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diff --git a/old/44149-h/44149-h.htm b/old/44149-h/44149-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index bd88040..0000000 --- a/old/44149-h/44149-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8412 +0,0 @@ -<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> - -<!DOCTYPE html -PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" -"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > - -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> -<head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> -<title> -In Pawn, by Ellis Parker Butler -</title> -<style type="text/css"> - <!-- - body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} - P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } - H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } - hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} - .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } - blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} - .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} - .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} - .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} - div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } - div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } - .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} - .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} - .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 100%; font-style:normal; - margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; - text-align: right;} - .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 25%; padding-left: 0.8em; - border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; - text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; - font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} - p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} - span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } - pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} - --> -</style> -</head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of In Pawn, by Ellis Parker Butler - -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: In Pawn - -Author: Ellis Parker Butler - -Release Date: November 10, 2013 [EBook #44149] -Last Updated: March 11, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN PAWN *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger - - - - - -</pre> - -<div style="height: 8em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h1> -IN PAWN -</h1> -<h2> -By Ellis Parker Butler -</h2> -<p> -<br /> -</p> -<h4> -With Illustrations -</h4> -<p> -<br /> <br /> -</p> -<h5> -Boston and New York <br /> Houghton Mifflin Company -</h5> -<h3> -1921 -</h3> -<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> -<img alt="frontispiece (68K)" src="images/frontispiece.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> -</div> -<p> -<br /> <br /> -</p> -<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> -<img alt="titlepage (50K)" src="images/titlepage.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> -</div> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<p> -<b>CONTENTS</b> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>IN PAWN</b> </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV </a> -</p> -<p class="toc"> -<a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV </a> -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -IN PAWN -</h2> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -CHAPTER I -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">L</span>em Redding had a dimple in his cheek that appeared when he smiled. For a -boy with a faceful of freckles he was pretty. He had dear, bright gray -eyes, and his smile, aided by the dimple, made most folks love him at -sight. His hair was brown, as his dead mother's had been; in fact he was -much like that mother in more ways than one—far more like her than -he was like Harvey Redding, his father. Lem was quick, agile, lively, and -Harvey was plumb lazy. -</p> -<p> -Without an exception Harvey Redding was the laziest man in or near -Riverbank. He was one of the heaviest men, too, for he was a glutton. He -loved food. He ate too much and he drank too much and he sat too much, all -of which increased his girth. He was as huge as Falstaff. -</p> -<p> -For two or three years Harvey Redding had been meaning to get a new belt, -but, somehow, he never “got around to it,” and for quite a while the -tongue of the belt buckle had been in the last hole, while Harvey himself -kept right on enlarging. As a result the belt made a tight band around his -middle and seemed cutting him in two. When Harvey leaned forward the belt -entirely disappeared under a great roll of fat and his face turned purple. -</p> -<p> -In most respects Harvey was the best-natured, easiest-going man in the -world, but he had fits of intense irritation, when he lost his temper -entirely and “dod-basted” like a trooper. These spells came, usually, when -he had to do any work. Moving was work for him. He lost his placidity if -he had to get out of his chair to close a door, or put a stick of wood in -the stove, or do any hard labor of that sort. He also lost his temper over -accidents, as when he fell asleep in his chair—as he did every -half-hour during the day—and his lighted pipe fell in at the open -bosom of his gray flannel shirt and burned his skin. At such times he -“dod-basted” everybody and everything, and almost got out of his chair. -</p> -<p> -The chair he liked best was an ancient hickory rocker which he had braced -and trussed with stout wires. On the seat was a round cushion covered with -green rep, worn threadbare, and flattened by long use. -</p> -<p> -Harvey's hair was thin and iron-gray and he never brushed it because -brushing hair meant exertion. On the top of his cranium was a spot -entirely bald. There were times when Harvey thought that if the world had -no flies to alight on that bald spot and no people to make him get out of -the chair, he might be perfectly happy. The flies made him ferocious. He -slapped at them, when they alighted on his head, with a vigor that would -possibly have crushed his skull if his hands had not been like rubber -gloves inflated to puffiness. His lips were puffy, too, and of a purple -hue. -</p> -<p> -You can, doubtless, visualize Harvey Redding seated in his rocker, puffing -endlessly at his pipe, dropping off to sleep every half-hour or so, losing -his pipe, awakening with a start, “dod-basting,” slapping flies and -picking up his fallen reading matter again, grunting as he reached for it. -He was a great reader. -</p> -<p> -He was indeed an untiring reader. He read dime novels and a certain “Lives -of the Saints.” He had a pile of three hundred or more dime novels and -some of his favorites he had read so often that they were mere rags. The -“Lives of the Saints” was a later favorite. He had found it in a pile of -waste paper he had bought—he was at that time in the junk business—and -he had found its pages fascinating. He had his favorite saints just as he -had his favorite dime novel heroes, and he not only read about them, but -thought about them. He would sit in his rocker by the hour, slapping -flies, smoking his pipe, and thinking what <i>he</i> would have done if he -had been Saint Francis, Saint George, or Saint Anthony. -</p> -<p> -His son Lem was a great comfort to him. Lem could feed the horse, run -across the street for another package of smoking tobacco, get a handful of -matches, and make life fairly endurable by doing most of the work that -needed to be done. It interfered with Lem's schooling, but Harvey did not -mind that. Lem sat on the seat of the junk wagon when Harvey went out for -junk, the string of cowbells clanking on the rope stretched between the -two uprights on the wagon. If by any chance a woman signaled the wagon Lem -got down and went to see what she had to sell. -</p> -<p> -Lem weighed the junk and carried it to the wagon and carried the money -back to her. -</p> -<p> -There was just one thing Harvey would not let Lem do. He would not let him -drive the horse. He told Lem it was not safe, but a kitten could have -driven the old gray wreck. Harvey liked to drive the horse. It was a -gentle occupation, suitable for a contemplative mind. It gave him an -excuse to sound authoritative. He could shout at the horse if it flicked -its tail at a fly, “dod-baste” at it if the tail went over a rein: -</p> -<p> -“Dod-baste you, you brute! Lem, git down an' lift that line from under -that hoss's tail,” he would command. -</p> -<p> -In the few years since Lem's mother had died Harvey had been in half a -dozen businesses, all centering around the horse and the small house on -the ample vacant lot on Elm Street. He had tried the retail ice business, -the milk business, a carter's trade, a vegetable market, a small grocery -business, and, finally, the junk business. He had a perfectly good excuse -for failure in each—unfair, dod-basted, ruinous, cut-throat -competition—and now this same Nemesis was attacking his junk -business. The Russian Jews had come to Riverbank—especially Moses -Shuder. -</p> -<p> -At the time when a great pogrom and persecution was taking place in Russia -tender-hearted Riverbank had raised a fund to pay the passage of some of -the Russian Jews from Poland to Riverbank. Eight came, with their -families. Riverbank looked at them, said they were perfectly awful -creatures, and kept as far from them as possible, and the Russian Jews -began picking up old bottles, empty tin cans, bits of rags, and pieces of -paper. They found wealth—meager wealth at first—beside the -fences, in the roads, in vacant lots, where no American would have -bothered to look for it. -</p> -<p> -Presently Moses Shuder was buying the scrap iron and old bottles that his -fellows picked up. He hired a vacant lot and built him a rough shed, and -from a despised, ignored alien became “competition” and the rival junkman -of Riverbank. He bought an old bone-bag of a horse, bought other horses, -bought the lot he had rented, bought a small cottage. Poorly clad, meek, -shrewd, silent when abused and voluble when bargaining, Moses became a -fixture and a feature. He lent money to Russian Jews who came from the old -country and sent them out with peddlers' packs of tinware, cheap -dry-goods, and profitable small notions. Before he had been in Riverbank -many years Mrs. Shuder began wearing a hat and talk-ing of the time when -Our People would erect a synagogue. -</p> -<p> -Before Moses Shuder and his fellows had been in Riverbank long, Harvey -began to feel pessimistic about the junk business. -</p> -<p> -“Dod-basted fleas, hoppin' around everywhere all the time,” he said. “Live -on a crust of bread an' half a drink of water. Don't know how to live like -human folks. If this kind o' thing keeps on I want to get out o' the junk -business, that's what!” - </p> -<p> -The trouble with Harvey was not that Moses Shuder was in the junk -business, but that Harvey was not and never had been. The bitter truth -about Harvey is that he had never been in any business. He had merely let -one or another business frame his copious leisure; his businesses were no -more than excuses for being lazy. They camouflaged what otherwise would -have been disgraceful sloth. -</p> -<p> -Harvey had been a farmhand until he married the farmer's daughter. Then he -had teased her to sell the farm and they had come to town. Half the price -of the farm went the first year, part of it to purchase the lot and shack -on Elm Street and the rest to make good the loss incurred by Harvey's mode -of doing business. Then his wife put her foot down. She went to a lawyer -and had the remaining money tied up in such a manner that Harvey could not -touch it, and from thereafter all he ever had was the twenty-five dollars -a month his wife allotted to him from the income. While she lived he -received that twenty-five dollars a month and after she died he continued -to receive it. She had been a weary, weak creature, but he had never been -able to change her resolution in this one matter. The money was for Lem. -</p> -<p> -When the vegetable market dried up and blew away with the last of Harvey's -capital, Lem's mother had been dead several years and Harvey turned to his -sister. He went up the hill to where she conducted a boarding-house and -explained to her the great opportunity that awaited the man who started a -grocery on Elm Street at that particular moment. In the end he came away -with the money. -</p> -<p> -“I ain't askin' you to give me it with nothin' to show for it, Sue,” he -told her. “I would n't ask that. I would n't take it if you offered it to -me that way. I aim to give you my note for it, my regular signed note, -drawin' seven per cent interest, until paid. A man might go back on his -word, but a note is a note. It's got to be paid as an' when specified.” - </p> -<p> -So Sue Redding had the note and Harvey had her money, and for a while he -enjoyed sitting behind a counter telling Lem to hand out canned corn and -bluing and to weigh out sugar. When Lem was at school Harvey found it more -comfortable to sit in the rocker and tell the children who came to buy -that he guessed he was out of whatever it was they asked for, and when he -had no more money with which to replenish his stock he sold what remained -of the grocery and took up the junk business. -</p> -<p> -The junk business had the advantage of being a slow, sedentary business. -When one wished one could sit and smoke; when the weather was favorable -one could tell Lem to harness the horse and then take a slow, comfortable -drive through bough-shaded streets, nobly heralded by clanking cowbells. -There was no money to be made in the junk business as Harvey conducted it, -but there could not be much loss. And always, regularly, the twenty-five -dollars allowance came to him on the first of the month. It was ideal. -Even Moses Shuder, despite Harvey's complaints, was a blessing. He was an -excuse for the lack of profit in the junk business and he was something to -talk of and grow angry about. Harvey seemed to be, at last, in an ideal -business, and one in which he could remain forever. And then the old horse -died. -</p> -<p> -When Lem, sent to feed the horse, came back from the shack at the far end -of the lot and reported that the old horse was dead, Harvey “dod-basted” - his luck heartily. -</p> -<p> -“Well,” he drawled a moment later, “if he's dead he's dead, an' it ain't -no fault of mine. You go downtown, Lem, an' see who you can git to haul -him away for about two dollars.” - </p> -<p> -The boy hurried away. Harvey puffed at his pipe and looked out of the gate -of the junkyard at the street. It was late June. Now and then he slapped -the bald spot on his head vigorously. He was giving things more thought -than he had given anything in years. His affairs had reached a crisis. He -could not be a junkman without a horse and he had no money with which to -buy another horse. He owed Sue five hundred dollars and, the way she had -been pressing him for payments recently, he knew she was not likely to -lend him more. She was pestering him unmercifully for what he already owed -her. -</p> -<p> -With his twenty-five dollars a month he could get along well enough, with -no business to demand part of it, but he saw no comfort in life if Sue was -to be continually drumming at him and nagging him for the repayment of the -money. Except for Sue he could give up the pretense of being in business -and take life comfortable, but Sue had only left him in semi-peace because -he appeared to be doing business. When she learned that he was not even -attempting to make money, she would be too annoying for comfort. Harvey -sighed heavily and took up his book. It was the “Lives of the Saints.” - </p> -<p> -When Lem returned with a negro and a team of horses, Harvey put his hand -in his trousers' pocket and gave the negro two dollars and went on -reading. A few minutes later he looked up from his book, for the negro's -team had stopped with their noses at his shoulder. -</p> -<p> -“Say, what you haulin' that carcass out this way for?” Harvey demanded. -“Whyn't you take it out the back way?” - </p> -<p> -“'Cause, boss, de gate ain't wide 'nuff. Got to go out dis yere way.” - </p> -<p> -“Well, dod-baste it! I guess I got to move,” said Harvey, and he got out -of his rocker, groaned and moved it three feet to the left, and lost -himself in the “Lives of the Saints” again. -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -CHAPTER II -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">R</span>iverbank in June is beautiful. Climbing the hills above the Mississippi -the streets are arches of elms and maples, the grass richly green, and the -shrubs are in blossom. -</p> -<p> -Up one of these rather steep hill streets, the last day of June, Harvey -Redding climbed, with Lem now at his side and now falling behind to -investigate something that caught his attention. Harvey was hot. He had -put on a coat and the sun was warm and the climb stiff for a fat man. He -stopped once in a while to take off his hat and wipe his face. When he did -he called to Lem with unwonted gentleness. -</p> -<p> -“Lem, you come here! Don't be strayin' around all over the neighborhood!” - </p> -<p> -To these mild commands Lem paid no attention whatever. -</p> -<p> -Occasionally, but not often, some one passed them, going up or down the -hill. To some of these Harvey spoke, stopping for long conversations about -the weather or similar exciting subjects. Those he did not know went by -without speaking. Now and then a boy went by and Lem straightened up and -looked at him. -</p> -<p> -The peculiar thing was that although Harvey was on his way to see his -creditor sister his fat, puffy face was strangely placid. Now and then, -when he paused for breath he folded his plump hands across his plump -belly; when he spoke to a foot passenger it was slowly, with carefully -chosen words and in a gentle voice. He was almost meek. -</p> -<p> -There was something else peculiar about Harvey this day. He was not -smoking his old black pipe. You might have said that he knew Susan would -give him Hail Columbia, and that he had prepared for it by assuming in -advance an attitude of perfect non-resistance, but this was not the secret -of his strangely gentle demeanor. -</p> -<p> -It was rather late in the afternoon, the warmest time of day. Beyond the -neatly painted fences and the trimmed lawns the porches of some of the -houses were brightened by the white dresses of ladies. In some of the -yards the ladies, and now and then a young fellow, were playing croquet, -the balls clicking together with a pleasant sound of well-seasoned wood. -Lem put his face to the fences and stared in at these games while Harvey -puffed on ahead. -</p> -<p> -At Sue Redding's gate Harvey paused to wipe his face. The place was large, -one hundred and twenty feet of white picket fence along the walk, with a -terrace of six feet or more rising steeply inside the fence, so that only -at the gate and beyond it could a man see those who sat on the wide porch. -Harvey looked at the porch anxiously, but even at that distance—the -big, white house was set far back—he could see that Sue was not on -the porch, and he was relieved. -</p> -<p> -“Come here, Lem, dod—I mean, come here, Lem,” he ordered. “Lemme -look at your face. Don't seem to do no good to wash your face at all. Well—” - </p> -<p> -He opened the gate and climbed the steps to the walk that led between two -rows of pine trees to the porch. -</p> -<p> -Two young women, white-clad, were sitting on the step of the porch. One -was one of Miss Redding's boarders; the other from a house across the way. -</p> -<p> -“Miss Redding?” said the boarder, whom -</p> -<p> -Harvey did not remember to have seen before. “She's in the kitchen, I -think. I'll call her—” - </p> -<p> -“Nemmine,” said Harvey. “Me an' Lem'll go right through. I'm her brother,” - he added in explanation. He opened the screen door and passed into the -cool, deep hall. Lem followed him. -</p> -<p> -Sue Redding was making cookies, cutting them out of the flattened dough -with a fluted dough-cutter. She was a large woman, almost as heavy as -Harvey himself, but remarkably quick in every movement for one so heavy. -She turned when Harvey entered, but she did not seem particularly pleased -to see him. -</p> -<p> -“Hello, Lem,” she said, greeting the boy first. “What you want now, -Harvey? I don't suppose you've come to pay that note, it ain't likely.” - </p> -<p> -Harvey seated himself ponderously on one of the kitchen chairs. -</p> -<p> -“I come to tell you, Sue, that I've given up business,” he said gently, as -one not wishing to arouse anger. -</p> -<p> -The effect was magical. Miss Redding turned on him, her face flushing, her -eyes gleaming. -</p> -<p> -“You come here and dare tell me that, in my own kitchen?” she burst forth. -“You don't dare give up business! What did you tell me when I let you go -out of the grocery business and into the junk business, Harvey Redding? -Did n't you say, 'If you let that note stand, I 'll keep in business until -I get it paid up if it takes all my born days!' All right! I suppose -you're here to pay up that note, then?” - </p> -<p> -“Well, now, Susan—” - </p> -<p> -“A nice right you have to come and say you are going to quit business! Of -all the good-for-nothing—” - </p> -<p> -“The hoss died on me,” said Harvey. “What's that to me?” asked Susan. “I -never heard that Moses Shuder ever stopped junking because he did n't have -a horse. I never heard that I gave up keeping boarding-house because my -cooks packed off without a fare-you-well. Horse, indeed! Harvey Redding, -you promised me, when I pushed you for payment when you gave up the -grocery business—” - </p> -<p> -“I know, Susan, I know!” - </p> -<p> -“And <i>I</i> know!” she declared. “I know what likelihood I've got to get -my money back if you give up the only chance you've got to earn money.” - </p> -<p> -“Of course, I'm mighty sorry,” Harvey began. -</p> -<p> -“What do I care for your sorry?” she snapped. “I don't want your sorry; I -want my money.” - </p> -<p> -“Well, I ain't got it, Susan,” Harvey said. “I ain't got nothin'. I ain't -no good at business. I ain't cut out for it, an' that's a fact. But I got -somethin' else in mind.” - </p> -<p> -“I doubt it.” - </p> -<p> -“I got an idee,” said Harvey, refusing to be angered, “that if I don't -have a business to pull me down all the time, I can save money out of what -I get every month an' pay you back that way. I might save ten dollars a -month to pay you back, or fifteen, maybe. It's so dod—it's so -expensive runnin' a business I just can't save nothin'. With this here -Moses Shuder into it, an' hosses dyin' on me, an' everything—” - </p> -<p> -Miss Redding turned back to her cookies to show that she considered them -far more important than anything Harvey might say. -</p> -<p> -“I dare say!” she said sarcastically. -</p> -<p> -“So that's what I come up here to offer you, Susan,” Harvey said. “I 'll -save an' pay. You can count on it.” - </p> -<p> -“Oh! I can, can I?” - </p> -<p> -“I can't do more than give you my word.” - </p> -<p> -“You gave me your note, I remember. I guess your word ain't no better. You -gave me your word you'd stay in business, as near as I can recall. I don't -take much stock in your word.” - </p> -<p> -Harvey was worried now. -</p> -<p> -“Susan,” he said, “I don't like you should take this here attitude. I'll -say to you I've turned over a new leaf. I 'll say to you I've got my -bear-in's at last. I know what I was born to be. Business is no good for -me. I know what I was intended for now, but if you're goin' to harass me -day by day about that money—” - </p> -<p> -“You bet I'm going to harass you!” said Susan unfeelingly. “If I don't I -won't get back a cent, let alone interest. I'll harass! Make sure of -that.” - </p> -<p> -“If there was any security I could give,” said Harvey. -</p> -<p> -“With your lot all mortgaged up? A nice lot of security you could give!” - She turned to him again. “I know you, Harvey. There ain't a bit of -anything in you but laziness. Not a mite. You'll promise whatever comes -into your head and the next minute you 'll go right back on your word and -oath and written note.” - </p> -<p> -“Susan, I'll pay you back regular, every month, out of my twenty-five -dollars, every cent I can scrape off—” - </p> -<p> -“I don't believe it!” - </p> -<p> -Harvey looked around helplessly. -</p> -<p> -“If I had any security to give you,” he said; and then his eye fell on -Lem, standing by the window, looking out at the chickens in the back yard. -“I 'll tell you what I 'll do Susan,” he said. “I 'll leave Lem with you. -I 'll leave him with you until I get that note paid up in full. He can do -chores an' help you out one way an' another. I 'll leave Lem with you -until I get you paid up.” The boy at the window turned and looked from his -father to his Aunt Susan. Young though he was he felt as if the solid -earth had fallen from beneath his feet. He had a sickening feeling that no -one wanted him or cared for him. -</p> -<p> -“He's like to be mine forever, then,” said Susan grimly. “But I'll take -him, although, goodness knows, he'll be more of a care than a help. It -just shows how worthless you are, Harvey Redding, offering to pawn your -only son like he was a piece of junk. You wait until I call Miss Percy. I -want a witness, I do!” - </p> -<p> -“Now, wait!” said Harvey; but she was gone. When she returned she brought -the boarder Harvey had seen on the porch. -</p> -<p> -“Now say it,” Miss Susan commanded. -</p> -<p> -“All I said was I would leave Lemuel—that's my boy yonder, Miss—to -Susan here, to keep until I got a sort of note I owe her paid up.” - </p> -<p> -“Note and interest,” said Susan. -</p> -<p> -“Note an' interest,” agreed Harvey. -</p> -<p> -“That you would leave Lemuel with me, like he was my own, with no fussing -or interfering from you, Harvey. That's the understanding. Like he was my -own son. Until that note and interest is paid up.” - </p> -<p> -“Only you ain't to harass me,” stipulated Harvey. “I'm to be left alone. I -ain't to be everlastin'ly nagged.” - </p> -<p> -“That's part of it,” agreed Miss Redding grimly, “if you pay on that note -regularly.” - </p> -<p> -The smile that had beautified Lorna Percy's face when she entered the -kitchen was gone now. She looked at the boy by the window. Harvey did not -dare look at him, nor did Miss Susan. There was something monstrous in -thus putting the child in pawn. -</p> -<p> -“Well, then?” said Harvey, rising heavily from his chair. -</p> -<p> -Lem looked at him, his eyes filling with tears. “Am I goin' to stay here?” - he asked for-sakenly. -</p> -<p> -“Oh! you'll love it here,” cried Lorna, going to him suddenly and kneeling -before him and putting an arm around him. “Such cookies! Such a yard to -play in!” - </p> -<p> -“Yes, I guess you'll stay here awhile, Lem,” Harvey said slowly. “You'll -be a good boy for your aunt, won't you? You won't cut up any ruckus? You -be a good boy, Lem, an' I dare say I 'll get you again before long.” - </p> -<p> -Lorna looked up at Miss Susan. There were tears in the girl's eyes, too. -</p> -<p> -“May n't I take him out on the porch until the cookies are baked, Miss -Susan?” she pleaded. -</p> -<p> -“Do so,” said Miss Redding grimly. “I want a couple of words with my -brother.” - </p> -<p> -“Well, good-bye, Lem,” Harvey said hesitantly. -</p> -<p> -“Good-bye,” the boy answered, and Miss Percy took his hand and led him -away. -</p> -<p> -Miss Susan finished cutting her cookies, placed them in the pan, pushed -the pan in the oven, and slammed the oven door before she turned to -Harvey. -</p> -<p> -“And I don't want any interference with the way I mean to raise him,” she -said. “If so be you ever get me paid back you'll have him again. But not -until then. And all I can say is I'll do by him as if he was my own child. -So that settles that! And now, Harvey, what do you mean to do with -yourself if you don't mean to do business?” - </p> -<p> -Harvey cleared his throat. -</p> -<p> -“I ain't come to this decision sudden, Susan,” he said defensively. “I've -thought it over a lot. I've read a lot on it an' studied it over, an' I -feel it is what I was meant for. There ain't any reason why there should -n't be one now, any more than in old times if only somebody was inclined -that way an' took to it serious enough. I've studied how all of them did, -an' what they did—” - </p> -<p> -“For the land's sake!” exclaimed Miss Susan, “whatever is it you mean to -be?” - </p> -<p> -“Well,” said Harvey, folding his fat hands across his stomach, “I've been -studyin' up about saints in a 'Lives of the Saints' book, Susan, an' if I -can have a fair show at it I'm goin' to be a saint, a regular saint, -Susan, like them they had in the old times.” - </p> -<p> -“Great land of goodness!” Miss Susan cried, and she looked at Harvey with -amazement, but it was evident he meant it. -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -CHAPTER III -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>n many respects Harvey's desire to be a saint might be considered -rational and even praiseworthy. If there are no officially recognized -twentieth-century saints, it is probably because other lines of high -endeavor have seemed more attractive to those who might more or less -easily qualify. It must be admitted that there is nothing essentially -impossible in the idea of a twentieth-century saint. In reading the “Lives -of the Saints” that had been his companion so long, Harvey had seen this -quite clearly. To be a saint it was only necessary to be absolutely good, -to be free from all great and small sins and faults, and to be strikingly -distinguished for acts of piety, grace, abnegation, and for nobility of -soul. -</p> -<p> -Harvey considered that his peculiar position in life, now that he had -given up the junk business, gave him exceptional opportunity to be a -saint. For one thing he had no wife, and a wife is often a real impediment -in the path of a man who wants to be a saint. He had no business cares to -distract his thoughts from the higher things, and he had twenty-five -dollars a month, less what he might find it necessary to pay Susan on -account of the note. In many ways, as Harvey recognized, a small but -regular income might be of great assistance to one who wished to be a -first-class modern saint. Even Susan's act of demanding that Lem be left -in pawn with her had its compensations, for while Harvey had not thought -of Lem as a drawback, he realized now that since he was relieved of the -care of Lem he was practically