better, Sally." And the doctor wagged his head in a threatening +manner. + +Sally laughed. "It'll be your own fault if you get too many letters. +But you needn't answer them, if you don't have time." + +"We'll see. We'll see. I guess I shall manage to find a few minutes, +now and then, to write to Miss Sally Ladue." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +It was September before Sally was ready to go to Whitby. Indeed, it +cannot be said that she was ready then, or that she ever would have +been ready, if her wishes only had been involved. But by the middle of +September she had done all the things that she had to do, her +belongings and Charlie's were packed in two small trunks, and there +did not seem to be any excuse for delaying her departure longer. + +She had gone, with Doctor Galen, one memorable day, to see the +sanitarium. He, I suppose, had thought that perhaps Sally would feel +better about going if she saw for herself just the way in which her +mother would be taken care of. So he took her all over the building, +himself acting as her guide, and she saw it all. She did feel better. +When she had seen the whole thing and had absorbed as much as the +doctor thought was good for her, they went into town again and had +lunch with Mrs. Galen. There weren't any children and there never had +been. So much the worse for the doctor and for Mrs. Galen. They had +missed the best thing in life, and they knew that they had and +regretted it. After lunch, the doctor went home with Sally. She +thought, with some wonder at it, that the doctor could not have had +much to do that day, for he had given the whole of it to her. There +were many of his patients who thought otherwise--a whole office full +of them; and they waited in vain for the doctor. + +A few days later Sally had bidden a last mournful farewell to all her +favorite haunts. She had been devoting her spare time for a week to +that melancholy but pleasant duty. The little lizard would never more +sit high in the branches of the coal trees and look out over the +prospect of treetops and swamp. Never again would the gynesaurus feed +on stove coal plucked, ripe, from the branches whereon it grew. Sally +laughed, in spite of her melancholy, as this thought passed through +her mind; and the gynesaurus stopped eating coal and incontinently +slid and scrambled down the tree, landing on the ground with a thump +which was more like that made by a little girl than that a lizard +would make. And she ran into the house in rather a cheerful frame of +mind. It was almost time for the man to come for their trunks. + +Fox met her as she came in. "It's a good chance to say good-bye to +your mother, Sally. She's wandering about in her room." + +All of Sally's cheerfulness vanished at that. She knew just how she +should find her mother: aimlessly wandering from one part of the room +to another, intending, always, to do something, and always forgetting +what it was she intended to do. But Sally found Charlie and, together, +they went to their mother. + +It was the same sweet, gentle voice that called to them to come in. It +was the same sweet, gentle woman who greeted them. But in her dull +eyes there was scarcely recognition. To Sally it was as though a thick +veil hung always before her mother, through which she could neither +see clearly nor be seen. Her processes of mind were as vague and as +crude as those of a baby. If she was better than she had been, how +very ill she must have been! + +Mrs. Ladue did not realize what Sally's good-bye meant. She was +utterly incapable of taking in the changes which were before Sally or +before herself. She returned Sally's good-bye impassively, as though +Sally were going no farther than downstairs; and when Charlie, +impatient and a little frightened, fretted and pulled at Sally's hand, +Mrs. Ladue did not seem to mind. It was as if Charlie were some +strange child, in whom she had no interest. Poor lady! + +"Why don't you take him away?" she asked. "He wants to go." + +So Sally, choking with tenderness, took him away. She cried a little +on Fox's shoulder. + +"It seems to me that I can't bear it, Fox," she sobbed. "To see mother +so--is she really better?" + +"You know she is, Sally." + +"Yes, I s'pose I do." Sally's sobs gradually ceased. "But it's +terribly slow. She'll have forgotten us by the time she gets well." + +"No fear, Sally," Fox replied, with a gentle smile. "No fear of that. +Come, here's the man for our things." + +Fox was going with them. Sally dried her eyes while he went to see +about the trunks. + +As they walked out at the gate, Fox glanced at Sally. Her lips were +tightly shut and she did not look back once, but she kept her gaze +firmly fixed ahead, as if she were afraid of being turned into a +pillar of salt. Nobody knew how much determination it took for her to +do so. She would have liked to cry again and kiss every tree in the +place. But she wouldn't cry again. She just would not. + +Henrietta met them before they had gone far, and rattled on as though +she had been talking on a wager. Sally couldn't talk. And Henrietta +went to the station with them, still talking fast, and stayed with +Sally and Charlie while Fox checked the trunks. Then the train came +and Sally lingered at the door of the car. + +"Good-bye, Sally," Henrietta called. "Perhaps I could come to visit +you if you asked me." + +"I will if I can," said Sally. "You know it won't be my house and I'm +afraid that Cousin Martha may not find it convenient. If it was my +house I'd ask you now." + +The train started. "Good-bye, Sally," Henrietta called again as she +ran along the platform; "I wish I were going with you." + +"I wish you were," Sally answered. "Oh, I do wish you were, Henrietta. +Good-bye." + +For Henrietta had come to the end of the platform and had stopped. +The train was going almost too fast for her anyway. + +"You'd better come inside, Sally." And Fox drew her inside and shut +the door. + +Doctor Galen met the little party upon its arrival in the city. There +was nearly an hour before their train left for New York, and the +doctor suggested that they all have lunch together in the station. +Sally started to protest, for did they not have a package containing +cold chicken, hard-boiled eggs, and bread-and-butter? But the doctor +observed that he had never yet seen the time when a cold lunch did not +come in handy, and they might find use for it later; and, besides, he +had the lunch ordered and a table reserved. A feeling almost of +cheerfulness stole over Sally's spirits; and when, lunch over, they +were parting from the doctor at the steps of the car, Sally looked up +at him somewhat wistfully. He interpreted her look rightly, and bent +down. + +"Would you, Sally?" he asked. "And one for Mrs. Galen, too. Remember, +we haven't any children of our own." + +At that, Sally threw her arms around his neck and gave him two for +himself and two for Mrs. Galen. The doctor straightened again. + +"Bless you, Sally!" he said softly. "I wish you belonged to us. Don't +forget your promise." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +It was very early, as the habits of the Ladue family went, when the +train pulled into the station at Whitby. For Professor Ladue had not +been an early riser. College professors of certain types are not noted +for their earliness. One of these types had been well represented by +Professor Ladue. He had not, to be sure, ever met his classes clad in +his evening clothes; but, no doubt, he would have done so, in time, if +his career had not been cut short. + +The train did not go beyond Whitby. One reason why it did not was that +there was nothing beyond but water and no stations of permanence. +There was plenty of time to get out of the train without feeling +hurried. Fox got out and helped Charlie down the steps; and Sally got +out, feeling as if she had already been up half the night. Indeed, she +had, almost, for she had been so afraid of oversleeping that she had +been only dozing since midnight. + +"I wonder, Fox," she said as she came down the steps, "whether there +will be any one here to meet us." + +"Cast your eye over the crowd," Fox whispered, "and if you see a thin, +haughty lady standing somewhat aloof from the common herd, I'll bet my +hat that's Martha." + +Sally chuckled involuntarily, and she cast her eye over the crowd as +Fox had told her to do. There _was_ a lady, who seemed to be somewhat +haughty, standing back by the wall of the station, aloof from the +common herd, but she was not as thin as Sally had expected Cousin +Martha to be. This lady was evidently expecting somebody--or +somebodies--and was watching, with a shadow of anxiety on her face, as +the crowd poured out of the doors and flowed down the steps. Then her +gaze happened to alight upon Sally and her eyebrows lifted, quickly, +and she smiled. Sally smiled as quickly in return and made up her +mind, on the spot, that, if that was Cousin Martha, she should rather +like Cousin Martha. + +The lady had come forward at once, with a rapid, nervous walk, and met +them as soon as the crowd would let her. + +"Sarah Ladue?" she asked. + +"Sally, Cousin Martha," Sally replied. "Everybody calls me Sally." + +"Well, I am very glad to see you, Sally." Cousin Martha kissed her on +the cheek; a quick, nervous peck. Sally tried to kiss Cousin Martha +while she had the chance, but she succeeded in getting no more than a +corner of a veil. "How did you know me?" + +"I didn't. I only saw that you were looking for somebody, and I +thought it might be me you were looking for." + +"Oh, so that was it!" Miss Hazen smiled faintly and sighed. "I thought +that perhaps you might have recognized me from the photograph I once +gave your father. But I forgot that that was a great many years ago." +She sighed again. + +Sally tried in vain to remember any photograph of Miss Martha Hazen. +She did remember something else. + +"This is Fox Sanderson," she said, holding on to Fox's arm, "who has +just come on to bring us. Fox is _very_ kind. And here is Charlie." + +She dragged Charlie forward by the collar. He had been behind her, +absorbed in the movements of the engine. + +"Oh, what a pretty boy!" exclaimed Cousin Martha. "How do you do, +Charlie?" + +"Not a pretty boy!" cried Charlie. + +Sally shook him. "Say very well, I thank you," she whispered. + +"Very-well-I-thank-you," Charlie repeated sulkily. "I'm hungry." + +Miss Hazen laughed. "Mercy on us!" she said. "We must be getting home +to give you something to eat." She extended the tips of her fingers to +Fox. "I'm very glad to see you, too, Mr. Sanderson. You will come +home with us, too? The carriage is waiting." + +"Thank you, Miss Hazen. I must see about the trunks, I suppose; +Sally's and Charlie's. I didn't bring any, for I must go back +to-night." + +"Then, perhaps, you will spend the day with us?" + +Fox thanked her again and Cousin Martha told him what to do about the +trunks. There was one baggageman, in particular, whom the Hazens had +employed for years when there had been trunks to go or to come. That +that baggageman was now old and nearly as decrepit as his horse and +wagon made no difference. + +They were soon in Miss Hazen's stout carriage, behind a single stout +horse. Sally had not noticed, before, that the water was so near. They +went through some very dirty streets, past saloons and tenement-houses. +Miss Hazen regarded them sadly. + +"One gets a poor impression of Whitby from the entrance into it," she +observed. "This part of the city has changed very much since my young +days; changed much for the worse. It is a great pity that the railroad +does not come in at some different place. On the hill, now, one would +get a very different impression. But there are parts of the city which +have not changed so very much. Although," she added thoughtfully, "all +the change is for the worse, it seems to me." + +There did not seem to be anything to be said that would be of any +comfort. Fox murmured something, and then they drove up an +extraordinarily steep hill. The horse had all he could do to drag them +at a walk. But, looking up the hill, Sally saw a pleasant street with +elms arching over it. + +"Oh, how lovely!" she cried. "Do you live in this part of the city, +Cousin Martha?" + +"No," Cousin Martha replied, with rather more than a suspicion of +pride in her voice. "Where we live, it is prettier than this." + +"Oh," said Sally. Then she recollected. + +"There was a very nice man on the boat," she remarked. "He was some +sort of an officer, but I don't know exactly what. He said he lived in +Whitby, and he had several children. The youngest girl is about my +age. Do you know them, Cousin Martha? Their name is Wills." + +"Wills? Wills? I don't think I know any Willses." + +"He seemed to know who you were," Sally prompted. "He knew right away, +as soon as ever I told him where I was going." + +"It is likely enough," said Miss Hazen, trying to speak simply. The +attempt was not a conspicuous success. "Many people, whom we don't +know, know who we are. The Willses are very worthy people, I have no +doubt, but you are not likely to know them." + +"He said that, too," Sally observed. + +Miss Hazen looked as if she would have liked to commend Mr. Wills's +discrimination; but she did not and they continued their drive in +silence. The streets seemed all to be arched over with elms; all that +they drove through, at all events. Presently they reached the top of +the hill and turned into a street that was as crooked as it could be. +It turned this way and that and went, gently, uphill and down; but, +always, it seemed to be trying to keep on the top of the ridge. Sally +remarked upon it. + +"You might call this the Ridge Road," she said; "like Ridge Road in +Philadelphia. I have never been on the Ridge Road in Philadelphia," +she added hastily, fearing that Cousin Martha might think she was +pretending to be what she was not, "but I have always imagined that it +was something like this." + +Fox and Miss Hazen laughed. "Not much like it, Sally," said Fox. + +"Or," Sally resumed, "you might call it the Cow Path. It is crooked +enough to be one." + +"That is just what it used to be called," said Miss Hazen. "It was not +a very poetical name, but we liked it. They changed the name, some +years ago." + +"What?" Sally asked. "What did they change it to?" + +"Washington Street," answered Cousin Martha plaintively. "It seemed to +us that it was not necessary to call it Washington Street. There is no +individuality in the name." + +Fox laughed again. "Not a great deal," he agreed. + +Miss Hazen smiled and sighed. + +"We cling to the old names," she continued. "We still call this +street, among ourselves, the Cow Path, and Parker Street is still West +India Lane, and Smith Street is Witch Lane. The old names are more +picturesque and romantic. There seemed to be no sufficient reason for +changing them. For us, they are not changed." + +Washington Street--the Cow Path, as Miss Hazen preferred to call +it--had upon it a great many handsome places. They were big houses, of +stone, for the most part, or covered with stucco, although a few of +them were of wood; and they were set well back from the street, behind +well-kept lawns with clumps of shrubbery or of trees scattered at +careful random. Sally did not see one of these old places with the +rather formal garden, with its box hedges, in front of the house, but +she saw a good many with gorgeous gardens at the side, and many with +the gardens, apparently, at the back. + +They were very different, these great places, from her own home. Her +own home might have occupied a whole square, as many of these did, if +it had been in a city. It was not in a city, but in what was scarcely +more than a village and the trees were where nature had set them. The +whole place--Sally's own place--had an atmosphere of wildness quite in +keeping with coal trees and sauri. These places, if they had had no +more care than the professor had been accustomed to give to his, would +have a pathetic air of abandon and desolation. What would a poor +little gynesaurus do here? + +They turned off of the Cow Path and Miss Hazen brightened perceptibly. + +"We are getting near home," she remarked. "Our house is on the next +corner." + +"Oh, is it?" Sally asked. "What street is this?" + +"This is Box Elder and our house is on the corner of Apple Tree." + +Sally laughed. "How funny!" she said. "And what pretty names!" + +"We think they are pretty names. Now, here we are." + +They were just turning in between granite gateposts that were green +with dampness, and Sally looked up with a lively interest. She caught +a glimpse of a wooden front fence of three octagonal rails; but it was +only a glimpse, for the view was cut off, almost immediately, by the +row of great evergreens which stood just back of the fence. There were +two other evergreens in the middle of the plot of lawn, and the elms +on the streets stretched their branches far over, nearly to the house. +Altogether, it gave a depressing effect of gloom and decay, which the +aspect of the house itself did not tend to relieve. + +It was a wooden house, large and square, although not so large as +those on the Cow Path. It had a deeply recessed doorway with four +wooden columns extending up two stories to support the gable. The +house was not clap-boarded, but was smooth and sanded and its surface +was grooved to look like stone. It might once have been a fair +imitation of granite, but the time was in the distant past when the +old house would have fooled even the most casual observer. And it gave +them no welcome; nobody opened the door at their approach, or, at +least, nobody on the inside. The door did not open until Cousin Martha +opened it herself, disclosing a dark and gloomy interior. + +"Come in, Sally," she said; "and you, too, Mr. Sanderson, if you +please. If you will wait in the parlor for a moment, I will see about +some breakfast for you. I have no doubt you are both hungry as well as +Charlie. We have had our breakfast." + +Sally wondered who the "we" might be. It had not occurred to her until +that moment that there might be somebody else in that great gloomy +house besides Cousin Martha. + +"Sally," cried Charlie fretfully as they entered the dark parlor. "I +want to go home. I want to go to my own home, Sally." + +"Hush, Charlie," said Sally. "This is our home now. Hush. Cousin +Martha may hear you." + +Charlie would not hush. He was tired and hungry, although they had had +an apology for a breakfast, the remains of their cold lunch, before +six o'clock. + +"Isn't my home. This old house isn't--" + +The words died on his lips; for there was a sound behind the +half-opened folding-doors at the end of the long room, and an old man +appeared there. He seemed to Sally to be a very old man. He had a long +white beard and stooped slightly as he made his way slowly toward +them. + +"Is this Sarah Ladue?" he asked as he came forward. He came near Sally +and held out his hand. + +"Yes, sir," answered Sally doubtfully, laying her hand in his. "It's +Sally." + +The old man must have detected the doubt. "Well, Sally," he said +kindly, "I am your father's uncle, your Cousin Patty's father." So +Cousin Martha and Cousin Patty were one. + +"Oh!" returned Sally quickly. "I thought--that is, I'm very glad to +see you." + +The old gentleman smiled quietly. "And I'm very glad to see you. Don't +you want to come into the back parlor? There's a fire in there. You, +too, sir," turning to Fox. + +"I forgot," interrupted Sally. "I am always forgetting to do it. This +is Mr. Sanderson. He is a _very_ kind friend of ours. He came all the +way with us just to see that we got here safely. And this is Charlie, +sir." + +"I am happy to meet a very kind friend of Sally's," the old gentleman +said, shaking hands with Fox. "From what I hear, she is in need of +kind friends." He held his hand out to Charlie. "Will this little boy +shake hands with his Uncle John?" + +That appeared to be the last thing that Charlie wished to do, but he +did it, sulkily, without a word. Then the old gentleman led the way +slowly into the back parlor. + +Sally remembered, now, that she had heard her father speak of John +Hazen--John Hazen, Junior--with that sneering laugh of his; that cold, +mirthless laugh with which he managed to cast ridicule upon anything +or anybody. This nice old gentleman must be John Hazen, Junior. But +why should a stooping old man with a long white beard be called +Junior? Why, on earth, Sally wondered. Surely, such an old man--she +would speak to Cousin Martha about it. Perhaps Cousin Martha had a +brother who was John, Junior. As for Cousin Martha's father, she had +always taken it for granted that he was a disembodied spirit. + +There was a coal fire bubbling in the grate in the back parlor. A +great easy-chair was drawn up to the fire, and beside it, on the +floor, lay the morning paper, where Uncle John had dropped it. There +were other easy-chairs in the room, and books and magazines were +scattered over the centre table. The centre table had a much-stained +green cloth top, Sally noticed. Altogether, this room was cheerful, in +its own way, as any room which is lived in must be; as the great front +parlor was not. Its way was not the way Sally had been used to. It was +too dark, to begin with, and the heavy curtains only half drawn back +from the windows kept out most of the light which managed to straggle +past the trees. + +The old gentleman began to place other chairs, but Fox did it for him. + +"Thank you," he said. "And now, as soon as Patty comes back, I shall +have to leave you, if you will excuse me. I usually go downtown +earlier than this, but I wished to see Sally before I went. I hope you +will make yourselves quite at home." + +Consideration of just this kind was a new thing for Sally. + +"Oh, thank you," she cried, flushing with pleasure. "It was very nice +of you to want to wait for me." + +The old gentleman again smiled his quiet smile; but before he could +say anything, Cousin Martha came in. + +"I have some breakfast for you," she announced. "Will you go to your +rooms first, or have something to eat first?" + +There was no room for doubt as to Charlie's preference in the matter. +Miss Hazen smiled. + +"Very well, then," she said. "I think that will be better. Have your +breakfast while it is hot. Then I can take you up and get you settled. +The trunks will have got here by that time." + +"I will go now, Patty," said her father, "if you will be good enough +to help me with my overcoat." + +So she stopped in the hall and held his coat and he bade good-bye to +every one by name, and went out slowly. + +"Does Uncle John go downtown every day?" Sally asked, soon after. She +was busy with her breakfast. + +"Oh, mercy, yes," Miss Hazen replied. "He is as well able to attend to +his business as ever. And he always walks, unless it is very bad +walking: icy or very muddy. I am afraid that he might slip and fall, +and old bones, you know, do not mend easily." + +"Is he--is he," Sally went on, hesitating, "John Hazen, Junior?" + +"Yes," answered Cousin Martha. "He has kept the Junior." + +Sally did not know just what she meant by that. "I've heard my father +speak of John Hazen, Junior," she remarked, "and I didn't know but, +perhaps, I might have a Cousin John." + + + + +BOOK II + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Sally was tolerably happy after she got settled. She had cried a few +tears into Fox's coat when he was going away and she had sent many +messages to Henrietta and to Doctor Galen and to her mother, although +she knew that her mother would receive them with her pitiful, vacant +smile and would go on wondering where Sally was. She had been told, of +course, over and over, but could not seem to grasp the reason or, +indeed, the fact. + +Sally had wiped her eyes and sighed. "I'm not going to cry any more," +she had said; "and I shan't be unhappy, Fox. I just won't be." + +"You've had a good deal to make you unhappy, Sally," Fox had replied +gently, "but I do hope that you won't be. You can trust Doctor Galen +to do the very best for your mother." + +"Yes," Sally had returned, smiling; "you and Doctor Galen. You forgot, +Fox. And I'm glad that father has gone away. I'm glad--glad," Sally +cried passionately. "He didn't do a thing for mother. He only liked to +make her feel bad. She'd have died if he'd stayed. And I hope you'll +never find him. I hope you never will." + +"We're not breaking our necks, trying." + +"I'm glad of it. Oh, Fox, I've never said such a thing before, and I +never will again. But I just had to or I should have burst. Don't you +tell, will you? Don't ever tell _anybody_." + +Fox had promised and had kissed her and had started back, feeling +comforted. It was very much better than he had expected, and Sally had +made up her mind. There was everything in that. + +Sally woke early the next morning. It was not quite light, if it ever +could be said to be quite light in that house. But a little light had +begun to filter in around the curtains, and Sally looked about the +great, dim room, wondering for a moment where she was. Then she +remembered; she remembered, too, that Uncle John had breakfast early. +Cousin Martha had forgotten to tell her at what time to get up, but +there could be no harm in getting up now. Charlie had a little room +off her own big one, probably the dressing-room. At that instant +Charlie appeared, wandering hesitatingly, clad only in his little +pajamas, which had caused some surprise on Cousin Martha's part. + +"Oh, how very cunning!" she had exclaimed, as Sally unpacked them. + +Now Charlie made a dive for Sally's bed. "I want to get in with you, +Sally." + +But Sally thought that they had better get dressed, and said so. When +Sally said things in that way, there was no appeal, and Charlie +submitted, with not more objection than would have been expected, to a +rapid sponge; for it had not occurred to Sally, the night before, to +find out about a bathtub. It might very well be that the house had +been built before the era of bathtubs and that no such useless +encumbrance had been added. Cousin Martha herself solved that +difficulty for her. There was a gentle tap at her door. + +"Sally," called Cousin Martha's voice, "here is your hot water. Do you +know about the tub?" + +"No," answered Sally, opening the door; "Charlie's had his bath, +Cousin Martha, as good a one as I could give him, but I haven't." + +"You didn't splash water over the floor, did you?" Cousin Martha asked +anxiously, scrutinizing the floor for any signs of wetting. + +"I tried not to," Sally replied. "It's hardly light enough to make +sure." + +Miss Hazen had disappeared into Charlie's room and now reappeared +bringing a tub. It was a large shallow pan, a sort of glorified milk +pan, and might have been made of cast iron, judging from the way Miss +Hazen carried it. It was not of cast iron, but of tin; the kind of tin +that cannot be got in these days, even for love. + +"There!" said she, setting it down. + +"Thank you, Cousin Martha. It will be nice to have that. But you don't +need to bring us hot water. We don't use it." + +"Why, Sally!" Cousin Martha cried in a horrified voice. "You don't +bathe in cold water!" Sally nodded. "Not tempered at all?" + +"Just cold water," Sally responded. + +"But it will be very cold, later on," remonstrated Cousin Martha. "The +water sometimes freezes in the pitcher." + +Sally chuckled. "Long as it doesn't freeze solid it's all right. I +like it very cold. It prickles and stings me all over. We like it +cold, don't we, Charlie?" + +Charlie grunted. He did not seem enthusiastic. Miss Hazen sighed as +she shut the door. + +Breakfast was over, Uncle John had gone, and things had pretty well +settled down for the day, and it still seemed very early to Sally. She +and Charlie wandered in the yard before eight o'clock. That yard +seemed very restricted. In the first place, it was bounded on every +side except the front by a high wooden fence. The top of the fence was +just about level with the top of Sally's head, so that she couldn't +see over it without jumping up or climbing on something. Sally had +thought of climbing, of course; but, first, she had to get Charlie +acquainted with the yard, so that he would stay down contentedly. +Charlie had not yet developed any particular aptitude for climbing +trees. + +They wandered to the stable, which was at the back of the house, a +little to one side, and opened directly upon Box Elder Street. Here +they found the man attending to his duties about the stout horse. That +man paid but little attention to the children, but continued his work +in a leisurely manner. No doubt this was praiseworthy on his part, but +it was not what the children had hoped for, and they soon wandered +out again and went towards the back of the yard. Here was a vegetable +garden on one side and a flower garden on the other, together +stretching across from Box Elder Street to a little street that was +scarcely more than a lane. Sally had been in Whitby a long time before +she found that this was Hazen's Lane. It was most natural to speak of +it as "The Lane," and "The Lane" it was. + +Back of the two gardens was another high wooden fence; and behind the +fence was a row of maples bordering a street. Sally knew it was a +street because she could see, over the top of the fence, the fronts of +two houses on the other side of it. + +"Oh, dear!" she sighed. "There doesn't seem to be anything very +interesting here, does there, Charlie? You can't even see farther than +across the street. I suppose Cousin Martha wouldn't like it if we +should dig, for there isn't any place to dig but the garden." + +Charlie began to whimper. + +At this moment there came a thump on the fence at the corner of the +Lane. The thumping continued, in a rhythmical manner, as if it were in +time with somebody's walking, and progressed slowly along the Lane. +Presently there was a double thump at each step, and Sally saw two +cloth caps, exactly alike, bobbing up and down, almost disappearing +behind the fence at each downward bob. + +"It looks like twins," she said. + +"Follow 'em along," said Charlie, in some excitement. "Come on, +Sally." + +So they followed 'em along until the twin caps had got almost opposite +the house. Then two shrill voices broke into sudden song. + + "Monkey married the baboon's sister, + Smacked his lips and then he kissed 'er; + Kissed so hard he--" + +Sally had jumped up on the stringer of the fence, just where the caps +would be at the next step. "It is, Charlie!" she cried. + +The owners of the two caps had jumped away with an alacrity born of +experience, and had started to run. They looked back and stopped. + +"Hello!" they cried, together, in surprise. "Is wh--wh--what, +Ch--Ch--Charlie?" + +"Twins," Sally answered in triumph; "aren't you?" + +The twins nodded. "C--c--course we are," said one. +"Any--any--any--b--ody know that." + +"Wh--wh--what's your n--n--name?" asked the other. + +"And wh--wh--who's Ch--Ch--Charlie?" + +"My name is Sally Ladue," replied Sally, "and Charlie's my brother." +Charlie popped his head above the fence. "We've come," she continued, +thinking that she might save the twins the painful process of speech, +"we've come to live here." + +"W--w--with P--P--Patty H.?" asked one of the twins, in a hoarse +whisper. + +It was impossible for any one who was not very familiar with them to +tell whether it was the same twin who had spoken last or the other +one; and Sally had taken her eyes off them when she spoke of Charlie. + +"With Uncle John and Cousin Martha," she answered. "I've never called +her Patty H. and I don't think it's very respectful." + +The twins grinned. "W--w--we c--c--call her P--P--Patty H. +be--be--bec--c--cause it's h--h--hard to s--s--say +Haa--Ha--Ha--Ha--_Hav_ering." + +Sally had hard work to suppress her chuckles. The other twin made no +effort to suppress his; he laughed heartlessly. + +His brother turned upon him. "Sh--sh--shut up, you b--b--bum, you! You +c--c--couldn't s--s--say it." + +Sally essayed to be peacemaker. "You know," she said hesitatingly, +"that you are so much alike that I can't tell you apart. You're just +like Tweedledum and Tweedledee, and you seem to quarrel just the same +as they did. Now, you're Tweedledum," she went on, pointing at one, +and then at the other, "and you're Tweedledee. If Dum would wear a +red ribbon in his buttonhole and Dee would wear a blue one, I should +know. It's very convenient to know." + +The idea of wearing ribbons in their buttonholes did not seem to +strike the twins favorably. They shook their heads. + +"Well," said Sally hastily, "there's another thing: you were thumping +on the fence and singing--" + +"We c--c--can s--s--sing all right when we c--c--can't t--t--talk. +S--some d--days are go--g--good for t--talking and s--some are +b--b--bad. Th--this is a b--bad d--day." + +"Yes, I suppose so. But what I was going to say was this: you were +singing something that may have been meant to plague Cousin Martha. I +want you to promise not to try to plague her. You will promise, won't +you?" + +The twins grinned again and promised with evident reluctance. + +"You g--going to our s--s--school?" inquired Dum suddenly. + +"I don't know about schools," Sally replied. "I suppose I'm going to +some school, and Charlie, too." + +"Ours," Dum began; but at the mention of school Dee started. + +"G--g--gee!" he exclaimed. "We g--g--got to h--h--hurry or we'll be +l--late. C--c--come on." + +The twins were gone. Sally and Charlie got down from the fence. + +"They were a funny pair, weren't they, Charlie?" + +"Yes, they were. Now, Sally," Charlie went on dismally, "what you +goin' to do?" + +Sally sighed. It was not nine o'clock and Charlie was in the dumps +already. She looked around and there was Miss Hazen just coming out of +the front door. + +"There's Cousin Martha, Charlie. Let's go and meet her." + +Charlie was not in a state to be enthusiastic about anything, +certainly not about Cousin Martha. He didn't care; but he went, in a +condition of dismal melancholy that touched her. + +"Homesick, poor child!" she murmured. "Charlie," she said aloud, "I am +going downtown in the carriage, to do some errands. Don't you want to +go? You and Sally?" + +Charlie thereupon brightened perceptibly. "I'll go if you want me to." + +Cousin Martha smiled and turned to Sally, who accepted. "Although," +she said, "I want to write a letter. But I suppose there'll be plenty +of time after we get back. We've just been talking with the funniest +pair of twins. They stutter." + +Miss Hazen sighed. "I know. I heard them banging on the fence. They +are the Carling twins. Their names are Henry and Horace." + +"Harry and Horry," cried Sally. "But which is older?" + +"Mercy! I don't know," Cousin Martha answered. "I can't tell them +apart. One is just as bad as the other." + +"I've an idea," Sally remarked, "that they aren't going to be so bad." + +Cousin Martha looked curiously at Sally, but she said nothing and just +then the carriage came. + +Miss Hazen seemed to find especial delight in Charlie's society on +that drive. She talked to him more and more while she went to do her +errands. Charlie, on the whole, was not an especially attractive +child. He was a handsome boy, but he was apt to be dissatisfied and +discontented, which gave his face the kind of expression which such a +disposition always gives. He seemed to be developing some of the +characteristics of his father. Not that Sally was aware of the +characteristics Charlie was developing. Charlie was Charlie, that was +all. She saw too much of him--had had the care of him too +continuously--to realize the little resemblances which might be +evident to one who had less to do with him. It is not unlikely that +Miss Hazen realized those resemblances, although she may not have been +conscious of it, and that it was just that which was endearing him to +her. + +Whatever the reason, Cousin Martha got to taking him with her at every +opportunity. Charlie was in school every morning, for one of Miss +Hazen's errands, on that first day, had been to arrange for school for +both Sally and Charlie. Charlie, being at school every morning except +Saturday, could not accompany Cousin Martha on her drives in the +mornings. Consequently, Cousin Martha changed her habit of more than +twenty years' standing and drove in the afternoon. Her father smiled +when he heard of it and looked from Charlie to Sally. + +"I know of no reason, Patty," he observed quietly, "why the afternoon +is not as good a time for driving as the morning. Doesn't this little +girl go?" + +"Not very often, Uncle John," Sally replied, smiling up at him. +"I'm--I'm very busy, and--and I'd rather go anywhere on my own feet." + +He patted her head and smiled. He liked to go anywhere on his own +feet, too. + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +It was a blustery Saturday toward the last of March. Sally had written +her letter to Fox and one to Doctor Galen, more to take up time than +because she had anything to say that she thought was worth saying; but +the kind doctor seemed to like to get her rather infrequent letters, +and he always answered them, although his answers were rather short. +But what could she expect of a doctor who was as busy as Doctor Galen? +Not much, truly. Cousin Martha had told her so. Perhaps I had better +call her Patty. Everybody called her Patty or Miss Patty. Even Sally +had fallen into that habit. Miss Patty may have preferred it or she +may not have; her preference did not seem to matter. As I was saying, +Cousin Patty had told her so, and had intended the telling, it seemed +to Sally, rather as a rebuke. Now, Sally did not know why she should +be rebuked,--for her conscience was clear. But the fame of Doctor +Galen had gone forth in the land and Cousin Patty considered it a +great honor that any one of her family connections was under his care. +Hence her seeming rebuke. + +Sally had finished her letter to the doctor and it was only half-past +eight. She sighed as the hall clock--which, by the way, was in the +back parlor--struck the half-hour, solemnly, as if it were aware of +the importance of its office. That tall clock did its whole duty +conscientiously--with Uncle John's help. Sally sat gazing at the clock +and meditating. It was no less than astonishing, when you came to +think of it, what a lot of things in that house depended upon Uncle +John's help. He never made a show of giving it, but a quiet word here +and a calm smile there did wonders. He was a regulator, that was what +he was; a sort of a pendulum, to make things go right. Sally had +become very fond of Uncle John. Cousin Patty--well--she seemed to +need a regulator, not to put it any more strongly. Sally smiled as the +idea crossed her mind, and she took the end of the pen-holder from its +place between her teeth and returned to the perusal of her letter. + +Sally always read over her letters, and, having read this one over, +she added a postscript telling the doctor--a very private joke between +him and her--of Cousin Patty's rebuke. She knew that he would be +amused. When she had the doctor's letter sealed, she looked up again +at the clock. + +"Oh, dear!" she murmured; "it must have stopped." She knew very well +that the clock would not be guilty of such misbehavior as long as it +had Uncle John's help. "I'll write to Henrietta." + +To tell the truth, Sally had not missed Henrietta one half as much as +she had missed Fox, but if she did not write her very often it was +simply because she forgot it. When she remembered, she was always very +sorry and wrote frequently, until she forgot again. Sally's letters to +Henrietta came in bunches, with intervals of a month or more between +the bunches. + +She had not got very far on this one when Uncle John came in. He was +very late that morning. + +"Sally," he said, "they are flying kites in the Lot. You may like to +see them." + +For, as I said at the beginning, before I was led off into this +digression, it was a blustery Saturday in March. + +"Oh!" Sally cried, pushing back her chair. "Are they? Do you mind, +Uncle John, if I climb a tree on that side? You can't see over the +wall, you know." + +Mr. Hazen smiled quietly. "Climb any tree you like," he replied. "You +will be careful, Sally, I know; careful of yourself and of the trees. +But where is Charlie?" + +"Cousin Patty is getting him ready to go out with her." Sally was +pretty well relieved of the care of Charlie by this time. "I'll finish +this letter when I come in." + +She jumped up, snatched up her hood and her coat and slipped her hand +into Uncle John's and they went out together. They parted at the foot +of the steps and Mr. Hazen walked slowly downtown, smiling to himself +in a satisfied way. + +Just across Box Elder Street was a high wall. It seemed to Sally to be +at least twenty feet high; and the builder of that wall had added +insult to injury by cementing it smoothly on the outside--Sally had +never seen the inside of it--and by capping it with a smooth and +projecting wooden roof. The wooden roof was no longer smooth, but +warped with the sun and the rains of many years, and the mouldings on +the under edges were coming away in places. But the wall was still +absolutely unclimbable, although it was possible to see over it from +the upper windows of the house or from the evergreens which surrounded +it. Sally preferred the evergreens. To be sure, their heavy branches +somewhat interfered with the view, but, at least, they were trees and +they were out of doors. + +When Sally had found a comfortable perch in a spruce, she looked over +into the Lot. The Lot was a relic of the past; of twenty-five or +thirty years past. Its latest useful service had been, according to +internal evidence, as a cornfield. The boys, running across it with +their kites, were sure of this, for the hills were still there and +made running on it a work of art, especially if there was a kite at +the end of a string to need their attention. Indeed, perhaps I was +wrong in putting the flying of kites in the class of useless service. +At any rate, that was the only use to which Morton's lot had been put +for many years. It was called "The Lot." There was no danger of +ambiguity in so speaking of it, any more than there was in speaking of +Hazen's Lane as "The Lane." No one would have any doubt at all--no one +in Sally's set, at least--as to what was referred to, in either case. + +Sally looked out as she best could between the branches of her spruce. +She couldn't see much, only a little piece of the field at each +opening. It was very unsatisfactory. She saw five or six boys, two of +them large boys, bending over something which lay upon the ground. +Presently the group divided and the boys stood up; and she saw that +what they had been working on was a huge kite of the old-fashioned +six-sided kind. She saw, too, that the big boys were Everett Morton +and Dick Torrington. At that moment the familiar figures of the +Carling twins slipped through a break in the high picket fence from +the other street. Immediately, Sally scrambled out of the spruce and +ran up Box Elder Street. She had a heightened color, but that might +have been due to the exertion of scrambling. It might not have been +due to the exertion of scrambling. Scrambling was no unusual exertion +for Sally. + +Sally's rapid change of base was not because of the restricted view +from the tree, although her view was restricted. And it was not +because of the Carlings. The Carlings were her devoted slaves; but +that fact was an annoyance to her rather than a gratification, and it +is conceivable that the presence of the Carlings might have had weight +in inducing her to put up with the inconveniences of a restricted +view. The object of interest must therefore have been either Everett +or Dick or the kite. + +At her school Sally was in the fifth class. They did not have forms or +grades at that school. Grades are mysterious things which seem to run +the wrong way, with no particular point of beginning and no particular +ending. A man might be in the fiftieth grade if there were any +teachers for it. There seems to be nothing to prevent. But when a boy +graduates from the first class, there is a point that brings you up +short. Something vital must happen then; and the thing that happens is +that the boy either goes to college or goes to work, for it is out of +the question to go any farther in that school. You know it without +being told. + +The boys in Sally's school usually went to college when they graduated +from the first class. They were well prepared for it. Everett and Dick +were in the first class and they would go away to college in the fall, +or, at least, they hoped that they would. There was some doubt about +it, for Dick was rather dull and plodding and Everett was neither dull +nor plodding. They were four years ahead of Sally. I cannot tell why +she had chosen those two to look up to. It is doubtful whether she +could have shown adequate cause either, always supposing that she +would have been willing to acknowledge the fact. + +Dick was the type of the nice English boy. Sally had never seen an +English boy or an English man in her whole life; but that did not +prevent her from forming an ideal of the type, to which Dick measured +up in every particular. He had light hair and that curious brunette +coloring that sometimes goes with it; he was invariably pleasant and +polite and deliberate in his speech; and he was generally well +dressed. Sally was particular about that, almost finicky. If Dick had +shown a tendency to overdressing--but he didn't. He had an air of +distinction. He also had a sister, Emily, who was in the second class +at school. Sally thought that Emily Torrington was the most beautiful +girl she had ever seen. She could not imagine any girl more beautiful. + +Everett was a great contrast to Dick in every respect. He had no +sister. Everett was an only child and his family was very rich, so +that he was in great danger of being spoiled. Not that it made any +difference to Sally whether he was rich or not. And Everett was +handsome, in quite a different way from Dick, and brilliant and +dashing. In short, he was fascinating. Many others than Sally had +found him so. It was quite likely that a woman would be more +permanently happy and contented with Dick than with Everett. I do not +mean to imply that Sally had ever indulged in any such reflection. She +may have and she may not have; but he fascinated her, as he had +fascinated those others of whom I spoke. He didn't know it. Everett +Morton had never spoken to Sally. He had never even noticed her. Dick +had in his good-natured, pleasant way, but Dick was always polite. +Everett was not--always. + +So Sally's heart was beating a little rapidly when she pushed through +the break in the fence. But she had been running, you remember, for a +square and a half. + +The big kite was up on end, with one of the smaller boys holding it. +It was a huge kite, nearly twice the height of the boy that held it +and the top of it was a good foot above Everett's head as he stood in +front of it; so big that they had a rope to fly it with, and the end +of the rope was tied around Everett's waist. The smaller boys, of +course, were clustered about the kite, the Carlings among them. Then +Dick and Everett took the rope in their hands, called to the boy to +let go, and began to run; and the kite rose, evenly at first, then +twitching viciously from side to side. Then it hesitated for an +instant, as the tail, dragging on the ground, caught around the legs +of one of the Carlings. Sally had not yet become able to tell them +apart, at any distance. She saw him struggle, go down with his feet in +the air and with the tail of the kite still wrapped around them. She +saw the other twin precipitate himself upon the fallen one, try vainly +to undo the tail, then busy himself with one of his brother's shoes. +The kite suddenly soared, bearing aloft, tied firmly into its tail, a +shoe. + +The twins remained upon the ground, one pounding the other. Sally +thought that the pounded one had already had punishment enough and she +ran toward them. + +"You j--jay!" cried the upper twin to the under twin, as she came +near. "You b--b--bum, you! D--don't you kn--know any b--b--better 'n +t--to g--get c--c--caught th--that way? You--" + +"Sh--sh--shut up," yelled the under twin, struggling wildly, +"y--y--you r--r--rotten old b--beat! L--l--lemmeup!" + +"Here," said Sally, imperatively, "let him up. Stop pounding him." + +Harry stopped his pounding of Horry and both of the twins looked up, +Harry with a sheepish grin and Horry with an expression of the most +profound relief. + +"S--S--Sally!" they began, in unison. "Oh, I ain't h--h--hurtin' 'im," +continued Harry. "Oh, h--h--he ain't h--h--hurtin' m--me," said Horry. + +Sally laughed. "Well," she said, "you'll get up." She took Harry by +the shoulder. "It's positively disgraceful the way you brothers +fight." + +Harry got up slowly. "B--b--brothers always f--f--fight," he said +apologetically, "if th--th--they're an--an--any--wh--where ne--n--near +th--the s--s--same s--size. H--H--Horry 'n-n' I are j--just th--the +s--s--same s--s--size. B--b--but I n--n--never h--hurt 'im," he added +magnanimously. + +Horry had got up, and was standing on one leg, with his stockinged +foot against his other knee. He made Sally think of a belligerent +stork. + +"Y--yer c--c--couldn't, th--that's wh--why," he yelled. Then, sticking +his head forward until his face was almost touching his brother's, he +vented his scorn in a single yell. "Y--a--ah!" + +This was too much for Harry's imitation of goodness, and he gave chase +at once. Horry, handicapped by the loss of one shoe, which was now +almost out of sight, had made but two jumps when Harry caught him. +They clinched and went down in a heap. Sally couldn't tell whether the +stockinged foot belonged to the under or the upper twin. She laughed +again. They seemed to prefer to fight anyway, so why not let them? + +The kite was now up as far as it could go. The rope was all out, and +Everett was holding to a post of the fence. Dick came running over the +field toward the prostrate twins. + +"Here, you twins!" he called. "Stop your fighting. Get up!" + +He seized the upper twin, jerked him to his feet and gave him a shake. +It proved to be Horry. + +"L--l--lemme 'l--l--lone!" cried Horry. "I ain't d--doin' +an--an--yth--thing to y--you. Wh--wh--where's m--m--my sh--shoe? +G--g--gimme m--my sh--shoe." + +Harry scrambled to his feet. "Y--you l--l--let m--m--my b--brother +al--l--lone, D--Dick. P--pitch in, H--H--Horry." + +Accordingly they both pitched in. Dick had his hands full for a +minute. Sally ran up. + +"Everett is calling you." + +"Pugnacious little beggars!" said Dick. + +He knocked their heads together, gently, and ran off, leaving the +twins with blazing eyes, looking after him. They began to splutter. + +"It's all entirely your own fault," Sally began hastily, "and you know +it. Look at the kite." + +The kite was pitching in the gusty wind. The tail was not long enough +nor the rope either. Occasionally it would dive head down, but Everett +always managed to check it, and it rose again, twitching from side to +side. + +"M--m--my sh--shoe!" Horry cried, after one of the dives. He started +off over the field. "I'm g--g--goin' t--to g--g--get it." + +The kite dived again, straight down. Horry was almost under it, the +sight of his shoe, not more than a hundred feet above his head, making +him reckless--if anything was needed to make him so. + +"Horry!" Sally called anxiously. "Come away. You'll get hurt." + +But he showed no disposition to come away. He followed the kite, +keeping just under it, his arms upraised. Sally ran towards him; and +at that moment Everett succeeded in checking the downward dive of the +great kite, which rose slowly, tugging and twitching at its rope +viciously. It was like a live thing compelled to go up against its +will and determined to come down. It was pretty low now and it seemed +likely that the kite would have its way. + +Dick seemed to think so. "It's no use, Ev," he said. "Better let it +down easy and we'll put on more ballast." + +Everett gritted his teeth and made no reply. If any kite was to get +the better of him, it would have to fight for it. He wouldn't give in. + +"You'll have it smashed up," Dick warned him quietly. + +As he spoke, the kite gave two violent pitches and dived once more. +Even Everett could not stop it and it came down like lightning, +straight at Horry Carling. Sally saw it and so did Horry. Horry seemed +to be paralyzed; and Sally precipitated herself upon him, bearing him +to the ground, but a little away from the kite. The next instant the +heavy kite struck the ground with great force and two of its sticks +broke. It had struck Sally on her outstretched left foot and may have +broken something more than kite sticks. + +The broken kite fell over upon Sally and Horry. Horry began to +struggle. + +"L--l--lemme g--g--get out," he yelled. + +"Keep still!" said Sally. "I'll get up and then--oh!" Sally was +already part way up. There was a terrible pain in her left leg. She +felt dizzy. "I--I think--I'll lie down," she murmured; and she +fainted. + +Sally opened her eyes presently, and smiled vaguely. The kite was +gone, she was lying upon her back and Everett and Dick were bending +over her, while the Carlings and the other small boys gazed in +awe-struck silence. + +"Where's the kite?" Sally asked weakly. She was not quite herself yet. + +"Never mind about the kite, Sally," Dick answered; "it's broken and +I'm glad of it. Where did it hit you?" + +"I've a pain in my left leg," said Sally. "It's a pretty hard pain." + +Her lips were white as she spoke, and she pressed them together to +stop their quivering. She did not mean to cry. + +"We'll carry you in," said Dick. + +So he and Everett made a chair by crossing their hands, each hand +clasping one of the other boy's. Then they stooped down and Sally +managed to sit upon their clasped hands. It was the first time that +she had seen this device. + +"I'm afraid I shall fall off," she said. "Do you mind if I hold on to +you?" + +Dick laughed quietly. "Put your arms round our necks and you won't +fall. It's as easy as a cradle." + +Sally's color was quite restored and she was conscious of no pain as +she made a triumphal progress along Box Elder Street with one arm +about Dick's neck and the other about Everett's. The Carling twins +followed closely, Horry absent-mindedly carrying his shoe in his hand, +and the other boys came after. + +As Dick and Everett started to carry her upstairs, it was the happiest +moment that Sally had ever known. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Cousin Patty was in Sally's room. Cousin Patty was not, as it chanced, +fully dressed. + +"Well, Sally," she said, going towards the door, "I must go. It's +almost time for the doctor." She paused an instant, then went on +plaintively. "He hasn't been here, except professionally, for a long +time--some years. But there was a time when he came often." Miss Hazen +sighed involuntarily. + +The sigh was long and quivering and it interested Sally. "Oh, Cousin +Patty," she said eagerly, "will you tell me about it--about that time, +I mean?" + +Cousin Patty looked at Sally with the soft light of reminiscence in +her eyes. "Oh, well," she replied, with affected carelessness and +laughing lightly, "perhaps I will, if you are really interested to +hear about it. Now I must go, but I'll be back in a few minutes." + +She went out and shut the door; and Sally heard a muffled shriek and +Cousin Patty's door slammed. An instant later, her own door opened and +Doctor Beatty appeared. He was smiling. + +"Nearly scared Patty into a fit," he said. "She ought to know my +habits by this time." + +Miss Patty soon came in again, clothed but not quite in her right +mind. Her color was still high and she seemed a little flustered. +Doctor Beatty did not turn around. + +"Oh, there you are, Patty," he said. "I won't look, you know, until +you give the word." + +"How absurd!" Miss Patty exclaimed. She meant to be very dignified, +but she was very nearly smiling. "But that is to be expected. You +always were absurd." + +The doctor's visit was a long one; and, when it was done, Miss Patty +went to the door with him. + +"It has seemed quite like old times," she said softly. + +For a moment the doctor did not know what she was talking about. +"What?" he asked blankly. "Oh, yes, it has, more or less, hasn't it? +Good-bye, Patty. Keep your liver on the job. You're looking a little +bit yellow." + +There were tears in Miss Patty's eyes when she went back to sit with +Sally. + +"Doctor Beatty," she remarked after a short silence, "is not what he +was in the old days. He seems to have coarsened." + +Sally did not know what reply to make, so she made none. + +"He never used to say anything about my--my liver," resumed Miss +Patty, "when he called. He was practising then, too. It is painful to +me to see such a change in a man like him. Now, in the old days, when +he used to be here a great deal,--a _very_ great deal, Sally,--he was +not at all like that." And Miss Patty sighed. + +Just then the maid came up to announce the Carlings. + +"An', Miss Patty," she continued significantly, "Charlie's in the +kitchen." + +"Oh, is he? I'll come right down and get him." The maid withdrew. "The +dear little boy!" said Miss Patty. "I suppose he's eating what he +ought not to. I'd like to let him have anything he wants, but I know +it wouldn't be good for him." + +She rose rather hastily, but paused with her hand on the door. "Of +course, Sally," she said with a short little laugh, "you are not to +think that I had any--Oh, here are the twins, Sally." + +Miss Patty fled and the Carlings entered. + +"H--h--hello, Sally," they cried. "H--h--how's your l--l--leg?" + +Sally laughed. "It's my foot, not my leg, and it doesn't hurt me at +all, hardly." + +This appeared to upset the concerted programme of the twins. + +"B--but y--you s--s--said your l--l--leg hurt," objected Harry. + +"Well, so it did," Sally replied; "but it's my foot that's broken." + +"Your f--f--foot b--b--broken!" said Horry in astonishment. "H--h--how +c--can a f--f--foot b--be b--b--broken? D--d--does it w--work +ar--r--round?" + +"Not now, for it's all done up stiff in bandages." + +Horry was not allowed to pursue his inquiries, for the maid was at the +door again, announcing Richard Torrington. Sally sat up straighter, +and her cheeks were flushed and her eyes rather bright. The twins eyed +her with suspicion. + +As they passed down the broad stairs Harry nudged Horry again. + +"S--S--S--al--l--ly's s--stuck on D--D--Dick," he whispered. + +"S--s--sing it," said Horry, chuckling. + +"W--w--won't d--do it," replied Harry indignantly. His indignation +rose at every step. "Y--you r--r--rotten b--bum, y--you! W--w--wanted +t--to m--m--make m--me m--m--make a f--f--" The front door banged +behind the twins, and Sally heard no more. + +She had heard Harry's whispered remark and had glanced fearfully at +Dick. He seemed unconscious, and a great joy surged in Sally's heart. + +The first morning that Sally came downstairs--on crutches--she managed +her crutches unskillfully and fell half the flight. Uncle John and +Cousin Patty, followed closely by Charlie, hurried to her. Uncle John +was the most alarmed. He stooped and would have raised her head, but +Sally saved him that trouble and smiled at him. + +"I'm not hurt one mite," she said. She was not. "Wasn't I lucky?" + +He gave a great sigh of relief. + +"I was afraid," he replied. "I'm thankful that you're not. Are you +sure, Sally?" he asked anxiously. + +"Oh, yes, I'm sure." And, to convince him, Sally jumped up, nimbly, +and hopped about on one foot. + +Uncle John smiled. "It isn't very wise to try such experiments. Now, +you're to sit beside me at the table, hereafter. We can't risk that +foot, for it would be more of a misfortune to our Sally and to us if +anything serious happened to it than she realizes." + +Sally had noted the way he spoke of "our Sally"; it was affectionate, +genuinely so. There could not be the least doubt about it. + +"Now," he continued, "you will please to take my arm." + +"Oh, father," remonstrated Miss Patty, "is it safe?" + +"Quite safe, Patty," he returned quietly, "and I wish it." + +It is not to be wondered at if Sally squeezed his arm a little. She +could not say what she wanted to, right there before Cousin Patty and +Charlie. It is hard to see why she couldn't, but Uncle John seemed to +understand; and they walked solemnly in to breakfast, Sally wielding +one crutch and Uncle John the other. + +"We're two old cripples, Sally," said he. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Sally wrote Fox about it all, of course. There would have been no +excuse for her if she had not; and she wrote Henrietta, too, although +she had some difficulty in making the two letters cover the same +ground without saying the same thing. This was one of the times when +Sally's letters to Henrietta came in bunches. She alluded to her +accident in one of her letters to Doctor Galen, and he answered it +almost immediately, giving her four pages of excellent advice and +ending by taking it all back. + +"Fox tells me," he wrote, "that you have Meriwether Beatty looking +after you. In that case please consider all this unsaid. I know +something of Doctor Beatty and I am sure you couldn't be in better +hands--unless in the hands of Doctor Fox Sanderson. Have you heard +that Fox has decided to be a doctor and that he is studying with me +besides taking his course in the medical school?" + +No, Sally had not heard it. Fox was strangely reticent about himself. +He had not mentioned, even, that he had found a tenant for their +house; a tenant who would respect all of Sally's little affections--or +great affections, if you prefer--for trees from which the gynesaurus +had been wont to gaze out over the coal swamps, ages ago; a tenant +who, strangely enough, was named Sanderson. She learned this piece of +news, or inferred it, from one of Henrietta's letters. Henrietta had +supposed that Sally knew it already. + +Sally was feeling very tenderly affectionate towards Fox over this +news, and very much elated over the doctor's announcement, for it +could hardly fail to be evident what prosperity for Fox was implied in +Doctor Galen's great good will. She wrote to Fox at once, +congratulating him. + +"Everybody here seems to think that Doctor Galen is It, and so do I," +she went on. "I read Doctor Beatty what Doctor Galen said about him, +and you ought to have seen him. He looked pleased as he could be and +he smiled--he tried not to--and he positively blushed. Then he began +to talk about my foot, but my foot is not worth talking about now. It +is almost well. I go about quite easily with my crutches and Uncle +John takes me for a walk every morning, before he goes downtown. It +makes him late in getting down, but he doesn't seem to mind. Uncle +John and I have got quite fond of each other. Really, Fox, Uncle John +is the best person here. He is so kind and thoughtful and, Fox, so +polite! His politeness seems to be a part of him. Yes, I am very fond +of Uncle John. Of course, I am fond of Cousin Patty, too, but I like +Uncle John more. + +"And there are other ways I have of going out. Dick Torrington has +come in every afternoon since I hurt my foot, and, now that I can get +about so well, he takes me for a walk. It's very slow business for +him, of course, but he doesn't seem to mind, either. It's astonishing +how many people don't seem to mind. Dick is _very_ nice and kind and +satisfying. He reminds me of you in many ways. He always treats me +like a person,--as if I were as old as he is,--not as if I was only a +little girl and of no consequence, as Everett Morton seems to think. +Dick seems to _like_ to take me out. He is going to take his +examinations for Harvard this June, and he is a little afraid he won't +pass. He failed in a good many of his preliminaries--is that spelled +right?