free from everything in the way of worldly -ties. -</p> -<p> -While we may speak lightly of Harvey's announced intention, it must not be -thought that he was taking up the life of a saint in any light spirit. He -was most serious. Although the deeds of Cap. Collier and Dead-Eye Dick had -thrilled him, he had never seriously imagined himself becoming a detective -or a bad man of the plains. He knew he was not so constituted as to follow -either career successfully. He admired Cap. Collier, but he did not -imagine himself becoming a Cap. Collier; he liked to read about a Dead-Eye -Dick, but never wanted to be one. He felt he did not have the necessary -vigor. A saint was, however, something he felt himself peculiarly fitted -to be. -</p> -<p> -In reading the book that had turned his thoughts toward sainthood, Harvey -had admired the saints as fully and whole-heartedly as he had admired Cap. -Collier and other heroes, but he had, in addition, continually imagined -himself in the place of the saints of whom he was reading. He saw himself -undergoing trials and tests and emerging triumphantly. He felt—as is -true—that a saint is the greatest hero of all heroes, and the most -deserving of praise, and the surest to receive worship and admiration. -</p> -<p> -Harvey did not admire all the saints in his book equally. He preferred the -sweet-hearted, non-resisting type to that which went forth seeking trouble -and martyrdom, and the first suggestion of saintship in connection with -himself came with the thought that it would be extremely pleasant to have -nothing to do but be kind and good and gentle and sweet-tempered, doing no -evil and thinking no evil. With about twenty-five dollars a month, a -comfortable rocking-chair, a good-enough shack, and a sunny ex-junkyard, -being a saint would be a pleasant job. Later came the thought that it -would be doubly pleasant to be known, to all Riverbank, and in time to the -whole world, as “the good Saint Harvey of Riverbank.” He feared Riverbank -did not consider him of much importance now, that it rather scorned him, -but if, by combining the austerity of a Saint Anthony and the sweetness of -a Saint Francis of Assisi, he became known for his saintly qualities, -there would be real tears shed when Death came to claim him. -</p> -<p> -“Great land of goodness!” exclaimed Susan, when Harvey had spoken. “A -saint? Are you going crazy, Harvey Redding? You look like a saint, don't -you? What do you mean by such talk?” - </p> -<p> -“Why, dod-baste it—” Harvey said angrily, and then, realizing what -he had said, calmed suddenly. “I take that back, Susan. That swear was a -slip-up. It come out because I ain't fully used to bein' a saint yet. I -ain't rightly started at it yet, but I'm goin' to be if I can manage the -job, an' I don't know why I can't. When I say saint I mean saint, an' -that's the whole of it. I hope to live an' die clean an' sweet an' proper, -free from sin an' evil, doin' no wrong—” - </p> -<p> -“And doing nothing else, I guess,” said Susan scornfully. “Well, it's none -of my business. If you don't lazy at one thing you 'll lazy at another, -and I guess it don't matter what it is. Be all the saint you want to, but -don't you forget I'm expecting regular payments, once a month, on that -note, saint or no saint. Has Lem got any other clothes?” - </p> -<p> -“No. Nothin' but another shirt. His shoes ain't worth fetchin'.” - </p> -<p> -“I did n't expect he had. He looks like a ragamuffin, poor boy. Who do you -expect to do your chores when you have n't got him?” - </p> -<p> -“I will, myself. I would anyway. A saint ought to.” - </p> -<p> -“Well, I don't know what a saint ought or oughtn't, but a -boarding-house-keeper has to get supper the same one day as another,” said -Susan meaningly, “and now's when I begin, so I won't keep you any longer -than need be. You get that money every first of the month, don't you?” - </p> -<p> -“Every fifteenth,” said Harvey, taking up his hat. -</p> -<p> -“All right. If you ain't here with a share of it every sixteenth you'll -hear from me and mighty dear hearing, too,” said Susan. “If you want to -say good-bye to Lem you can go out the front way.” - </p> -<p> -Harvey went toward the kitchen door. -</p> -<p> -“It might set him off cryin',” he said. “That would n't be no use. Well, -so long, Susan.” - </p> -<p> -“Good-bye,” she said, turning her back on him to look at her cookies. -</p> -<p> -Harvey went out. Any twinge of conscience he might have had because he was -leaving Lem was made less by the combined thought that Lem would be well -cared for by Susan and that it would be a great relief not to have to -worry about him. From now on he could give his time and his mind entirely -to the job of being a saint, with nothing to annoy him. -</p> -<p> -As he walked down the hill he considered the saint business from all -sides. He walked more rapidly than was his custom, for he was eager to get -home and begin being a saint. He meant to be gentle and kind, saying no -harsh word, avoiding anger and profanity, eating little and drinking only -pure, sparkling water, dressing simply and doing good in a noble, -unobtrusive way. -</p> -<p> -One matter that he had dwelt upon now and then, but had put aside as too -difficult of solution while his mind was still occupied with a junkman's -cares, now demanded attention. A saint must specialize. One point had made -itself clear to Harvey while he was reading his “Lives of the Saints”—that -it was not enough for a saint to <i>be</i> good; a saint must <i>do</i> -something. For a while, vaguely, Harvey had thought he might take up the -specialty of being kind to all children. Now this seemed unsuitable. A -saint who began his career by shifting the care and keep of his own son on -to another could hardly expect to win praise by petting other children. -</p> -<p> -Somewhere between Susan's house and his own place the great solution came -to him—stray dogs! The tender phrase, “Little Brother to the Stray -Dogs,” formed itself in his mind as the one by which he would be known, -and he saw himself done in marble, after his regretted death, with a -small, appealing dog in his arms and a group of large, eager dogs grouped -at his feet, their eyes on his face. One of his hands would rest on the -head of one of the dogs pro-tectingly. He would be thin, of course. His -long fasts and his diet of bread and water would fix that. -</p> -<p> -Riverbank would be quite able to furnish the stray dogs. There were more -stray dogs in Riverbank than could be counted. Since the City Council had -withdrawn the bonus of twenty-five cents per dog that had formerly given -the Dog Warden Schulig an active interest in dog-catching, Riverbank -seemed to have become a haven for all the stray dogs in Iowa. There were -plenty of stray dogs. The junkyard was a fine place in which to shelter -stray dogs. It was quite possible that in time the rumor would get around -that because of the purity of his heart, Harvey had come to understand dog -language and could converse with dogs as one man converses with another. -He might even be able to do it. Dod-baste it all, he <i>would</i> be a -saint! He would do the job proper. Harvey was eager to reach the junkyard -and make his final arrangements and begin. -</p> -<p> -“The minute I get inside my gate,” he said to himself; “the minute I get -inside my gate!” - </p> -<p> -He turned the corner into Elm Street. He perspired with eagerness and -haste. He reached the gate. He stopped there and looked up and down the -street and made a gesture of renunciation with his fat hands, like one -putting aside the world forever. -</p> -<p> -Harvey pushed open the gate with something like solemnity and stopped -short. Moses Shuder was sitting on the step of the shanty, the skirts of -his long, black coat dabbling in the dust while his hands toyed with the -ears of a spotted dog. Shuder looked up, his eyes appealing, as Harvey -entered. He clasped his hands at his chest in the fashion that was one of -his characteristics and a meek smile wrinkled his face without relieving -the anxiety that showed on his countenance. -</p> -<p> -“Misder Redink,” he said, arising. -</p> -<p> -Then Harvey saw that at his feet lay a large, roughly squared chunk of -lead. It was of a weight of some thirty pounds. Harvey knew it well. It -had been his last purchase as a junkman, Lon bringing it to the yard in -company with two boys known to Harvey only as Swatty and Bony. The chunk -of lead should not have been at Moses Shuder's feet; it should have been -at the far end of the yard, where Lem had carried it. -</p> -<p> -“What you doin' with that hunk o' lead?” Harvey demanded. -</p> -<p> -“Misder Redink, please!” begged Shuder. “I want no trouble.” - </p> -<p> -“Then you take that chunk o' lead back where you got it,” said Harvey, his -face flushing. “I don't sell you nothin'. I don't sell nobody nothin'. I'm -out o' this junk business—” - </p> -<p> -“Misder Redink, please!” begged Moses Shuder, more meekly than before. “I -do not ask you to sell. Only my rights I ask it of any man. It is my lead. -Misder Redink, please, I do not say you are a thief—” - </p> -<p> -“Well, dod-baste you!” cried Harvey, swelling. “Zhust a minute, please, -Misder Redink,” begged Shuder. “Mit my own money I bought this lead, I -assure you, and put it in my junkyard, Misder Redink, but that I should -get you arrested I never so much as gave it a thought, Misder Redink, -believe me! Why should I, Misder Redink? Do I blame you? No! If your boy -stoled it from me—” - </p> -<p> -“What?” Harvey shouted, taking a step toward Shuder. -</p> -<p> -“Please, Misder Redink! Should I say it if I did not see it with my own -two eyes? Climbing over my fence.” - </p> -<p> -“You're a liar.” - </p> -<p> -Shuder shrugged his shoulders. -</p> -<p> -“No, Misder Redink; Rebecca could tell you the same story. I ain't sore, -Misder Redink. Boys would be boys, always. It is right I should watch my -yard. But my lead is my lead, Misder Redink. That your boy Lemuel should -steal it from me is nothing. But I should have my lead back, Misder -Redink. Sure!” - </p> -<p> -Shuder put his hands on the chunk of lead. At that moment a vast and -uncontrollable rage filled Harvey and he raised his fat hand and brought -it down on Shuder's hat, crushing it over his eyes. He grasped Shuder by -the shoulders and ran him out of the yard, giving him a final push that -sent him sprawling in the street. -</p> -<p> -Then, still raging, he turned while Shuder got to his feet. The spotted -dog caught Harvey's eye. He drew back his foot and kicked the dog, and the -surprised animal yelped and leaped out of the yard and down the street. -</p> -<p> -“There, dod-baste you!” Harvey panted, shaking his fist at Shuder, who -stood safely in the middle of the street. “That'll show you! An' don't you -or your dog ever come into this yard again or I 'll handle you worse, a -big sight!” - </p> -<p> -Moses Shuder looked at his damaged hat. “Two dollars,” he said, and shook -his head sadly. “But I should complain! What you do to me and my hat the -law will take care of, and my lead the law will take care of, if you want -it that way, Misder Redink, but that a man should kick a dog—” - </p> -<p> -“An' I 'll kick your dog out o' this yard every time it comes in,” shouted -Harvey. -</p> -<p> -Moses Shuder raised his hands. -</p> -<p> -“It is not my dog,” he said. “It is a stray dog.” - </p> -<p> -The saintly career of Saint Harvey, the “Little Brother to the Stray -Dogs,” seemed to have begun inauspiciously. -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -CHAPTER IV -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hile Lorna Percy was in Susan Redding's kitchen acting as a witness to -the compact that placed Lem Redding in pawn to his aunt for a period that -seemed likely to be extended indefinitely, another lady had come down the -front stairs, and after greeting the young woman on the front porch, had -occupied one of the chairs. This was Miss Henrietta Bates. -</p> -<p> -“I thought Lorna was here,” she said, as she seated herself. “Did n't I -hear her voice?” - </p> -<p> -“Miss Susan called her into the kitchen,” said the other. “I think she -will be out in a moment.” Miss Henrietta held up an envelope. -</p> -<p> -“See what I've got?” she said, smiling. -</p> -<p> -“Not another letter from Bill?” - </p> -<p> -“Just that,” said Henrietta. “And the dearest letter! There's a part I -want to read to you and Lorna. I don't bore you with my Bill, do I, Gay?” - </p> -<p> -“Bore? What an idea!” - </p> -<p> -“Sometimes I'm afraid I do. If it wasn't that his letters are so -intelligent. They don't seem to me like ordinary love-letters. They don't -seem to you like the common wishy-washy stuff men write, do they?” - </p> -<p> -“Well, you know I have no experience in love-letters—” - </p> -<p> -“Poor Gay!” said Miss Bates, and laughed. “But I do think I'm fortunate in -having a man like Bill choose me, don't you? I do wish he could come East -this summer. I wish you and Lorna could meet him. He's so—so -different from the men here.” - </p> -<p> -The three, who had become close friends, were school teachers, and that -was how two of them happened to be boarding at Miss Redding's, which was -an exceptionally pleasant boardinghouse. This was the third year Lorna -Percy had boarded with Miss Redding. Miss Bates had a year more to her -credit. Gay Loring lived at home, across the street, with her parents. -</p> -<p> -In their quiet, small-town lives the love-letters of Henrietta's William -Vane had been important events. William was the first and only man to -propose to any one of the three, and although Gay and Lorna had never seen -him they had seen his portrait and they had heard a vast amount about him. -Henrietta spoke of her William Vane most frankly. She was evidently deeply -in love with him. -</p> -<p> -Gay and Lorna were unequivocally glad on Henrietta's account. Of Gay and -Lorna it is enough to say here that they were still young and fresh and -attractive. Of Henrietta it may be said that she was no longer quite -young, but that she was still fresh and attractive. In many ways she was -livelier than her two friends, and had as youthful manners. Although she -was at least forty, she had never taken to the type of garb that a woman -dons when she is willing to advertise the fact that her youth has fled. -Nor had Henrietta Bates any great reason to advertise that. She was still -vigorous and bright-eyed, not a gray hair was to be seen on her head, and -her face was full and her complexion clear and pleasing. -</p> -<p> -When Lorna came from the kitchen, bringing young Lem, she noticed -immediately the square envelope held by Henrietta. -</p> -<p> -“What, another?” she exclaimed eagerly. “Henrietta, you are the luckiest -girl! What does Billy say this time?” - </p> -<p> -“I'm going to read part of the letter to you,” said Henrietta. “Sit down -and be a good girl and listen. Who is the young man? Isn't it Lemuel?” - </p> -<p> -“Yes, mam,” said Lem shyly. “I'm Lem.” - </p> -<p> -“He is going to live here now, too,” said Lorna gayly, “are n't you, Lem?” - </p> -<p> -“Yes, mam.” - </p> -<p> -“So you see!” said Lorna, seating herself on the steps and drawing Lem -down beside her. “You may not be the only one with a sweetheart, -Henrietta. Lem is going to be mine, are n't you, Lem?” - </p> -<p> -“I don't know,” said Lem, with a boy's diffidence. -</p> -<p> -“Oh, you must not say that. You must say, 'I'd love to, Miss Percy.' Only -you must say, 'I'd love to, Lorna.' My name is Lorna. I'll call you Lem -and you 'll call me Lorna. Will you?” - </p> -<p> -“I don't care.” - </p> -<p> -Gay erupted from her chair in a protesting billow of white and seated -herself at Lem's other side. -</p> -<p> -“Now, I'll not stand for this at all, Lorna Percy!” she complained. “You -shan't kidnap him all for yourself. I have as much right to him as you -have. You'll be my sweetheart, too, won't you, Lem?” - </p> -<p> -“Yes'm, I guess so.” - </p> -<p> -“There, you mean thing!” Gay laughed at Lorna. “You see! He's as much mine -as he is yours.” - </p> -<p> -It was pretty play and Lem did not mind it much. He had a boy's -deep-grounded belief that all girls were silly, and these were only older -girls. -</p> -<p> -“In this letter Bill says—” said Henrietta Bates. -</p> -<p> -Gay and Lorna turned their heads. -</p> -<p> -“Oh, excuse me, Henrietta!” Gay cried. “We are truly just crazy to hear -what your Bill says, but having a really, truly sweetheart of our own is -such a new experience—” - </p> -<p> -“Come down on the steps and be comfy,” added Lorna. -</p> -<p> -“No, I'll read it here,” said Henrietta, and she opened the letter. “Well—there's -part I can't read to you—” - </p> -<p> -“Of course.” - </p> -<p> -“And then he says, 'I thought of you a hundred times while on my fishing -trip. Some day you must learn to cast a fly so we can make some of these -trips together. You would be the best of companions. And now, dearest -girl, I want to ask you the most important question of all. Do you think -you can make your preparations so that we can be married in August?'” - </p> -<p> -“In August!” cried Gay. “I thought it was going to be impossible before -next year, Etta?” - </p> -<p> -“It is a change in his plans,” said Henrietta. “Shall I read the rest?” - </p> -<p> -“Do, please,” said Gay, and “Yes, indeed,” said Lorna. -</p> -<p> -“'I'm asking this, dear,' he goes on,” said Henrietta, “'because I have -just had most wonderful news. I'm to be sent to Africa. A big job'—the -biggest I ever had. It is wonderful country and I want you to enjoy it -with me. It is too far to go without you. So it must be an August wedding -because we have to sail in September!'” - </p> -<p> -“Henrietta! How grand!” Gay cried. -</p> -<p> -“Isn't it?” Henrietta agreed. “Africa, girls! Just think of it! Am I not -the luckiest thing?” - </p> -<p> -“Think of it, young Lemuel,” Lorna said. -</p> -<p> -“Her sweetheart is going to marry her and carry her off to Africa, where -the lions are. You see what I shall expect of you, young man. The very -least you can do is to get ready to carry me off to Europe.” - </p> -<p> -“And me to Asia,” said Gay. -</p> -<p> -Lem said nothing. He knew they were teasing. “And listen to this, girls,” - Henrietta continued. “'You'll forgive me, Etta dear, for asking you to -agree to such an early wedding. I know it is apt to find you unprepared -and you must let your crude lover do the unconventional this once. I want -you to tell me I can send you a few of my miserable dollars—ten -hundred, let us say, so they may be made happy dollars by aiding your -preparations.'” - </p> -<p> -Henrietta folded the letter. -</p> -<p> -“What do you think of that, Gay?” she asked. “Should I let him? Would it -be right?” - </p> -<p> -“Of course! Why not, under the circumstances?” Gay answered. -</p> -<p> -“When he asked you to go so far and so soon,” said Lorna. -</p> -<p> -“I hoped you would say so,” said Henrietta. “I only wanted your approval. -You know what it means to me. It will let me use what I have saved—the -money I would never touch—and I can pay you both all I owe you, and -what I owe Miss Susan. It makes everything so much easier and happier for -me. And of course you'll help me get ready; I'll have so much to do!” - </p> -<p> -“As if we were n't mad to,” said Gay. “You must write him at once, -Henrietta; tell him it is all right.” - </p> -<p> -“I 'm going right upstairs to do it this minute,” Henrietta answered, and -she went into the house, humming happily. -</p> -<p> -Gay looked at Lorna quizzically. Lorna laughed. -</p> -<p> -“What do you think of it now?” Gay asked in a low tone. “Did you notice? -She would not come down to the step to read the letter.” - </p> -<p> -“I did notice. And did you see the ink spot on the back of the envelope? -The same spot that was on it when she read the last letter from her -'William' and the one before that?” - </p> -<p> -“Yes, I did notice. I'm positive it is the same envelope. I believe you -are right; I believe she does write the letters to herself. Is n't it <i>funny?</i> -Is n't it amazing?” - </p> -<p> -“Or sad or something?” Lorna said. “Gay, what do you think of it, really? -What does it mean?” - </p> -<p> -“Did she try to borrow some money from you this morning?” Gay asked. -</p> -<p> -“Yes, twenty-five dollars, but I did not have it.” - </p> -<p> -“I did have twenty. She got that,” Gay said and giggled. -</p> -<p> -“Then you'll see! She'll get another present from her dear William -to-morrow,” Lorna said. “Is n't it just as I said; every time she borrows -from us she gets a present from dear William? You'll see. It will be -something worth about twenty dollars. Say, Gay—” - </p> -<p> -“Yes?” - </p> -<p> -“You know I said I did not believe her William was really engaged to her -at all?” - </p> -<p> -“Yes?” - </p> -<p> -“Well, I don't believe there <i>is</i> any William. I don't believe he -exists. I think Henrietta made him up entirely. I believe she invented -him.” - </p> -<p> -“Oh, lovely!” Gay cooed. “Is n't she wonderful? But why, Lorna? Why should -she?” - </p> -<p> -“That's what I've been wondering. Not just to get money from us, because -she uses it to buy the presents she says her William sends. She has no -need to buy presents for her William to send. We would believe in her -William quite as easily without the presents.” - </p> -<p> -“Is n't it exciting?” Gay cooed again. -</p> -<p> -“Well, <i>I</i> never knew anything like it, I'll say that,” agreed Lorna. -“When you think of the trouble she has gone to, and how she has kept it -up. Gay, do you think she has any idea we don't believe her?” - </p> -<p> -“Of course not! But isn't it the strangest thing for anybody to do?” - </p> -<p> -“I don't know,” said Lorna thoughtfully. “I've been thinking about it a -lot since I first had a suspicion, and it is n't really so strange. You -know what Henrietta is like. She loves to shine. She hates to play second -fiddle. Do you remember when we first heard of her dear Billy?” - </p> -<p> -“When she was at Spirit Lake, where she said she met him. She wrote about -the engagement from there.” - </p> -<p> -“Yes,” said Lorna; “and do you remember what was going on here in -Riverbank just before she went on vacation?” - </p> -<p> -“I don't remember.” - </p> -<p> -“Don't tell me you don't remember how Carter Bruce was rushing you then!” - scoffed Lorna. “I remember perfectly well that Henrietta and I agreed you -and Carter would be engaged before the summer ended.” - </p> -<p> -“Oh, Carter Bruce!” admitted Gay. “Of course, he was fussing around. He is -always fussing around. Or was.” - </p> -<p> -“Yes, and we thought he was going to steal you, Gay. Well—that's the -answer!” - </p> -<p> -“You mean—” - </p> -<p> -“Of course! Henrietta just couldn't stand having you engaged when she was -not. So she invented Billy Vane while she was at Spirit Lake, and told us -he had gone out to Colorado, where he would be out of the way.” - </p> -<p> -“But who writes her the letters from Colorado?” - </p> -<p> -“How do I know? She may have a brother out there. That is easy. She would -have dear Bill go wherever there was some one who could write her a letter -now and then. And Henrietta does the rest. It is n't so impossible when -you think of it that way, is it? After she had invented dear Bill it was -natural enough that she should keep him alive and interested, when we were -so interested.” - </p> -<p> -“Lorna, it is the greatest thing I ever heard of!” exclaimed Gay. “And I -think you are a wizard to discover the truth.” - </p> -<p> -“No, I'm not,” said Lorna. “Just think back, Gay. The strange thing is -that we did not hit on it sooner. Think! Can't you remember a hundred -things that should have made us suspicious?” - </p> -<p> -“Yes,” Gay admitted. “Especially the presents, and the way she borrows -just before the presents come.” - </p> -<p> -“And never letting us see a single letter, and always moving away when we -come near her when she is reading them to us, and never getting another -photograph from Billy '—and a thousand things.” - </p> -<p> -“Yes,” said Gay again; and then, “Are you going to do anything about it?” - </p> -<p> -“Do? No, why should I? If she enjoys it I'm sure we do. Only—we must -not lend her any more, if we can help it. There's no reason why we should -lend her our hard-earned money to buy presents for herself with.” - </p> -<p> -Gay giggled. -</p> -<p> -“How much does she owe you now?” she asked. -</p> -<p> -“Almost two hundred.” - </p> -<p> -“And me over one hundred and fifty! Is n't it rich?” - </p> -<p> -“It's peachy!” - </p> -<p> -In her own room Henrietta Bates was looking at her comely face reflected -in her mirror. She was pleased with it, and she glanced down at the three -framed photographs on her dresser. One was the picture of the imaginary -William Vane, the others were of her dearest friends—Gay and Lorna. -To William's portrait she gave only a careless glance. She lingered over -Gay's and Lorna's. -</p> -<p> -“Stupid dears!” she thought. “So you have found me out? It has taken you -long enough, I'm sure. I wonder what next.” - </p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -CHAPTER V -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>s Lorna Percy, Lem, and Gay Loring sat on the porch a jaunty straw hat -came into view above the terrace, and, as it reached the gate, proved to -be on the head of a man as jaunty as the hat. The man paused at the gate -to look up the street. -</p> -<p> -“There's Freeman,” said Lorna. “He's home early.” - </p> -<p> -“Not so very. It is getting toward supper-time.” - </p> -<p> -Gay answered. “I'd better be getting home to help mother set the table.” - </p> -<p> -“Poor excuse!” teased Lorna. “But run along if you want to have a nice -little session at the gate all by your lonies. Gay—” - </p> -<p> -“Yes?” - </p> -<p> -“I <i>do</i> think Freeman is in love with you.” - </p> -<p> -Gay colored. -</p> -<p> -“Why?” she asked. -</p> -<p> -“The way he acts, and everything. Don't you think so yourself?” - </p> -<p> -“Well—he's persistent enough. He's never said anything outright. Not -anything much. I don't know whether he loves me or just wants to see how -far he can go, Lorna.” - </p> -<p> -Lorna was silent for a moment. -</p> -<p> -“I'd say I was glad if he was n't such a—you know, Gay. Flashy. -Don't you think he is rather flashy? Not very heavy. He's fast, too. I'd -rather have you like Carter Bruce.” - </p> -<p> -“For all I know he is a thousand miles from thinking anything serious,” - Gay answered. “I'm simply not going to take him seriously until he is -serious.” - </p> -<p> -“How old do you suppose he really is?” - </p> -<p> -“Twenty-five. Don't you think so?” - </p> -<p> -“I doubt it, Gay. He may be. It is hard to judge. He's queer. I don't like -him. He <i>is</i> queer sometimes. He—” - </p> -<p> -“Sh!” said Gay, indicating Lem, who was listening with all his ears. -</p> -<p> -“I forgot. You're such a quiet little boy,” she said to Lem. “Are you a -little pitcher with big ears?” - </p> -<p> -“Yes'm,” said Lem. “I guess so.” - </p> -<p> -“What I meant,” said Lorna to Gay, “was L-i-q-u-o-r. Have you suspected -it?” - </p> -<p> -“Ellicker,” said Lem. “What's that mean?” - </p> -<p> -“Hush!” said Lorna. “He's coming in.” Freeman Todder, the young man of -whom they were speaking, climbed the terrace steps slowly. He carried a -cane, which was an unusual bit of dandyism in Riverbank, and he was what -Miss Redding called “dressy.” Very few young fellows in Riverbank were -“dressy” and almost none of the older men. Trousers seldom or never were -creased on week days, for the “Sunday suit” held sway on the Sabbath and -at parties and dances. To be well dressed on a week day was almost a sign -of ungodliness, because the few who were well dressed were certainly apt -to be ungodly. They were thought to be interested in poker, woman, and -wine. -</p> -<p> -Freeman Todder, when he arrived in Riverbank, had almost immediately -affiliated himself with the dozen “dressy” young fellows. He was seen in -Alberson's drug store, in the Smokeorium, in front of Weltschaffel's -clothing store, and wherever the young bucks gathered. It was said that -his first labors in Riverbank were in the nature of holding a handful of -playing cards in Alberson's back room, in company with a number of other -young fellows, and it was some time before he had found a job. The job he -found was serving soda water in Alberson's store. In the winter, when the -soda trade was slack, he was behind Alberson's cigar counter. -</p> -<p> -Some wondered how Freeman Todder could live and dress on what Johnnie -Alberson paid him. Some guessed that Freeman “knocked down” some of the -change that passed through his hands, but those who knew Johnnie Alberson -best did not believe that. None who knew Johnnie ever believed he would -let even a penny that belonged to him go astray. -</p> -<p> -That Freeman could dress as he did and board at Miss Redding's—which -was not the cheapest place in Riverbank—and have silver dollars to -dink in his pocket, and do it on what Alberson paid, was manifestly -impossible. The answer that most of those who thought they were knowing -gave was “poker.” Even the other “dressy” youths said, “Poker.” Freeman -played a careful, not showy, game and did win now and then. No one ever -bothered to foot up his winnings and compare them with his losses. As a -matter of fact, Freeman Todder's net poker winnings would not have paid -for his showy shirts, the gayly striped cuffs of which always showed -liberally below his coat sleeves. -</p> -<p> -As he came up the walk toward the two girls on Miss Redding's porch steps, -he raised his hat, and then let it hang in his hand. -</p> -<p> -“Hello, one and all,” he said. “Who's the young gent you have clamped -between you there?” - </p> -<p> -“This is Lem,” said Lorna. “Lem's going to be among those present here -after this, are n't you, Lem?” - </p> -<p> -“Yes'm,” said Lem; and then to Freeman, “What's 'ellicker'?” - </p> -<p> -“Now hush, Lem!” said Lorna. -</p> -<p> -“Well, I want to know. What is it?” Lem insisted. “It's about <i>you</i>,” - he said, looking up at Freeman. “<i>She</i> said it. She said she expected -it about you.” - </p> -<p> -Lorna reddened. Freeman Todder's eyes narrowed for an instant; then he -smiled. -</p> -<p> -“I expect it is something devilish, then, son,” he said, “but it's -probably not half as bad as the truth. You'll learn that, if you associate -with this wicked man long. I'm a 'horrid example.' That right, Gay? -They'll take you by the hand, Lem, and point at me and say, 'See that man? -Beware! Do not be like him. He is a lost soul. He uses cigarettes and -blows the smoke through his nose.'” - </p> -<p> -“Hah! I can do that!” scoffed Lem. -</p> -<p> -“You're both of you wicked men, then,” said Gay, but lightly. -</p> -<p> -Lorna took Lem's hand. -</p> -<p> -“Come around the house with me,” she said. “I want you to help me pick a -lot of syringas for Gay,” and she dragged Lem away. Freeman seated himself -beside Gay. -</p> -<p> -Freeman Todder was not twenty-five, but something hard in his face and -eyes made him look older at times. His face was thin and his mouth like a -healed wound, so thin were his lips. He did not have much chin. He did not -look wholesome. He looked unsafe and cruel. -</p> -<p> -“L-i-q-u-o-r,” he spelled, and looked at Gay and laughed. “C-a-r-d-s. Also -d-i-c-e. I'm a regular Satan, ain't I?” - </p> -<p> -“Oh, Freeman!” she said reproachfully. “Don't be sarcastic. We were only—” - </p> -<p> -“Only talking me over. Well, that's something, anyway. That's a sort of -flattery.” - </p> -<p> -He laid his cane across his knees. -</p> -<p> -“You <i>have</i> been drinking, Freeman,” Gay said. -</p> -<p> -“Yes. I've had a couple too many. Do you know how I feel? Like this—whoops!” - He flung his hat off to the left on the lawn. “Whoops!” He threw his cane -to the right. -</p> -<p> -“Ah!” exclaimed Gay, as if he had intentionally hurt her. “Why do you?” - </p> -<p> -Freeman spread out his hand on his knee and looked at his fingers one by -one, raising each in turn. On one finger he wore a large, flashy ring. He -moved the finger so that the light flashed from the facets of the stone. -Suddenly he looked into the girl's eyes. -</p> -<p> -“Keep away from me, Gay,” he said seriously. “I'm no good. I'm warning -you, understand? Don't have anything to do with me. I'm bad business. I -like you, but I 'm bad business.” - </p> -<p> -“But, Freeman—” - </p> -<p> -“Not yet. You can 'but Freeman' me all you like when I get through, but -this is my hiss, this is the rattle of my snake buttons. You keep away -from me. I'm bad for you, and I'm saying so now because after this I won't -care a damn. This is my warning. After this you'll have to look out for -yourself. Do you understand what I'm saying?” - </p> -<p> -“Yes, but you don't really mean it.” - </p> -<p> -“I do mean it. I'm warning you. If you know what is good for you, you'll -never speak to me, or let me speak to you again: Once! Twice! Third and -last warning! Warned!” - </p> -<p> -He waited a moment. When he spoke it was no longer seriously, but in his -usual flippant tone. “Who is the Lem kid?” he asked. -</p> -<p> -“Miss Redding's nephew. His father left him here awhile ago. And—what -do you think? Henrietta's Bill has set the wedding day. I'm so glad for -Henrietta. She has been so sweet about waiting.” - </p> -<p> -It was evident that Gay had not taken Freeman's warning as seriously as -she might have taken it. Freeman raised his eyebrows with an effect like -that of shrugging one's shoulders. He had warned her, and seriously, and -that was more than he need have done. -</p> -<p> -“That so?” he said indifferently, referring to Henrietta. “Henrietta and -her Bill give me a pain.” - </p> -<p> -“Why? Do you know anything about them?” asked Gay eagerly. -</p> -<p> -“I? No. Why should I?” - </p> -<p> -“Haven't you suspected anything?” asked Gay. -</p> -<p> -Freeman turned and looked in her eyes. -</p> -<p> -“What do you suspect?” he asked as if the whole matter interested him -little. -</p> -<p> -“Well, we may be doing her the most awful injustice,” Gay said, “but Lorna -and I have been wondering if there <i>is</i> a Bill. We wonder if -Henrietta is n't just pretending there is a Billy Vane—and all.” - </p> -<p> -Freeman seemed more bored than interested. -</p> -<p> -“Why should she pretend a thing like that—a crazy thing like that?” - he asked indifferently. -</p> -<p> -“Don't you know how girls love to wear rings on their engagement fingers?” - asked Gay. “It's that sort of thing, Lorna and I think. It gives her a -romantic hue. She thinks it makes us feel she is fortunate. Is n't it -killing!” - </p> -<p> -Freeman looked at the ants scurrying across the walk at his feet. -</p> -<p> -“I don't know anything about it,” he said. “You girls may have seen a lot -I never saw. You would n't think of such a thing unless you had some -reason. How about all the presents she says he sends her?” - </p> -<p> -“We think she buys them herself,” Gay said. Freeman turned his hand and -looked at his long, well-kept nails. -</p> -<p> -“Can you keep a secret?” he asked. -</p> -<p> -“Indeed, yes!” - </p> -<p> -“Do you remember the silver-backed hand mirror Billy Vane sent her? With -her monogram engraved on it?” - </p> -<p> -“Yes.” - </p> -<p> -“All right! Johnnie Alberson ordered that for her from Chicago. I saw it -when it came and I saw her when she came into the store to pay the bill.” - </p> -<p> -“Why, Freeman Todder! And you just this minute said you didn't know -anything about it!” - </p> -<p> -“About there being no Billy Vane,” he explained. “There might be a Billy -Vane who did not do his duty in the way of presents. He might be a -close-fist. Your Henrietta might be afraid you would think he was a cheap -skate if presents did not come along regularly.” - </p> -<p> -Gay considered this. -</p> -<p> -“Yes,” she said, after a moment, “that might be, but we suspected there -was no Billy before we thought of the presents at all. Of course, the -presents she has to buy explain why she never has any money—why she -is always borrowing—but that is not all. You won't say a word, will -you, Freeman?” - </p> -<p> -“No. It don't interest me at all,” he said. Miss Redding, rosy-cheeked, -came to the door then, and tinkled a small supper-bell. Gay, with an -exclamation, jumped up and went to find Lem and Lorna and the promised -flowers, and Freeman Todder picked up his hat and cane. He hung the hat on -the rack in the hall and stood his cane in the umbrella jar and then -climbed the stairs. As he reached the top Henrietta Bates's door opened -and she came out. They met just outside her door and she slipped something -into his hand. -</p> -<p> -“There's twenty dollars,” she said in a whisper. “It is all I could get. -And I can't borrow any more. They are suspicious now.” - </p> -<p> -“But, my God, Et,” whispered Freeman Todder angrily. “Twenty dollars is -n't going to do me any good.” - </p> -<p> -“All I could get,” said Henrietta shortly, and she hurried down the stairs -to greet Lorna and Lem with the smiling face of a woman whose lover has -just set the happy day. -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -CHAPTER VI -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he next morning Miss Redding held a brief conversation at the breakfast -table regarding Lem's immediate future, the important question being -whether Lem should be sent to school. With two school teachers at the -table Susan felt she was sure to receive good advice. To Lem's delight the -unanimous opinion was that it was hardly worth while for him to go to -school during the brief tag end of the term remaining. When Henrietta -Bates said this, Miss Redding had no further doubts, for she had a very -high opinion of Miss Bates. There was something safe and solid about Miss -Bates that gave weight to her opinion. -</p> -<p> -Henrietta Bates had made an excellent impression on Miss Redding. -Henrietta was one of half a dozen out-of-town teachers who had hastened to -Riverbank at the time when, following the trouble over a certain Mrs. -Helmuth's case, the school board had arbitrarily decreed that never again -should a married woman teach in Riverbank's schools. The “foreigners,” as -the intruding teachers were called, had immediately become the subject of -some of the most ardent hatred and abuse, and some of them had made -replies that made them exceedingly unpopular, but Miss Bates had, by -good-natured diplomacy, avoided all this. The others had been sent packing -as soon as local talent was available to supplant them, but Henrietta had -not only remained, but had been rapidly promoted, and was a real favorite -with all. -</p> -<p> -“She's the kindest and affectionatest woman I ever knew in all my born -days,” Miss Susan often said. “Just look how she does for Mr. Todder. It's -like he was her son. She sews on his buttons and mends his socks, and -never a sign of flirting with him or anything. I do admire Henrietta Bates -highly, and that's a fact.” - </p> -<p> -Every one admired Henrietta. She was so large and so cheerful and, withal, -so “safe.” She was so wholesome and healthy and free from complaints. -</p> -<p> -“It's a wonder to me,” Miss Susan often said, “that no man has grabbed her -long ago. If I was a man I'd marry her in a minute. She's the best there -is, to my notion.” - </p> -<p> -Miss Susan had rejoiced openly when Henrietta's news came from Spirit -Lake. -</p> -<p> -“Well, I'm glad!” Miss Susan said. “If ever a woman deserved a fine man, -Henrietta does.” - </p> -<p> -As a rule Henrietta was cheerful. She would play the ancient piano any -time she was asked, or sing in her very fair voice. She was always ready -to make up a set at croquet; she even tried tennis, but had to give it up. -“I'm too aged,” she laughed, meaning—as every one knew—she was -too heavy. -</p> -<p> -When she did have her short periods of depression it was because she had -not heard from Billy Vane, she said, or had had a letter that was not -satisfactory. -</p> -<p> -“I don't know what I'll do when she gets married and goes away,” Miss -Susan said. “She's almost like a sister, the way she helps out. I guess -folks don't know how many things can come up in a boarding-house to set -everybody cross at each other, but Henrietta just keeps the front part of -the house all nice and friendly all the time. I don't know whatever I 'll -do without her.” - </p> -<p> -It was so in this matter of Lem. -</p> -<p> -“It is quite useless to send him to school for the short time there is -left,” Henrietta told Miss Susan. “He wouldn't fit into any class, and -he'd be unhappy and make work for the teacher and be so far behind his -class that the schooling would n't do him any good. Let him wait until the -fall term. Gay and Lorna and I can tutor him a little this summer.” - </p> -<p> -“If you ain't too busy getting ready to get married and quit us,” said -Susan. “You'll be so busy getting ready—” - </p> -<p> -“I'll have a little time for Lem, I hope,” Henrietta said brightly, -smiling at him. “And Gay and Lorna will be here.” - </p> -<p> -“Not being lucky enough to have our Billy Vanes,” said Lorna. -</p> -<p> -“Now don't be jealous of a poor old maid,” Henrietta teased. -</p> -<p> -“But we are,” said Lorna, and smiled inwardly. “Nobody loves us.” - </p> -<p> -She glanced at Freeman Todder, but it was one of his bad mornings, of -which he had a great many. He was pale and heavy-eyed and his hand shook. -No one at the table knew when he had come in the night before, but it had -been after three in the morning. He had had a long session of poker, with -bad luck, and his pocket held just eighteen cents. He kept his eyes on his -plate. -</p> -<p> -“What do you think, Mr. Todder?” Susan asked. -</p> -<p> -“What?” he asked, looking up suddenly. -</p> -<p> -“Do you think Lem ought to wait until fall to start schooling?” - </p> -<p> -“What do I know about it?” he asked. “It's nothing to me.” - </p> -<p> -There was an unpleasant pause. Rudeness, even when coming from a man as -evidently out of sorts as Freeman was, kills lively spirits. Henrietta -came to the rescue. -</p> -<p> -“Did you ever see a lovelier day?” she asked. “Just see the sun on that -vase of syringas! This is the sort of day I wish I was a Maud Muller. Lem, -it is a crime to be in school a day like this, isn't it?” - </p> -<p> -“Yes'm,” said Lem. “I guess so.” - </p> -<p> -“So we won't make you go,” she said gayly. “Lorna and I are poor slaves. -We have to go whether we like it or not.” - </p> -<p> -She arose and went to the door, humming. -</p> -<p> -She went into the hall and stood a moment at the screen door, looking out, -and then went out upon the porch and walked slowly down toward the gate, -stopping to pick a dandelion. At the top of the terrace steps she stood, -waiting. Freeman Todder, taking his hat and cane, followed her. To any one -seeing them at the top of the steps they would have seemed to have met -there by chance. -</p> -<p> -“Well?” Henrietta asked. There was no lightness, no affection in her -voice; no anger either. -</p> -<p> -“It went against me last night. I lost the whole twenty. The damnedest -luck, Et.” - </p> -<p> -“I don't care the least about your luck,” Henrietta said. “You are an -ungrateful, inconsiderate wretch. I 'll say it plainly. I'm utterly -disgusted.” - </p> -<p> -“Oh, quit it!” said Todder rudely. -</p> -<p> -“I feel like quitting it—like quitting everything—forever,” - she said. “I get so tired. God! how tired I get! And you never show the -least consideration.” - </p> -<p> -She looked toward the house. -</p> -<p> -“We can't stand here,” she said. “Walk along with me. We must settle this -now, Freeman.” - </p> -<p> -“Settle nothing!” he growled, but he walked beside her, going down the -steps and turning down the street. -</p> -<p> -“It is not fair to me, Freeman,” she said. “I owe both the girls so much -already, and Miss Redding for weeks and weeks. It has been hard, letting -them think I am a silly old fool, and planning to make them think it. I -don't know how much longer I might have gone on with it. Now that is -ended.” - </p> -<p> -Freeman said nothing. -</p> -<p> -“I could n't have gone on with it much longer, but now it has come to an -end,” Henrietta continued. “For one reason they simply can't lend me any -more. No matter how amused they may be over thinking that I am a great -silly, buying myself presents and pretending I get them from my Billy -Vane, they can't spare the money. And you make me so furious, doing as you -did last night, getting rid of even the few dollars I could get. You might -at least spend the money sensibly. You might try to help me, when -everything I do is for you.” - </p> -<p> -“A lot you'd do for me if I did n't scare it out of you,” Freeman scoffed, -and turned his hard eyes on her. “And you'll do a lot more for me, too. -You've got to. I'm in bad.” - </p> -<p> -“What do you mean?” she asked, frightened, turning to look into his face. -</p> -<p> -“I'm in bad, I say,” he answered. “I've been tapping Alberson's till and -he knows it. You think you've been keeping me going? What could I do with -the scraps of money you've been giving me? Chicken feed!” - </p> -<p> -Henrietta was very white. -</p> -<p> -“You've been stealing?” she whispered. -</p> -<p> -“Yes, and got caught; that's the worst of it. And I've got to make it -good, for Johnnie is going to put me through. Now you know it; what are -you going to do about it?” - </p> -<p> -“Oh, Freeman!” she moaned. She dared not weep, for Gay, or any one, might -be watching her. Mrs. Bruce, in one of the houses across the street, did -come to her door and Henrietta waved a merry hand. “How much did you -take?” Henrietta asked Freeman. -</p> -<p> -“Three hundred, I guess, but old Johnnie don't know it. He says it is two -hundred. That's what I have to make good. 'Make good or go to the jug,' -was what he said. And he'll do it. I 'm nobody, you see. I 'm none of the -ancient and honorable Riverbank families. Nobody'll stop trading with -Johnnie if I'm jugged. It will be 'whoof!' and I'm gone.” - </p> -<p> -“Oh, Freeman! How could you? And so little I can do. What can I do? Do you -think, if I saw him—” questioned Henrietta. -</p> -<p> -“If you saw him? Yes, with a roll of cash in your fist,” laughed Freeman. -“What would you do? Kiss him? The best thing you can do is hunt up two -hundred ducats.” - </p> -<p> -“That's impossible, of course,” Henrietta said flatly. “How long will he -wait?” - </p> -<p> -“He'll be quick enough, don't fret!” - </p> -<p> -“Freeman, if I think I can do some good by seeing him, may I?” - </p> -<p> -“I don't care a hoot what you do,” Freeman Todder said. “And I don't care -a hoot what happens. That's how I feel.” - </p> -<p> -Henrietta put her hand ever so briefly on his arm. -</p> -<p> -“I know. And I'm sorry. It is all my fault. I'll do the best I can. I must -go back now.” - </p> -<p> -“So long,” Freeman said, and went on down the hill. -</p> -<p> -Henrietta turned and went toward the house, trying to make her step -springy and her face bright. She felt very old and worn. As she neared the -gate Gay came across the street and Henrietta waited for her and slipped -her arm through Gay's and forced a smile. -</p> -<p> -“<i>You</i> look happy,” Gay laughed. -</p> -<p> -“Happy? Why shouldn't I?” asked Henrietta. “I feel like a Pippa ready to -chirp, 'All's right with the world,' this fair morn.” - </p> -<p> -“I honestly believe you're the youngest thing I know,” said Gay, and she -meant it. She was a bit jealous. She had seen Henrietta place her hand on -Freeman Todder's arm and, as such thoughts will come, had come the thought -that Henrietta might be in love with Freeman. -</p> -<p> -What more the two women might have said was interrupted by the rattle of a -cart that drove to the gutter and stopped at the Redding gate. In the -vehicle were Harvey Redding, the newly self-appointed saint, as fat as -ever, and a man of spare and awkward construction whose long neck -suggested that of an ostrich in the act of swallowing an orange. He was in -his shirt sleeves, without a waistcoat, but on one of his suspenders -straps he wore one of the largest nickel-plated stars that ever adorned a -human being. This star bore the legend, “Riverbank Municipal Police; -Canine Division, No. I,” and had been presented to Officer Schulig by a -group of playful citizens with a speech. While properly credentialed as a -deputy member of the Riverbank police force and as full and complete Dog -Warden, Officer Schulig now received no pay and considered it fitting to -do no work except when driven to it by direct orders from the Town -Marshal. As he said himself, he had “soured onto the schob” when the City -Council took away the twenty-five cent fee for capturing and impounding -stray dogs. He had even given up wearing his star in public, except when -it was absolutely necessary, because it had become the custom of the -lighter-minded to shield their eyes when the star approached, as if its -glory was too great. At the same time these ungodly rascals would read the -badge, saying, “Rifferbangk Muntzipipple Poleetz. Canine Divitzion. No -one,” this having been the manner in which Officer Schulig had read it -upon its presentation. What made it more annoying to Officer Schulig was -that when any one read “Canine Divitzion. No one,” some one always -chanted, with surprise, “What, no one at all?” and the answer, -apologetically given, was, “Well, hardly any one.” - </p> -<p> -The custom of teasing Officer Schulig when he was performing any police -duty had become so common, and made him so angry, that he no longer waited -to be teased; he became angry as soon as he was called upon to perform any -official task. And he was angry now. -</p> -<p> -“Got a hurry mit you, und out from my buggy get. By gollies, I ain't got -all day yet for fooling aroundt. I shouldt take a club to you if I ain't -left it to home already,” he ordered; and Saint Harvey hefted his huge -bulk from the seat and clambered out of the cart backward. When he turned -toward the house he, too, was red with anger and with the unusual -exertion. On his fat wrists were a pair of glittering handcuffs. -</p> -<p> -“Dod-baste you!” he exclaimed whole-heartedly to Officer Schulig. “You -ain't got no right to drag me into my sister's house with these here -things on me. Take 'em off!” - </p> -<p> -“Stop now! You don't say to me dot you baste me!” shouted Schulig, white -with rage. “Nobody hass a righdt to baste me. Baste yourself! Und I don't -take hand-cuffers off from any man vot says he bastes me. Und anyhow I -don't. I leaf my keys by my house. So shut up once!” - </p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -CHAPTER VII -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hat on earth is the matter?” Henrietta asked Officer Schulig. “What have -you got those handcuffs on Mr. Redding for?” - </p> -<p> -“Why this dod-basted lunatic went an' arrested me,” sputtered Harvey. “I -whanged him on the head an' you'd 'a' whanged him on the head, too, if -he'd come arrestin' you when you was n't doin' nothin' but sittin' in your -rockin'-chair meditatin'—” - </p> -<p> -“Meditate!” exclaimed the red-faced Officer Schulig. “What it is -'meditate' I don't know. Iss it chumping up und schlogging an officer on -der head mitout notice? Yes? In der yard I come und klop! goes his fist on -my head, und no notice beforehand. Is it to meditate, such a business? -Yes?” - </p> -<p> -“Sittin' there. An' meditatin',” said Harvey. “Like a saint should. Doin' -no harm to nobody. Out in the fresh sunshine with a gentle heart, just -startin' in to be a saint, an' up <i>he</i> comes—” - </p> -<p> -“Starting in to be what?” asked Henrietta. -</p> -<p> -“A saint, dod-baste it,” said Harvey angrily. “Livin' a life of purity an' -gentleness, bein' kind to stray dogs an' one sort of thing an' another. -Mortifyin' my flesh on bread an' water, and here <i>he</i> comes. -Dod-baste it, a man can't set up in the saint business without a -dod-basted dog police comin' an'—Why! dod-baste it, I got to begin -all over again. I got to start new, an' begin all over, an' all because <i>he</i> -come fetchin' his red face an' pokin' it at me—” - </p> -<p> -“I neffer!” cried Schulig indignantly. “Neffer do I poke my face. Fetch it -along mit me; yes! But poke it? Neffer! I tell you who poked my face: you -poked it! Mit your fist. Und you blame <i>me!</i>” - </p> -<p> -He frowned ferociously. -</p> -<p> -“I got a right to fetch my face vere I go, aind't I?” he demanded. -</p> -<p> -“No, you ain't,” said Harvey angrily. “What right you got to poke a face -at a man that's just set out to be a saint, temptin' him, an' angerin' him -all up, an' settin' him to swearin' an' cussin' like a pirate, an' gettin' -him so mad he starts beatin' up a fellow human? What right you got to bust -into a saint's first day, spoilin' the whole dod-basted business, an' -arrestin' him an' pokin' faces at him an'—” - </p> -<p> -“What did he arrest you for, Mr. Redding?” Gay asked. -</p> -<p> -“Receiving stolen goods. Und grooldy to animals. Und assaulting a Chew, -und also schloggin' me by my head afterwards,” said Schulig promptly. -</p> -<p> -“An' me tryin' to be a saint,” complained Harvey. “Me settin' there an' -tryin' to be a saint. It ain't no wonder I got mad at him. Who ever heard -of a saint gettin' arrested for all them things, I'd like to know? It -ain't right. It ain't normal.” - </p> -<p> -“But receiving stolen goods!” exclaimed Gay. “That's serious.” - </p> -<p> -“Und mebby for conspiracies together to have such stealings go ahead,” - said Schulig. “I bet you he gets yet into a blace I don't poke my face -into! Chail. Goundy chail!” - </p> -<p> -“Don't laugh, Gay,” Henrietta urged. “This is serious. What is it you want -here, Mr. Schulig? I suppose you want Miss Redding to furnish bail.” - </p> -<p> -“Bail is none of my business,” said Schulig. -</p> -<p> -“No; better I like it should he rot by der chail. I come for der boy.” - </p> -<p> -“The boy? Not Lem!” Henrietta exclaimed. “What did Lem do?” - </p> -<p> -“Beddy larceny,” said Officer Schulig. “A schunk of lead so big as my head -he stole. From off of Moses Schuder, out from his chunkyard. Und sold it -to his papa here. Yes!” - </p> -<p> -“Oh! just junk!” said Henrietta, greatly relieved. After all boys will be -boys, and she had been a teacher too long to have a violent belief in the -innate depravity of boys who steal junk. She inclined to the belief that -no one could expect old iron, copper bottoms of wash-boilers, and other -cashable metals to be entirely safe unless nailed down and bolted fast, -when boys were around. The thoughts of a small-town boy turn to junk as -the sparks fly upward. “Is that all!” she said. -</p> -<p> -When the group reached the house Susan Redding was at the door, for Lorna -had seen the four approaching and had called her. -</p> -<p> -“Well,” Susan exclaimed bitterly to her brother, “you're making a nice -sort of saint, ain't you? What's all this ruckus about, I want to know? -What you been doing this time?” - </p> -<p> -Lem, peering wide-eyed from behind his aunt, felt his conscience at that -moment as he had never felt it before. It felt as big as a house. He -turned to slip quietly away, but Officer Schulig saw him. -</p> -<p> -“Shtop him! Shtop dot boy!” he cried, and sprang for Lem, but not -loosening his hold on Harvey's arm. The handcuffs clinked on Harvey's -wrists, but Harvey was too heavy to be jerked about casually. His hat fell -to the porch floor. -</p> -<p> -“Dod-baste you!” he exclaimed, and jabbed Schulig with his elbow. -</p> -<p> -Miss Susan put her hand on Lem's arm pro-tectingly. -</p> -<p> -“Now, don't you be afraid, Lemuel,” she said. “Nobody's going to harm you -whilst I'm here, I tell them that! What you want, Rudolf Schulig? You -ought to be ashamed of yourself, scaring the wits out of a poor child, I -won't be a mite surprised if Harvey has got into some shape of devilment, -for I will say to his face I've been expecting it this long time, but this -boy never did a mean thing, I 'll warrant.” - </p> -<p> -“Does he or don'dt he, is none of my business,” said Schulig. “Der chutch -makes dot oudt. Chutch says it, und I go und do it.” - </p> -<p> -“Judge who?” - </p> -<p> -“Chutch Bruce,” said Schulig. “Says to me der chutch, 'Schulig, go und get -me Harfey Redding und such a boy is called Lempuel Redding.' Und I get -them. Else is not my business. I go und get them.” - </p> -<p> -“But you can't. You have to have a warrant,” said Henrietta. “Is n't that -what you have to have—a warrant? Have you got a warrant?” - </p> -<p> -“Sure I got von,” said Schulig, and he produced it. “I don'd know you vant -it. Here iss.” - </p> -<p> -“What's it say?” Susan asked, and Gay, leaning against Henrietta's arm, -read it. -</p> -<p> -“It says Lem and one boy known as Swatty Swartz, together with one boy -known as Bony, did steal, and so forth, a chunk of lead metal, of a value -of three or more dollars, from the junkyard of one Moses Schuder,” said -Gay. -</p> -<p> -“There!” said Miss Susan triumphantly, “I knew it! You've got the boys -mixed up, somehow. Lemuel don't steal. He ain't that kind of boy. You -don't know anything about it, do you, Lem?” - </p> -<p> -Lem looked up into his aunt's face. “Yes, mam,” he said. -</p> -<p> -“Well, maybe you do,” said Miss Susan. “I dare say that Swatty boy and -Bony boy fetched the lead to your pa's junkyard. It's like enough they -did. But you never knew it was stole, did you, Lem?” - </p> -<p> -“Yes, mam, I did know,” Lem said. “I knew it.” - </p> -<p> -“But you did not help them steal it,” said Miss Susan sharply. -</p> -<p> -“Yes, mam,” said Lem again. “Or, anyway, I did n't help them. They were -the ones that helped me.” - </p> -<p> -There was no bravado in the boy's voice. He was frightened. His face was -so white with fear that the freckles stood out as if they floated above -the skin and were not on it. Miss Susan was almost as white, but with -shame, indignation, and anger, and her eyes were hard now. -</p> -<p> -“Well!” she exclaimed. “Well, indeed! A nice sort of boy I have had -boosted onto me. A nice sort of boy you put into pawn, Harvey Redding! A -thief, and he admits it, and brags about it! A nice sort of boy—going -off with a lot of hoodlums and leading them to steal and rob! And I -suppose,” she said, turning on Lemuel, “you went right to your saintly -father and sold that lead to him!” - </p> -<p> -“Yes, mam,” said Lem, swallowing a lump in his throat. “I—I sold it -to him for three dollars.” - </p> -<p> -“And you and the other young rascals divided the money amongst you!” - </p> -<p> -“No, mam. Or—yes, mam. Or—we did n't divide it. I got one half -an' Swatty an' Bony got one half. I got a dollar an' a half an' they only -got a dollar an' a half for both of them. Because I was the one that -thought of gettin' it back from Moses, an' I was the one that sold it to -pop. So I got half.” - </p> -<p> -“And you went and planned that all out beforehand, in cold blood—like—like -criminals?” - </p> -<p> -“No, mam,” said Lem faintly. “The' was n't nothin' planned out about -dividin'; not beforehand. I had to fight 'em for it, afterward. I licked -'em, an' they let me have half.” - </p> -<p> -Henrietta Bates, had it not been for the way in which Miss Susan was -taking all this, might have laughed, although her own situation and her -morning talk with Freeman Todder had left her little inclination to -laughter. Miss Susan, however, was taking the affair with deadly -seriousness, and it was not an occasion when a laugh could lessen the -tension. Miss Susan stood motionless, looking toward the street, her -fingers wrinkling the hem of her apron. When she spoke her voice was hard. -</p> -<p> -“Take him along,” she said, not looking at Lem. “I'm through with him. I -don't want to have aught to do with a thief.” - </p> -<p> -“Oh! Miss Susan!” Lorna exclaimed. “He's only a boy!” - </p> -<p> -“He's a thief; I'm through with him,” Miss Susan repeated, and turned to -enter the house. Schulig stepped forward. -</p> -<p> -Lem looked then, not at Gay, not at Lorna, not at his father, not even at -his aunt or at Schulig, but at Henrietta Bates, and in his eyes was an -appeal. -</p> -<p> -“I don't want to go to jail,” he said pitifully. “Don't be afraid; you'll -not be there long, Lem,” Henrietta said, and as her heart bled for him she -stooped to wrap her arms around him. -</p> -<p> -The boy's eyes fastened on her face eagerly as if they could not leave it. -He swayed slightly and closed his eyes. -</p> -<p> -“Look out! He's falling!” Lorna cried, and Henrietta caught him in her -arms as he fell, and lowered him to the porch floor. -</p> -<p> -“He's fainted!” Gay exclaimed, and bent to help Henrietta. -</p> -<p> -The boy's face was white as death, and his eyes were closed, but his head -did not droop and he seemed to breathe. Gay, taking his hand to chafe it, -looked up in alarm. -</p> -<p> -“Why—why—he's all stiff!” she exclaimed. “He's dead!” - </p> -<p> -Lorna, too, was on her knees at Lem's feet now, and Miss Susan, her face -now white with fright, was grasping the boy's other hand and crying, “Lem! -Lem!” - </p> -<p> -Henrietta, calm, as one might have known she would be, bent forward and -raised one of Lem's eyelids. It remained open and the uncovered eye stared -glassily. She gently closed the eyelid and arose. -</p> -<p> -“He is not dead and he has not fainted,” she said. “I have seen such cases -before. It is a cataleptic fit, I think. Has he ever had them before?” she -asked Harvey. -</p> -<p> -“He ain't, but his ma used to,” said Harvey. -</p> -<p> -“You see!” Henrietta said. “I think you had better put him to bed, Miss -Susan, and you had better send for a doctor. His heart is strong and I am -sure there is no danger. He may be thus for an hour or a week.” - </p> -<p> -She turned to Gay and Lorna. -</p> -<p> -“We must go,” she said. “We will be late for school as it is. Miss Susan -can carry him to his room.” - </p> -<p> -“I can and will,” said Miss Susan grimly. -</p> -<p> -“And we will stop and tell Dr. Grace to come at once,” said Henrietta. -</p> -<p> -Miss Susan raised the boy in her strong arms. Gay touched his face with -her soft fingers. -</p> -<p> -“Poor kid!” she said. “Poor little Lem!” - </p> -<p> -From Saint Harvey of Riverbank came a sound like a mighty sob. He raised -his linked hands high above his head and there was a jangle of steel -chain. When he had raised his hands to their utmost reach, Saint Harvey -brought his united fists down upon the top of Officer Schulig's -unprotected head with a blow that made the porch floor palpitate and the -dog policeman's knees to bend. -</p> -<p> -“Dod-double-baste you!” cried Saint Harvey of Riverbank. “You get away -from me, an' get away quick!” - </p> -<p> -Officer Schulig was willing. He tried to. He made a leap for the porch -steps, but Saint Harvey's linked hands had encircled the officer's neck -and the two men tottered to the edge of the steps. -</p> -<p> -“Chail!” yelled Schulig, pushing at Harvey's chest. “More chail for this, -I bet you!” - </p> -<p> -Then they reached the edge of the porch and fell and rolled down the steps -together, locked in a close but most unaffectionate embrace. -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -CHAPTER VIII -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hat Henrietta said to Dr. Grace, who was young and had a twinkle in his -eye, does not matter, but when she returned to Miss Susan's for dinner, at -noon, Lem was still seemingly unconscious and as rigid as before. Miss -Susan said the doctor had agreed with Henrietta's diagnosis in general, -and had added that the shock of the fear of jail had probably reacted on -the supersensitiveness of the boy. The doctor had said, Miss Susan told -Henrietta, that the boy's pulse and temperature were normal and that there -was nothing to fear. There might, he had said, be recurrences of this -cataleptic state from time to time. The only treatment, he said, was to -leave the boy alone while in these trance states and to see that as soon -as he came out of them he was fed plenteously. -</p> -<p> -Henrietta smiled secretly as she turned away from Miss Susan, so well had -Dr. Grace played the game. -</p> -<p> -Lorna was later arriving for dinner. She had, with Gay, purposely avoided -Henrietta in order to call on Dr. Grace, for she had a question to ask -him. -</p> -<p> -“Doctor,” she said, when she and Gay stood in his office and had spoken of -Lem, “we wanted to ask you something. About Lem. He's in no danger?” - </p> -<p> -“Not a bit.” - </p> -<p> -“And—you'll know we would not ask this without a good reason—he -is not hypnotized. Miss Bates did not, you think, hypnotize him?” The -doctor threw back his head and laughed. “Hypnotized?” he cried. “You don't -have to hypnotize that boy. No; Miss Bates did not hypnotize him. He was -not hypnotized, unless it was by the devil himself. That's all the -hypnotizing any boy is entitled to. Do you want to know the bitter truth? -He's playing 'possum.” - </p> -<p> -“Lem is—” - </p> -<p> -“To keep out of jail,” the young doctor laughed; and then Gay and Lorna -laughed too. -</p> -<p> -After dinner Henrietta went up to see Lem, Lorna going with her. They -stood beside the bed and looked at him. His color was quite normal now and -his freckles had gone back where they belonged. -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a> -</p> -<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> -<img alt="102 (54K)" src="images/102.