--last year. He isn't very quick at his studies. He says so +himself, so he knows it. I hope he will pass and I wish I could help +him. Uncle John says Dick's all right. Uncle John takes me to walk +again when he gets back, so that I have walking enough for a little +girl with crutches. I shan't need them very much longer, but Doctor +Beatty wants me to be careful and not to climb trees for quite a +while. There aren't any good trees here. + +"I hope you know, Fox, that I am very glad you and Henrietta are +living in our house and that I appreciate it. Write me about all the +old places, will you?" + +Fox smiled with amusement at himself to find that he felt a distinct +pang at Sally's account of Dick. If Dick was good to her there was no +reason in the world why he should not take her walking as much as he +would. But he, Fox, missed her companionship. Sally was one to be +missed. + +Dick did not succeed very well with his examinations. He had as many +conditions as it is permitted to a boy to have, and he had to study +hard all that summer. So the walks with Dick became less and less +frequent until they ceased altogether. Dick is not to be blamed. Sally +was only twelve and he could not have known how much his daily +companionship meant to her. If he had known, he would have managed, +out of the goodness of his heart, to see her oftener than once a week. +Dick was the only intimate friend that Sally had. + +Uncle John did not desert her merely because Dick had done so. They +became almost inseparable; so much so that old Cap'n Forsyth, chancing +to meet Mr. Hazen alone, one afternoon, cried out in astonishment. + +"Hello, John!" he cried in his great bluff voice, a voice that had +been heard, often, above the roaring of the wind in the rigging and +the hissing of the seas. "Hello, John! Where's the other one? Anything +the matter with her?" + +Uncle John smiled quietly. "I hope not, Stephen. I sincerely hope not. +I haven't been home yet, or you wouldn't find me alone, I trust." + +"I believe you're in love, John," Cap'n Forsyth cried again. He might +have been heard a block away. + +The smile had not left Mr. Hazen's face. "I believe I am, Stephen. I +believe I am." + +"She's worth it, is she?" roared Cap'n Forsyth. + +Mr. Hazen nodded. "She's worth it, Stephen." + +"I'm glad to hear it, John," Cap'n Forsyth shouted. No doubt he +thought he was whispering. "It's getting to be as common a sight--you +and Sally--as those Carling nuisances. And Patty's just as bad with +that little boy brother of hers. I hope he's worth it, too. Good-bye, +John." + +There was some doubt in Uncle John's mind as to Charlie's being worth +it. He and Patty were inseparable, too, and Charlie was not improved. +He was in imminent danger of being spoiled, if the mischief was not +already done. Uncle John sighed and turned homeward. He found Sally +sitting on the front steps, waiting for him. + + * * * * * + +After Dick went, in the fall, Sally had nothing to do but to try to +play by herself and devote herself to her studies and miss Dick. She +found that she missed him almost as much as she had missed Fox. As for +playing by herself, she had had that to do nearly all summer; for, +although she had tried, conscientiously, she could not feel any +interest in the other girls of her own age. They were uninteresting, +somehow. Uncle John was better, and she got into the habit of going +down to his office in the afternoons and coming home with him. Miss +Patty was very glad to have her do it. It relieved her mind; in case, +you know, he should stumble or slip or--or anything else should +happen. She felt that Sally was to be relied upon, and so she was; but +Miss Patty was putting a rather grave responsibility upon her and she +was a little too lonely. It is not good for little girls to be lonely. +She was unaware of the responsibility. + +Sally's school was a diversion. Diversion seems to be the right word. +There were about seventy scholars in the school; and, with six +classes, that makes about a dozen scholars to a class, more or less. +The lower classes had more and the upper classes, by natural processes +of elimination, had less. Sally's class had fourteen; and Sally had no +trouble at all in standing at the head of a class of fourteen. It had +made Dick envious--no, not envious, for Dick was never that; but it +was a constant wonder to him that any one should be able to stand +first in fourteen with so little work. + +In the great schoolroom, where all the scholars sat when they had no +classes to go to, the boys sat on one side and the girls sat on the +other. They were given seats according to their rank, the first class +at the back of the room and the sixth class right under the eye of +the principal, almost under his very hand. In general, this was a good +arrangement. It happened, however, that the worst behavior was not in +the lowest class, but in the fourth, which was Sally's class. So +Sally, from her seat in the fourth row from the front, saw Eugene +Spencer, commonly called "Jane," suddenly haled from his seat at her +side--Sally sat next to the boys and Jane next to the girls--and, +after a severe lecture, assigned a desk within touch of the desk of +the principal, Mr. MacDalie. + +Jane was a boy of immaculate and ladylike appearance. He listened +respectfully to the lecture and received the assignment of the desk +with a bow of thanks; all of which behavior was, in itself, +unobjectionable. Jane had a knack at that. But it drove the principal, +who was a man of irascible temper, into a white-hot rage, which Jane +respectfully sat through, apparently undisturbed. A suppressed +excitement ran along the rows of boys, who were as if on tiptoe with +expectation of what might happen. Sally, herself, was trembling, she +found; for it seemed, for a few minutes, as though the principal would +do Jane bodily harm. But nothing happened. The white-hot rage cooled +quickly, as such rages do; and the principal smiled with amusement, +changing in a moment, as such men change, and went on with his hearing +of the class in Civil Government. + +Sally was very glad that Jane was gone from his seat beside her, for +he had almost convulsed her by his pranks on countless occasions and +had very nearly made her disgrace herself by laughing aloud. She had +fears, however, still; for Jane's new desk was between the principal +and the classes that he was hearing, and was on the floor, while the +principal's desk was on the platform. Jane, therefore, was, in a +measure, concealed from the view of the astute MacDalie, but in full +view of the class, which occupied benches a few feet behind him. +Moreover, the desks on either side of Jane's--there were three of them +in a row, of which Jane occupied the middle one--were occupied, +respectively, by the Carlings. The Carlings always occupied those +desks. They had got to feeling a sort of proprietorship in them. Jane, +however, knew too much to continue his mischief on that day. He was +filled to the brim with it, that was all, and it was only a question +how long before it would run over. + +Sally was glad when the bell called her to a class downstairs; and she +sat as if in a trance and watched Jane Spencer gravely fishing in the +aquarium tank with a bent pin on the end of a thread. He kept on +fishing all through the class hour, unhindered. The single little fish +in the tank tugged at the pin occasionally, without result; and, when +the bell sounded again, Jane folded up his line and put it in his +book. + +"No luck," he observed, bowing to the teacher. + +"Too bad!" said the teacher sympathetically. + +"Yes, isn't it?" said Jane; and he withdrew in good order, leaving the +teacher smiling to himself. What was he smiling at, I wonder? + +Jane never descended to such behavior as sitting with his feet in his +desk, as Oliver Pilcher did. No doubt he considered it undignified and +generally bad form, which unquestionably it was. Moreover he would +thereby run the risk of getting caught in a situation which he +regarded as unprofessional. Oliver Pilcher was caught several times, +for it is somewhat difficult to get one's feet out of one's desk as +quickly as is necessary to avoid that humiliation. If you do not +believe it, try it. + +Jane may have tried it or he may not. He preferred a different sort of +misbehavior; it was especial balm to his soul to be thought to be +misbehaving and then to prove that he was not, for that was a joke on +the teacher which was apt, for reasons unknown, to make him hopping +mad, and Jane's end seemed to have been attained when he had made the +teacher hopping mad. He was apt to appear to be very inattentive in +class, thinking--but I do not know what he was thinking. Even Mr. +MacDalie was deceived occasionally. Jane would be sitting, looking +out of the window, perhaps, with his book face down beside him, while +the Latin translation dragged by painful jerks along the other end of +the class. Mr. MacDalie would have noted Jane's attitude, as he noted +everything, and would call upon him suddenly and, as he supposed, +unexpectedly. And Jane would take up his book, deliberately, and, +rising, begin at the very word and give a beautiful and fluent +translation until he was stopped. Sally saw that happen four times +that half-year. + +The last time, the principal smiled broadly and lowered his book. + +"Well, Eugene," he said,--he almost called him "Jane,"--"you fooled me +nicely. That translation was very nearly perfect." + +"Thank you, sir," Jane replied gravely; and he sat down and placed his +book, face down again, upon the bench beside him and resumed his +gazing out of the window. + +One day during Dick's Christmas vacation there was a great sleighing +party. There was no reason in the world why Sally should have expected +to be asked or wanted to be. She told herself so, many times; but she +was disappointed, grievously. Mr. Hazen saw it,--any one could see it +plainly,--and, because he could not bear that Sally should feel so, he +asked her if she wouldn't oblige him by going sleighing with him. And +because she couldn't bear to disappoint Uncle John, Sally went. She +was grateful to him, too. So it happened that two people, who would +have much preferred going anywhere on their own feet, were wrapped in +a buffalo robe,--one of the last of them; a robe of which Mr. Hazen +was very proud,--and, thus protected against the cold, were being +drawn easily behind the stout horse. + +At the bottom of her heart, Sally despised sleighing only a degree +less than she despised driving in a carriage. She thought she should +like riding, but of riding a horse she knew nothing. She had never in +her life been on a horse's back. As for sleighing, she thought, as +they drove along, that they might as well be in her room, sitting in a +seat that was not wide enough for two, with a buffalo robe tucked +around their knees. With the window wide open and bells jingled +rhythmically before them and an occasional gentle bounce, the effect +would not be so very different. As she thought of this, she began to +chuckle at the humor of it. You may not see any humor in the idea, but +Sally did. + +A sleigh turned the next corner suddenly, and a look of anxiety came +into Mr. Hazen's face. "That's Cap'n Forsyth," he said. "A most +reckless driver. It's best to give him the road if we can." + +Sally recognized the captain, in an old blue sleigh, very strongly +built. The captain had need of vehicles that were strongly built and +he had them built to his order, like a ship. He was standing up in the +sleigh and urging on his horse, which was on the dead run. Captain +Forsyth kept the middle of the road and made no attempt to turn out. +Perhaps he could not. + +"Hello, John," he roared, waving his whip. "Hello, Sally." + +The horse must have considered that the waving of the whip was an +indication that the captain wanted more speed, and he put on an extra +burst of it. Captain Forsyth sat down suddenly. It only amused him. + +"What d'ye think o' that, John?" he shouted. + +"Turn out, turn out, Stephen!" Mr. Hazen called anxiously. He had not +succeeded in getting completely out of the road. + +"Can't do it, John," replied the captain, regaining his feet. The old +blue sleigh struck the other on the port quarter with a crash. It was +not the captain's sleigh that was injured. + +"Charge it to me, John," the captain roared. He did not turn even his +head. "By the sound I've carried away your after davits. Charge it to +me." And Captain Forsyth was borne swiftly away. + +That "Charge it to me" rang in Sally's ears as it died away upon the +breeze. She picked herself up, laughing. Mr. Hazen was not thrown out +and was unhurt. The horse stood quietly. + +"Are you hurt, Sally?" asked Uncle John anxiously. + +"Not a bit; and you aren't, are you? Now, what shall we do?" + +"I think there is enough of the sleigh left to carry us both if we go +slowly. If not, we'll have to walk." + +Presently Sally burst out into a new fit of chuckling. "How funny +Captain Forsyth is! What shall you do, Uncle John? Shall you charge it +to him, as he said to do?" + +"Oh, yes," Uncle John replied. "It would hurt his feelings, if I +didn't. He would consider it unfriendly. He has a good many to pay +for." + +"He had much better go on his own feet," said Sally reflectively. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +Sally was fifteen when the final good news came from Fox. She was in +Uncle John's office, waiting until he should be ready to go. Uncle +John's office was on the second floor of a little old wooden building +where it had always been since Uncle John had had an office. He had +chosen it because it stood just at the head of a short street leading +to a certain wharf--Hazen's Wharf; and because from its windows one +could see the length of the street and the length of the wharf and +note what was going on there and how many vessels were fitting. The +number of vessels that were fitting was surprisingly great, even now, +and Sally could see their yards sticking out over the wharf, although +their hulls were mostly hidden behind projecting buildings. That view +from his office windows had saved Mr. Hazen many steps in the course +of a long life. The fact that the business centre of the town had +moved up and had left him stranded disturbed him not at all. He was +still in his business centre. + +So Sally, thinking vaguely of Fox and Henrietta, sat at a window and +watched and was very well content with the view of the harbor and the +wharf and the ends of yards sticking over it, and as much of the hulls +of vessels as she could see, and the row of oil casks with a rough +fence of old ships' sheathing behind them, and the black dust of the +street. The black dust was stirred up now and then by the feet of +horses and by the wheels of the low, heavy truck that they were +dragging. Then a man, with a heavy mallet in his hand, approached the +row of casks and began to loosen the bungs. It was an operation that +had become familiar to Sally and she knew it to be preparation for the +work of the gauger, who would come along later and measure what was +in the casks. The man with the mallet and the gauger with his stick +were familiar figures. + +But certain other familiar figures drew into her view and watched the +man loosening the bungs, and seemed to be greatly interested in the +proceeding. They were the Carlings and Oliver Pilcher. Sally wondered +what mischief they were up to. That they were up to some mischief she +had not a doubt. The man with the mallet must have been a very +trusting, unsuspicious man. It is not at all likely that the angelic +faces of the singing twins and Oliver Pilcher were unknown about the +wharves. Even if they were, why, boys are all--even the best of +them--they are all cut by the same pattern, or they ought to be. Don't +we--you and I--feel a sort of contempt for a boy who is not? And don't +we call him "sissy" in our hearts? The other boys will not confine +their calls of "sissy" to their hearts and it is likely to go hard +with that boy. + +When the bungs were all loosened, that trusting man with the mallet +meandered slowly away, having paid no attention whatever to the boys +who watched him so innocently. Sally saw the Carlings looking after +him with an alert attention, whatever there was to be done being +evidently postponed until he was out of sight. She could not help +thinking how differently Jane Spencer would have acted. He would have +disdained to wait for the man to disappear, for there would not be any +fun in it for him unless there was some interested person present. But +Jane Spencer was Jane Spencer and there was only one of him. + +The man must have gone into some building, although Sally couldn't be +sure, for she couldn't see; but the twins turned their heads and +Oliver Pilcher gave a yell and leaped for the row of casks, closely +followed by the Carlings, who began chanting loudly. Sally could not +hear the words, but the chant marked the time to which Oliver Pilcher +leaped into the air and came down with force and precision upon one +bung after another. Just one cask behind him came Harry Carling. Sally +supposed it was Harry, for the Carlings always went in that order. +One cask behind Harry came Horry; and the casks gave out a hollow +sound, in accordance with their degrees of emptiness, after the manner +of casks,--especially oil casks,--as the three boys landed on their +respective bungs. + +The boys disappeared behind the corner of a building, but as the chant +continued, it was to be inferred that the exercise was not yet +finished; and in a moment back they came in the reverse order, landing +on the bungs with the same force and precision. For driving bungs +solidly, this method is to be commended. + +But Horry, perhaps feeling somewhat hurried as he got to the end, +missed his last bung, came down with misdirected force upon the +slippery staves and landed on his back in the oil-soaked dust. Harry, +unable to stop, landed upon him; but Oliver Pilcher made a sidewise +spring and cleared them. The twins had forgotten to sing--the moment +was too full of excitement--and were stuttering and pounding each +other. Their voices were just beginning to change. + +Some sound made Oliver Pilcher turn his head. Evidently, he hated to. + +"Cheesit!" he cried, beginning to run before the word was out of his +mouth. + +Harry did not wait to see what was coming, but got to his feet +instantly, dragging Horry by an arm, and ran. Horry protested +vehemently, but he ran, and the three boys came up the hill, directly +toward the office windows, and disappeared around the corner. Down on +the wharf the man with the mallet was patiently loosening the bungs +again. They came hard. + +Sally gasped and chuckled. "Did you see, Uncle John?" For Uncle John +was standing at her elbow. "Whose are they? The barrels, I mean." + +"They are mine, Sally," he replied, with a sigh. "I saw some of it." + +"Oh, it's too bad," said she quickly, "if they are yours." + +"It's no great matter. Patrick has plenty of time. It's only a little +annoyance." + +"And did you see the back of Horry Carling's jacket?" asked Sally, +horrified. "How will he ever get it clean?" + +"He can't," answered Uncle John briefly. + +"Their mother must have a hard time," said Sally thoughtfully, after a +moment of silence. "Are you ready to go now?" + +"Just about. Here's a letter for you, from Fox, I suppose. I'll be +ready by the time you have read it." + +Sally thanked him and took the letter. It contained rather momentous +news; news about her mother. It was good news, the best that could be, +Sally thought. She had been getting good news about her mother all +along. Indeed, she had been getting letters from her mother +occasionally for nearly two years; mere notes at first, her dear love, +scribbled on a scrap of paper. Then they began to be a little longer +and at lessening intervals; and for some months now they had been +regular letters, not long, to be sure, but letters. The improvement +was slow, very slow! + +This news was different. Her mother was well enough, at last, to leave +Doctor Galen's care. There were several things that she might do; and +Fox suggested that Mrs. Ladue come out to her old home to live. +Henrietta and he would be happy to continue there, if that met with +the approval of all concerned. There would be money enough to carry on +the establishment, he thought. But what were Sally's plans? What did +she prefer? Meanwhile-- + +Sally knew very well whose money there would be enough of, if Fox's +suggestion were accepted. It would mean that Fox would support them; +for she knew, too, that they did not have money enough. Oh, mercy, no, +not nearly enough; not enough even for them to pretend that it would +do. But she must be with her mother, and Charlie must, too. She would +not let Charlie be a bother. It would be a little harder than it used +to be, the care of Charlie, for Cousin Patty had--well--and Sally did +not say it, even to herself. She felt that it would be almost +treason. What should she do? What could she do, for that matter? It +needed thought. + +So Uncle John found a sober and serious Sally waiting for him. He +noted it at once. + +"What is it, Sally?" he asked. "Not bad news, I hope?" + +He spoke rather anxiously. Sally's worries were his concern; and that +was not such a bad state of affairs either. + +Sally smiled up at him. "Oh, no," she said. "It's good news, but I +have to think what I shall do." And she told him all about it. + +They were well on their way home by the time Sally had finished her +exposition of the question which troubled her. It was too new to her +to have been thought out and Sally presented every aspect as it +occurred to her. + +"It seems to be a large question," said Uncle John thoughtfully, "for +a little girl to have to answer, all by herself." Suddenly he turned +and looked at Sally. "Bless me! You aren't little any more. I must +stop calling you a little girl. How old are you, Sally?" + +"Fifteen last spring," Sally replied. "Had you forgotten, Uncle John?" + +"No, oh, no, I suppose not, but it is hard to realize that you are +growing up so fast. Why, you are nearly as tall as I am. And how long +have you been with us?" + +"Almost four years, Uncle John." + +"Bless me! So you have, Sally. It seems only last week that you came; +and yet, you have always been with us. Well, my dear, I don't find +myself quite ready to send you off again, and so I advise you to +dismiss the puzzling question from your mind for a day or two. Better +let me bother over it awhile. Fox can wait for a few days. He won't +mind, will he?" + +"No," she said, smiling, "Fox won't mind. He has been waiting four +years already." + +"Fox is an excellent young man," Mr. Hazen murmured. "I must see what +Patty has to say." + +Patty had a good deal to say. She came to her father in a hurry and +in some agitation that same evening, after Sally had gone to bed. It +saved him the trouble of introducing the subject and put the burden of +proof on the other side. Not that it mattered particularly to Mr. +Hazen where the burden of proof lay. He was accustomed to have his own +quiet way. In fact, consultation with Patty was rather an empty +formality; but it was a form which he always observed scrupulously. + +"Oh, father," she began, rather flurried, "what do you suppose Sally +has just told me? Her mother--" + +"I know. I was meaning to speak to you about it." + +"I am all upset. I can't bear to think of sending Charlie away now." +There were tears in poor Miss Patty's eyes. + +Mr. Hazen could not quite repress a smile. "True," he said; "I had +forgotten him." + +"Oh, father!" Miss Patty exclaimed reproachfully. "How could you?" + +"It is incomprehensible, but I was thinking of Sally. Never mind, +Patty, it comes to the same thing in the end. Would it be quite +convenient to ask Sarah Ladue to come here?" + +"Ask Cousin Sarah to come here to _live_?" Miss Patty echoed, in some +consternation. + +"Why, yes, Patty. I understand that she is likely to live and--" + +"Oh, father!" Miss Patty cried again. "You know I didn't mean--" + +"I don't pretend," Mr. Hazen resumed, smiling, "to any particular love +for Sarah, whom I never saw more than once or twice in my life. Even +that must have been many years ago. But, as I recollect, she was a +pretty, unassuming young woman whom I thought, at the time, altogether +too good for Charles." Miss Patty looked shocked. "Oh, there is +nothing gained by pretending to be blind to Charles's weakness. He was +a gambler before he left college. I knew it very well. There was +nothing to be done. Meddling with other people's children is a vice, +Patty. It never does any good. I have some misgivings--" Mr. Hazen +paused abruptly. There seemed to him nothing to be gained by following +out that line of thought either. + +"Some misgivings about what, father?" Patty prompted. + +"It doesn't matter, Patty. I have too many misgivings about +everything. It is the fault of age. As I come to think of it, Sally +looks like her mother. I hope her character--but Sally's character is +all right. As to Sarah, we have spare rooms, haven't we?" + +"Ye--es," assented Miss Patty reluctantly. She hated to give in, but +she might have known that she would have to. She did know it. "But, +father,--supporting the whole family--" + +"There is no question," said Mr. Hazen quietly; and Patty knew that +there was no more to be said. "It is a choice between letting that +young Mr. Sanderson support them,--which he would be very glad to do, +Patty,--and asking Sarah to come here. I much prefer to ask her. I +wish to keep Sally with us and you are not willing to let Charlie go. +On this plan we shall keep them both. Will you write to Sarah, +proposing it? Write as cordially as you can, Patty, will you? Thank +you." + +So it happened that Mrs. Ladue came to Whitby in September. It could +not be said to have happened, perhaps, but, at all events, she came. +They all went down behind the stout horse to meet her; all but Uncle +John. There were Cousin Patty and Charlie and Sally herself. Sally's +eyes were very bright and there was the old spot of brilliant color in +either cheek. Uncle John noticed it. He patted her hand as she got +into the carryall, but he did not speak. Miss Patty did, after they +got started. Sally was sitting up very straight and she was looking +straight ahead and the spots of color were in her cheeks still. It was +much as she had looked when she went away from her old home that she +so loved. Miss Patty could not understand it. She was even a little +afraid, I think. + +"Sally," she said hesitatingly, "don't--don't look so--so _strained_. +Surely, this is not a time to feel worried or anxious. Surely, this is +a--a joyous occasion." + +To Miss Patty's surprise, Sally burst out laughing. As Miss Patty had +implied, she did look strained. There may have been something a little +hysterical about her laugh. Miss Patty was more afraid than ever. She +proposed stopping at the apothecary's and getting a little camphor +or--or something. + +But Sally protested that she did not need camphor or anything. "You +know, Cousin Patty," she went on, the tears standing in her eyes, "I +haven't seen my mother for four years, and I don't know, quite, what +to expect. I am very--very _fond_ of my mother, Cousin Patty. I can't +help my feelings, but you needn't be afraid"--and Sally laughed a +little--"that I am going to have hysterics or anything, for I'm not." + +Miss Patty murmured some reply. Sally did not know what it was, and +Miss Patty didn't either. + +"I don't suppose," Sally continued, "that Charlie remembers mother +very well, for he--" + +"I do, too," said Charlie, with the pleasant manner which had become +usual. + +"Very well, then, you do," replied Sally patiently. And she said no +more, for they were already turning down the steep hill that led to +the station. + +In time--it seemed a very long time--but in time the train came in; +and Sally watched eagerly the crowd flowing down the steps and +spreading out on the platform. Presently, near the end, came +Henrietta, as fast as the people would permit. Sally gave a great sigh +of relief, for she was beginning to be afraid--and there was Fox. +Sally edged impatiently toward the car steps. Fox was not looking at +her; he was helping a lady whose eyes wandered eagerly over the +waiting people. The lady's mouth drooped at one corner and her hair +showed just a little gray behind her lifted veil. + +Sally ran forward, elbowing her way without remorse; she had but one +thought. Her chin quivered. A wave of tenderness overwhelmed her. + +"Oh, mother! Mother, dear! Don't you know me?" + +The drooping lips parted in a lovely smile. Sally felt her mother's +arms around her. How she had longed for that! + +"Why, Sally! Why, my own great girl! Why, darling, don't cry!" + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +They soon got used to Mrs. Ladue's gentle presence among them. Uncle +John got used to it more quickly than Sally did herself; much more +quickly than Cousin Patty did. But then, her coming was none of Cousin +Patty's doing, in spite of the fact that it was Cousin Patty who sent +the invitation. It took Patty some time to get over that. The things +that we are forced to do, however gentle the force may be, are seldom +wholly acceptable to us. As for Sally, her happiness was too great to +make it possible for her to get used to it immediately. She used to +run in when she got home from school and hug her mother. She wanted to +make sure that her presence was a "true fact," as she said. She wanted +to touch; to be certain that she had not dreamed it. + +Mrs. Ladue used to sit beside the table with its stained green cover, +in that very homelike back parlor, in the long evenings, with Uncle +John in his great chair before the bubbling fire. Miss Patty ran--or, +no, she did not run, literally. That would have been most undignified +besides being unnecessary; but it was probably unnecessary for Miss +Patty to go out so often and stay so long about her household duties. +The duties of the household rather oppressed Miss Patty and sat +heavily upon her. Household duties? Better be about them, Miss Patty +thought. So she flitted nervously in and out twenty times during an +evening. She was out more than she was in and her chair on the other +side of the fire from Uncle John's was usually empty. She went to +glance into the kitchen, to see what Bridget or Mary _could_ be about, +it was so quiet there. She hadn't heard a sound for the longest while. +"Don't you think I'd better see, father?" And her father would smile +quietly and tell her to do as she liked. Or she would wonder whether +the maids had locked the cellar door; or there was that window in the +pantry; or she had to see Charlie safely into bed, although one would +think that Charlie was very nearly old enough to see himself safely +into bed. There were things without end; anything that _might_ not be +just as Patty thought it should be. + +Uncle John and Mrs. Ladue sat quietly through it all, Mrs. Ladue with +her sewing or her embroidery or her crochet work or her book. She was +not much of an invalid, after all; not enough of an invalid to give +any trouble. She had to be careful, that was all. She must not get too +tired and she must have plenty of sleep. Those two things Doctor Galen +had enjoined upon her at parting, with much impressiveness. And he +thought that he might as well drop a line to Meriwether Beatty asking +him to keep an eye on her and to let him know how she was getting +along. "So you see, my lady, you are not out of my clutches yet," the +doctor finished merrily. To which Mrs. Ladue had replied, almost +tearfully, that she had no wish to get out of his clutches and that +she never could repay him and she didn't want to and she shouldn't +try. She _liked_ to feel that she owed her life to him-- + +"Tut, tut!" said the doctor, smiling. "Don't forget Fox." + +And Mrs. Ladue protested that there was not the least danger of her +forgetting Fox. She didn't know where they would all be if it had not +been for Fox, and she was very fond of him, and she thought--Then Fox, +himself, had appeared, and she said no more upon that subject, and +they got into their train and presently they came away. But, whatever +Mrs. Ladue's thoughts may have been, on that subject or on any other, +she said little and seemed to invite confidence. There is no reason to +believe that she wished confidences from anybody. It may have been +only that she kept her thoughts to herself, for the most part, as +Sally did, and that she was straightforward and truthful, as Sally +was. That is not to imply that Sally was an exact counterpart of her +mother. Probably Sally, in her mother's place, would have done very +differently; almost certainly her relations with Professor Charles +Ladue would have been different. Even as it was, it will be remembered +that he seemed to have a certain fear of his little daughter. He had +no fear of his wife. Mrs. Ladue's environment, to use a phrase that +needs a deal of explaining before we know exactly what we mean, had +been unsuited to her. + +The new environment was not unsuited to her, at least as far as Uncle +John was concerned. She helped to create an atmosphere of +tranquillity; an atmosphere eminently suited to an old man and one to +which that particular old man had not been accustomed. There was +nothing tranquil or serene about Miss Patty. Uncle John, it is to be +presumed, liked tranquillity and serenity. He succeeded in attaining +to a surprising degree of it, in his own person, considering. Sally +had been a help in the past four years; it was going on to five years +now. + +He was thinking upon these matters one evening as he sat reading. He +was thinking more of them than of the page before him. He put the book +down slowly, and looked up. Patty was upstairs with Charlie. + +"Sarah," he remarked, "I find it very pleasant to have you with us." + +Mrs. Ladue was surprised. There was no occasion for that remark unless +Uncle John just wanted to make it. Sally, who had not yet gone +upstairs, flushed with sudden pleasure and her eyes shone. + +"There, mother!" she cried. "There now! You see. What did I tell--" + +In Mrs. Ladue's face the faint color was coming and going. She spoke +with some emotion. + +"Thank you, Uncle John. It was kind of you to ask us. I find it very +pleasant to be here. And that--it would be so easy not to make it +pleasant. I haven't--I can't thank you suitably--" + +"There is no question of thanks, Sarah," he replied, smiling gravely. +"I hope you will put that out of your mind. You give more than you +get--you and Sally." + +"I am very glad," Mrs. Ladue murmured; "very glad and grateful. Sally +is a good girl." Uncle John smiled at Sally. "She would not bother +you--" + +Mr. Hazen reached forth and patted Sally's hand as it lay on the +table. "No. Sally doesn't bother me very much." + +"But Charlie," Mrs. Ladue continued, somewhat anxiously,--"Charlie, +I'm afraid, does. He has changed a good deal in these four years. He's +hard to manage." + +"Patty can't manage him, if you mean that," Mr. Hazen agreed. "She +doesn't try very hard. But he's developed in the wrong direction, +that's all, I think." + +"No." There was a curious hardness in Mrs. Ladue's voice and manner. +It did not seem possible that she could be speaking of her own little +son. "I doubt if he could be developed in any other direction. He's +very much like his father. His father was--" She stopped abruptly. +"But there is no use in going over that," she added. + +Mr. Hazen nodded. "I knew Charles before you did," he observed, +"and--but, as you say, there is nothing to be gained by going into +that. I may as well speak to Patty--again." + +"I have absolutely no influence with Charlie now," Mrs. Ladue sighed. +"It is natural enough that I should not have any." + +Mr. Hazen's talk with Patty amounted to nothing, as was to be +expected. No doubt he did expect it, for it is not to be supposed that +he could have lived with Patty Havering for nearly forty years without +knowing her traits. She had no real firmness. She had obstinacy +enough; a quiet, mulish obstinacy which left her exactly where one +found her. She was absolutely untouched by argument or persuasion, to +which she made little reply, although she sometimes fretted and grew +restive under it. Nothing short of her father's quiet "I wish it, +Patty" was of the least avail. She gave in to that because she knew +that it was a command, not because she knew that it was right. As to +that, was not _she_ always right? She never had the least doubt of it. +She sometimes doubted the expediency of an act; it was not expedient +to disobey her father's implied commands. Not that she had ever tried +it, but she did not think that it would be expedient. I don't think +that it would have been either. It was just as well, perhaps, that she +never tried it. But, in a matter like this one of Charlie, there was +no command direct enough to enforce obedience. You know what I mean, +as Miss Patty might have said; thereby implying that she hoped that +you did, for she didn't. She was not quite clear about it in her own +mind, but there seemed little risk in doing as she wanted to rather +than as her father wanted her to. Her own ideas were rather hazy and +the more she tried to think it out the more muddled she got. Anyway, +she said to herself, as she gave it up, she wouldn't, and she got up +from the rocking-chair which she permitted herself in her own room and +went briskly about her duties. She had sat there for as much as half +an hour. She had been watching Charlie chasing about Morton's lot, for +she could see over the high wall as she sat. Most of the boys were +tolerant chaps, as most boys are, after a certain age; but some of +them were not and some others had not reached that age of tolerance +apparently. Fortunately for Miss Patty's peace of mind she did not +happen to see any of that. + +Miss Patty, however, did not make public her decision, but Mrs. Ladue +knew what it was just as well as if she had shouted it from the +housetop. Where did a talk with Patty end but where it began? And Mrs. +Ladue had been sitting at her own window--she shared Sally's room--she +had been sitting at her own window while Patty sat at hers and looked +at Charlie over the wall. But Mrs. Ladue watched longer than Patty and +she saw several things which Patty was spared; to be sure, the wall +was very high and cut off the view from a large part of the lot, but +she saw Ollie Pilcher run after Charlie at last and chase him into +that part of the lot which she could not see. Ollie was not noted for +his patience, but Mrs. Ladue thought the loss of the remnants of it +was excusable, in the circumstances. Then there was an outcry and it +was not Ollie's voice that cried out. + +Mrs. Ladue sighed and got out of her comfortable chair and went +downstairs. She hoped she should be ahead of Patty when Charlie came +in. She was not, but she and Patty waited together; and Charlie came. +He was not crying, but the traces of tears were on his face. Miss +Patty gave a little exclamation of horror. + +"Charlie," began Mrs. Ladue hurriedly, before Patty could speak, "come +up with me. I want to talk with you." + +Charlie wanted to go with Cousin Patty; he didn't want to be talked +to. He said so with much petulance. + +"Let me take the poor child, Sarah," Patty began. + +"After I have talked with him, Patty," said Mrs. Ladue patiently. +Nobody should know how she dreaded this talk. "Come, Charlie." + +She made Charlie mount the stairs ahead of her and she succeeded in +steering him into her room. He washed his face with furious haste. + +"Charlie, dear boy," she said at last, "I was watching you for a long +time this afternoon. You know that I can see very well what goes on in +the lot from this window." + +He was wiping his face and he exposed his eyes for a moment, gazing at +his mother over the edge of the towel. They were handsome eyes and +they were filled now with a calculating thoughtfulness, which his +mother noted. It did not make her feel any easier. + +Charlie considered it worth risking. "Then you saw," he said, still +with that petulant note in his voice, "how the boys picked on me. Why, +they--" + +"I saw, Charlie," Mrs. Ladue interrupted, smiling wearily, "not how +the boys picked on you, but how you bothered them. I thought Ollie was +very patient and I didn't blame him a bit." + +"But he _hurt_ me," Charlie cried in astonishment. It was the most +heinous sin that he knew of. Patty would think so. + +"You deserved to be hurt. You are eleven, Charlie, and I'm surprised +that you don't see that your actions will leave you without friends, +absolutely without friends within a few years. Where should we be now, +Charlie," continued Mrs. Ladue gently, "if we had had no friends?" + +"Guess Cousin Patty'd be my friend," Charlie grumbled. "Guess she +would." + +"You will wear out even her doting affection if you keep on," replied +his mother almost sharply. It was difficult to imagine her speaking +with real sharpness. She regretted it instantly. "My dear little son, +why won't you do differently? Why do you prefer to make the boys all +dislike you? It's for your own good that I have talked to you, and I +haven't said so very much. You don't please Uncle John, Charlie. You +would be _so_ much happier if you would only do as Sally does and--" + +"Huh!" said Charlie, throwing down the towel. "Cousin Patty wants me, +mother." And he bolted out of the door. + +Tears came to Mrs. Ladue's eyes. Her eyes were still wet when Doctor +Beatty came in. He could not help seeing. + +"Not crying?" he asked. "That will never do." + +Mrs. Ladue smiled. "I have been talking to Charlie," she said, as if +that were a sufficient explanation. + +Indeed, it seemed to be. That, in itself, was cause for grief. "Ah!" +said the doctor. "Charlie didn't receive it with meekness, I judge." + +She did not answer directly. "It seems hopeless," she returned at +last. "I have been away from him so long that I am virtually a +stranger. And Patty--" She did not finish. + +Doctor Beatty laughed. "I know Patty. I think I may say that I know +her very well. Why, there was one period--" He remembered in time and +his tone changed. "Yes, there was one period when I thought I knew her +very well. Ancient history," he went on with a wave of his +hand,--"ancient history." + +Mrs. Ladue said nothing, but she looked sympathetic and she smiled. +Doctor Beatty sat down conveniently near her, but yet far enough away +to be able to watch her closely. + +Meanwhile the doctor talked. It was of little consequence what he +talked about, and he rambled along from one subject to another, +talking of anything that came into his head; of anything but Mrs. +Ladue's health. And the strange thing about it was that she had no +inkling as to what the doctor was about. She had no idea that she was +under observation. She only thought it queer that he had so much time +to devote to talking to her. He couldn't be very busy; but she liked +it and would have been sorry to have him give up his visits. + +Presently, in his rambling talk, the doctor was once more speaking of +the period of ancient history to which he had already thoughtlessly +alluded. + +"There was a time," he said, regarding Mrs. Ladue thoughtfully, "when I +thought I knew Patty pretty well. I used to be here pretty often, you +know. She has spoken of it, perhaps?" Mrs. Ladue smiled and shook her +head. "Ah, what a blow to vanity! I used to think--but my thoughts were +of scarcely more value then than they are now, so it's no matter what I +thought. It's a great while--fifteen or twenty years--struggling young +doctor in the first flush of youth and a growing practice. Practice +like an incubator baby; very, very frail. I suppose I must have been a +sentimental young chap; but not so young either. Must have been nearly +thirty, both of us. Then the baby got out of the incubator and I +couldn't come so often." + +He was speaking reminiscently. Then, suddenly, he realized what he was +saying and roused himself with a start. + +"Patty was charming, of course, charming," he went on, smiling across +at Mrs. Ladue. "Yes, much as she is now, with the same charm; the same +charm, in moderation." + +His eyes were very merry as he finished, and Mrs. Ladue laughed +gently. + +"Oh, Doctor," she said, "I ought not to laugh--at Patty. It's your +fault." + +Doctor Beatty looked horror-struck. "Laugh at Patty!" he exclaimed. +"Never! Nothing further from my intention. I only run on, like a +babbling brook. I'm really not responsible for what I say. No +significance to be attached to any observations I may make. You won't +mind, will you?" + +"I won't mind," Mrs. Ladue agreed. "I don't." + +"Thank you. I knew you wouldn't." Doctor Beatty rose and stood for a +moment with his hand on the knob of the door. "You're all right for a +couple of weeks anyway, or I'd warn you to keep your liver on the job. +I always give that advice to Patty, partly because she needs it and +partly because it is amusing to witness the starting of a certain +train of emotions. Good-bye." + +And the doctor went out, leaving Mrs. Ladue smiling to herself. She +had forgotten about Charlie. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Sally graduated from her school in the following June. Of all the +persons immediately concerned in that affair, even including Sally +herself, I am inclined to believe that Mr. Hazen was the most acutely +interested. He was not excited over it. A man of his age does not +easily get excited, even if he is of an excitable disposition, which +Mr. Hazen was not; but there is reason to think that he had all the +hopes and fears which Sally ought to have had, but of which she gave +no sign. She had confidence in herself and had no doubts to speak of. +At any rate, she did not speak of any, but took the whole thing as a +matter of course and one to be gone through with in its due season. +For that matter, nobody suspected Mr. Hazen of harboring fears, +although it was taken for granted that he had hopes. He gave no +outward sign of perturbation, and his fondness for Sally was no +secret. + +There was never, at that school, any long period without its little +diversions. Jane Spencer, to be sure, was in the graduating class and +his behavior had been most exemplary for some months; but there was no +such inhibition on the behavior of Ollie Pilcher and the Carlings. The +Carlings appeared one morning with grotesquely high collars, at the +sight of which a titter ran about the schoolroom. The Carlings +preserved an admirable gravity. Mr. MacDalie looked up, eyed the twins +with marked displeasure, but said nothing, and the titter gradually +faded out. The Carlings were aggrieved and felt that they had been +guilty of a failure. So they had, in a measure, and Sally could not +help feeling sorry for them. She reflected that Jane would never have +done anything of that kind. Jane would never have made a failure of +anything that he undertook, either. Jane would not have done what +Ollie Pilcher did, later, although that effort of Ollie's was a +conspicuous success, after its kind. + +It was the fashion, among certain of the boys, to have their hair +clipped when the warm weather came on. Everett Morton had never had it +done, nor had Dick Torrington, nor did Jane Spencer. They were not in +the clipped-hair caste. But Ollie Pilcher was; and it was no surprise +to the other boys when, a week before school closed, Ollie came with +clipped hair showing below his cap. He was just in time, and he went +at once and in haste to the schoolroom, removing his cap as he entered +the door. The bell in Mr. MacDalie's hand rang as he took his seat. + +Mr. MacDalie was not looking at Ollie, as it happened, but those +behind Ollie could not help seeing him. A ripple of laughter started; +it grew as more of those present caught sight of him. Mr. MacDalie saw +him. He chuckled wildly and the laughter swelled into a roar. Rising +from the top of Ollie's head of clipped hair was a diminutive braided +lock about three inches long, tied with a bow of narrow red ribbon. +And Ollie did not even smile while Mr. MacDalie was wiping his eyes +before him. His self-control was most admirable. + +The laughter finally subsided, for the time being, sufficiently to +permit King Ahasuerus and Queen Esther and Mordecai and Haman to hold +their audience spellbound for five minutes. That same audience had +been held spellbound by that same story throughout the whole of the +year just past and through other years; for Mr. MacDalie, for some +reason known only to himself and which Sally had tried in vain to +guess, had confined his reading so completely to the Book of Esther +that his hearers knew the book pretty nearly by heart. + +Although an unnatural solemnity prevailed through the reading, the +laughter would break out afresh at intervals during the morning. Mr. +MacDalie himself resolutely avoided looking in Ollie's direction as +long as he remembered. But he would forget, becoming absorbed in his +teaching, and his eye would light upon Ollie; and forthwith he would +fall to chuckling wildly and to wiping his eyes, and be unable to +continue for some minutes. He said nothing to Ollie, however, although +that youngster expected a severe reprimand, at least. It is not +unlikely that that was the very reason why he did not get it. The next +day the braided lock was gone. + +These were mere frivolities, perhaps unworthy of being recorded; and +there may seem to be an undue prominence given to mental comparisons +with Jane. But just at this time there was a good deal of Jane in +everything, and whatever was done by anybody naturally suggested to +Sally a comparison with what Jane would do. Sally was not without her +share of romance, which was, perhaps, more in evidence at this age +than at any other. She was just past sixteen, and she happened to be +devoted, at this period, to her English history. She is to be excused +for her flights of imagination, in which she saw Jane's ancestry +traced back, without a break, to the beginning of the fourteenth +century; and if the two Spencers of that time were not very creditable +ancestors, why, history sometimes distorts things, and if Edward II +had chanced to prevail over his wife and son, its verdict might have +been different. Jane was not responsible for his ancestors anyway. + +Everybody was present at the graduation exercises; everybody, that is, +of consequence in Whitby who was not prevented from being present by +illness. I allude more especially to the older generation, to the +generation of parents. All the mothers, not only of the members of the +graduating class, but of any members of any class and even of +prospective members, were there because they liked to be; the fathers +were there because they thought they ought to be. And there were many +besides, of a different generation, who were there for one reason or +another. Mr. Hazen was one of these and Everett Morton was another. + +It was easy to account for Mr. Hazen's presence, but not so easy to +account for Everett's, except that he was not doing much of anything +and thought the exercises might prove to be a diversion. Everett spent +his time, for the most part, in the pursuit of diversion. He was +through college. That does not mean that he had graduated, but, as he +said, it meant that he had left it in his sophomore year, upon the +breaking-out of the Spanish War, to volunteer; and after a hollow and +bloodless campaign in Porto Rico, he had returned, well smeared with +glory. Fortunately--or unfortunately, as you look at it--he had +escaped the camps. He did not think it worth while to go back to +college, and between ourselves, the faculty agreed with him +completely. It was the only instance of such agreement in the history +of their connection. Then he had got a place in a broker's office +which he held for a year and a half, but he had found it not to his +liking and he had given it up. Then came a long interval when his only +occupation seemed to be the pursuit of diversion. This was in the +interval. No doubt he managed to capture, occasionally, the elusive +diversion which he pursued so persistently, and no doubt, too, it was +of much the kind that is usual in such cases; but, one would think, he +found the pursuit of it an occupation more strenuous than that of the +broker's office. + +Dick could not come, for he was to have a graduation of his own in a +short time; in fact, it was hardly more than a few days. But he sent +Sally a little note, regretting that he could not be present and +wishing her luck; and further and more important, he asked if she and +her mother or Miss Patty or all of them would not come up to Cambridge +for his Class Day. + +Sally had got Dick's note just as they were starting. She handed it to +her mother, her gray eyes soft with pleasure--as they had got into the +habit of being, these last few years. + +"See, mother, dear," she said, "what Dick has asked. Do you suppose we +can go, mother, or would it be too much for you? I should like to +go." + +Mrs. Ladue smiled fondly at her daughter. "Of course you would, +darling. I'll see what Patty says, but I guess you can go. Perhaps, if +Patty doesn't want to, I can get Doctor Beatty to let me. I believe I +should like it myself. Now, don't let the prospect make you forget +your part." + +"No danger," replied Sally reassuringly. "Now I must run." + +Sally had the valedictory, or whatever it is to which the first +scholar in the class is entitled. I am not versed in such matters, not +having been concerned, at my graduation, with the duties or the +privileges of the first scholar of the class. But Sally had kept her +place at the head of a dwindling class with no difficulty and Mr. +MacDalie expected great things of her. She acquitted herself as well +as was expected, which is saying a good deal; and after the exercises +were over, she went out with Jane Spencer, leaving her mother and +Uncle John and Mr. MacDalie talking together. Patty was talking with +Doctor Beatty, who had come in late. + +Patty glanced up at Doctor Beatty with a smile. "Does that remind you +of anything?" she asked gently, nodding in Sally's direction. + +It is to be feared that the doctor was not paying attention. "What?" +He brought his chair and his gaze down together. He had been tilting +back in the chair and looking at the ceiling. "What? Sally? Her foot, +perhaps,--but that's all right years ago and it isn't likely that you +meant that. No, Patty, I give it up. What's the answer?" + +Miss Patty was disappointed. Perhaps she ought to have got used to +being disappointed by Meriwether Beatty, by this time, but she hadn't. +She sighed a little. + +"No, I didn't mean her foot. I meant her wandering off with Eugene +Spencer. He's the handsomest boy in the class. Doesn't it remind you +of--of our own graduation and our wandering away--so?" + +The doctor roared. "That was a good many years ago, Patty." It was +unkind of him to remind her of that. "You couldn't expect me to +remember the circumstances. I believe I am losing my memory; from old +age, Patty, old age." That was more unkind still, for Patty was but a +few months younger than he, and he knew it and she knew that he knew +it. "So we wandered away, did we?" + +Sally did not hear this conversation, for she was already halfway +downstairs with Jane. Neither of them had spoken. + +"Jane," she said suddenly. + +A shadow of annoyance crossed his face. "Sally," he mildly protested, +"I wish you wouldn't call me Jane--if you don't mind." + +"Why," returned Sally in surprise, "don't you like it? I supposed you +did. Of course I won't call you by a name you don't like. I'm very +sorry. Eugene, then?" + +"If you will. It's rather better than Jane, but it's bad enough." + +Sally laughed. "You're hard to please. How would it do for me to call +you Hugh--or Earl Spencer. Or, no. I'd have to call you your Grace." +She stopped and made him a curtsy; Jane was not to be outdone and, +although taken somewhat off his guard, he made her a bow with as much +grace as even Piers Gaveston could have put into it. + +"Your Highness does me too much honor," he replied solemnly; and they +both laughed from sheer high spirits. "No, Sally, you're wrong," he +added. "The old gentleman was no relative of mine. But I believe I +interrupted you. What were you going to say--right first off, you +know, when I asked you not to call me Jane?" + +"I was going to tell you that Dick Torrington has asked me to go up +for his Class Day." + +"Dick Torrington!" exclaimed Jane, mystified. "Why, Sally, he's ever +so much older than you." + +"Now, Jane, what has--I beg your pardon,--Eugene, but it's hard to +remember. But, Eugene, what has the difference in age to do with it? +It has never seemed to make any difference to Dick. You know that he's +as kind as he can be and probably he just thought that I would enjoy +it." + +They had passed through the crowded corridor--crowded because, in one +of the rooms on that floor, there was in preparation what the papers +would call a modest collation--and they were out in the yard. Jane +stopped short and looked at Sally with a puzzled expression. + +"I wonder, Sally," he said slowly, "if you know--but you evidently +don't," he added. He seemed relieved at the result of his inspection. +"Of course you'll go, but I can't help wishing you wouldn't." + +"Why?" she asked. "I mean to go if I can. Why would you rather I +wouldn't?" + +He hesitated for some moments. "I don't know that I can tell you. +Perhaps you'll understand sometime. Hello! What do you suppose they've +got?" + +Ollie Pilcher and the Carlings passed rapidly across their line of +vision. + +"Furtive sort of manner," continued Jane hurriedly. "I'll bet they're +hiding something. Let's see what it is. What do you say, Sally?" + +Sally nodded and they ran, coming upon the three suddenly. The +Carlings started guiltily and seemed about to say something; but +although they had opened their mouths, no speech issued. + +"Sing it, you twins. What have you got? Come, pony up. We spotted you. +Or perhaps you want the free-lunch committee to swoop down on you." + +If Sally had not been there the result might have been different. No +doubt Jane had made allowance for the moral effect of her presence. +The Carlings, severally, were still her slaves; or they would have +been if she had let them. They grinned sheepishly and Horry drew +something from under his jacket. It was done up in paper, but there +was no mistaking it. + +Jane reached forth an authoritative hand. Ollie remonstrated. "I say, +Jane,--" + +"Filcher," remarked Jane, "for filcher you are, although you may have +persuaded these poor innocent boys to do the actual filching--Filcher, +you'd better suspend further remarks. Otherwise I shall feel obliged to +divide this pie into quarters instead of fifths. Quarters are much +easier. It is a pie, I feel sure; a squash pie, I do not doubt. Is it +quarters or fifths, Filcher?" + +As Jane was in possession of the pie, Ollie thought it the part of +discretion to compromise. A clump of lilacs hid them from the +schoolhouse, and Jane divided the pie, which proved to be filled with +raisins, into five parts with his knife. + +"I wish to congratulate you, Horry, upon your excellent care of this +pie in transit." He passed the plate to Horry as he spoke. "No, this +is your piece, Horry. That piece is destined for me. In view of the +unavoidable inequality of the pieces, we will give Filcher the plate." + +Sally was chuckling as she ate her piece of pie, which she held in her +hand. + +"Th--th--this w--w--weath--ther's t--t--terrible h--h--hard on +p--p--pies," observed Horry thoughtfully, after a long silence. + +"It w--w--wouldn't k--k--keep," said Harry, wiping his mouth on the +back of his hand. + +"It wouldn't," Jane agreed. + +Ollie was scraping the plate. "Can't get any more out of that plate," +he sighed at last; and he scaled the tin plate into an inaccessible +place between the lilacs and the fence. + +They moved away slowly. "I wonder," Jane remarked, reflectively, "who +sent that pie." + +Sally chuckled again. "Cousin Patty sent it," she said. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Sally found that summer very full. To begin with, there was Dick's +Class Day, which was her first great occasion. I do not know what +better to call it and it must have been a great occasion for her, for, +although it did not last very long,--days never do,--the memory of it +has not completely faded even yet; and it was twelve years ago. + +As if to make her joy complete, her mother had gone and Miss Patty had +not. Not that Sally had ever the least conscious objection to Miss +Patty's going anywhere, but Patty always acted as a sort of damper +upon too much joy. Poor Patty! She had not the slightest wish to be a +sort of a damper and she did not suspect that she was. + +Mrs. Ladue was no damper. She had sat in Dick's particular easy-chair, +very smiling and content, while Dick brought things to eat and to +drink to her and to Sally in the window-seat. And there had been a +puzzled look in Dick's eyes all the time that made Mrs. Ladue laugh +and made Sally blush whenever she saw it. It was as if Dick's eyes had +just been opened; and he found it hard to realize that the blossoming +young creature in his window-seat was the same Sally that he had known +so well. That and other considerations will explain Mrs. Ladue's +laughter well enough, but hardly explain why Sally should have +blushed. I don't know why she did and I doubt if she could have told. + +Then--for Dick's Class Day was only to begin with--there were his +further good-natured attentions, which did not mean anything, of +course, Mrs. Ladue told herself, over and over. Of course Dick liked +Sally--who would not? And there was more fun in doing anything for her +than in doing it for anybody else, for Sally enjoyed everything so +much. Dick even took her sailing half a dozen times, although there +was nobody else on his parties younger than his sister Emily. And +there was Jane; but not on Dick's sailing parties. + +Jane's attentions to Sally were constant and rather jealous. How could +he help it? Dick was five years older than he, and, at seventeen, five +years is a tremendous advantage and one not to be made up by a +difference in natural gifts, concerning which there could be no doubt +either. Sally had some difficulty in keeping Jane pacified. She may +have made no conscious effort to that end, but she accomplished it, +none the less. + +When fall came, Sally went away to Normal School. It was not far from +Whitby, so that she was always within reach, but she had to be away +from home--Uncle John Hazen's was really home now--for the greater +part of two years. Her absence was a great grief to Uncle John, +although nobody suspected it but Sally. It would never have occurred +to Patty that it could make much difference to her father whether +Sally was here or there. Indeed, she did not think of it at all, being +more than ever engrossed in Charlie's career; and Charlie was in need +of a friend, although that friend was not Miss Patty. + +Another person who missed Sally's presence, if one could judge from +his behavior, was Jane Spencer. To be sure, it could have made little +difference to him that she was no longer in Whitby, except that +Whitby, although farther from Cambridge than Schoolboro', was easier +to get to. Nevertheless, as soon as Jane could snatch a day from his +arduous academic duties, he went to Schoolboro' and not to Whitby. +That was hardly a month after Sally had gone there, and she was +unaffectedly glad to see him. Therefore, Jane enjoyed his visit +immensely, and he made other visits, which were also to his immense +satisfaction, as often as Sally would let him come. There were four +that year. + +In November of her second year, Sally was called home unexpectedly by +an incoherent summons from Patty. She hurried home, filled with fears +and misgivings. What had happened to Charlie? She had no doubt that +Charlie was at the bottom of it, somehow, or it would not have been +Patty who sent the message. Had he had an accident? But Charlie +himself met her at the door, looking sulky and triumphant. + +Patty was almost hysterical, and it was a long time before Sally could +make out what was the matter. It seemed that Charlie had been +subjected to the usual mild hazing and, proving a refractory subject, +he had had his hands and feet strapped together and had been left +lying helpless in the yard. That was a final indignity, reserved for +boys who had earned the thorough dislike of their fellows, Sally knew. +She was deeply mortified. + +Her lips were compressed in the old way that she had almost forgotten. + +"I will settle it, Cousin Patty. It won't take long." + +Patty had, perhaps, mistaken the meaning of Sally's expression. At all +events, Sally looked very decided, which Patty was not. + +"Oh, will you, Sally? I felt sure that you would be touched by +Charlie's sufferings. He is your brother, you know, and--and all +that," she finished, ineffectively, as she was painfully aware. + +"Yes," Sally replied, still with that compression of the lips, "he +is." She had been about to say more, but had thought better of it. + +"Well," said Patty, after waiting some time for Sally to say what she +had decided not to, "thank you, Sally. Nobody else could attend to it +so well as you." At which speech Sally smiled rather grimly, if a girl +of seventeen can smile grimly. Her smile was as grim as the +circumstances would allow. + +She found Charlie suspiciously near the door. + +"Will you go and see old Mac, Sally? Will you?" + +"You come into the back parlor with me, Charlie," Sally answered, "and +I'll tell you what I'll do." + +When Charlie emerged, half an hour later, he was sulkier than ever, +but he was no longer triumphant. Sally went back to school that same +night. Patty did not summon her again. Sally had a way of settling +things which Miss Patty did not altogether like. + +Now it chanced that Jane chose the next day for one of his visits. It +was not a happy chance. The day itself was dull and gloomy and chilly +and Sally had not yet got over the settling of Charlie. Jane, to be +sure, did not know about Charlie, but it would have made no difference +if he had known about him. Sally greeted him with no enthusiasm; it +almost seemed to Jane that she would rather not have seen him. + +He looked at her in surprise. "What's the matter, Sally?" he asked. +"Why this--this apathy?" He had been about to call it indifference, +but decided against it. + +Jane was not without wisdom, if he did not show much of it on this +particular day. If it had been the case of another and that other had +asked his advice, he would have advised him to drop it all and go home +again. But, in our own cases, we are all more or less fools. Therefore +Jane did not drop it all and go home. + +Sally did not smile. "I don't know, Jane," she replied. "There's +nothing in particular the matter." Sally had given up the attempt to +break the Jane habit and Jane had given up objecting. + +"Well?" he asked, after waiting vainly for her to propose a walk. +"Shall we go for our usual walk? You know you don't like to stay in, +and neither do I." + +"I think," said Sally, "that I don't like anything to-day, so what +does it matter?" Surely Jane should have taken warning and run. "We'll +go out if you like." + +Jane looked at her doubtfully, but said nothing, which was probably +the best thing he could have said; and they went out, walking side by +side, in silence, until they came to a little stream which was +dignified by the name of "The River." There was a path along the bank. +That path by the river was much frequented at other seasons, but now +the trees that overhung it were bare and the wind sighed mournfully +through the branches, after its journey across the desolate marsh +beyond. On such a day it was not a place to cheer drooping spirits. It +did not cheer Sally's. + +Jane's spirit began to be affected. He looked at Sally anxiously, but +she gave no sign of ever meaning to say another word. + +"Sally!" he said. + +She glanced at him and tried to smile, but she made no great success +of it. + +"Well?" + +"Now, what is the matter, Sally? Won't you tell me?" + +"There's nothing the matter, Jane. I'm simply not in very good +spirits." + +"Sally," said poor Jane softly, "please cheer up and be light-hearted. +This isn't like you at all." + +"I can't help it," Sally answered, sighing. "I've tried. It doesn't +happen to me often. I'm not good company, am I?" + +"You're always good company for me," Jane said simply. Sally did not +seem to hear. "Try a pleasant expression," he continued, after a +pause, "and see what that does to your spirits." + +"Thank you," said she coldly, "for nothing." Then she changed +suddenly. "I beg your pardon again, Eugene. I was getting +ill-tempered. Would you have me put on a pleasant expression when I +don't feel like it?" + +He nodded, smiling. "To see the effect upon your spirits." + +"As if I were having my photograph taken?" Sally went on, "A sort of +'keep smiling' expression? Think how absurd people would look if they +went about grinning." + +"There is a certain difference between grinning and smiling," Jane +replied, "although I can't define it. And you would not look absurd, +Sally, whatever you did." + +"Oh, yes, I would," Sally said, more cheerfully than she had spoken +yet, "and so would you. No doubt I am absurd very often; as absurd as +you are now." + +Jane sighed heavily. "I've never seen it, Sally, although I should +like to see you absurd in the same way that I am now. I long to. You +couldn't be, I suppose." + +There was no answer to this remark. Waiting for one and listening, +Jane heard only the sighing of the wind across the desolate marsh and +in the trees, and the soft noise of the water flowing past. Poor Jane +was very wretched, largely, no doubt, because of the dreary day and +because Sally was wretched. He did not stop to ask why. Then he did +something which was very unwise. Even he, in more sober moments, +acknowledged its unwisdom. But, after all, would it have made any +great difference if the circumstances had been different--Sally being +what she was? I think not. Jane thought not. + +Jane leaned a little nearer. "Sally," he said softly, "can't you like +me a little? Can't you--" + +Sally looked up in surprise. "Why, Jane," she replied simply--and +truthfully, "I do like you. You know it." + +"But, Sally,"--Jane's heart was pounding so that he could not keep the +sound of it out of his voice, and his voice was unsteady enough +without that,--"but, Sally, can't you--can't you care for me? I--I +love you, Sally. I couldn't keep it to myself any longer. I--" + +"Oh, _Jane_!" Sally was the picture of dismay; utter and absolute +dismay. She had withdrawn from him a little. And she had forgotten the +state of her spirits. She was startled out of her apathy. "I didn't +know you were going to say that. Why, oh, why did you? What made you?" + +"I simply had to. I have been holding it in as long as I could, and I +couldn't see you feeling so, without--well, I had to." Jane spoke more +rapidly now. "And, Sally, I realize the absurdity of asking you now, +when I am not half through college and you are not through school, but +we could wait--couldn't we?