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> -</div> -<p> -“Can he hear us?” Lorna asked. -</p> -<p> -Henrietta glanced at her quickly, as if suspecting something, but Lorna's -face was innocent enough. -</p> -<p> -“Not directly, I think,” Henrietta said, “but it is better not to say -anything we don't want him to remember. It might be heard by his -subconscious mind and held there. Is that what you mean?” - </p> -<p> -“I suppose so,” said Lorna. “I was just thinking that he must be so -tender-hearted! He did not seem to feel the blow until Miss Susan said she -would have no more to do with him. It was then he fainted.” - </p> -<p> -Henrietta looked at Lem. Not an eyelash moved, but she knew he heard all -they were saying. -</p> -<p> -“Yes, you are right,” she said. “He is a dear boy. And Miss Sue loves him; -I know she loves him very dearly. Of course it was a great shock to her, -having a policeman come to the house, and she said things she did not -mean. You saw how worried she was, just now. She does love him.” - </p> -<p> -The words were meant for Lem's ears. So were Lorna's words when she -answered. -</p> -<p> -“And you don't think he will be sent to jail, do you?” she asked. -</p> -<p> -“Indeed not!” said Henrietta. “Miss Sue will never allow that. She loves -Lem too well. Look! He looks as if he was about to come out of his trance, -Lorna! Can't you see a better color in his face? Listen, Lorna; run down -and get some flowers. It will be brighter here if he sees flowers when he -wakens.” - </p> -<p> -Henrietta wanted to get rid of Lorna. She knew how the healthy boy's -appetite must be raging as the pleasant odors of food came up from the -floor below. When Lorna was gone, Henrietta closed the door and shot the -bolt. She went back to the bed and bent over Lem. “Lem!” she called. “Lem, -wake up!” - </p> -<p> -The boy did not stir. He lay as rigid as before. She took one of his warm, -tanned hands and rubbed it. -</p> -<p> -“Lem!” she called again. “Wake up, Lem!” The boy opened his eyes. For a -moment he stared at the ceiling and then sat upright with the brisk -liveliness of a healthy boy. -</p> -<p> -“Hello!” he said. “I been asleep, I guess.” - </p> -<p> -“Yes, you had a good nap,” Henrietta said. -</p> -<p> -“Do you remember what happened just before you went to sleep?” - </p> -<p> -He pretended to be puzzled for a moment. Then memory seemed to return -gradually. “That old Schulig came for me,” he said. “Yes, but he's not -going to bother you. We 're not going to let him. You did n't mean -anything wicked and you shan't be pestered. Lorna was here a minute ago. -She has gone down to get you some flowers. She likes you. So does Gay.” - </p> -<p> -“They're bully, ain't they?” said Lem. -</p> -<p> -“I think your Aunt Sue likes you too, Lem,” Henrietta said, but the boy's -eyes grew sulky at once. -</p> -<p> -“No, she don't,” he declared. “She hates me.” - </p> -<p> -“I think she likes you. Perhaps she does not know it herself yet, Lem, but -I think she does like you, in her heart.” - </p> -<p> -“No, she hates me. An' I hate her. I'd rather be in jail than in her -house. She's a—” Henrietta leaned a little forward. -</p> -<p> -“No, she likes you. And you like her. I know you do, Lem. You are very -fond of her. She has a good heart and would love to be kind to you. And -she will be if she thinks you like her.” - </p> -<p> -Lorna came back with an armful of flowers and a vase to hold them. She -smiled at Lem. -</p> -<p> -“That is lovely!” Henrietta said. “Put them where Lem can see them. Come -now, we must go down. We will bring you some dinner, Lem.” Miss Susan, -when she learned the boy was himself again, assumed once more her attitude -of dislike. -</p> -<p> -“Well, how is he?” she asked, as if even asking that was more than she -wanted to do. -</p> -<p> -“Quite himself again, I think,” said Henrietta. “Lorna took up some -flowers.” - </p> -<p> -“What for?” - </p> -<p> -“I've heard it said that everything should be as bright and cheerful and -pleasant as possible when any one comes out of one of these fits,” said -Henrietta. “A child, especially. It is as if one was dead, you know, and -coming back into the world again. It ought to be, just at first at least, -a nice world. It ought to seem to be a world worth coming back into. If -not—” - </p> -<p> -“What?” asked Susan. -</p> -<p> -Henrietta shrugged her shoulders “You could n't blame them much for going -right back into dead-land again, could you? And staying there? I suppose -they do, sometimes.” - </p> -<p> -“Humph!” exclaimed Susan, but she mentally resolved that, whatever she -felt about Lem, no one should ever say she had been the cause of his -death. “I don't say I would n't be glad to have him around,” she said -grudgingly. “Time and again I've told his father I would admire to have -Lem here. But a liar and a thief and a young rowdy I can't abide and I -won't have.” - </p> -<p> -“Lem is not a liar,” said Henrietta quietly. “He tells the truth. Wasn't -that the trouble, Susan? You questioned him and he told the truth and it -made you angry. Now I never make that mistake,” she continued gayly. “I 'm -quite a reprobate. I only tell the truth when it pleases everybody, and if -something else pleases better I tell something else.” - </p> -<p> -Lorna gasped mentally at this surprising frankness. Later in the day she -tried to explain to Gay the strange feeling that took possession of her at -that moment. Of all places in the world the town of Riverbank was the -least romantic, and of all houses in Riverbank Miss Susan's house was—or -had been—the least likely to harbor mystery. It was a large, broad, -simple house, with large windows and large, sunny rooms. There was nothing -dank or dark or dismal about it. It was as open and unromantic as a new -tent in the middle of a sunny field, with the flaps tied back, and -suddenly this matter-of-fact, wide-open, every-day boarding-house began to -affect Lorna with a sense of mystery and hidden secrets and things -shielded from view. She told Gay it gave her a creepy feeling, like -finding one's self suddenly and unexpectedly on the edge of a deep, dark -pit. -</p> -<p> -Mystery is usually linked with strange creatures who come out of dark -rooms, garbed in strange gowns, to steal out at night, and who say -mysterious things. Lorna had not thought of mystery in connection with a -person so visible as Henrietta, who wore shirt-waists that cost two -dollars at Graydon's and who darned her stockings on the front porch in -full daylight. There was so much Henrietta, and all of it so healthy and -seemingly wholesome, that mystery seemed the very thing that would avoid -her, as moss avoids a sun-drenched wall. -</p> -<p> -There was nothing apparently mysterious about Henrietta when, after school -that afternoon, she walked to Main Street in company with two other -teachers, talking of the nearing end of the school year. She left them at -the corner and went to Johnnie Alberson's. -</p> -<p> -A bevy of high-school girls, their books under their arms or deposited at -the feet of their high stools, were glorying in ice-cream sodas at the -fountain just inside the door. -</p> -<p> -“Hello, Freeman,” Henrietta greeted the white-jacketed youth. “Is Mr. -Alberson in?” - </p> -<p> -“Ho! Johnnie!” Freeman called, and Alberson came from behind the -prescription case. “Miss Bates wants to see you,” Freeman said. -</p> -<p> -Alberson came forward, turning down his cuffs. He was behind the counter, -thinking only that she wished to be waited on. Freeman turned his back, -loading a glass with the ingredients of the celebrated “Papsy Shake” that -was the fountain's leading concoction that season. -</p> -<p> -“'T can I do for you, Miss Bates?” Alberson asked. -</p> -<p> -Johnnie Alberson was a bachelor, plump, cheerful, and as worldly-wise as -any man in Riverbank. Henrietta knew about him. It was in the back of -Johnnie's store that the poker games were played. It was said, too, that -it was by no means necessary for young fellows to be seen in a common -saloon while Johnnie ran a drug store, and more than one “girl scandal” - was said to have had its growth through meetings at Johnnie's. -</p> -<p> -“I want to see you about Freeman,” Henrietta said in a low tone. “He's -taken some of your money, has n't he?” - </p> -<p> -Alberson's professional smile departed. -</p> -<p> -“I would n't say any one had taken any of my money,” he answered. “What do -you think you know about it?” - </p> -<p> -“He told me.” - </p> -<p> -Alberson glanced at Freeman Todder as if he meant to call him, but changed -his mind. -</p> -<p> -“Come in the back room,” he said, and led the way. -</p> -<p> -There were two ways into Alberson's back room, one at either end of the -prescription case. One was the doorway by which Johnnie bustled back and -forth when he came out to wait on a customer or hurried back to compound a -prescription. The other was less frank. It was at the other end of the -prescription case. Here was placed the long showcase containing toilet -articles—the face powders, combs, brushes, perfumes—but -standing on the floor, close to the case, was a large easel bearing a -six-foot advertisement in gay colors. To see the articles beyond this it -was necessary to go behind it. The most innocent of customers might do -that, wishing to see the articles in the case, or a silly or foolhardy -girl might seem to be looking in the case and disappear behind the easel, -and thence slip through the opening into the region behind Johnnie's -prescription case and into the famous back room. That was one reason you -might think you saw some young woman enter Alberson's drug store and yet -not find her there if you entered. It was said that Johnnie's back room -was about the only place in Riverbank where a girl could smoke a cigarette -in safety, or—rumor said—find a glass of sherry wine. Alberson -led Henrietta to the back room by the open path. -</p> -<p> -“You said Freeman told you something,” he said when they were there. “What -do you think he told you?” - </p> -<p> -They were standing. Henrietta placed her purse on the stained table. -</p> -<p> -“May I sit down?” she asked. “I wish you would sit down too. I want to -tell you something I have never breathed before.” - </p> -<p> -Alberson took a seat opposite her and she looked him steadily in the face. -</p> -<p> -“Freeman told me he had stolen two hundred dollars from you and that he -could not pay it, and that if he did not you would make trouble for him. -Is that so?” - </p> -<p> -“It might be.” - </p> -<p> -“No, I must know! He told me, but I cannot always trust him. Did he take -it?” - </p> -<p> -“Just what would happen if I said he did?” Alberson asked. -</p> -<p> -“I know him rather well,” Henrietta said. “We both board at Miss -Redding's. I have helped him before.” - </p> -<p> -“You mean you would pay what he stole, if he stole it?” Johnnie asked. -</p> -<p> -“Yes. That is what I mean.” - </p> -<p> -“He stole it,” said Alberson. “He took it out of the till. Two hundred and -eight dollars. He confessed when I put it up to him hard. And I'll get it -back or he'll go to Anamosa, that's absolute.” - </p> -<p> -“Then I 'll repay you,” Henrietta said quietly. “I thought perhaps he was -lying to me. I'll pay you a little this month and the rest regularly when -school begins again in the fall.” - </p> -<p> -The pleasant look that had come back to Johnnie's face at the mention of -repayment fled again. In money matters he was notoriously close; his -carefulness in the matter of pennies was a joke that he accepted -good-naturedly, since it permitted him the more easily to protect himself. -No one could borrow money from Johnnie Albersori, and no one asked him to -lend, although “Lend me a couple of cart-wheels” was the phrase most often -spoken by the young fellows who made the Alberson store a loafing place. -</p> -<p> -“That won't do,” he said. “How do I know? Maybe you'll pay and maybe -you'll get tired of paying. And before fall he may be in China. No, I'm -going to have the money or put him through.” - </p> -<p> -“I thought perhaps you would say that,” said Henrietta. “You would -naturally. You think I am merely one of Freeman's friends. I am his -mother, Mr. Alberson. I'm Freeman's mother.” And thus another lie was -uttered by Henrietta Bates. -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -CHAPTER IX -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">J</span>ohnnie Alberson looked at Henrietta without the least questioning of her -statement that she was Freeman Todder's mother. -</p> -<p> -“That's different, Mrs—” he hesitated; “Mrs. Todder,” he said -finally. “Or is it Mrs. Bates?” - </p> -<p> -“No, not Todder,” said Henrietta. “Nor Bates either. I am Mrs. William -Vane. My husband is in the West. He is a worthless, drunken wreck. You can -understand why I took the name of Bates, with a son like Freeman, always -an expense, and a husband like Mr. Vane, and the position of teacher here -open only to spinsters. It was necessity, not choice.” - </p> -<p> -There was no weak appeal in Henrietta's voice, nor in her manner, nor were -there tears or tremulousness. She looked directly into Alberson's eyes and -spoke with what seemed to be absolute frankness. -</p> -<p> -“That's different,” Alberson repeated. “I can see why you want to save -Freeman, that being so. And I'm sorry for you; I 'll say that, Mrs. Vane. -A son like yours—well, he's not much good. Now, about this payment -you want to make?” Henrietta told him what she would like to do. She -would, of course, bring him the money as often as she could. -</p> -<p> -“I may be able to get a little out of Freeman's father,” she prevaricated. -“When he has work and is not spending all for drink, he sends me a little -now and then. I 'll write to him. He may try to do something now—when -my need is so great.” - </p> -<p> -When she arose she gave Alberson her hand, and held his a moment, warmly -pressing it, in thanks. -</p> -<p> -“I am so grateful,” she said. “It is such a load off my mind. You cannot -know how I have worried. I know you'll say nothing about what I have told -you.” - </p> -<p> -“I'm a wise old owl,” said Johnnie, and only then dropped her hand. “I -know secrets and still more secrets.” - </p> -<p> -When Henrietta went out to the front of the store Alberson took a small, -round mirror from his pocket and viewed his face in it. He was always a -little vain. -</p> -<p> -“One damn fine woman,” he said, aloud, “and she must have married mighty -young. Fine, that's what she is!” - </p> -<p> -Henrietta stopped to speak to Freeman. -</p> -<p> -“I fixed it,” she said hastily. “He will wait and let me pay him as I can. -I told him you were my son, Freeman. Please don't say much if he quizzes -you.” - </p> -<p> -“I won't,” Freeman said, “but you might just let me know who my father was -and where the dear old chap died. A son ought to know that.” - </p> -<p> -“Don't be funny; I can't bear it,” Henrietta begged. “I told him your -father was Billy Vane. He is a drunken brute and he is not dead. He is in -Colorado.” - </p> -<p> -Freeman gave her the first admiring glance he had bestowed on her for many -days. -</p> -<p> -“Et, you'll do,” he said. “I'm almost proud to be a son of such a mother. -You sure are a fixer.” - </p> -<p> -“Please, don't be funny,” she begged again. “It is not ended yet. I still -have the money to pay. I don't suppose I can expect you to help? Even a -little, Freeman?” - </p> -<p> -“Not a bit, mother dear,” he said and turned to wait on two girls who had -just entered. -</p> -<p> -At the boarding-house Henrietta learned that Lem was still sleeping and -that Judge Bruce had postponed the trial of Saint Harvey of Riverbank and -had sent him to the lock-up to await Lem's recovery. Henrietta ran up to -see how Lem was faring, stopped in her own room to freshen herself, and -then hurried down. Lorna had not reached the house yet, but Gay had come -over. Henrietta embraced her gayly. -</p> -<p> -“You dear!” she said. “I just want you. I'm going over to see Judge Bruce -about Lem and I want you to go with me. It will be like taking him a rose -moist with dew. I can't imagine how you ever manage to come from a day of -teaching so bright and beaming.” - </p> -<p> -Gay did not tell her that she had stopped at Alberson's for a soda and -that Freeman had been, for him, unusually nice and politely lover-like. -</p> -<p> -“And how is Miss Susan?” Gay asked. “About Lem, I mean. How does she feel -toward him?” - </p> -<p> -“Still sour,” Henrietta said. “That's one trouble with such <i>good</i> -good women. They are hard on mortals. Come.” - </p> -<p> -They went across the street and down past Gay's home to the Bruce house. -The old justice of the peace had not reached home yet, but he was -expected, his wife said, and Carter Bruce came out on the porch. -</p> -<p> -“'Lo, Gay; 'lo, Miss Henrietta,” he greeted them. “How's things?” - </p> -<p> -“Fine,” Henrietta answered for them both. “And, oh, Bruce! You're a -lawyer, you can tell us what to do. About Lem, Miss Redding's nephew—you -know about him?” - </p> -<p> -“Mostly. I was in dad's court when he held old Harve.” - </p> -<p> -“Well, then—” said Henrietta and hesitated momentarily. “Listen, -Bruce, I know something about it. May I tell you? I can tell a lawyer, in -confidence, can't I?” - </p> -<p> -“You can tell this lawyer in confidence,” said Bruce. “I 'll take Lem's -case if you want me to—free of charge—if that is it.” - </p> -<p> -“Then—you don't mind if I whisper to him, Gay?” - </p> -<p> -“Don't mind me,” said Gay, laughing. Henrietta drew Carter Bruce to the -far end of the porch. -</p> -<p> -“I don't know anything about Lem,” she said hurriedly. “Nothing special. I -just wanted to speak to you about Gay. Freeman Todder is making love to -her; you know that. And I know it is not right. He is not to be trusted, -Carter. You like Gay, don't you? You'll do something to save her, won't -you?” - </p> -<p> -“What can I do?” he asked. “She likes him best. She don't care a hang for -me.” - </p> -<p> -“She does! Make love to her, Carter,” urged Henrietta. “Make her love you; -be—be strenuous about it; make strong love to her. She's the age -when she craves it, and I know she will listen to you. You must; I know -Freeman so well! I know he is bad for her, utterly bad.” Carter was red -with embarrassment. -</p> -<p> -“I 'm asking you because I think she's getting to like him,” Henrietta -added. -</p> -<p> -“Then I'm out of it—absolutely,” Carter said. “I won't butt in. No, -thanks. I know when I'm not wanted.” - </p> -<p> -Henrietta put her hand on the young man's shoulder and for a moment he -thought she meant to shake him, as a naughty child is shaken, but she -relaxed her grip somewhat. -</p> -<p> -“No,” she said, “you do not know when you are not wanted. You only know -that you feel resentful. And why? Because the fruit on the bough did not -fall into the mouth you had opened to receive it. Because, when another's -hand stretches out to pluck it, the fruit did not leap eagerly between -your teeth. You are angry. That's pure conceitedness. And all I ask you to -do is to put out your hand. Is n't your hand as brave as Freeman's hand?” - </p> -<p> -She waited a moment to hear what he might say. What he might say made a -vast difference to Henrietta. On all sides of her, catastrophes were -towering, ready to crush her. You must remember she was a woman of forty -now and her life had been hard—cruelly hard—because of her own -acts and doings, and that here in Riverbank she had found friends and -hoped to find long, peaceful, happy years. Instead she was in the midst of -a tumult of troubles and dangers, with lies that threatened to return and -destroy her and with Freeman's reckless wickedness an even more imminent -menace. But still she meant to fight, and Freeman's attempt to win Gay, -which if successful meant ruin for all, was a thing she must battle -against first of all. Carter Bruce was her only weapon. -</p> -<p> -“Don't look at me like that,” was what he said finally. -</p> -<p> -Henrietta drew a deep breath. -</p> -<p> -“Once more; just let me speak once more, Carter,” she pleaded. “You don't -know Gay as well as I do. I know her so well that I know why she is -yielding—in danger of yielding to Freeman—when you are in -every way to be preferred. He makes love to her. He hurries her and drives -her from defense to defense. She loves Love's attacks, as all women do, -but she more than most. You must not expect to win by a siege when she is -being won by another's bold charge. You can win if you charge, too, -Carter.” - </p> -<p> -“She likes him best. I'm out of it,” he said. -</p> -<p> -Henrietta let her hand drop from his shoulder. She looked around. Gay was -still at the far end of the porch, keeping studiously aloof. When -Henrietta looked at Carter Bruce again, the light of frank truthfulness -that always shone in her eyes when she was lying was in her eyes. -</p> -<p> -“I hoped I would not have to tell you,” she said, “but now I must. Even if -you do not love Gay you must help her. You must protect her from Freeman. -Carter, will you keep what I say sacredly confidential?” - </p> -<p> -“Of course.” - </p> -<p> -“Freeman has a wife. He is married and his wife is living.” - </p> -<p> -“The devil you say!” Bruce exclaimed. “How do you know that?” - </p> -<p> -Gay, from her end of the porch, spoke. -</p> -<p> -“I can hear!” she warned. “I heard what Carter said.” - </p> -<p> -Henrietta lowered her voice. -</p> -<p> -“I know his wife. She is an old friend of mine,” she said. “Her name is -Mary Vane. That is her name now, since she married Freeman.” Bruce was -sufficiently interested now. -</p> -<p> -“Then his name is not Todder?” he asked. -</p> -<p> -“No,” said Henrietta. “It is Vane—William Vane. There are reasons -why he cannot use it.” - </p> -<p> -“That's rotten,” Carter Bruce declared. “I knew there was something wrong -about him, hanging around Riverbank when he don't earn enough at -Alberson's to pay his laundry. Where is this wife of his? Why does he stay -here? He must know you know about him.” - </p> -<p> -“He does, Carter,” Henrietta said. “He is getting money out of me. That's -how he lives. His wife is in Colorado.” - </p> -<p> -“Money? From you?” said Carter with momentary suspicion. “What hold has he -on you?” Henrietta was looking straight into his eyes. “His wife is my -daughter,” she prevaricated glibly. “Tubercular. And—don't you see?—with -my husband there in Colorado, too, and my poor wage from the school all we -have to live upon, that if I say anything we must all starve. They would -send me away, Carter. 'No married women need apply.'” - </p> -<p> -“Ah!” said Carter sympathetically. -</p> -<p> -“So you will do what you can for Gay—for my sake, even if not for -your own?'” - </p> -<p> -“Yes.” - </p> -<p> -They walked to Gay's end of the porch. -</p> -<p> -“He's going to help us, Gay,” Henrietta cried. “He will do all he can for -Lem.” - </p> -<p> -“Carter! You're so good!” Gay cried and clasped his hand for a moment in -thanks.' -</p> -<p> -“That's all right,” he said. “I 'll do all I can. It is not much of a case—not -a very serious case—but if I were you and Henrietta I would try my -smiles on father first. He likes you both. You have a pull with dad.” - </p> -<p> -They did not have long to wait, for old Judge Bruce came slowly up the -shaded street, his coat over his arm. Henrietta was upon him before he had -fairly entered his yard, her arm through his, coaxing him to be a dear, -sweet man and be easy with Lem. -</p> -<p> -“Well, I had a mind that way myself,” said the justice teasingly, “until -this here female lobby come a huggin' and kissin' me and tryin' to corrupt -the bench. Now I guess I 'll have to give the young reprobates a hundred -years in jail, all three of 'em, and old Harvey about two hundred on bread -and water at hard labor. I guess so.” - </p> -<p> -“Now, Father Bruce!” exclaimed Gay. “You could n't be so mean?” - </p> -<p> -The old man looked up at her slyly and pulled at his white beard. -</p> -<p> -“I bet you been doin' some more crooked business, engagin' the judiciary's -son to corrupt the judge in hopes it will sway justice from the straight -path, ain't you?” he cackled. “Dead wrong, I call it. Improper to beat the -band. Reg'lar confession of guilt.” - </p> -<p> -He dropped into a porch chair and wiped his face. -</p> -<p> -“Never knew it so hot this time of the year. Big storm brewing, I -shouldn't wonder,” he said seriously. “About your Lem, now. There ain't -goin' to be no trial. Nor for that big, fat fool father of his, neither. -Charges has been withdrawn and case wiped from the docket. They've got -strong friends.” - </p> -<p> -“That's not just regular, is it, father?” Carter asked, laughing. -</p> -<p> -“What in tunket do I care if it is regular or not?” said Bruce. “I run my -justice court to suit Judge Bruce. Told 'em I would when they come -pesterin' me to take another term. I run on the platform, 'Old Judge Bruce -will lay down the law the way he dumb pleases,' and that's how I was -elected.” - </p> -<p> -He filled his pipe and lighted it. -</p> -<p> -“About your Lem boy,” he said, “there ain't goin' to be no trouble. To my -notion we ain't got a better citizen in town than Sam Cantor, if he is a -Jew. He sells good clothes and if they ain't satisfactory he hands you -your money back, and no fussin'. Now, this here old pair of pants I got on—well, -no matter. He comes up to my justice shop this momin' and he handed me one -of the best seegars I ever stuck in my face. 'Judge,' he says, 'how are -them pants wearin'?' 'All right, Sam,' I says. 'Don't look so to me,' he -says; 'looks to me like you ain't gettin' good wear out of 'em. You better -come around tomorrow and let me fit you to a new pair, or I won't lay easy -in my grave.' 'Let me see!' I says, 'a new pair of pants is worth about -six dollars, Sam. Who's hopin' to get let off from about a twenty-dollar -fine?' That's how I talk to Sam Cantor!” - </p> -<p> -He cackled again gleefully. -</p> -<p> -“But I thought it was Moses Shuder brought the charges against Harve -Redding and the boys,” said Carter Bruce. “Is n't Shuder a protégé of -Cantor's?” - </p> -<p> -“That's it,” said Bruce. “That's the nub of it, right there. 'Judge,' Sam -says, 'I'll lay my cards right on the table. You know my friend Shuder and -the rest of the long beards ain't any too popular around here yet, and you -know it was me that started the move to raise money to fetch them from -Russia or Poland or wherever it was they was. If old Dod-Baste and them -three boys gets jailed or anything, them long beards is going to be more -unpopular than ever. I've got to look out for Our People,' he says. 