--and if you only felt as I do, it would be +easier. I am--I shall have some money and I--" + +With an impatient wave of her hand Sally brushed all that aside. + +"That is of no consequence," she said,--"of no sort of consequence. +But why did you do it, Jane? Oh, why did you? You have spoiled it all. +I suppose we can't be good friends any more." There were tears in her +eyes. + +"I can't see why." Jane regarded her for some while without speaking. +Sally, I suppose, had nothing to say. "Does that mean," he asked at +last, "that you don't care for me in the way that I want?" + +"I should think you would know," replied Sally gently. + +"And--and you can't?" + +Sally shook her head. + +"Not ever?" + +Sally shook her head again. + +Jane stood, for a minute, gazing out over the desolate marsh. Then he +drew a long breath and turned. + +"Well," he said, smiling mirthlessly and raising his hat, "shall +I--shall we go back?" + +Sally was angry, but I don't know what for. "No," she was decided +about it; much more decided than was at all necessary. "You need not +trouble to go back with me." + +"Oh," said Jane. He smiled again and flushed slowly. "Then, if you +will excuse me, I will go to the station." + +So Jane was gone--or going--with head held high and a flush on his +face. He did not look back. Sally, as she watched him go, had a +revulsion of feeling and would have called to him. To what end? She +could not change her answer. And the sound died on her lips and she +stamped her foot angrily, and watched him out of sight. Then she fled +to her room and wept. Why, I wonder? Sally did not know. Suddenly she +had lost something out of her life. What? Sally did not know that +either. It was not Jane she wept for. Whatever it was, she knew that +she could never get it back again; never, never. + + + + +BOOK III + + + + +CHAPTER I + + +Mrs. Ladue was sitting in her room with a letter in her lap. The +letter was unfinished and it seemed likely that it might not be +finished; not, at any rate, unless Mrs. Ladue brought her wandering +thoughts back to it, although, to be sure, her thoughts may have had +more to do with it than appeared. She was gazing absently out of the +window and in her eyes there was a look both tender and sad; a look +that said plainly that her thoughts were far away and that she was +recalling some things--pleasant things and sad--dwelling upon them +with fond recollection, no doubt. It was a pity that she had not more +things which could be dwelt upon with fond recollection; but it may be +that she was dwelling fondly upon the recollection of what might have +been. There is much comfort to be got out of that kind of recollection +even if it is not very real. + +What was before her eyes was the Lot covered with untouched snow +billowed by the high wind and glistening, here and there, where that +same wind had hardened and polished the surface into a fine crust. +There was the same high wall, its cement covering a trifle less +smooth, perhaps, than it had been when Sally first saw it, but giving +a scant foothold even yet. And the wall was capped, as it had been +since it was built, with its projecting wooden roof, more +weather-beaten than ever and with the moulding on the under edges +warped away a trifle more, but still holding. There was snow upon that +old roof in patches, but the wind had swept most of it clean. And over +it all was a dull, leaden sky with more snow in it. + +Although all this was before her eyes, she may not have seen any of +it; probably she had not. Judging from her look, it was something +quite different that she saw. It may have been the early years of her +marriage--very early years they must have been and very far away +now--when Professor Ladue was still good to her and she still believed +in him. Or, perhaps, she was passing in review the many kindnesses of +Uncle John Hazen and Patty. For Patty had been kind in her own way; +and what other way could she use? Every one of us has to be kind or +unkind in his own way, after all, in accordance with the natures God +has given us. Perhaps Mrs. Ladue was thinking of Doctor Galen's +care--four years of it--or of Fox's goodness. Fox had not got over +being good to them yet. And she called down blessings on his head and +sighed a tremulous sigh, and looked down at the letter which she had +held in her hand all this time, and she began to read it again, +although she had already read it over twice. + +She had not got very far with her reading when the front door opened +and shut. At the sound of it Mrs. Ladue came back, with a start, to +the present. She flushed slightly and made a motion as if to hide the +letter hastily; but she thought better of it instantly, and she held +the letter in her hand, as she had done for some time. But the flush +grew and flooded her face with color. And the wave of color receded, +according to the manner of waves, and left her face unnaturally pale. +There was the sound of steps on the stairs and the door of the room +opened and Sally came in. + +A breath of the cold still clung about her. "Well, mother, dear," she +said, stooping for a kiss, "here I am, at last. I thought I never +should get out to-day." + +"Some poor infants have to stay after?" asked her mother. "How cold +you are, Sally! Is it as bleak and dreary as it looks?" + +"Oh, no. It's nice enough, after you've been out a few minutes. At +least it's fresh, and that's something, after hours of a schoolroom. +And I don't teach infants, if you please, madam." + +Mrs. Ladue laughed quietly. "It's all the same to me, Sally," she +replied. "I don't know the difference." + +Sally sat down on the bed; which was a very reprehensible old habit +that she had never been able to shake off. Not that she had ever +tried. + +"I'm going to get something done about the ventilation," she observed +decidedly; "at least in my room. It's wicked to make children breathe +such air." She glanced at the letter which her mother still held. +"Been writing letters, mother? Who to--if you don't mind my asking?" + +"'Who to,' Sally! A fine schoolmarm you are!" said Mrs. Ladue, +smiling, in mock reproach. "I hope that is not the example you set." + +Sally laughed lightly. "It was pretty bad, wasn't it? But there are +times when even the schoolmarm must relax. It hasn't got into my blood +yet, and I'm not a universal compendium. But I noticed that you didn't +answer my question. You may have objected to its form. To whom is your +letter written?" + +"Well," her mother answered, hesitating a little, "it isn't written +yet. That is, it isn't finished. It is to Fox. Don't you want to add +something, dear? Just a few lines? I have asked him if he doesn't want +to come on--and bring Henrietta, of course. See, there is room at the +end." + +Sally took the letter, but she could not have read more than the first +two or three lines when she glanced up, with a little half smile of +surprise and amusement. + +"Perhaps I had better not read it, mother, dear," she said gently. +"Did you mean that I should?" + +"Oh, yes," Mrs. Ladue answered carelessly, "read it if you like. There +is nothing in my letters to Fox that I want to keep secret from you, +Sally." + +There was the same little half smile of amusement on Sally's lips as +she read, and a sort of suppressed twinkle in her eyes. If you wanted +to know what Sally's thoughts were--what kind of thoughts--you would +soon have got into the habit of watching her eyes. They were merry and +grave and appealing and solemn and tender and reproachful and +thoughtful and disapproving, according to the need of the hour, +although they were seldom solemn or sad now. I suppose the need of the +hour did not lie in that direction now; at least, not nearly so often +as it had, ten years before. Sally's eyes were well worth watching +anyway. They were gray and rather solemn, normally, shaded by long, +dark lashes, and gave the impression of darkness and depth; but when +she was stirred to anger, whether righteous or not, they could be as +cold and as hard as steel. But enough of Sally's eyes. Too much, no +doubt. + +Mrs. Ladue's reflections, as Sally read, might be supposed to have +been rather disquieting. They were not. Presently she laughed. "The +letter may seem queer," she said, "but you must remember that I have +not seen Fox for four years, and I want to see him. I got very fond of +Fox in my years at Doctor Galen's." + +Sally looked up. "Of course you did, mother, dear. Of course you did. +It would be very strange if you had not. I am fond of him, too." + +Mrs. Ladue smiled in reply and Sally returned to her reading. She +began again at the beginning, with the "Dear Fox." + +"Dear Fox:" she read. She was not reading aloud. "To begin with what +should come last, according to all the rules, in a woman's letter, I +want to see you. It is the sole purpose of this letter to tell you +that, so you need not look for the important matter in a postscript. +It won't be there, for it is here. Do you know that it is nearly four +years since you were here? Is there no matter in connection with my +trifling affairs that will serve as an excuse--or is any excuse +needed? Can't you and Henrietta come on for a long visit? I know the +engagements of a doctor--such a doctor, Fox!--are heavy and that I am +very selfish to ask it. Sally would be as glad as I should be to see +you both here, I am sure. I will ask her to add a few lines to this +when she comes in. She has not got back from school yet. + +"Sally seems to be quite happy in her teaching. I remember when she +got her first month's salary--she got a position right away, with Mr. +MacDalie--she came flying into the house and met Uncle John in the +hall--I was halfway down the stairs--and threw her arms around his +neck. The dear old man was startled, as he might well have been. I may +have told you all this before. If I have, don't read it. Well, he was +startled, as I said, but he smiled his lovely, quiet smile. + +"'Bless me, Sally!' he said. 'What's happened? What's the matter?' + +"'This is the matter,' she cried, waving something about, somewhere +behind his ear. 'I've got my salary. And it's all my own and the first +money I ever earned in my whole life.' + +"The dear old man smiled again--or rather he hadn't stopped smiling. +'Bless your heart!' he said. 'What a terribly long time to wait, isn't +it? But it's hardly true that it is the first money you ever earned. +The first you ever were paid, perhaps, but you've been earning it for +years, my dear, for years.' + +"Sally kissed him. 'I'm afraid you're partial, Uncle John. But do you +know what I'm going to do with my munificent salary?' + +"Uncle John shook his head. + +"'I should like to pay it to you, on account,' said Sally. 'Oh, I'm +not going to,' she added hastily, seeing that he looked hurt, 'but I'm +going to pay for all my clothes, after this, and mother's and +Charlie's. I'm afraid it won't do much more, yet awhile, but give us +pocket-money.' + +"'Very well, Sally, if that will give you pleasure,' said Uncle John. +'I like to pay for your clothes, my dear, but just as you please.' + +"Those are sentiments which a girl does not often hear. Have you, +perhaps, said to somebody--but I won't ask. Sally's salary is enough +to do much more than pay for our clothes now. + +"Charlie goes to college this next fall. I think there is little or no +doubt of his getting in. He did very well with his preliminaries last +June. He is very bright, I think, but I sometimes tremble to think of +all that lies before him. Do you realize, Fox, that Sally is almost +twenty-one and that it is ten years--almost ten years--since that +terrible time when--" + +The letter broke off here. That last sentence must have started Mrs. +Ladue upon her gazing out of the window. + +Sally looked up soberly. "I'll add my request to yours, if you like," +she remarked; "but it's hardly likely that Fox will come just because +we ask him--in the middle of winter. He must be very busy. But I hope +he'll come. I should dearly like to see him--and Henrietta, of +course--" She interrupted herself. + +"Have you spoken to Patty about Fox, mother?" she asked,--"about his +coming here?" + +Her mother smiled whimsically. "Not exactly to Patty," she replied. "I +spoke to Uncle John." + +"That is the same thing, in effect," said Sally, chuckling. "Much the +same thing, but speaking to Patty might save her self-respect." + +"I thought," Mrs. Ladue suggested gently, "that if the idea seemed to +come from Uncle John it would do that. It is a little difficult to +convince Patty and--and I didn't like to seem to press the matter." + +Sally bent forward and kissed her. "I beg your pardon," she said. "No +doubt you are right." + +She took the pen and wrote a few lines in her firm, clear hand. Then +she tossed the letter into her mother's lap and sat silent, gazing out +of the window, in her turn, at the old, familiar wall and at the snow +beyond. + +"Mother," she asked suddenly, "what would you do--what would you like +to do if father should happen to turn up?" + +Her mother was startled out of her usual calm. Her hand went up +instinctively to her heart and she flushed and grew pale again and she +looked frightened. + +"Why, Sally," she said. She seemed to have trouble with her +breathing. "Why, Sally, he hasn't--you don't mean--" + +Apparently she could not go on. "No, no," Sally assured her hastily, +"he hasn't. At least, he hasn't that I know of." + +"Oh." It was evidently a great relief to Mrs. Ladue to know that he +hadn't. The tears gathered in her eyes and dropped slowly upon the +open letter in her hand as she spoke. "I--thought--I thought +that--that--perhaps--" + +Sally understood. "Oh, mother, dear, I only wanted to know what you +would do--what you would want to do. The thought occurred to me +suddenly. I don't know why." + +"I don't know, Sally. I don't know. I suppose we ought to go back to +him. But I don't know." + +Sally laughed and her eyes were cold and hard. If Mr. Ladue had heard +that laugh and seen her eyes, I think he would not ask Sally to go +back to him. "Oh," she said lightly--but her voice was as hard as her +eyes--"oh, there is no doubt about what I would do. I would never go +back to him; never at all. You shouldn't, either, mother. So put that +bugaboo out of your mind. I hope he won't ever turn up, not ever." + +Mrs. Ladue laughed and her laugh was ready and cheerful enough. "Oh, +Sally," she said, mildly remonstrating, "we ought not to say that. We +ought not even to think it." + +"We poor mortals seldom do as we ought, mother, dear," Sally replied +lightly. "You needn't have that fear a single minute longer." + + + + +CHAPTER II + + +Much to Sally's surprise, Fox came on and he brought Henrietta. + +"Doctor Sanderson's engagements cannot be very pressing," she said to +him, smiling, as she gave him her hand, "to permit of his coming +several hundred miles merely to see two lone women." + +Now Doctor Sanderson's engagements, as it chanced, were rather +pressing; and it was a fair inference from Sally's words that she was +not as glad to see him as he wished and had hoped. But her smile +belied her words. + +"Miss Ladue forgets, perhaps," he replied, bowing rather formally, +"that most of our patients are women, lone or otherwise, and that it +is all in the way of business to travel several hundred miles to see +them--and to charge for it. Although there are not many that I would +take that trouble for," he added, under his breath. "So look out, +Sally," he concluded gayly, "and wait until our bill comes in." + +That sobered Sally. "Oh, Fox," she said, "we owe you enough already." +Which was not what he had bargained for. Sally was looking at him +thoughtfully and seemed to be calculating. "Perhaps," she began, "I +could manage to--" + +"Sally," he interrupted hastily--he seemed even fierce about +it--"Sally, I'd like to shake you." + +Sally laughed suddenly. "Why don't you?" she asked. "I've no doubt it +would do me good." + +"That's better," Fox went on, with evident satisfaction. "You seem to +be coming to your senses." Sally laughed again. "That's still better. +Now, aren't you glad to see me?" + +"Why, of course I am." + +"Then, why didn't you say so?" he challenged. "Merely to gratify my +curiosity, tell me why you didn't." + +"Why didn't you?" Sally retorted, still chuckling a little. + +Fox looked blank. "Didn't I? Is it possible that I omitted to state +such an obvious truth?" + +Sally nodded. She was looking past him. "Oh," she cried quickly, +"there's Henrietta." + +"Another obvious truth," he murmured, more to himself than to Sally. +"There's Henrietta." + +Henrietta came quickly forward; indeed, she was running. And Sally met +her. Sally was quick enough, but she seemed slow in comparison with +Henrietta. + +"Sally, dear!" exclaimed Henrietta, kissing her on both cheeks. "How +glad I am to see you! You can't imagine." Which was a statement +without warrant of fact. If there was one thing that Sally could do +better than another, it was to imagine. "Come up with me and show me +my room. I've an ocean of things to say to you. Fox will excuse us, I +know." + +"Fox will have to, I suppose," he said, "whether he wants to or not." + +"You see," laughed Henrietta, "he knows his place." + +"Oh, yes," Fox agreed. "I know my place." + +Sally had not seen Henrietta for four or five years. Henrietta was a +lively girl, small and dainty and very pretty. Her very motions were +like those of a butterfly, fluttering with no apparent aim and then +alighting suddenly and with great accuracy upon the very flower whose +sweetness she had meant, all along, to capture; but lightly and for a +moment. The simile is Sally's, not mine, and she thought of it at the +instant of greeting her; in fact, it was while Henrietta was kissing +her, and she could not help wondering whether Henrietta--But there she +stopped, resolutely. Such thoughts were uncharitable. + +In spite of Sally's wonderings, she was captivated by Henrietta's +daintiness and beauty. Sally never thought at all about her own +looks, although they deserved more than a thought; for--well, one +might have asked Jane Spencer or Richard Torrington, or even Fox, who +had just seen her for the first time in years. Or Everett Morton might +have been prevailed upon to give an opinion, although Everett's +opinion would have counted for little. He would have appraised her +good points as he would have appraised those of a horse or a dog; he +might even have compared her with his favorite horse, Sawny,--possibly +to the disadvantage of Sawny, although there is more doubt about that +than there should be,--or to his last year's car. But he was driving +Sawny now more than he was driving his car, for there was racing every +afternoon on the Cow Path by the members of the Gentlemen's Driving +Club. No, on the whole, I should not have advised going to Everett. + +Sally, I say, not being vain or given to thinking about her own looks, +thought Henrietta was the prettiest thing she had ever seen. So, when +Henrietta issued the command which has been recorded, Sally went +without a word of protest, leaving Fox and her mother standing in the +back parlor beside the table with its ancient stained and cut green +cloth. Fox was not looking at her, but at the doorway through which +Sally had just vanished. + +"Well," he said at last, turning to her, "I call that rather a cold +sort of a greeting, after four years." + +Mrs. Ladue laughed softly. "What should she have done, you great boy?" +she asked. "Should she have fallen upon your neck and kissed you?" + +"Why, yes," Fox replied, "something of the sort. I shouldn't have +minded. I think it might have been rather nice. But I suppose it might +be a hard thing to do." + +"Fox," she protested, "you are wrong about Sally. She isn't cold at +all, not at all. She is as glad to see you as I am--almost. And I am +glad." + +"That is something to be grateful for, dear lady," he said. "I would +not have you think that I am not grateful--very grateful. It is one of +the blessings showered upon me by a very heedless providence," he +continued, smiling, "unmindful of my deserts." + +"Oh, Fox!" she protested. "Your deserts! If you had--" + +He interrupted gently. "I know. The earth ought to be laid at my feet. +I know what you think and I am grateful for that, too." + +To this there was no reply. + +"I think," he resumed reflectively, "that enough of the earth is laid +at my feet, as it is. I shall not be thirty until next fall." He spoke +with a note of triumph, which can easily be forgiven. + +"And I," she said, "am forty-three. Look at my gray hairs." + +He laughed. "Who would believe it? But what," he asked, "was the +special reason for your wanting to see me now? I take it there was a +special reason?" + +She shook her head. "There wasn't any _special_ reason. I meant to +make that plain and I thought I had. I feel as if I ought to apologize +for asking you at all, for you may have felt under some obligation to +come just because you were asked. I hope you didn't, Fox, for--" + +Fox smiled quietly. His smile made her think of Uncle John Hazen. "I +didn't," he said. + +"I'm glad you didn't. Don't ever feel obliged to do anything for +me--for us." She corrected herself quickly. "We are grateful, too,--at +least, I am--for anything. No, there wasn't any special reason. I just +wanted to see you with my own eyes. Four years is a long time." + +Fox, who had almost reached the advanced age of thirty, was plainly +embarrassed. + +"Well," he asked, laughing a little, "now that you have seen me, what +do you think?" + +"That," she answered, still in her tone of gentle banter, "I shall not +tell you. It would not be good for you." A step was heard in the hall. +"Oh," she added, hastily, in a voice that was scarcely more than a +whisper, "here's Patty. Be nice to her, Fox." + +However much--or little--Mrs. Ladue's command had to do with it, Fox +was as nice to Patty as he knew how to be. To be sure, Fox had had +much experience with just Patty's kind in the past four years, and he +had learned just the manner for her. It was involuntary on his part, +to a great extent, and poor Patty beamed and fluttered and was very +gracious. She even suggested something that she had had no expectation +of suggesting when she entered the room. + +"Perhaps, Mr. Sanderson," she said, with a slight inclination of her +head, "you would care to accompany us out on the harbor to-morrow +afternoon. It is frozen over, you know, and the ice is very thick. +There is no danger, I assure you. It doesn't happen every winter and +we make the most of it." She laughed a little, lightly. "The men--the +young men--race their horses there every afternoon. They usually race +on the Cow Path--Washington Street, no doubt I should call it, but we +still cling to the old names, among ourselves. These young men have +taken advantage of the unusual condition of the harbor and it is a +very pretty sight; all those horses flying along. We shall not race, +of course." + +If Sally had heard her, I doubt whether she would have been able to +suppress her chuckles at the idea of the Hazens' stout horse--the +identical horse that had drawn her on her first arrival--at the idea, +I say, of that plethoric and phlegmatic and somewhat aged animal's +competing with such a horse as Sawny, for example. Mrs. Ladue had some +difficulty in doing no more than smile. + +"Why, Patty," she began, in amazement, "were you--but I must not keep +Fox from answering." + +Patty had betrayed some uneasiness when Mrs. Ladue began to speak, +which is not to be wondered at. She quieted down. + +"I ought to have called you Doctor Sanderson," she observed, "ought I +not? I forgot, for the moment, the celebrity to which you have +attained." Again she inclined her head slightly. + +Fox laughed easily. "Call me anything you like," he replied. "As to +going with you to see the races, I accept with much pleasure, if you +can assure me that there is really no danger. I am naturally timid, +you know." + +Patty was in some doubt as to how to take this reply of Fox's; not in +much doubt, however. She laughed, too. "Are you, indeed?" she asked. +"It is considered quite safe, I do assure you." + +Mrs. Ladue looked very merry, but Patty did not see her. + +"We will consider it settled, then," Patty concluded, with evident +satisfaction. + +On her way to her room, half an hour later, Mrs. Ladue met Patty on +the stairs. + +"Sarah," said Patty graciously, "I find Doctor Sanderson very +agreeable and entertaining; much more so than I had any idea." + +Mrs. Ladue was outwardly as calm as usual, but inwardly she felt a +great resentment. + +"I am glad, Patty," she replied simply; and she escaped to her room, +where she found Sally and Henrietta. + +"Sally," she said abruptly, "what do you think? Patty has asked Fox to +go with us to see the racing to-morrow afternoon. I don't know who the +'us' is. She didn't say." + +Sally stared and broke into chuckling. "Oh, _mother_!" she cried. + + + + +CHAPTER III + + +Whitby has a beautiful harbor. It is almost land-locked, the entrance +all but closed by Ship Island, leaving only a narrow passage into the +harbor. That passage is wide enough and deep enough for steam-ships to +enter by; it is wide enough for ships of size to enter, indeed, if +they are sailed well enough and if there were any object in +sailing-ships of size entering Whitby Harbor. Many a ship has +successfully navigated Ship Island Channel under its own sail, but +that was before the days of steam. + +Before the days of steam Whitby had its shipping; and in the days of +shipping Whitby had its fleets of ships and barks and brigs and a +schooner or two. Although the industries of Whitby have changed, the +remnants of those fleets are active yet, or there would have been +nothing doing at the office of John Hazen, Junior, or at his wharf. +Patty and some others of the old regime, as she would have liked to +put it, were wont to sigh and to smile somewhat pathetically when that +change was alluded to, and they would either say nothing or they would +say a good deal, according to circumstances. The old industry was more +picturesque than the new, there is no doubt about that, and I am +inclined to the view of Miss Patty and her party. It is a pity. + +But some of those old barks and brigs are in commission still. Only a +few years ago, the old bark Hong-Kong, a century old and known the +world over, sailed on her last voyage before she was sold to be broken +up. They were good vessels, those old barks; not fast sailers, but +what did the masters care about that? There was no hurry, and they +could be depended upon to come home when they had filled, for the +weather that would harm them is not made. In the course of their +voyages they pushed their bluff bows into many unknown harbors and +added much to the sum of human knowledge. They could have added much +more, but ship captains are uncommunicative men, seldom volunteering +information, although sometimes giving it freely when it is asked; +never blowing their own horns, differing, in that respect, from +certain explorers. Perhaps they should be called lecturers rather than +explorers. Poor chaps! It may be that if they did not blow them and +make a noise, nobody would do it for them, but they never wait to find +out. Let them blow their penny trumpets. It is safe and sane--very. + +Captain Forsyth had pronounced views on this subject. "Explorers!" he +roared to Sally one day. "These explorers! Huh! It's all for Smith, +that's what it is, and if Jones says he has been there, Jones is a +liar. Where? Why, anywhere. That previously unknown harbor Smith has +just discovered and made such a fuss over--I could have told him all +about it forty years ago. Previously unknown nothing! It's Wingate's +Harbor, and when I was in command of the Hong-Kong we poked about +there for months. And there's another, about a hundred miles to the +east'ard that he hasn't discovered yet, and it's a better harbor than +his. Discover! Huh!" + +"But why," Sally asked in genuine surprise,--"why, Captain Forsyth, +haven't you told about it? Why don't you, now?" + +"Why don't I?" Captain Forsyth roared again. "Nobody's asked me; +that's why. They don't want to know. They'd say I was a liar and call +for proofs. Why should I? Cap'n Wingate found it, as far as I know, +but there might have been a dozen others who were there before him. I +don't know. And Cap'n Sampson and Cap'n Wingate and Cap'n Carling and +Cap'n Pilcher and--oh, all the masters knew them almost as well as +they knew Whitby Harbor. They're mostly dead now. But I'm not. And if +anybody comes discovering Whitby Harbor, why, let him look out." And +the old captain went off, chuckling to himself. + +Many a time the old Hong-Kong had entered Whitby Harbor under her own +sail. Later, the tugs met the ships far down the bay and brought them +in, thereby saving some time. Whether they saved them money or not I +do not know, but the owners must have thought they did. At least, they +saved them from the danger of going aground on Ship Island Shoal, for +that passage into the harbor was hardly wide enough for two vessels to +pass in comfort unless the wind was just right. + +Once in, it must have been a pretty sight for the returned sailors and +one to warm their hearts--a pretty sight for anybody, indeed; one did +not need to be a returned sailor for that. There, on the left, was the +town, sloping gently down to the water, with its church spires rising +from a sea of green, for every street was lined with elms. And there +were the familiar noises coming faintly over the water: the noise of +many beetles striking upon wood. There were always vessels being +repaired, and the masters of Whitby despised, for daily use, such +things as marine railways or dry-docks. They would haul down a vessel +in her dock until her keel was exposed and absolutely rebuild her on +one side, if necessary; then haul her down on the other tack, so to +speak, and treat that side in the same way. Even in these later years +the glory of Whitby Harbor, although somewhat dimmed, has not +departed. On the right shore there was nothing but farms and pastures +and hay-fields with the men working in them; for there is less water +toward the right shore of the harbor. + +There were no hay-fields visible on this day of which I am speaking, +but almost unbroken snow; and there were no noises of beetles to come +faintly to a vessel which had just got in. Indeed, no vessel could +have just got in, but, having got in, must have stayed where she +happened to lie. For Whitby Harbor was more like Wingate's Harbor, of +which Captain Forsyth had been speaking, in connection with +explorers, than it was like Whitby Harbor. It presented a hard and +shining surface, with a bark and three schooners frozen in, caught at +their anchorages, and with no open water at all, not even in the +channel. + +If you will take the trouble to recall it, you will remember that the +winter of 1904-05 was very cold; even colder, about Whitby, than the +previous cold winter had been. Toward the end of January, not only was +Whitby Harbor frozen, but there was fairly solid ice for miles out +into the bay. Whitby, not being, in general, prepared for such +winters, was not provided with boats especially designed for breaking +the ice. The two tugs had kept a channel open as long as they could; +but one night the temperature fell to twenty-three below zero and the +morning found them fast bound in their docks. So they decided to give +it up--making a virtue of necessity--and to wait; which was a decision +reached after several hours of silent conference between the tugboat +captains, during which conference they smoked several pipes apiece and +looked out, from the snug pilothouse of the Arethusa, over the +glittering surface. At a quarter to twelve Captain Hannibal let his +chair down upon its four feet and thoughtfully knocked the ashes out +of his pipe. + +"I guess we can't do it," he said conclusively. "I'm goin' home to +dinner." + +The condition, now, reminded Captain Forsyth of other days. For nearly +two weeks the temperature had not been higher than a degree or two +above zero and the ice in the harbor, except for an occasional +air-hole, was thick enough to banish even those fears which Doctor +Sanderson had mentioned. Any timidity was out of place. + +If any fear lingered in the mind of the stout horse as to the +intention of his driver; if he had any lingering fear that he might be +called upon to race, that fear was dispelled when he saw his load. He +knew very well that he would be disqualified at once. There were Patty +and Sally, and Mrs. Ladue, Fox and Henrietta, all crowded into the +two-seated sleigh. Mr. Hazen had said, smiling, that he would come, +later, from his office, on his own feet. Charlie, seeing the crowded +condition, absolutely refused to go. This was a blow to Miss Patty, +who had intended that he should drive, but was obliged to take the +coachman in his place. Sally did not blame him and made up her mind, +as she squirmed into the seat with Patty and the coachman, that she +would join Uncle John as soon as she saw him. + +It seemed as if the entire population of Whitby must be on the ice. +The whole surface of the harbor was dotted thickly with people, +skating, sliding, or just wandering aimlessly about, and, on occasion, +making way quickly for an ice-boat. There was not usually ice enough +to make ice-boating a permanent institution in Whitby, and these +ice-boats were hastily put together of rough joists, with the mast and +sail borrowed from some cat-boat; but they sailed well. + +The most of the people, however, were gathered in two long lines. The +harbor was black with them. They were massed, half a dozen or more +deep, behind ropes that stretched away in a straight line for more +than a mile; and between the ropes was a lane, fifty feet wide or +more, white and shining, down which the racing horses sped. The racing +was in one direction only, the returning racers taking their places in +the long line of sleighs which carried spectators and went back at a +very sober pace to the starting-point. Here the line of sleighs +divided, those not racing making a wide turn and going down on the +right, next the ropes, leaving the racers a wide path in the middle. + +As the Hazens' sleigh approached to take its place in the line, a +great shouting arose at a little distance. The noise swelled and died +away and swelled again, but always it went on, along both sides of the +line, marking the pace. Fox could see the waving hands and hats. + +"They seem to be excited," he said, turning, as well as he could, to +Mrs. Ladue, who sat beside him. Henrietta sat on his other side. "Do +you happen to know what it is about?" + +Mrs. Ladue was smiling happily. "Some favorite horse, I suppose," she +replied, "but I don't know anything about the horses. You'd better ask +Sally." + +So Fox asked Sally; but, before she could answer, Patty answered for +her. "I believe that it is Everett Morton and Sawny racing with Mr. +Gilfeather. I am not sure of the name, of course," she added hastily. +"Some low person." + +Sally looked back at Fox with a smile of amusement. It was almost a +chuckle. "Mr. Gilfeather keeps a saloon," she remarked. "I believe it +is rather a nice saloon, as saloons go. I teach his daughter. Cousin +Patty thinks that is awful." + +"It _is_ awful," Patty said, with some vehemence, "to think that our +children must be in the same classes with daughters of saloon-keepers. +Mr. Gilfeather may be a very worthy person, of course, but his +children should go elsewhere." + +Sally's smile had grown into a chuckle. "Mr. Gilfeather has rather a +nice saloon," she repeated, "as saloons go. I've been there." + +Fox laughed, but Miss Patty did not. She turned a horrified face to +Sally. + +"Oh, _Sally_!" she cried. "Whatever--" + +"I had to see him about his daughter. He was always in his saloon. The +conclusion is obvious, as Mr. MacDalie says." + +"Oh, _Sally_!" cried Patty again. "You know you didn't." + +"And who," asked Fox, "is Sawny?" + +"Sawny," Sally answered, hurrying a little to speak before Patty +should speak for her, "Sawny is a what, not a who. He is Everett +Morton's horse, and a very good horse, I believe." + +"He seems to be in favor with the multitude." The shouting and yelling +had broken out afresh, far down the lines. "Or is it his owner?" + +Sally shook her head. "It is Sawny," she replied. "I don't know how +the multitude regards Everett. Probably Mr. Gilfeather knows more +about that than I do." + +They had taken their place in the line of sleighs and were ambling +along close to the rope. The sleighs in the line were so close that +the stout horse had his nose almost in the neck of a nervous man just +ahead, who kept looking back, while Fox could feel the breath of the +horse behind. + +He looked at Mrs. Ladue. "Does it trouble you that this horse is so +near?" he asked. "Do you mind?" + +"Nothing troubles me," she said, smiling up at him. "I don't mind +anything. I am having a lovely time." + +And Fox returned to his observation of the multitude, collectively and +individually. They interested him more than the horses, which could +not truthfully be said of Henrietta. Almost every person there looked +happy and bent upon having a good time, although almost everybody was +cold, which was not surprising, and there was much stamping of feet +and thrashing of arms, and the ice boomed and cracked merrily, once in +a while, and the noise echoed over the harbor. Suddenly Fox leaned out +of the sleigh and said something to a man, who looked surprised and +began rubbing his ears gently. Then he called his thanks. + +"That man's ears were getting frost-bitten," Fox remarked in reply to +a questioning glance from Mrs. Ladue. "Now here we are at the end of +the line and I haven't seen a single race. I say, Sally, can't we get +where we can see that Sawny horse race? I should like to see him and +Mr. Gilfeather." + +"He's a sight. So is Mr. Gilfeather." And Sally laughed suddenly. "If +we should hang around here until we hear the noise coming and then get +in the line again, we should be somewhere near halfway down when he +comes down again. Can we, Cousin Patty?" + +Patty inclined her head graciously. "Why, certainly, Sally. Anything +Doctor Sanderson likes." + +"Doctor Sanderson is greatly obliged," said Fox. + +The nervous man appeared much relieved to find that they were to hang +around and that he was not condemned to having the nose of their horse +in his neck all the afternoon. They drove off to join a group of +sleighs that were hanging around for a like purpose. + +A light cutter, drawn by a spirited young horse, drew up beside them. + +"Good afternoon," said a pleasant voice. "Won't some one of you come +with me? You should have mercy on your horse, you know." + +"Oh, Dick!" Sally cried. There was mischief in her eyes. "It is good +of you. Will you take Edward?" + +Even Edward, the stolid coachman, grinned at that. + +"With pleasure," said Dick, not at all disconcerted, "if Miss Patty +can spare him." + +"Oh," cried Miss Patty, "not Edward." + +"Well," continued Sally, "Miss Sanderson, then." + +"With pleasure," said Dick again. There was no need to ask Henrietta. +The introductions were gone hastily through, and Henrietta changed +with some alacrity. + +"You are not racing, Dick?" Sally asked, as he tucked the robe around +Henrietta. + +"Oh, no," Dick replied solemnly, looking up. "How can you ask, Sally? +You know that I should not dare to, with this horse. He is too young." + +"Gammon!" Sally exclaimed. "I shall keep my eye on you, Dick." + +"That's a good place for it," Dick remarked. "Good-bye." + +Henrietta was laughing. "Will you race, Mr. Torrington?" she asked. + +"Oh, no," Dick repeated, as solemnly as before. "I have no such +intention. Of course, this horse is young and full of spirits and I +may not be able to control him. But my intentions are irreproachable." + +Henrietta laughed again. "Oh, I hope so," she said, somewhat +ambiguously. + +Another cutter, the occupant of which had been waiting impatiently +until Dick should go, drew up beside the Hazens'. The aforesaid +occupant had eyes for but one person. + +"Won't you come with me, Sally?" He did not mean that the wrong one +should be foisted upon him. + +Sally smiled gently and shook her head. There were so many things she +had to deny him! "Thank you, Eugene. I shall join Uncle John as soon +as he comes down--as soon as I see him." + +"Well, see him from my sleigh, then. The view is as good as from +yours. Isn't it a little crowded?" + +Sally shook her head again. + +"Won't you come?" he persisted. + +Sally sighed. "No, I thank you, Eugene. I will stay until I see Uncle +John." + +Bowing, Eugene Spencer drove off, leaving Sally rather sober and +silent. Fox watched her and wondered, and Mrs. Ladue, in her turn, +watched Fox. She could do that without being observed, now that +Henrietta was gone. But the noise that told of that Sawny horse was +coming, and they got into line. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + + +Whatever the things in which Everett Morton had failed, driving was +not one of them. There was some excuse for his not succeeding in any +of the things he had tried: he did not have to. Take away the +necessity and how many of us would make a success of our business or +our profession? For that matter, how many of us are there who can +honestly say that we have made a success of the profession which we +have happened to choose? I say "happened to choose," because it is +largely a matter of luck whether we have happened to choose what we +would really rather do. Any man is peculiarly fortunate if he has +known enough and has been able to choose the thing that he would +rather do than anything else, and such a man should have a very happy +life. He should be very grateful to his parents. I envy him. Most of +us are the slaves of circumstances and let them decide for us; and +then, perhaps too late, discover that which we had rather--oh, so much +rather--do than follow on in the occupation which fate has forced us +into. We have to labor in our "leisure" time in the work which we +should have chosen, but did not; as if the demands of to-day--if we +would succeed--left us any leisure time! + +It is not to be supposed that Everett had such thoughts as these. He +was concerned only with Sawny, at the moment, and with Mr. Gilfeather. +He may have had the fleeting thought that he made rather a fine +figure, in his coat and cap of sables and with his bored, handsome +face. Indeed, he did. A good many people thought so. Even Sally may +have thought so; but Sally did not say what she thought. As Everett +made the turn at the head of the course, he looked around for Mr. +Gilfeather, and presently he found him. Mr. Gilfeather was a +hard-featured man, with a red face and a great weight of body, which +was somewhat of a handicap to his horse. But if the horse expressed no +objection to that and if Mr. Gilfeather did not, why, Everett was the +last person in the world to raise the question. + +"Try it again?" Mr. Gilfeather called, smiling genially. + +Everett nodded. He did manage a bored half-smile, but it could not be +called genial, by any stretch of the word. + +They manoeuvred their horses until they were abreast, and jogged down +the course. They wanted it clear, as far as they could get it; and Mr. +Gilfeather's horse fretted at the bit and at the tight hold upon him. +Sawny did not. He knew what he had to do. And presently the course +opened out clear for a good distance ahead. + +"What do you say, Everett?" asked Mr. Gilfeather. A good many people +heard it and noted that Gilfeather called Morton Everett. "Shall we +let 'em go?" + +Everett nodded again, and Mr. Gilfeather took off one wrap of the +reins. The nervous horse sprang ahead, but Sawny did not. He knew what +was expected of him. Everett had not been keeping a tight hold on him; +not tight enough to worry him, although, to be sure, it was not easy +to worry Sawny. So, when Everett tightened a little upon his bit, +Sawny responded by increasing his stride just enough to keep his nose +even with Mr. Gilfeather. He could look over Mr. Gilfeather's shoulder +and see what he was doing with the reins. Perhaps he did. Sawny was a +knowing horse and he almost raced himself. + +Mr. Gilfeather's horse had drawn ahead with that first burst of speed, +and now, seeing that Everett was apparently content, for the time, +with his place, Mr. Gilfeather tried to check him, for he knew +Everett's methods--or shall I say Sawny's?--and there was three +quarters of a mile to go. But Sawny's nose just over his shoulder made +him nervous; and the rhythmical sound of Sawny's sharp shoes cutting +into the ice--always just at his ear, it seemed--made him almost as +nervous as his horse, although Mr. Gilfeather did not look like a +nervous man. So he let his horse go a little faster than he should +have done, which was what the horse wanted; anything to get away from +that crash--crash of hoofs behind him. + +But always Sawny held his position, lengthening his stride as much as +the occasion called for. He could lengthen it much more, if there were +need, as he knew very well; as he knew there soon would be. Mr. +Gilfeather's horse--and Mr. Gilfeather himself--got more nervous every +second. The horse, we may presume, was in despair. Every effort that +he had made to shake Sawny off had failed. He hung about Mr. +Gilfeather's shoulder with the persistence of a green-head. + +In these positions, the horses passed down between the yelling crowds. +Mr. Gilfeather may have heard the yelling, but Everett did not. It +fell upon his ears unheeded, like the sound of the sea or of the wind +in the trees. He was intent upon but one thing now, and that thing was +not the noise of the multitude. + +When there was but a quarter of a mile to go, Sawny felt a little more +pressure upon the bit and heard Everett's voice speaking low. + +"Now, stretch yourself, Sawny," said that voice cheerfully. + +And Sawny stretched himself to his full splendid stride and the sound +of that crash of hoofs came a little faster. It passed Mr. +Gilfeather's shoulder and he had a sight of red nostrils spread wide; +then of Sawny's clean-cut head and intelligent eye. Did that eye wink +at him? Then came the lean neck and then the shoulder: a skin like +satin, with the muscles working under it with the regularity of a +machine; then the body--but Mr. Gilfeather had no time for further +observation out of the corner of his eye. His horse had heard, too, +and knew what was happening; and when Mr. Gilfeather urged him on to +greater speed, he tried to go faster and he broke. + +That was the end of it. He broke, he went into the air, he danced up +and down; and Sawny, who never was guilty of that crime, went by him +like a streak. + +Everett smiled as he passed Mr. Gilfeather, and his smile was a little +less bored than usual. "If I had known that this was to be a +running-race," he said; but Mr. Gilfeather lost the rest of Everett's +remark, for Sawny had carried him out of hearing. + +It chanced that they had passed the Hazens' sleigh just before Mr. +Gilfeather's horse broke. Sally watched the horses as they passed, +with Sawny gaining at every stride. Her face glowed and she turned to +Fox. + +"There!" she said. "Now you've seen him. Isn't he splendid?" + +"Who? Mr. Morton?" Fox asked innocently. "He does look rather +splendid. That must be a very expensive coat and the--" + +Sally smiled. "It was Sawny that I meant." + +"Oh," said Fox. + +"Everett might be included, no doubt," she continued. + +"No doubt," Fox agreed. + +"He is part of it, although there is a popular opinion that Sawny +could do it all by himself, if he had to." + +"Having been well trained," Fox suggested. + +Sally nodded. "Having been well trained. And Everett trained him, I +believe." + +Fox was more thoughtful than the occasion seemed to call for. "It +speaks well for his ability as a trainer of horses." + +"It does." Sally seemed thoughtful, too. + +"And what else does Mr. Morton do," asked Fox, "but train his horse?" + +"Not much, I believe," Sally replied. "At other seasons he drives his +car; when the roads are good." + +"A noble occupation for a man," Fox observed, cheerfully and +pleasantly; "driver and chauffeur. Not that those occupations are not +quite respectable, but it hardly seems enough for a man of Mr. +Morton's abilities, to say the least." + +Sally looked up with a quick smile. "I am no apologist for Everett," +she said. "I am not defending him, you observe. I know nothing of his +abilities." + +"What do you know, Sally," Fox inquired then, "of popular opinion?" + +"More than you think, Fox," Sally answered mischievously, "for I have +mixed with the people. I have been to Mr. Gilfeather's saloon." + +"Oh, _Sally_!" cried Patty, "I _wish_ you wouldn't keep alluding to +your visit to that horrible place. I am sure that it was unnecessary." + +"Very well, Cousin Patty, I won't mention it if it pains you." She +turned to Fox again. "I was going to say that it is a great pity." + +Fox was somewhat mystified. "I have no doubt that it is, if you say +so. I might fall in with your ideas more enthusiastically if I knew +what you were talking about." + +"I am talking about Everett," Sally replied, chuckling. "I don't +wonder that you didn't know. And I was prepared to make a rather +pathetic speech, Fox. You have dulled the point of it, so that I shall +not make it, now." + +"To the effect, perhaps, if I may venture to guess," Fox suggested, +"that Everett might have made more of a success of some other things +if he had felt the same interest in them that he feels in racing his +horse." + +"If he could attack them with as strong a purpose," Sally agreed, +absently, with no great interest herself, apparently, "he would +succeed, I think. I know that Dick thinks he has ability enough." + +Fox made no reply and Sally did not pursue the subject further. They +drove to the end of the course in silence. Suddenly Sally began to +wave her muff violently. + +"Oh, there is Uncle John," she said. "If you will excuse me, I will +get out, Cousin Patty. You needn't stop, Edward. Just go slow. I +find," she added, turning again to the back seat, "that it is the +popular opinion that it is too cold for me to drive longer in comfort, +so I am going to leave you, if you don't mind." + +"And what if we do mind?" asked Fox; to which question Sally made no +reply. She only smiled at him in a way which he found peculiarly +exasperating. + +"Take good care of father, Sally," said Patty anxiously. + +"I will," Sally replied with a cheerful little nod. "Good-bye." And +she stepped out easily, leaving Patty, Fox, and her mother. This was +an arrangement little to Patty's liking. Doctor Sanderson was in the +seat with Mrs. Ladue. To be sure, he might have changed with Patty +when Sally got out, but Mrs. Ladue would not have him inconvenienced +to that extent. She noted that his eyes followed Sally as she ran and +slid and ran again. Mr. Hazen came forward to meet her and she slipped +her hand within his arm, and she turned to wave her muff to them. Then +Sally and Uncle John walked slowly back, toward the head of the +course. + +Fox turned to Mrs. Ladue and they smiled at each other. "I guess," Fox +remarked, "that she is not changed, after all; except," he added as an +afterthought, "that she is more generally cheerful than she used to +be, which is a change to be thankful for." + +Sally and Uncle John took Dick Torrington home to dinner; and +Henrietta very nearly monopolized his attention, as might have been +expected. It was late, as the habits of the Hazens went, when they +went up to bed, but Henrietta would have Sally come in for a few +minutes. She had _so_ many things to say. No, they wouldn't wait. She +would have forgotten them by the next day. And Sally laughed and went +with Henrietta. + +Henrietta's few minutes had lengthened to half an hour and she had not +said half the things she had meant to say. She had told Sally how Mr. +Spencer--Eugene Spencer, you know--had overtaken them at the head of +the course and had accosted Mr. Torrington, challenging him to race. + +"Mr. Spencer," continued Henrietta, with a demure glance at Sally, +"seemed out of sorts and distinctly cross. I'm sure I don't know why. +Do you, Sally?" + +Sally looked annoyed. "He is very apt to be, I think," she remarked +briefly. "What did Dick do? He said he was not going to race." + +"Yes, that's what he told Mr. Spencer, and Mr. Spencer said, in a +disagreeable kind of way, 'You promised Sally, I suppose.' And +Dick--Mr. Torrington--smiled and his eyes wrinkled. I think he was +laughing at Mr. Spencer--at the pet he was in. Don't you, Sally?" + +Sally nodded. She thought it very likely. + +"And Dick--I must ask Mr. Torrington's pardon, but I hear him spoken +of as Dick so often that I forget--Mr. Torrington told him, in his +slow, quiet way, that he hadn't exactly promised you; that, in fact, +he had warned you that his horse was spirited and somewhat fractious +and he might not be able to hold him. He had warned somebody, anyway, +and he thought it was you. It wasn't you, at all, Sally. It was I, but +I didn't enlighten him." + +"I knew, very well, that he would," Sally observed. "So he raced with +Jane?" + +"With Mr. Spencer," Henrietta corrected. "Do you call him Jane? How +funny! And we beat him and he went off in a shocking temper, for Dick +laughed at him, but very gently." + +"I'm not sure that would not be all the harder for Jane. I suppose you +were glad to beat him." + +"Why, of course," said Henrietta, in surprise. "Wouldn't you have +been?" + +Sally was rather sober and serious. "I suppose so. It wouldn't have +made any particular difference whether you beat him or not." + +Henrietta made no reply to this remark. She was sitting on the bed, +pretty and dainty, and was tapping her foot lightly on the floor. She +gazed at Sally thoughtfully for a long time. Finally Sally got up to +go. + +"Sally," Henrietta asked then, smiling, "haven't you ever thought of +him--them--any one"--she hesitated and stammered a little--"in that +way?" She did not seem to think it necessary to specify more +particularly the way she meant. "There are lots of attractive men +here. There's Everett Morton and there's Eugene Spencer, though he's +almost too near your own age; but anybody can see that he's perfectly +dippy over you. And--" + +"And there, too," Sally interrupted, "are the Carlings, Harry and +Horry, neither of whom you have seen because they happen to be in +college. The last time they came home, Harry was wearing a mustache +and Horry side-whiskers, so that it would be easy to tell them apart. +The only trouble with that device was that I forgot which was which. +And there is Ollie Pilcher, and there is--oh, the place is perfectly +boiling with men--if it is men that you are looking for." + +Henrietta gave a little ripple of laughter. "You are too funny, Sally. +Of course I am looking for men--or for a man. Girls of our age are +always looking for them, whether we know it or not--deep down in our +hearts. Remember Margaret Savage? Well, she seems to be looking for +Fox, and I shouldn't wonder if he succumbed, in time. She is very +pretty." + +There was a look of resentment in Sally's eyes, but she made no +remark. + +"And I have not finished my list," Henrietta went on. "I can only +include the men I have seen to-day. To end the list, there is Dick +Torrington. Haven't you--haven't you thought--" + +Sally flushed slowly; but she smiled and shook her head. "You see, +Henrietta," she said apologetically, "I have my teaching to think +of--" + +"Oh, bosh!" cried Henrietta, smiling. + +"Fox knows," Sally continued, defensively, "and you can't have wholly +forgotten, Henrietta." + +"Bosh, Sally!" said Henrietta again. + + + + +CHAPTER V + + +IT was but a few steps from Henrietta's door to Sally's own. Sally, +her ideas a little confused by that exclamation of Henrietta's and by +what it implied, walked those few steps softly and had her hand upon +the knob of her own door when she found herself sniffing and realized +that she smelt smoke. It was a very faint smell and she hesitated, +even then, and stood there in the dark hall, recalling the fires that +had been left. There had been no wood fire. + +She took her hand softly from the knob. "I believe I'll just look +around," she told herself. "It's a terrible night for a fire. I hope +nobody'll take me for a burglar." + +She went downstairs quickly, taking no pains to be quiet. If she were +not quiet, she thought, with an involuntary chuckle, Uncle John would +not be likely to think she was the sort of person that had no business +to be in the house at all. She looked into the back parlor. All was +right there. Then she opened the door leading into the back hall. The +smell of smoke was stronger. She glanced into the kitchen. The top of +the range was red-hot, to be sure, but that was not unusual enough to +excite surprise, and the great old chimney, with its brick oven and +broad brick breast and the wide brick hearth reaching out well beyond +the range were enough assurance. The smoke must come from the cellar. + +The cellar door was in the back hall, just at Sally's hand as she +stood. She opened it; and was almost stifled by the smoke that poured +out. She gasped and shut the door again quickly, and ran and opened a +kitchen window, fumbling a little at the fastening, and drew two or +three long breaths of the crisp night air, thinking how cold it was. +Then she opened the cellar door again, held her breath, and went down. + +It was a little better when she got down, although the smoke was +thick up by the floor beams. Sally glanced in the direction of the +furnace; and she saw, through the smoke, a dull red glow, with little +licks of flame running up from it, now and then. The man had forgotten +the furnace and had left it drawing. That pipe was perilously near the +beams. + +"The idiot!" Sally exclaimed. And she held her breath again while she +ran up the cellar stairs. + +She was angry with herself because her hands trembled as she lighted +the gas in the kitchen and found the lantern and lighted it. The +slight trembling of her hands did not matter so much in filling a +pitcher with water and by the time the pitcher was full her hands were +steady enough. She ran down cellar again, the lantern in one hand and +the pitcher in the other; and she shut the drafts in the furnace as +far as she could. She heard the flame roaring in the pipe and the +damper was red-hot. + +"Oh, dear!" she said, under her breath. "If there was only something +to take hold of it with! And the beams are all afire. Well,--" + +She threw the water from her pitcher upon the beams in little dashes. + +"Oh, dear!" she said again. "I can't do it." + +A quiet voice spoke behind her. "Better give it up, Sally, and rouse +the people." + +Sally was too intent upon her purpose to be startled. "Oh, Uncle +John!" she cried. "You are a very present help in trouble. We could +put it out if this was all, but I'm afraid it has already got up +between the walls." + +"Come up, then," Uncle John spoke calmly and without haste. "Never +mind the lantern. I will rouse Patty and Doctor Sanderson and you get +at Henrietta and your mother and the servants. Don't send Patty to the +servants," he added, with a smile. "I will send in the alarm." + +Mr. Hazen had forgotten Charlie. Sally ran upstairs. There was still a +light showing under Henrietta's door and Sally went in. + +"You'd better not undress, Henrietta," she said. "There is a fire and +we may have to get out. You may have time to do a good deal, if you +hurry--even to pack your trunk. You'd better put on your furs. It's +terribly cold." + +Henrietta was not flurried. "I'll be ready in a jiffy, Sally. Run +along now." + +Sally ran and woke her mother, telling her to get dressed quickly +while she went for the servants. On her way up, she knocked at +Charlie's door. She came downstairs presently, settled the servants in +the hall, and went up to her room to help her mother. + +Then the firemen came with a tremendous clanging of bells and +shrieking of whistles, reveling in noise. Sally laughed when she heard +them, and her mother laughed with her, rather nervously. The rest of +it was a sort of nightmare to Sally and she had no very distinct +recollection of any part of it. There was great confusion, and firemen +in the most unexpected places, and hose through the halls and on the +stairs. Fox and Henrietta had packed their trunks and Patty had two +pillows and a wire hair-brush, which she insisted upon carrying about +with her. + +Then they were ordered out, and Sally found herself out in the night +and the cold amid the confusion of firemen and engines and horses and +ice. For both Appletree and Box Elder streets seemed full of hose, +which leaked at every pore and sent little streams of water on high, +to freeze as soon as they fell and form miniature cascades of ice on +which an old man--a young man, for that matter--might more easily slip +and fall than not. It was very dark out there, the darkness only made +more dense by the light from the lanterns of the firemen and the +sparks from an engine that was roaring near. They were throwing water +on the outside of the house--two streams; and Sally wondered why in +the world they did it. There was no fire visible. Perhaps Fox would +know. And she looked around. + +Their faces could just be made out, in the gloom; her mother and +Charlie, Charlie with the bored look that he seemed to like to assume, +copied after Everett; and Patty, still with her two pillows and her +wire hair-brush, looking frightened, as she was; and Henrietta and Fox +and the huddled group of the servants. She could not see Uncle John. +There were not many spectators, which is not a matter for surprise. +There is little interest in trying to watch a fire which one cannot +see, late on a night which is cold enough to freeze one's ears or +fingers, and the curbstone is but cold comfort. + +Fox and Henrietta were talking together in low tones. "Fox," asked +Sally, "do you know why they are throwing water on the outside of the +house. For the life of me, I can't make out." + +"For their own delectation, I suppose," he answered soberly. "It is a +fireman's business--or part of it--to throw water on a building as +well as all over the inside, when there is any excuse. Besides, the +water, as it runs off the roof and all the little outs, forms very +beautiful icicles which, no doubt, delight the fireman's professional +eye. Think how pretty it will look to-morrow morning with the early +sun upon it." + +Sally chuckled. "I see them dimly," she returned, "but very dimly. +They ought to have a search-light on them." + +"I believe there is one," he observed. "They will have it going +presently." + +"Oh," Sally exclaimed; and she chuckled again. + +Thereupon, as if it had been a signal, a brilliant white light shone +forth. It happened to be pointed exactly upon the little group, but +shifted immediately so that it illuminated the roof. There were great +rippling cascades of ice down the slope of it and icicles forming at +each edge and the water streaming off them. + +Sally was silent for a few moments. "It is certainly very pretty," she +said then, "and should delight the fireman's professional eye. I +suppose that I might enjoy it more if it were not our house." + +The moment's illumination had served to point them out to somebody. +Mrs. Ladue touched Sally on the arm. + +"Sally, dear," she said, "I think that we may as well go now. Mrs. +Torrington has asked us all to stay there. Won't you and Henrietta +come?" + +"She is very kind," Sally replied. "I had not thought about going +anywhere, yet. I am warm, perfectly warm. I have my furs, you see. I +think I will wait until I see Uncle John, mother, and we can go +somewhere together. I don't like to leave him. But probably Fox and +Henrietta will go." She looked around. "But where is Patty?" + +"Gone to Mrs. Upjohn's a few minutes ago. Poor Patty! I am very glad +to have her go." + +Henrietta had gathered the drift of the talk, although she had not +heard any names. She turned. "I could stay here with you, Sally, or I +could go if it would be more convenient. I am warm enough. Who has +asked us?" + +Mrs. Ladue answered for Sally. "Mrs. Torrington sent Dick to find us," +she said. "Here he is." + +Henrietta's decision changed instantly. "Oh," she cried, "Mr. +Torrington! It is very kind, and I accept gratefully. When shall we +start, Mrs. Ladue?" + +Sally barely repressed a chuckle. "I'll stay, thank you, Dick; for +Uncle John, you know." + +"Good girl, Sally. I hope I'll fare as well when I'm old. Come +whenever you get ready. Somebody will be up and I think we have room +for everybody. Will Doctor Sanderson come now?" Dick added. + +Doctor Sanderson thanked him, but elected to stay with Sally, and +Sally urged Dick not to expect them and on no account to stay up for +them. + +Dick and Henrietta and Mrs. Ladue had scarcely gone when the roaring +engine choked, gave a few spasmodic snorts and its roaring stopped. + +"What's the matter with it?" Sally asked. "Why has it stopped?" + +"Colic," Fox replied briefly. + +Sally chuckled again and took his arm. He made no objection. The +engine seemed to be struggling heroically to resume its roaring and +there was much running of firemen and shouting unintelligible orders, +to which nobody paid any attention. In the midst of the confusion, Mr. +Hazen appeared. He was evidently very tired and he shivered as he +spoke to Sally. + +"I have done all I could," he said. "That wasn't much. Where are the +others, Sally?" + +Sally told him. "You must be very tired, Uncle John," she went on, +anxiously. "And you are wet through and colder than a clam. Your teeth +are positively chattering." + +He looked down at himself and felt of his clothes. The edge of his +overcoat and the bottoms of his trousers were frozen stiff. "I guess I +am tired," he replied, trying to call up a smile, "and I am a little +cold. I've been so occupied that I hadn't noticed. And I slipped on +one of their piles of ice. It didn't do any harm," he added hastily. +"I think I'll go over to Stephen's--Captain Forsyth's. He won't mind +being routed out. What will you do, Sally? Why don't you and Fox come, +too?" + +Sally hesitated. There was no object in their staying any longer, but +she did not like to impose upon Captain Forsyth. If she had only known +it, Captain Forsyth would have liked nothing better than to be imposed +upon by Sally in any way that she happened to choose. + +While she was hesitating she heard a voice behind her. "Mr. Hazen," +said the voice, rather coldly and formally, "won't you and Sally--Miss +Ladue--and--any others--" + +Sally had turned and now saw that it was Everett. She knew that well +enough as soon as he had begun to speak. And she saw, too, that he was +looking at Fox. She hastened to introduce them. It was necessary, in +Everett's case. They both bowed. + +"My mother sent me," Everett resumed, in the same formal tone, "to +find any of the family that I could and to say that we hope--my father +and my mother and myself--we hope that they will come to-night and +stay as long as they find it convenient." He seemed to have no great +liking for his errand. "It is very awkward," he added, with his bored +smile, "to be burned out of your house at night and on such a very +cold night, too." + +"Oh, but think," said Sally, "how much worse it might be. It might +have been at three o'clock in the morning, when everybody would have +been sleeping soundly." + +"That is very true," he returned. "I suppose you are thankful it was +not at three o'clock in the morning." He looked at them all in turn +questioningly. "Will you come? We should be very glad if you would." + +Again Sally hesitated. Uncle John saved her the trouble of answering. + +"I had just expressed my intention of going to Stephen Forsyth's, +Everett," he said, "and I think I will. Stephen and I are old cronies, +you know. We are very much obliged to you and I have no doubt that +Sally and Dr. Sanderson will go, with pleasure. They must have had +about enough of this." + +Everett bowed. Sally could hear Uncle John's teeth chattering and his +voice had been very shaky as he finished. + +"Let Fox prescribe for you, Uncle John," she said. "I'm worried about +you. What's the use of having a doctor in the family if he doesn't +prescribe when there is need?" And then Sally was thankful that it was +dark. + +Uncle John smiled his assent and Fox prescribed. "I have no doubt that +Captain Forsyth will have certain remedies at hand," he concluded, +"and I should think there would be no harm in your taking them, in +moderation." + +Uncle John laughed. "He will press them upon me," he said. "I will +observe Doctor Sanderson's prescription. Now, good-night. No, Sally, +Stephen's is just around the corner, you know." + +He disappeared into the darkness and Sally, with much inward +misgiving, prepared to follow Everett. She was really worried about +Uncle John. He was an old man, just upon eighty, and he had gone +through a great deal that night and was chilled through, she was +afraid, and-- + +She stopped short. "Oh, Fox," she cried. "The servants! I had +forgotten them. What in the world shall we do with them?" + +Everett had stopped, too, and heard Sally's question. "That is not +difficult," he said. "Send them to our house. It is a large house and +there is room for them in the servants' wing. Perhaps I can find +them." + +Everett was back in a moment. "That was easy," he remarked. "You need +give yourself no concern." + +They walked in silence up the long driveway, between the rows of +shadowing spruces, and up the broad granite steps. Everett had his key +in the latch and threw open the door. + +"My mother did not come down, apparently. You will see her in the +morning." + +As she took off her furs in the hall, Sally was very grateful for the +warmth and the cheerfulness and the spaciousness of the great house. +Everett slipped off his coat of sables and led the way up the stairs. + +"Your room, Sally--I shall call you Sally?" He looked at her, but not +as if in doubt. + +"Why, of course," said Sally in surprise. + +"Your room, Sally," he resumed, "is down that hall, just opposite my +mother's. The door is open and there is a light. Doctor Sanderson's is +this way, near mine. I will show him. Good-night, Sally." + +"Good-night," she answered; "and good-night, Fox." + +They turned and she went down the hall, her feet making no sound in +the soft carpet. The door which Everett had pointed out as his +mother's stood ajar, and, as Sally passed, it opened wider and Mrs. +Morton stepped out. + +"You are very welcome, Sally, dear," she said, kissing her; "as +welcome as could be. I will see Doctor Sanderson in the morning. Come +down whenever you feel like it. It has been a trying night for you." + +Sally's eyes were full of tears as she softly closed her own door. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + + +There were times when, in spite of disease, death, or disaster, Mrs. +John Upjohn had to have clothes; more clothes, no doubt I should say, +or other clothes. At any rate, when such occasions were imminent, Mrs. +Upjohn was wont to summon the dressmaker to come to her house, and the +dressmaker would come promptly and would camp in the house until the +siege was over, going home only to sleep. One would think that Mrs. +Upjohn might have offered Letty Lambkin a bed to sleep in, for Letty +had been a schoolmate of hers before misfortune overtook her; and Mrs. +Upjohn had beds to spare and Letty always arrived before breakfast and +stayed until after supper. Perhaps such an offer would have offended a +sensitive spirit. That is only a guess, of course, for I have no means +of knowing what Mrs. Upjohn's ideas were upon that subject. At all +events, she never gave Letty a chance of being offended at any such +offer. + +An occasion such as I have mentioned arose on the day of the Hazens' +fire, and Mrs. Upjohn had accordingly sent John Junior around to +Letty's house with the customary message. Which message John Junior +had delivered with an air of great dejection and with the very evident +hope that Miss Lambkin would be unable to come. But, alas! Miss +Lambkin smiled at John cheerfully and told him to tell his mother that +she would be there bright and early in the morning; that she had felt +it in her bones that Alicia Upjohn would be wanting her on that day, +and she had put off Mrs. Robbins and Mrs. Sarjeant on purpose so's +Alicia wouldn't have to wait. + +Whereupon John Junior muttered unintelligibly and turned away, leaving +Miss Lambkin gazing fondly after him and calling after him to know if +it wasn't cold. John Junior muttered again, inaudibly to Miss Lambkin, +but not unintelligibly. He was not fond of those sieges, to say the +least. + +"Darn it!" he muttered, kicking viciously at the ice. "That means two +weeks and I can't stay at Hen's all the whole time for two weeks. A +fellow has to be at home for meals. If she only wasn't there for +breakfast and supper!" John Junior kicked viciously at the ice again; +and, the ice proving refractory, he stubbed his toe and almost fell. +"Ow!" he said; "darn it!" But that was an afterthought. He betook him +to the harbor. + +There is some reason to believe that the late John Senior had not +regarded these visitations with more favor than did his son; there +were some that did not hesitate to say that his end had been hastened +by them and by the semiannual house-cleaning. Mrs. Upjohn was +considered a notable housekeeper. "She takes it hard," he had said to +Hen's father in an unguarded moment of confidence. Hen's father had +laughed. Hen's mother was not a notable housekeeper. John Senior had +sighed. At that time there was but one club in Whitby. He was not a +member of that club. Such men as Hugh Morton and Gerrit Torrington +were members; even John Hazen was said to be a member, although he was +never at the club-rooms. So even that solace was denied to John +Senior. He couldn't stay at Hen's house all the time either; and, +there seeming to be no other way of escape, he up and had a stroke and +died in two hours. At least, so rumor ran, the connection between +cause and effect being of rumor's making. I have no wish to contradict +it. I have no doubt that I should have wanted to do as John Senior had +done. Very possibly Patty had some such wish. + +The two weeks of Letty were now up and the end was not in sight. She +and Mrs. Upjohn sat in Mrs. Upjohn's sewing-room, which was strewn +with unfinished skirts and waists and scraps of cloth. Letty sewed +rapidly on the skirt; Mrs. Upjohn sewed slowly--very, very slowly--on +something. It really did not matter what. If the completion of Mrs. +Upjohn's clothes had depended upon Mrs. Upjohn's unaided efforts she +would never have had anything to wear. + +"Where's Patty gone, Alicia?" asked Letty, a thread between her teeth. +"Hospital?" + +Mrs. Upjohn stopped sewing. "Yes," she replied in her deliberate way. +"I believe her father is worse. She got a message this morning before +you came, and I think it was unfavorable, to judge by her face." + +"Land!" said Miss Lambkin. "I guess he's going to die. He's a pretty +old man. Eighty, if he's a day, would be my guess." + +Mrs. Upjohn nodded. "Just eighty." + +"Pretty good guess, I call it." Miss Lambkin laughed. "I thought he +must be pretty sick, or Patty wouldn't be out of the house as soon as +ever breakfast was over and not turn up again until dinner-time. Then, +as like as not, she'd be gone the whole afternoon. I hear he's got +pneumonia." + +Mrs. Upjohn nodded again. + +"And I hear," Letty continued, "that he got it getting chilled and wet +the night of the fire. 'T was an awful cold night, and he would stay +around the house and try to tell the firemen what they sh'd do. Of +course, they couldn't help squirting on him some." + +"I hope," said Mrs. Upjohn, "that they didn't mean to." + +"I hope not," Miss Lambkin returned. "I sh'd think the ones that did +it would have it on their consciences if they did. They tell me that +Sally Ladue discovered the fire. She and that Doctor Sanderson have +been at the Mortons' ever since and, if you can believe all you hear, +neither of 'em likes it any too well. Mrs. Morton's nice to her--she +can be as nice as nice to them that she likes, though you wouldn't +always think it--but Everett's the trouble." + +It was contrary to Mrs. Upjohn's principles to look surprised at any +piece of information--and as if she had not heard it before. She gave +a little laugh. + +"A good many girls," she remarked, "would give their eyes to be at the +Mortons' for two weeks." + +"I guess that's what's the trouble with Everett," said Miss Lambkin +pointedly. "Too much girl; and I guess he isn't any too particular +about the kind either." + +Mrs. Upjohn was curious. To be sure, she was always curious, which was +a fact that she flattered herself she concealed very neatly. Other +people were not of the same opinion. + +"Why, Letty?" she asked frankly. She seldom allowed her curiosity to +be so evident. "I've never heard of his being seen with any girls that +he ought not to be with. Have you?" + +"Oh, not in Whitby," replied Miss Lambkin. "Not for Joseph! As far's +that goes, he isn't seen very often with girls that he ought to be +with. But I hear that when he's in Boston it's a different story. Of +course, I haven't seen him with my own eyes, but I have reliable +information. You know he goes to Boston for weeks at a time." + +"M-m," assented Mrs. Upjohn, rocking quietly and comfortably. "He +stays at the best hotels, I believe." + +"_Registers_ at the most expensive," corrected Miss Lambkin, "I have +no doubt. I s'pose he stays there some of the time. To tell the +truth," she confessed, somewhat crestfallen at having to make the +humiliating confession, "I didn't just hear what Everett does that +Sally Ladue doesn't like." + +"Oh," said Mrs. Upjohn. She did not look up and there was a certain +air of triumph in the way she uttered that simple syllable which +grated on Miss Lambkin's sensibilities. + + +"Sally's a sort of high-and-mighty girl," continued Miss Lambkin +tentatively. + +"Sally's a nice girl and a good girl," said Mrs. Upjohn cordially; +"capable, I should say." + +"No doubt she is," Letty returned without enthusiasm. "It's rather +strange that she is all that, considering what her father did." + +Mrs. Upjohn laughed comfortably. "I used to know her father. There was +no telling what he would do." + +"Ran off with another woman," said Letty, "and some money. That's what +I heard." + +Mrs. Upjohn laughed again. "He disappeared," she conceded. "I never +heard that there was any other woman in the case and I'm reasonably +sure there wasn't any money." + +"He hasn't ever been heard of since?" + +Mrs. Upjohn shook her head. + +"And he left them without any money? I thought he stole it." + +"I don't think so. Doctor Sanderson kept them afloat for some time, I +believe, until Patty asked Sally here. Then he got Mrs. Ladue into +Doctor Galen's hospital." + +"M-m," Letty murmured slowly. She had a needle between her lips or she +would have said "o-oh." She removed the needle for the purpose of +speech. "So that's Doctor Sanderson's connection with the Ladues. I +always wondered. It might have been 'most anything. His sister's up +and coming. She'll have Dick Torrington if he don't look out. She's +made the most of her visit." + +Letty's murmur might have meant much or it might have meant nothing at +all. At all events, Mrs. Upjohn let it go unchallenged, possibly +because her curiosity was aroused by what Letty said later. She asked +no questions, however. She only waited, receptively, for further +communications on the subject of Henrietta and Dick. Miss Lambkin did +not vouchsafe further information on that subject, but immediately +branched off upon another. + +"I'm told," she said, with the rapidity of mental change that marked +her intellectual processes, "that John Hazen's house was in an awful +state the morning after the fire. I went around there as soon's ever I +could, to see what I could see, but the door was locked and I couldn't +get in. I looked in the windows, though, and the furniture's all gone +from some of the rooms, even to the carpets. There was a ladder there, +and I went up it, and the bedroom was all stripped clean. I couldn't +carry the ladder, so I didn't see the others. I made some inquiries +and I was told that the furniture was all stored in the stable. That +wasn't burned at all, you know. I thought that perhaps Patty'd been +and had it moved, though it don't seem hardly like her. It's more like +John Hazen himself. But he wasn't able." + +Mrs. Upjohn smiled and shook her head. "It wasn't Patty," she replied, +"or I should have known it. I guess it was Sally. Perhaps Doctor +Sanderson helped, but it is just like Sally. She's a great hand to +take hold and do things." + +"You don't tell me!" said Miss Lambkin. "But I don't suppose she did +it with her own hands. I shouldn't wonder," she remarked, "if she'd +find some good place to board, the first thing you know. She might go +to Miss Miller's. She could take 'em, I know, but she wouldn't have +room for Doctor Sanderson, only Sally and her mother and Charlie. +Charlie's a pup, that's what he is. But I can't see, for the life of +me, what Doctor Sanderson keeps hanging around here for. Why don't he +go home?" + +Not knowing, Mrs. Upjohn, for a wonder, did not undertake to say. Miss +Lambkin hazarded the guess that the doctor might be sparking around +Sally; but Mrs. Upjohn did not seem to think so. + +"Well," Letty went on, "I wonder what the Hazens'll do. It'd cost an +awful sight to repair that house; almost as much as to build a new +one. What insurance did you hear they had? Has Patty said?--This skirt +is about ready to try on, Alicia. I want to drape it real nice. Can't +you stand on the table?" + +She spread a folded newspaper on the top of the table. + +"There! Now, you won't mar the top. Take your skirt right off and +climb up." + +Mrs. Upjohn was a heavy woman and she obeyed with some difficulty. +Miss Lambkin continued in her pursuit of information while she draped +the skirt. + +"You haven't answered about the insurance, Alicia. What did Patty say +about it? I don't suppose Patty'd know exactly and I wouldn't trust +her guess anyway. John Hazen never seemed to, to any extent. Patty's +kind o' flighty, isn't she, and cracked on the men, although you +wouldn't think it from her highty-tighty manner. She used to think she +was going to marry Meriwether Beatty, I remember. Land! He had no more +idea of marrying her than I had. And she's been cracked on every man +that's more'n spoken to her since. She's got the symptoms of nervous +prostration; all the signs of it. I shouldn't be a bit surprised if +she went crazy, one o' these days. If Doctor Sanderson is looking for +patients for his sanitarium he needn't look any farther. Patty's it. +Turn around, Alicia. I don't get a good light on the other side. Why, +Patty's--" + +Mrs. Upjohn had heard the front door shut. "Sh-h-h!" she cautioned. +"Here's Patty now." + +They heard Patty come slowly up the stairs and, although there were no +sounds of it, she seemed to be weeping. + +"Now, I wonder," whispered Miss Lambkin, "what's the matter. Do you +s'pose her--" + +"Sh, Letty! She'll hear you. I'll get down and go to her." + +"Without a skirt, Alicia?" + +But Mrs. Upjohn did not heed. She got down from the table, clumsily +enough, and went to the door. Patty had just passed it. + +"Patty!" Mrs. Upjohn called softly. "Is there anything the matter?" + +Patty turned a miserable, tear-stained face. "It--it's all o-over," +she said dully. + +"Your father?" asked Mrs. Upjohn. She spoke in an awe-struck whisper +in spite of herself. Did not Death deserve such an attitude? + +Patty nodded silently. "I'm so sorry, Patty," Mrs. Upjohn's sympathy +was genuine. "I _am_ so sorry." + +"Oh, Alicia," Patty cried in a burst of grief, "my father's d-dead." + +Mrs. Upjohn folded ample arms about her and patted her on the shoulder +as if she had been a child. "There, there, Patty! I'm just as sorry as +I can be; and so will everybody be as soon as they hear of it. But +you just cry as much as you want to. It'll do you good." + +So they stood, Mrs. Upjohn unmindful of the fact that she had no skirt +and Patty crying into a lavender silk shoulder. + +"Land!" The voice was the voice of Miss Lambkin and it proceeded from +the doorway. "I'm awfully sorry to hear your father's dead, Patty. How +did--" + +Patty lifted her head majestically from the lavender silk shoulder. +"My grief is sacred," she murmured; and fled to her room. + +"Mercy me!" muttered Miss Lambkin. "I didn't have my kid gloves on. I +ought to have known better'n to speak to Patty without 'em. You may as +well come back, Alicia," she continued in a louder voice, "and finish +with that skirt. Perhaps, now, you'll be wanting a new black dress. +Your old one's pretty well out of fashion." + +She filled her mouth with pins while Mrs. Upjohn again mounted the +table. + +Mrs. Upjohn shook her head slowly. "No," she answered, "I guess the +old one will do for a while yet. I shouldn't want one for anything but +the funeral anyway, and you couldn't begin to get one done by that +time. It would be different if it was a relative." + +"It's curious," remarked Miss Lambkin, as well as she could with her +mouth full of pins, "how things go. Now, there's many of our +relatives--mine, anyway--that we could spare as well as not; better +than some of those that are no kin to us. And we have to wear black +for them and try to look sorry. Black isn't becoming to some, but it +seems to me you'd look full as well in it as you do in that lavender, +and that place on your shoulder where Patty cried tears is going to +show anyway. But, as I was going to say, a man like John Hazen is +going to be missed. I wonder who was there, at his death-bed. Patty, +of course, and Sally Ladue, I s'pose, and maybe Mrs. Ladue and +Meriwether Beatty. Sally was real fond of her Uncle John and he of +her. It's my opinion that Sally'll be sorrier than Patty will. Come +right down to it, Patty isn't so broken-hearted as she likes to think, +though she'll miss him." + +To this Mrs. Upjohn agreed, but Letty did not wait for her reply. + +"And I wonder," she went on, working rapidly while she talked, "how +much he's left. Patty hasn't said, I s'pose. I don't s'pose she'd have +much of an idea anyway, and I don't know's anybody could tell until +his business is all settled up. He had quite a number of vessels, and +it seems a great pity that there isn't anybody to take his business up +where he left it. He did well with it, I'm told. It's my guess that +you'll find that John Hazen's left Sally a good big slice." + +"I hope so, with all my heart." Mrs. Upjohn spoke cordially, as she +did invariably of Sally. + +"My!" Letty exclaimed with an anticipatory squeal of delight. +"Wouldn't it put Patty in a proper temper if he had! Now, Alicia," she +said, standing back and looking the skirt up and down, "we'll call +that skirt right. It hangs well, if I do say it. Take it off and I'll +finish it right up. You can come down now." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + + +Miss Lambkin was right. Sally found a place to board--a nice place, to +quote Letty Lambkin, although it was not Miss Miller's. No doubt Letty +was sorry that Sally had not chosen Miss Miller's, for Miss Miller was +an especial friend of Letty's; and, by choosing another place, Sally +had cut off, at a blow, a most reliable source of information. Very +possibly Sally did not think of this, but if she had, it would have +been but one more argument in favor of her choice, for Mrs. Stump +couldn't bear Letty, and she had vowed that she should never darken +her door. Letty would not have darkened the door very much. She was a +thin little thing. But, if Sally did not think of it, Letty did, and +she regretted it. She even went so far as to mention it to Mrs. +Upjohn. + +"If Sally Ladue thinks she's getting ahead of me," she said, with +sharp emphasis, "she'll find she's mistaken. I have my sources of +information." + +Mrs. Upjohn did not reprove her. She had an inordinate thirst for +information which did not concern her, and Letty was the most +unfailing source of it. So she only smiled sympathetically and said +nothing. She was sorry to be deprived of such accurate information +about Sally as Miss Miller would have supplied, but she still had +Patty. In fact, Mrs. Upjohn was beginning to wonder how much longer +she was to have Patty. Patty seemed to have no thought of going. +Indeed, she would not have known where to go. Patty was entering upon +some brand-new experiences, rather late in life. Already she was +beginning to miss the pendulum. + +Before Sally took this step which seemed to be so much more important +to others than to herself, various things had happened, of which Miss +Lambkin could have had no knowledge, even with her reliable sources of +information. Everett Morton had had an interview with his mother, at +her request. He would not have sought an interview, for he had a +premonition of the subject of it. + +Mrs. Morton was one of those rare women whom wealth had not spoiled; +that is, not wholly; not very much, indeed. There was still left a +great deal of her natural self, and that self was sweet and kind and +yielding enough, although, on occasions, she could be as decided as +she thought necessary. This was one of the occasions. The interview +was nearly over. It had been short and to the point, which concerned +Sally. + +"Well, Everett," said Mrs. Morton decidedly, "your attitude towards +Sally Ladue must be changed. I haven't been able to point out, as +exactly as I should like to do, just where it fails to be +satisfactory. But it does fail, and it must be changed." + +Everett was standing by the mantel, a cigarette between his fingers. +"You do not make your meaning clear, my dear mother," he replied +coldly. "If you would be good enough to specify any speech of mine? +Anything that I have said, at any time?" he suggested. "If there has +been anything said or done for which I should apologize, I shall be +quite ready to do so. It is a little difficult to know what you are +driving at." And he smiled in his most exasperating way. + +Mrs. Morton's color had been rising and her eyes glittered. Everett +should have observed and taken warning. Perhaps he did. + +"Everett," she said, as coldly as he had spoken and more incisively, +"you exhibit great skill in evasion. I wish that you would use your +skill to better advantage. I have no reason to think that there have +been any words of yours with which I could find fault, although I do +not know what you have said. But Sally could be trusted to take care +of that. It is your manner." + +Everett laughed. "But, my dear mother!" he protested, "I can't help +my manner. As well find fault with the color of my eyes or--" + +His mother interrupted him. "You can help it. It is of no use to +pretend that you don't know what I mean. You have wit enough." + +"Thank you." + +"And your manner is positively insulting. You have let even me see +that. Any woman would resent it, but she wouldn't speak of it. She +couldn't. Don't compel me to specify more particularly. You put Sally +in a very hard position, Everett, and in our own house, too. You ought +to have more pride, to say the least; the very least." + +Everett's color had been rising, too, as his mother spoke. "I am +obliged for your high opinion. May I ask what you fear as the +consequence of my insulting manner?" + +"You know as well as I," Mrs. Morton answered; "but I will tell you, +if you wish. Sally will go, of course, and will think as badly of us +as we deserve." + +"That," Everett replied slowly, "could perhaps be borne with +equanimity if she takes Doctor Sanderson with her." + +Mrs. Morton laughed suddenly. "Oh," she exclaimed, "so that is it! I +must confess that that had not occurred to me. Now, go along, Everett, +and for mercy's sake, be decent." + +Everett's color was still high, but if he felt any embarrassment he +succeeded in concealing it under his manner, of which his mother +seemed to have so high an opinion. + +He cast his cigarette into the fire. "If you have no more to say to +me, then, I will go," he said, smiling icily. His mother saying +nothing, but smiling at him, he bowed--English model--and was going +out. + +Mrs. Morton laughed again, suddenly and merrily. "Oh, Everett, +Everett!" she cried. "How old are you? I should think you were about +twelve." + +"Thank you," he replied; and he bowed again and left her. + +So Mrs. Morton had not been surprised when Sally came to her, a day or +two later, to say that she thought that they--Doctor Sanderson and +she--had imposed upon Mrs. Morton's kindness long enough and that she +had found a boarding-place for her mother and Charlie and herself. + +"I am very sorry to say that I am not surprised, Sally, dear," Mrs. +Morton returned, "although I am grievously disappointed. I had hoped +that you would stay with us until the house was habitable again. I +have tried," she added in some embarrassment, "to correct--" + +Sally flushed quickly. "Please don't speak of it, dear Mrs. Morton," +she said hastily. "It is--there has been nothing--" + +"Nonsense, Sally! Don't you suppose I see, having eyes? But we won't +speak of it, except to say that I am very sorry. And I think that you +wouldn't be annoyed again. Won't you think better of your decision and +stay until you can go to your own house?" + +"Oh, but nobody knows when that will be," Sally replied, smiling. +"Nothing has been done about it yet. Patty doesn't seem to know what +to do. Uncle John was the moving spirit." There were tears in her +eyes. + +"I know, Sally, dear, I know. I am as sorry as I can be. I am afraid," +she added with a queer little smile, "that I am sorrier for you than I +am for Patty." + +"Thank you. But you ought not to be, you know, for he rather--well, he +steadied Patty." + +Mrs. Morton laughed. "Yes, dear, I know. And you didn't need to be +steadied. But I'm afraid that I am, just the same." + +So it was settled, as anything was apt to be concerning which Sally +had made up her mind. Mrs. Ladue did not receive the announcement with +unalloyed joy. She smiled and she sighed. + +"I suppose it is settled," she said, "or you would not have told me. +Oh," seeing the distress in Sally's face, "it ought to be. It is quite +time. We have made a much longer visit upon Mrs. Torrington than we +ought to have made, but I can't help being sorry, rather, to exchange +her house for Mrs. Stump's. But why, Sally, if you found it +unpleasant--" + +"Oh, mother, I didn't say it was unpleasant. Mrs. Morton was as kind +as any one could possibly be." + +"I am glad, dear. I was only going to ask why Fox stayed." + +Fox murmured something about Christian martyrs and a den of lions, and +Mrs. Ladue laughed. Then she sighed again. + +"Well," she said, "all right, Sally. You will let me know, I suppose, +when we are to go. We can't stay on here forever, although I'd like +to." + +At that moment Dick came in. "Why not?" he asked. "Why not stay, if +you like it?" + +"How absurd, Dick!" Sally protested. "You are very kind, but you know +mother will have to go pretty soon. And I've found a very good place." + +"If Sally says so, it's so," Dick retorted, "and there's no use in +saying any more about it. Mrs. Stump's or Miss Miller's?" + +Fox had been looking out of the window. He turned. "Mrs. Ladue," he +asked suddenly, "will you go sleighing with me to-morrow? It will be +about my last chance, for I go back when Sally leaves the Mortons'." + +"Oh," cried Sally, "why not me, too? And Henrietta?" + +Fox smiled at her. "There's a reason," he said. "I'll take you when +the time is ripe. I have something to show your mother and we have to +go after it." + +"Can't you get it and show it to me, too?" + +Fox shook his head. "I'm afraid not. It isn't mine, for one thing." + +"Oh," said Sally, her head in the air. "And I suppose you'll go in the +morning, when I'm in school." + +"That might not be a bad idea. We might be followed. Can you go in the +morning, Mrs. Ladue?" + +She laughed and nodded. She would go at any time that suited him. + +So it chanced that Fox and Mrs. Ladue started out, the next morning. +Fox drove along Apple Tree Street and turned into another street. + +"Isn't this Smith Street?" asked Mrs. Ladue doubtfully. "Where are we +going, Fox?" + +"I'm astonished at your question," he replied. "You ought to know that +this is still Witch Lane for all the old families, in spite of the +fact that it is known, officially, as Smith Street. I have yet a very +distinct recollection of Miss Patty's lamentations over the change. +That was ten years ago, when Sally first arrived." + +Mrs. Ladue laughed. She would have laughed at anything that morning. + +"But, do you mind telling me where we are going?" + +"I can't tell you exactly, as I am not very familiar with the country +here. I know where I am going," he explained hastily, "but I doubt if +I could tell you. We shall come to the end of the built-up part pretty +soon, and then it takes us out into the country. There'll be a turn or +two, and what I want you to see is about two miles out. Mr. Morton," +he added, "put a horse at my service, and I have been exploring. I +have not wasted my time." + +Mrs. Ladue made no reply. She was happy enough, without the need of +speech. They drove on, past the built-up part, as Fox had said, past +more thinly scattered houses, with little gardens, the corn-stubble +already beginning to show above the snow, here and there, for it had +been thawing. Then they began to pass small farms, and then, as they +made the first of the turn or two, the farms were larger, and there +were rows of milk-cans on their pegs in the sun. + +Suddenly Mrs. Ladue laughed. "Now I know where I am," she exclaimed. +"That is, I remember that Uncle John Hazen brought me out here one +day, nearly two years ago. He wanted to show me something, too." + +Fox turned and looked at her. "That is interesting," he said. "I +wonder if he showed you the same place that I am going to show you." + +Mrs. Ladue only smiled mysteriously; and when, at last, Fox stopped +his horse and said "There!" she was laughing quietly. He looked +puzzled. + +"The same," she said. "The very same." + +"Well," Fox replied slowly, "I admire his taste. It is worth looking +at." + +It was a very large house, looking out from beneath its canopy of elms +over a wide valley; a pleasant prospect of gentle hills and dales, +with the little river winding quietly below. + +"It is worth looking at," said Fox again. He looked at her, then. She +was not laughing, but there was a merry look in her eyes. "What amuses +you? I should rather like to know. Isn't my hat on straight?" + +She shook her head. "I'll tell you before long. But it is really +nothing." Truly it didn't need much to amuse her on that day. + +He looked at her again, then looked away. "The house looks as if it +might have been a hotel," he remarked; "a little hotel, with all the +comforts of home. It is very homelike. It seems to invite you." + +"Yes," she replied, "it does." + +"And the barn," he went on, "is not too near the house, but yet near +enough, and it is very well ordered and it has all the modern +improvements. All the modern improvements include a tiled milking-room +and, next to it, a tiled milk-room with all the most improved +equipment, and a wash-room for the milkers and a herd of about +twenty-five registered Guernseys. I know, for I have been over it." + +"That sounds very good. I know very little about such things." + +"I have had to know. It is a part of my business. That barn and that +outfit would be very convenient if the house were--for instance--a +private hospital. Now, wouldn't it?" + +She made no reply and he turned to her again. She was looking at him +in amazement, and her face expressed doubt and a dawning gladness. + +"Oh, Fox!" + +"Now, wouldn't it?" + +"Yes," she murmured, in a low voice. + +"And the house seems not unsuitable for such a purpose. I have not +been over the house." + +"Fox! Will you tell me what you mean?" + +He laughed out. "The old skinflint who lives there says he can't sell +it. He seemed very intelligent, too; intellect enough to name a price +if he wanted to. And I would not stick at the price if it were within +the bounds of reason." + +"I think," Mrs. Ladue remarked, "that I could tell you why your old +skinflint couldn't sell it." + +"Why?" Fox asked peremptorily. + +"When you have shown me all you have to show," she answered, the look +of quiet amusement again about her eyes and mouth, "I will tell you; +that is, if you tell me first what you mean." + +He continued looking for a few moments in silence. She bore his +scrutiny as calmly as she could. Then he turned, quickly, and drew the +reins tight. + +"Get up, you ancient scion of a livery stable." The horse started +reluctantly. "There is something else," he added, "just down the road +a bit." + +"I thought so," she said. "It is a square house, painted a cream +color, with a few elms around it, and quite a grove at a little +distance behind it." + +"It is. But you forgot the barn and the chicken-houses." + +She laughed joyously. "I didn't think of them." + +"And the well-sweep." + +"I'm afraid I didn't think of that, either." + +"I should really like to know how you knew," he observed, as if +wondering. "Perhaps it is not worth while going there. But I want to +see it again, if you don't." + +"Oh, I do. I am very much interested, and you know you are to tell me +what you are planning." + +"Yes," he replied. "I meant to tell you. That was what I brought you +for. But I thought you would be surprised and I hoped that you might +be pleased." + +"Trust me for that, Fox, if your plans are what I hope they are. If +they are, I shall be very happy." + +They stopped in the road before the square house that was painted +cream color. Fox gazed at it longingly. It seemed to be saying, "Come +in! Come in!" and reaching out arms to him. There was the old well at +one side, with its great sweep. The ground about the well was bare of +snow and there was a path from it to the kitchen door. Thin curls of +smoke were coming lazily from each of the great chimneys. + +He sighed, at last, and turned to Mrs. Ladue. "I should like to live +there," he said. + +"You would find it rather a hardship, I am afraid," she returned, +watching him closely, "depending upon that well, picturesque as it +is." + +He laughed. "Easy enough to lay pipes from the hotel, back there." He +nodded in the direction of the larger house, the one of the +twenty-five Guernseys and the model barn. "They have a large supply +and a power pump. Ask me something harder." + +"The heating," she ventured. "Fires--open fires--are very nice and +necessary. But they wouldn't be sufficient." + +He laughed again. "It is not impossible to put in a heating-system. +One might even run steam pipes along with the water pipes and heat +from their boilers. I press the button, they do the rest." + +"Well, I can't seem to think of any other objection. And there is a +very good view." + +"A very good view," he repeated. He was silent for a while. "I have +done very well in the past five or six years," he said then, "and the +wish that has been growing--my dearest wish, if you like--has been to +establish a sort of private hospital about here somewhere. It wouldn't +be a hospital, exactly; anyway, my patients might not like the word. +And I should hate to call it a sanitarium. Call it Sanderson's +Retreat." He smiled at the words. "That's it. We'll call it +Sanderson's Retreat." + +It would have warmed his heart if he could have seen her face; but he +was not looking. + +"I am very glad, Fox," she murmured. "That makes me very happy." + +"Sanderson's Retreat?" he asked, turning to her. "But I haven't got +it. Just as I thought I had found it I found that I couldn't get it." + +"Perhaps that old skinflint who lives there doesn't own it," she +suggested. + +"Of course I thought of that," he answered, with some impatience. "But +how am I to find out about it without exciting the cupidity of the +native farmers? Once aroused, it is a terrible thing. I might +advertise: 'Wanted, a place of not less than fifty acres, with large +house commanding a good view over a valley, a herd of about +twenty-five Guernseys, a barn with all the modern improvements, and a +power pump. Price no object.' Rather narrows it down a trifle." + +Mrs. Ladue almost chuckled. "I won't keep you in suspense," she said. +"Uncle John owned it when he brought me out here. He told me so. And +he owned this house, too." + +"Uncle John!" cried Fox. "He knew a thing or two, didn't he? I wish I +had found it while he was living. Now, I suppose I shall have to buy +it of Miss Patty; that is, if I can. Who is the executor of the will? +Do you know?" + +She shook her head. "I haven't heard anything about the will, yet. I +think it's likely to be Dick Torrington. Uncle John seemed to like +Dick very much and he thought very well of him." + +"I'll see Dick Torrington to-day. We may as well go back." He turned +the horse about; then stopped again, looking back at the cream-colored +house. He looked for a long time. "It's very pleasant," he said, at +last, sighing. "Those trees, now--those in the grove--do they strike +you as being suitable for a gynesaurus to climb? Do they?" he asked +softly. + +His eyes looked into hers for a moment. His eyes were very +gentle--oh, very gentle, indeed, and somewhat wistful; windows of the +soul. At that moment he was laying bare his heart to her. She knew it; +it was a thing she had never known him to do before. + +She put her hand to her heart; an involuntary movement. "Oh, Fox!" she +breathed. "Oh, Fox!" Then she spoke eagerly. "Will you--are you going +to--" + +He smiled at her, and his smile was full of gentleness and patience. +"I hope so," he answered. "In the fullness of time. It is a part of my +dearest wish. Yes, when the time is ripe, I mean to. Not yet. She is +not ready for it yet." + +"She is nearly twenty-one," Mrs Ladue said anxiously, "and beginning +to be restless under her teaching. Don't wait too long, Fox. Don't +wait too long." + +"I have your blessing, then? I have your best wishes for my success?" + +"You know you have," she murmured, a little catch in her voice. + +"I thought that I could count on them," he replied gratefully, "but I +thank you for making me certain of it." + +She seemed as if about to speak; but she said nothing, after all. Fox +smiled and took up the reins again. The drive back was a silent one. +Fox was busy with his own thoughts; and Mrs. Ladue, it is to be +supposed, was busy with hers. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + + +Dick Torrington was out when Fox called at his office, early that +afternoon. They were expecting him at any moment. He had not come back +from lunch yet. He did not usually stay so long and wouldn't Doctor +Sanderson take a seat and wait a few minutes? Accordingly, Doctor +Sanderson took a seat and waited a few minutes. He waited a good many +minutes. He read the paper through; then paced slowly up and down the +waiting-room. Were they sure Mr. Torrington would come back? Oh, yes, +they thought so. They did not know what could be keeping him. So +Doctor Sanderson thought he would wait a few minutes longer. + +The truth was that it was Henrietta who was keeping Dick away from his +office and his waiting clients. As she was to go within a few days, +Dick thought the time propitious for taking her for a last sleigh +ride; it might happen to be the last and it might not. Henrietta, too, +thought the time propitious. I don't know what Fox would have thought, +if he had known it. Most likely he would have grinned and have said +nothing, keeping his thoughts to himself. He was an adept at keeping +his thoughts to himself. But there is reason to believe that he would +not have waited. Just as his patience was utterly exhausted and he was +going out, Dick came in. There was a rather shamefaced grin of +pleasure on his face which changed to a welcoming smile when he saw +Fox. It was a very welcoming smile; more welcoming than the occasion +seemed to call for. Fox wondered at it. But he was not to find out the +reason that day. + +They came to business at once. Dick was the executor, but he had not +notified the beneficiaries under the will yet. It was really a very +short time since Mr. Hazen's death. Fox, wondering what that had to do +with the matter, protested mildly that the only question with him was +whether he could buy certain properties of the estate. He would prefer +to deal with Dick rather than with Miss Patty. + +Dick laughed. "Oh," he said, "I forgot that you didn't know. Those +pieces of property that you are after--I know very well what they +are," he interrupted himself to say, "and I can guess what you want +them for--those pieces of property were left to Sally. I shall have to +refer you to her." + +Fox's amazement was comical. "Left to Sally!" he exclaimed. "Well! And +it never occurred to me." + +"It probably has never occurred to Sally either," Dick suggested. "She +has more than that. Her uncle John was very fond of her." + +"I am sure that it has not occurred to Sally. What will Miss Patty +think?" + +Dick shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "Nobody does. I don't +know just how she feels toward Sally. If it were Charlie, now,--but it +isn't. About these properties, you will have to see Sally. She isn't +at liberty to dispose of them yet, but if she agrees to, there will be +no difficulty. I shall not stand in the way of your doing anything you +want to do with them. It happens that the lease of them runs out in a +few months. I really don't believe that Miss Patty will contest the +will, even if she doesn't just like it. Mr. Hazen's word was the law, +you know." + +Fox was looking out of the window and, as he looked, his glance +chanced to fall upon Miss Patty herself, stepping along in a way which +she had fondly flattered herself was dainty. + +He smiled. "You never can tell about these nervous patients," he +observed. "They may do anything--or they may not. But I think I'd +better see Sally and break the news." + +He found the chance on the evening of that same day. Everett went +out, immediately after dinner, as was his habit, and Mrs. Morton left +them alone. Sally was reading. + +"Sally," said Fox, "I understand that you are an heiress." + +Sally put down her book suddenly and gave him a startled glance. "Oh," +she exclaimed, "I hope not! Who told you?" + +"Dick Torrington. He is the executor." + +"Oh, Fox!" she cried. She seemed dismayed. "And Dick knows. But Patty +will never forgive me. Can't I help it?" + +"No doubt," he replied, smiling, "but I hope you won't, for I want to +buy some of your property." + +She laughed joyously. "I'll give it to you, you mercenary man! At +last, Fox, I can get even with you--but only partly," she hastened to +add; "only partly. Please say that you'll let me give it to you." + +Fox was embarrassed. "Bless you, Sally!" he said. At that moment, he +was very near to heeding Mrs. Ladue's injunction not to wait too long. +He stopped in time. "Bless you, Sally! You have paid me. I don't need +money anyway." + +"Neither do I." + +"The time may come when you will. It is a handy thing to have," he +went on. "I promise to let you pay me some day," he added hastily, +seeing that she was about to insist, "in kind." + +Sally nodded with satisfaction. "I'll do it," she said, "in kind. That +usually means potatoes and corn and firewood, doesn't it." + +"Not this time, it doesn't. But I can't let you think of giving me +these places." + +"You can't help my thinking of giving them to you," she interrupted. + +"For you don't even know what they are," Fox continued. "I didn't mean +to tell you yet, but I have to." And he told her what he wanted to do; +but only a part. It is to be noted that he said nothing about +gynesauruses and coal-trees. + +When he had finished Sally sighed. "It's too bad that I can't give +them to you, Fox. I think it would be a very good way; an excellent +way." + +"Excellent?" he asked. + +"Yes, excellent," Sally answered, looking at him and smiling in her +amused way. "Why isn't it?" + +"Nonsense! It's absurd; preposterous. It's positively shocking. Sally, +I'm surprised at you." + +Sally shook her head. "No," she said obstinately, "it's an excellent +way to do. You can't say why it isn't. Why, just think, then I should +feel that I could come there when I am old or when I break down from +overwork. Teachers are apt to break down, I understand, and now, when +they do, there seems to be no course open to them but to hire a +hearse--if they've saved money enough. Think how much easier I should +feel in my mind if Sanderson's Retreat were open to me." And Sally +chuckled at the thought. + +"But Sanderson's Retreat would be open to you in any case," Fox +protested. "You would not have to hire a hearse. It is my business to +prevent such excursions. Have I ever failed you, Sally?" + +"Oh, Fox, never." There were tears in her eyes as she got up quickly +and almost ran to him. "Never, never, Fox. That is why, don't you see? +I want to do something for you, Fox. You have done so much for me--for +us." + +He was standing by the fire. As she came, he held out his hands and +she gave him both of hers. Ah! Doctor Sanderson, you are in danger of +forgetting your resolution; that resolution which you thought was so +wise. In truth, the words trembled on the tip of his tongue. But +Sally's "for us" brought him to his senses. + +"Oh, Sally, Sally!" he said ruefully. "You don't know. You don't +know." + +"Well," Sally replied impatiently, after she had waited in vain for +some moments for him to finish, "what don't I know? I don't know +everything. I am aware of that, and that is the first step to +knowledge." + +"You come near enough to it," he returned, as if speaking to himself. +He was looking down, as he spoke, into great gray eyes which, somehow, +were very soft and tender. He looked away. "Sometime you will know." + +"Everything?" asked Sally, smiling. + +"Everything that is worth knowing," he answered gently. "Yes, +everything that is worth knowing," he repeated, slowly. + +Sally pondered for a brief instant; then flushed a little, but so +little that you would scarcely have noticed it, especially if you had +been looking away from her, as Fox was at some pains to do. + +"We have not settled that question, Fox," she said. He still held her +hands, but he scarcely glanced at her. "Fox,"--giving him a gentle +shake,--"pay attention and look at me." He looked at her, trying not +to let his eyes tell tales. Very likely Sally would think they told of +no more than the brotherly affection which she had become used to, +from him. Very likely that was what she did think. She gave no sign +that she saw more than that, at any rate. "_Please_ let me give them +to you," she pleaded, eagerly. "I want to." + +He shook his head. "Oh, Sally, Sally!" he said again. "It is hard +enough to refuse you anything; but I can't let you do this, for your +own sake. What would people think?" + +"Oh, fiddle! What business is it of theirs? And how would they know +anything about it?" + +"I have no doubt there are some who would at once institute inquiries. +You probably know such people." + +Sally chuckled. "Letty Lambkin might. But what would it matter if they +did?" + +"I should hate to think that I was responsible for making you talked +about." + +"Then you won't take them, Fox? Not even if I get down on my knees?" +Again there were tears in her eyes. + +Fox shook his head. "I can't," he said gently. "I can't take them on +those terms." + +Sally sighed and smiled. "So I am repulsed, then. My gifts are +spurned." + +Fox was very uncomfortable. "But, Sally--" he began. + +She brightened suddenly. "I know!" she cried. "I'll lease them to you +for ninety-nine years. Isn't that what they do when they can't do +anything else? And you'll have to pay--oh, ever so much rent." + +He laughed. "All right. I guess that'll be as long as I shall have use +for them. But you'll have to charge me enough." + +"Oh, I'll charge you enough," she said nodding; "never fear. I'll +consult Dick and take his advice. _Then_ perhaps you'll be satisfied." + +"I'll be satisfied," he replied. "I'm very grateful, Sally." + +"Nonsense! You're not. You're only complacent because you think you've +had your own way, and I didn't mean that you should have it." She took +her hands away at last. "Here's Mrs. Morton," she said gently. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + + +What Patty really thought about the provisions of her father's will is +not recorded. Indeed, it is doubtful whether she had anything more +nearly approaching consecutive thought on the subject than a vague +resentment toward Sally and a querulous disposition to find fault with +her. For, with the lapse of years, Patty was becoming less and less +able to think rationally--to direct her thoughts--or to think +consecutively on any subject. She had never been conspicuous for her +ability in that direction. What she said was another matter. What +business had Sally to benefit by her father's will? A poor relation +whom she, Patty, had befriended, no more. It never occurred to her to +blame her father any more than it occurred to her to tell the whole +truth about that little matter of befriending. Patty thought that she +told the truth. She meant to. + +There was some excuse for Patty's disappointment. One does not easily +rest content with but little more than half a fortune when one has, +for years, had reason to expect the whole of it. It was a modest +fortune enough, but the fact that it turned out to be nearly twice +what Patty had counted upon, and that, consequently, she was left with +just about what she had expected, did not make her disappointment any +the lighter, but rather the reverse. And she did not stop to consider +that she would be relieved of what she was pleased to term the burden +of supporting the Ladues, and that she would have, at her own +disposal, more money than she had ever had. Not at all. Even when Dick +pointed out to her that very fact, it did not change her feeling. +Somehow, she did not know exactly how, Sally had cheated her out of +her birthright. She wouldn't call it stealing, but-- + +"No," Dick observed cheerfully. "I should think you had better not +call it that. It will be as well if you restrain your speech on the +subject." + +That was rather a strong remark for Dick Torrington to make, but he +felt strongly where Sally was concerned. He felt strongly where Patty +was concerned; but the feeling was different. + +It was not strange that, in the face of such feeling on Patty's part, +Sally should feel strongly, too. She did feel strongly. She was +genuinely distressed about it and would have been glad to give up any +benefits under the will, and she went to Dick and told him so. He +tried to dissuade her from taking such a course. There were other +aspects of such a case than the mere feeling of one of the heirs about +another. Why, wills would be practically upset generally if any one +heir, by making a sufficiently strong protest, could, to use Dick's +own words, freeze out the others, and it would be of little use for a +man to make a will if many were of Sally's mind. In this case, as +usually in such cases, the will expressed the testator's own +well-founded intention. Mr. Hazen had expected some such outburst from +Patty. Was that to prevent his wish, his will from being carried out? +He earnestly hoped not. All socialists to the contrary, +notwithstanding, he was of the opinion that any man, living or dead, +should be able to do as he liked with his own; that is, with certain +reasonable reservations, which would not apply in the case of her +Uncle John. + +"I suppose, Sally," he concluded, "that if he had given it to you +while he was living, you would have taken it, perhaps?" + +"No, indeed," Sally replied indignantly. "Of course I wouldn't. What +made you think that, Dick?" + +"To tell the truth," he said, "I didn't think it. Well, would it make +any difference in your feeling about it to know that he felt that Miss +Patty was not competent to take care of it?" + +She shook her head and sighed. "I don't see that it would; I can't +unravel the right and wrong of it. If you think that my taking it +would have pleased Uncle John, and if you tell me that Patty has as +much as she can wish--" + +"Oh, not that. But she has enough to enable her to live in luxury the +rest of her life." + +Sally laughed. "We have great possibilities when it comes to wishing, +haven't we? And you advise my taking it?" + +"Most certainly." + +"Then I will." + +"I wonder why," Dick asked, "you don't want it?" + +She hesitated for an instant. "I do," she said, then, laughing again. +"That's just the trouble. If I hadn't wanted it I might have been more +ready to take it." + +She met Captain Forsyth on the way home. She had just been thinking +that, after all, she could let Fox go ahead with his Retreat. She +would not have to back out of that bargain, for which she was glad. +And there were other things-- + +It was at this point in her reflections that Captain Forsyth bore down +and hailed her. She answered his hail with a smile and waited. + +"I was just going into Dick Torrington's office," he began, in a +gentle roar, "to get him to reason with you. I heard, Sally, that you +were thinking of refusing the legacy of your Uncle John." + +She nodded. "I was, but--" + +"Don't you do it," he shouted earnestly. He could have been heard for +a block, if there had been anybody to hear him. "Don't you do it, +Sally! You mustn't let Patty scare you out of taking what he meant +that you should have--what he wanted you to have. She'll have enough; +more than she can take care of. Patty couldn't take proper care of a +cat. And John Hazen was very fond of you, Sally. You do this much for +him." + +"I'm going to, Captain Forsyth," she answered gently. "I've just told +Dick so." + +"Well, I'm glad," he said, with satisfaction. "It's been on my mind +for some days, and I thought I'd better see what I could do about it. +Your Uncle John said a good deal about you, first and last. He'd be +pleased. When you want anything, come to me; though you're not likely +to be wanting anything unless it's advice. I've barrels of that ready. +Good-bye, Sally." + +Sally went home--if Mrs. Stump's could be called home--rather +depressed in spirits. In spite of what people considered her good +fortune, she continued in low spirits all through that spring and +summer. Patty, to be sure, was covertly hostile, but that was hardly +enough to account for it. Sally was aware of the unhealthy state of +her mind and thought about it more than was good for her. It is a bad +habit to get into; a very reprehensible habit, and she knew it, but +she couldn't help it. You never can help doing it when you most +shouldn't. It reminded her of the shiftless man's roof, which needed +shingling. + +Very likely she was only tired with her winter's teaching and with the +events which had been crowded into those few weeks. They were +important events for her and had been trying. She began to hesitate +and to have doubts and to wonder. It was not like Sally to have +doubts, and she who hesitates is lost. She said so to herself many +times, with a sad little smile which would almost have broken Fox's +heart if he had seen it, and would surely have precipitated an event +which ought to have been precipitated. + +But Fox was not there to see it and to help her in her time of doubt, +and to be precipitate and unwise. She found herself wondering whether +she had better keep on with her teaching, now that she did not have +to. There was less incentive to it than there had been. Was it worth +while? Was anything worth while, indeed? What had she to look forward +to after years of teaching, when her enthusiasm was spent? Was it +already spent? What was there in it but going over the same old round, +year after year? What was there at the end? If the children could be +carried on, year after year--if they were her own--and Sally blushed +faintly and stopped there. + +But she wondered whether Henrietta had been right. What Henrietta had +said so lightly, the night of the fire, had sunk deeper than Sally +knew or than Henrietta had intended. Sally was beginning to think that +Henrietta was right and that girls, down at the bottom of their +hearts, were looking for men. She didn't like to confess it to +herself. She shrank from the whole subject; but why shouldn't +they--the girls--provided it is only at the bottom of their hearts? +They did; some of them did, at any rate. It is doubtful whether Sally +probed as deep as the bottom of her heart. Perhaps she was afraid to. + +Yes, as I started out by saying, no doubt she was only tired,--beat +out, as Miss Lambkin would have said; and she was lonelier than she +had ever been. She missed Uncle John. It seemed to her that there was +nobody to whom she could turn. Probably Captain Forsyth had had some +such idea when he made his clumsy offer of advice. But Captain Forsyth +would not do. Sally would have been glad enough of somebody to turn +to. It was a peculiarly favorable time for Fox, if he had only known +it. It was a rather favorable time for anybody; for Jane Spencer, or +even for Everett Morton. For Everett had begun, as anybody could see +with half an eye, as Letty Lambkin put it briskly. Altogether Sally's +affairs had become a fit topic of conversation for people who bother +themselves about other people's business. + +Miss Lambkin did. She had tried to talk with Mrs. Sarjeant about the +matter, but Mrs. Sarjeant had promptly shut her up. Whereupon Miss +Lambkin, with her head in the air, had betaken herself to Mrs. Upjohn. + +Mrs. Upjohn did not shut her up. She wanted to hear what Letty had to +tell and she wished to contribute whatever she could, that Letty did +not know, to the fund of general information; without seeming to, of +course. + +"Well, Alicia," Letty began, as soon as she had got into the house and +before she had had time to remove her hat, "I thought I'd come and do +for you now, even if it is a week before the time I set. Mrs. +Sarjeant can wait awhile, I guess. She can't need me. She told me +yesterday that she didn't care to listen to gossip. As if I gossiped, +Alicia! Why, I was only saying that Sally Ladue and Everett seemed to +be pretty thick now, and I shouldn't wonder if they hit it off. And I +shouldn't, either, Mrs. Sarjeant or no Mrs. Sarjeant. Anybody can see +he's paying her attention and she's letting him." Miss Lambkin shut +her lips with a snap. "Now, isn't he?" + +Mrs. Upjohn did not answer her directly. She only laughed comfortably +and suggested that they go right up to the sewing-room. + +"Patty made you quite a visit, didn't she?" Letty began again, while +she hunted scissors and needles and a tape. "Did you have to send her +off to Miss Miller's?" + +Mrs. Upjohn shook her head. + +"That's a good thing. It wouldn't have been pleasant," Miss Lambkin +resumed. "I hear that she's feeling real bitter towards Sally and that +Sally means to live somewhere else, whether Patty repairs the house or +not, but Patty won't hear to it. I notice, though, that nothing's been +done to the house yet. I'm told that Patty's going right at it. She'd +better, if she wants to live there before next summer, for this is +September and the