'I -can't have 'em hated. I've had a talk with Mose Shuder and he's ready to -lay down on his back and stick his legs in the air and yell, “Excuse me,” - if you'll just wipe the slate clean.' So I give it a wipe, and that's -ended. And to-morrow momin' I git a new pair of pants.” - </p> -<p> -“What would you have done to them if Mr. Cantor had not interceded, Judge -Bruce?” asked Gay. -</p> -<p> -The old man cackled until he began to cough. -</p> -<p> -“That's the joke of it, young woman,” he said gleefully. “I was goin' to -turn 'em all loose anyhow. Maybe I might have fined Mose Shuder two -dollars for disturbin' a justice of the peace; it makes me so dumb mad to -have all these fool fusses fetched up before me. Why, land's goodness! If -I had been sentenced six months every time I stole junk when I was a boy -I'd be in jail yet!” - </p> -<p> -“But Mr. Redding received the stolen junk, did n't he?” Gay asked -teasingly. -</p> -<p> -“'T wa'n't my junk, was it?” asked Judge Bruce. “And he hit Moses Shuder,” - said Henrietta. -</p> -<p> -“Well, a man has got to hit somebody once in a while, ain't he?” asked the -justice. -</p> -<p> -“You're a dear, anyway,” said Henrietta, “and I'm going right over and -tell Lem. You need n't hurry, Gay. Stay and keep the judge corrupted.” - </p> -<p> -Henrietta hastened to the kitchen, where Miss Susan was sure to be found -at this time of day. -</p> -<p> -“Lem is not guilty,” she cried. “He's not even to be tried. Nor your -brother either.” - </p> -<p> -But Miss Susan did not show the delight Henrietta had hoped to see. She -wiped her hands on the roller towel and turned to Henrietta a somber face. -</p> -<p> -“I want to talk to you, Miss Bates,” she said. “I've been waitin' all day -to. I don't, mind you, think no evil, but I guess you'll have to find a -boardin'-place elsewhere. A boarding-house-keeper that tries to run a nice -home, like I do, has to be careful, even if it does mean she has to be -harsh sometimes.” - </p> -<p> -“But what have I done?” asked Henrietta, aghast. -</p> -<p> -“Nothing you'd blame yourself for, I dare say,” said Miss Susan, “nor do I -think evil, but there's things that can't be allowed to happen in a -boarding-house if talk ain't to be started. Last night when I had to come -downstairs late to tend to my set bread, Mr. Todder was in your room. I -heard you two talkin'. Such things can't happen in my house. You'll have -to go, and he'll have to go.” - </p> -<p> -Henrietta looked at Susan's mouth, which was firm with resolution. For a -moment her heart sank, but she drew a deep breath. -</p> -<p> -“I knew it! I knew this was sure to happen some day,” she said. “I ought -to have told you long ago, Miss Susan, but I did not dare. I was afraid. -But now I must tell you—Freeman Todder is my husband.” - </p> -<p> -“For mercy's sake!” cried Miss Susan, surprised out of her attitude of -unfriendliness. “Then what was all this howdy-do about your being engaged -to that William Vane man?” Henrietta put her arm coaxingly around Miss -Susan's waist. -</p> -<p> -“I'm a bad girl,” she said. “You'll say I am, and I am. I've been -deceitful; can't you see why, Miss Sue? Could I have come to Riverbank as -a school teacher if it had been known Freeman was my husband?” - </p> -<p> -“Humph!” said Miss Redding dryly. “Seems to me you've been mighty free -with your deceit while you was about it. And seems to me your William Vane -sends you plenty of letters.” - </p> -<p> -“I made them up,” said Henrietta contritely. “You got some,” said Susan. -“I took them from the postman myself. What right had he to be writing to -you if you was married?” - </p> -<p> -“What right?” asked Henrietta. She did not mean to lie to Miss Susan any -more than was necessary, but the further lie came out unbidden. “What -right? Every right because—you see—William Vane is my father!” - </p> -<p> -Miss Susan looked into Henrietta's frank eyes and was satisfied. -</p> -<p> -“Well,” she said grudgingly, “I'm glad you told me the truth finally. -Lyin' never gets anybody anywhere.” - </p> -<p> -In her heart of hearts Henrietta hoped Miss Susan was right, but she was -beginning to doubt it. Lying seemed to be getting her into a most -difficult web of contradictions. -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -CHAPTER X -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hen Henrietta Bates told Miss Susan that Freeman Todder was her husband, -she told the truth, with the sole exception that her name was not -Henrietta Bates nor his Freeman Todder, but all her other stories -regarding Freeman and the mythical Billy Vane were lies. Henrietta was not -a wicked woman; she was the kindest-hearted woman that ever lived; always -ready and eager to do a kindness and full of pity for those who, like Lem, -seemed to be in trouble. -</p> -<p> -The trouble with Henrietta, to use that name as the most convenient, was -that she was romantic. She was one of those women—and there are men -like her—who live a few inches above the tops of their own heads so -that their words have to jump above solid facts in order to give -satisfaction to their imaginations. -</p> -<p> -In Riverbank there is a phrase, used when small boys like Lem take a huge -helping of food and fail to consume it, to the effect that their eyes are -bigger than their stomachs. Henrietta's desire for romance was bigger than -her facts. She was a romantic liar, filling in the gap between what was -true and what she wished was true with details that were not true. In -other words, Henrietta was a born romancer. -</p> -<p> -There are many such, and it is remarkable how many escape discovery and -humiliation. It is always a little regrettable when one of the pleasanter -of the kind <i>is</i> discovered and humiliated. There are women—and -men—who live their entire lives in a golden haze of untruths, who do -no one any great harm and who get immense momentary pleasure (and whole -ecstasies of pleasant pain of conscience) out of their romantic -prevarications. -</p> -<p> -Most often it is no one's particular business to grasp one of these lies -and by unpleasant cross-questioning and investigating prove the romancer a -liar. The one who does such cross-questioning is usually a most -disagreeable person—the sort of nosey, rudely inquisitive person -none of us likes. -</p> -<p> -I have given a great deal of thought to lies, having been a well-known -liar myself before I reformed, and being an admirer of the late Mark -Twain, who was a connoisseur in this field, I have classified human beings -in four rough groups: -</p> -<p> -1. Those, like Miss Susan Redding, who sin not and tell no lies. -</p> -<p> -2. Those, like Lem, who sin and tell the truth about it, because they -cannot tell a lie. -</p> -<p> -3. Those, like Henrietta, who lie romantically and without evil intent, -but who are so weakened by it that, although they would not lie to do -intentional harm, do come in time, as Henrietta had come, to lie in -self-protection or to protect another. -</p> -<p> -4. Those who, like Freeman Todder, will lie to do another harm or to win -the liar personal advantage, or for any other reason whatever. -</p> -<p> -Lem, being a boy, was, in my opinion, more or less of a “freak” as the -botanists would say. The young are, and should be up to a certain age, -unethical. This has the advantage that we can take them when they are -innocent of ethics and drill into them the variety of ethics we want them -to have. The undrilled youngster, faced with trouble, will tell a fib or -the truth quite indifferently, as seems desirable at the moment. -</p> -<p> -Of course, we begin the drilling at an extremely early age, in these days, -and a boy of five has often learned that it is nobler to be spanked for -stealing the pie than for lying about it. But he has to be taught, and Lem -had not been taught. There had been nothing in his early lack of training -to teach him that lying was wrong. He had never been spanked for lying, or -shut in a closet for lying, or even scolded or wept over for lying. He had -been born with the ability to lie left out of him, or so weak that it -shriveled up and blew away before he learned to talk. In the matter of -being unable to tell a lie Lem was not to blame; he was born that way. -</p> -<p> -Neither should we be inclined to blame Henrietta too severely if she -romanced frequently, with eyes that looked frankly into other eyes while -she was telling whoppers. Henrietta was a mature woman, healthy and -attractive, but her ethical development had been arrested when she was -about five years old, while her romantic imagination had continued to -grow. Henrietta was, in this one respect, abnormal. -</p> -<p> -We all know, or have known, girls or boys of seven to sixteen years who -tell awful lies. There are others who pick up things that don't belong to -them; who slip upstairs in a neighbor's house when unwatched and open -dresser drawers; otherwise nice girls and boys who just can't help doing -such things. Nearly all have frank, honest eyes. They look you in the eyes -with saintly innocence and say they did not do it. They are cases of -arrested ethical development and cannot help doing what they do. They are -abnormal. -</p> -<p> -Friends and neighbors often say, “Etta Bates is such a liar! Dear, dear! -Mrs. Bates ought to take a strap to her. I'd wale that child within an -inch of her life, but I'd cure her!” Beating such a child does no good, -nor would locking it in prison cure it. The trouble is deeper. -</p> -<p> -Henrietta had been a handsome girl. At twelve her physical development was -that of a young woman of eighteen. She was enthusiastic, noisy, healthy, -and untruthful. She liked to romp, especially with boys. She never knew -her lessons, because she did not waste time on them, but she was at the -head of all when it came to games. When her little friends were still -dressing dolls Henrietta had developed the “he said” habit. Judged by -Henrietta's tales all the boys were mad over her and thought of nothing -else. -</p> -<p> -A year or so later Henrietta began to be caught in lies. She told her -child companions she had gone to dances, gallantly escorted, when she had -been safe in bed all the while. Mothers began to say, “I would n't play -with Henrietta any more than necessary.” - </p> -<p> -Henrietta told lies about any subject that at the moment promised to -glitter more brilliantly as a lie than as a truth. She said her mother was -making her a blue silk dress with red bead embroidery in a sort of Greek -design, and the skirt only shoe-top length, when her mother was making her -no dress at all. She said her mother was going to take her to New York in -the fall, so she could go to a private school where Mr. Vanderbilt's -daughters went, and that she was going to room with Mr. Vanderbilt's -daughter, when her mother in her wildest dreams had never thought of any -such thing. Things like these Henrietta told not only to children, but to -grown-ups. She told the minister that her mother had told her to ask him -what college she ought to attend if she was going to be a missionary. All -this was unpremeditated. She had happened to be passing the minister's -house, so she just dropped in and began lying in her frank-eyed, innocent -way. The minister believed her until he spoke to her mother. Then there -were tears and he agreed to do what he could to reform Henrietta. The -result was that she joined the church and went on lying. She was then -fourteen. -</p> -<p> -More frequently her lies had to do with love affairs. She had no love -affairs, but she invented them. If, returning from school, a boy walked a -block or two with her, she filled every one's ears with tales of his -attentions. It was about that time she began buying herself presents—cheap -beads, plated pins and bracelets—which she said the boys had given -her, and began, also, writing herself “notes” and letters, which she read -to the girls, saying the boys had written them. -</p> -<p> -All the while, except when her romancing made trouble and led to hot -flashes of resentment, every one liked Henrietta. She was kind to every -one, and polite, and helpful in many small ways. Being found out in her -prevarications did not seem to worry her long; it frightened her -stunningly at times, making her gasp, but the fright did not last. In a -few moments it was all over. The whippings her mother gave her, until she -was too big to be whipped, hardly annoyed her. She was fearless -physically; she never admitted that anything hurt her. -</p> -<p> -Her mother, a worried little woman, suffered most. The father was a -traveling salesman and not often home, and Mrs. Bates kept from him as -much of Henrietta's misdoing as she could, killing herself eventually, -crushing herself under the weight of the burden. She would have worried -herself away earlier than she did had the Bates family not moved as often -as it did. As Henrietta reached high-school age, and later, the Bates -family was moving continually, Mr. Bates changing from one job to another -and each time taking his family to his new headquarters. Each time Mrs. -Bates tried to obscure herself and Henrietta, but never with much success -because Henrietta did not wish to be obscured. -</p> -<p> -One particularly unfortunate lie got Henrietta expelled from a high school -she was attending and she was sent to a private school. It was a strict -school, and during her entire stay there she met no young men, but her -letters to her friends and to her mother were filled with romantic -incidents. It was then her famous Billy Vane first appeared in her lies. -</p> -<p> -Lying—whole-souled, brazen lying—has a strange, half-hypnotic -effect on many hearers who are by nature truthful and kind-hearted, as -quite a few human beings are. When a man looks me full in the eyes and -lies to me, I have a feeling of shame. I want to lower my eyes and not -look straight into his. I say to myself, “He is lying, and I know he is -lying, and I am ashamed to look him in the eyes; he will see in my eyes -that I know he is lying.” Then I say to myself, “But if I look down he -will know I am looking down because I know he is lying.” So I continue to -look him straight in the eyes, saying to myself, “I know you are lying, -but I will not let you know I know it.” Then I say to myself, “It does not -matter if you <i>are</i> lying as long as I know you are lying”; and -presently I am sorry for him, as a mother is sorry for a cripple child, -and I pity him, and pity is akin to love. Some whole-souled, brazen, -cheerful liars are among the best-loved men in the world. We know we are -being lied to, but we are also being charmed, as the innocent bird is -charmed by the serpent. -</p> -<p> -Although Henrietta never understood it, the ease with which she made -herself believed was one reason why she continued to be such a liar. Her -eyes compelled belief. No one ever doubted her lies at the moment they -were being told. When her eyes looked straight into the hearer's eyes -there could be no doubting; that sometimes came later when the -self-hypnotism was dissipated. Had Henrietta—especially when she -grew older and was a woman—met doubt or distrust when she told her -fanciful tales, she might have faltered, thought, and stopped. She might -have been cured. -</p> -<p> -After her mother's death Henrietta taught school. That she taught in a -town that had not known her was helpful, undoubtedly. What lies she told -there about her romances in other places were readily enough believed. She -was a satisfactory, commanding teacher, having little trouble with her -students, and a fine, clean figure always, in her black shirt, white -shirt-waist, and a peculiarly clean neatness. She had a gesture of -smoothing her trim waist downward toward her belt with the edges of her -hands that was in itself a certificate of clean spinsterhood. -</p> -<p> -Her misfortune came suddenly and with catastrophic unexpectedness. She had -worked her way upward until she was teaching mathematics (higher algebra, -to be exact) in the high school of a southern Illinois town. With the -teachers of a near-by river town she had kept in close correspondence and -for them she had built a romance of lies, telling of a lover who was -impetuous, young, handsome, and brilliant—“too young for poor me,” - Henrietta had written, and “his father objects, and if there is a match it -will have to be a run-away one. His name”—she had hesitated, fearing -to use “Billy Vane” lest she might have used it before—“is Freeman -Todder,” she had written, jotting down that of the “A Class” boy who had -remained in the classroom while she was writing the letter. Followed much -more, romantically untruthful, but interesting and intended to be so. The -next week two of her teacher friends to whom she had written, wrote her -they meant to make her a visit; they were wild to meet Freeman Todder, -they wrote. -</p> -<p> -Henrietta had one of her sudden panics. She was sitting at her desk in the -schoolroom when she read the letter and she looked toward Freeman Todder. -The unlucky youth was passing a note across the aisle. -</p> -<p> -“Freeman, come here!” Henrietta commanded, and he arose and walked to her -desk. He was as tall then as he was ever to become. He was one of those -boys who think they are already men, and who have begun to accumulate the -vices of bad men, considering them evidences of maturity. He was already -one of the town dandies. -</p> -<p> -“What's the matter now?” he asked when he stood at her desk. -</p> -<p> -“You know what is the matter,” she said. “This cannot go on, Freeman. I -want to talk to you. Remain after school.” - </p> -<p> -He went back to his seat with swaggering bravado, and made especial -efforts to break more of the few slight rules Henrietta had imposed on the -scholars. He hoped she would notice and expel him. He hated school and -wanted to be free to lead a man's life. -</p> -<p> -“It will be all the better for him,” Henrietta told herself, excusing -herself, during the short hours of courtship to which she subjected him -before they “eloped.” - </p> -<p> -“I can make something out of him and if I do not he will go to ruin. He is -headed that way and there is no one to stop him if I do not.” - </p> -<p> -She convinced herself that this was so. As for Freeman, in his egotism he -imagined he was doing the courting. He imagined it was he proposed the -elopement. He felt he was a clever, sophisticated man of the world to be -able to annex the love of this rather magnificent woman, to make her throw -her arms around him and weep wildly on his shoulder. -</p> -<p> -He strutted considerably among the other cheap dandies of the town for a -few days, and then they eloped, if abducting a silly youth can be called -eloping, and were married. It made a great row in the town, of course, and -Freeman and Henrietta did not dare to return. -</p> -<p> -The triumph of feeling that her friends would find all she had said in her -letters was the truth did not last long. She tried to coax Freeman to go -to work, so that they might live the life of a respectable married couple, -but Todder was of little account and was made less so by a growing feeling -that somehow Henrietta had played a trick on him, and by his early -discovery that she was a liar. What the trick was he did not bother to -make sure, but he felt that it was her fault that they were married and -that it was her business now to take care of him. -</p> -<p> -Henrietta was contrite of heart beyond all question. She felt that she had -done Freeman a vast and irreparable wrong, and, as he became more and more -worthless, she blamed herself and not him. Whatever he was and however he -acted it was her duty to bear with him and protect him. -</p> -<p> -The years had been miserable ones. The pair had reached some low depths—penniless -days—but at last Henrietta had won her way into the Riverbank -schools under her assumed name of Henrietta Bates, posing as an unmarried -woman. -</p> -<p> -This was the Henrietta who left Miss Susan pacified and went up to see -Lem. She carried a bag of the largest, yellowest oranges she had been able -to buy. She was in most respects the kindest and most thoughtful of women. -She was liked and respected by all. She had seemed, a few days earlier, -the safest and happiest of women. Now her whole world seemed about to -topple upon her from all sides, crushing her in a chaos of disgrace and -infamy. -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -CHAPTER XI -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hen Henrietta entered Lem's room the boy lay as she had left him, and he -was in a deep, healthy sleep, beads of perspiration on his forehead, for -his room was under a slanting roof that received the full strength of the -afternoon sun. Henrietta stood looking at him a moment and then spoke to -him. He opened his eyes, saw her, and sat up. -</p> -<p> -“Gee!” he said, “I guess I had a long sleep, didn't I?” - </p> -<p> -“A fine one. Look what I've brought you. You like oranges, don't you?” - </p> -<p> -“You bet I do. How long was I asleep?” - </p> -<p> -“Hours and hours.” - </p> -<p> -She seated herself on the bedside and began peeling an orange. Lem -stretched. His eye caught the great vaseful of syringas. -</p> -<p> -“Those are the flowers Lorna brought,” Henrietta said. “She thought you -would like them.” - </p> -<p> -“They're nice,” Lem said. -</p> -<p> -Henrietta divided the orange into sections. -</p> -<p> -“Open your mouth,” she said, and popped a juicy section into Lem's mouth. -He made no effort to get up. He was contented where he was, and opened his -mouth from time to time, as a baby does when being fed. -</p> -<p> -“I bet Aunt Sue is sore on me,” he said presently. “I don't care. She did -n't have to take me if she did n't want to. She made pop leave me. I'd -rather stay with pop an' help him be a saint, anyway. I guess I 'll go -back, anyway, when we get out of jail. How long are pop an' me goin' to be -in jail?” - </p> -<p> -“You're not going to be in jail, either of you,” said Henrietta. “Judge -Bruce fixed it all up.” - </p> -<p> -“I bet Aunt Sue's sorry, ain't she?” asked Lem. -</p> -<p> -“Lem,” Henrietta said, “you must not think badly of your Aunt Sue. She is -a good woman and she means to be kind. She likes you—” - </p> -<p> -“Rats!” said Lem. “She likes me like snakes. She hates me, that's what she -does. I'll get even with <i>her</i>, all right.” - </p> -<p> -Lorna stood in the doorway. -</p> -<p> -“How's Lem?” she asked. -</p> -<p> -“Fine,” said Henrietta, and Lorna came and sat on the other edge of the -bed. -</p> -<p> -“And who is this you're going to get even with, Lem?” Lorna asked. -</p> -<p> -“That old Aunt Sue,” Lem said. “I 'll do it, too. She told that old -Schulig to take me to jail, an' I had n't done nothin' but hook a chunk o' -lead. From old Shuder. He's only a Jew, anyway. He's a Russian Jew. He -ought n't to holler when—” - </p> -<p> -“When what, Lem?” - </p> -<p> -“When it wasn't his lead, anyhow. It was pop's lead. Swatty an' Bony sold -it to pop first. I know, because I bought it from them, an' then they -hooked it out of pop's junk-pile an' sold it to Shuder. So it was n't -Shuder's; it was pop's, anyway. I was just gettin' it back again.” - </p> -<p> -“But you sold it to your father again after you got it back,” expostulated -Henrietta, although she smiled. -</p> -<p> -“Well, it was good lead, wasn't it? It was worth the money, was n't it? We -sold it to him cheap enough, did n't we?” - </p> -<p> -“Yes, but it was his lead already—” - </p> -<p> -“No, it wasn't. Because Swatty an' Bony stole it an' sold it to old -Shuder. He would n't have bought it if it wasn't theirs, would he? He's -too slick to do that, you bet! He knew it was theirs. An', anyway, it -ought to be theirs, because they had it first.” - </p> -<p> -“Had it first?” Henrietta asked. -</p> -<p> -“Out of Harburger's back yard,” said Lem. “It was just lyin' there an' -nobody was doin' anything with it. So they had a right to take it, did n't -they? That's what junk's for, ain't it? What use was an old chunk of lead -stickin' in the mud, I'd like to know! So it was Swatty's an' Bony's, -because they found it.” - </p> -<p> -“Mercy!” exclaimed Lorna. “Do you mean they stole it from Harburger's back -yard and sold it to your father, and then stole it from him and sold it to -Shuder, and then stole it from Shuder and sold it to your father again?” - </p> -<p> -“Why, of course—” - </p> -<p> -“And I suppose,” said Lorna, “they would have gone on forever, stealing it -from your father and selling it to Shuder, and stealing it from Shuder to -sell to your father.” - </p> -<p> -“No,” Lem said. -</p> -<p> -“Why not? How many times does a junkman have to buy a piece of lead before -it becomes sinful to steal from him?” - </p> -<p> -“I don't know. But, anyway,” said Lem, “they'd have had to stop pretty -soon, because old Shuder would get to know that chunk o' lead by heart, -an' he'd know he had bought it before, so he would n't buy it again.” - </p> -<p> -“I'm afraid you don't understand the Riverbank youth's theory of property -rights in old metal, Lorna,” said Henrietta. “It seems to be based on the -idea that anything that can be picked up belongs to the picker-up.” - </p> -<p> -“But not railroad iron,” said Lem. “You got to leave that alone because -nobody'll buy it off you. They'll get pinched if they do.” - </p> -<p> -“But after a junkman has bought it, Lem, it belongs to him,” said Lorna. -“I might see how useless old metal, even if not just lying on the street, -might seem to be nobody's property, but when it is in a junkman's yard—” - </p> -<p> -“Well, they could take care of it if they wanted to,” said Lem. “They -could put barb-wire on the fence, or somethin', if they did n't want it -stole. How does anybody know they don't want it stole when they just leave -it out in the yard? How would anybody know it was n't just some old junk -they left out there on purpose to have it stole?” - </p> -<p> -Lorna looked at Henrietta and shook her head. This sort of logic was too -much for her. -</p> -<p> -“But I bet you one thing,” said Lem. “I would n't ever buy any junk they -had just stole out of pop's yard. If they went around back an' stole some, -an' brought it around front an' wanted to sell it, you bet I would n't buy -it. That ain't honest. That's cheatin'.” - </p> -<p> -“So you see, Lorna,” said Henrietta; “what is needed here is an education -in property rights and not summary punishment. But I have a feeling that -Lem's theory of rights will be hard to make clear to Miss Susan.” - </p> -<p> -“Well, I'll get even with her, all right,” said Lem, nodding his head. -“You wait an' you'll see! She can't make my father leave me here an' then -go an' tell old Schulig to put me in jail. I'll get even, you bet!” - </p> -<p> -“Listen, Lem,” Henrietta said, taking his hand. “You must not feel that -way.” - </p> -<p> -“Well, I do, just the same,” he said. -</p> -<p> -“But you must not. Your Aunt Sue likes you—” - </p> -<p> -“In a pig's eye, she does!” - </p> -<p> -“Yes, she does. She loves you, Lem. We all love you. Your Aunt Sue does -n't understand boys yet, and she was upset when she heard you say you had -stolen—” - </p> -<p> -“I'll upset her, all right!” - </p> -<p> -The supper bell tinkled and Henrietta arose. “Shall I bring you your -supper?” she asked. “A nice tray, with everything on it I can think of? So -you won't have to go down this evening?” - </p> -<p> -“Yes, mam. If you want to,” Lem said. They were no sooner out of the room -than Lem was out of the bed and putting on his few ragged garments. It -required only a moment. Then he pushed up the screen of his only window, -climbed out upon the roof, and, hanging from the gutter, dropped to the -ground. He paused to see that he was not pursued and then made a dash for -the back gate. -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -CHAPTER XII -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">L</span>em found his father preparing his evening meal in the junkyard shack and -not at all glad to see Lem. -</p> -<p> -“What you want?” he asked. “If your aunt sent you down here to get money -out of me, it ain't no sort of use. I ain't got a dollar to spare.” - </p> -<p> -“She did n't send me; I come,” Lem told him. “Well, what did you come for? -I ain't goin' to have you comin' here. To-morrow mornin' I'm goin' to -start in bein' a saint for fair and I can't be bothered with no kids -hangin' around. This here saint business is difficult enough to do without -kids to take a feller's mind off it. What did you come for?” - </p> -<p> -“I've quit livin' with Aunt Sue,” Lem said. “I hate her, and I ain't goin' -to stay with her.” - </p> -<p> -“You mean you've run away from her house?” - </p> -<p> -“Yes, I do!” said Lem. “You heard her tell old Schulig to jail me. I ain't -goin' to live with no aunt that tells old Schulig to jail me.” Harvey -turned the egg he had in the small frying-pan. He liked his eggs done on -both sides. -</p> -<p> -“You had your supper?” he asked Lem. -</p> -<p> -“No.” - </p> -<p> -“Well, you won't get none when you go back, I 'll bet on that, if Sue is -havin' one of her rantankerous spells. Eat this egg. I got a couple more. -I want em all et up to-night, anyway; I ain't goin't' eat 'em after -to-night. To my way of thinkin' eggs is too fancy for a hermit saint to -eat. When you go back you tell your aunt you heard me say so. Dod-baste -her! She thinks I'm foolin' when I say I'm goin' to be a saint. You tell -her how earnest I am goin' at it, Lem, eatin' every dod-basted egg I got -in the shack. Yes, and all the bacon, too. You tell her you seen me -gettin' ready to eat all the unsaintly food I got before midnight, so's I -could start clean an' parsimonious, or whatever you call it, to-morrow -mornin'.” - </p> -<p> -He looked at the square of bacon on his shelf. “I guess I'd better fry you -up some bacon, too, Lem,” he said. “I got to keep out o' temptation from -now on an' there's most more bacon in that hunk than I can swaller -to-night. You tell your Aunt Sue I used up' all my bacon an' eggs, will -you?” - </p> -<p> -“No. I ain't goin' back.” - </p> -<p> -“Yes, you are, too!” said Harvey. “Why, dod-baste it all, Lem, I put you -in pawn, did n't I? I'd be a nice-lookin' saint, would n't I, if I went -an' pawned you to your aunt an' then let you come back? Why, look here! -she could jail me for it, if I let you come back. You ain't got no right -to come out of pawn. I'd be a nice sort o' saint if I let you. I'd be a -dod-basted old liar, that's what I'd be.” - </p> -<p> -“I ain't goin' back,” said Lem. -</p> -<p> -“Now, Lem, you looky here,” Harvey said. “You don't understand this -business. I don't say I ought to expect you to, you bein' young yet, but I -owe your aunt a heap of money—a heap!