builders are awful deliberate. Now that Doctor +Sanderson doesn't let the grass grow under his feet. Did you know that +his new hospital's going to be ready before cold weather? And he +hasn't been here, himself, more 'n a day at a time. Where's that +little cutting-table, Alicia? In your room? I'll just run in and get +it. You sit still." + +Mrs. Upjohn did not like to trust Letty alone in her room, for she had +the eye of a hawk; but Letty was gone before she could prevent her. +She was back in a moment, and Mrs. Upjohn breathed more freely. + +"As I was saying," Miss Lambkin continued, "that Doctor Sanderson had +better be looking out if he wants Sally Ladue. Maybe he don't, but I +notice that Eugene Spencer's fluttering around her again and +Everett's doing more'n flutter. + +"It seems queer to think of Everett as anything but what he has been +for some years. He isn't much in favor with some of the older men. I +heard that Cap'n Forsyth said that he wouldn't trust him with a +slush-bucket. And that pup of a brother of Sally's is copying after +Everett as well as he can. He's going to college in a couple of weeks +and there's no telling what he'll be up to there. I'm glad I don't +have the running of him. Everett's no pattern to cut _my_ goods to." + +"No," agreed Mrs. Upjohn soberly. "I can't think what has come over +Sally. I never thought she would be dazzled, though I won't deny that +Everett can be attractive." + +"Come to that," snapped Miss Lambkin, "Everett's handsome and rich +and, as you say, he knows how to be attractive. Anyway, there's a +plenty that would be only too glad to have a chance at him. Now, if +you were of a suitable age, Alicia, you'd snap him up quick enough if +you had the chance, and you know it." + +Mrs. Upjohn only murmured an unintelligible protest, but her color +rose. She would have snapped him up, and she knew it. Letty Lambkin +was really getting to be unbearable. + + + + +CHAPTER X + + +Charlie Ladue was a bright boy and a handsome boy, and he had good +enough manners. His attempts at seeming bored and uninterested only +amused certain intelligent persons in Cambridge, to whom he had +introductions, and attracted them. He was very young and rather +distinguished looking and these were the hallmarks of youth; of youth +which wishes to be thought of an experience prehistoric; of youth +which dreads nothing else so much as to appear young. He would get +over these faults quickly; and these intelligent persons laughed +quietly to themselves and continued to ask him to their houses--for a +time. But the faults rather grew upon him than lessened, so that he +became a nuisance and seemed likely to become worse, and they quietly +dropped him, before he was half through his freshman year. + +His faults were his own, of course. Faults always are one's own when +all is said and done, and they usually come home to roost; but that +they had developed to such an extent was largely due to Patty's +indulgence and over-fondness. She was to blame, but not wholly. It is +hard to fix the blame, even supposing that it would help the matter to +fix it. When they came to Whitby, Sally was too young to oppose Miss +Patty, and for four years Charlie had no mother; much longer, indeed. +The circumstances may have been Charlie's undoing, but it is a little +difficult to see why the circumstances did not do the same for Sally, +and she was not undone yet. No, I am forced to the conclusion, that, +in Charlie's case, circumstances could not be held responsible for +anything more than hurrying things up a little. + +As I said, Charlie was very young. He had passed his finals with +flying colors in the preceding June, nearly two months before his +seventeenth birthday, and he was but just seventeen when he began his +college career. Whatever may be said, seventeen is too young for a boy +to enter college and to be given the large liberties which a boy--a +college "man"--has in any of our large colleges. Eighteen or nineteen +is a much safer age, especially for a boy like Charlie Ladue. The +faults which I have mentioned soon disgusted and repelled the most +desirable elements in college and left him with--not one of--the least +desirable. Even with them he was only tolerated, never liked, and they +got out of him what they could. With them there was no incentive to +study, which was a pity, for Charlie did very well with a surprisingly +small amount of work, and would have done exceedingly well with a +little more, but he needed compulsion in some form. As it was, he very +soon got to doing just enough to keep himself afloat. He could study +hard when he had to, and he did. + +Patty had got to work, at last, upon the repairs to her house. It was +October before she made up her mind and well into November before work +began; and builders are awful deliberate, as Miss Lambkin had +remarked. As the work went on, the time when the house would be ready +retreated gradually into the future. But Miss Patty consoled herself +with the thought that Charlie would not be able to help her occupy it +before the next summer anyway. Although she had insisted that Mrs. +Ladue and Sally should live there as soon as it was ready,--it was a +question of pride with Miss Patty, not a question of her wish in the +matter,--and although she was expecting them to live there, it was by +no means sure that Sally would consent to come. Miss Patty did not +trouble herself greatly about that. But the thought that Charlie might +not would have filled her with consternation. She was looking forward +to the Christmas recess, and to having Charlie with her for two weeks, +at least. + +But when the Christmas recess arrived and work was over, Charlie, +feeling much relieved, sat down to a quiet evening with four +congenial spirits who also felt much relieved and who wished to +celebrate their temporary freedom in the only way they knew. I was +wrong in calling it the only way. It was one of the few ways they knew +in which to celebrate anything. When Charlie rose from the table, +about midnight, he felt rather desperate, for he had lost heavily. He +could not afford to lose heavily. + +One of the congenial spirits saw the look upon his face and laughed. +"Don't you care, Ladue," he cried. "All is not lost. You needn't +commit suicide yet. We'll stake you. Haven't you got a dollar left?" + +Charlie forced a sickly smile, which disappeared the instant he ceased +to force it. He pulled out the contents of his pockets. "I've got," he +answered, counting soberly, "just fifty-four cents in cash. They'll +expect me home to-night--they expected me last night," he corrected +himself, "I can't go, for I haven't got the price of a ticket. And +I've given you fellows my IOU's," he went on, looking up with an +attempt to face it out,--a pitiful attempt,--"for--how much, Ned?" + +"Two hundred for mine," Ned replied, spreading Charlie's poor little +notes on the table. "Anybody else got 'em?" He looked around, but the +others shook their heads. "It seems to be up to me to lend you, +Ladue." Carelessly, he tossed a ten-dollar bill across the table. "Go +home on that and see if you can't work the house for three hundred or +so and take these up. Don't thank me." Charlie had taken the bill and +begun to speak. "I'm doing it for cash, not sentiment. What do you +suppose these IOU's are worth if you can't work somebody for the +money?" + +Charlie, reduced to silence, pocketed the bill. + +"I've a notion," Ned continued, "that I'll go to town and look in at +number seven. Luck's with me to-night. May do something there. Who +goes with me?" + +The others professed the intention of going to bed. + +"You know, don't you," Ned threw out as an inducement, "that some man +back in the nineties paid his way through college on number seven? +Made an average of three thousand a year." + +"What's that story?" Charlie asked. "I haven't heard it." + +Ned enlightened him. "It's nothing much," he said carelessly, "only +that some man--it may have been Jones or Smith--in the class of +ninety-something, used to go in to number seven regularly, two or +three times a week all through his four years here, and he made an +average of three thousand a year. Broke the bank twice." + +Charlie was wide-eyed with amazement. "Why," he began, "if he could do +that, I don't see why--" + +Ned laughed. "They have," he said. "Don't you run away with the idea +that number seven hasn't made a profit out of Davis or Jones or +whatever his name was. They advertise it all right. That story has +brought them in a great deal more than three thousand a year. But this +man had a system; a very simple one, and a very good one." + +"What was it?" Charlie asked. "Can you tell me?" + +"Certainly I can," Ned answered, smiling. "He had a cool head and he +knew when to stop. And there isn't one in three thousand that knows +when to stop, if they've got the bug." + +"I don't see," Charlie remarked loftily, "why anybody wouldn't know +when to stop." + +"Well, they don't, kid," Ned replied sharply. + +Charlie was silent for a while, digesting the information he had +acquired. Ned got up to go. + +"Will--will you take me, Ned?" Charlie asked hesitatingly. + +Ned looked him over scornfully. The idea did not appeal to him. "You +don't want to go, Ladue," he said pityingly. At the bottom of his +heart he did not wish to be responsible in the remotest degree for +Charlie's career. It did not need a seer to guess at Charlie's +weakness. "Number seven is no place for you and I'd advise you to keep +out of it. It's a regular game, there; a man's game. They'd skin you +alive without a quiver. They won't take any of your pieces of paper +and they won't give you back any ten dollars, either. I wouldn't +advise you to go there, kid." + +That "kid" settled it, if there was anything needed to settle what may +have been ordained from his birth. At any rate, it was ordained that +he should not overcome the inclination to that particular sin of his +father without a struggle, and if there was one special thing which +Charlie was not fitted to do it was to struggle in such a cause. He +flushed. + +"Only to look on," he pleaded. "It was just to look on that I wanted +to go. I didn't mean to play, of course." + +"No, of course not. They never do," Ned retorted cynically. Then he +considered briefly, looking at Charlie the while with a certain +disgust. Having given him advice which was certainly good, he had no +further responsibility in the matter. "All right," he said. "If you're +bound to go, I can get you by the nigger at the door, although he'd +probably let you in anyway. You're a very promising subject." + +So it happened that Patty waited in vain for Charlie. For a day she +thought only that he must have been delayed--he was--and that, +perhaps, he was staying in Cambridge to finish something in connection +with his studies. She did not get so far as to try to imagine what it +was, but she wondered and felt some resentment against the college +authorities for keeping such a good boy as Charlie. On the second day +she began to wonder if he could have gone to Mrs. Stump's to see his +mother. She gave that question mature consideration and decided that +he had. On the third day she was anxious about him and would have +liked to go to Mrs. Ladue or to Sally and find out, but she did not +like to do that. And on the morning of the next day Sally saved her +the trouble by coming to ask about him. + +Patty was too much frightened to remember her grievance against Sally. +"Why, Sally," she said in a voice that trembled and with her hand on +her heart, which had seemed to stop its beating for a moment, "I +thought he was with you." + +Sally shook her head. "We thought he must be here." + +"He hasn't been here," wailed poor Patty. "What can be keeping him? +Oh, do you suppose anything has happened to him?" + +Sally's lip curled almost imperceptibly and the look in her eyes was +hard. + +"I don't know, Patty, any more than you do." + +"But I don't know anything," Patty cried. Sally gave a little laugh in +spite of herself. "What shall we do? Oh, what shall we do, Sally?" + +Sally thought for an instant, and then she turned to Patty. "I will +take the noon train up." + +"Oh, Sally!" It was a cry of relief. "Couldn't you telegraph first? +And couldn't you ask Doctor Beatty to go, instead, or Doctor +Sanderson?" + +"I could ask Doctor Beatty to go, but I don't intend to," she said +finally, "and Fox is not here. His hospital isn't ready yet, you know. +They couldn't get him any more easily than I can. And as to +telegraphing, I don't think that would help." + +"Well," said Patty doubtfully, "I don't--do you think you ought to go +alone?" + +Sally turned and looked at her. "Why not?" + +Before the gray eyes Patty's eyes fell. "I--I don't know, exactly. But +it hardly seems quite--quite proper for a girl to go alone to--to a +college room." + +Sally chuckled. "I must risk it," she said. "I think I can. And if +Charlie is in any trouble I'll do my best to get him out of it." + +"Oh, Sally!" It was not a cry of relief. + +Sally paid no attention to that cry of Patty's. "I must go back to get +ready," she said. "I haven't any too much time." + +But Sally did not take the noon train up. Just as she was leaving Mrs. +Stump's, she met Charlie coming in. He looked rather seedy and quite +forlorn. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + + +When Charlie went back, he was feeling rather elated, for he had two +hundred and fifty dollars in his pocket. That was all the cash Patty +could raise without making an appeal to Dick Torrington or making some +other arrangement which would have betrayed her, and that would not +have done. It would not have done at all. Sally might have heard of +it, and Patty, to tell the truth, was afraid of Sally. Sally was +so--so decided, you know, and so downright, and she could be so hard +about anything that concerned Charlie. Sally was not fair to +Charlie--the dear boy! What if he was a little extravagant? All young +men must have their fling. So Patty, with but the vaguest ideas of +what the fling was,--she could think only of fireworks and yelling, +although three hundred dollars will buy a great deal of fireworks and +yelling is cheap,--Patty, I say, feeling very low in pocket and in +spirits, bade Charlie an affectionate farewell and returned to Miss +Miller's. She spent the afternoon in casting up her accounts and in +biting the end of her pencil; occupations from which she derived but +little satisfaction. She could not seem to make the accounts come out +right and the end of a pencil, even the best, becomes a little cloying +to the taste in time. + +Charlie's parting injunction had been really unnecessary. "Don't tell +Sally, will you, Patty?" he had said in a voice from which he tried in +vain to keep the note of exultation. There was little danger of that. +Patty was as anxious as Charlie was to keep all knowledge of the +transaction from Sally. And Patty sighed and cast up her accounts all +over again. There was no escape from it. She must look the matter in +the face. The absence of that two hundred and fifty would make a great +difference to her; it would leave her absolutely without ready money +for more than a month, or--or, perhaps,--and she stared out of the +window with unseeing eyes--she could manage to borrow--or ask Miss +Miller to trust her--or somebody--But that would not make up half and +everybody would know about it; and she sighed again and put down the +remains of the pencil with its chewed end and put the paper into her +waste-basket. She had given it up. She would trust to luck. She never +was any good at arithmetic anyway. + +What specious arguments Charlie had used to persuade her I do not +know. It does not matter and she probably did not give them much +attention. Charlie wanted the money. That was the point with her as it +was the point with him. What were arguments and explanations? Mere +words. But she noted that his watch was gone. Patty, herself, had +given it to him only the year before. She could not help asking about +that, in a somewhat hesitating and apologetic way. + +Charlie set her doubts at rest at once. "Oh, that?" he said +carelessly. "It needed cleaning and I left it." He gave the same +answer to Sally when she asked about it. + +"Huh!" was Sally's only answer, as she turned away. + +Charlie had not said anything in reply, although that monosyllable of +Sally's, which expressed much, had made him angry enough to say almost +anything, if only he knew what to say. He didn't; and the very fact +that he didn't made him angrier than ever. He stammered and stuttered +and finished by clearing his throat, at which performance Sally smiled +heartlessly. + +Charlie had been badly shaken and had not had time to recover. But +neither Sally nor Patty had an idea of what Charlie had been through. +It was just as well that they had not; just as well for Charlie's +comfort and for Patty's. Sally had more imagination than Patty had and +she had had more experience. She could picture to herself any number +of scrapes that Charlie might have got himself into and they did not +consist solely of fireworks and yelling. They were much nearer the +truth than that vague image of Patty's, and if Sally did not hit upon +the exact situation it is to be remembered that she did not know about +the money which Charlie had succeeded in extracting from Patty. + +But Sally's imaginings were bad enough. They were sufficient to +account for her heavy heart, although they were not necessary to +account for it. Sally usually had a heavy heart now, which was a great +pity and not necessary either. What had come over her? It troubled her +mother to see her so depressed. She may have attributed it to the +wrong cause or she may not. Mothers are very apt to be right about +such matters. Her anxious eyes followed Sally about. Finally she could +not refrain from speaking. + +"Sally, dear," she asked, "what is the matter?" + +Sally smiled a pitiful little smile. "Why, I don't know, mother. Is +anything the matter?" + +"Something must be. A girl like you doesn't get so low-spirited for +nothing. It has been going on for nearly a year now. What is it, +Sally? Can't you tell me, dear?" + +"I wish I could, mother. I wish I knew. If I knew, I would tell you. I +don't. I only know that nothing seems to be worth while and that I +can't care about anything. A pity, isn't it?" And Sally smiled again. + +"Sally, don't! If you smile like that again you will make me cry." + +"I won't make you cry, mother. It is no trouble for me to keep from +smiling." + +"Are you--aren't you well, Sally?" + +Sally stretched her arms above her head. She was getting to be rather +a magnificent woman. "I can't raise a single symptom," she said. "I'm +absolutely well, I think. You might get Doctor Beatty to prod me and +see if he can find anything wrong." + +"I would rather have Fox." + +Sally flushed very faintly. "Not Fox, mother. I didn't mean it, +really. I'm sure there is nothing the matter with my health. I could +give you a catalogue: appetite good--fairly good, I sleep well, I--I +can't think of anything else." + +"Mind?" her mother asked, smiling. + +"A blank," said Sally promptly, with a hint of her old brightness. "My +mind is an absolute blank. So there you are where you started." + +"Is it your teaching, dear? Are you too tired?" + +"Do I look as if I ought to be tired?" Sally returned scornfully. She +did not look so, certainly. She was taller than her mother and +long-limbed and lean, and she looked fit to run races or climb trees +or to do anything else that required suppleness and quickness and to +do it exceedingly well. "I ought to be ashamed of myself and I am, but +I feel as if I could murder those children and do it cheerfully; +without a single pang. It makes me wonder whether I am fitted to +teach, after all." + +"Oh, Sally!" + +Sally made no reply, but sat down on the bed and gazed out of the +window at nothing in particular. To be sure, she could not have seen +anything worth while: only the side of the next house, not fifty feet +away, and the window of a bedroom. She could have seen into the room, +if she had been at all curious, and have seen the chambermaid moving +about there. + +Mrs. Ladue looked at her daughter sitting there so apathetically. She +looked long and her eyes grew more anxious than ever. Sally did not +seem to be aware of the scrutiny. + +"Sally," she began hesitatingly. + +Sally turned her head. "Well?" + +"I have heard some rumors, Sally," Mrs. Ladue went on, hesitating more +than ever, "about--about Everett. I didn't believe there was any truth +in them and I have said so. I was right, wasn't I? There isn't +anything, is there?" + +"What sort of thing?" Sally did not seem to care. "What were the +rumors, mother?" + +"Why," said her mother, with a little laugh of embarrassment, "they +were most absurd; that Everett was paying you marked attention and +that you were encouraging him." + +"No, that is not so. I have not encouraged him." + +Her answer seemed to excite Mrs. Ladue. "Well, is it true that he +is--that he has been paying you attention for a long time?" + +"I have seen him more or less, but it is nothing that I have been +trying to conceal from you. What does it matter?" + +"It matters very much, dear; oh, very much." Mrs. Ladue was silent for +a moment. "Then I gather," she resumed in a low voice, "that you have +not discouraged his attentions?" + +"No," Sally replied listlessly, "I have not discouraged them. Assuming +that they are anything more than accident, I--what do I care? It makes +no difference to me." + +"Oh, Sally!" Tears came into Mrs. Ladue's eyes. "You must know better +than any one else whether he means anything or not; what his +intentions are." + +"He may not have any intentions," Sally answered. "I don't know what +he means--but that is not true; not strictly. I know what he says, but +not what he thinks. I don't believe there is anybody who knows what +Everett thinks." And she gave a little laugh which was almost worse +than one of her smiles. "His intentions, assuming that he has any, are +well enough." + +The situation seemed to be worse than Mrs. Ladue had imagined in her +most doubtful moments. "But, Sally," she said anxiously, "is +there--oh, I hate to ask you, but I must. Is there any kind of an +understanding between you and Everett?" + +"Not on my part, mother," Sally replied rather wearily. "Now let's +talk about something else." + +"Be patient with my questions just a little longer," said her mother +gently. "I can't drop the subject there. Has--do you think Everett has +any right to understand anything that you don't? Have you let him +understand anything?" + +Sally did not answer for what seemed to her mother a long time. "I +don't know," she answered at last, "what he thinks. To be perfectly +plain, Everett has not asked me to marry him, but he may feel sure +what my answer would be if he did decide to. I don't know. He is a +very sure kind of a person, and he has reason to be. That is the +extent of the understanding, as you call it." + +"But, surely, you know what your answer would be," remonstrated Mrs. +Ladue in a low voice. "It isn't right, Sally, to let him think one +thing when you mean to do the opposite. I hope," she added, struck by +a fresh doubt--a most uncomfortable doubt, "that you do mean to do the +opposite. There can be no question about that, can there?" + +"I don't know," Sally replied slowly, "what I should do. I've thought +about it and I don't know." + +Mrs. Ladue's hand went up to her heart involuntarily, and she made no +reply for some time. "Drifting?" she asked at last. + +Sally looked toward her mother and smiled. "Drifting, I suppose. It's +much the easiest." + +Mrs. Ladue's hand was still at her heart, which was beating somewhat +tumultuously. + +"Don't, Sally! Don't, I beg of you. Your whole life's happiness +depends upon it. Remember your father. Everett's principles are no +better than his, I feel sure. You have been so--so sturdy, Sally. +Don't spoil your life now. You will find your happiness." She was on +the verge of telling her, but she checked herself in time. That was +Fox's business. He might be right, after all. "This mood of yours will +pass, and then you would wear your life out in regrets. Say that you +won't do anything rash, Sally." + +"Don't worry, mother. It really doesn't matter, but I won't do +anything rash. There!" She laughed and kissed her mother. "I hope that +satisfies you. You were getting quite excited." + +Mrs. Ladue had been rather excited, as Sally said. Now she was crying +softly. + +"You don't know what this means to me, Sally, and I can't tell you. I +wish--oh, I wish that I had your chance! You may be sure that I +wouldn't throw it away. You may be sure I wouldn't." She wiped her +eyes and smiled up at Sally. "There! Now I am all right and very much +ashamed of myself. Run along out, dear girl. You don't get enough of +out-of-doors, Sally." + +So Sally went out. She meant to make the most of what was left of the +short winter afternoon. She hesitated for a moment at the foot of the +steps. "It's Fisherman's Cove," she said then quite cheerfully. "And I +don't care when it gets dark or anything." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + + +Fisherman's Cove was a long way from Mrs. Stump's boarding-house, but +that fact gave Sally no concern. And Fisherman's Cove was much changed +from the Cove that Uncle John used to tell her about, where he had +been used to go to see the men haul the seines. Its waters had been +fouled by the outpourings of a sewer, and the fish had deserted them +years before; but that would not make the ice any the less attractive +with a young moon shining upon it. + +And the way to Fisherman's Cove was not the way that Uncle John had +been in the habit of taking. His way, fifty years before, had led him +out upon a quiet country road until he came to a little lane that led +down, between high growths of bushes, to a little farmhouse. The +farmhouse had overlooked the Cove. Sally could not go through the +little lane to the little old farmhouse, because the farmhouse was not +there now, and because there was a horrible fence of new boards right +across the lane. They had been building mills on the shores of +Fisherman's Cove for thirty years; and the ice ponds on which the boys +and girls of thirty years before used to skate--Miss Patty had skated +there, often--were no longer ice ponds, but thriving mill villages, +with their long rows of brilliantly lighted windows and their neat +tenements, the later ones of three stories, each story having its neat +clothes-porch. If you don't know what a clothes-porch is, just go down +there and see for yourself. And these neat tenements of three stories +each sheltered I don't know how many families of Portuguese +mill-workers, who may have been neat, but who probably were not. +Thriving! Ugh! as Miss Patty invariably said, turning her head away. +She did not have to go that way often, but when she did have to she +preferred to shut her eyes until her horse had taken her past it all. + +Besides, Mrs. Stump's was not on Apple Tree Street, but in a much less +fashionable neighborhood; one which had been fashionable some seventy +or eighty years before. As fashion left that street and moved upon the +ridge, the fine old houses--for they were fine old houses, even +there--gradually fell in their estate. The way from Mrs. Stump's to +Fisherman's Cove did not lie by that thriving mill village which has +been mentioned, but by other thriving mill villages, with their +tenements which, being older, were presumably not so neat. There was +little to choose between the ways. Either was disagreeable enough, +especially at any time when the hands were in the street, and no girl +would have chosen such a time to walk upon that road. Even Sally would +have avoided it; but the mill-hands were now shut up in their mills +and working merrily or otherwise, and she did not give the matter a +thought. + +As she started upon her road, a man who had been leaning negligently +upon a post at the next corner, bestirred himself, unleaned, and came +toward her. Sally glanced up at him and stopped. "Oh, dear!" she said, +in a voice of comical dismay. "Oh, dear! And I promised mother that I +wouldn't do anything rash." + +The man continued to come toward her. He had a leisurely air of +certainty which ordinarily would have antagonized Sally at once. + +"Well, Sally?" he said questioningly, when he was near enough to be +heard without raising his voice. + +"Well, Everett," Sally returned, with some sharpness. "I should really +like to know what you were doing on that corner." + +"Doing?" he asked in surprise. "Why, nothing at all. I was only +waiting for you." + +"And why," she said, with more sharpness than before, "if you were +waiting for me, didn't you come to the house and wait there?" + +"I don't like to go to boarding-houses and wait," he replied, smiling. +"I have a prejudice against boarding-houses, although I have no doubt +that Mrs. Stump's is an excellent house. And my going there might +excite some comment." + +"Is it your idea," Sally retorted quickly, "that your waiting on the +next corner will not excite comment? There has been too much comment +already." + +"Well, Sally, what if there has been a certain amount of it? We don't +care, do we?" + +"I am not sure that we don't," she answered slowly, looking him in the +face thoughtfully. "I am not sure. In fact, I think we do." + +He flushed a little under her direct gaze. That subject was not to be +pursued. + +"Where are you going?" he asked. + +"I am going for a walk," she replied; "for a long walk. And I--" + +"Then you'd better ride," he said quickly, interrupting her. "I can +get Sawny in five minutes. Where will you be?" + +"No," Sally spoke earnestly. "Don't. I'd rather not. I prefer to walk. +And, Everett, I'd rather you wouldn't go with me. I want to take this +walk alone." + +Everett was surprised. It was rather a shock to find that he wasn't +wanted. + +"Oh," he said coldly. "Very well. I hope you will have a most pleasant +walk to--wherever you are going." + +Sally's heart was too tender. Everett seemed hurt, and she didn't like +to feel that she had hurt him. "I am going to Fisherman's Cove," she +said. + +"Fisherman's Cove! But you know that will take you through the heart +of milltown." + +"Yes, but the mills aren't out. I'll come back early." + +"It's not a way for a girl to choose." + +Sally smiled. "I'll be all right, I think." + +Everett shrugged his shoulders. "You'd much better let me drive you. +We can go to the Cove as well as elsewhere." + +Sally shook her head gently. + +"As you please," he said; and he shrugged again and turned away. + +Sally looked after him for a moment. "Oh, dear," she sighed. "Now I've +offended him--mortally, I suppose. But it doesn't matter. I was +forgetting. Nothing really matters." It didn't matter. It might be +better if she had offended him mortally if he would stay offended. + +So Sally put aside all thoughts of Everett and resumed her walk. She +had no great difficulty in putting aside thoughts of him. I do not +know what her thoughts were, as she walked on towards the Cove, but it +is safe to say that they were not of Everett. She must have been +thinking pretty deeply of something, for she took her way +unconsciously and without seeing where she was going; and she passed +the few people that she met without seeing them or being conscious +that they were there. Walking so, like one asleep, she came to the end +of that street, where it runs into River Street. + +River Street is a dirty street. Its best friends could not say more +for it. The reason is not far to seek; and a part of that reason is +that, for many years--say sixty years or even seventy--it has served +for a residence street for the same class of people. Residence street +is perhaps rather a high-sounding name for it. You may use any other +words that you like better, for River Street, from the point where +Sally entered it to within a half-dozen blocks of the centre of the +town, was, for long years, the one place where certain people lived. +It was so wholly given up to those people that it was known as Fayal; +and Fayal had a reputation which was not altogether savory. The +inhabitants of this local Fayal were, in the old days, sailors, and +sailors of the roughest sort; with crimps and sharks and women of +several kinds, and an occasional overlord. There were no mills to +speak of, twenty-five years ago, at this end of the town. When the +mills began to come, the inhabitants of Fayal--at least, some of +them--sent for their friends from the islands, and the friends, in +turn, sent for their families; the old sailor class, the rough men +with gold hoops in their ears, gradually died off and the reputation +of River Street improved. Like the street itself, it is not yet +altogether savory. + +At River Street, Sally began to find herself among the tenements, for +Fayal had lain in the other direction and the old River Street had +faded out, right here, into the remains of a country road which ended +at the beach, not half a mile beyond. There was no country road now, +and the less said about this particular part of the beach the better. + +Sally paused for an instant and looked about her. From this point on, +River Street was a continuous row of tenements, very neat and tidy +tenements, no doubt, at a distance. There was no gleam in that same +distance which betokened the Cove, only the neat and tidy tenements, +horribly neat and tidy. Sally felt a sinking of the heart or somewhere +about that region, although I believe it is not the heart that sinks. + +"Oh, dear!" she exclaimed, under her breath. "I had forgotten that it +was so forlorn. I will hurry through it. I wish I could shut my eyes, +as Patty does, but I suppose I shall need to see." + +So she hurried along, past the rows of tenements, past the few women +that she met and past the small children playing in the street. The +women paid no attention to her, being intent upon their own business +and having enough of it to keep them well occupied. She passed a mill, +with its throbbing of looms and its clattering and clicking of +spindles. The long rows of windows were just beginning to be lighted +as she passed. She went on, past more tenements, less closely set, and +past another mill. The windows of this second mill were already +lighted, and the same throbbing and clattering came faintly to her +ears. In front of this mill was a broad street, almost a square, and +beyond the street an open lot,--I had almost said a field, but it +lacked one essential to being a field,--evidently used by the +population, old and young, as a playground. This lot was surrounded by +the remains of an old stone wall, a relic of the better days, when it +had been a field. Now, there was no vestige of vegetation; no living +thing. A pig would have died of starvation in that lot. Both street +and lot were covered with frozen mud and dirty snow, and a film of +repulsive dirt, that would not wash off, coated the old stones of the +wall. The whole place filled Sally with disgust. If these mills had to +be somewhere, why must they put them here? Why must they? Weren't +there other places, without robbing-- + +Sally broke off. She had been almost talking aloud to herself in +fierce rebellion. Mills! Mills! Nothing but mills! They had taken up +every foot of the shore in Whitby except what was occupied by the +wharves. What were the people thinking of, that they suffered it? They +had seen foot after foot, mile after mile, of shore given to the +mills, and not a single feeble voice had been raised to prevent. They +had seen the mills stretch forth surreptitious, grasping hands and +take unto themselves pieces of their beautiful old shore road, a +quarter of a mile at a time. That road had been unequaled for beauty, +thirty years before. Sally had heard Patty speak of it often, mourning +its loss. She, herself, had seen great stretches of that shore taken +by the mills within the past ten years, and she had not known enough +to speak or even to care. The people were mill-mad--or sleeping. +Well--and Sally sighed--a haughty spirit before destruction; just +before it, she hoped. A thousand times rather the few hardened +sailor-men in their place than that horde everywhere. + +It is to be feared that Sally was getting excited; and it is to be +feared that she was not truly democratic. Well, she was not and she +never pretended to be. What of it? She never pretended to be what she +was not. And as she thought these thoughts, she came out from behind +the third mill and gave a little gasp of delight. There lay +Fisherman's Cove, its frozen surface saffron and blue and crimson; and +the clouds above golden and saffron and crimson, with lavender and +purple in the shadows. The sun had just gone down behind another mill +on the opposite shore. Sally stumbled on--she didn't dare take her +eyes off that--but she stumbled on, as fast as she could, past the few +scattered tenements which lay between her and the open road, and she +sat down on a great stone that was part of the old sea-wall. For at +this point the road ran close to the waters of the Cove, and the +beach, with its load of broken ice, was at her feet. And she sighed +again and sat there, watching, and a great peace fell upon her spirit +and she was content. + +Sally gazed, first at the sky and then at the ice of the Cove; and the +golden lights upon the clouds changed to saffron and the saffron to +crimson and the purple deepened. In the ice, the green which had +lingered in places changed to blue and the blue to indigo and the +saffron and crimson darkened and were gone. Ah! This was worth while. +Was anything else worth while? What did she care, sitting there, for +schools or mills or anything, indeed, but sitting there and gazing? +She half turned and looked out into the bay where sky and water meet. +She could not tell which was water and which was sky, for both had +become a dull slate-blue. She looked again at the Cove. The color had +gone, but there was a faint silvery light from a young moon which hung +above the mill on the opposite shore. And from the windows of the mill +shone other lights. These mills were rather picturesque at night and +at a distance; they were rather pretty--of a kind. Sally did not care +for that kind. The greater the distance, the more picturesque they +were. Sally laughed to herself at the thought. Her laugh was gay +enough and it would have done her mother's heart good to hear it. She +was content; so content that she took no heed of the time, but she sat +there until the young moon had sunk, in its turn, almost to the mill, +and she roused herself and found that she was cold, which was not +strange. And it was too late for a girl to be going past the mills; +which was not strange either. If she was going, she had better be +about it. So she got up from the great stone, took a last long look at +the fast-darkening sky, shivered and started back, at a good pace, +along the road. + +She passed the last mill and, as she came to the corner of the fence, +she heard the roar of many feet coming out. They burst through the +doorway and she heard them pattering on the frozen mud behind her. But +it was dark and she was well ahead. + +At the second mill, the one of the broad square and the open lot, she +saw the crowd of mill-hands pouring out of the gate as she approached. +The crowd swelled and overflowed the sidewalk and then the street and +poured over the wall into the lot, slowly, like some huge stream of +molasses. As Sally continued on her way, she met this human stream +coming toward her; but it divided before her and closed behind her, +letting her through slowly. They are a peaceable, law-abiding set, for +the most part, but the mill lays its heavy hand upon them. The older +ones among them went stolidly to their kennels; but a few of the +mill-girls looked after Sally and made quite audible remarks about her +and giggled and laughed and nudged the men. And the men--the young +men--looked back at her and thought--but I don't know what they +thought. I only know that two of them, of mixed race, turned and +followed on after her. + +Sally was not aware that she was being followed, but many of the +mill-girls were, and the giggling and the laughter grew, until Sally +turned to see the cause. Having seen, she did not change her pace, but +pursued her way steadily without again looking back or seeming to know +of her two followers. The crowd ahead, going north, and the crowd +behind her, going south, were well separated by this time, and there +was a wide space between them. In this space were only Sally and the +two men, now close behind her, and a few stragglers. In this way they +went on for some distance, while the crowd ahead gradually melted away +into the tenements on either side; and they were within a few blocks +of the corner where Sally would turn off of River Street. The street +was not well lighted and it was deserted. + +The men came up, one on either side of Sally, and one of them said +something to her, too vile to be recorded. Sally kept her eyes +straight ahead and she thought rapidly. She was not exactly +frightened, but she was thinking what she had better do. It would do +little good to scream. The outcome of such a course was doubtful and, +besides, Sally was not the kind of a girl who screams easily or at +all. She meditated fighting. She could have put up a good fight; but +there were two of the men and they would have been pleased with a +fight, two men against one girl. What else was there for her to do? +She could run, and she could run well; so well that there was an even +chance, perhaps, that she could run faster and last longer than those +mill-trained men. Eight or ten years of the mill do not help a man's +lungs much or his morals. The dust, you know,--it seems to get into +their morals as well as into their lungs. If only she didn't have +skirts to bother her; but her skirt was neither tight nor very long. + +The man repeated his vile speech; and Sally darted away, gathering her +skirts as she ran. + +The men had been taken by surprise, but they put out after her as fast +as they could, laughing. This was sport; and although laughter is not +recommended for runners, they managed to gain a little at first. After +that first burst, they ceased to gain, but they held their own, and +the chase sped merrily along River Street, a scant five yards +separating the hunters from their quarry. Sally reached her corner and +turned off of River Street, passing under the light of a street lamp +as she made the turn. Coming down that street was a man. Sally did not +see very well, for he was not in the full light and, besides, her eyes +were full of tears because of her running. But the man gave a start +and an exclamation and he began to run and he ran into those men like +a locomotive, and he swung at one of them and hit him and knocked him +into the middle of the street, so that he landed on the back of his +neck in the roadway and lay limp and still. The other would have run +away, but the man caught him around the neck with his left hand and +cast him as far as his fellow, rolling over and over. + +"Damn you!" he cried low. "No, you don't. Damn you!" + +Doubtless he was forgiven that cry, even as Sally forgave it. She had +stopped and was leaning against a fence. When she saw the men go into +the street, one after the other, she gave a quick chuckle of delight. +She may have been a little hysterical. It would not have been strange. + +The second man who had been so summarily cast into the road was rising +slowly, muttering and half sobbing. The first man continued to lie +limp and still, and the man who had cast him there advanced slowly +toward him; upon which that other ceased beating the dust from his +clothes and edged away, muttering more loudly threats and +vituperations. The man continued to advance, but he raised his head +into the full light from the street lamp and he laughed shortly. + +"You'd better be off," he said. "Get out, and hurry about it." + +Sally saw his face well enough in the dim light and she knew the +voice. She had not really needed to recognize either, for she knew +well enough, in her heart, who it was that had come to her aid in the +nick of time. She chuckled again with delight, then drew a shivering +breath and gave a sob. There was no doubt about it, Sally was +hysterical. She knew that she was and she stifled the sob in her +throat. She despised hysterics. And she laughed a little because she +couldn't help it, and she went to him. + +He was kneeling in the road and he had the man's head upon one knee +and was feeling him gently. He raised his head as she came near. + +"I can't tell whether I have hurt him or not. It's awkward. We can't +leave him lying here in the street, although he deserves no better +treatment. I wish I had a horse here. You don't happen to know of one, +do you, Sally?" + +"N--no," she answered slowly, "not near here. I suppose I could get +Sawny, if you would wait." + +Fox laughed. "I don't want to ask Everett for Sawny." + +"Neither do I." The sound of a horse's hoofs came to them faintly. +"There's one now. I'll run to the corner and stop him." And, before +Fox could make any reply, she was off, running. + +The sound of the horse's hoofs stopped and presently came on, down the +street. + +"Hello!" cried a voice. "Is that Doctor Sanderson? What can I do?" + +"It's Eugene Spencer, Fox," remarked Sally, getting out. "Wasn't that +luck?" + +"Yes," said Jane, "wasn't it? Shall I take Sally home?" + +Fox and Sally both preferred that he should take the man. + +"I hate to ask you to take him out to my hospital," said Fox +apologetically, "but I don't know of anything better. I'll telephone +them before you can get there, and I'll be out within an hour. I don't +think he's seriously hurt." + +So they bundled the man in, and Jane drove off, rather crestfallen. +For his part, he thought that he ought to take Sally home first, at +least. The man still lurking in the shadows hurled vile epithets and +obscenities and ran after Jane. + +Fox laughed a little, nervously. "Hope he has a pleasant chase. He'll +hardly catch Spencer." Eugene was already at the corner. "My first +patient, Sally, although the Retreat is not open yet. This man is not +the kind of patient I shall hope to have, but it seemed better to send +him there and avoid publicity. We can take good care of him. Hello!" + +There was some kind of an uproar just around the corner. It lasted +only a moment and then Eugene came driving back, alone. + +"That man of yours," he said, pulling up short, "recovered very +suddenly, rolled out, and the pair of them ran down the street like +scared rabbits. I didn't chase them, for I thought that you would +probably be glad enough to get rid of him." + +"I am," Fox replied, with evident relief. "He can't be much hurt. I'm +much obliged to you, Spencer." + +"Shan't I take Sally home? Or there's room for both of you, if you +don't mind a little crowding." + +"We will walk home, thank you, Jane," said Sally, with the finality he +had come to expect. "I haven't seen Fox for a long time and I have a +lot to say to him." + +So Eugene, muttering something under his breath, made a very short +turn, in which process he very nearly tipped over, and gave his horse +a cut with the whip. The animal, which was not expecting this and did +not deserve it, gave a bound and they were gone. + +Sally chuckled. "Display of temper on Mr. Spencer's part," Fox +observed, "wholly uncalled for. Bad for the horse, too. I judge that +he is not the equal of Everett as a horse trainer." + +Sally's chuckling broke out afresh. "No, he's not, I'm afraid. Those +displays of temper are not unusual. Now, Fox, come along." + +Fox was a little surprised--just a little--to feel Sally's hand within +his arm, but he did know better than to show his surprise, if there +were some things that he didn't know. If he had only known, +he--well--but Sally was speaking to him. + +"Now, Fox," she was saying, "how in the world did you happen to turn +up just at that moment? You were in the nick of time." + +"Oh, I don't know about that. You would probably have left them. They +were about all in, both of them. But I didn't happen to turn up. It +wasn't any accident. I was looking for you." + +Unconsciously, Sally tightened her hold upon his arm. "Oh," she +murmured, "that was nice!" + +"I only got here this afternoon," Fox continued, paying no obvious +attention to her murmured remark, "and I went right to Mrs. Stump's. I +found your mother a little upset and rather anxious, but I didn't +succeed in finding out what it was about." He did not say--perhaps he +did not know--how upset Mrs. Ladue had been. She had been torn by +conflicting emotions, and she showed evidences of it. But there had +been never a moment's hesitation about the course she would pursue. +Only she had raised troubled, tearful eyes to Fox, and had said--but +what Mrs. Ladue had said forms no part of this chronicle. Whatever she +said, she did not tell him clearly of the rumors connecting Everett's +name with Sally's. He would hear those rumors soon enough, if there +was anything in them; if there was not, for that matter. + +Sally had been thinking. "I am afraid," she said softly, "that it was +about me. I hoped she was all over it when I left." + +Fox turned his head and looked at her, but he did not reply to her +remark directly. "She said that you had gone for a walk, but she +didn't know where. I waited a long time, thinking you might come in. +Your mother and I had a long talk." + +Sally would have given a good deal to know what the long talk was +about. "It--it isn't true, Fox," she began slowly. + +"What! It is true, too. We talked for an hour and forty minutes, while +I was waiting. I know." + +Sally laughed nervously. "I--I meant that anything you may hear about +me isn't true." + +"Clear as mud, Sally. Well, I'll remember. Anything that I hear about +you isn't true. But I'm not likely to hear the voice of rumor +especially if it's about you." + +Sally made no reply to this, and Fox went on. "When it began to grow +dark, I made some inquiries, and I found a certain person who had seen +you go out; and you had met a man at the next corner--Who was the man, +Sally?" + +"Everett," Sally replied briefly; and she started to say more, but +thought better of it--or worse, as you like--and shut her lips tight +together. + +"Oh, yes, she said she thought it was Everett. I thought that, +perhaps, she was mistaken." + +"No," said Sally, "she was not mistaken." + +"Hum!" said Fox, smiling to himself; but Sally could not see that. +"And this exceedingly well-informed person said that you and Everett +evidently had a spat on the street corner, and that he went off, mad." + +"Yes," said Sally, nodding. She might have known that Fox couldn't see +the nod. + +"Too bad!" said Fox. "Exemplary young man--especially one who has seen +the world and who has as perfect manners as Everett wishes it to be +thought that he has--shouldn't go off mad. Very young. It reminds one +of your young friend, Spencer. We should expect him to go off mad, +shouldn't we, Sally?" + +Sally chuckled again. "We should." + +"Well," Fox resumed, "finding that you had been last seen hiking down +the street without male escort, Everett having got mad and declined to +play and gone home,--it is to be hoped that he had gone home,--I put +out after you, lippety-clippety. All the male inhabitants of Whitby +seem to think that is their chief end in life." + +"Oh, Fox," said Sally faintly, "they don't." + +"They do," Fox insisted; "all except Dick." He laughed. "Speaking of +Dick reminds me that I have something to tell you if you don't let me +forget it. Well, loping along that way, I came to the historic +corner--of what street?" + +"River Street. How did you happen to come that way?" + +"Followed my nose. You had gone along this street. So did I. You came +to the corner. So did I, and I nearly ran into you." + +She shivered a little. Fox felt it, and held his arm closer to him. + +"Are you cold, Sally?" + +"No." She spoke low. "But I'm glad you came, Fox. I'm very glad." + +"So am I, for several reasons not to be catalogued at present." They +had almost reached Mrs. Stump's. "Oh, I was going to tell you +something in connection with Dick. Henrietta's engaged. She wanted me +to tell you. So, it is to be presumed, is Dick." + +"I'm very glad, but I'm not surprised. I don't suppose Henrietta +expected me to be." + +"She didn't mention it, so you don't have to be." + +"I'll write to her to-night. So that accounts for Dick's mysterious +disappearances." + +"He's been visiting us at your old place, Sally. He was so much +interested in seeing your favorite trees and in hearing about you, +that Henrietta felt rather jealous." + +Sally laughed derisively. They were standing at the foot of Mrs. +Stump's fine granite steps. Fox was silent for a moment, looking at +Sally. + +"I know," he said at last thoughtfully, "I know where there are some +gynesaurus trees near Whitby." + +Sally's face lighted up. "Could a person climb them, Fox?" + +"A person about twenty-two years old?" asked Fox. "I should think she +might if she is able." + +"She is able," she returned, nodding emphatically. "Will you tell me +where they are?" + +"Some day," Fox answered, not looking at her, "I will show them to +you." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + + +Sally was in rather better spirits for some time after that walk to +Fisherman's Cove, although there is some doubt whether the improvement +was due to her brief sight of the Cove under a winter sun and moon or +to realization of the fact that a great number of people were worse +off than she or to her break with Everett or to seeing Fox again. But +her break with Everett was of only a temporary nature, a fact which he +made very evident to her, at least, and, incidentally, to Miss Miller +and to Miss Lambkin and to Mrs. Upjohn and to many others; and, as for +seeing Fox, she had been enjoying that privilege for twelve years, +from time to time. To be sure, it had occasionally been a long while +from time to time, but that had not seemed to trouble Sally. So, +altogether, we are forced to abandon the inquiry as fruitless. Sally, +if we had asked her, would have smiled and would have answered quite +truly that she didn't know and she didn't care. It was the fact which +was most important; the fact was, indeed, of the only importance, +except to persons like Miss Letty Lambkin, who are never satisfied +with the simple facts of life, but must dig down until they find +certain diseased roots, which they fondly believe, without further +tracing, to be the roots of those facts, but which, more often than +not, do not belong to them at all, but to some other tree. + +Fox's hospital had had an opening, to which the inhabitants of Whitby +were invited. Whitby, in a way, was as exclusive as Philadelphia, and +Fox's cards of invitation were addressed only to those fortunate +persons living in a certain restricted area. That area was bounded, on +the east, by the Cow Path, although a few cards found their way down +the hill as far as Mrs. Stump's and Miss Miller's. Consequently, +Patty went and so did Mrs. Ladue and Sally. It might have been a +reception, for they found there nearly the whole of the elite of +Whitby and no one else, and the whole of the hospital staff were +engaged in showing small parties of the aforesaid elite over the +hospital and the farm connected with it. The hospital staff had no +other engagements, there being no patients yet. Patty was delighted +with it--and with the staff--and expressed her intention of coming out +to board as soon as the spring opened. And Fox, to whom this speech +was addressed--it was delivered in rather a coquettish manner, all +Miss Patty's own--smiled and bowed and made no reply. Perhaps no reply +was expected. Fox had heard many such remarks. He would have his +patients from among the makers of them. + +As soon as he could, Fox took Mrs. Ladue and Sally out over the farm. +Patty was deep in conversation with Doctor Beatty. So he missed her, +to his great regret, he said. But, never mind. She'll have a chance to +see it. And thereupon he smiled enigmatically, and proceeded to show +them what had been done. He was proud of it. When he had shown them +all of it, he waved his hand toward the old cream-colored square +house. + +"My residence," he said. "I am afraid that it will have to remain shut +up as it is, for the present. Henrietta's change of plan--or, I +shouldn't say that, perhaps--her engagement knocks my scheme of things +in the head. She is to be married in June, you know." + +"But, Fox," Mrs. Ladue exclaimed, "surely, you don't mean that you +won't open the house at all!" She was sorry for him. Why did he have +to miss the satisfaction of living in his own house? Such a house, +too! + +He nodded. "I don't see any prospect of it," he answered, rather +gloomily for him; "at least," he added, with a short laugh, "until I +am married. There is really no reason for it, you know. There is +likely to be room enough at this end of the establishment for some +time." + +It was Margaret Savage he referred to, Sally supposed. At least, +Henrietta, she remembered, had said--had intimated it. Suddenly, she +hated the old house. + +"It's a shame," Mrs. Ladue said softly. "It's a perfect shame, Fox. +If--if you want to live in it, there's no reason--" + +Fox shook his head. "It wouldn't be best or wise, dear Mrs. Ladue," he +said gently. "I can wait." + +"Aren't you going to show it to us?" asked Mrs. Ladue then, with +heightened color. "We should like to see the inside, shouldn't we, +Sally?" + +But Sally did not have a chance to reply. "Not to-day," said Fox. +"Sometime, soon, I hope, but not to-day." + +He said no more and Mrs. Ladue said nothing and Sally said nothing; +and they went in again, by unanimous consent, and presently Mrs. Ladue +and Sally and Patty drove away, although so early a departure was much +against Patty's inclination. They would not have succeeded in getting +her to go at all but that Fox took Doctor Beatty off to show him +something, and Doctor Beatty thanked him, although he did not make it +clear whether it was for wanting to show him the something or for +taking him away. But Meriwether Beatty had shown a capacity for +leaving Patty when he felt like it, so that I am forced to conclude +that that had nothing to do with his thanks. When they got back to +Mrs. Stump's they found a letter from Charlie waiting for them on the +hall table. I may add that Patty found a letter from Charlie, also, +but it was not like the one to his mother and Sally. It differed from +theirs in several important particulars. + +Charlie wrote a letter home every week, with unfailing regularity. It +was a perfunctory letter, filled with the unimportant happenings at +college. It never gave any information about himself except on those +rare occasions when he had something favorable to report, and it did +not need to be anything exceptionally favorable either. + +He wrote to Patty irregularly, sometimes more often sometimes less, +depending upon his needs. Once, when he had been having an unusually +good run of luck, he let nearly three weeks elapse between letters, +and then his next letter was almost seven pages long and contained no +reference to money. Patty had been awaiting a letter nervously and +opened this one with fear and trembling. The combination, after such +an interval, transported Patty with delight, and she ran over at once +to show the letter to Mrs. Ladue. It was the only one that she did +show to Mrs. Ladue, for all the others either were evidently dictated +by a necessity more or less dire, or they referred to previous "loans" +of which Mrs. Ladue and Sally knew nothing. Patty always managed to +supply his needs, although sometimes with extreme difficulty and with +a great casting up of accounts, in which process many perfectly good +pencils were consumed in a manner for which they were not intended. If +the makers of pencils had designed them for such use, they would have +made them with lolly-pops or chewing-gum on one end. + +Charlie's letters to Patty were triumphs of art, and would have made +his scholastic fortune if they could have been presented as daily +themes. If they were not always free from error, they were always +readable and the matter was treated in a way which unfailingly would +have been of interest to any one but Patty, and they showed evidence +of a lively and well-nourished imagination which was not allowed to +become atrophied. "William Henry's Letters to his Grandmother," +although of a somewhat different nature, were not a patch upon them. + +But Patty was too much concerned about the matter treated in these +letters to be interested in their literary value; and, besides, she +was not in a position to know the extent of the exercise to which +Charlie's imagination was subjected in the course of composition. Her +own imagination was not without exercise, for she had to finance his +requests. + +Patty's financing, that winter, would have done credit to a promoter. +She had already succeeded in getting herself involved deeply with the +builder who was repairing her house and with Dick, although Dick was +as yet in blissful ignorance of the fact. The builder had been paid +but very little since Christmas; but he, being an elderly man who had +known her father well, and who, accordingly, trusted any member of the +family implicitly, had said nothing yet. Patty wondered, with some +fear and trembling, how much longer he would go on without saying +anything. And then she put the whole matter aside. She could not see +her way out yet. + +It was not that she considered the repairs upon her house, which +amounted almost to rebuilding, as properly any business of Dick's. +But, unaccountably and inscrutably to Patty, if not to her friends and +acquaintances, her father had given Richard Torrington great +discretion, under his will. The Richard aforesaid was even empowered +to keep the management of all Patty's property and to give her no more +than a stated allowance, if he saw good reason to do so. Mr. Hazen had +made him virtually a trustee, perhaps actually; but, so far, he seemed +to regard himself as no more than the channel through which Patty's +money must necessarily flow and he honored all her requests, asking +only that she tell him the general purpose to which the money was to +be applied. + +In consequence of this situation, there had been certain checks signed +by Richard Torrington, Executor, designed to be applied to payments +upon the house. Several of these checks had been hypothecated by Patty +and diverted to other uses. Possibly Charlie Ladue could have given +some information as to those uses. Certainly Patty could not. She knew +nothing at all of the ultimate purposes to which her money was put. +For that matter, Charlie's knowledge went only one step farther. He +was nothing but a channel through which Patty's money necessarily +flowed. A good, generous sewer-pipe would have served as well, for all +the good that the money did him; and the process was rapidly +undermining Patty's morals. + +It was a great pity that Patty had chosen this method of supply. As +long as she was bound to keep Charlie supplied with whatever he asked +for, or as nearly as she could come to that, it would have been much +better to ask Dick to double her allowance for her personal use. He +might have wondered at such a request, but he would have done it +without question, and thereby Patty's self-respect would have been +saved without producing any effect upon Charlie's in either way. One +wonders whether Charlie had any shreds of self-respect left, anyway. + +So it is difficult to say whether Patty looked forward with greater +joy than dread to Charlie's coming home for the Easter recess. For +some weeks he had kept her stirred up by his requests, but these +requests were for relatively small sums, ten dollars or twenty-five, +and once he asked for fifty. But for ten days before his vacation, he +had asked her for nothing, and her fears were forgotten. + +When, at last, the Easter recess began, Charlie appeared promptly on +the afternoon when he should have appeared and he looked neither +forlorn nor seedy. To a careful eye, a loving eye, watching him for +some days, he might have seemed to be possessed of an anxiety which he +took pains to conceal; but it was an elusive thing and, if he chose to +deny its existence, how was one to prove it? + +Sally thought that she detected something, she could not tell just +what, and she asked her mother, casually, whether she had noticed +anything. + +Mrs. Ladue looked up quickly. "I can't tell, Sally," she replied. "I +thought I did, and I spoke to Charlie about it, but he assured me that +there was nothing wrong and that it must be all my imagination. I +couldn't press the question. To tell the truth, I was afraid to. He +seems to have no disposition to confide in me and to have a low +opinion of my judgment, but I shouldn't like to have him say so. +If--if you could speak to him--" + +"Very well," said Sally, sighing wearily, "I will, although I have no +hope of accomplishing anything by it--except arousing his suspicion," +she added with a short laugh, "if there is anything which worries him +and which he is unwilling to tell. We are not in Charlie's +confidence." + +"We have not been--_I_ have not been in his confidence for eleven +years--since I was taken sick." Mrs. Ladue sighed in her turn. "He +seems like a stranger. I haven't been able to get near him. But he +seems to be rather afraid of your judgment, Sally." + +"That's not a great help," Sally remarked with another short laugh, +"in getting near him, is it? But I'll try." + +Accordingly Sally asked him whether--she was careful to put the +question in as natural a form as possible and she tried to make it +seem casual, too--she asked him whether there was anything he would +like to have them do for him. It is not likely that she succeeded +thoroughly in either of these attempts, for Charlie only looked +startled and answered that he didn't think there was anything. And he +added that he was a little anxious about his reports. If they were not +as good as they might be, he hoped that mother would not be too much +disappointed. And Sally had shrugged a little and smiled a little and +shown a little of the contempt which she always felt for lying. She +did not know that Charlie was lying, but she felt that he was, and she +could not have helped that little smile of contempt to save her life. +But Charlie did not recognize her smile as one of contempt. He went +off to see Patty, smiling and patting himself on the back for having +thrown Sally off the scent so cleverly. + +It is not to be supposed that either Mrs. Ladue or Sally was so +lacking in natural affection that she let Charlie go on the way he was +going without a struggle--without several struggles. Not that they +knew just the way he was going, but they knew very well that they had +lost all their control over him; the control which is due to a mutual +love. It was Charlie who had shown a lack of natural affection. His +mother had struggled in vain against that lack and against the effect +of Patty's indulgence. As for Sally, if the love and regard of ten or +twelve years before, a love very like a mother's, had been changed +insensibly into the tolerant contempt of the strong for the weak--not +always perfectly tolerant, I am afraid--Charlie had only himself to +blame. But, as for blaming himself--pfooh! Much he cared! + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + + +Charlie stood by the mantel in Patty's room, in such an attitude as he +imagined that Everett might take, under similar circumstances, and he +was trying to look troubled. It was an imitation mantel by which he +stood, being no more than a marble slab set upon iron brackets; for +the real mantel, of wood, which had surrounded a real fireplace of +generous proportions, had been removed when the fireplace had been +bricked up and a register inserted. That register, of the regulation +black, now stared at Miss Patty as she sat facing Charlie, and it +emitted a thin column of faintly warm air. Altogether, it was a poor +substitute for a fire and a gloomy thing to contemplate. Charlie's +attitude, too, as has been intimated, was but an imitation. His +trouble was no imitation, though, and his attempt to look troubled +succeeded beyond his fondest hopes. + +Patty had been looking at him for some time, growing more anxious +every minute. Charlie had said nothing at all, but had kept his eyes +fixed upon the distance; upon such distance as he could get through +Patty's window. That was not so very much, the distance being limited +by the house across the street, perhaps sixty feet away. At intervals +he sighed heavily, the time between sighs apparently--to Patty, at +least, his only hearer--apparently occupied by equally heavy thinking. + +At last Patty could stand it no longer. "What is it, Charlie, dear?" +she asked in a voice which trembled a little. "What is the matter, +dear boy?" + +Charlie forced a smile, his frown disappeared for an instant, and he +brought his gaze back, with a great effort, a superhuman effort, to +things near at hand: eventually to Patty herself. + +"Oh, nothing," he said gently. "Nothing at all." And he resumed his +gazing at the front of that house, sixty feet away, and his frowning +and his sighing and his heavy thinking. + +Patty was silent for some minutes. "Won't you tell me?" she asked +then. "I am sure there must be something which troubles you. You know +you can count on my sympathy." + +Charlie went through the same process as before. It took time. "What +did you say?" he said absently, when his look had, at last, come down +to Patty. "Sympathy? I'm afraid that won't do me much good." He +smiled; a smile that was meant to be pitiful. "But, no. There's +nothing the matter. Nothing at all, I assure you. It's all my own +fault anyway; my misfortune, rather," he added, so low that Patty +barely heard, and she thought that the words were not meant for her +ears. That was exactly in accordance with Charlie's intention. + +"Charlie!" she cried. "Charlie! You've got to tell me. I heard those +last words which you didn't mean me to hear. Now, you've got to tell +me." Her voice trembled more than ever. + +Charlie could not seem to resist this plea. He looked at her +pityingly, and he drew a long breath. + +"Well, Pat," he said--Pat was his pet name for her, used only under +stress--"well, Pat, if you must have it, then here goes. I'm only out, +for this vacation, on bail. I've got to--" + +"Wh-what?" asked Patty faintly. Her heart was playing mad pranks and +she put up her hand to steady it. At least, that seemed to be her +idea. "What was that you said, Charlie? Oh, Charlie, dear!" + +"Bail" and "jail" sound very much alike. They conveyed about the same +idea to poor Patty. Under certain circumstances, they convey about the +same idea to the one most intimately concerned. + +Charlie did not appear to be affected. "I've got to show up day after +to-morrow or forfeit my bail," he continued unfeelingly. "Well," he +said doggedly, "I will. I may have to go to jail, but what of it?" + +"Oh, Charlie, dear!" Patty cried, more faintly than before. "Oh, +Charlie, dear! Whatever have you done that you should talk of going +to--to--Charlie, I feel faint. My salts, dear," she said hurriedly. +"They are on the top of my bureau, in that green bottle." + +"Charlie dear" obediently got the little green bottle, stifling a +smile which would curl the corners of his mouth, in spite of himself, +while his back was turned to Patty. When he came back to her he looked +properly concerned; but Patty's eyes were closed. He removed the +stopper and held the bottle close under her nose, to revive her, which +happy event occurred with a suddenness that was a surprise to Patty, +at least. She gasped and gave a little choking cry. + +"Oh, Charlie! Not so cl-close." + +"All right now, Pat?" he asked with a cheerfulness that was evidently +assumed. He removed the bottle and put in the stopper. + +"I--I think so," she replied, still faintly. "Now--go--on, Charlie. +Tell me. I think I can bear it. I'll try to." + +"Why," said Charlie, "there's nothing to tell. I got bail so that I +could come home for my Easter vacation. Time's up day after to-morrow, +and I've got to show up or forfeit my bail." + +"Who is the--the bailer?" Patty inquired as if it were her last +breath. + +"One of the other men," Charlie returned glibly. "He isn't really rich +either, so he couldn't very well afford to have me jump it." + +"Jump it?" Patty repeated. She was getting pretty well dazed. + +"Yes," said Charlie impatiently. "Haven't you ever heard that +expression? It's the legal expression for failing to show up and +forfeiting your bail. If I should jump it, that other man would have +to pay the amount of my bail." + +"Ho-how much is it?" Patty asked in a trembling voice. + +Charlie made a rapid mental calculation. "One thousand dollars," he +said. + +"One thousand dollars!" repeated poor Patty slowly. "One thou--but, +Charlie," for a gleam of light had come to her,--"but, Charlie, what +is it for? What ha-have you done? Oh, it is too terrible!" + +"I haven't done much of anything, really," Charlie protested; "nothing +worth mentioning if we hadn't had an accident." + +"An accident!" Patty murmured. + +"Yes, an accident. You see there were four of us that thought it would +be fun--and no harm, Pat, really, if things hadn't gone wrong--to take +a little run in a motor--an automobile. Fostrow has a car of his own +at home, and he was to drive. In fact, he did." Charlie chuckled, as +though at the recollection. "He did until he had got us arrested twice +for speeding. But that was a small matter, only twenty-five dollars a +time. Fostrow paid that himself. He said it was worth double the money +to see those country-men get out of the way. And we ran over a dog. It +turned out to be a very valuable dog. All that is in the day's work, +though. We--" + +"Oh, Charlie," Patty interrupted, "I _knew_ you would get into trouble +if you went in those _horrible_ machines, at any rate, without a +_competent_ and _reliable_ driver. I have always thought that Edward +would be the driver I should choose; so steady and--" + +"Edward!" Charlie exclaimed. He had been about to add something +further, in the way of comment, but he thought better of it. "No +doubt, Edward would be very steady, but he is too old, to my way of +thinking. Well, we had gone about fifty miles and began to think it +was time to go back. So we filled up our gasoline tank, got something +to eat, and started back. It was dark by that time. We were rather +hurrying over the country roads, when something went wrong with the +steering-gear and the next thing I knew I was lying on the other side +of a stone wall--" + +"O-oh!" shuddered Patty. + +"--And the machine was completely smashed--crumpled up--with a +telephone pole on top of it. Then the gasoline caught fire and the +whole thing burned up, pole and all. The other men were more or less +hurt, but I hadn't a scratch, only some bruises. Fostrow's in a +hospital out there, now, with two ribs broken. The owner of the +machine got after us. It was a new machine and a beauty; cost five +thousand, he said. So that explains the bail." + +"Oh, Charlie!" breathed Patty. "What a mercy you escaped!" + +Charlie smiled complacently. He had really done pretty well. That +story, he thought, would be a credit to anybody. + +"But, Charlie," Patty continued, after a short silence, "why don't you +tell Sally the whole story. She'd find some way to get you out of it. +She--she is really very good at managing affairs." + +Charlie shivered involuntarily. Sally was very good at managing +affairs. He could see her pitying smile as she listened in silence to +his string of plausible lies and the look from the gray eyes would be +boring straight down into his soul as he talked, and he would be +afraid. And his speech would grow more halting, and he would finish in +some confusion and Sally would turn away with a quiet "Humph!" or she +would say nothing at all, which would be almost worse. And she would +not tell him what she was going to do, but she would go and do it, and +it--whatever it was--would be most effective, and that was exactly +what Charlie did not want. He shivered again as he thought of it. +Sally managed affairs too well; that was the trouble. No, distinctly +no; he did not want Sally to have any hand in this affair. He thought +that he could manage it very well himself. It was going beautifully, +so far. + +"No, Pat," he said gently. "I prefer not to tell Sally. I--to tell the +truth, Sally and mother don't seem very glad to see me. I think they'd +rather I stayed away." + +"Oh, you poor boy!" Patty's eyes shone with pity. "You dear boy! +_I'm_ glad to see you, anyway, Charlie, dear. You have one friend who +won't desert you." + +"Thank you, Pat. I thought I could depend on you." + +"I'll undertake the management of this affair." Patty spoke with +pride. A faint smile began to curl the corners of Charlie's mouth. He +suppressed it. Patty was deep in thought; or she flattered herself +that she was. + +She might as well have undertaken to add a cubit to her stature by +taking thought. She was silent for some minutes, looking more worried +with every minute that passed. At last she looked up. + +"Oh, dear!" she said, sighing, "I can't think of anything. It wouldn't +do any good for you to go away, would it?" + +Charlie shook his head and looked very solemn. "No. That would mean +giving up my college course and jumping my bail. I should become a +fugitive from justice." That sounded rather impressive and Charlie +repeated it, as impressively as he could. "A fugitive from justice." + +"Charlie, don't!" cried Patty wildly. "It sounds as if you were a +criminal." Charlie made no reply. "What would you suggest?" + +"Nothing," he answered with resignation. "There is nothing to be done +but for me to surrender myself to my bondsmen--" That sounded +impressive, too. "Surrender myself to my bondsmen," he repeated, "and +to the justice of the court." + +"Oh, Charlie!" Patty wailed faintly. "Oh, Charlie, dear, isn't there +some other way?" + +He shook his head again. "No other way that I can see. No other way +that wouldn't call for more money than I can possibly raise. For I +won't ask you for it, Pat. I simply _won't_." + +Patty was lying back in her chair. She seemed to feel faint again, and +Charlie hurried to her, the little green bottle once more in his hand. +She waved it aside. + +"H-how much," she asked, "must you have, Charlie?" + +"Never mind that, Pat. That's settled. It's much more than I should +be willing to ask you to lend me, or to accept from you. I'll just +surrender myself. It will soon be over." He spoke as cheerfully as +though he were going to execution. + +Patty looked at him. She thought that she had never seen any one so +brave. + +"Tell me. How much must you have?" + +"I suppose that eight or nine hundred would settle it, since you +insist." He swept it all aside with a wave of his hand. "But dismiss +the matter from your mind. We'll consider it settled." + +"We won't. It isn't settled." Poor Patty was having a last struggle +with her conscience. It was really a hard struggle and it took some +time. At last she drew a long shuddering breath. "Look in my top +bureau drawer, Charlie," she said, raising haggard eyes to his, "in +the front. There's a check there somewhere. It's for seven hundred and +fifty dollars." + +Charlie protested. Nevertheless, he moved with alacrity and rummaged +until he found the check. It was signed by Richard Torrington, +Executor. He presented it to Patty, folded, as he had found it. + +"Is this it, Pat? It is folded, you see, so that it is impossible to +know whether it is the one you wanted or not." + +"And to think that you wouldn't look, Charlie! But I might have known +it. I don't know what Richard would say," she murmured. "And I don't +know what the carpenters will do--the builders. But never mind. It is +my own money, anyway, and I'll do what I like with it. Charlie," she +said louder, "you must take this. Perhaps I can raise fifty dollars +more to-morrow morning. Do I have to write my name on the back?" + +Charlie protested again, but his protests were fainter than they had +been. He must not overdo it. + +Patty had risen from her chair and had gone to her desk. "Perhaps," +she said doubtfully, "it would be better--you would rather have me +cash the check and give you the money." Charlie's protests were +reduced to a mere murmur now. "Yes, that will be better." + +Charlie looked perplexed. He frowned tremendously and was very solemn. +He, too, seemed to be having a terrible struggle with his conscience. +It is, perhaps, unnecessary to say that he wasn't. Patty watched him +fearfully, the check clasped to her bosom and her eyes pitiful. At +last he heaved a long, shivering sigh, looked up and met her eyes +fixed upon him. There was fear in them and a great love. He had the +grace to flush faintly. + +"Am I to understand, Pat," he asked slowly, "that you insist upon +letting me have this--this money?" + +"You must take it, Charlie. You _shall_ take it," she cried fiercely. +"Please do." + +"We-ell," he replied, "to please you, I will, since you insist. But I +am very unwilling to take it and I wouldn't, from anybody else. I only +do it now on condition that you will regard it as a loan which I will +repay very soon." How? Did Patty ask herself that question? + +"My dear boy!" exclaimed Patty softly. "My dear boy! Think what it is +saving you from! You won't have to go to j---- Oh, I can't say it. But +you won't have to, now, will you, Charlie? Say you won't." + +"No," said he, sighing heavily again, "I guess I won't. But, as far as +I am concerned, that is of very little consequence. It is you that I +am thinking of. Mother and Sally wouldn't care, except as it would +reflect on them, whether I was in jail or not. Of course," he added, +with an apparent wish to be fair, "I may be doing them an injustice, +but I don't think so. But it is different with you. Aside from the +disgrace which I should be bringing down on your head, I think you +would feel it, for my sake." + +"Feel it!" she murmured. "Feel it! Oh, Charlie, dear! I believe I +should die. I know it would kill me." + +Charlie smiled sympathetically. + +Tears stood in Patty's eyes. "You shall have eight hundred dollars +to-morrow morning. I'll get it as soon as the bank is open. And you +come here after it. Come early, Charlie. I want you all to myself for +a little while." + +"Thank you, Pat. I am very grateful." + +She looked longingly at him; a look which he seemed not to see. + +"Charlie," she said softly. + +"Yes, Pat?" + +She hesitated for a moment. "K-kiss me, Charlie." Her voice was so low +that he scarcely heard her. "Kiss me, won't you, dear?" + +And so he did. That was the least he could do. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + + +The blow had fallen. It had fallen upon Patty. The builder had +happened to come upon Dick in the bank; and, being rather pressed for +money, he had remarked, half in joke, upon the slowness of the +payments from the Hazen estate. Whereat Dick, very much surprised but +trying not to show it, had asked for particulars which the builder was +very willing to supply; and the matter having been sifted to the +bottom, so far as the builder was concerned, Dick had, then and there, +given him a check for all that was owing him, which was greatly to the +builder's gratification and as it should be. + +If the matter was sifted to the bottom, so far as the builder was +concerned, it was very far from that satisfactory condition so far as +Patty was concerned. Dick went to see Patty and asked her, as +delicately and gently as was at all consistent with getting the +information that he wanted, what had become of the checks which he had +sent her, from time to time? Where had the money gone which was +intended for the builder? But Patty stood by her guns and would not +tell. They might suspect, but they should not know--from her. She +insisted that it was her money, that her father had meant it for her, +and she would use it as she pleased without being accountable to +anybody. + +Dick, patient, pleasant, but insistent, was unable to get anything +more out of her, try as he would, and he had been forced to go away +again, baffled and no wiser than he was when he came, except that it +was evident that the money had been applied to some purpose which +Patty wished to conceal. He was satisfied that it had not been applied +to her personal use. Indeed, it was incredible that she could have +used so much without having anything to show for it, unless she had +fallen into the hands of one of those sharpers who supply trusting +women with the stocks and bonds of mythological mines guaranteed to +produce a return of three hundred per cent a year. Even in that case, +Miss Patty might have shown him the beautiful examples of the +engraver's art with which the aforesaid corporations reward their +victims. + +No, such a condition was not probable. It was much more likely that +Charlie Ladue had got it. And because he was morally certain of the +use to which the money had been put--as far as Patty was concerned--he +was careful not to say anything of his suspicions to anybody. He did +not wish them to get to Sally's ears; not until they were something +more than suspicions, at least. Supposing that Charlie had received +the money, what had he done with it? + +So Dick said nothing, but he drew the lines tighter and made his +authority felt. What else could he do? What was his clear duty? It was +to be presumed that Mr. Hazen had had such a condition clearly in mind +when he drew his will. So Patty found herself with no more, at her +immediate command, than her allowance, which Dick intimated would be +made any reasonable amount that she wished; but all of her bills must +be sent to him for payment. He thought it the part of wisdom to write +this. + +The state of mind into which Patty was thrown by this letter may be +imagined. "The insolent puppy!" she cried, sitting alone in her room. +It was rather a strong epithet to apply to Dick Torrington, who never +in his life had been anything but kind and protecting. But people +seldom wish to be protected against themselves. "Upstart!" That, Dick +certainly was not. "Why, that means that I can't pay my own board. And +Miss Miller will think--I don't know what she will think, but the +whole town will know about it." Her face crimsoned with mortification. +She thought deeply for some time. "I know what I'll do," she said to +herself with determination when she had come to an end of her +thinking, which, by the way, she seldom did; not to any logical end. +"I know what I'll do. I will go right out to Doctor Sanderson's. He +won't talk. It's a little early to go into the country, but I need a +change." + +So Patty was quite cheerful, for the time being, while she arranged +the change which she needed so badly. Miss Miller was less cheerful +and allowed herself to remark that perhaps it was just as well, as +Patty didn't seem to be able to pay her bills promptly; able or +willing, she didn't know which and it didn't matter much which it was, +as far as she could see. But she might have stayed her season out, now +that Dick Torrington was willing to undertake the job of looking after +her, and a thankless job it was, as she, Mary Miller, could bear +witness. And thereupon Miss Mary Miller turned her back upon Miss +Patty and flounced out of the room before Patty should make any +suitable reply. + +Miss Miller need not have hurried out of the room, for Patty was too +much astonished to think of any fitting reply for some time. She sat +with her mouth open--a sight which it is to be presumed Miss Miller +would have been glad to see--with her mouth open, which was very +unusual for Miss Patty, and with her cheerfulness quite gone, which +was not at all unusual. After a few minutes she remembered to close +her mouth, but she did not resume her cheerfulness. So Miss Miller +knew, after all. Patty wondered, vaguely, how she had found out. She +did not suspect Dick, for Dick had a talent for keeping his own +counsel. She could not guess, although she had tried, goodness knew! +And Patty heaved a long sigh and gave it up. Then, if Mary Miller +knew, Letty Lambkin knew, and one could be sure that everybody in +town, of her acquaintance who would listen to her, would know, too. + +As a matter of fact, Letty Lambkin was bursting with information. She +went to Mrs. Upjohn's early that year, ostensibly to make that lady +some summer clothes, but really because Mrs. Upjohn let her talk +freely; I wouldn't say that Mrs. Upjohn encouraged her to talk, for +Letty did not need any actual encouragement. But she let her talk, +freely, and that was equivalent to encouragement. + +"Alicia," Letty began, almost as soon as she had got inside the door, +"I s'pose you know about poor Patty. It's the common talk." Mrs. +Upjohn had no chance to reply. "Dick Torrington's taken it upon +himself to manage her affairs, and all Patty has is her allowance. But +of course you know that. It seems rather a high-handed thing for Dick +to do, and he only a little tow-headed shaver when Patty was a grown +woman. I suppose he has the right to do it, or else he wouldn't. I'm +told that Patty was getting into a terrible mess with her property. +She used the checks that were meant for the builder for another +purpose, I hear. Poor Mr. Means! And Mary Miller had to wait, too." + +Mrs. Upjohn laughed comfortably. "I guess Charlie Ladue could tell +something about those checks." + +"Like enough he could," said Miss Lambkin, preparing to go to work. +"Where's your cloth, Alicia? Oh, in your room? Don't you stir. I'll +get it." She came back immediately. "Well, as I was saying, it's +really too bad that Patty's mind is giving way." + +"Her mind giving way!" echoed Mrs. Upjohn, surprised out of her usual +caution. "Oh, I guess not. Who told you that, Letty?" + +"Yes, indeed," said Miss Lambkin with a toss of her head. "Didn't you +know that she's been sent out to Doctor Sanderson's Home for +Incurables? Dick sent her out there nearly a month ago. She's as +comfortable there as could be expected. I have it on the best of +authority--some one connected with the institution," she added with a +nod and a knowing look. + +Mrs. Upjohn laughed again. "I can't believe it, Letty. You must have +been misinformed. In the first place, Doctor Sanderson's place isn't a +home for incurables." + +"I know he doesn't call it that. To tell the truth, I can't find out +just what he does call it." + +"Can't your best of authority tell you that, too?" asked Mrs. Upjohn +slyly. + +"Now, Alicia," said Miss Lambkin with asperity, "you needn't go to +calling in question my authority. It was one of the nurses, if you +must know." + +"Doctor Sanderson wouldn't thank her for talking so freely," remarked +Mrs. Upjohn. "I should really like to know what he would say about +Patty. I understood that she had simply gone there to board." + +"I suppose she can call it that, but I don't believe that Doctor +Sanderson is running a boarding-house or a hotel either. I always +thought that she was bound for the asylum. And, another thing, I had +it from the same authority that Meriwether Beatty goes to see her +regularly once or twice a week, and he's real kind, too. I leave it to +you whether that isn't a sign that he thinks her mind is growing +feeble. He always used to say the most brutal things." + +"I should say it was rather a sign that Doctor Beatty was losing his +mind than that Patty was losing hers," rejoined Mrs. Upjohn. + +"Well," said Letty with an air of finality, "you just wait and see if +I'm not right." + +"I will," said Mrs. Upjohn. + +Miss Lambkin glanced at her smiling face and thought it best to change +the subject. + +"Dick Torrington," she observed, "is going to be married to that +Henrietta girl. But I suppose you know." + +"Yes," said Mrs. Upjohn. + +"I understood," Miss Lambkin resumed, "that the wedding was to be the +last of June." + +"The twenty-eighth," said Mrs. Upjohn. + +"Oh," rejoined Miss Lambkin, somewhat taken aback by Mrs. Upjohn's +ready replies. "And I understood that Henrietta was coming on here to +visit right away." + +"She came last night," said Mrs. Upjohn. + +"To visit with Sally, I suppose?" Letty was consumed with curiosity as +to the source of Mrs. Upjohn's accurate information. She always liked +to be the source herself. + +"She is the guest of Mrs. Torrington," said Mrs. Upjohn, raising her +eyes at last. + +"Dear me, Alicia," Letty exclaimed impatiently, "how you do snap a +person up! I suppose that was why Dick was grinning so like a monkey +when I saw him yesterday afternoon." + +"Because I snap a person up?" + +"Because Henrietta was coming. He seemed to be on his way to the +station." + +"Possibly. He didn't tell me the reason. But Henrietta didn't come +until nearly ten o'clock." + +"Well!" The discomfited Letty devoted herself to her work for some +minutes in silence. But she could not keep silent long. "So Dick gave +you all that information, I suppose. I wondered how you got it all so +pat." + +"No," returned Mrs. Upjohn calmly. "I haven't seen Dick, to speak to, +for a good while." + +Miss Lambkin laid down her work. "Well, Alicia," she said slowly, +"will you be good enough to tell me how you found out all that--right +up to last night?" + +"Better than that, Letty," Mrs. Upjohn replied. "I know what happened +this morning, about half past seven." + +"They ate their breakfast, I suppose," snapped Letty. "I could have +told you that." + +"They didn't have breakfast until eight," said Mrs. Upjohn. + +"Oh, Lord!" cried Miss Lambkin in utter disgust. She had been tried +beyond the bounds of reason. + +Mrs. Upjohn laughed until the tears stood in her eyes. "As to my +information, Letty," she said as soon as she could speak, "I pick it +up here and there, and I use my eyes." + +"As much as to say that you give a good guess. I thought I was pretty +good at picking up information. But you have me beat, Alicia, I'm free +to confess." + +Mrs. Upjohn made no reply. + +"It's rather a pity that Dick didn't choose nearer home," Miss Lambkin +resumed, after pausing long enough for the reply which did not come. +"There's Sally, now." + +"They'd have made a good match," Mrs. Upjohn observed, sighing +reminiscently, "but there's no accounting for tastes in such matters." + +"Meaning Everett?" asked Letty, looking up sharply. + +Mrs. Upjohn shook her head. "Not especially." + +"I suppose you know," said Miss Lambkin pointedly, "with your sources +of accurate information, that he's hanging around again. There was a +time when it seemed to be all off for a few weeks." + +Mrs. Upjohn nodded. + +"There are some cases where you can't even give a good guess," Letty +continued maliciously. "Aren't there, Alicia?" + +Mrs. Upjohn nodded again; but she only rocked gently and said nothing. + +Miss Lambkin seemed to be following out a train of thought, but in +silence. That was not her custom. She usually pursued thought with a +wild halloa. + +Presently she gave a sort of a cackle, which with her did duty for a +chuckle of amusement. "I'd give something to have seen Charlie Ladue +when he first heard of Patty's fix. I'll warrant he didn't like it. I +wonder whether Sally knows. It seems to me that she ought to be told." + +"Told what, Letty? A pack of stories that are no more than guessing? +And who's to tell her? When we know anything about Charlie it'll be +time enough to be thinking about telling Sally." + +"All the same," Letty pursued obstinately, "Sally ought to know." + +"Humph!" said Mrs. Upjohn. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + + +Henrietta sat on the edge of Sally's bed, swinging her little feet, +which hardly touched the floor,--she had only to raise the tips and +they swung clear,--and she was as smiling, as pretty, as dainty, as +inconsequent, and as charming as ever. At least, Sally seemed to find +her charming and so, it is to be presumed, did Dick. Sally, with a +little smile upon her lips, leaned against the window casing and +looked at her. She feasted her eyes; she looked so long and she stared +so hard that Henrietta dammed, for a moment, the stream of talk that +flowed from her lips and flushed a little, faintly. + +"What's the matter, Sally? I know my hair's in a mess. Is there +anything wrong with my dress? Have I got a dirty face? I washed it, +but if there is a smudge on my nose I think it is the part of a friend +to tell me and not let me go out looking like a fright." + +Sally shook her head slowly. "There's nothing the matter, Henrietta. I +was only thinking what a lucky man Dick is." + +The flush on Henrietta's face deepened. "Oh, do you think so, Sally?" +she asked softly. "Do you really think so? I was a little bit afraid +you didn't approve. And how about me? Don't you think I'm a lucky +girl?" + +"Very," answered Sally, smiling still. "Dick is everything that's +good. He's the one best man for you. But why did you think that I +might not approve?" + +"We--ll," said Henrietta with some hesitation, bending forward to look +at her swinging feet, then looking up at Sally, "I--I went after him +in such a barefaced manner, and you knew it." Sally shook her head +again. "Oh, yes, you did. It's no use to shake your gory locks at me. +You knew I did; the very night of your fire. I don't deny it. I did go +after him with all my might and I got him." She spoke triumphantly. +"I'm glad I went after him, for--for I never should have got him at +all if I had not. I'm proud of it, but I don't advertise it, +generally. I confess it to you, but I should deny the fact to anybody +else. Wild horses shouldn't drag it out of me. Not ever! And then, +Sally, another reason why I was a little afraid you wouldn't +approve--" Henrietta hesitated again, stopped, and once more regarded +her feet. + +"Well?" Sally asked, amused. + +"Well." Henrietta looked up and smiled. "To tell the truth, I couldn't +believe that you didn't want him yourself. There! It's out. Just a +little, Sally." + +Sally laughed. "Not even just a little, Henrietta. Dick is a dear +friend--he has been that to me always, ever since his kite and +Everett's broke my foot--and I hope he always will be; but the idea of +falling in love with each other never entered either of our heads. So +you may be quite easy in your mind. My heart isn't even bent." + +"But you know," Henrietta insisted, "that you could have got him if +you had tried as hard as I did." + +"I guess not," Sally replied; "not after you appeared, anyway. You +needn't distress yourself. I remember that I used to look upon Dick +and Everett with adoration, as a little girl. They were my ideals. +When they carried me home, after the kite accident, I was in the +seventh heaven. But there was nothing, even then. No, Dick is all +yours, as far as I am concerned." + +Henrietta breathed a sigh. "Well, I'm glad to be sure of it. But, +Sally," she continued, with a doubtful glance, as if she were a little +afraid of Sally and of what she was about to ask, "how about Everett? +Was there ever--?" + +Sally laughed again suddenly. "No, there wasn't. Everett never looked +at me." + +"But, Sally," Henrietta persisted, "it isn't so now. Does he--you +aren't engaged, are you, Sally?" she asked softly, glancing up timidly +under her long lashes. + +Sally seemed to be in haste to reply. "Oh, no," she said. "Oh, no. I +am not likely to be. I suppose you mean Everett." + +"Yes, I did," returned Henrietta. She showed some surprise. "Why? Is +there anybody else?" + +"No, oh, no," Sally answered more hastily than before. "There isn't. +As far as I can see, I am scheduled to teach for the rest of my life." + +"Are you quite sure, Sally?" Henrietta urged. "Isn't there _anybody_? +Not even somebody that you wish--" + +Sally was getting rather red. "No, no, Henrietta," she said, +interrupting. "Now that's enough about my affairs of the heart. It's a +little embarrassing to be questioned so closely, dear." + +"I'm sure I beg your pardon, Sally," cried Henrietta impulsively. "I +didn't mean to be. Now, _I_ am just dying to be questioned closely. +Try me." + +"I don't know what to ask," said Sally, smiling. "I would if I did." + +Henrietta sighed. "You're very disappointing, Sally. If you were +really interested you would know." She sighed again. "But, anyway, +you'll be what I want you to be at my wedding, won't you?" + +"Indeed, I will. I'll be anything you want me to be." She laughed a +little. "But I warn you that I shall need coaching. What do I have to +do?" + +"Nothing much. You'll have all the coaching you need. You know it's +going to be at Fox's house. He's going to open it for the occasion." + +"Only for the occasion?" Sally spoke coldly; so coldly that her voice +did not sound natural. "I rather gathered, from a remark that he made +a while ago, that he contemplated matrimony, too." + +"Fox get married?" Henrietta was genuinely surprised. "Well, it's news +to me. Who's to be my sister-in-law? Did he say?" + +Sally shook her head. "I supposed it was probably Margaret Savage." + +"Oh!" cried Henrietta. "I hope not." Then she seemed to be ashamed of +her outburst and sat, swinging her feet and looking wistfully at +Sally. "I had hoped," she observed at last, "that, when Fox's time +came, it would be--" She stopped and considered. "I hoped that it +would be--not Margaret Savage, Sally." + +Sally made no reply. + +"Margaret Savage is so--so _empty_, you see," Henrietta went on. "She +would not be exhilarating. But I won't say any more about her." + +"It isn't really necessary," Sally returned, laughing. + +"And the less said the better," Henrietta concluded. "I don't know +why, but it reminds me of your Cousin Patty. Dick hasn't told me much +of anything," Henrietta lowered her voice. "Do you suppose it is true +that she is losing her mind?" + +"Did Dick tell you that?" asked Sally, startled. + +Henrietta shook her head. "I heard it talked about." + +"I have no reason to think so. She gets queerer and more cranky every +year. She has changed a good deal since Uncle John died. Poor Patty! +She has very little comfort in life--except Charlie." Sally laughed +shortly. "I hope she finds him a comfort." + +Henrietta did not know what to say. Consequently she said nothing, +which was, no doubt, just the right thing. + +"Charlie will be home to-morrow," Sally added; then she corrected +herself. "I should have said that Charlie is due to-morrow. He may not +come." + +"Oh, Sally!" Henrietta cried. "What makes you speak so? It--it sounds +horrible." + +"It's the simple fact, Henrietta." + +"Why don't you do something about it? I would." + +Sally gave a little shrug. "What would you do? There is nothing to be +done. Charlie's a headstrong boy and he seems to have slipped away +altogether from mother's control. Patty indulges him and I don't see +how I can do anything. If he had really done anything wrong and I knew +it, it would be a different matter. I don't know that he has--but," +she added in a low voice, "I don't know that he hasn't." + +Henrietta chanced to glance at the watch upon her wrist. "Oh, mercy +me!" she cried, springing to her feet. "I didn't know it was so late. +I've got to meet Dick in five minutes. Good bye, Sally." + +Henrietta was gone, running down the stairs. She need not have hurried +so, for Dick was late. He was so late that she had become hotly +impatient and then angry with him. Indeed, she was just going away, +hurt and angry, when Dick appeared, hurrying as if he were pursued by +devils and smiling propitiatingly. + +"I'm awfully sorry to be so late, Henrietta," he began. "I simply +could not get away from those two bores. I came just as soon as I +could without throwing them out of the office." + +Henrietta's anger was dissolved like a morning mist. "Who was it, +Dick?" + +"The Carling twins. It took them a long time to say what they wanted +to, for you know they still stutter." + +"I've never seen them, although I've heard of them. What were they +trying to say?" + +"Oh, I don't know. To tell the truth, I was so afraid of being late +that I didn't pay as much attention as I ought to have." + +This confession would have been a great comfort to the Carlings, for +they had taken especial pains and made this trip for the sole purpose +of seeing Dick. What they had to say concerned Charlie Ladue. It is +not to be supposed that they would be so concerned about the acts of +Charlie Ladue, if he were the only one. But his acts would involve +Sally, sooner or later, and, so long as that was inevitable, it had +better be sooner. In fact, the sooner the better. And, each of the +Carlings knowing a thing or two, as was to be expected of them, they +had had a long deliberation on the subject, only the night before. + +"S--s--ssomeb--b--body ought t--to kn--n--now ab--bout it," Harry +observed. "I w--w--wouldn't b--bother m--myself ab--b--out +wh--wh--what t--that l--l--lemon of a k--kid d--did 'f--f it w--wasn't +for S--S--Sally. D--d--don't l--like t--to b--be the one t--to t--tell +on h--h--him, b--but wh--wh--who d--does? Wh--wh--who'll we t--tell? +Th--that's the q--q--question." + +"C--c--can't t--tell S--S--Sally," Horry remarked. + +"C--c--course we c--c--can't," Harry replied scornfully. "An--ny +f--f--fool'd kn--n--now th--that." + +"N--n--nor P--P--Patty," Horry remarked further. + +They both grinned. Harry did not think the observation worthy of a +reply. + +"M--m--might t--tell D--D--Doc--Doc--tor S--S--San--n--damn it. You +kn--now." + +Harry nodded. He did not care to try the name. They both knew. +"N--no," he said. + +"D--D--Dick?" The name came from Horry's lips with the force of an +explosion. + +"D--D--Dick's n--no g--good," Harry replied gloomily. "G--goin' t--to +be m--m--married 'n a l--little m--more'n a w--w--week." + +They both relapsed into silence. + +After some minutes of silence, Horry heaved a sigh. "N--n--no use," he +said. "It's D--D--Dick. C--c--can't th--think of an--nybody else. I'm +g--g--goin' d--down to--m--m--morrow. C--c--come b--back s--same +d--day; 'll--ll--ll y--you go?" + +Harry nodded. "'R--r--right," he said. The Carlings were to graduate +within a week, which explains their anxiety to get back. + +Horry rose. Their deliberations were ended. "Th--that d--d--damned +f--f--fool m--m--must ha--ha--have d--dropped m--m--more'n +f--f--fif--f--teen hundred 'n n--numbers--s--seven th--th--this +y--year. I w--wonder wh--wh--whose?" + +Horry's information was surprisingly accurate. + +"G--guess it's P--P--Patty's," Harry observed. + +Accordingly they went down to see Dick. Their story was shot off at +him in little puffs, like a bunch of firecrackers. Dick, being +diverted by the manner of telling and being much concerned about his +engagement with Henrietta, did not take it all in, perhaps, and if he +forgot all about it during the next ten days, he is to be excused. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + + +Henrietta's wedding was rather a quiet one, as weddings went in +Whitby. That is, there were not many more people there than the old +cream-colored house could accommodate comfortably, so that the +overflow would not have more than half filled the yard; which was +lucky, as the yard was already nearly half full of automobiles and +carriages, tightly packed by the wall. There was a long string of them +in the road, too. But as it was a lovely summer day, the first really +warm day of the summer, and as the birds were singing madly in the +orchard as though they knew it was a very special occasion and one to +be celebrated accordingly, and as the orchard was a very inviting +place with a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the apple trees, and +as the view over the little valley was more attractive than the most +beautiful interior of old houses, and as--well, without continuing the +catalogue of reasons, the people gradually drifted outside, two at a +time. They formed a cluster around the well-sweep; a cluster whose +composition was continually changing. Having given as much voice to +their admiration of the well-sweep as they thought was expected of +them, they wandered on and scattered and drew together into other +groups and scattered again; and by a repetition of this process little +clusters were formed, at last, that had no tendency to scatter. + +There were two groups in particular whose composition was changing, +even yet, and changing very rapidly. They were, for all the world, +like swarms of ants, the component individuals continually coming and +going like ants which were very busy and very intent on their +business. These individuals would hurry up and join the group at its +outer edge, and push and struggle to get to the centre, while others +seemed equally eager to get out. So that there was a continual +movement and jostling. But if you could have looked into the centre of +either of these groups, you would have seen--no, not the bride; you +would have seen either a great bowl of punch or a table loaded with +good things, or their remains--no more than the wrecks of things. As +to the bride, she had slipped away. + +There was another group which had formed after the manner of these +stable groups already mentioned, and which had somewhat withdrawn +itself to the very back edge of the orchard, away from the others. The +members of this group were not concerning themselves with the punch or +with the things to eat or with the ants coming and going so +continuously, but they talked together in low voices as if they would +escape observation. They were Sally and Fox and Mrs. Ladue; but they +could not hope to escape for long. And Fox was somewhat serious, which +is not to be wondered at, he having just lost a sister, if you care to +look at it in that way. And Sally was rather serious, too, which is +not to be wondered at, for she had just lost a friend, however you +prefer to look at it. Mrs. Ladue was the only one of that group who +looked other than serious and solemn, and there was, even in her look, +something lacking to a perfect joy, for a person who cared enough to +find it might have discovered something wistful there. It was as if +she wanted something very much and knew that she could not get it. I +leave it to you whether any person can be in that state of mind and be +perfectly joyful. What it was that she wanted I do not know nor why +she could not get it; although, if the thing concerned those other +two, the only reason that she could not get it was that they were both +as blind as bats--blinder than bats. + +Sally was silent, gazing away at the deep woods behind them. Her +mother gazed wistfully at Sally and said nothing either. And Fox +looked at them and was as silent as they. Some one came up and +exchanged a few words with Fox and went away again; but neither Mrs. +Ladue nor Sally said anything. Sally was still gazing off at the +woods and seemed to be unaware of any new presence. + +"Sally," said Fox. + +She turned and looked at him, but still she said nothing. + +"Didn't you know who that was?" + +She shook her head. "Who what was?" + +"The man who spoke to me? But I suppose you didn't know that anybody +spoke to me. It was Horry Carling." + +"Oh, was it?" She did not seem interested. + +"He seemed to want to speak to you." + +"Well, why didn't he?" + +"Probably because you didn't seem to see him. Is there anything the +matter, Sally?" + +Sally smiled very slightly and very soberly. "Nothing much. Nothing +worth mentioning." + +They relapsed into silence again, but after a while Sally spoke. + +"Would you--would you be much disappointed, Fox," she asked, without +looking at him, "if I gave up teaching? Would it seem as if I were +throwing away all these years of preparation?" + +"No," he answered, meeting her serious mood, "I don't see that it +would. And I don't see that it matters to anybody but yourself just +when you give it up. There is no reason, now, for your keeping on with +it unless you want to. You will have to give it up soon anyway." + +Sally looked up at him quickly. "Why, Fox? Why will I have to?" + +Fox evaded this question for the time, at any rate. "Why have you +thought of giving it up now, Sally? Do the poor kids prove too +trying?" + +Sally nodded. "I am ashamed of it. I'm not fitted for it. I haven't +patience enough--with stupidity. But what did you mean by saying that +I would have to give it up soon?" + +"Why," Fox replied, casting an embarrassed glance in Mrs. Ladue's +direction, "when you are married, you know--" + +"Oh," Sally cried with a quick and vivid blush--a rush of blood to the +head, no less,--"oh, but I shan't. I never shall." + +Mrs. Ladue appeared to think it a fitting time to slip away quietly. + +"I didn't mean," Sally went on rapidly, "to be idle. I--well, to tell +you a secret, Fox, one that I didn't mean to tell yet--I have an +idea." + +"Behold me suitably surprised! Sally has an idea!" + +Sally chuckled, which represented the height of Fox's ambition for the +moment. "Don't make fun of me, or I won't tell you what it is." + +"I am most seriously inclined, Sally. And a bank safe--or a strong +box--is not so secret as I am. You observe that I do not use the +ancient simile of the grave. There are many things that keep a secret +better than a grave. I am listening." + +With that, he inclined his head toward her. + +"I might box your ear instead of telling you," said Sally lightly, +"but I won't. You know," she continued, hesitating a little, "that +Uncle John's business has been--well, just kept alive, until they +should decide what to do with it." + +Fox nodded, wondering what she was coming at. + +"And I was in Uncle John's office every day for years. I got much +interested. And I--I believe that I could do something with it, Fox, +after I had served my apprenticeship at it. I think I should like to +try. The clerks and things--the machinery of the business--are there." +Fox wondered what the clerks and things would have thought of it. "I +wish I had spoken to Dick about it. He'll be away, now, for a month. +But I could write to him, couldn't I? I will." + +"There is a good deal in this idea of yours, Sally," was Fox's only +comment. He was looking at her with a little smile of amusement. +"Don't you want to vote?" he asked abruptly. + +"No, I don't," she answered as abruptly. "But I thought that it would +be a great pity to let an old established business just vanish. And +they all seem so proud of it. And perhaps Charlie could get into it +when he is through college. At least, if he was disposed to, it +would--it might give us--mother and me--some control over him again. +Don't you think so, Fox?" + +Fox shook his head gravely. "I don't know, Sally. The idea strikes me +as a good one; a good one for you. I think I should go rather slow +about Charlie." + +"Well--" Sally turned. "It is a secret, you know, Fox." + +"Between you and me, Sally," Fox returned gently. + +Sally returned to her contemplation of the woods. She seemed to note +something. + +"I believe," she said suddenly, "that those trees are good to climb." + +"Why," said Fox, smiling, "I believe they are." + +"Will you--" Sally began brightly; then she seemed to change her mind +and she changed her question accordingly. + +"Won't you keep this house open? It is a pity not to." + +"Keep the house open?" Fox repeated, puzzled. + +"Why, yes," she replied. "Don't you remember that you said--or +intimated--that you were going to get married?" + +Fox laughed. "I believe I did," he answered, "on a certain occasion. I +believe I am, although I can't say exactly when it will be." + +"I think, Fox," said Sally, turning to him and speaking with emphasis, +"that we are old enough friends for you to--you might tell me who the +girl is. I should like to congratulate her." + +"You shall know, Sally, I promise you. I wouldn't even get engaged +without your knowledge." + +"Oh," said Sally then, brightening unconsciously, "then she hasn't +given her answer yet?" + +Fox had hard work to keep from laughing, but he did. + +"Not yet," he said. + +"It seems to me she takes her time about it," Sally observed. + +"Should she give me her answer before she is asked?" + +"Oh!" Sally cried. "So you haven't even asked her! Well, I think +you're a slow poke." + +"Do you?" Fox said slowly. "Do you? Well, perhaps I am. Perhaps I am. +It had not occurred to me. I'll think it over." + +"And Margaret--" said Sally. + +"Margaret!" Fox interrupted, mystified. + +"Considering the imminence of the--the catastrophe," Sally went on, +smiling a little, "it might be just as well to climb while I have the +chance." + +"Now?" + +Sally looked around. The crowd was thinning, but it was still a crowd. + +"Perhaps not now. But on the first opportunity." + +"There'll be a good many opportunities. Even after--" + +Sally shook her head. "I couldn't come here, you know, and climb +trees. Only think what Margaret would say--and think!" + +"Margaret!" Fox exclaimed again. "Why, I don't remember intimating +anything about--" + +"Oh, Doctor Sanderson," cried a high and quavering voice; the voice of +Miss Patty Havering Hazen, "here you are at last! I have been looking +everywhere." + +Ah! Doctor Sanderson; you are saved again! Good for you, Patty! Good +on your head! But is it possible that the doctor did not want to be +saved? Did we hear aright? + +"Damn!" observed Doctor Sanderson quietly. It was a heartfelt +observation made for his own satisfaction, so far as a mere remark +could accomplish that desirable end, and was intended, we may be sure, +for no other ears than his own. But Sally heard it and chuckled. + +Yes, good for you, Patty! There is no knowing what he might have been +led into saying if he had not been interrupted at this point; what +unwise course he might have pursued. You were just in time, Patty, to +save him from his folly. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + + +That old office from whose windows one could see the rows of oil casks +and the fence of old ships' sheathing and the black dust of the road +and the yards of vessels--that old office which had been sleeping for +something more than a year--that old office which had been left behind +when the business centre of Whitby began to move uptown, so many years +ago--that old office, as I started to say at the beginning, was waking +up again. + +One hot morning in early August, Horry Carling stood at the window, +his hands thrust deep into his pockets, and he gazed at a row of oil +casks; gazed thoughtfully and for a long time. Then a smile began to +curl the corners of his mouth. Presently he chuckled. + +"I s--s--say, O--Ol--lie, c--c--come here; th--that is, if--f--f +S--S--Sally c--can s--s--spare you." + +Sally looked up from her papers. Her hair was in a pretty disorder; in +a disorder that was very attractive, indeed, being somewhat rumpled in +the front and running over with little ringlets, formed by the heat +and the dampness, at her forehead and by the sides of her ears and +down at her neck. She was busy, but she was interested and she was +happy, for which I, for one, am thankful. She brushed the ringlets out +of her eyes, impatiently, and smiled. + +"Go ahead, Ollie," she said. "What is it, Horry?" + +"O--only a r--r--row of b--b--bar--r--rels," he replied. Ollie Pilcher +was standing at his elbow now, looking over his shoulder. "D--d--do +y--y--you rem--em--mmb--ber th--that r--r--row?" Horry asked. +"M--m--might b--b--be the th--the v--v--very s--same b--b--b--barrels." + +Ollie burst out laughing. He did remember. "How long ago was that, +Horry?" + +"S--s--sev--ven years," he answered. "Ab--b--bout th--this t--t--time +o' y--year, w--w--wasn't it?" + +Ollie nodded. + +"Oh," Sally cried, "I remember that, too." + +Horry turned. "Y--y--you d--do!" he spluttered in surprise. +"Wh--wh--where w--w--were y--you?" + +"Sitting at that very window," she returned. "Uncle John saw it, +too,--some of it." + +Horry chuckled again. "Y--y--your Un--n--cle"--here he winked and gave +a peculiar twitch to his eyebrows, as though that last syllable hurt +him--"J--J--John w--was a b--brick, S--S--Sally." + +"He was, Horry. You don't know what a brick he was." She sighed +lightly and then she laughed. "Whatever did you do with your jacket?" + +"M--m--most s--set th--the h--house af--f--fire w--with it. I--it +w--w--was a p--pretty n--n--new j--j--j--th--there!--c--coat, and +m--m--moth--ther c--c--couldn't b--b--bear to th--throw it aw--w--way, +s--so sh--sh--she k--k--kept it l--lying ar--r--round 'n--n--ntil +w--w--winter. Th--then sh--she t--t--told m--me t--to p--p--put it +in--n--to th--the f--f--furnace. M--m--most s--set th--the h--house +af--f--f--fire. F--f--full o' o--o--oil, y' kn--n--now. H--h--hor--rid +sm--sm--smoke." + +Ollie and Sally were chuckling in little bursts. + +Horry sighed. "Th--those t--t--times w--were f--f--fun, th--though," +he said; "g--great--t--test f--f--fun th--that e--ever w--was. +N--never c--c--come ag--g--gain, w--will th--they, Ol--Ollie?" + +"Oh," Ollie replied lazily, grinning, "I don't know. I'd like to run +'em again, right now." + +"You boys had better not," Sally remarked, with a shake of the head. +"Those barrels belong to the firm, you know. You'd be the losers, as +well as I--and the Hazen Estate." + +"'T--t w--w--would b--be m--m--more f--f--fun th--than s--some +th--things I kn--n--now ab--b--bout," Horry observed cryptically, +"an' l--l--less ex--x--xpen--s--sive." + +Ollie looked at him and they both grinned and went back to their +desks. + +As may have been inferred, Horry Carling and Ollie Pilcher were, if +not members of the firm of John Hazen, Inc., at least stockholders. +Harry Carling would have liked to enter the Law School; but being +debarred, for obvious reasons, from practising law, he had chosen +engineering. Which, it may be remarked in passing, having been chosen +rather from reasons of expedience than because he had any natural +taste or aptitude in that direction, may not have been a wise choice. +Horry, who had gone into what he liked the best and wanted the most, +stood a much better chance of making a success of his life. Had not +his grandfather been a great ship captain almost all the days of his +life? And Ollie's grandfather, too? It was in their blood. If the salt +is in a man's blood--or a boy's--it must come out, sooner or later, or +engender a ferment which will trouble that man as long as he lives. +And Horry and Ollie, having the natural taste for what they were doing +and having had a pretty fair training for it all through their +boyhood, fitted into the new firm of John Hazen, Inc., like new parts +into a machine. It needed only a little polishing by wear for that +machine to run as smoothly as it had been running for fifty years. + +Sally worked hard at her new business. She had compounded with her +conscience by not giving up her teaching yet--definitely. She would +teach one more year, at least. Then, she said to herself, if she still +felt as she did now, it would not be right for her to keep on with it. +Meanwhile, she would have some time every afternoon, and, with Horry +and Ollie,--really, it was going pretty well, much better than she had +sometimes feared. And at this point she would sigh and smile and fall +to looking out of the window at the yards of the ships--_her_ ships, +she liked to think, although, of course, they were not all hers, but +they belonged to the stockholders in John Hazen, Inc., according to +their holdings, and that list included Patty and Dick and Horry +Carling and Ollie Pilcher and some others; but she liked to look out +at the vessels and imagine that they were all hers. And she saw the +rows of oil-barrels and the black dust of the road, which was kept +pretty well stirred up by the feet of the horses which dragged the +heavy trucks in an almost continuous procession. At any rate, she +could call the dust hers,--if she wanted to,--for it would not have +been stirred up if it had not been for her, but would have lain +quietly there until it ceased to be dust at all and became no more +than the surface of a street that was almost abandoned; baked hard by +the sun and gullied by the rain and somewhat grass-grown. Then she +would laugh and decide that she did not want the dust anyway; she had +quite enough of that. As for her method of compounding with her +conscience, it pleased her better than it pleased Mr. MacDalie, who +did not share her misgivings. + +Sally's efforts were not enough to induce Charlie to spend his +vacation slaving in an office. Every one might not call the occupation +of Horry and Ollie slaving. Sally mildly suggested that view of the +matter. + +"If I owned some stock in it, the matter would have a different +aspect, no doubt," Charlie replied sarcastically. "As it is, I should +be nothing but a clerk." + +He was lucky to have the chance to start with that, Sally pointed out. +It was possible that he was not fitted to be more than office boy. + +With this shot, which may have been unduly hard upon Charlie, Sally +turned away. Charlie, at any rate, thought it unduly hard, and felt +much injured. Sally was always hard on him; unfair. What could she +know against him? And, having procured a horse at a livery +stable,--the liveliest young horse they had, with the most stylish +rig, which, by the way, Sally would have the privilege of paying +for,--Charlie took his way out to Doctor Sanderson's to see Patty and +to be consoled and, incidentally, with the secret hope that Patty had +a few dollars to spare for a deserving and much misunderstood boy. For +Patty managed to save up a few dollars for that purpose now and then, +although Dick had greatly curtailed her sources of supply. No, they +were _his_ sources of supply which had been curtailed by Dick, Charlie +said to himself. Damn Dick anyway! What right had he to do such a +thing? Where should he, Charlie, get money in time of need? Where +should he, indeed? Damn Dick! And Charlie gave the lively young horse +a cut with the whip, as if the horse were responsible. The lively +young horse resented cuts with the whip and proceeded to run; which +gave Charlie so much occupation that he forgot, for the moment, about +Dick. + +Charlie was getting more and more into the habit of getting rigs at +the livery stable, as the summer went on,--rigs which were invariably +charged to Sally, she having made no objection to previous charges of +a like nature--and of going out to see Patty. Doctor Sanderson's place +was so indecently far out anyway that you had to have a horse or an +automobile. He couldn't be expected to walk it, and, of course, he had +to see Patty occasionally. You wouldn't have him so ungrateful as not +to go to see her at all, would you? He supposed Sally would have to +pay for the rigs, for _he_ hadn't any of Uncle John's money, had he? +The fact that this was not strictly true did not seem to occur to him; +and the fact that Patty had put the stout horse at his disposal made +no difference, so far as the livery stable was concerned. +They--meaning Sally--might consider themselves lucky that he did not +get an automobile to make the journey of two miles and a half. He +couldn't be expected to drive a horse that was thirty years old and +was only fit for the bone-yard, now, could he? You could make it in +five minutes with an auto and he thought that they--meaning Sally +again--might save money if he did get one. Of course he wasn't going +to. He would defer to their absurd prejudice on that point. And more +to the same effect. + +It was no wonder that Sally turned away without speaking. She was +afraid to answer; afraid of what she might be led to say. And she +would go down to the office and sit looking out of the window and +wondering what was to become of Charlie and what she could do about +it; wondering what it was that he did in college that it seemed to +have such an unfortunate influence on him; wondering whether it would +not be better for him, after all, to come out and be made to go to +work. She almost decided that it would. Then she remembered that she +had not the only word to say about that. There were others who would +have something to say and the attempt would raise a storm. Sally was +not afraid of storms, but--well--and she would look up to find Horry +staring at her as if he wanted to tell her something. + +"What is it, Horry?" she would ask, smiling. + +Horry would be distinctly embarrassed. He always was: and he always +made the same reply. "N--no--noth--th-thing, S--S--Sally," he would +say, with a sigh. "I--i--it's n--n--noth--th--thing, o--only I +h--h--hate t--to s--s--see you s--so b--b--both--thered ab--b--b--bout +an--n--nyth--th--thing. Ch--er--n--n--nob--body's wo--worth it." + +That was as much as she could get out of him, although, to tell the +truth, she did not try very hard. She only asked her question for his +sake, he seemed to want so much to tell something. It did not occur to +her that what Horry wanted to say he wanted to say for her sake; and +it was for her sake that he did not say it, although it trembled on +the very tip of his tongue. Perhaps it trembled too much. Perhaps, if +he had found speaking an easier matter, he would have told what he +seemed to be on the point of telling. + +Toward the last of August, Henrietta and Dick came back. Henrietta, of +course, did not have much time, but she did manage to come and see +Sally at the office, one afternoon, on which occasion she completely +upset the business of John Hazen, Inc., and all the members of the +firm, both present and prospective, fluttered about her and gave her +their undivided attention. Naturally, this state of affairs pleased +Henrietta, but it embarrassed her, too, for you can't--or a girl who +has been recently married can't--speak out freely concerning the +secrets which burden her bosom before two unmarried young +fellows,--not that the fact of their being unmarried made any +difference, of course,--but before two young fellows whom she had +never seen before in her life. But Henrietta made an effort to see +Sally alone, and on the occasion of that effort, which was successful, +she talked a steady stream about Dick, to all of which Sally assented +with a smile and with as much enthusiasm as even Henrietta could wish. + +"And, you know, Sally," she said at the end of this eulogium--and +otherwise, "you know, we are in a difficulty now. It is not a very +great difficulty and yet it is, too. We don't know where to live." + +"How terrible!" said Sally. + +"There are so few houses that are--well, dignified enough; suited to +Dick's position, you know." + +"Why don't you build?" + +"We might, of course, but that would take a long time, and--and, to +tell the truth, I've set my--we have set our hearts on an old house; +not too old, you know." + +"I see," said Sally; "just old enough." + +"Exactly," Henrietta agreed. "Just old enough. Now there's Miss +Patty's house. It's restored and the work's done." + +"Well?" + +"And Miss Patty doesn't seem inclined to live in it. She doesn't like +to leave Fox's. I saw her and spoke about it, and she said so." + +"Well, then, where is the difficulty? Patty's house is a very +pleasant, homelike house. I judge that it is just old enough. Can't +you rent it?" + +"No," said Henrietta in accents of despair. "Patty won't rent it. She +says she may want to go back at any minute. She said she'd be glad to +oblige me, as Doctor Sanderson's sister, but my being Mr. +Torrington's wife changes the aspect of the matter. She seems to have +some grudge against Dick." + +Sally laughed. "That isn't so strange. Knowing Patty, I should think +you'd better give up the idea for the present." + +"That's just it," Henrietta replied hastily. "For the present. That +makes it unwise for us to build, when we may be able to get that house +at any time almost. Of course, Dick must not seem to force Miss Patty +in any way. He had to use his authority under the will, you know. Mr. +Hazen would have expected him to and would have _wished_ him to, or +why should he have made his will that way? He _had_ to--Dick, I mean, +of course--Dick simply _had_ to, don't you see, Sally, when he found +that Patty had been using all that money and she wouldn't tell what +she had used it for--wouldn't give a hint, you know. Dick only wanted +a hint, so that he could keep his accounts straight, or something of +that sort. It wasn't evident at all that Patty had used it for +herself--Oh!" And Henrietta suddenly clapped her hand over her pretty +mouth. "Have I been telling secrets, Sally? Have I?" She looked rather +scared, as people were apt to be in any matter which concerned Sally, +though I can't see why. Sally was as mild as a lamb in such cases. + +She was mild now, but she was gazing at Henrietta with solemn and +serious eyes, as if she had discovered a new country. + +"I don't know, Henrietta," she replied, "whether you are telling +secrets or not. What you were telling was news to me. If you are in +any doubt about it, I should think you'd better not tell any more. But +you can see why Patty is not inclined to do any favor for Dick." + +"Well," returned Henrietta slowly--slowly for her, "I suppose I can, +although _I_ think that Dick is doing her the _greatest_ favor. As far +as her house is concerned, Dick might feel at liberty to rent to any +one else, but not to himself. I'm sure I hope he won't rent to anybody +else, whatever he does or Patty doesn't do. He ought not to do +anything that could be considered dishonorable, of course, but I +can't quite see why this would be. But he simply won't." + +"No," said Sally. "I should expect that of Dick." + +"There doesn't seem to be anything to do about it," Henrietta +continued, "unless--unless," she suggested with hesitation, "you would +see Patty, Sally." + +Sally smiled with amusement. "Of course I will if you want me to, +Henrietta. But I'm not the one to make a successful emissary to Patty. +I'm not in favor any more than Dick. You'd much better make up to +Charlie if you want anything of Patty; much better." + +"That seems to be a good idea," Henrietta murmured, gazing +thoughtfully at Sally the while, "and easy too. I'll do it." + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + + +Henrietta had no great difficulty in doing it. She made a good +beginning before Charlie went back to college, although she had only a +little more than a fortnight, and she continued her attentions at +frequent intervals thereafter. There was nothing crude about either +Henrietta or her methods. She did not let him suspect her object or, +indeed, that she had an object, and Charlie did not look for one. His +own attractions were enough, goodness knows, to account for any +attentions that might be lavished upon him, and he accepted those +attentions almost as a matter of course. But as attentions and he had +become, to a certain extent, strangers,--always excepting Patty's +attentions, which did not count,--Charlie was very grateful in his +inmost soul and he made the most of them. He came down to Whitby more +often than he had been in the habit of doing and he invariably went to +the Torringtons' at the first possible moment and spent as much time +there as he could. He even developed a certain shyness which was very +becoming. But he avoided Dick. He had a grudge against Dick and he was +resolved not to forget it. Dick had done him an injury. + +He did find himself forgetting that injury, in time. Who, in the face +of Dick's leisurely cordiality and general good nature, could remember +not to forget it? And in time--not so very long a time either--he +perceived that Henrietta had a secret sorrow which gnawed like a worm +at her heart. He set himself the task of pursuing this sorrow and +plucking it out; and--marvel of marvels!