—an' if she went an' -pushed me all over the place for it I'd have a dod-basted hades of a time -tryin' to be a saint. That aunt of yours gets on my nerves so gosh all -awful—” - </p> -<p> -“She gets on mine worse 'n that,” said Lem. -</p> -<p> -“Now, <i>that</i> ain't got nothin' to do with it,” said Harvey irritably. -“Don't you interrupt. If your aunt gets to chasin' me all round town an' -back, pesterin' me for that money, I might as well give up bein' a saint -right now an' go back in the junk business.” - </p> -<p> -“You don't have to be no saint, do you?” asked Lem resentfully. -</p> -<p> -“Yes, I do,” said Harvey. “You don't understand it, but I've been called. -I've heard the call; callin' me to be a saint in this land where there -ain't no saints. I've heard the call, Lem.” - </p> -<p> -“Where from?” Lem asked. -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> </a> -</p> -<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> -<img alt="158 (71K)" src="images/158.jpg" width="100%" /><br /> -</div> -<p> -“From heaven; where do you think I'd get it from?” asked Harvey irritably. -“The post-office? Do you s'pose it come in a registered letter, with a -special delivery stamp on it? That ain't no way a saint gets called. I -heard it in my heart, dod-baste it! like any other saint would hear it.” - </p> -<p> -“How long you goin' to be one?” Lem asked dismally. -</p> -<p> -“Why—why, forever. From now on. It ain't no <i>job</i>, Lem. It -ain't no <i>business</i>. It's—it's a way of bein', like an angel is -or a—a somethin' or other. When you're a saint you keep on bein' -one. Once a saint, always a saint. Saints keep right on bein' saints -forever, gettin' holier an' holier, an' workin' for mankind.” - </p> -<p> -“What kind of work do they do?” Lem asked. He had eaten the egg and was -eating the crisped bacon—Harvey always had the best bacon. -</p> -<p> -“They don't do no work; not the kind of work you mean,” Harvey said. “They -just work to be a saint. They work to be good. Some of 'em has a sort of -sideline like I'm goin' to have. I'm goin' to work to be kind to stray -dogs.” - </p> -<p> -Lem finished his bacon. His freckled face set in firm resolution. -</p> -<p> -“I'm goin' to stay here an' help you be a saint, pop,” he said. “I'm goin' -to be a saint, too. I can be a young one, can't I?” - </p> -<p> -“I'll be eternally dod-basted if—” Harvey began angrily, but he -remembered himself. “No, Lem,” he said with forced gentleness, “that ain't -in my plans. I can't let you do it. Not now. You 're too young yet. You go -back to your aunt an' be a good boy, an' when I get her all paid off an' -get you out of pawn, maybe I 'll see about it. After-while. In a year or -two, maybe. Just yet awhile I got to suffer alone an' in silence, as you -may say. You go back to your aunt like a good boy an' I 'll give you a -dollar.” - </p> -<p> -“I want to stay here.” - </p> -<p> -“You can't stay here.” - </p> -<p> -“Lemme see the dollar, then.” - </p> -<p> -Harvey produced a dollar, a big, silver one, and Lem took it. He had not -taken off his hat, so he did not have to put it on. “I 'll go back,” he -said as he paused at the door, “but I won't stay. She's mean.” - </p> -<p> -Harvey had turned his own egg and bacon on to the plate Lem had just -emptied. -</p> -<p> -“She's mean,” Lem repeated. “I don't care what you are; I'd rather be with -you, anyway. I'd rather be with you, even if you are a saint.” - </p> -<p> -Harvey had been about to begin on his bacon and eggs, but he paused with -his knife and fork suspended. -</p> -<p> -“Lem,” he said. -</p> -<p> -“What?” - </p> -<p> -“You go back to your Aunt Sue, Lem,” Harvey said with sudden tenderness, -“an' git along the best you can with her. For a while, anyway. But you -don't have to let her be too dod-basted mean to you, Lem. You come an' -tell me if she is, because maybe I might get a notion to git out of this -saint business sooner than I think I will. I guess I don't have to let you -be put upon too dod-basted much, saint or no saint. You come an' see me -once in a while, anyway. Now git along with you.” - </p> -<p> -Lem went, but his heart was far lighter. His father had not cast him off -totally. He stood outside the junkyard gate a few moments in the deepening -dusk. Then he had a happy thought. He looked over his shoulder and started -down the street at an easy, unhurried run. He did not pause until he -reached the high fence at the rear of Moses Shuder's junkyard. He raised -himself by grasping the top of the fence and looked inside. The -opportunity seemed perfect. He slid over the fence and moved cautiously -among the shadows until he reached the shed where Shuder stored the more -valuable of his properties. His toe stubbed itself on the very chunk of -lead he was seeking. Keeping a lookout over his shoulder he dragged the -heavy lump of metal to the fence, boosted it over, and shinnied after it. -Close at hand was the wide opening into the rainwater sewer and into this -Lem pushed the chunk of lead, hearing it splash far below. Then, feeling -more at peace with the world, he went slowly back to his Aunt Susan's. He -climbed to the kitchen roof, into his room, into his bed, and slept -peacefully and without a dream. -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -CHAPTER XIII -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hat Miss Susan never knew that Lem had stolen from his room that evening -was due to the fact that Henrietta had carried the tray to the room. The -half-open screen told her how Lem had gone, and when she took the tray -down again it was as empty as if a boy with a healthy appetite had dined -off its contents. Henrietta ate a rather light supper in consequence. -</p> -<p> -“I don't feel hungry,” she said in answer to Susan's question, and Susan -imagined it was because Henrietta was worrying over the revelation she had -been forced to make that Freeman Todder was her husband. -</p> -<p> -“Don't you worry about what you told me,” Susan said when she found her -alone for a moment after supper. “It's all right as long as you're a -married couple. The only thing I want is to be able to keep the good name -of this boarding-house clear, and speak right up to anybody that questions -it, Mrs. Todder.” - </p> -<p> -“Oh, please don't call me that,” begged Henrietta, in fright. -</p> -<p> -“I've got to,” said Miss Susan. “I've got to do it once in a while. I've -got to be able to say, to anybody that finds out, 'My sakes, I knew it all -along. I always called her Mrs. Todder when we was private alone -together.' So don't you worry. All I ask is to see your marriage -certificate, so I can say I saw it.” - </p> -<p> -“Of course, I 'll show you that,” agreed Henrietta; but she had a drowning -sensation. She could not remember what had become of her marriage -certificate; if it was still in existence it might be anywhere. -</p> -<p> -“Not that I'm in a hurry,” said Susan. “Tomorrow will do. I've got to go -up now and see how that boy is getting along, I suppose. If ever there was -a fool I was one when I took him.” - </p> -<p> -“I know you don't mean that,” said Henrietta, putting her hand on Susan's -arm. “It has been an annoyance—having that ridiculous policeman come -for him—but you really like the boy, Miss Susan. Don't you? In your -heart of hearts?” - </p> -<p> -“I don't like a thief,” said Susan grimly. -</p> -<p> -“But Lem is not that,” Henrietta urged. “All boys do what he did—most -boys—if they have the chance. They mean no wrong, I know.” - </p> -<p> -“They don't do things like that and stay in <i>my</i> house,” Susan said. -</p> -<p> -“But Lem is such a dear boy—” - </p> -<p> -“He'd have to be a whole sight dearer before I'd ever want a thief in my -house,” Susan interrupted. “I'll let him stay to-night, but tomorrow back -he goes to his worthless parent, money or no money.” - </p> -<p> -It was evident her dislike was still keen, and Henrietta knew it would -never do for his aunt to discover he had decamped, even temporarily, by -the window. Lem might not return, but if he did Miss Susan must not know -he had ever fled. That, she was sure, Susan would never forgive. -</p> -<p> -“Let me go up to him, Miss Susan,” she begged. “You're tired and it makes -you cross, and I love Lem.” - </p> -<p> -Miss Susan was willing, and Henrietta went up to the empty room. When she -came down she said there was nothing the matter with Lem now, as far as -she could see, which was, in a way, true enough, for she had looked out of -his window and could not see him at all. -</p> -<p> -The evening was pleasant. Gay, who had come across the street, and Lorna -and Freeman were already on the porch. As Henrietta went out to them, -Carter Bruce came up the walk. Gay was on the step, with Freeman at her -side, and they were talking in low tones. Bruce hailed every one and -stopped in front of Freeman. -</p> -<p> -“I hear you are going to leave us,” he said. “First I've heard it,” said -Todder lightly. “Where did you get that?” - </p> -<p> -“I got it straight,” Carter said. “I hear you 're going to leave Riverbank -the first of the week.” - </p> -<p> -“Nothing in it,” said Todder carelessly. “Why leave Riverbank where the -fairest girls are? Must have meant some other fellow, Bruce.” - </p> -<p> -“No. You're the man. I'm not mistaken,” Bruce said. -</p> -<p> -Henrietta leaned forward in her chair. “Stuff!” Freeman laughed -carelessly. “Why should I want to leave Riverbank?” - </p> -<p> -“Come here a minute and I'll tell you what I heard,” said Bruce, keeping -to the tone of inoffensive friendliness. -</p> -<p> -Todder arose and walked a few yards away with Carter Bruce. -</p> -<p> -“Excuse the secretive males,” Bruce called; and then his tone changed, as -he spoke to Todder. “You are going to leave because you have a wife you -ought to be looking after, instead of making up to some of the girls here. -I've got this straight, understand? So you get out of town before the -first of next week or there'll be trouble.” - </p> -<p> -Todder felt in his pocket for a cigarette. -</p> -<p> -“Got a wife I ought to be looking after, have I?” he said. “That's glad -tidings. Nothing like having a wife. Now, where is this wife of mine?” He -did not know how much Carter Bruce knew, or how he had learned what he did -know, but he felt fairly positive that Bruce did not know much or he would -not have suggested that he ought to be looking after his wife. Henrietta -was his wife, and he was, all things considered, fairly close to her even -at that moment. “Just where is this wife of mine, Bruce? I'm interested. -That's proper, is n't it? A man ought to be interested in his wife.” - </p> -<p> -“You know where she is,” Bruce said. -</p> -<p> -“That means you don't,” said Freeman, suddenly taking the offensive. “That -means somebody has been lying to you or you have been overworking your -imagination. Where is this wife of mine?” - </p> -<p> -Carter smiled. He had played for this. He watched Freeman Todder's face, -to see the sneering smile die when he spoke. -</p> -<p> -“Your wife,” he said slowly, “is in Colorado.” The effect on Freeman -Todder was not at all what Bruce had expected. Instead of cringing he -shouted a laugh. He even clapped Bruce on the shoulder. -</p> -<p> -“You've got me all wrong, Bruce,” he said. “I know what's the matter with -you—you're jealous. You're gone on Gay yonder and you're sore -because you think I'm cutting you out. Well, don't go spreading any of -these 'you're married' lies about me in our beautiful little city, -understand? I won't stand that.” - </p> -<p> -Bruce said nothing. It was evident there was something wrong with his -information. He had no reason to doubt that Henrietta believed what she -had told him, but something was wrong somewhere. He had tried to “throw a -scare” into Todder and the scare had not worked as he had expected. He -blamed himself, a lawyer, even if a young one, for having attempted a -bluff before he had his evidence in proper shape to back his bluff, but he -felt reasonably sure that when he had had another talk with Henrietta he -would have the facts so completely in hand that he would be more -successful. -</p> -<p> -Todder lighted his cigarette. This, in Iowa at that date, was in itself -equivalent to a show of bravado, for the cigarette was a sign of deep -depravity, so much so that the Riverbank audiences were never quite sure -the “vilyun” on the stage was actually a villain until he had lighted a -“coffin nail.” Even Simon Legree, in “Uncle Tom's Cabin” had to come to -it, and if Uncle Tom had put match to a cigarette he would have lost the -sympathy and gained the hatred of all respectable citizens. By lighting a -cigarette Freeman Todder was, in a way, flaunting his devilishness in the -face of his rival. -</p> -<p> -“Your jealousy has given you wheels in the head, that's what's the matter -with you, Bruce,” Todder said carelessly. “If you want to get the real -inside information about my wife affairs, past, present, or to be, I 'll -give it to you straight. The only wife I ever expect to have is sitting on -that porch. There you have it and you can do what you please with it. You -can stand here if you want to; I'm going back and talk to Gay.” Bruce -walked back at his side. -</p> -<p> -“I seem to have been mistaken,” he said in the tone he would have used had -he believed he was mistaken, and in a few minutes the incident seemed to -be forgotten. -</p> -<p> -Henrietta, however, was greatly disturbed. She could not guess what had -passed between the two men nor how much Bruce had told or Todder guessed. -She was, for the moment, exceedingly unhappy. She looked at Freeman -closely, trying to judge what had been said, but his face offered no -information. -</p> -<p> -If anything Bruce had said so acted on Freeman that the latter tried to -leave town, the very worst was apt to happen. Johnnie Alberson, thinking -he had been played a trick, would in all probability have Freeman -arrested. That would very promptly end everything. Henrietta drew her -chair far back in the shadow of the porch and sat silent, trying to plan -something when there was in fact nothing that could be planned until she -had spoken with Freeman. She had closed her eyes, trying to think, when -she heard Lorna say, “Who's that?” - </p> -<p> -Henrietta peered into the dusk and saw a plump, jaunty figure coming up -the walk toward the house. -</p> -<p> -“It's Johnnie Alberson,” Freeman answered Lorna. -</p> -<p> -It was Johnnie Alberson. He came to the porch smiling and swinging his -light cane, his straw hat in his hand. -</p> -<p> -“Hello! quite a party,” he said. “Won't anybody offer a fat, old man a -seat?” - </p> -<p> -He walked between Lorna and Gay, up the steps, and peered into the shadows -of the porch. -</p> -<p> -“Is that you, Miss Redding?” he asked. -</p> -<p> -Henrietta had hoped she would not be seen. At that moment there was no one -she less wished to see than Johnnie Alberson. -</p> -<p> -“No, this is Miss Bates,” she said; and Johnnie, excusing himself for -making the mistake, went to her end of the porch and took the chair at her -side. He was pleased, because he had hoped to find her there. It had been -a thought of Henrietta that had sent him tramping up the long hill. He -had, after Henrietta's visit to the drug store, thought of Henrietta quite -a little and he had decided that—unless his memory deceived him—she -was just about the finest woman he had ever seen; that she was the sort of -woman with whom he would enjoy a flirtation, let it go as far as it might. -</p> -<p> -“Like meeting an old friend,” he said, putting his hat carefully on the -floor. “And I hope we'll be better friends. Mother has gone to Dubuque to -spend a couple of weeks and I'm going to ask Miss Redding to take me in, -if she has room.” - </p> -<p> -“That will be nice,” said Henrietta warmly, but she felt that the coming -of Johnnie was almost too much. -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -CHAPTER XIV -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he evening proved more satisfactory than Henrietta had feared. Carter -Bruce did not leave Gay to Freeman, but seemed to have taken Henrietta's -warning thoroughly to heart. It is true that Freeman tried to monopolize -Gay, rather driving Carter to Lorna, but Carter would not be wholly driven -and managed to make it a party of four on the steps, talking across Lorna -at Gay. -</p> -<p> -Neither was Johnnie Alberson as fearsome as Henrietta had feared. If he -meant to press his attentions on her—and he certainly did mean to—he -was too wise to begin too violently. Flirtation was a game with Johnnie -and one in which he was an experienced hand. When, about eleven, he said -good-night, Henrietta had spent one of the pleasantest evenings of her -life. She settled herself in her chair again, listening to the four -younger people on the steps, to the crickets in the grass, and to the -thumping of Miss Susan's iron in the kitchen. -</p> -<p> -Carter, when Gay finally arose, went with her, and Henrietta was pleased -to see that he took her arm and that she did not object to this slight -attention. -</p> -<p> -“Going up, Lorna?” Henrietta asked, meaning the question more as a hint to -Freeman, for she wanted to talk with him, but he did not take the hint and -sat on the step smoking when they went in. -</p> -<p> -It was an hour later—fully midnight—when Miss Susan laid aside -her irons and went to her room. The house was silent, for Freeman had gone -to his room half an hour before and Miss Susan climbed the stairs wearily. -She was so tired that when she reached her room she sat on the edge of her -bed, almost too tired to bend to undo her shoe-laces, and suddenly her -eyes fell on her purse, which she had left on her dresser. It was wide -open. -</p> -<p> -Miss Susan crossed the room and took the purse in her hand. It was empty. -For a minute she stood looking into it and then she opened her door and -went into the hall. -</p> -<p> -The purse had not contained much money—eleven or twelve dollars, if -she remembered rightly—but that was gone. At Lem's door she paused, -listening, for she heard subdued noises within the room. She opened the -door suddenly. -</p> -<p> -The boy stood in the full moonlight, fully dressed and his ragged straw -hat on his head, just as he had come in from his visit to his father. He -turned as the door opened and the next moment Miss Susan had him by the -collar. He tried to pull away toward the window, but she held him fast and -he fell and was on his feet again in an instant, kicking and striking. -Miss Susan held tight to the collar. -</p> -<p> -The small stand holding the ewer and basin toppled and fell with a -crashing of queensware, and almost before the noise ceased Lorna and -Henrietta were at the door. A minute later Freeman came, and Lorna fled, -being too lightly clad. -</p> -<p> -“Grab him! Grab the little rat!” Susan cried, and Freeman clasped the boy -from behind, slipping his hands under his arms, and spreading his own feet -wide apart to escape the kicks the sobbingly angry boy dealt with his bare -heels. -</p> -<p> -“You leave me alone,” Lem sobbed, doubling his kicks and jerking to set -himself free. Miss Susan, as Freeman tightened his grip, felt in the boy's -pockets, bringing forth a silver dollar, but no more. -</p> -<p> -“Lem! Lem, dear!” - </p> -<p> -The boy looked up. Henrietta was standing in the doorway, her voice -commanding but soothing. In the instant before Freeman or Susan could turn -their heads toward her, she closed her eyes and stiffened her body. At the -moment Lem was too angry to heed her, but, in another moment, he felt that -his struggles were useless, and he grasped what she meant. Suddenly he -grew white and rigid and lay in Freeman's arms, stiffly inert. -</p> -<p> -“I was afraid of that! I was afraid of that!” Henrietta said, and she went -to take Lem from Freeman. -</p> -<p> -Miss Susan, one hand comforting the side of her face where one of Lem's -blows had fallen, scowled at the boy. -</p> -<p> -“The thief!” she exclaimed angrily. “The miserable, low, thieving brat! He -robbed my purse. I 'll show him! I 'll see that he gets what he deserves -now! Fit or no fit he does not stay in my house another hour.” - </p> -<p> -Henrietta paid no attention to her. Lorna was at the door now, a robe -thrown around her. -</p> -<p> -“What was it?” she asked. “What did he do?” - </p> -<p> -“He stole from me,” said Miss Susan. “He robbed my purse. And out he -goes!” - </p> -<p> -“But not to-night,” said Henrietta, braving her. “Not while he is like -this.” - </p> -<p> -She tried to lift him, but he was too heavy. “Take him, Freeman,” she -said. -</p> -<p> -Freeman lifted the boy and turned toward the bed. -</p> -<p> -“Not there,” said Henrietta. “In my room. He is not wanted here, but my -room is my own. To-morrow, if Miss Redding wishes, Lem and I will go. -Come, Freeman.” - </p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -CHAPTER XV -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>efore Freeman had placed Lem on Henrietta's bed, Henrietta had her door -closed and locked. She stood with her back to the door, facing Freeman -when he turned. She had several things she wanted to say to him. She had -not the slightest doubt that he had taken Miss Susan's money and there -were other things she wished to talk over with him. Her position was -becoming more and more difficult each hour. -</p> -<p> -What she meant to say she did not know, and neither did she know what she -meant to do when all was said. One thing seemed to her particularly -monstrous—that Lem should be held guilty for a theft he had not -committed—and in her present state of mind she was ready to -sacrifice both Freeman and herself to save Lem. Her own life, and -Freeman's, seemed already ruined, and as she stood there she was resolved -that before Freeman left the room everything must be decided. -</p> -<p> -Freeman, as he turned, looked at her. He knew by the look on her face and -the light in her eyes that she had been driven beyond all patience by this -last act of his. -</p> -<p> -“What do you want?” he asked, moving away from the bed. -</p> -<p> -“To talk with you,” Henrietta said. “I am through. This is the end, of -course.” - </p> -<p> -“A nice little family chat, I suppose,” he sneered. “Door locked, hubby -captured, wifey angry. Act 3, Scene 2. Villain husband lights cigarette.” - </p> -<p> -He took his pack of cigarettes from his pocket and shook one out, knocking -it on the back of his hand before he lighted it. -</p> -<p> -“Wife glares at husband,” he continued, in the same tone. “Husband -nonchalantly crosses stage to chair.” - </p> -<p> -He walked toward the chair that stood by Henrietta's window. -</p> -<p> -“And exit husband,” he said, raising the wire screen of the window and -stepping out upon the tin roof of the porch. Henrietta leaped forward, but -only in time to hear the crackling of the tin as Freeman crossed to his -own window. She heard his screen clatter down, and the creak of his window -as he lowered it, and even the grating of the safety lock as he quite -satisfactorily locked himself in. -</p> -<p> -For a moment Henrietta looked at her window; then she turned to Lem. -</p> -<p> -“Lem!” she commanded. “Lem, wake up!” The boy did not stir. -</p> -<p> -“Lem!” she said. “Wake up. I know you are only pretending. Stop this -fooling; I want to talk to you.” - </p> -<p> -But Lem would not waken. She tried other ways, talking to him all the -while, tickling the tough soles of his bare feet and opening his eyelids, -but he was not to be coaxed or driven out of the pretended fit. -</p> -<p> -“Very well, then,” Henrietta said, seating herself on the bedside. “I'll -talk to you, anyway, for I know you hear me. I know you did not steal Miss -Susan's money, but she will never believe that. I know Freeman stole it.” - </p> -<p> -Lem lay as inert as a corpse. If he heard he gave no sign. -</p> -<p> -“Listen, Lem,” Henrietta continued. “What I want to tell you is that you -must not run away, if you were thinking of running away. That was why I -had you brought here, so I could tell you that. You understand, don't you? -You must not run away; not to-night, anyway.” - </p> -<p> -There was still no sign from the boy on the bed. “I 'll tell you why,” - Henrietta went on. “If you do, every one will always think you are a -thief, and all your life you will have trouble and misery and unhappiness. -All your whole life, even if you live to be a hundred. So I want you to -promise not to run away to-night. Will you promise that?” - </p> -<p> -Lem did not answer. -</p> -<p> -“I wish you would,” pleaded Henrietta. “I'm tired, Lem, and my heart is -tired to-night. I want to sleep and see if sleep will bring me any answer -to the troubles I can't see my way out of to-night. There may be some way, -but I do not see it now, and if you will not promise not to run away I 'll -have to go to Miss Susan now and tell her that Freeman stole her money. I -want to save you, Lem, but I want to save myself and Freeman, too, if I -can, and if I tell Miss Susan the truth it means ruin for me. I will have -to go away forever. Will you promise now not to run away?” - </p> -<p> -She looked at him, but not a muscle of his face quivered. She arose, and -drew her robe more closely around her neck, and went to the door. There -she gave a last look toward the bed. Lem was sitting straight. -</p> -<p> -“Aw, gee!” he said. “Don't go an' tell her nothin' like that. Don't you go -an' tell her Freeman took her money. Because he didn't take it. I took -it.” - </p> -<p> -“Lem!” Henrietta cried, with a deep breath, while her eyes showed her -distress. “Not truly? You don't mean that, Lem?” - </p> -<p> -“Yes, I did!” he insisted. “I took it. I took it, but I did n't steal it. -I took it to get even with her, callin' me a thief an' everything.” - Henrietta returned to sit on the edge of the bed. -</p> -<p> -“Oh, Lem!” she said. “How could you!” - </p> -<p> -“Well, she was mean to me, so I was mean to her,” he said. “I got a right -to get even with her, have n't I? I don't have to let her be mean to me -an' not be mean to her, do I?” - </p> -<p> -“But to steal!” cried Henrietta. -</p> -<p> -“I didn't either steal!” declared Lem stubbornly. “I just took. I just -took her old money an' put it where she would n't get it again, so she'd -wish she had n't ever wanted to be mean to me.” - </p> -<p> -“Where did you put it?” asked Henrietta. -</p> -<p> -“I won't tell you!” - </p> -<p> -“You will tell me! You 'll tell me this instant!” - </p> -<p> -Henrietta had not been a school teacher fot years for nothing. Now, by an -instantaneous change, she was all a school teacher—a school teacher -able to command rebellious boys for their own good. -</p> -<p> -“I won't either tell you!” declared Lem. -</p> -<p> -“Very well!” said Henrietta, and she arose and began to draw on her -stockings. -</p> -<p> -“What you goin' to do?” Lem asked. -</p> -<p> -“No matter,” she said. “You are going to tell me what you did with that -money.” - </p> -<p> -Lem watched her uneasily. She drew on her shoes with the brisk movements -of one who knows exactly what she has planned to do and how she has -planned to do it. She drew the shoe-laces taut with little jerks that made -the metal tips snap against the shoes. -</p> -<p> -“Are you going to wale me?” asked Lem. -</p> -<p> -“No matter. You'll know soon enough.” - </p> -<p> -“I ain't afraid of being waled,” said Lem. Henrietta was snapping the -hooks of her corset now, not looking at Lem. There was a businesslike -briskness in the way she snapped hook after hook and reached for her skirt -that frightened Lem. -</p> -<p> -“Well, anyway, you might tell a feller what you're goin' to do to him,” he -said uneasily. -</p> -<p> -“Never mind,” Henrietta said, and jerked the band of the skirt two inches -to the left around her waist. She reached for her jacket and thrust her -arms into the sleeves, reaching for her hat almost the same instant. -</p> -<p> -“Well, what do I care who knows where I put the money?” said Lem. “I made -her mad, all right. I wa'n't afraid to say where I put it. You don't need -to think I'm afraid to.” Henrietta jabbed a pin into her hat and put her -hand on the doorknob. -</p> -<p> -“Where did you put it?” she demanded. -</p> -<p> -“I put it in her shoe.” - </p> -<p> -“What shoe?” - </p> -<p> -“Her shoe in her closet.” - </p> -<p> -“Her Sunday shoes? The shoes with the cloth tops?” - </p> -<p> -“Yes, mam.” - </p> -<p> -“All of it?” - </p> -<p> -Lem nodded an affirmative. -</p> -<p> -“Very well,” said Henrietta. “You'll stay here; understand?” - </p> -<p> -“Yes, mam,” said Lem meekly. “I'll stay.” - </p> -<p> -“See that you do, if you know what is good for you,” said Henrietta, and -she went into the hall, closing the door behind her, but leaving it -unlocked. She knew Lem would not try to run away that night. -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -CHAPTER XVI -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t may be doubted if Henrietta would ever have worked as hard to save -herself as she worked that night with Miss Susan to save Lem. At the end -of the long plea for the boy, the best Miss Susan would say was that if he -was not a thief he was an imp of Satan and she wished she had never set -eyes on him. She supposed, however, she would have to keep him for, -goodness knew! it was the only way she would ever get her money out of -that no-account brother of hers. -</p> -<p> -Henrietta went back to her room utterly weary and disheartened with the -world in general. Lem she sent back to his own room with a warning that he -was to try no escape business. The boy was, indeed, too sleepy now to want -anything but sleep. He went staggering to his room, and it would be hard -to tell whether he or Henrietta was asleep the sooner, for she threw -herself on her bed as she was, only removing her hat and jacket, and she -did not awaken until the sun on her face and the discomfort of her shoes -brought her to herself again. She opened her eyes with a sense that -everything was going wrong in her world. -</p> -<p> -In this feeling she was not far wrong. The amount of her debt—in -money—to Lorna, Gay, and Johnnie Alberson, to say nothing of the -board money she owed Miss Susan, was enough to worry any school teacher. -In Freeman she had a constant source of worriment, not knowing what folly -or crime he might undertake next; the lies she had told so freely -threatened to make trouble any moment, and she had Gay on her conscience, -too. -</p> -<p> -The next few days held nothing to make Henrietta happier. Johnnie Alberson -took up his residence at the boarding-house, and the way in which he -flirted with Henrietta did not please Miss Susan. -</p> -<p> -From the day of his installation at Miss Redding's, Johnnie Alberson made -open and almost outspoken love to Henrietta, and Miss Redding looked upon -it sourly. She would have sent Henrietta away instantly but for the -equally open and almost outspoken attitude of disapproval shown Johnnie by -Henrietta. Henrietta could not, Susan knew, say outright that she was a -married woman, but Susan was none the less displeased. She made up her -mind that as soon as possible after Johnnie Alberson left, she would send -Henrietta away. To interfere while Johnnie remained seemed to her to -invite scandalous gossip, and she did not think of sending Johnnie -packing. He was an Alberson, and every one knows what that means in -Riverbank. Temporarily, therefore, Miss Redding vented her irritation on -Lem. He was, a good part of the time, a sulky boy in tears, for he had a -new grievance. Miss Susan had taken his dollar and had not returned it. -</p> -<p> -It has been remarked before, by other observers, how some good women, -otherwise admirable, can take a bitter dislike to certain children, and -Miss Susan—overworked, harassed by the thought of the -scandal-pregnant presence of Henrietta, and “pulled down” by a spell of -unusually hot weather—made Lem's days miserable. She even heaped -upon him a crowning indignity and made him wash the dinner dishes. He -might almost have washed them in the tears he shed over them. -</p> -<p> -“I've got you, and I suppose I 've got to keep you,” she told him, “but, -if so, you've got to be of use. I can't afford to feed useless boys, and -it's no use to bawl about it. You're better off washing dishes than -skirmishing around stealing from folks, anyway.” - </p> -<p> -If idle hands are the only hands for which the devil finds work, Lem was -in little danger of doing the devil's work during those days. He was too -busy doing Miss Susan's. The great stove in the kitchen seemed to swallow -wood by the cord during those hot days, and Miss Susan, for economy's -sake, was burning pine slabs from the sawmill, and they had to be chopped. -The big, drab-painted wood box always needed filling. It was always empty -to the last handful of pine bark, Lem thought. -</p> -<p> -The boarding-house dishes, too, seemed to breed in great masses, like -sturgeon eggs. He had never imagined there were so many dishes in the -world. He had to carry the dishwater to the alley, to empty it, because -the grease would kill the grass. He had to pump water for the washlady, -who came twice a week. He had to carry water to fill the ewers in all the -rooms, and he even suffered the indignity of having to carry down slops. -He felt he was a slave and he was more bitterly and miserably resentful -than any slave had ever been. -</p> -<p> -In addition to all the other work there was the yard to cut. This Lem knew -to be sheer thought-up, intentional cruelty to youth, for the yard had -never been cut before. In places the matted, dried grass was the -accumulation of years, tough and stringy. It was a huge yard; to Lem it -seemed like square miles. -</p> -<p> -To cut the grass he had a sickle that had seen better days, but not -recently. It was like cutting grass with a spoon. When he came to the -places where the old grass was matted under the new, he had to comb it out -with his fingers and hold it up, like a Bluebeard holding the hair of an -inquisitive wife's head, and hack at it. His knuckles wore raw, stained -with earth and grass, from rubbing as he slashed at the grass. -</p> -<p> -The result of his sickle work gave Miss Susan little satisfaction. The -yard looked worse where Lem had cut it than it had looked originally. It -had a jagged, uncouth appearance, like some yellow furred animal that had -shed in rough, irregular patches. Miss Susan told him he would have to go -over it again as soon as he had finished. -</p> -<p> -To his misery was added the knowledge that it <i>was</i> a -shocking-looking job. His acquaintance with sickles was so slight that he -did not know the instrument of his torture was outrageously dull. He -foresaw a life of unending grass chopping, with a complaining Aunt Susan -always at hand to give him another job as soon as she had scolded him for -doing the last in a sloppy manner. -</p> -<p> -Lem, handed into pawn like a chattel by his father, was miserable and he -did not think of letting his countenance hide his misery. He was so -thoroughly boy that when he felt miserable he showed it, and Miss Susan -believed that Lem disliked her, and Lem had no reason to doubt that she -disliked him or that she was intentionally “being as mean as an old cat” - to him. -</p> -<p> -In addition to the worry caused Henrietta by the dangerous and annoying -attentions of Johnnie Alberson, who believed in making hay while the sun -shone, both Carter Bruce and Freeman were giving Lem's only able friend so -much trouble that she had little time to help Lem with sympathy or -otherwise. -</p> -<p> -Johnnie seemed inclined to take advantage of his knowledge of Henrietta's -supposed maternal relation to Freeman, as well as of his power over her -because of Freeman's peculations. Henrietta was thoroughly frightened. -That Miss Susan objected was enough in itself to worry her, but she was -actually afraid of Johnnie's love-making because she was to some extent -really in his power. She did not know how far he might choose to press his -attentions and she did not have a free cent with which to lessen the -amount for which he was holding her responsible. -</p> -<p> -Johnnie himself was probably having one of the gladdest times of his life. -Being a Riverbank Alberson he had his full share of conceit, and thought -well of himself at all times except when his withered, dictatorial, and -aged mother was treating him as if he were a five-year-old boy. She -treated him thus whenever she saw him, no matter where, and she was such a -thorough tyrant and so hearty in her tyranny that Johnnie was meek and -lowly before her. It was said she swore at him like a pirate when he -asserted himself in any way whatever. -</p> -<p> -When he was away from his mother, the plump, immaculately dressed -pharmacist rebounded to the extremes of self-adoration. He thought he was -the finest flower of Riverbank's gallantry and that the only reason all -females did not fall in worshipful attitudes at his feet was because an -Alberson was so awesome that their very worship would not permit them to -take even that liberty. -</p> -<p> -During the days when he was thus annoying Henrietta, he believed himself -to be the admiration of every one at Miss Susan's, instead of which he -came near being, in nearly all eyes, a most ridiculous figure. To Miss -Susan, who knew the truth about Henrietta and her husband, he was a matter -of sorrow; it was painful for her to see an Alberson preening his feathers -and strutting peacock-like around Henrietta while Freeman Todder, her -husband, observed it all, and laughed up his sleeve at an Alberson. -</p> -<p> -Gay and Lorna alone were pleased. As they had no reason to know that -Henrietta was married, and as they believed—and rightly—that -her Billy Vane was a myth, they hoped Johnnie was in love with their -friend and might marry her. -</p> -<p> -To Henrietta he was nothing but a danger and a menace, doubly annoying -because of her other annoyance. Carter Bruce was pressing her for more -information regarding the wife of Freeman Todder. -</p> -<p> -“I 've got to have it,” he told her. -</p> -<p> -“You shouldn't have said anything to him about it,” she told him. “It was -a secret. I told you in confidence.” - </p> -<p> -Carter did not see it in that light. He was inclined to argue. -</p> -<p> -“I kept your secret,” he said. “How could he know how I learned? I don't -mean to let him know, either, but you <i>must</i> give me some hint how I -can get the information in some other way. Give me the name of the town -where his wife is.” - </p> -<p> -“I can't do that.” - </p> -<p> -“Why not?” - </p> -<p> -“I can't.” - </p> -<p> -“You mean you won't?” - </p> -<p> -“Very well, Carter, I won't. It is absolutely impossible. I told you to -look out for Gay—to make strong love to her—not to go -blundering like a bull in a china shop.” - </p> -<p> -Henrietta had this every day. Freeman was even worse. He accused her of -having told Bruce some lie, of course, but the worst was his insistent -demand for money. He must have money. There must be some way in which she -could get it, he said. -</p> -<p> -“There's not,” she told him. “How can I get it?” - </p> -<p> -Freeman did not know, but he knew he had to have money. He was as ugly -about it as possible, worse than he had ever been. -</p> -<p> -“You get me some money,” he said brutally. “That's all I want from you—some -money.” - </p> -<p> -“Freeman, I can't get any. If I could get it I would not give it to you. -Presently we will have to leave this house, and wherever we go next we -have to pay in advance. And I must give something to Johnnie Alberson. I'm -afraid of him. I <i>must</i> pay him something. I don't like the way he -acts.” - </p> -<p> -“Let him act,” said Freeman scornfully. -</p> -<p> -All in all Henrietta was in no state of mind to think of any troubles -except her own, and poor Lem was left to his own resources. Or to his one -resource. That one resource was his father, and his father, unfortunately, -was having his own troubles. He was having difficulty in preserving that -calmness of mind and subjugation of appetite necessary to carry on the -business of a successful saint. -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -CHAPTER XVII -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>gain and again Lem stole from his room at night by the window route and -made his way to his father's hermitage, to beg to be taken out of pawn. -These visits caused Saint Harvey of Riverbank the utmost irritation. -</p> -<p> -The good Saint Harvey, Little Brother to Stray Dogs, was doing his best to -live up to the task he had set himself. He was trying faithfully to -mortify the flesh and to live abstemiously (on bread and water), to do -without his pipe, to think high thoughts, and to be gentle and kind to all -living creatures, particularly to stray dogs. -</p> -<p> -He had a double reason for trying. The news that he was in business as a -saint had gone around town—for he could not keep from bragging about -it—and old friends and perfect strangers dropped into the junkyard -to inquire how he was progressing and to learn from his own lips how a man -went about being a saint and how he liked the job. -</p> -<p> -The worst, of course, was living on bread and water alone. Every atom of -his huge body seemed to cry for ham and eggs every minute, and his stomach -simply yelled for ham and eggs. And that made him irritable, of course, -and made it more difficult to keep from dod-basting everybody, and -everything. And it made him long for his pipe, which would have been the -solace that every man knows tobacco is. And then the questioners would -come: -</p> -<p> -“An' say, Harvey, they say you don't eat nothin' but bread an' water. Is -that so?” - </p> -<p> -“That's all. Nothin' but. It's got to be that way. Mortify the flesh, -that's the idee. High thinkin' an' plain livin'. Why, there would n't be -no merit in <i>bein''</i> a saint if I was to go on eatin' an' drinkin' an' -smokin' an' cussin' around same as everybody does an' like I used to. -Bread an' water; that's the idee of it.” - </p> -<p> -“Gosh! it must be hard on a man!” - </p> -<p> -“Well, yes! Yes, right at first it is. I don't say it ain't, right at -first. It irked me some right at first, but I'm gettin' used to it.” - </p> -<p> -“An' don't it no more?” - </p> -<p> -“Not a mite. Mind conquers the flesh, as you may say. Want to come back -an' see the stray dogs I'm takin' care of? That's my speciality—stray -dogs. It's just that I love 'em an' they love me, like I was a brother to -'em. That does the business.” - </p> -<p> -He would lead the way to where three canines were chained in the junkyard. -</p> -<p> -But at night, when he was supposed to be sound asleep, and his blinds were -closed, he would begin to think of food—rich, solid ham and eggs -cooked in bacon fat—and he would fight with himself, and groan and -roll to and fro in his bed. -</p> -<p> -“Dod-bas—no, not dod-baste; I'll take that back, it ain't saintly,” - he would mutter; “but I'm hungry. I did n't know a man could <i>git</i> so -hungry.” - </p> -<p> -Then he would get up and walk the floor. -</p> -<p> -It was wonderful that he stood it. A new spirit of resolution seemed to -have entered into him. The interest that was shown in his new life by his -friends and by strangers certainly was one cause of his tenacity, but even -so he might have given up—as he had given up all his previous labors—had -the <i>Riverbank Eagle</i> not written him up. The article was intended to -be satirical, but satire is a serious matter for unpracticed hands to -meddle with, and the article that appeared in the <i>Eagle</i>—headed -“Riverbank Has a Hermit”—was so very delicately satirical that it -did not appear to be satirical at all. Riverbank accepted it as sincere, -and so did Saint Harvey, and so did papers all over the land. In a day -Saint Harvey found himself not only a recognized hermit, but a famous one. -The “Brother of Stray Dogs” was a national character, but he wished he was -n't. He was a national celebrity, but a hungry one. Nobody knew how hungry -he was. He was the hungriest man in the United States. He was just plumb, -downright, miserably hungry for ham and eggs. -</p> -<p> -It was late at night, when this hunger was greatest, that Lem would come, -pushing open the door, standing on the sill, and saying: “Pop, I want you -to lemme come home.” - </p> -<p> -“Say! Are you here again? Did n't I tell you to keep away? You git out o' -here an' go right back to your aunt.” - </p> -<p> -“Aw, pop! Lemme stay here, won't you, please?” - </p> -<p> -“No, I won't. I can't have you around here, Lem. The place where a man is -tryin' to be a saint ain't no place for a hearty, growin' boy. I got to -practically do without food. I got to fast, an' live on bread an' water—” - </p> -<p> -“Aw, lemme come. I don't want much to eat. Just maybe some ham an' eggs—” - </p> -<p> -“Now, hush up! You shut your noise! Don't you come talkin' about—about -nothin' to eat. You come around here talkin' about ham an'—about -things to eat, an' botherin' me, an' I won't have it. How can I get my -mind quieted down to bread an' water when you're comin' here all the time? -It's just food, food, food, an' tempt, tempt, tempt, all the time. I'm -havin' a hard enough time as it is, dod—I mean—” - </p> -<p> -“Why don't you quit it, then? I don't see what you want to be a plaguey -old saint for, anyway. I don't see where you 're goin' to make any money -at it.” - </p> -<p> -“There now! Money! That just shows you oughtn't to be around here, Lem. -You don't understand the first principles of a saint. A saint ain't in the -saint business for the money it gets him.” - </p> -<p> -“What is he one for, then, I'd like to know? What's it good for, anyway?” - </p> -<p> -“Why, dod-baste—no, I take that back, Lem. I mean anybody ought to -know what a saint is for. He's—well, he's just a saint. There don't -have to be no reason for a saint. He just stays around where he is, an' -is. Folks come an' look at him an' wonder how he does it. He's a credit to -the town, dod—I mean, he's a credit to the town. He gets wrote up in -the papers. They make monuments of him when he's dead, an' put his picture -in a book.” - </p> -<p> -“Well, I don't think it's sense, I'd rather not be dead an' have -monuments, if I had to go an' have nothin' but bread an' water. I'd rather -be alive an' have ham an' eggs—” - </p> -<p> -“Now, you stop that! You're talkin' about ham an' eggs just to pester me, -an' I won't have it! You get away from here!” - </p> -<p> -Always it ended in Lem coaxing again to be taken out of pawn. He would sit -in the shanty snivelling, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand after -he had run out of words, but always his father sent him away again, back -to Miss Susan. He ordered him out of the shanty sternly enough, but after -Lem had closed the door, going out into the night reluctantly, Saint -Harvey could not forget him. He worked off his irritation by whanging his -pillow around the room, kicking it when it fell to the floor, until he was -nearly exhausted, and then he would settle himself in his bed and, -grumbling at first, read—his dime novels! -</p> -<p> -The truth was that, much as he scolded about them, he welcomed the -nocturnal visits of the boy, even if they did irritate him (or because -they did), and during the long, saintly days when he sat in his hickory -rocker reading his “Lives of the Saints,” he became hungrily homesick for -Lem. He missed him. -</p> -<p> -Now and then, too, Saint Harvey had a qualm. Now and then the thought came -to him that he was being a saint because there was no heavy work connected -with the job, and he had occasionally a guilty feeling that he had put Lem -in pawn to be rid of him. He was not very happy. When he thought such -thoughts he had second thoughts—that he was thinking such anti-saint -thoughts because he was finding the saint business harder than the junk -business. -</p> -<p> -He did not relish a form of martyrdom that came with his saintship, -either. It took the form of small boys, who love to annoy saints, hermits, -and other odd characters. They began throwing clods at him from a safe -distance, chanting in chorus: -</p> -<pre xml:space="preserve"> -“Holy saint! Holy saint! -Wishes he was, but knows he ain't!” - </pre> -<p> -Saint Harvey was learning that saints are not canonized for nothing. They -thoroughly earn their places in the estimation of their admiration. -</p> -<p> -Lem, after an unusually hard day with Miss Susan, came one night to the -hermitage of Saint Harvey with his usual plea to be taken back. -</p> -<p> -“No, Lem,” his father said patiently, “I ain't going to take you. I can't, -Lem. I got to stick at this saint job now. And I can't, anyhow. I ain't -got the money to pay your aunt, and you've got to stay until—” - </p> -<p> -From his pocket Lem drew something thick and square, wrapped in paper. He -was sitting where he always sat, and he cast a glance out of the comers of -his eyes at his father as he slowly unwrapped the paper. -</p> -<p> -“Aw! please let me come back!” he begged, and dropped the paper on the -floor. -</p> -<p> -Saint Harvey of Riverbank licked his lips and drew a deep, covetous -breath. In his hand Lem held a thick, moist ham sandwich. He lifted one -lid and straightened the ham with his finger—thick, moist ham with a -strip of luscious white fat that hung tremulously over the edge of the -bread. -</p> -<p> -“Aw! please, pa! Let me come back,” Lem begged, and set his teeth into the -sandwich. -</p> -<p> -Saint Harvey licked his puffy lips again and heaved a second deep sigh. -</p> -<p> -The great ham sandwich barrage against the encroaching sainthood of Saint -Harvey of River-bank had begun. -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -CHAPTER XVIII -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>aint Harvey of Riverbank was not having a care-free sainthood those days. -Lem came every night, sitting in the same place, pleading with his father -to stop being a saint, and eating a luscious ham sandwich before his eyes. -The young rascal knew what he was doing. He found a way of turning the ham -slowly on the bread—so his father saw it in all its beauty—that -made Saint Harvey turn red in the face and swallow hard and lick his lips -greedily. There was a way in which Lem licked a forefinger after getting -it moist with ham grease that was agony to Saint Harvey. And all the while -Lem talked. -</p> -<p> -“Don't your aunt treat you nice?” his father would ask. -</p> -<p> -“No, she don't,” Lem would say. “She's mean to me. She makes me wash the -dishes, she does. An' she's got millions of dishes. She don't care how -many dishes she has. She goes an' cooks an' cooks, an' has pie an' puddin' -an' roast beef an' asparagus an'—” - </p> -<p> -“How does she have the asparagus, Lem?” - </p> -<p> -“Well, she has it in stalks—big, white stalks—with a kind of -sauce on it. It's good. It's mighty good. An' she has ham an' eggs an' -beefsteak an' sausage an' pancakes for breakfast. With maple syrup.” - </p> -<p> -“Ham an' eggs <i>an''</i> beefsteak an' sausage?” - </p> -<p> -“Yes.” - </p> -<p> -Saint Harvey would emit a long, tremulous sigh and close his eyes. -Sometimes when Lem told of a Sunday dinner Saint Harvey would turn quite -pale, and groan. Then he would get up and walk back and forth, gasping and -swallowing and working his jaws and licking his lips. -</p> -<p> -“I don't want all this sandwich. You can have it,” Lem would say -sometimes. “You ought to be hungry; nothin' but bread an'—” - </p> -<p> -“You get out o' here! You scoot out o' here!” his father would cry, -reaching for something to use as a club, and then Lem would go. -</p> -<p> -Nor was Lem the only trial the good saint had. The Russian Jew, Moses -Shuder, would not leave him alone, and no one could anger good Saint -Harvey as Shuder could. His very meekness angered Saint Harvey. -</p> -<p> -Moses Shuder would come to the junkyard, meek and apologetic, dry-washing -his hands against his chest, with his crushed hat on his head—the -hat itself a reminder of Saint Harvey's anger—and plead with Harvey -to sell him or lease him the junkyard. -</p> -<p> -“Please, Misder Redink, I vant only to talk to you. Please, you should not -get a mad at me— -</p> -<p> -“Why, dod—why, blame take—” Saint Harvey would begin -furiously, only to remember himself in time, and force himself to -calmness. “You go 'way from here! I don't want to talk to you! I don't -want to sell! I don't want to lease—” - </p> -<p> -“But, please, Misder Redink—” - </p> -<p> -The meekly appealing eyes of his late rival made Harvey furious, inwardly. -He longed to be able to cast aside all restraint and to dod-baste Moses -Shuder with all his heart and all his soul. Moses Shuder was worse than a -hair shirt or peas in his shoes. -</p> -<p> -It was the meekness of Shuder, coming back so cringingly, day after day, -that drove Saint Harvey to the edge of terrible outbursts of unsaintly -temper. And Moses Shuder's eyes, which were like the meekly appealing eyes -of Saint Harvey's stray dogs, reminded him of them. -</p> -<p> -For the stray dogs were another thorn in the good saint's flesh. He was -having a sad time being a Little Brother to Stray Dogs. Stray dogs did not -like him. They hated him. Whenever they saw him, they looked up at him -with meekly appealing eyes like Moses Shuder's and then bit him on the -leg. -</p> -<p> -Perhaps this was because before Saint Harvey became a saint he had hated -stray dogs and thrown things at them, and the dogs recognized him as an -ancient dog-hater. However that may be, they now greeted him, when he -approached them, with a look that pleaded not to be given a beating, and -then, as he approached, showed their fangs, growled and raised the hair -along their spines, and jumped at his legs. He wished he had been -advertised as a Little Brother to Stray Rabbits instead of to dogs. -</p> -<p> -Saint Harvey missed his smoking tobacco, too. He missed it tremendously, -and temptation was always being forced upon him. You know how Americans -are. We are not well used to saints and hermits, and when we have one we -are proud of him and grateful to him, and we try to show that we are. We -go to him and offer him a good cigar. People who would never have thought -of offering Harvey Redding even a two-for-five cigar went out of their way -to buy ten-cent cigars to offer to Saint Harvey of Riverbank. Sometimes -they offered him two two-for-twenty-five cigars at one offering! And when -he refused they seated themselves beside him and lighted one of the cigars -and let the delicious aroma of the burning leaf float across his nostrils. -Great Scott! Have you ever stopped smoking and had one of these fellows -come around and let the delicious aroma of a really good cigar float -across your nostrils? -</p> -<p> -I have seen pictures of Saint Anthony being tempted, and I will admit he -was subjected to some considerable temptations, and withstood them, but he -had never been a tobacco smoker. If he had been, and had given it up, and -had then been tempted as Saint Harvey was tempted, he would have stood -firm, I have no doubt, but he would have been quite considerably -irritated. Giving up tobacco after long using it has that effect on the -nerves. It had that effect on Saint Harvey's nerves. -</p> -<p> -Along about that time Saint Harvey of Riverbank was the most easily -irritated saint that ever lived, bar none. -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -CHAPTER XIX -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he term of school drew to an end and July began, hot and with no sign of -a refreshing rain for weeks to come. In his junkyard Saint Harvey sat and -panted and fanned himself with a palm-leaf fan and felt miserable. He felt -especially miserable in the region of his belt and just above and below -it, for he had a huge pitcher of water always at his elbow and drank -copiously, and he had a sensation of being merely a large globe full of -water that swished to and fro as he moved. -</p> -<p> -He was seriously alarmed by this imagined condition. His continued -existence seemed exceedingly precarious. It was not as if he had been -eating good, solid food—ham and eggs, for example. When he drank -another glass of water, it did not seem to go anywhere in particular; it -seemed to flow down into an already vast ocean of water. When he thumped -himself he was sure he heard waves splashing around inside of him, and he -thought he knew what would happen if he was wounded deeply in any way: -there would be a sort of Niagara for a minute or two, and then there would -be left only a deflated, extinct Saint Harvey. -</p> -<p> -It was to this worried Saint Harvey that Moses Shuder came on the third of -July, appealingly offering him fifty dollars for his remaining junk and -one hundred dollars for a year's lease of the junkyard and shanty. -</p> -<p> -For several nights Lem's sandwich barrage had been especially trying to -Saint Harvey. -</p> -<p> -“Cash money?” he asked Moses Shuder. -</p> -<p> -“Sure, cash money! I got it in my pocket the cash money. I could show it -to you.” - </p> -<p> -He did. Saint Harvey looked at the crisp, new bills and at the pitcher of -water at his elbow and at the lump of bread beside the pitcher. It was the -hour for his frugal midday meal. From somewhere came the odor of ham -frying. -</p> -<p> -“Please, Misder Redink!” urged Moses Shuder meekly, and from his pocket he -took—with exquisite care—a large, costly-looking cigar. -</p> -<p> -Saint Harvey reached for the cigar. -</p> -<p> -“I 'll go you, dod-baste the dod-basted luck!” he exclaimed, and with the -other hand he reached for the money. -</p> -<p> -From the shed at the rear of the yard came the sharp, angry yelps of two -of Saint Harvey's stray dogs beginning hostilities. Saint Harvey eased -himself carefully out of his chair. -</p> -<p> -“You wait,” he said to Shuder. -</p> -<p> -Three minutes later three stray dogs, their tails trailing their legs, -their eyes looking backward, dashed through the gate of the junkyard and -down the street. Three pieces of old iron hurtled through the air after -them. -</p> -<p> -“There!” puffed the Little Brother to Stray Dogs; “that's what I think of -you, you worthless curs!”