--he succeeded in dragging +from the unwilling Henrietta some information as to its nature. We +can, perhaps, imagine the reluctance with which this information was +given. + +Charlie, although he may have been secretly disappointed that +Henrietta's sorrow was not more serious,--he may have thought that it +was of no less import than that she had found, too late, that she +loved another man better than she did her husband,--Charlie, I say, +although he may have been disappointed, managed to conceal whatever of +disappointment he felt. + +"Oh," he said magnanimously and with sufficient indifference, "don't +you worry about that. I can fix that. I'll just speak to Patty about +it the very next time I go out there." + +He did; and he reported to Henrietta that he had prevailed upon Patty +to consent to any arrangement she liked. He had also prevailed upon +Patty--not reported to Henrietta--to scrape together as many dollars +as she could conveniently manage to scrape--conveniently or +inconveniently, it was all one to Charlie--and to hand them over to +him for some purpose. It really does not matter what the purpose was. +Charlie was very fertile in invention, and if it was not one thing it +was another. Any excuse was good enough. But the strain was telling +upon Patty. Charlie should have been more careful. + +Henrietta was so pleased with the report that she redoubled her +attentions. This may not have been wise, but there seems to be no +doubt that it was good for Charlie, on the whole. He went in to number +seven but once before Christmas, and there might have been some ground +for hope that, between Henrietta's attentions and his devotion to +automobiles, he might be induced to give it up altogether. Harry +Carling, who was keeping as close a watch upon Charlie as he could, +hoped so, at all events. + +For Charlie, in his sophomore year, ran to motor cars. Indulgence of a +fine fancy for motors is apt to be expensive, as Patty was finding +out, but it is not as expensive as Charlie's one other diversion is +apt to be, on occasion. That his one experience of it, in his first +term, was not more expensive must be set down solely to luck. + +Automobiles were bad enough, as a diversion, for a boy who could +afford them no better than Charlie Ladue. Patty learned of them with +horror. She had hoped, fondly, that Charlie had given them up after +his experience with them only last Easter; oh, she _hoped_ he had. She +said it with tears in her eyes and with an agonized expression that +would have melted a heart less hard than Charlie's. But Charlie merely +smiled. That phantom car had done him no harm, although he did not +call it a phantom car to Patty. Motor cars were not for the Hazens; +not for people of the older regime. And Charlie smiled again and +remarked that they might not have come to motors yet, but they would. +Patty said, with some spirit, that they were vulgar and that +they--they had a bad smell. For her part, she was satisfied to go no +faster than nature intended. The horse, as Charlie might be aware, was +the fastest animal that goes. + +Having delivered this shot with evident pride, Patty sat back in her +chair and waited to see if Charlie would be able to make any reply. +She considered that last argument unanswerable. Charlie apparently did +not. He observed that Pat's horse, rising thirty and rather fat, could +hardly be called the fastest animal that goes. He never was very fast. +But he contented himself with that, for Patty had just turned over to +him all the ready money that she could raise and was feeling really +impoverished in consequence. So Charlie, having got what he came for, +took his leave, bidding Pat not to be anxious on his account, for he +wasn't going to get smashed up again--he almost forgot to put in the +"again"--and he wasn't going to spend much money on machines in the +future. They always cost more at first, before you got used to them. +With this comforting assurance, at which poor Patty sighed and said +that she hoped he was right, Charlie went out cheerfully to sit behind +one of the fastest animals that go, and to take the rig, for which +Sally would have to pay, back to the livery stable. + +Nothing in particular happened that winter, except that Dick and +Henrietta moved into Miss Patty's house early in February. Patty was +getting to be considered--and to consider herself--one of Doctor +Sanderson's patients. And the Retreat was filling up and she did not +want to give up her comfortable room, with the probable chance that +she would be unable to get it again when she came back. In fact, it +looked as if anybody had better hold on to what she had at Doctor +Sanderson's. + +So Sally saw but little of Fox that winter. They were both very busy, +and Sally had her hands and her head full, with the office and her +school, too. But she liked the office in spite of the work which, +between you and me, was not very hard. There was a good deal of it, +but it was interesting and Sally went home at night, tired and happy +and with her head full of schemes. Sometimes Everett was waiting for +her. She did not know whether she liked that or not, but there did not +seem to be reason enough for sending him away. She did not quite know +what her relations were with Everett; friendly, she hoped, no more. +For there was a difference between Sally's state of mind now and her +state of mind the year before. She was not indifferent now, she was +happy and things mattered in a wholesome way. But Sally knew that Fox +had not opened the cream-colored house again; not since Henrietta's +wedding. He had not even made any preparations to open it. Sally was +watching that house, out of the corner of her eye, and she knew. What +an old slow poke he was, wasn't he? The winter was gone before she +knew it and it was almost Easter. Then, one afternoon, Charlie made +his appearance, suddenly and unexpectedly, and went up to see +Henrietta almost immediately. + +Sally was vaguely worried by this sudden appearance of Charlie, she +could not tell why. She had felt, all along, a great relief that he +had taken so readily to the Henrietta treatment and she had felt some +surprise at it. Having worried about it for an hour, she put it aside. +It would be time enough to worry when she knew there was something to +worry about. When that time did come, she would not have time to +worry, for she would probably be too busy doing something about it. +It was inaction that worried Sally, which is the case with most of us. +At any rate, Charlie was all right for the present. He had only gone +up to Henrietta's. Then Harry Carling came in: "J--j--just c--c--came +d--d--down t--to s--s--see H--H--Ho--orry, y--y--you kn--n--now, +S--S--Sally, f--f--for a m--m--min--n--nute." And Sally smiled and +shook hands with Harry and hastened to say--to save Horry the painful +experience of mentioning the matter--that he could go whenever he +wanted to, so far as she knew. And they went out together. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + + +John Upjohn Junior ran into the house just in time for supper. He was +so excited and his entrance was so precipitate that he almost collided +with his mother, who had just reached the foot of the stairs; and only +by the exercise of almost superhuman agility he managed to avoid that +catastrophe. It was just as well, for many reasons; the reason which +influenced John Junior being that such an accident was likely to +result, then and thereafter, in more damage to himself than to his +mother. + +He flung his cap down on the hall table with such violence that it +slid off and fell upon the floor; but he could not pick it up at the +moment because he was engaged in shedding his overcoat, which +immediately slipped off of his arms upon a chair. He began to speak at +once. + +"M--m--m--moth--ther!" he exclaimed explosively. "I--I--'v--ve--darn +it all!" + +Mrs. Upjohn rebuked her offspring mildly. "John, what is the matter +with you? Is your name Carling, that you can't speak without +stuttering so? And I should think you would do well to moderate your +language, at any rate when you speak to your mother. And you must +learn to come into the house less like a tornado. Come in quietly, +like a gentleman." + +John Junior gave a contemptuous grunt. "J--just been h--hearing the +Carlings talking. That's wh--why I can't talk 'n' wh--why I +st--st--stut--t--ter so. Gosh darn it! I mean hang it!" + +"Pick up your cap, John," Mrs. Upjohn commanded sternly. "And hang it, +if you will." This pun of Mrs. Upjohn's somewhat softened her stern +command. She could not help smiling. + +John kicked his cap out from behind the table and, picking it up, +threw it at the hat-rack, where it happened to catch and stick. He +began again. + +"I--I--I'v--ve g--g--got s--s--s--" + +"Suppose you go up and wash your face and hands," Mrs. Upjohn +suggested, "and come down to supper. The bell rang before you came in. +When you come down you may be able to talk intelligibly." + +So John Junior rushed upstairs and, after an incredibly short period, +during which we must suppose that he went through some sort of an +operation which he regarded as sufficient, he appeared again, slid +down the balusters like lightning, landed at the bottom with an +appalling thump, and ran into the dining-room. + +"Guess I can talk now," he announced, taking his chair by the back and +sliding it under him. "I was hurrying home, so's not to be late to +supper, when I came up behind the Carlings. They--Letty ain't here, is +she?" he added, looking about doubtfully. + +"No," Mrs. Upjohn replied. "You know that Letty won't come again for +more than a month." + +"Huh!" growled John Junior. "She will if she feels like it. Never can +tell when she'll be here. She's always here." + +Mrs. Upjohn was a little slow about taking anything in. She had been +puzzling over John's former speech and had just the full import of it. + +"Did you say the Carlings, John?" she asked. "I don't see how that can +be, for Harry's in Cambridge." + +"He ain't either," John replied amiably. "Don't you s'pose I'd know +those freaks? I guess I would." + +"Well," said Mrs. Upjohn doubtfully. + +"And they were talking together," John continued, "or trying to talk. +They didn't know I was behind 'em, and I kept still as I could so's I +could hear what they said. They ought to have an interpreter. But I +got most of it, and then I slid out for fear they'd see me. What d'you +s'pose they were talking about?" + +"I'm sure I don't know," said Mrs. Upjohn curiously. + +"What?" + +John kept his mother in suspense while he disposed of his mouthful. He +swallowed twice, then took a drink of water. At last he was ready and +he looked at his mother, suspending operations for that purpose. + +"Charlie Ladue's a gambler," he announced abruptly. + +"What!" Mrs. Upjohn exclaimed. But she was pleased in spite of +herself. What would Letty say to that? "Are you sure you heard it +right?" + +"'Course I'm sure." + +"Well, John, I'm grieved to hear it. You must be careful not to talk +about it." + +"'Course I won't talk about it. I'll stop now if you want me to." + +"No," said Mrs. Upjohn judicially. "No, I think you ought to tell me +all you heard. How long has it been going on and where does Charlie +go?" + +So John Junior retailed at some length all that he had heard, rather +to the neglect of his supper. Certain important details were lacking +and he had to fill them in from his imaginings, which were rather +defective as to the points under discussion. + +"Well," said Mrs. Upjohn, when the recital and the supper were both +finished, "I think somebody ought to be told. I don't just like to +tell Sally, but she ought to know." + +"They didn't want to tell Sally either. Horry Carling's in her office +and he could tell her easy enough if he wanted to." + +"That's so," Mrs. Upjohn agreed. "I guess I'll tell Patty. I have a +pretty good idea where Charlie's money came from. Patty won't thank +me, but somebody ought to open her eyes. I'll go out there to-morrow. +I wonder if I couldn't find somebody who's going out. You look around, +early to-morrow, before school, and see if you can't find somebody +that's going and send him up here. There's no need to hire a horse, +for that." + +Accordingly the grocer's delivery wagon stopped at the house the next +forenoon, and the boy asked for Mrs. Upjohn. That lady came to the +door, looking a little puzzled. It seemed that John had-- + +Mrs. Upjohn laughed. "And he's gone to school," she said. "I didn't +mean that he should ask you." She laughed again. "But I don't know why +I shouldn't go in a grocery wagon. It's perfectly respectable." + +"Yes, ma'am," the boy replied, grinning. "And it's a very nice wagon, +almost new, and it's very comfortable." + +Patty was sitting at her window when the grocer's wagon stopped at the +door and Mrs. Upjohn got out. + +"Mercy on us!" Patty exclaimed. "If there isn't Alicia Upjohn! She'll +break her neck. Come in a grocer's wagon! Alicia was always queer, but +there is a point beyond which--yes, there _is_ a point beyond which +she should not allow herself to go." And Miss Patty gasped faintly and +leaned back, and in a few minutes she heard Mrs. Upjohn at her door. + +That interview was painful to Patty, at least. Mrs. Upjohn was rather +pressed for time, as the grocer's boy could not wait more than fifteen +minutes. It is a little difficult to break unwelcome news gently in +fifteen minutes. It might have been difficult to break this particular +news, which was very unwelcome, even if there had been no time limit +set by a grocer's boy. But within ten minutes Mrs. Upjohn had Patty in +tears and protesting her belief in Charlie's innocence and exhibiting +all her characteristic obstinacy in the face of proof. Had not Charlie +been there that very morning to see her? He had just left, indeed, and +he had been as loving as the most exacting of doting aunts could wish. +Didn't Alicia suppose that she, Patty, would be able to detect any +signs of wrong-doing on his part? At which Alicia smiled and made a +reply which made Patty almost frantic and within the five minutes +which remained Patty had told Alicia that she would do well to mind +her own business and she wished she would go and never come near her +again. So, the fifteen minutes being almost up, Alicia went, with +what dignity she could summon. She met Doctor Beatty in the lower hall +and told him that he had better see to Patty, who seemed beside +herself. He went at once; and Mrs. Upjohn seized that opportunity to +climb into her seat beside the grocer's boy. + +Doctor Beatty was with Patty a long time and used every art he had--he +hadn't many, but he used all he had with a degree of patience that was +surprising--to quiet Patty, who needed quieting if ever anybody did. +He was more alarmed by that disturbance of Patty's than he would have +acknowledged; more than he had expected, he found, although he had +been in daily expectation of something of the kind. + +He found her muttering to herself and exclaiming brokenly. She looked +at him with wild eyes. "Go away!" she cried as he entered. "He's not, +I tell you. He never did!" + +"No," Doctor Beatty agreed calmly. "Certainly not. But there! You +don't want me to go away, Patty." He pulled up a chair and sat down. + +"Not that chair!" she cried. "Not that chair! That's the chair she sat +in--Alicia Upjohn. If you sit in it you'll say so, too. Take any +other, but not that one." + +"Oh, very well," he said. And he drew up another chair and sat down. +"Now, tell me what's the matter." + +At this Patty began to weep violently. Her sentences were broken, and +now and then she gave a loud cry that seemed to be wrung from her +heart. + +"Alicia oughtn't to have said it. She might have known how--that +I--how I would f-f--Oh!" She could not speak for a moment. "She just +wanted me to think that that was where my money went. She's a spiteful +thing. Oh, how could she? How could she? Cruel! Cruel!" Patty fell to +weeping again. She seemed to lose all control over herself. She rocked +to and fro and leaned so far over, in her new fit of crying, that +Doctor Beatty put out his hand to save her from falling. He was glad +to have her cry so. + +She seized his hand and pressed it and looked up at him appealingly, +her eyes raining tears. "Oh, Meriwether," she sobbed, "you don't think +he does, do you? Tell me that you don't." + +He looked down into those faded eyes. "Certainly I don't, Patty," he +answered gently. Out of the pity which he felt for her, he may have +pressed her hand a little. He had but the faintest idea what she was +talking about. + +Patty flushed and relaxed her hold upon his hand. "You are a +c-c-comfort, Meriwether," she said more calmly. "It is a great deal to +know that I have one friend, at least, who understands me. I--I--have +so few, Meriwether!" She began to sob again. "S-so f-f-few, and I used +to have so so many!" + +"Cry quietly as much as you like, Patty. It will do you good." + +He made a slight movement, at which Patty cried out. + +"Don't go! Don't go yet!" She put out her hand blindly, as if to stop +him. + +"I'll stay until you are yourself again. Never fear." He sighed +faintly. + +It was a new role for Doctor Beatty, but he played it better than +would have been expected. Patty turned to the window and he heard the +sound of sobbing steadily for some time. At last the sound ceased. She +was sitting with her chin resting on her hand, which held her wet +handkerchief crumpled up into a tight ball; and she was looking out +through her tears, but seeing nothing, and she seemed to have +difficulty in breathing. + +"He's such a good boy--to me!" she said, without turning. "Such a good +boy! I am so fond of him that it almost breaks my heart to have +anybody say--say such things. How can they? How can they have the +heart?" She gave a single sob. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + + +Sally sat by her window in the office of John Hazen, Inc., looking +absently out of it. Doctor Beatty was talking to her earnestly, in low +tones, and she was serious and sober, listening intently. + +"Mrs. Upjohn," he was saying,--"thrifty soul!--came out to Sanderson's +this morning with the grocer's boy"--Sally chuckled suddenly, in spite +of her seriousness, but stopped as suddenly--"and went up to see +Patty. I'd like," he interrupted himself to say emphatically, "to see +every visitor of suspicious character required to show cause for +seeing the patients. Yes," he nodded in reply to a questioning look of +Sally's, "Patty is a patient. There's no doubt about that, I'm afraid. +And Mrs. Upjohn is a suspicious character. There is no doubt about +that either. Oh, yes, well-meaning, perhaps; even probably. But she +should not have been allowed to see Patty. I consider Patty's +condition--er--ticklish. Distinctly ticklish." + +Sally was surprised. "What do you mean? How is her condition +ticklish?" + +"Mentally," he replied. + +Sally turned to Doctor Beatty with a start and looked him straight in +the eyes. She wanted to see just what he meant. Then she shuddered. + +"I hope not," she said. + +"Well, we won't think of it. We are doing our best. But Mrs. Upjohn +succeeded in upsetting her completely in a very few minutes. I was +afraid, at first, that the mischief was done. Oh, it wasn't. She came +back all right. I couldn't make her tell me what Mrs. Upjohn had said, +but, picking up a thread here and there, I judged that Charlie had +been misbehaving himself somehow. I couldn't find out just how. I am +sorry to add another log to your load, Sally, but I thought that you +would be glad to be told of what seems to be common report. I know +that I would." + +"I am," she said. "I'm glad and sorry, too. But I'm greatly obliged to +you." She was silent for some little time, looking out and thinking +hard. "Do you know what kind of misbehavior it is?" she asked. "I'm +pretty familiar with several kinds," she added, with a hard little +laugh. "Don't be afraid to tell me the truth if you know it." + +Doctor Beatty shook his head. "I don't know it. It seems to be +connected with Patty's money." + +"I have been afraid of it, but it has been impossible to get hold of +anything definite," replied Sally gravely. "Even you aren't telling me +anything definite, although I believe you would if you knew it." + +He nodded. "You may be sure I would, Sally." + +"It is really curious how hard it is for people to find out what +concerns them most nearly," she continued. "Everybody is most +considerate of one's feelings." She gave another hard little laugh. +"I've not much doubt that almost everybody in town, excepting +Charlie's relatives and near friends,--if he has any,--has known of +this for a long time. It would have been the part of kindness to tell +me." + +"If it had been more than mere rumor," Doctor Beatty agreed, "it would +have been. I understand," he went on with a quiet smile, "that that +was Mrs. Upjohn's idea in telling Patty. She considered the rumor +verified. Her motive seems to have been good, but the method adopted +was bad; very bad. It's difficult, at best." + +Sally was silent again for some time. "Poor Patty!" she murmured. +"It's hard on her. If she has lost money in that way I must pay her +back." + +Doctor Beatty made no reply. Sally had not said it to him. + +"I believe," she said, turning to him, "that I know how I can find out +all about it--from a trustworthy source," she added, smiling gravely, +"as Miss Lambkin would put it." + +The doctor muttered impatiently under his breath. Letty Lambkin! But +he had done his errand, for which service Sally thanked him again. + +Doctor Beatty had been gone but a few minutes when Horry Carling came +in. He nodded pleasantly to Sally and was taking off his overcoat. + +"Horry," said Sally suddenly, "what has Charlie been doing?" + +Horry stopped, his coat hanging by the arms and his mouth open, and +looked at her. He was very much startled. + +"Wh--wh--what?" he asked at last. + +"I asked you what Charlie has been doing. What mischief has he been up +to? I am pretty sure he has been misbehaving himself since he has been +in college. How? Has he been in bad company?" + +"W--w--well, y--y--yes," Horry stammered, getting rather red, "I +th--th--think h--he h--h--has." + +"Do you mean women, Horry?" + +Horry's face went furiously red at that question. "N--n--n--no,"--he +was in such a hurry to say it that he was longer than usual about +it,--"n--n--n--noth--th--thing of th--th--that k--k--kind, +th--th--that I kn--n--now of. G--g--g--gam--m--" + +"Gambling, Horry?" Sally asked the question calmly, as if she merely +wanted to know. She did want to know, very much, but not merely. +Knowing was the first step. + +"Y--y--yes," Horry answered. He seemed very much relieved. "H--h--he +has g--g--gam--m--mbled almost ev--v--ver s--s--since h--he's +b--b--been th--th--there," he added. And he went on in as much haste +as he could manage, which was not so very much. Neither he nor Harry +had been in Charlie's confidence. Most of the fellows didn't care a +rap, of course, and didn't pay attention; but--but Harry and he had +cared and--and--they had--and Horry got very red again and stopped in +confusion. + +Sally smiled upon him. "Thank you for caring, Horry," she said +gently. "Was that what you seemed to have on your mind all last +summer? I thought you wanted to tell me something." + +He nodded. + +"I wonder why you didn't. I should have been grateful." + +"C--c--couldn't b--bear to. We d--d--did t--tell D--D--Dick. +C--c--came d--d--down on p--p--purpose. J--j--just b--bef--f--fore he +g--g--got m--married. I s--s--s'pose he f--f--forg--got a--ab--b--bout +it." + +"He must have," sighed Sally. "It isn't like Dick. Now, if you will +tell me all you know, I will promise not to forget about it." + +Accordingly, Horry unburdened his soul of the whole story, so far as +he knew it, and Sally listened in silence, only nodding now and then. +What was there to be said? Horry was grateful for her listening and +for her silence and he stuttered less as he went on. + +"There!" he concluded. "N--now you kn--n--now all I d--do. I'm +p--p--pumped dry, Sally, and I'm g--glad to g--g--get it off my +m--mind." + +"Thank you," said she; and she relapsed into silence and fell to +looking out again. + +Horry sat still, waiting for her to say something more; but she did +not and he got up, at last. + +"If y--you h--have n--noth--th--thing more t--to ask me, S--Sally--" + +Sally turned toward him quickly. "Horry," she said, interrupting him, +"do you know where Charlie goes--to gamble?" It was an effort for her +to say it. + +"Y--yes," he replied, blushing furiously again, but not avoiding her +eyes. "I've b--b--been th--there." + +"Oh, Horry! And aren't you ashamed?" + +"N--n--not es--s--specially. O--only w--w--went once, t--to l--l--look +on, you know. Th--thought I'd l--like to s--see the p--p--place once. +I didn't p--play." Horry shook his head. "I h--haven't g--g--got the +b--bug. Kn--n--new I w--was safe." + +Sally seemed to be puzzled. "The bug? Do you mean--" + +"The f--f--fever, Sally," he answered, laughing at her bewilderment; +"the sickness--disease of ga--ga--gambling. It's j--j--just as much a +dis--s--ease as the small-pox. Or c--con--sumption. Th--that's +b--b--better, bec--c--cause it lasts l--l--onger and it g--gets +w--w--worse and w--worse." + +Sally sighed. "I suppose it is like that. It must be." She looked at +him thoughtfully for so long a time that Horry began to get red once +more and to fidget on his chair. "There must be a cure for it if we +could only find it," she murmured. "Horry," she said suddenly, "do you +suppose Harry would be willing to keep track of Charlie's +movements--without Charlie's knowing, I mean? For a while?" + +"Kn--n--now he w--would." + +"And would he telegraph me when Charlie goes into that place +again--and just as soon as he can find out? I ought to know as early +in the evening as possible--by six or seven o'clock." + +"H--he w--will if he c--c--can f--f--find out in t--t--time. +W--w--wouldn't always b--be s--so easy. I'll t--take c--care of that, +Sally." + +"Thank you. I shall be very grateful to you both." + +Sally went out to Doctor Sanderson's the next afternoon. Fox saw her +coming and went to meet her. + +"How is Patty, Fox?" she asked. She jumped lightly out of the carriage +and stood beside him. + +He seemed distinctly disappointed at the question. "So that is what +you came for," he replied. "I hoped it might have had something to do +with me." He sighed. "Patty's all right, I think. Are you going up to +see her?" + +Sally shook her head. "I came to see you, Fox. I want to ask your +advice." + +"That changes the face of nature," he returned cheerfully. "Will you +come into the office--or anywhere else that you like." + +They went into Fox's office and he got her settled in a chair. +"That's the most generally comfortable chair. It's my consultation +chair. I want my patients to be as comfortable as possible before they +begin." + +Sally laughed a little. "Now, you sit down and put on your +professional expression." + +"It is not difficult to look sympathetic with you, in advance, Sally." + +"It is really a serious matter." She was silent for a moment. "Fox," +she said then abruptly, "Charlie has been gambling." + +"Yes." + +"You aren't surprised?" + +"No." + +"And he has used Patty's money, I don't doubt." + +"Yes." + +"_Fox!_" she cried impatiently. "Did you know all this before? If you +did, I think you might have told me." + +"No," he replied gently, "I did not know it. I only suspected it. You +had as much reason to suspect it as I had." + +Sally shook her head. "I didn't know all the circumstances--about +Patty's money, for instance. I'm afraid she gave it to him. I don't +know how much." + +"Neither do I." + +"I must find out and pay her." She was silent again, leaning her chin +on her hand and gazing at Fox. "How can I find out, Fox?" + +"I hardly know, Sally." He was silent, in his turn. "It's no use to +ask her, I suppose. You might ask Dick how much was--er--unaccounted +for." + +"I might." She nodded with satisfaction. "I will. I shall pay it back. +And I must stop Charlie's gambling. I've got to. I've thought and +thought--for a whole day." She laughed shortly. "I'm no nearer than I +was in half an hour. Oh, Fox, tell me how." + +He was looking at her with a great pity in his eyes. He should have +known better. Sally did not like to be pitied. "It's a problem, +Sally. I'm afraid you may not be able to stop it altogether--or +permanently." + +"I thought it might do if--but, perhaps I'd better not tell anybody +about it until it's done." + +"I commend that idea, in general," Fox replied, smiling, "although a +person should be perfectly frank with her lawyer and her physician. If +I can be of any assistance to you, please remember that nothing would +please me better. Those places are--wouldn't be easy for you to get +into. And, Sally, I should hate to think of your trying it. Can't I do +it?" + +Sally smiled at him in a way that he liked very much. "I have no idea +of trying to get in. And, Fox, how much do you know of those places, +as you call them?" + +"Not much, but I think I could probably get in." + +"Thank you, Fox. There is one thing that you can do and that is to +explain to me why Charlie does it. Or, I suppose I know why he does, +but explain this if you can. Why haven't I the same desire? I am my +father's daughter. Why shouldn't I want to gamble, too, instead of the +very idea of it filling me with disgust?" + +He sat for some time with a half smile on his lips, gazing at Sally +and saying nothing. Sally looked up and caught his eye and looked away +again. + +"Please tell me, Fox," she said. + +"A question of heredity, Sally! Heredity is a subject which I know +very little about. Nobody really knows much about it, for that matter. +A few experiments with peas and guinea-pigs, and, on the other hand, a +great deal of theorizing--which means a man's ideas of what ought to +happen, made to fit; or rather, the cases chosen to fit the ideas. And +neither helps us much when we come to apply them to such a case as +Charlie's. But do you really want me to tell you what I think? I'm no +authority and the whole thing is a matter of guesswork. You might +guess as well as I--or better." + +She nodded. "I should like, very much, to know." + +"Ah, so should I," he said. "If I only _knew_! I don't. But I will do +my best. Well, then, your father had rather a strong character--" + +"Oh, Fox!" she protested. + +"He did," he insisted. "Even you had to give in to him sometimes, and +you are the only one in your family who ever stood up against him--who +ever could have. He was lacking in the sense of right, and he had +depraved tastes, perhaps, but his tastes grew by indulgence. Your +mother--forgive me, Sally--has not as strong a character, in a way, but +her sense of right is strong. Perhaps her traditions are as strong." +There were some things which Fox did not know. If he had known all that +had passed in Mrs. Ladue's heart he might not have spoken so +confidently. "You have your mother's tastes,--irreproachable,--her +sense of right and your father's strength; a very excellent +combination." He laughed gently. "And both strengthened by your early +experience. A fiery furnace," he murmured, "to consume the dross." + +Sally got red and did not seem pleased. "Go on," she said. + +"Charlie got your father's tastes and your mother's lack of strength. +He seems to have no sense of right. He was most unfortunate. He didn't +get a square deal. But his very weakness gives me hope. He will have +to be watched, for he may break away at any time. There was no leading +your father, even in the way he wanted to go. He had to be under +strong compulsion--driven." + +"Did you ever drive him, Fox?" + +"Once," he answered briefly. "It was no fun." + +"I remember the time." She sighed and rose slowly. "Well--" + +Fox rose also. "Had enough of my preaching, Sally? I don't do it often +and I don't wonder you don't like it." + +She smiled at him gravely and gave him her hand. "I'm greatly obliged +to you, Fox. If you can help me I will ask you to. I promise you +that." + +He held her hand much longer than was at all necessary and he gazed +down at her with a longing which he could not hide. Not that he tried; +but she was not looking at him. + +"Promise me something else, Sally." + +Sally glanced up at him in surprise at his voice. "Anything that I can +do, of course," she said. + +The look in his eyes was very tender--and pitying, Sally thought. +"Marry me, Sally. Promise me that." + +It was sudden and unexpected, to be sure, but was there any reason why +the quick tears should have rushed to Sally's eyes and why she should +have looked so reproachfully at him? Ah, Doctor Sanderson, you have +made a mess of it now! Sally withdrew her hand quickly. + +"Oh, Fox!" she cried low, her eyes brimming. "How could you? How could +you?" + +He had hurt her somehow. God knew that he had not meant to. "Why, +Sally," he began, "I only wanted--" + +"That's just it," she said quickly; and she could say no more and she +bit her lip and turned and hurried out, leaving Fox utterly bewildered +and gazing after her as if he were paralyzed. + +Sally almost ran down the walk and, as she ran, she gave one sob. "He +was only sorry for me," she said to herself; "he only pitied me, and I +won't be pitied. He only wanted--to help me bear my burdens. Dear +Fox!" she thought, with a revulsion of feeling. "He is always +so--wanting to help me bear my burdens. Dear Fox! But he _shall_ be +true--to her," she added fiercely. "Does he think I will help him to +be untrue? Oh, Fox, dear!" + +And, biting her lip again, cruelly, she got into the waiting +carriage. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + + +Mr. Gilfeather's saloon was not on Avenue C, in spite of the fact that +the Licensing Board tried to confine all institutions of the kind to +that historic boulevard. Mr. Gilfeather's saloon, to use his own +words, was a "high-toned and classy place." In consequence of that +fact and perhaps on the condition implied in the term, Mr. Gilfeather +was permitted to conduct his high-toned and classy place on a street +where he would have no competition. It was a little side street, +hardly more than a court, and there was no church within several +hundred feet and no school within several thousand. The little street +was called Gilfeather's Court, and not by its own name, which I have +forgotten; the narrow sidewalk from Main Street to Mr. Gilfeather's +door was well trodden; and that door was marked by day by a pair of +scraggy and ill-conditioned bay trees and by night by a modest light, +in addition. + +Mr. Gilfeather may have been grieved by the condition of the bay +trees, which were real trees, if trees which have their roots in +shallow tubs can be called real. At all events, he had resolved to add +to the classy appearance of his place, and to that end he had +concluded arrangements with the Everlasting Decorating Company for +certain palms and ferns, duly set in tubs of earth,--the earth was not +important except as it helped in the illusion,--which ferns and palms +were warranted not to be affected by heat, dryness, or the fumes of +alcohol, and to require no care except an occasional dusting. The men +of the Everlasting Decorating Company had just finished the artistic +disposal of these palms and ferns--as ordered--about the little +mahogany tables, giving to each table a spurious air of seclusion, and +had gone away, smiling and happy, having been treated by Mr. +Gilfeather, very properly, to whatever they liked. Mr. Gilfeather +wandered now among his new possessions, changing this palm by a few +inches and that fern by the least fraction of an inch and, altogether, +lost in admiring contemplation. + +What if the glossy green leaves were nothing but varnished green +paper? What if the stems were nothing but fibre with a covering of the +varnished paper here and there? What else were the real stems made of +anyway? And the light in the interior of Mr. Gilfeather's was rather +dim, having to filter in through his small front windows after passing +the tall blank wall of the building opposite, and--well--his +admiration was not undeserved, on the whole. He came back and leaned +against the bar. The bar was by no means the feature of the room. It +was small and modest, but of solid San Domingo mahogany. Mr. +Gilfeather did not want his customers to drink at the bar. He +preferred that they should sit at the tables. + +"How is it, Joe?" he asked, turning to the white-coated barkeeper. +"Pretty good, eh?" + +The silent barkeeper nodded. + +"Switch on the lights over in that corner," Mr. Gilfeather ordered, +"and let's see how she looks." Joe stopped wiping his glasses long +enough to turn to a row of buttons. "That's good. Put 'em all on." Joe +put 'em all on. "That's better. Now," turning to wave his hand upward +over the bar, "light her up." + +At his command there appeared on the wall over the bar, a large +painting of a lady clad chiefly in a leopard skin and luxuriant golden +hair and a charming smile. The lady was made visible by electric +lights, screened and carefully disposed, and seemed to diffuse her +presence impartially over the room. Unfortunately, there was nobody to +admire but Mr. Gilfeather and Joe, the barkeeper, and there is some +doubt about Joe's admiration; but she did not seem to mind and she +continued to smile. As they looked, the outer door opened silently and +closed again. Mr. Gilfeather and Joe, warned by the sudden draught, +turned. + +"Hello, Ev," said Mr. Gilfeather. "What do you think of it?" He waved +his hand inclusively. "Just got 'em." + +Everett inspected the palms and ferns solemnly. "Very pretty. Very +good. It seems to be good, strong paper and well varnished. I don't +see any imitation rubber plants. Where are your rubber plants?" + +"Eh?" asked Mr. Gilfeather, puzzled. "Don't you like it? They could +have furnished rubber plants, I s'pose. Think I ought to have 'em?" + +"Nothing of the kind is complete without rubber plants," Everett +replied seriously. + +Mr. Gilfeather looked at him doubtfully. "Don't you like 'em, Ev?" he +asked. It was almost a challenge. Mr. Gilfeather was nettled and +inclined to be hostile. If Everett was making fun of him--well, he had +better look out. + +"It's hardly up to your standard, Tom," he answered. He indicated the +lady in the leopard skin--and in her own--who still smiled sweetly +down at them. "After I have gone to the trouble of selecting paintings +for you, it--er--would be natural to expect that you would consult me +before adding a lot of cheap paper flowers to your decorations. I +should have been happy to advise you." + +"Nothing cheap about 'em," growled Mr. Gilfeather. "Had to have +something in here." + +"What's the matter with real palms and ferns?" + +"What would they cost, I should like to know? And how would I keep 'em +looking decent? Look at them bay trees out there." + +"Those bay trees do look a little dejected," Everett agreed, smiling. +"I should employ a good gardener to care for them and for your real +palms and ferns. Our gardener, I am sure, could--" + +"I don't s'pose your gardener'd do it for me now, would he?" + +Everett smiled again. "Hardly. But he's not the only one in town. It +might cost more, Tom, but it would pay, believe me. Your bar, now, is +the real thing and in good taste. You ought to have things in +keeping." + +Mr. Gilfeather emitted a growl and looked almost as dejected as his +bay trees. Everett laughed and moved toward a door beside the bar. + +"Anybody up there yet, Tom?" he asked. + +Mr. Gilfeather shook his head. "I'll send 'em up." Everett opened the +door and they heard his steps going up the stairs. "Hell!" said Mr. +Gilfeather. + +Joe smiled sympathetically, but said nothing. + +It was getting towards noon and customers began to straggle in singly +or by twos and threes. Certain of these customers were warned by Mr. +Gilfeather's thumb, pointing directly upward, and vanished. The others +had chosen their favorite tables and had been waited upon by two +white-aproned and silent youths, who had appeared mysteriously from +nowhere. The room gradually filled and gradually emptied again, but +there was no sign of Everett and his friends. Mr. Gilfeather went to +his dinner and came back a little after two o'clock. The high-toned +and classy place showed few customers present. It was a slack time. +Two men, at a table behind a mammoth paper fern, were drinking whiskey +and water and talking earnestly; another, hidden by a friendly palm, +was consuming, in a leisurely manner, a hot Tom and Jerry; another, +tilting his chair back in the far corner, read the early afternoon +paper and sipped his ale; and one of our white-aproned friends +vanished through the door beside the bar with a tray containing five +different mixtures of the most modern varieties, of which I do not +know the names. Mr. Gilfeather looked about on his despised +decorations and sighed; and the outer door opened again and admitted +Miss Sally Ladue. + +Mr. Gilfeather half turned, in response to a smothered exclamation +from Joe, turned again, and cast a startled glance up at the smiling +lady over the bar. + +"Switch 'em off, Joe, quick!" and Joe switched 'em off, leaving the +lady with her leopard skin in murky darkness, which, under the +circumstances, was the best place for her. But he had not been quick +enough. + +Sally's color was rather high as she stood just inside the door. +Nothing but palms and ferns--very lifelike--met her eyes; nothing, +that is, except a very chaste bar of San Domingo mahogany and the +persons of Joe and Mr. Gilfeather. The lady in the leopard skin no +longer met her eyes, for that lady had been plunged in gloom, as we +are aware. Sally, too, was aware of it. Mr. Gilfeather had a guilty +consciousness of it as he advanced. + +"Good afternoon, Miss Ladue," he said, somewhat apprehensively. "I +hope nothing is going wrong with my daughter?" + +"No, Mr. Gilfeather," replied Sally, hastening to reassure him. "She +is doing very well, and I expect that she will graduate well up in her +class." + +Mr. Gilfeather was evidently relieved to hear it. + +"I came to consult you," continued Sally; "to ask your advice." She +looked about her. The room was very quiet, much quieter than her own +room at school, for the two men drinking whiskey and water had stopped +their talking, upon Sally's entrance. It had been no more than a low +hum of voices, at most, and the man with his Tom and Jerry made no +more noise than did the man sipping his ale and reading his paper. +Sally thought that she would like to have Patty glance in there for a +minute. + +"Well," said Mr. Gilfeather slowly, "perhaps I can find a place where +we can talk without interruption. Will you--" + +"Why can't we sit down behind some of these lovely palms?" asked Sally +hastily. + +Mr. Gilfeather looked at her quickly. He was sensitive on the subject +of palms and ferns--everlasting ones, furnished by the Everlasting +Decorating Company. But Sally seemed unconscious. His suspicions were +unfounded. He nodded and led the way, and Sally followed, penetrating +the seclusion of three of the customers, to a table in another corner. +Sally sat down and Mr. Gilfeather sat opposite. + +He hesitated. "I suppose you wouldn't do me the honor to take +something with me, now?" he asked. Sally smiled and shook her head. "A +glass of lemonade or a cup of tea? I can have tea in a minute--good +tea, too, Miss Ladue." + +"Why, thank you, Mr. Gilfeather. I can't see any reason why I +shouldn't take a cup of tea with you. I should like it very much." + +He leaned back, crooked his finger at a white-aproned youth, and gave +his order. One would not imagine, from any sign that the youth gave, +that it was not quite the usual order. As Mr. Gilfeather had promised, +in less than a minute it was on the table: tea and sugar and sliced +lemon and cream. + +"We have a good many orders for tea," remarked Mr. Gilfeather, in +answer to Sally's look of surprise. "I try to have the best of every +kind." + +Sally helped herself to a lump of sugar and a slice of lemon. "I must +confess that I didn't suppose you ever had an order for tea." + +"Yes," he replied thoughtfully. "But we don't often have customers +like you, Miss Ladue. It is an honor which I appreciate." + +"But," Sally interposed, "you don't know, yet, what my errand is." + +"It don't make no difference what your errand is," said Mr. +Gilfeather; "your visit honors me. Whatever you ask my advice about, +I'll give you my best and thank you for coming to me." + +Sally looked at him with a smile in her eyes. "What I wanted to see +you about, Mr. Gilfeather, was gambling. Do--" + +"What?" asked the astonished Mr. Gilfeather, with a penetrating look +at Sally. "You ain't going to--" + +Sally laughed outright, attracting to herself the attention of the two +whiskey-and-waters. Tom and Jerry was consumed and had just gone out. + +"No," she said merrily, "I'm not going to. I only meant that I wanted +to see--to know whether you knew about it." + +"Whether I knew about it!" exclaimed Mr. Gilfeather, more puzzled than +ever. He glanced up fearfully as a slight noise came down to them from +above. "I never play, if you mean that. Of course, I know something +about it. Any man in my business can't help knowing something about +it." + +"Well," Sally resumed, "I wonder whether it would be possible for--for +me, for instance, to get in; to see the inside of a place where it is +going on. I don't know anything about it and I didn't know anybody to +ask but you." + +Mr. Gilfeather cast another apprehensive glance at the ceiling. Then +he looked down again and gazed thoughtfully at Sally out of half-shut +eyes. + +"I should think," he observed slowly, "that it would be difficult; +very difficult, indeed. I should say that it might be impossible. What +particular place did you have in mind? That is, if it's a proper +question." + +"That's just the trouble," Sally replied, frowning. "I don't know, +although I can find out. I didn't think of that. It's a place where +college boys go, sometimes," she added, flushing slowly. + +"In Boston, eh?" Mr. Gilfeather's brow cleared and his eyes opened +again. The color in Sally's face had not escaped him. "It's my advice, +Miss Ladue, that you give it up. I don't know anything about them +Boston places--I would say those places--or I'd offer to go for you. +Perhaps I can guess--" + +"It's my brother," said Sally simply. + +Mr. Gilfeather nodded. "I'd heard it or I shouldn't have spoken of +it," he said gently. "I'm very sorry, Miss Ladue. Nobody else shall +hear of it from me." + +"I'm afraid that will make very little difference," she remarked, "but +I thank you." + +Mr. Gilfeather was silent for some moments while Sally sipped her +tea. + +"Haven't you got any gentleman friend," he asked at last, "who would +do your errand for you?" + +"I don't know who would be the most likely to--to know the way about," +she returned. "I can't very well ask for bids." She smiled quickly. +"If I knew the best person to ask I would ask him." + +"That you would," Mr. Gilfeather murmured admiringly. "You ain't +afraid. Do you want me to suggest?" he asked. + +"I hoped you would be willing to." + +"Well, how would Everett Morton do? I guess he knows his way about. I +always understood that he did." Mr. Gilfeather smiled furtively. The +matter of the palms rankled. + +Sally looked reflective. "If he is the best man to do it I'll ask +him." She sighed. She felt a strange repugnance to asking him--for +that service. She had finished her tea and Mr. Gilfeather had finished +his. "Well," she said, rising slowly, "I thank you for your advice, +Mr. Gilfeather,--and for your tea," she added, "which I have enjoyed." + +"The honor is mine," returned Mr. Gilfeather gallantly. + +Sally smiled and bowed and was on her way to the door. "Miss Ladue," +called Mr. Gilfeather. She stopped and turned. "I wish you would be +kind enough to favor me with a bit of advice, too." + +"Gladly," said Sally. "What about?" + +Mr. Gilfeather came close and spoke low. "It's these palms and ferns. +I got 'em this morning. Might I ask your opinion of 'em?" + +"Surely, they're very nice and attractive," said Sally doubtfully. + +He remarked the doubt. "You don't really think that. Now, do you? +Wouldn't real ones be more--more high-toned, as you might say? I was +advised that--paper flowers, he called 'em--weren't in keeping. Would +you advise me to take 'em out and put in real ones?" + +"Oh," Sally answered quickly, "I can't advise you about that. Real +ones would be more expensive to keep in order, but they would be +better. Don't you think so yourself?" + +Mr. Gilfeather sighed. "These'll have to come out," he said sadly. +"They'll have to come out, I guess. It's hard luck that I didn't think +of asking before I got 'em. But I'm much obliged to you, Miss Ladue." + +Sally nodded again and went out. The door had hardly shut behind her +when the man who had been sipping his ale and reading his paper +emerged from his corner hastily and put out after her. It was Eugene +Spencer. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + + +It was almost time for the theatres to be out. Indeed, the first few +men were coming out of one, hurriedly putting on their coats as they +came. As the doors swung open the beginnings of the subdued roar of a +slowly moving crowd came out. A man and a girl who were walking +briskly past heard it. + +"Hurry, Jane!" exclaimed the girl anxiously. "I didn't know it was so +late." + +Jane muttered something about crowds, but it was nothing very +articulate. To tell the truth, Jane was nervous and he did not know +just what he was saying. Neither did Sally. She did not listen, for +that matter, for she was wholly occupied with her errand. They +quickened their pace until they were almost running, and the noise was +gradually left behind. Neither of them spoke; and when they had turned +the first corner they both sighed and the pace slackened to that brisk +walk again. + +Sally had not had to overcome her repugnance to asking Everett, and +Mr. Gilfeather's feeling of triumph was a little premature. When Jane +had overtaken her, a few steps from Mr. Gilfeather's door and had +asked whether he could not help her, she had yielded to her impulse +and had answered that he probably could if he would. And Jane had +confessed, getting a little red,--who would not have got a little red, +having to make such a confession to the girl he was in love with, even +yet?--he had confessed that he was qualified sufficiently for the +expedition, for he had been in number seven on two occasions, on the +first of which he had played. But, he added, he had not lost +much--fortunately for him, perhaps, he had not won--and he had had no +desire to play again, although he had felt some curiosity to see +others do it. It was worth while, for once, to see that side of human +nature. Sally began to tell him why she wanted to go, but he stopped +her. + +"I know, Sally," he said gently. "You don't have to tell me. I am glad +to be of any assistance at all." And Sally had thanked him and had +liked him better at that moment than she ever had before. It was a +pity that Jane could not know that. + +Two days later Harry Carling had telegraphed; and here they were, just +turning the last corner and finding themselves in the Street. I don't +give the name of the street for reasons which must be obvious enough, +but, irrespective of the name, Sally's heart beat a little faster when +they turned into it. Jane's heart would have beat faster if it had not +already accelerated its beat quite as much as it could with safety. He +was finding it in his mouth most of the time and had to swallow +frequently and hard to keep it down where it belonged. As for speaking +calmly and naturally, that was out of the question. That was enough to +account for his prolonged silence. When he did make the attempt his +voice was high and shrill and he hesitated and could not say what he +wanted to. + +It was a quiet street, entirely deserted at that end, and it was lined +with dignified old houses which echoed the sound of their footfalls +until their coming seemed the invasion of an army. + +"Mercy!" Sally cried nervously, under her breath. "What a racket we're +making!" And the sound of her voice reverberated from side to side. +The army had begun to talk. That would never do. "Silence in the +ranks!" thought Sally; and was surprised that her thought was not +echoed, too. Jane began to laugh excitedly, but stopped at once. + +The street was very respectable, anybody would have said; eminently +respectable. It even seemed dignified. There is no doubt that there +had been a time when it had been both respectable and dignified and +had not contented itself with seeming so. The houses had been built at +that time and presented their rather severe brick fronts to the +street, giving an effect that was almost austere. They were absolutely +without ornament, excepting, perhaps, in their inconspicuous but +generous entrances. Altogether, Sally thought the effect was +distinctly pleasing. She would have been glad to live in one of these +houses; for example, in that one with the wide recessed doorway with +the fan over it. It was dark now; dark as a pocket. Not a light showed +at any of the windows, although a dim one--a very dim one--burned over +the door. The people must be all in bed at this seasonable hour, like +good custom-abiding people. There might have been a special curfew at +nine o'clock for this special street. + +"That is the house," whispered Jane, pointing with a hand which was +not very steady to the very house that Sally had been contemplating +with admiration. It was not light enough for Sally to note the shaking +of his hand. + +The announcement was a shock to Sally. "What?" she asked +incredulously. "You don't mean the house with the dim light over the +door--the one with the fan!" Jane nodded assent. "Why," Sally +continued, "there isn't a light in the house, so far as I can see." + +Jane laughed. His laugh echoed strangely and he stopped suddenly. +"There are plenty of lights, just the same. What did you expect? A +general illumination--with a band?" + +"Something more than a dark house," she replied, smiling a little. "It +looks as if they had all gone to bed." + +He shook his head. "They haven't gone to bed." Their pace had +slackened and had become no more than an aimless saunter. Now they +stopped entirely, almost opposite the house. + +"Well," said Sally inquiringly, "what now?" + +Jane breathed a long sigh. "I--I suppose i--it's up to me," he replied +hesitatingly, "to go in." He spoke with very evident regret; then he +laughed shortly. + +"Don't you want to?" asked Sally curiously. + +"No, I don't, Sally," he rejoined decidedly. "I certainly don't. But +I want to help you, and therefore I do. It would be hard to make you +understand, perhaps, and--" + +"I think I understand, Eugene," she interrupted gently, "and you +needn't think that I'm not grateful." + +"I don't feel as confident as I ought," he said apologetically, "that +I shall be successful. What if Charlie won't come?" + +"You can tell him," she replied firmly, "that I shall wait here until +he does come. It isn't likely that I shall be put off the street." + +Spencer did not feel so sure of that as he would have liked to feel, +but he did not say so to Sally. "That brings up another question," he +said. "Where shall you wait? And what will you do--in case I am longer +than you expect? I confess that I am uneasy about you--waiting around +the streets--alone." + +"You needn't be," she returned. "Of course," she admitted, "it won't +be pleasant. I don't expect it to be. But I shall be all right, I'm +sure." + +He sighed once more and looked at her. "I wish I felt as sure of it as +you do. But I'll go in--or try to." He looked the street up and down. +"You'd better get in the shadow, somewhere; well in the shadow. Their +doorman has sharp eyes. That's what he's there for," he added in +response to her questioning look. "Perhaps you'd better not be within +view when I go in. We'll walk back a bit and I'll leave you there." + +She assented and they walked back until they were out of sight from +the door with the dim light burning over it. Then Spencer left her and +walked rapidly toward the house. He looked back two or three times. +She was standing just where he had left her: close beside a woebegone +tree with an iron tree-guard around it. It was a forgotten relic of +other days. Her motionless figure could hardly be distinguished from +the tree as she leaned against the guard. He opened the outer door of +the vestibule. A second dim light was burning here, just enabling him +to see the push-button. With a heart palpitating somewhat and with +that horrible, gone feeling in the region of his diaphragm, he rang +the bell. The outer door closed noiselessly behind him and two +electric lights flashed out brilliantly before him. The inner door, +which gave entrance to the house, was a massive thing, studded with +iron bolts, like the gate of a castle; and at the level of his face +was a little grated window or door of solid wood within the larger, +iron-studded door. In response to his ring the inner door did not +open, but the little grated window did, framing, behind iron bars, the +impassive face of a gigantic negro, who scrutinized Spencer with the +eye of experience and, having completed his inspection, nodded +solemnly. The little grated window closed and the electric lights went +out suddenly; and the door opened before him and closed again behind +him, leaving everything in readiness for the next comer; and leaving +Sally standing alone beside that woebegone tree without. + +There was nothing unusual about the appearance of the house if we +except the iron-studded door and its guardian. The negro, who was very +large and very black, had resumed his seat upon a stool by the door. +He glanced at Eugene without interest and immediately looked away +again and seemed to resume his thoughts about nothing at all. Eugene +glanced hastily about. The house might have served as a type of the +modest dwellings of the older school. The doors from the lower hall +were all shut and the rooms to which they led were empty, so far as he +knew, or were used as storerooms, perhaps. Everything was very quiet +and he and the gigantic negro might have been the only occupants of +the house. Before him was the staircase and he roused himself and +mounted to the floor above, walked a few steps along a hall exactly +similar to the first, parted the heavy double hangings over a doorway, +and entered. + +He found himself in the front room of two which were connected by +folding doors, which were now rolled back. The room in the rear was +but dimly lighted, as no one seemed to be interested in the roulette +table which stood there, although several men stood about the +sideboard or were coming or going. The top of that sideboard held a +large variety of bottles and anybody present was at liberty to help +himself to whatever he preferred; but, although there was a good deal +of drinking, there was no drunkenness. Drinking to excess was not +conducive to success in play; and the men, most of them, seemed to be +regular patrons of the place. Eugene's gaze wandered back toward the +front of the house. + +To his right, as he entered, was the centre of interest. Indeed, it +seemed to be the only point of interest. The windows had heavy double +hangings before them, which accounted for Sally's impression of the +house. Directly before these windows and taking up almost the whole +width of the room stood a large table. About this table were seated a +dozen men or more, old, middle-aged, and young, every one of them so +intent on the play that they noticed nothing else. About the seated +men, in turn, were other men, two or three deep, equally intent, +standing and carefully noting upon large cards which they held every +card that the dealer exposed from the box before him. I regret that I +am unable to explain more fully the mysteries of this system of +scoring. In some way, which I do not understand, this method of +keeping score was supposed to give some clue to the way in which the +cards were running on that particular night and to aid each scorer in +the development of his "system," which, as the merest tyro knows, will +inevitably break the bank sooner or later;--usually later. The house +supplied the score cards. They found the method a very satisfactory +one. + +By this time Eugene's heart had almost ceased its palpitation and he +could look about with some approach to calmness at the group around +the table. Curiously, he scanned the faces of the players. At the turn +of the table, to the right of the dealer, sat an elderly man, perhaps +nearing sixty, with a singularly peaceful countenance. He won or lost +with the same indifference, only putting up a hand, now and then, to +stroke his white mustache and glancing, sympathetically, Spencer +thought, at the only really young men playing. There were two of them +who were hardly more than boys, and this man seemed to be more +interested in their play than in his own. At the dealer's left sat a +man who might be anywhere from thirty-five to fifty, with a +clean-shaven and handsome clean cut face. He looked as distinguished +in his way as the elderly man of the white mustache and the peaceful +countenance did in his. He smiled as quietly when he lost as when he +won. Both men were very attractive and not the type of man you would +expect to find in such a place. The other men there were not +attractive. They were of no particular age and of no distinction +whatever; the type of man that you pass on the street a hundred times +a day without a second glance--if you have given the first. There was +a perennial frown upon their foreheads and their lips were tightly +closed and they were intent on nothing but their play. Altogether, the +less said about those men, the better. + +The first of the two young men mentioned was sitting at the turn of +the table diagonally opposite the elderly man and nearest Eugene, so +that his face was not visible. But his shoulders were expressive and +he was beginning to fidget in his chair; and when, once or twice, he +half turned his head Eugene could see the growing expression of +disgust upon his face. As the young fellow looked more and more +disgusted, the elderly man smiled the more and stroked his white +mustache and gazed at him, to the neglect of his cards, and once in a +while he glanced at the other young fellow. + +That other young fellow, as we know, was Charlie Ladue. He sat +directly opposite the dealer. His face was flushed with the excitement +of play, to which he was giving all his attention. Eugene could not +see his eyes, which never wandered from the straight line in front of +him, from his cards to the dealer; but he could imagine the feverish +brightness that shone from them. He wondered how the dealer liked the +constant contemplation of that sight; how it pleased him that he could +not look up without encountering those eyes of Charlie Ladue fixed +upon him. + +The dealer seemed to like it well enough; he seemed to like it +uncommonly well. Spencer transferred his gaze from Charlie to the +dealer. There was nothing interesting about Charlie--to him, at least; +nothing sad in his present situation except as it concerned Sally. The +dealer was different, and Eugene found himself fascinated in watching +him. + +It was impossible to guess his age. He might have been anywhere from +forty to sixty and must have been a handsome man when he was +young--whenever that was. He was a good-looking man yet, but there was +something sinister about him. His face was deeply lined, but not with +the lines of age or pain or of contentment or good nature. The lines +in a man's face will tell their story of his life to him who can read +them. Insensibly, they tell their story to him who cannot read them. +Eugene could not; but he felt the story and was at once fascinated and +repelled. He could not take his eyes off that dealer's face; and the +longer he looked the more strongly he was impressed with a vague +recollection. It might be only of a dream, or of a dim resemblance to +some one that he knew. He had the curious sense, which comes to all of +us on occasion, of having lived that very moment in some previous +incarnation, perhaps of knowing exactly what was going to happen next. +Not that anything in particular did happen. I would not willingly +raise expectations which must be disappointed. + +The dealer had always seemed to look at Charlie Ladue with interest; +with as much interest as he ever showed in anything--much more, +indeed, than he showed in anything or in anybody else. Charlie himself +had noted that, and although he never spoke,--at least, Charlie had +never heard him utter a word beyond what were absolutely necessary to +his duties,--there was something compelling in his eye which always +met Charlie's look as it was raised slowly from his cards, as if there +were some mysterious bond of fellowship between them. Rarely he had +smiled. But that was a mistake. It always made Charlie wish that he +hadn't. Charlie had not noticed, perhaps, that it was always on the +rare occasions when he won that the dealer had ventured upon that +faint smile which was so disagreeable. When he lost, which happened +more frequently,--very much more frequently,--the dealer expressed no +emotion whatever, unless a slight compression of his thin lips could +be called an expression of emotion. + +There was a stir among the persons about the table; among those +sitting and among those standing. The disgusted young fellow got up +quickly and one of the scorers as quickly took the chair he had left. +The boy breathed a deep sigh of relief as he passed close to Eugene. + +"Hell!" he exclaimed under his breath. It was more to himself than to +anybody else, although, catching Eugene's eye, he smiled. "They call +that sport!" + +The elderly man with the white mustache smiled peacefully and got up, +too, and joined the boy. + +"Had enough, Harry?" + +Harry turned a face filled with disgust. "Enough!" he said. "I should +think I had. It will last me all my life." He repressed his feelings +with an effort. "Did you win, Uncle Don?" + +"I'm sure I don't know," Uncle Don replied quietly. "I didn't keep +track. Did you?" + +"No, thank God!" he answered fervently. "I lost. And I feel as though +I had nearly lost my self-respect, too. I want a Turkish bath." + +"All right," returned his uncle quickly. "So do I. And I've no doubt +that Frank does." He turned and beckoned to the man who had been +sitting at the dealer's left. He had already risen and was standing +behind his chair, idly watching the readjustment, and he came at once. +"We're going to Ben's, Frank. Harry wants a bath." + +"Good!" said Frank with his ready smile. "Something that will get +right into your soul, eh, Harry? Come on, Don." + +Uncle Don had turned for a last look at the players. "It was a +somewhat dangerous experiment," he remarked, "and one that I should +never dare to try with that other boy there. He ought to be hauled out +of the game by the collar and spanked and sent to bed without his +dinner--to say nothing of baths. Well, we can't meddle. Come on." And +Uncle Don took one of Harry's arms and Frank took the other and they +went out. + +Eugene was reminded of his duty. If he was to haul Charlie out of the +game by the collar he must be quick about it. He wormed his way among +the scorers and touched Charlie on the shoulder. Charlie started and +looked up somewhat fearfully. + +Spencer bent over him. "Come, Charlie," he said. + +If either of them had noticed, they would have seen a faint flicker of +interest in the eyes of the dealer. But they were not looking at the +dealer. Charlie was relieved to see who it was. He had been afraid +that it was some one else--the police, perhaps. + +"Let me alone, Spencer," he replied disdainfully. "If you think that +I'm coming now, you're greatly mistaken. In a couple of hours, +perhaps." + +Eugene bent farther over. "Sally's waiting for you outside." He spoke +very low; it was scarcely more than a whisper. But the dealer must +have heard, for the interest in his eyes was more than a flicker now. + +In Charlie's eyes there was a momentary fear. It was but momentary. + +He laughed nervously. "I hope she won't get tired of waiting." He +shook his head. "I won't come now." + +Eugene bent lower yet. "She told me to tell you that she should wait +until you did." + +The dealer was waiting for them. There was a flash of irritation in +Charlie's eyes and he turned to the table. "Go to the devil!" he said. + +There was a snicker from some of those seated about the table. Eugene +reddened and drew back and the game went on. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + + +It was a very lonely time that Sally had, standing there, leaning +against the tree-guard and looking up and down the deserted street. +The houses seemed to be all asleep or deserted as well as the street. +She wondered idly what they were used for; then she thought that it +was as well that she did not know, judging from the one of them that +she did know about. What would the builders of those houses think if +they could come back and see the uses to which their dignified old +homes had been put? + +She glanced up and down the street again. Yes, it seemed to be +entirely deserted. She did not see the figure which lurked in the +shadows on the other side. She had said that she would be all right; +that she was not afraid. Well, she was not afraid, but she was getting +just a bit nervous. She wished that Eugene would hurry with Charlie. +She could not stand by that tree any longer anyway. She began to walk +slowly up and down, watching the door out of which she expected Jane +and Charlie to appear at any moment, and she wondered what she should +say to Charlie. She had no set speech prepared. What was there to say +that could possibly do any good? Probably she would say nothing at all +and they would set off in silence, all three, to their hotel. She had +other thoughts, too, but they need not concern us now. We are not +thinking of Fox Sanderson and his silly speeches nor of Henrietta and +her contentment; for she ought to be contented if ever a girl was. +Sally's eyes filled with tears and her thoughts insensibly drifted +away from Charlie and Jane as she paced slowly to and fro. And that +lurking figure across the street was never very far away. + +The sound of a door shutting reverberated after the manner of all +sounds in that street and there were voices. Sally had turned at the +sound of the door. Somebody was coming out of the house and she +hurried forward and stopped short. The figure on the other side of the +street started forward and stopped short also. There were three men +coming out, and the joyous voices were not Jane's and Charlie's. Their +voices would not be joyous--if they spoke at all. The three men passed +her, arm in arm, and they looked at her curiously as they passed and +the hand of the oldest instinctively went to his hat. Sally saw that +he was an elderly man with a pleasant face and that his mustache was +snow-white. They had got but a few steps beyond when their pace +slackened and this man seemed to hesitate. He looked back at her +doubtfully. Then he sighed and the three resumed their brisk walk. + +"No use," he said. "Can't meddle. I wish I could. No good comes of +it." + +Once more Sally took up her slow walk to and fro. She was glad that +the three men had gone, but she was sorry, too. That elderly man had +seemed kind and sympathetic and a gentleman; and he had come from that +house. But that, Sally, was no recommendation. She knew that he had +done the wise thing; or that he had not done the unwise thing, and +probably he was right and no good came of meddling. And the sound of +their steps died away as they turned a corner. Again Sally had the +street to herself; Sally and the man lurking in the shadows. She found +herself growing more and more oppressed with the sense of loneliness. +If only somebody were there to wait with her! A quiet, out-of-the-way +street, poorly lighted, is not the most exhilarating place for a girl +at half-past eleven at night. If only Fox-- + +Somebody else had turned the corner and was coming toward her with a +step that was neither brisk nor loitering; that seemed as if it knew +just where it was going, but was in no unseemly haste to get there. +Sally stopped and looked about for some place in which she might +conceal herself. None offered better than her tree. As the step drew +near she seemed to know it, and she shrank as nearly out of sight as +she could. She had no invisible cap; she wished she had. + +The step which she knew stopped beside her. "Sally!" said a voice in +unmistakable surprise. "Sally! What in the world are you doing here?" + +Sally smiled as bravely as she could. "Nothing, Everett," she replied +quietly. "Just waiting." + +"Waiting?" he exclaimed. "For whom, may I ask?" + +"For Charlie," she answered as quietly as before. "Jane has gone in to +get him." + +"Oh," said Everett coldly, "so Spencer has gone in to get him. To +judge by appearances, he doesn't seem to make a success of it." + +Sally shook her head. There did not seem to be anything else to say. +Spencer didn't seem to be making much of a success of it. + +"How long have you been waiting?" + +"Two or three years," answered Sally, with a nervous laugh. + +"You poor girl!" Everett exclaimed. "I was just going in to see if I +couldn't get Charlie. It is curious how things happen." Sally smiled a +little smile of amusement in spite of her nervousness. It _was_ +curious how things happened, when you came to think of it. "There +isn't any use in your waiting any longer. It can't do any good, and it +may be very unpleasant for you. Better let me take you to your hotel. +Then I will come back. I may have as much success as Spencer, +perhaps." And Everett began a little smile of his own; but, thinking +that Sally might see it, he stopped before the smile was well born. + +Sally shook her head again. "I told Eugene to tell Charlie that I +should wait here until he came out. It isn't pleasant, but I shall +wait." + +"But, Sally," Everett remonstrated, "you don't understand. You--" + +"I do understand," Sally interrupted. "I will take care of myself." +She may not have realized how this would sound and how it would +exasperate Everett. But perhaps she did realize. + +Everett only shrugged his shoulders and turned away. Sally was an +obstinate piece. + +"If you want to do me a kindness," she continued, "you will help to +get Charlie out as soon as you can." + +"As you like," he returned. "I will certainly do what I can to get +Charlie out. That's what I am here for." Again Sally smiled her +peculiar little smile. She couldn't help it. That Everett should think +she would believe that! "But you had much better let me take you to +your hotel first," he added, persuasively. "I will explain to +Spencer." + +"I will wait." + +Everett was irritated and quite out of patience with her. He shrugged +his shoulders again and started on. + +"You are very good, Everett," Sally called softly. "Thank you, and +good night." + +He made no reply unless a perfunctory touch of his hat and an +impatient mutter could be called a reply; and he was swallowed up by +the doorway and admitted by the doorman with a familiar nod and a grin +which it was as well, he thought, that Sally did not see. She would +not have been surprised if she had seen. + +Everett had hardly disappeared when the lurking figure left its post +in the shadows and advanced toward Sally. She saw it and braced +herself for the encounter. In the matter of encounters that lonely +street was doing pretty well. For an instant she meditated flight, but +instantly decided against it. The man must have known, from her +attitude, what was passing in her mind, for he spoke when he was but +halfway across. + +"Sally," he said gently, "you needn't be frightened. It--" + +Whereupon Sally behaved in a most peculiar and reprehensible manner. +At the sound of the voice she had stiffened; but now she cast herself +at the man and seized his arm with both her hands. + +"Fox, Fox," she said, with a quiver in her voice, for she was very +near to crying. "I'm glad. You are an old comfort. You don't know how +lonely it was, waiting by myself. I thought I could stand it, but I +don't know whether I could have held out much longer. The street was +getting on my nerves." + +"I know, Sally," he replied. "I was afraid it would. And now what is +the prospect? Is Charlie likely to come soon? And shall we go to your +hotel or wait?" + +"I must wait. But--but, Fox, it would provoke Jane and Charlie, too, +to find you here." + +Fox laughed. "Then I will vanish at the first sign of them. But I +should really like to know how your enterprise comes out. Do you mind +telling me, Sally? And how shall we manage it without telling your +mother? I suppose she doesn't know the purpose of your coming." + +"Not from me, although she may guess. I'll come out, in a day or two, +to call on you, sir. Shall you feel honored?" + +"You know I shall, Sally. But how will you account for your call?" + +"I shall come to collect the rent," returned Sally promptly, "if any +excuse is necessary. Be sure that you have it ready. And I shall give +you a faithful account of all that has transpired." She had Fox's arm +and she gave it a little squeeze. It was a very little squeeze and +very brief, but it made his heart jump. "It was lucky for me that +you--" And then she stopped short, realizing that Fox would not have +happened to be in that street, leading to nowhere, at that time. + +"Don't you know," he asked simply, with a laugh of content, "that I +always keep track of you? Did you think that you could come to such a +place as this without my being somewhere about?" + +Sally changed the subject quickly. It was an unspeakable comfort to +her to know--but Fox must not pursue that subject now. Fox had no +intention of pursuing that subject; and they walked slowly to and fro +over what had been Sally's beat, talking of anything or of nothing. +Sally was content; and again she forgot Charlie and Jane and her +errand, and she became almost gay. Those sombre old houses echoed +quiet laughter, of a kind that they had not heard for goodness knows +how many years, and low voices. Some more men came, singly, or in +groups of two or three, and looked at them with curiosity. Sally +hardly saw them. And the last group passed into the house and up the +stairs and into the room where the table stood before the front +windows and they stopped short at the sound of angry voices. + +The game had stopped, for the moment, and the dealer was leaning back +with his hand upon the pack, waiting. There was a look upon his face +of languid interest under the mask of indifference, as he gazed at the +young fellow opposite, his face flushed now with impotent rage, and at +the man leaning over him. The face above was flushed with anger, too, +but it was not impotent. If Sally had seen it she would have been +reminded of her father. The sight seemed to remind the dealer of +something, but it was impossible to guess whether that something was +pleasant or otherwise. Many things had happened to him which were not +pleasant to think of. Indeed, the pleasant things were very few. He +did not think of his past when he could help it. It was a thing to be +avoided. + +"Come, Charlie," said Everett again, sharply. "You're to get up and +go. We're all waiting." + +Charlie seemed to be divided between his long admiration of +Everett--of what he said and did and was--and his helpless anger. He +wavered. + +"You mean that I have got to leave the game?" he sputtered at last. +"Why have I?" He hesitated a moment, looking from the cards to the +dealer who still had that little look of languid interest upon his +face. In fact, it was almost compelling a smile on the thin lips. +Charlie could not have stood that. He looked away again quickly, but +he did not look at Everett. He could not have stood that, either. +"No," he said, with a sudden accession of courage, "I won't do it. The +game can go on." + +The dealer did not move a muscle. Everett smiled. "You see," he +answered, "that it will not go on with you in it. I'm right, Charlie?" +he added, glancing up at the dealer; but it was less a question than a +command. + +The dealer nodded. Still Charlie Ladue did not move. + +"Come, Ladue," Everett ordered impatiently. "Don't make them put you +out. Cash in and go along. You know very well why. I promised to start +you and I'm going to. And, let me tell you, I can do it." + +There was nothing else to do. Charlie muttered something and rose +slowly and pushed his chair back violently in a fit of childish anger. +Instantly the chair was taken and the game was going on almost before +he had his back turned. Everett kept close beside him until he had his +coat and hat, and he even went down to the door with him. Eugene was +waiting there, but he said nothing. He was much mortified at his +complete failure and at Everett's complete success. The grinning black +opened the door. + +"Good night, Spencer," said Everett. "And good night, Charlie. If you +take my advice, you'll give it up." + +The door shut behind the two and Everett went upstairs again. He paid +no attention to the game, but walked into the dimly lighted back room +and to the sideboard. He felt out of sorts with himself and with +everybody and everything else. He must be thirsty; and he poured +himself out a glass and stood sipping it and looking absently at the +heavily curtained windows at the rear. There did not happen to be +anybody else at the sideboard. + +He was still sipping with his back toward the front room and the game +when he felt a touch upon his arm. He turned quickly. There stood the +dealer. + +"Hello, Charlie!" he said in some surprise. "Your recess? Do you want +me to apologize for taking that young cub out and making all that +row?" + +The dealer shook his head. "That was right enough. I've been thinking +about him for some--" He stopped short and swallowed--something; +possibly a lump or something of the kind. But it is not conceivable +that such a man can have the more usual emotions of pity and charity. +For they are the usual emotions, whatever you may say against it. If +Everett had only known it, that was the very trouble with him. He had +not been thirsty, primarily. His thirst was but a physical symptom of +his mental state. + +But I interrupted the dealer. He was speaking again. "I should like to +ask you a question, Mr. Morton," he said. + +"What is it, Charlie?" Everett felt but a passing interest in his +question. + +"I noticed that you called the young man Ladue." + +"Did I? That was very thoughtless of me. I apologize." + +The dealer did not smile, but went on, apparently pursuing his object, +whatever that was. "And the other man spoke of Sally." + +"Indeed! That was even more thoughtless." + +"Charlie Ladue," the dealer continued in an even voice, "and Sally. It +sounds as if Sally should be his sister. Is she?" + +Everett hesitated for a moment. After all, what harm? "Well, yes, she +is his sister. Much disturbed at hearing of his doings. You and I, +Charlie," he said lightly, "know better." + +The dealer smiled faintly. For a wonder his faint smile was not +unpleasant. + +"Can you tell me," he pursued, "where Miss Sally Ladue is to be +found--say, in the morning?" + +Everett hesitated again and glanced at the man suspiciously. This was +a more serious matter. + +"Why do you ask? And, assuming that I know, why should I tell you, +Charlie?" If it had not been that he still smarted under Sally's +treatment of him, he would not have gone as far as that. + +The old dealer with the lined face smiled slowly and with a certain +cunning. + +"Possibly I can answer both questions at once. Conceivably, I can +satisfy you. I am her father." + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + + +Sally and Eugene and Charlie had almost finished breakfast. It was a +silent group; Eugene was quiet, for he had not got over the +mortification at his miserable failure of the night before, and, +besides, the very fact that he was eating breakfast with Sally was +enough to make him quiet. Charlie was sulky and morose and penitent. +There had been very little said, but that little had been to the +point, and Charlie had pleaded _nolo contendere_, which, in this case, +was equivalent to a plea of guilty; guilty of the offense as charged +and guilty of obtaining money from Patty under false pretenses, +although Sally could not find out how much. He would only say that it +was not so very much; he could not remember exactly how much. And +Sally had promised to give him a reasonable allowance if he would +honestly try to keep within it and would give up his bad habits, which +would be his unfailing ruin if he kept on. It might be necessary to +take him out of college. He was to go home with them and the council +of war would decide about that. Charlie seemed somewhat anxious about +the composition of that council, although he did not seem to care very +much whether he left college or not. As Sally had not decided upon +that point, she did not gratify his curiosity. And Charlie had given +the required promises. He had even promised more than was required of +him, for he agreed to reform permanently. Sally had her doubts about +its being permanent. She had seen too much of the effects of the +"bug," as Horry Carling had called it. But she could not ask more, and +she sighed and expressed herself as satisfied and they went in to +breakfast. That incident was closed. + +Now she was leaning back in her chair, watching the others putting +the finishing touches on a rather substantial breakfast. A call-boy +was speaking to the head waiter; and that august official came with +stately step to Sally's table. + +"A gen'leman to see Miss Ladue," he announced privately in Sally's +ear. + +Sally looked up in surprise. "To see me?" she asked. "Are you sure? +Who is it? Do you know?" + +"He asked was Miss Ladue staying here, but he didn't give no card and +he wouldn't give no name. I could say that you've gone or that we +can't find you," the man suggested, "if you don't care to see him." + +"Oh, no," said Sally, with a quick smile. "I'll see him. He may have +come to tell me of a long-lost fortune. But," she added with a puzzled +wonder, "I can't imagine who it can be." + +Eugene got up, pushing aside his coffee. "Let me go, Sally." + +Sally was already up. "Oh, no," she said again. "Thank you, Eugene, +but you and Charlie may as well finish your breakfast in comfort. +There's plenty of time before our train goes and I will join you in a +few minutes. I'm only wondering who in the world it is and what he +wants. Perhaps it's Everett." + +A look of annoyance came into Spencer's eyes at the mention of +Everett. Why couldn't he let them alone? But Sally was rapidly +vanishing in the wake of the head waiter, who delivered her safely to +the call-boy. At the door of a small reception room the boy paused, +parted the hangings, and bowed Sally in. + +As she entered, a man rose from a chair near the window and stood +waiting. Although Sally could not see his face because of the light +behind him, there was something vaguely familiar in his manner of +rising from the chair and in his attitude. It troubled her. + +"You wished to see me?" she asked, wondering why he did not come +forward to meet her. + +"Miss Sallie Ladue?" he asked in return. Sally's hand went to her +heart involuntarily; her mother's trick, exactly. The man seemed to be +smiling, although Sally could not see that, either. "I want to make +sure. It is sometime since--" + +"Turn around to the light, so that I can see your face," Sally +commanded. Her voice was hard and cold. It may have penetrated his +armor. He turned obediently, giving a short laugh as he did so. + +"My face may be a trifle the worse for wear since you have seen me," +he remarked airily. "A trifle the worse for wear; which yours is not. +Has anybody ever told you, Sally, that you have become a lovely woman? +Or wouldn't you care for that tribute?" + +"We will not discuss my appearance, if you please." Sally's voice was +still hard and cold; like steel. She came around in front of him and +scrutinized his face closely. There could be no possible doubt. "Well, +father?" + +"You don't seem glad to see me, Sally. After an absence of--er--a +hundred years or so, one would think that you might be. But, I repeat, +you don't seem glad to see me." + +"No," said Sally quietly. "I'm not." + +He laughed. His laugh was unpleasant. "Truthful as ever, I see. +Wouldn't it be better to mask the truth a little, when it must be as +disagreeable as it is now? To draw even a thin veil over it, so that +it can be perceived dimly--dimly if unmistakably?" + +Sally shook her head and she did not smile. "I see no object in it. +What is your purpose in seeing me now? I do not doubt that you have a +purpose. What is it?" + +He seemed to find a certain pleasure in tantalizing her. "Aren't you +curious to know how I found out your whereabouts?" + +"I am not interested in that. Tell me your purpose." + +"What other purpose could I have than to see my daughter after so many +years? Is it permitted, my dear Sally, to ask after the health of your +mother?" + +"She is well; as well as can be expected. It is not your fault that +she did not die years ago. She was four years getting over that +trouble of hers. You laughed at her headaches, you remember. She was +four years in Doctor Galen's sanitarium." + +He waved his hand lightly, as of old. "A little misunderstanding, +Sally, which I greatly regret. But four years of Doctor Galen! How did +you manage to pay him?" + +"That," replied Sally, "cannot possibly be any concern of yours." + +"Ah, true. It is not any concern of mine. But is it not possible to +see your mother? She is still my wife, I presume, and you are still my +daughter." + +"She is still your wife and I am your daughter. But you shall not see +her if I can prevent it." + +"And--I gather from the tenor of your remarks that you would resist +any attempt at--er--reuniting a family long separated by +circumstances." + +Sally smiled disdainfully. "I am of age. As to my mother, I should +resist. No court would compel it." + +"Ah," he said, smiling, "how well you meet my points! You are of age, +and no doubt you are right about the courts. There is no law that will +prohibit my trying, I think. And Charlie is not of age, if my +recollection serves me." + +Before Sally could frame an answer, there was a slight noise in the +hall and Charlie burst in. "I beg your pardon," he said hastily. The +two were standing, and he had not recognized Sally. But an instant's +gaze was enough. "Sally!" he exclaimed. He looked at the man. A wave +of red rushed into his face. "Charlie!" he cried involuntarily. Then +he recovered. "What are you doing here? What do you mean by coming to +see my sister?" + +Sally was inexpressibly distressed. She started to speak. She would +have said something--told him the truth, of course--to save them both; +but a quiet movement of her father's hand stopped her. He seemed to be +waiting patiently for the next stone. + +"Do you know, Sally," Charlie continued, "who this man is? He is the +dealer in number seven. He has no right--no business to try to see +you. I insist on his leaving at once." + +Sally spoke with surprising gentleness, considering her mode of speech +to her father only a few minutes before. "We have some business, +Charlie," she said. "He will go as soon as that is done. Now, leave +us, please, to finish it, for we have not a great deal of time. It is +all right." + +And Charlie withdrew slowly, with many a glance from one to the other +and many a misgiving as to the business which seemed to be of so +private a nature. They heard his steps retreating down the hall. + +Sally turned her shocked face to her father, "Won't you sit down?" she +asked gently. "I am very sorry; sorrier than I can tell +you--for--everything, but especially for that speech of Charlie's. But +Charlie did not know." + +"And I prefer that he shouldn't," her father replied. He had seated +himself with his face half turned away from the light. "I have many +hard things to bear, Sally, and, strange as it may seem to you, I try +to bear them with patience. I have to, so why make a virtue of +necessity? That speech of Charlie's--made in ignorance--was less hard +for me than your own." + +"I am sorry," Sally said again, "but I meant what I said, most +emphatically. You are not to suppose that I didn't. But I am sorry for +my manner--if it hurt you." + +He smiled faintly. "It was not intended to soothe or to amuse, I take +it," he remarked. And he lapsed into silence, fingering his hat +nervously and turning it around in his hands. + +Sally sat gazing at the lined old face before her a long time without +speaking. As she looked, her eyes softened even more and grew +tender--and those eyes could be wonderfully tender. He bore her gaze +as well as he could, but he was ill at ease. If the truth must be +told, his mood had softened, too, and the very fact embarrassed him. +Perhaps he remembered the days of the little lizard and the coal-trees +and the occasions when the gynesaurus had climbed to the topmost +branch and gazed forth upon a wide prospect of tree-tops and swamps. +It could not have been pleasant to recollect those days. For him, they +were no more and could be never again. He was roused by Sally's low +voice. + +"Oh, father," she said impulsively, "why do you do it? Why can't you +give it up? I could get your lizard for you. Why not return to your +old life? You might do something yet. At least, it would be a comfort +to be respectable." + +He laughed at that. "No doubt it would," he observed, "be a great +comfort to be respectable. And no doubt it would be a great comfort to +you to have a respectable father; reformed; dragged from the depths." +The tears came to Sally's eyes. "Does your programme," he asked then, +nonchalantly, "include--er--reuniting a family long separated by +circumstances? You may remember that I mentioned the matter once +before." + +She shook her head slowly and regretfully. "I'm afraid not. I couldn't +consent to exposing mother to the--" She hesitated and stopped. + +"The dangers incident to such an arrangement?" he suggested. "Pardon +me for supplying what you were considerate enough to omit. Perhaps you +are wise. And Charlie?" + +"And Charlie." She nodded. "You see, yourself, that such a thing could +not be--at any rate, until you have proved that you could do it." + +"I couldn't," he answered promptly. "Don't think that I haven't tried. +I have tried, repeatedly. I hate the life, but I can't give it up. +But," he added, "you need not have been afraid for Charlie." + +"I am very much afraid for Charlie," said Sally simply, "in any case. +He is sick of it now. How long the present mood will last, I do not +know. Could you manage that he is not allowed to play at--at your--" + +He bowed gravely. "That can be arranged, I think." + +"Thank you, father." + +Once more there was silence between them. Finally he made a movement +as if to go. "I was--I wanted--was curious to see how you had come +out, Sally. That was the main reason for my troubling you. If there +were other reasons, they no longer exist. I--" + +"Don't go yet, father," Sally interrupted. "I have more to say." + +He sat down again and waited. She was considering--trying to consider +the problem before her in every aspect. But she could not get the +point of view of her father and Charlie, and she wanted to. + +"Father," she resumed, "what _is_ the attraction? I have been trying +hard to get a sympathetic view of it and I can't. I can't see anything +except what is sordid and repulsive. The life is--is not desirable--" + +"Not very desirable," he broke in, with a horrible, dry laugh. + +"And it can hardly be simply covetousness. If it is, you miss your +mark. What I--" + +"It is not covetousness. I may as well say that it is not a sin of +covetousness," he corrected, "in deference to the generally received +opinion. I have no desire to gloss over and to try to excuse by a form +of words, although I, personally, am not convinced that it is a sin +according to natural law. However, we need not discuss that aspect of +it." + +He waved that view aside with a familiar motion of his hand. How +familiar they were--those little tricks of the hand and of the voice! +They made Sally's eyes fill and a lump come in her throat. She raised +her hand to her forehead and leaned upon it. It half concealed her +eyes. She said nothing. The professor went on in his old lecture-room +manner; a judicial manner. + +"No, it is not a sin of covetousness, but simply a passion to which +any man who is subject to it can't help giving way. It is a passion as +old as humanity--perhaps older. There are no more inveterate gamblers +than the savages. Possibly," he added, smiling, "my little lizard had +it; possibly it goes back to those ancient days that you know about, +Sally. It may be that the saurians had their own games of chance and +their own stakes--and, I may add, their own methods of enforcing +payment. Indeed, their life was one great gamble. For that matter, +life is no more than that now." + +Sally made an inarticulate protest. + +"As for getting the other man's money," the professor continued, +unheeding, "that is merely incidental. We feel better, it's true, when +we win, but that is for another reason. It has nothing to do with the +game--keeping his money. The other man can keep his money--or, as far +as the game is concerned, I would give it back to him--for all the +happiness it brings him or would bring me. The distinction which I +mean to draw is a little subtle, but I flatter myself that you can +appreciate it." + +He looked at her and she nodded. The tears still stood in her eyes. + +"Happiness, Sally," he resumed, absently gazing at the wall, "is--but +you probably do not care for my views on the subject of happiness," he +said, interrupting himself and glancing at her with a smile. The smile +was rather pleasant to contemplate; a thing sufficiently +remarkable--for him. "Probably you think I am better qualified to tell +you what it is not than what it is; how to avoid it than how to get +it. I can give advice, but I cannot follow it." + +Sally smiled quickly. "Your views are interesting," she said. She +stirred a little. She did not know how he would take what she was +about to say. "You would--would you feel hurt, father, if I should +offer you an allowance?" + +A quarter of an hour before, he would not have felt hurt or +embarrassed in the least. In fact, that was the very thing he had come +there for. At the moment, it was different. A flush crept into his +face slowly. + +"Why should I feel hurt?" His voice had changed. It had lost that +intimate quality which it had had during the last few minutes, when he +had been on the point of telling Sally about happiness. "It is Uncle +John's money, I suppose? Why should I feel any compunctions about +taking it? And--er--there are conditions incident to the acceptance +of this--er--this gift, I suppose?" + +"I'm afraid there are," she replied; "at least, tacitly understood." + +He considered for a few moments. "I think," he said then, "that it +will conduce to happiness, on the whole, if we are not too tacit about +those conditions. What are they?" + +"I hoped," she answered gently, "that you would not insist on my +repeating them. You must understand, from what I have said, what they +are." + +"I prefer that they should be stated as conditions." + +"Very well." Sally's voice was harder and colder. "As you like. You +are not to take any steps whatever, even to reveal your existence to +my mother and Charlie. Charlie is not to be allowed to play at your +house--not to be allowed to enter it." + +"But, Sally, I may be unable to prevent that," he protested. "The +house is not mine. I am only--only an employe and an underling. I will +do what I can, but there is no use in promising what I can't perform." + +Sally smiled a little. It was something new for him to stick at +promising. + +"Those are the conditions which I must make in self-defense," she +said. + +"May I venture to ask what is offered on the other side?" + +She made a rapid calculation. "The most that I can offer you is seven +hundred a year. I'd like to make it a thousand; but I have mother and +Charlie to take care of, and I must pay Patty what she had let him +have--without my knowledge," she added apologetically. "I agree to +send you sixty dollars a month on those conditions." + +He was leaning back in his chair and spoke in his old manner, lightly. + +"And if the conditions are violated?" + +"The allowance stops," Sally replied promptly. + +"And further?" + +There was a suspicion of moisture again in Sally's eyes. "You make it +unnecessarily hard, father," she said gently. "I shall act further if +you compel me to." She was reminded of the time when she had asked his +permission to go to dancing-school. Her feelings, she found, were much +the same as they had been on that occasion. "I am ready to put it in +writing if you wish." + +"Oh, no," said the professor airily. "It is not necessary, Sally. Your +word would be all that anybody could require; anybody who knew you." + +"Thank you," she murmured. It was very low and he gave no sign of +having heard it. + +Again he was silent; then he turned to her. A smile of amusement +curled his lip. "There is, at least, no question of sentiment in all +this, is there, Sally?" + +"Oh, I don't know," she murmured more gently than ever. She was not +looking at him, but down at the arm of her chair. "There may be, but I +must not let it interfere with my judgment--in this matter. There is +mother to think of." + +"Ah! I infer that your mother would not welcome an occasion for +reuniting that family which I mentioned." + +It was not a question and Sally said nothing. After a pause, the +professor sighed and spoke again. + +"I accept your munificent offer, Sally. There is nothing else to do." + +It was his way--it had always been his way to put the giver in the +wrong, by a simple turn of words; to make her feel as if it were he +who was conferring the favor. Sally felt somehow guilty and +apologetic. + +"Will you give me your address?" she asked, diffidently--"the address +to which you would like your money sent?" + +He wrote on a slip of paper with an old stub of a pencil which he +pulled from his pocket and handed her the paper. She read it and +looked up at him quickly. + +"Am I to make them out in this name?" she asked. "It is not--" + +"It is not Ladue," he interrupted deliberately, but showing more +emotion than he had shown hitherto. "Professor Charles Ladue, I would +have you know, Sally, died about ten years ago, in extreme poverty and +distress--of mind as well as of body." + +Sally's tears overflowed and dropped, unheeded. She put out her hand +impulsively, and laid it upon his. + +"Oh, father!" she whispered. "I am sorry." + +"I believe you are," he said. He rose. "Now I will go back to +obscurity. Don't be too sorry for me," he added quickly. "I cultivate +it." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + + +Mrs. Ladue asked no troublesome questions. Perhaps she thought that +she had no need to; that she knew, as well as if she had been told, +what Charlie had been doing. Sally had been to see about it, of +course, and now it was all right, equally of course. Sally always +remedied wrongs as well as anybody could and made them right again. It +was a great comfort. And Mrs. Ladue sighed happily and smiled. + +Sally thought the smile somewhat ill-timed, but she was glad enough +that her mother felt like smiling. That smile exasperated her a +little. She had just come back and the past twenty-four hours had been +rather crowded. But her mother did not know that. And she was glad +enough that her mother had not asked questions, for, if she had been +asked, she would have lied, if necessary, for the first time in her +life. Her mother did make a remark which, as Sally thought, showed +that she knew. Sally had her hand on the door and was on the point of +going out. + +She turned. "Why, mother!" she exclaimed. "So you knew, all the time, +what the trouble was!" She laughed in derision; at herself, chiefly. +"And I took such pains to keep the truth from you!" + +"I didn't know, Sally. I only guessed. It's what I have been afraid of +for years--the first thing I should have looked for. What else could +you expect, with his--" + +She did not go on. Sally, fresh from that interview with her +father,--it had happened only that morning,--was almost overcome by +the memory of it. + +"Why, Sally, dear!" cried her mother. "I didn't suppose you felt so. +Don't, dear. It's nothing that we can help--the wanting to, I mean. +And I'm sure you have done more than anybody else could." + +Sally regained her self-control with an effort. "I don't feel so bad +about Charlie. I've done all that I can--now. But it's rather taken it +out of me," she added, with a nervous little laugh. + +"Of course, dear. I wish I were good for anything. I know," she said, +laughing nervously, in her turn, "that I ought to feel troubled. But I +can't, Sally, dear. As long as--" she hesitated and flushed. "I am +rather ashamed to say it, but as long as--as your father hasn't turned +up, I can't be anything but contented and happy. I find that I've had +an absurd feeling--utterly absurd, dear, I know--that he was about to. +It's only since you were on the way that that dread has left me and +I've felt contented--so happy and contented. The change came with +curious suddenness, about the time your train must have left." + +Sally had turned away sharply. "I'm very glad, mother," she replied in +a stifled little voice. "I'm glad you can feel so happy. There's no +need to feel that dread any more, I think. I'm going out now. Don't be +worried if I am late." + +"Going to walk, Sally?" Mrs. Ladue asked diffidently. "You had better +tell me what direction you will take--in case Fox comes in, you know. +He always wants to know your direction if you are at all late." + +"I'm going out to see him," Sally returned. "I promised to tell him +about it." + +If Sally had stopped to think of it at all she might have wondered why +her mother seemed so glad that she was going to Fox's. But her mind +was taken up with thoughts of her father, to the exclusion of +everything and everybody else--but one, and Sally was not aware of the +exception. Fox was the only person she was free to tell about her +father and she was looking forward to it. When she had shared her +knowledge--with somebody--it would be less of a burden. It never +occurred to her that he might not be glad to know. Wasn't he always +glad to know of anything which concerned her--anything at all? And as +Sally thought these thoughts a vivid blush spread over her face and +her throat. It was a pity that there was nobody to see it. + +Fox met her at the door. There was a questioning smile on his face as +he took her hand. He led the way into his office and Sally sank into +an armchair that stood by the table. Fox drew another chair near and +sat down. Then he took a little slip of paper from his pocket and laid +it by her elbow. + +"The rent," he said. + +Sally laughed, but she let it lie there. + +"Well?" Fox asked. + +"Well!" She found that she had very little to say and that little did +not come readily. "It is nice to get into a chair that is comfortable +without swallowing you whole--as if it would never give you up." She +patted an arm of the chair nervously. "I like these low arms." + +"Yes," said Fox, "so do I. And--there is no hurry, Sally. Would you +like to rest there--just sit and be comfortable for a while? You can +have had very little real rest for some time and you must have had +much to tire you. Just exactly as you please. I am entirely at your +service--as I am always," he added, in a low voice. "I can be +attending to my work, and you could begin whenever you were ready, or +I will give my undivided attention now." + +"Have you got work," Sally began hastily, "that--" + +"Oh, there's no hurry about it." And Fox smiled quietly. "But there's +enough to do. Routine, mostly." + +"Could you do it with me here? Wouldn't you--" + +"Couldn't I!" Fox smiled again. "It adds a great deal to my peace of +mind to have you in the same room with me, even when you aren't saying +anything. And peace of mind, Sally, is--" + +"Yes, I know," said Sally, interrupting. "Well, let's try it. You go +to your desk and work and I'll sit here and rest. And when the spirit +moves me I'll speak." + +So Fox went to his desk and Sally watched him as he became more and +more absorbed; and, as she watched, there came a light into her eyes +which had not been there before. Still she said nothing; only leaned +her head back against the chair and watched. Once he looked back at +her and smiled. He almost caught that light--that look in her eyes, +but Sally managed to quench it in time. + +"Resting, Sally?" he asked. + +She nodded and he turned back to his desk. The work did not seem +difficult. Sally wondered, and in her wonder she forgot, for the +moment. + +"Couldn't I do that, Fox?" + +"To be sure you could," he answered quickly, "if you only would. It +isn't half as difficult as what you do at your office." + +He had not looked around. Sally was glad of that, for she was +blushing--at her own temerity, she told herself. Again there was +silence in the room, except for the rustling of papers. + +"Fox," said Sally, after five minutes of this, "what would you do with +Charlie now? Would you send him back to college?" + +He put his papers down and turned. "Does the spirit move you to talk +now?" + +Again she nodded. "I think so. The little rest has done me good. And I +should like to have your advice." + +He came to the chair near hers. "What happened after I left you last +night?" + +"Nothing in particular," she answered. "I don't remember that we said +anything of consequence. I had a talk with Charlie, early this +morning." She gave him the substance of it; if it could be said to +have any substance. "This is the council of war," she added, smiling +somewhat wearily, "that is to settle his fate." + +Fox sat contemplating the wall. "It seems rather hard to say 'no' to +your question," he said at last, slowly, "but I should be inclined to +advise it. Have you any assurance--besides Charlie's promise, that +is--that he will not return to his bad habits?" + +"No, none of consequence. I am afraid he would. If--if he went into +the office with me now, I could keep an eye on him. That is," she +amended rather hopelessly, "I could try to. Charlie would probably +have no trouble in deceiving me if he tried to. I thought that +Henrietta might be willing to help about him. She might be able to do +more with him than I could." + +"Of course she would be willing." + +"She seems to have influence with Charlie and I should think she would +be willing to use it for his good. I haven't any influence," she +continued, "except through his fear of being found out. I don't know +how it happened--that doesn't matter especially--but he doesn't trust +me. I'm sorry, but that's the way it is." She sighed and looked away. + +Fox did not like to have her look away. He much preferred to have +those gray eyes look trustingly into his. + +"You may be sure that it's through no fault of yours, Sally." + +"Perhaps," Sally returned, looking back at him. "Perhaps, but I'm not +so sure. Very likely it is my fault. At any rate, it can't be helped. +That's the way it's gone." She stopped and seemed to be considering; +wondering, perhaps, how she should have done. She could not have done +differently, being herself. There was always, at the bottom of her +heart, an utter contempt for--well, she would not complete that +thought. And she sighed again and resumed. Fox had said nothing. + +"If we kept him in college, there would be relapses,--inevitably, I +think,--and I should only have to do this over again. Not that I +should mind," she interrupted herself hastily, "if it would do any +good. But every relapse would make it harder. There seems to be no +escape. I think he'll have to come out. That, I understand, is the +sense of the meeting?" She looked at Fox again, smiling whimsically. + +"That is my advice," said he, "if I am privileged to give advice on +the subject. I'm sorry to be seeming to take away his opportunities. +His regret will grow as he grows older." + +Sally shook her head. "He doesn't seem to have any regret." + +"He will have." + +"He may. I should think he would. But it's his own fault and that's +all there is to say about Charlie. I've done the best I could and I +don't mean to worry about it any more. I'll have him come into the +office to-morrow and I think he'll be glad to. It's a change, you +know." + +Sally looked at Fox and smiled again; but if there was anything +humorous in her smile there was much more that was scornful. + +"And now, Fox," Sally continued, very low--he could hardly hear the +words--and looking away again, "I have something else to tell you. It +is rather terrible, I think." Her voice was not steady and she +stopped, trying to control it. She did not want to cry; she did not +mean to. "I saw--" She choked, but went on bravely. "I saw my father +this morning." + +"What!" He cried in a voice as low as her own. The effect of her words +was as great as she could have expected, if she thought of the effect +at all. He put out his hand instinctively; but Sally withdrew hers. +"Where, Sally?" + +"He came to the hotel to see me." She spoke in a monotonous voice. She +found that her only hope lay in using that voice. She might begin to +cry at any moment. If she should--she was almost worn out and she was +afraid. In that same monotonous voice she gave every detail of the +interview. She did not omit anything. It was all burned into her +memory. Fox did not speak. When she came to an end of her account she +found that even her monotonous voice could not save her. She was +perilously near to tears and her chin would quiver in spite of all +that she could do. + +"Sally! Sally!" said Fox tenderly. He saw her condition. "Don't tell +me any more now if it distresses you." + +"I may as well," she replied as well as she could. She smiled up at +him, but her chin quivered more and more. "I may as well--now as well +as another time. For--for I've got to tell you, Fox." She looked at +him imploringly. "I've got to tell somebody, and the somebody is +always you." She smiled again tearfully, and looked away again. Fox +could not stand many such smiles. He would--would do something, he did +not know just what; but he sat gazing at her with infinite tenderness +and pity, saying nothing. + +"My father is employed in--in the house that we went to," she resumed +at last; "the house where Charlie has been playing. He deals the +cards--or something. He must have known!" Two tears fell into her lap. +"To think that my father has fallen to that!--has fallen so low! And +when Charlie said that to him," she cried desperately, "it almost +b--broke my heart." + +Her voice shook and suddenly she bowed her head upon her arms, which +were resting on the table, and broke into a passion of tears; wild +weeping, such as Fox had never known--had never supposed could come +from her. She had always seemed so beautifully poised, so steady and +so sturdy; like a rock, on which others built their foundations. But +the rod had smitten her and the springs were unbound. He had a wild +desire to take her in his arms. + +But he didn't--then. He only murmured something meant to be +comforting. God knew he wanted to comfort her; wanted to as he had +never wanted anything in his life before. He would, if he only knew +how. But the wild weeping had given way to a subdued sobbing. + +"And--it--it alm--most b--broke my heart," she sobbed, "to re--refuse +what he asked. B--but I had to do it. I h--had to do it, Fox. I +c--couldn't do anything else." She caught her breath. She could not go +on for a minute. + +Only an inarticulate murmur came from Fox. + +"Father was such a pathetic figure!" Sally went on a soon as she could +speak. "Of course I know that he is not always so--that he is seldom +so. There were mother and Charlie to think of. But it seemed so +terrible! And he was so patient under Charlie's--treatment--his own +father! I can't get him out of my--" + +Her wild weeping, restrained for a moment, broke out again. + +"Sally!" Fox murmured, leaning forward and laying a hand upon her +knee. "Sally, dear!" + +There was a great distress and a great longing in his look, but Sally +had her head down and she did not see it. But it was in his voice and +she may have heard it. He rose impulsively from his chair and went to +her quickly--it was only a step--and he sat on the arm of her chair +and put his arm around her. + +"Sally, dear!" he implored. "Don't cry so! Please don't." + +She did not repulse him, as he had feared she would, gently, of +course, but firmly; but she did not yield either. It was as if, for +the moment, he was nothing to her--nothing more than a brother; not +_her_ brother, thank heaven! She only sobbed, there, for some +minutes--in his arms. That was enough. + +She became more quiet in time. She still had her head down upon one +arm, but she was feeling up her sleeve and under her belt, searching +for something. + +"Forgive me, F--Fox," she said, "I didn't mean to do it, but I'm +t--tired out and--and I can't find my handkerchief." She laughed a +little hysterically. "Have you got one to l--lend me, Fox? I c--can't +lift my head be--because I'm crying and I've cried all over your table +and into your chair--" + +"Drat the table! What do you suppose I care about it, Sally?" + +"You--you ought to. I--it's a very pretty table." + +"I value it only because it holds your tears." Fox was unfolding a +handkerchief. It was a very large handkerchief. He put it into her +seeking hand. "I remember another occasion when you had to borrow a +handkerchief," he said. "Do you remember it, Sally?" + +She nodded and began to mop her eyes. "Mercy! I--I didn't want a +sheet, Fox," she said. + +Fox smiled. "I didn't know. You might." His voice was not steady as +he went on. "Sally," he whispered, "I--I want you. I want you!" + +She gave another hysterical laugh. "Well," she cried, "anybody +w--would th--think that y--you had me." + +"Have I, Sally dear?" he asked, still in that low whisper. "Have I?" +He bent over her neck. That was the only part of her that he could +reach--that neck with its little tendrils of waving hair. + +"Oh, don't!" she cried hastily. "Don't, Fox. You haven't got me--yet," +she added in a whisper which was barely audible. But Fox heard it. +"It--it isn't because--because you are sorry for me?" she asked in a +very small voice. + +"No," Fox was smiling again; but, as Sally had her eyes hidden, of +course she did not see it. "I am sorry for you as I can be, but that +isn't the reason. Guess again." + +"Are you _sure_, Fox? _Very_ sure?" she asked. "Say that you are, +Fox," she whispered. "Can't you please say that you are?" + +"I am sure." + +"And it isn't be--because m--my father," the small voice asked again, +"because my father is a--" + +"No. That isn't the reason either. I'm quite sure, Sally." + +Sally's head was still down on the table and she was wiping away her +tears. + +"But, Fox," she protested, "you ought not to, you know." + +"I ought," he replied indignantly. "I ought to have done it long ago. +Why not?" + +Sally smiled at the table. "M--my father," she returned, not at all +dismally, "would disgrace you--very likely. He's a d--" + +He interrupted her. "I don't care what he is, Sally," he said softly. +"I don't care about anything--but this." + +"And my brother is a gambler," she went on, in a disgracefully happy +voice, considering what she was saying,--"with not much hope that he +will be anything else. I don't deceive myself." + +"Only the greater reason," he said, more softly yet. "I want you, +Sally." + +"Do you? After that?" + +"You may believe it--dearest." + +She gave a sudden, happy little cry. "Oh, I believe it. I want to +believe it. I have wanted to for more than two years--ever--since the +night of the fire." She lifted her head, the tears shining in her +eyes; something else shining there. "Then I don't care for--for +Margaret--or--or anybody else; or any--any--thing"--her voice sank to +a whisper once more--"but you." + +Sally raised her eyes slowly to his. They were shy eyes, and very +tender. And Fox looked into their depths and saw--but what he saw +concerns only him and Sally. He seemed satisfied with what he saw. He +held her closer. Sally's eyes filled slowly and overflowed at last, +and she shut them. + +"I'm crying because I'm so happy," she whispered. + +Fox bent and kissed her. "I don't care for Margaret or for anybody +else but you," he murmured, "and I never have cared for anybody else. +I don't know what you mean. Who is Margaret?" + +Sally opened her eyes. "You don't know?" she asked in surprise. + +"I don't know. You have spoken of her before--as if I ought to know +all about her. Who is she and why must I know about her?" + +She did not answer at once. Her eyes were deep and shining and, her +eyes searching his, she put up her arms--slowly--slowly--about his +neck. "Oh, Fox, dear!" she cried softly. "Oh, Fox, dear! And you don't +know!" + +She laughed low and happily. Then she drew his head down--it came +readily enough-- + +When Sally emerged, a minute or two later, she was blushing. She +seemed burning up. She hid her burning cheeks in Fox's shoulder. + +"Fox," she murmured from her hiding place, "don't you remember +Margaret Savage?" + +"Oh, yes," he answered quite cheerfully. "She is very pretty now--very +attractive to the young men--but she's as much of a fool as ever." + +Sally laughed again. "And Henrietta told me," she said, "that you +might succumb. So you see that, when you spoke of getting married--" + +"Why, I meant you, all the time." + +"Ye--es, but I didn't know that--and--and I thought that you meant +Margaret and--and Henrietta's remarks set me to thinking and +then--then, pretty soon, I knew that--that I loved you, Fox, and I was +very unhappy. Oh, Fox, I _was_ unhappy!" + +"I'm sorry, darling. I'm very sorry. Sally!" + +She looked up at him and, as she looked, the red once more mounted +slowly, flooding her throat and then her cheeks. Again she put her +arms up and drew his head down. + +The crimson flood had left her face and there was in it only a lovely +color as she lay back in his arms. "Don't you love me, Fox?" + +He laughed. "Love you! Love you! I should think it was--" + +"Then," she asked, "why don't you say so, sir? You haven't said so +yet--not once." His arms tightened about her. "Close, Fox, dear!" she +whispered. "Hold me closer. I don't want to get away, ever." + +It was getting late when they finally stood at a window from which +they could see the little cream-colored house--they had got as far as +that--and the grove behind it. + +"I want to open that house," Fox was saying. "I want to live in it." + +"_I_ want to live in it," Sally said. + +"But," he returned quickly, "you know what must happen first. How +soon, Sally?" + +"Just as soon as ever I can manage it, dear. You may depend upon that. +And now I must go. I'm disgracefully late, even now." + +She hastily rearranged her hair, which, strangely enough, was much +disordered, and she put on her hat. Then she stood before him. + +"Now, don't you be troubled about your father, Sally, or about +Charlie, or anything. We will take care of those troubles together." + +"As if you hadn't always tried to take those troubles off my +shoulders!" She raised her radiant eyes to his. "If this is what you +meant by 'paying in kind,' you shall be paid, Fox. Oh, you _shall_ be +paid. And, dear, nothing troubles me now. Do you understand? +_Nothing_. Now I must run. Don't come with me. People couldn't help +noticing something. Good night." + +Once more she kissed him, and she was gone, walking buoyantly and +turning more than once to wave to him. Fox's eyes were wet as he +watched her. + +"Bless you, Sally! God go with you!" + +God go with you, Sally! + + +THE END + + + + + The Riverside Press + CAMBRIDGE . MASSACHUSETTS + U.S.A + + + + +OLD HARBOR + +By WILLIAM JOHN HOPKINS + + +"A charming picture of an old New England seaport.... It is a book to +close reluctantly with the hope of soon opening another volume by the +same author."--_New York Times._ + +"A tale to chuckle over.... It is not often that a reader has an +opportunity in the pages of a book to come in touch with such a group +of genial and lovable people."--_Minneapolis Journal._ + +"A cheerful, amusing story of old-fashioned people.... The author is a +genuine humorist."--_Boston Transcript._ + +"A story conceived in the same spirit as 'The Clammer,' filled with +the same philosophy, displaying the same keen insight."--_Brooklyn +Eagle._ + + +Square crown 8vo. $1.25 _net._ Postage 14 cents + + + HOUGHTON + MIFFLIN + COMPANY + + [Illustration] + + BOSTON + AND + NEW YORK + + + + +THE MEDDLINGS OF EVE + +By WILLIAM J. HOPKINS + + +"Mr. Hopkins is a true humorist. His distinction is to have found a +new literary field and to have peopled it with original and living +characters that may not unjustly give him claim to rank with the best +of our living American writers."--_Boston Transcript._ + +"Humor, dignity, and most perfect human love shine out in these +charming stories."--_The Outlook._ + +"Mr. Hopkins is a master of the sort of quiet humor which makes the +charm of these stories."--_Congregationalist._ + +"A story full of subtle situations ... a delightful volume."--_San +Francisco Chronicle._ + + +Tall 12mo, $1.00 _net._ Postage 9 cents. + + + HOUGHTON + MIFFLIN + COMPANY + + [Illustration] + + BOSTON + AND + NEW YORK + + + * * * * * + + +-----------------------------------------------------------+ + | Typographical errors corrected in text: | + | | + | Page 209: minature replaced with miniature | + | Page 361: "and and" replaced with "and" | + | Page 361: "in which the might conceal herself" | + | replaced with | + | "in which she might conceal herself" | + | Page 363: persusasively replaced with persuasively | + | Page 372: embarassed replaced with embarrassed | + | Page 379: enought replaced with enough | + | Page 383: "You may sure" replaced with "You may be sure" | + | | + +-----------------------------------------------------------+ + + * * * * * + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Concerning Sally, by William John Hopkins + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CONCERNING SALLY *** + +***** This file should be named 37118.txt or 37118.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/1/1/37118/ + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Jeannie Howse and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This +file was produced from images generously made available +by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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