—and then he added, “Dod-baste you!” - </p> -<p> -The next morning, which was the morning of the anniversary of the day of -our glorious independence, Lem, finishing the task of the breakfast -dishes, had the final and crowning indignity thrust upon him. He was sore, -anyway, because Miss Sue had forbidden firecrackers and other -noise-makers, and now she told him to go upstairs and make his own bed. -</p> -<p> -“You're old enough, and you know enough, to make it,” she said, “and if -you ain't it's time you was.” - </p> -<p> -“I won't! I won't do that! Boys don't make beds. That's girls' work.” - </p> -<p> -“Lem!” - </p> -<p> -“Well—well, I don't see why—well, I'm goin' to, ain't I? You -don't have to be in such a hurry about it, do you?” - </p> -<p> -“Lem!” - </p> -<p> -“All right, I'm goin'. But all right for you!” On his way up the stairs he -passed Henrietta coming down, and she touched him lightly on the shoulder -in sign of her good-will. She was going down to meet Carter Bruce, who had -insisted that she see him that morning. She found him awaiting her on the -porch, in a mood not exactly pleasant. -</p> -<p> -“I've got to have something definite,” he said, when he had told her why -he had come. “This can't go on a day longer.” - </p> -<p> -“I'm glad,” said Henrietta. -</p> -<p> -“Glad about what? Glad Gay is so thoroughly infatuated with that sneak—with -Freeman?” - </p> -<p> -“No, glad you know now that you do love Gay,” said Henrietta. “That was -what I hoped for, Carter: that you would discover it. For you do love her. -And, if you do, I need not worry. Gay will not prefer Freeman to you; not -if you are bold, as a lover should be.” - </p> -<p> -“She does, though,” said Carter. “I don't care what he is, he has a way -with women.” - </p> -<p> -“Why don't you have a way with them, then, if that is what is needed?” - </p> -<p> -“Because I have n't it, that's all! I'm slow. Henrietta, she likes him -best. She likes me, but I have no chance with him around. He has to go. -You've got to give me facts. Where is this wife of his? How can I prove he -has a wife? You owe it to me, and to Gay, and to the wife, to tell me.” - </p> -<p> -“It is enough that I say so. You can tell him I told you.” - </p> -<p> -Carter Bruce hesitated. -</p> -<p> -“I'm sorry,” he said, “but that is n't enough. I—” - </p> -<p> -Henrietta looked at him steadily for a moment and then let her eyes fall. -</p> -<p> -“I know what you mean,” she said. “You mean you can't trust my words. You -mean I am a liar.” - </p> -<p> -“I have to be frank,” Carter said. “Gay has told me about William Vane. -She does not believe there is a William Vane. When I told her—” - </p> -<p> -“You told her I had said Freeman has a wife?” asked Henrietta. “And you -promised not to tell, Carter!” - </p> -<p> -“I told her.” - </p> -<p> -“Well?” - </p> -<p> -“She said, 'Perhaps Henrietta is romancing again.'” - </p> -<p> -Across the street Gay came out upon her porch. She waved a hand, and -Henrietta returned the salutation, but the next moment she guessed it had -not been meant for her, for Freeman came around the house, waving to Gay -as he came. Henrietta put her hand on Carter's arm. -</p> -<p> -“No, I can't tell you more,” she said breathlessly. “I'm sorry—only -it is true he has a wife. It is true, Carter.” - </p> -<p> -Carter's eyes hardened. He walked down the steps of the porch and toward -Freeman, until he faced him. -</p> -<p> -“You are a sneak and a cur and a cad,” he said, “and I am going to give -you this every time I see you.” - </p> -<p> -He shot out his fist and it struck Freeman on his cheek, throwing him to -the ground. An instant he lay there and then he was on his feet and, mad -with rage, had leaped for Carter. Henrietta screamed. From across the -street Gay came, her palms pressed to her cheeks. The fight was all over -before she reached the two men. Bruce stood arranging his tie, but Freeman -lay where the last blow had sent him, prone on the grass. -</p> -<p> -Carter laughed, pantingly. -</p> -<p> -“Every time I meet you, remember,” he said, and turned to Gay. -</p> -<p> -“I thrashed him,” he said, but Gay dropped to her knees beside the -prostrate man. -</p> -<p> -“Freeman! Freeman!” she cried; and then to Carter, “You brute! You cruel -brute!” - </p> -<p> -“Oh, just as you wish!” said Carter Bruce, and laughed again, and went -across the yard to the steps and out of the gate. -</p> -<p> -“Get up!” Henrietta said, coldly, to Freeman. -</p> -<p> -“Oh! how can you be so cruel!” Gay cried, but Henrietta did not change her -tone. -</p> -<p> -“Get up!” she repeated. “Get up and go into the house.” - </p> -<p> -“How can you speak to him like that!” cried Gay, and she helped Freeman to -arise. -</p> -<p> -He was rather badly battered, and tried to hide the side of his face where -the worst blows had fallen. He laughed thinly. -</p> -<p> -“He's bigger than I am,” he said. “He hit me before I expected it.” - </p> -<p> -“He's a brute!” said Gay again. -</p> -<p> -“Go in the house!” Henrietta ordered; and without more ado Freeman picked -up his hat and went into the house. Henrietta followed him. -</p> -<p> -For a minute more Gay stood where she was, and then she went homeward. -</p> -<p> -“The brute! The big bully! I'll never speak to Carter Bruce again as long -as I live. Never!” - </p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -CHAPTER XX -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">N</span>ow, don't you go an' let on to your Aunt Sue, Lem,” Harvey told the boy -that night when Lem came begging to be taken back. “You just keep your -mouth shut, an' in a week or so you come to Burlin'ton an' hunt me up. You -won't have no trouble findin' where the post-office in Burlin'ton is, an' -when you git there you go to the window, an' ask if there's a letter for -Lemuel Redding. It'll tell you where to find me, an' then you come to -where it says.” - </p> -<p> -“I'd ruther go with you,” Lem said wistfully. “I ain't ever been on a -train. I don't know how to do on a train.” - </p> -<p> -“You don't need to do nohow. You buy a ticket an' you git on the train an' -sit down in a seat. That's all you do. When the conductor comes around, -you hand him your ticket an' let him punch a hole in it, an' when you git -to Burlin'ton you ask where the post-office is. That's all there is to -it.” - </p> -<p> -“Why can't I go with you, pop? I'm sort o' scared of it.” - </p> -<p> -“I can't take no chances, Lem. If we was to go together, man an' boy, your -aunt would sure think I took you an' she would n't rest until she fetched -us back. She's got to think you've runned away. On your own hook. I got to -keep clear of you awhile. If she got a notion I'd stole you out o' pawn -she'd raise the dod-basted dickens against me. She'd make me hand over -every red cent I've got, an' I need it to start the new business I aim to -go into once I get away from here.” - </p> -<p> -He took a fat roll of bills from his pocket. “I'm goin' to give you -twenty-five dollars, Lem,” he said solemnly. “That's more'n enough to see -you through easy. Don't you lose it. An' don't you ever let on I give it -to you.” - </p> -<p> -“I won't,” Lem promised. -</p> -<p> -Harvey had planned carefully. He meant to depart the next night, and the -next day he trudged up the hill and paid Miss Sue twenty-five dollars on -account of his debt. That might quiet her for a while in case she learned -of his departure too soon. -</p> -<p> -Miss Sue took the money, and the severe expression she had worn when -Harvey appeared softened. -</p> -<p> -“Well, I will say, Harvey, you've done better at keeping your word than I -ever thought you would. Bein' a saint has n't hurt you any—I 'll say -that. I'll mark this down on the back of your note, and keep good track of -it, and I only hope you keep on the same way.” - </p> -<p> -“So do I,” said Harvey. “How's Lem carryin' on?” - </p> -<p> -“He's a trial,” Miss Susan said, “but I'll bear him.” - </p> -<p> -“You don't want I should take him away?” - </p> -<p> -“Harvey Redding, that boy stays until you get me paid the last cent you -owe me. A bargain is a bargain.” - </p> -<p> -Harvey sighed. -</p> -<p> -“Well—” he said, and went away. -</p> -<p> -That night he departed from Riverbank and Miss Sue put the saint's five -crisp bills in her purse. -</p> -<p> -A week later, Miss Susan, going to her room to retire after a hard day, -picked up her purse. It was lying on her bureau. Lorna had just paid a -week's board and Miss Sue took the money from her pocket and opened the -purse. Her eyes saw at once that the purse was empty, the five crisp -five-dollar bills Lem's father had given her were gone. -</p> -<p> -For a moment or two she stood, her hand laid along her cheek, thinking. -No, she had not taken the money from the purse. She could remember putting -it there, but not taking it out again. She opened her door and walked -toward Lem's room. -</p> -<p> -At Lem's door she paused, for she heard the boy moving about. She opened -the door suddenly. -</p> -<p> -Lem stood, as he had stood on that other night, fully dressed and his -ragged straw hat on his head. In his hand was a handkerchief, tied -together by the four corners and bulging with the food he had purloined to -sustain him on his journey. As the door opened he leaped for the window, -but Miss Susan overtook him and dragged him back into the room. He kicked -and struck at her, but she held fast. Lorna and Henrietta came to the -door, and a minute later Johnnie Alberson also came, all fully clad, for -these pleasant nights all sat late. Freeman did not appear; he was with -Gay, across the street, on her porch. -</p> -<p> -“You hold the little rat!” Susan cried, and Johnnie grasped the boy from -behind. Miss Susan's hands felt the boy's pockets. Unlike that other time -Lem did not struggle now. -</p> -<p> -“You leave me alone!” he kept repeating. “You better leave me alone!” - </p> -<p> -Not until Miss Susan took the five crisp bills from his pocket did he -begin to cry. -</p> -<p> -“Don't you take that; that's my money, you old thief, you!” he sobbed -helplessly. “You stole my dollar, and you want to steal everything, you -old thief!” - </p> -<p> -“Quiet, Lem!” Henrietta said, but this time the boy paid no heed. If she -meant to suggest that he “go stiff” again, the hint was lost. All the -fight, all hope, all belief that anything would ever be right again in his -unhappy life seemed to have deserted the boy. It was Johnnie Alberson who -tried to comfort him. -</p> -<p> -“Oh, here! Come now!” he said, still holding fast to Lem, however. “Don't -cry. That's not how big boys do. What's the trouble all about, anyway?” - </p> -<p> -“He stole from me,” said Miss Susan, holding up the money. -</p> -<p> -“I didn't! She's an old liar!” sobbed Lem, “and I don't care if I do say -it! She wants to steal all my money all the time—” - </p> -<p> -“Look at him,” said Miss Susan. “All packed up and ready to run away! And -my money in his pocket! This time there'll be no nonsense, I tell you. -He'll go packing off to reform school, where he belongs.” - </p> -<p> -“That's all right,” said Johnnie soothingly. “We'll see about that in the -morning. The reform schools won't all close to-night. I'll go bail for Lem -to-night; I 'll take him into my room. If he gets away, Miss Susan, you -can send me to reform school in his place.” - </p> -<p> -There seemed nothing better to do and Johnnie led the boy away. -</p> -<p> -“Good-night, Miss Bates,” Johnnie called to Henrietta, for the affair had -interrupted their tête-à -tête on the porch. “I've got to keep this young -man company.” - </p> -<p> -Henrietta went down. She sat in her dark corner of the porch, staring -across the street at the porch where Gay and Freeman, she knew, were -sitting, and waited for Freeman. -</p> -<p> -Henrietta and Freeman had had one heated interview that night. About ten -o'clock, when Henrietta was still in her room, Freeman had thrown his -cigarette end from the porch and had entered the house. Miss Susan was at -work in the kitchen, where he heard her, and he went up the stairs softly. -While smoking his cigarette on the porch, he had come to a decision. -</p> -<p> -It was clear to him that he could not long remain in Riverbank with Carter -Bruce on his trail and ready to beat him up whenever they met. Just what -Carter Bruce knew he could not guess with any certainty, but he had enough -respect for the young lawyer's fists and enough dread of his own past to -believe that if Bruce kept on, his whole situation at Riverbank would be -as unpleasant as possible, and, being so hard put to it to raise any money -whatever, he saw no satisfactory reason why he should remain in the town. -He went up the stairs with a coldly formed and complete intention to see -whether Miss Susan had left any money in her room. If she had left any -there, he meant to take it and get away from Riverbank as quickly and as -thoroughly as possible, and he meant to take Gay with him if she would go. -</p> -<p> -Freeman Todder was in Miss Susan's room and had already taken the money -from her purse when Henrietta opened the door. Freeman turned to look at -her. -</p> -<p> -“What are you doing here, Freeman?” Henrietta asked. -</p> -<p> -Her husband waved his hand carelessly. -</p> -<p> -“Tapping the till, dearest,” he said. “Breaking the bank. Getting the -cash.” - </p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> </a> -</p> -<div class="fig" style="width:80%;"> -<img src="images/228.jpg" alt="228" width="100%" /><br /> -</div> -<p> -Henrietta advanced into the room. She spoke calmly enough. -</p> -<p> -“Now, this I will not have!” she said. “You may be a thief and a rascal, -but you must not play your tricks in this house. If you have taken -anything, put it back. Freeman, did you take any money?” - </p> -<p> -“This,” he said defiantly, and he held up the fold of crisp bills, -slipping it into his pocket again, but as he moved he looked past -Henrietta and saw Lem, surprised and wide-eyed, standing in the doorway. -Lem had come to the room to get his “other” shirt, preparatory to his -departure. -</p> -<p> -“I found it,” said Freeman slowly. “Finders is keepers, you know, dear.” - He let his eyes glare into Lem's. “And you know what I am when I am angry, -Henrietta. Any one who tells on me I'll kill. I'm desperate, you see. I'll -murder any one who tells on me.” - </p> -<p> -Lem slid back into the darkness of the hall and fled to his room. Nothing -in this house brought him anything but trouble, and he only wanted to get -away as soon as he could. -</p> -<p> -“That is nonsense,” Henrietta told Freeman. “You will never kill any one. -You are too great a coward. Now, put that money back and get out of here -before some one comes.” - </p> -<p> -For answer Freeman pushed past her. -</p> -<p> -“I 'll put nothing back,” he said. “I need this. You don't get any for me; -I've got to get for myself.” - </p> -<p> -“Freeman!” - </p> -<p> -He had gone into the hall. She followed him, and he could not throw her -hand from his arm without causing a struggle and a noise that he did not -at all desire. His wife drew him into her room. -</p> -<p> -“All right, go on with the lecture,” he said, with a laugh, “but make it -short. It won't do any good. I'm going to keep this money, and I 'm going -to get away from here to-night. I 'm going so far you'll never see me -again.” - </p> -<p> -Henrietta sat on the bedside and, with her eyes on his face, let her mind -touch upon the possibilities. If Freeman went, and went forever, her lot -in life would be far simpler, far easier! But, if he fled, and the money -was gone, Miss Susan would know he had taken it, and she already knew he -was Henrietta's husband. That would besmirch Henrietta even worse than she -was now. It would be the last straw. And even if Freeman went, it would -not mean perfect freedom for her, for he would always remain a menace, -always liable to appear again to work his husbandly blackmail and make -trouble for her. She felt unutterably depressed. -</p> -<p> -“You must put the money back now—at once,” she said wearily, “before -any one knows it is gone.” - </p> -<p> -“Too late now, Et,” he said. “Somebody knows. The only thing for your -little Freeman-boy to do is to skip out while the skipping is good. That -Lem saw me.” - </p> -<p> -“Lem?” - </p> -<p> -“Yes. He was at the door while your back was turned. He saw, and heard, -too. So there you are! Nothing left but to clear out.” - </p> -<p> -Henrietta pleaded with him. -</p> -<p> -“But not this way, Freeman! Wait. Take the money back and to-morrow I'll -borrow some. I 'll coax it out of Lorna, or Gay. Or even Johnnie Alberson; -I believe I could get some out of him. Please, Freeman!” - </p> -<p> -“Et, you make me tired,” Freeman said. “I've got the cash and I'm going to -skip out before this night is over. That's flat, and if you don't like it, -you can lump it, and if you don't like it lumped, you can roll it out and -fry it. I'm sick of this and I'm going to vamoose. I'm going over to say -good-bye to Gay and then I'm going.” - </p> -<p> -“Freeman!” she cried, “I knew you were a despicable creature, but I never, -never, never thought you were quite as low as this!” - </p> -<p> -“Oh, cut the melodrama, Et!” he said, and while she sat looking at him -helplessly he went out of the room. -</p> -<p> -It was after this scene that she had to sit listening to Johnnie Alberson, -making conversation with him while her thoughts were on Freeman. -</p> -<p> -From where she sat she could see Gay's white dress as a spot against the -dark brick of the house across the way, and that spot she watched, all her -plans in chaos, knowing only that if the spot disappeared she must rush -across and keep Gay safe, no matter what else happened. When she returned -from Lem's room, she looked across with fear, and breathed her thanks, for -Gay was still there. -</p> -<p> -Almost immediately Freeman came across the street. He was not in a -pleasant mood. -</p> -<p> -“Freeman,” Henrietta said. -</p> -<p> -“My God! Again? What is it now?” he asked. -</p> -<p> -“What is it now? Throwing the blame for your thievery on that poor boy! -Hasn't he enough to bear without that? You are low—that is the only -name for it—low!” - </p> -<p> -“Fine! Fine and oratorical and everything, Et!” Freeman said carelessly. -“Only—I did not throw any blame on him. Not that I care, you know,” - he added. -</p> -<p> -“Freeman, don't lie to me. You put that money in his pocket.” - </p> -<p> -“Oh, no, I did n't!” Freeman laughed, and he held up Miss Susan's -bank-notes. “I need this money. And I have this money, and I am going to -keep this money.” - </p> -<p> -“I don't understand,” said Henrietta. “How did you get it again? Did you -take it from her a second time?” - </p> -<p> -“Oh, quit it!” Freeman said disgustedly. “Don't be stupid. This is not the -money Lem had. I've had this all the while. I don't know where the little -devil got his. What does it matter? Maybe she had two wads. What do I -care?” - </p> -<p> -“I care,” Henrietta said. -</p> -<p> -“I'm going to clear out,” Freeman said. “Last you'll ever see of me.” - </p> -<p> -He turned toward the door leading into the house. -</p> -<p> -“Freeman, what about Gay?” - </p> -<p> -“None of your dear business, Et,” he said. Henrietta heard him tiptoe -softly up the stairs. She sat a minute longer, thinking, and then went -into the house herself, and up the stairs. -</p> -<p> -There are times when heroic actions seem the only solution of great -difficulties, but, however much a heroic act might add to the glory of -this narrative, it was not Henrietta's fortune to rise to great heights -now. She paused at Freeman's door and listened, then opened his door. -</p> -<p> -Freeman sat on a chair at the end of his bed, in shirt and underwear, -changing his socks. On a chair close to Henrietta's hand lay his two pairs -of trousers—the one pair crumpled on the seat of the chair; the -other, newly pressed, laid carefully across the chair back. With a sweep -of her arm Henrietta gathered up both pairs of trousers, backed from the -room, and closed the door. -</p> -<p> -For a few moments, perhaps, Freeman did not realize the full extent of the -catastrophe, but in another moment he did. What locked doors, tears, and -pleadings cannot do, the loss of a man's trousers can do. In the dark -hall, before Freeman could reach his door, Henrietta disposed of her -gleanings. -</p> -<p> -“Et!” Freeman whispered: “Et! Bring those back!” - </p> -<p> -“Bring what?” she answered. -</p> -<p> -“My pants. Bring them back, and mighty quick.” - </p> -<p> -“I don't know what you are talking about,” she said. “You must be drunk. I -know nothing about your pants. Go to bed.” - </p> -<p> -From down the hall she heard the loud breathing of Johnnie Alberson—call -it a light snore if you choose. Henrietta hesitated. Ill-fitting as -Johnnie's short, wide trousers might be on slender-waisted Freeman, she -knew a man will wear any garments in a crisis, and that Freeman would not -be beneath stealing what he needed from the sleeper. Too, through her mind -flashed the thought, “If John is awake, Freeman will not dare to make a -loud fuss,” and she walked to Johnnie's door and rapped sharply upon it. -</p> -<p> -“We—well? Well?” came Johnnie's voice, slumber heavy. “What? What is -it?” - </p> -<p> -“It's Henrietta,” she answered. “I want Lem. I want Lem to come to me.” - </p> -<p> -She heard Lem whine, “You leave me alone, you!” and then the reassuring -voice of Johnnie, and the door opened a wide crack, and Lem, rubbing his -eyes, stepped out. Freeman's door closed. -</p> -<p> -“Come with me, Lem,” she said, and led the half-awakened boy to her room. -He staggered to her bed and threw himself upon it, asleep the moment he -touched it. -</p> -<p> -“Lem!” she called sharply, standing over him. -</p> -<p> -The boy opened his eyes slowly, looking up into her face. -</p> -<p> -“Hello!” he said. “I—I been asleep, I guess—” - </p> -<p> -“Yes. That does n't matter. You will be all right presently. I want you to -tell me the truth—the honest-to-God, cross-your-heart truth, Lem—about -that money. Where did you get it, Lem?” - </p> -<p> -“I ain't goin' to tell you,” the boy said. -</p> -<p> -Henrietta took his hand. She spoke kindly. “Yes; you must tell me, Lem,” - she urged. “Did you steal it?” - </p> -<p> -“No, I did n't steal it.” - </p> -<p> -“That's honest-to-God, cross-your-heart, Lem?” - </p> -<p> -“Yes. I did n't steal it an' anybody that says I did is an old liar, -that's what she is, an' I don't care who knows it. She's a mean, old liar—” - </p> -<p> -“Wait, Lem. Maybe nobody is a liar. Can I believe that you did n't steal -it? Can I bet my bottom dollar on that, Lem?” - </p> -<p> -“Yes; you bet you can bet your bottom dollar on it. You can bet your boots -on it. I don't steal—only old junk. I don't steal money—” - </p> -<p> -“No, I know you don't, Lem. But Miss Susan found the money in your pocket, -did n't she?” - </p> -<p> -“I don't care where she found it. I don't care what that old devil finds. -I 'll get even with her!” - </p> -<p> -“Did she find it in your pocket, Lem?” - </p> -<p> -“Yes. Only that old Alberson had to hold me. I bet if <i>he</i> had n't -held me—” - </p> -<p> -“Of course. And who put the money in your pocket, Lem?” - </p> -<p> -“None of your—I mean, I won't say.” - </p> -<p> -“Did <i>you?”</i> Henrietta urged. “Did you put it in?” - </p> -<p> -“I won't say.” - </p> -<p> -“But, listen to me, Lem. Somebody stole some of Miss Susan's money—” - </p> -<p> -“I know. <i>He</i> did it,” Lem said. “Freeman Todder did it.” - </p> -<p> -“But never mind that now. Miss Susan does n't know that. Did Freeman, -here, put the money in your pocket?” - </p> -<p> -“I won't say. I tell you I won't say. Nobody can get me to say.” - </p> -<p> -“Lem,” said Henrietta seriously, “you don't understand what all this -means. I'm trying to help you. If Miss Susan keeps on thinking you stole -her money she will send you away. She'll send you to jail and to reform -school and you'll be sad and unhappy all your life. I want you to be happy—” - </p> -<p> -“I 'll bust out of jail if she sends me, drat her old hide!” Lem declared. -</p> -<p> -“No; you can't. You'll be watched every minute. Boys never do break out of -jail, Lem. They just stay there and are <i>so</i> miserable. So what I -want to do is to help you now. So you need n't be sent away at all.” - </p> -<p> -“If she won't send me I'm goin'away, anyway,” Lem declared. “I won't stay -in any old house with such an old hyena pickin' on me all the time.” - </p> -<p> -“Miss Susan doesn't understand you, Lem, and you don't understand her. But -that does n't matter now. If you go away you must not go with the name of -a thief fastened on you—” The door opened and Freeman Todder came -into the room. -</p> -<p> -“Look here,” he said angrily, “I want my pants. I won't stand any -nonsense. You give them to me.” - </p> -<p> -“You're insane!” said Henrietta. “I know nothing about them.” - </p> -<p> -“Oh! that's it, is it?” he said. “All right!” - </p> -<p> -He began searching the room. -</p> -<p> -“Well, I ain't a thief, an' I don't care who says I am,” Lem was saying. -“I did n't take her old money. She took mine, an' she's an old thief, an' -I'll tell her so to her face. An' I'll make her give it back to me. I 'll -set the police on her.” - </p> -<p> -“Listen, Lem, won't you please try to help me? Won't you tell me where you -got that money?” - </p> -<p> -“No, I won't!” the boy declared stubbornly. “But I 'll tell her who stole -her money. I 'll tell her <i>he</i> stole it, an' when she searches him -she'll find it.” - </p> -<p> -“I 'll be hanged if she will, unless she finds my pants,” Freeman growled. -</p> -<p> -“If you won't help me, I can't help you, Lem,” said Henrietta. “Just to -tell on Mr. Todder will not help at all. Won't you just whisper to me -where you got the money?” - </p> -<p> -“No, I won't! I'd rather be killed first!” - </p> -<p> -Freeman was throwing articles of clothing from Henrietta's closet upon the -bedroom floor. She hardly glanced at him. -</p> -<p> -“Of course! I know where you got the money, Lem,” she said. “Your father -gave it to you. Is n't that so?” - </p> -<p> -She saw the startled look in the boy's eyes. -</p> -<p> -“I won't say, I tell you!” he declared. -</p> -<p> -“Then your father did give it to you?” - </p> -<p> -“I won't tell you!” - </p> -<p> -“And I can tell Miss Susan your father gave it to you?” - </p> -<p> -“No. He said—no; I won't tell you who gave it to me! I won't tell -you what he said!” - </p> -<p> -“What did your father say?” - </p> -<p> -“I won't tell you what he said! None of your old business what he said!” - </p> -<p> -“I see!” said Henrietta. “Your father is going away and he gave you the -money to follow him. Is that it?” - </p> -<p> -“I won't tell you!” - </p> -<p> -“You need n't tell me, Lem,” Henrietta said. “No more, at any rate. You -have told me all about it.” She turned to Freeman. “What you are hunting -is not here,” she said, “and you are only making yourself ridiculous. Go -back to your room. When I am ready I will give you what you are hunting, -but first, Freeman, you will have to tell Miss Susan who took her money.” - </p> -<p> -Freeman looked at his wife with hatred in his eyes. He opened his mouth to -speak, but thought better of it and went out and into his own room. The -moment her door was dosed, Henrietta took Miss Susan's money from her -waist and hid it carefully, where she felt sure it would be safe. -</p> -<p> -Poor Lem was already sound asleep and Henrietta removed her shoes and a -few of her outer garments, wrapped herself in her bathrobe, and in a -minute she too was asleep. -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -CHAPTER XXI -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>enrietta's first act on awakening was to look for Lem and, as she might -have expected, the boy was gone. Her next was to look at her watch. She -felt she must have slept until midday, so different was her physical and -mental condition than when she had thrown herself on the bed. For some -quite unaccountable reason she felt tremendously strong and buoyant. For a -few moments she could not grasp why she felt so, and then she suddenly -realized that her cheer of mind was due to the fact that Freeman, for the -only time in years, was not a threatening menace, but absolutely under her -control. Until she chose to permit him to be clad, he was her prisoner, -and as her prisoner, subject to her orders. -</p> -<p> -When she had drawn on her kimona and tiptoed out of her room on her way to -the bath, she glanced at Freeman's closed door and smiled. No need to -worry about Freeman for an hour or two. -</p> -<p> -Half an hour later, fully garbed, she stepped from her room again, and -this time she tapped on Freeman's door, gently at first and then more -vigorously. There was no response. Henrietta opened the door and looked -into the room. It was empty; Freeman was gone. -</p> -<p> -In the hall, in the corner nearest Henrietta's door, stood a wood box, -receptacle for the wood used in the winter stoves, and above this the -plaster and lath had been broken. It was in the hole in the wall thus made -that Henrietta had thrust Freeman's trousers, crowding them down out of -sight. They were still there, and as if in answer to another query that -came into Henrietta's mind at the moment, she heard Gay's voice, brisk and -happy, speaking to Lorna below. If Freeman had fled, he had not persuaded -Gay to fly with him. Probably he had fled with such covering as he could -improvise, hoping to arouse one of his boon companions and beg what was -necessary, Henrietta thought. -</p> -<p> -When she reached the hall below she found Gay, Lorna, and Johnnie Alberson -there, laughing over some item in the morning <i>Eagle</i>. -</p> -<p> -“Lem has gone,” she said. -</p> -<p> -“Good for Lem,” said Johnnie, and he handed her the paper, pointing to a -headline. -</p> -<p> -“Riverbank Loses Only Saint,” the headline said. “Little Brother of Stray -Dogs Departs for Parts Unknown. Holy Life Too Strenuous For Saint Harvey -of Riverbank.” - </p> -<p> -Lorna and Johnnie, it seemed, had already breakfasted. Henrietta, leaving -the three to laugh over the article in the paper, went to the dining-room -and through it into the kitchen, where Miss Susan was thumping at a piece -of wet wood in her stove, using the lid-lifter. -</p> -<p> -“Lem has run away,” Henrietta said without preliminaries. -</p> -<p> -“And good riddance. Hope I never set eyes on him again, the mean thief! -Him and his pa, indeed! Robbin' and cheatin'!” - </p> -<p> -“No, Lem's not a thief. Here is the money you missed.” - </p> -<p> -Miss Susan looked at the bills. -</p> -<p> -“What's that money? I got mine off of him. He did n't go and steal it over -again? You don't mean to tell me that young—” - </p> -<p> -“No. It wasn't your money you found on him. That was money his father gave -him—to run away with, I suppose. He did not take your money at all. -Miss Susan, Freeman has gone.” - </p> -<p> -Miss Susan put down the lid-lifter and turned to Henrietta. -</p> -<p> -“Gone? Run off, you mean? Well, a nice kettle of fish him and you are, I -must say, you and your fine husband, lyin' and fightin' with Carter Bruce -all over my front yard, and makin' love to Gay and Johnnie! I never heard -of such go-ings-on in all my born days. What'd that worthless husband of -yours run of! for?” - </p> -<p> -She looked at Henrietta keenly. -</p> -<p> -“It was him stole my money, was n't it?” she said. -</p> -<p> -“Yes.” - </p> -<p> -“Then he's good riddance, and that's all I've got to say about that,” said -Susan. “And the farther that worthless Lem goes and the longer he stays, -the better I 'll like it. When you going?” - </p> -<p> -“Now. Any time. Whenever you wish,” said Henrietta. -</p> -<p> -“You can't go too soon to suit me,” said Miss Susan. “I've had enough and -a plenty of the whole lot of you. If you want to get yourself some -breakfast you can, and if you don't want to, you need n't, but I hope I -won't see you around too long. I've got to get your room ready for the -next boarder that comes, and I'd like to have it empty by noon.” - </p> -<p> -Henrietta hesitated, but only for a moment. “Of course I'll go if you want -me to go, Miss Susan,” she said cheerfully. “You've been very kind and -patient with me. I just want to thank you for that. I 'll never forget -that. I <i>will</i> have breakfast before I go. I'm ravenous this -morning.” - </p> -<p> -She found the coffee-pot on the back of the stove, and Miss Susan -grudgingly opened the oven door and let Henrietta see where her breakfast -had been kept warm. Henrietta carried it to the dining-room. She was -eating when Johnnie Alberson came in and took a seat opposite her. -</p> -<p> -“I'm going away,” she said. -</p> -<p> -“You! Going away! Where? What for?” he asked. -</p> -<p> -“Miss Susan needs my room; she expects another boarder.” - </p> -<p> -“But, hold on! You don't mean it, do you? Where are you going?” - </p> -<p> -“I don't know—yet. Away from Riverbank, I suppose. I have n't had -time to think yet. She just told me.” - </p> -<p> -“But, look here!” he said. “You mean she is sending you away?” - </p> -<p> -“It seems to be that.” - </p> -<p> -“It does, does it?” said Alberson, and he was out of his chair and on his -way to the kitchen, and did not wait, although she called, “Johnnie, -wait!” after him. -</p> -<p> -Henrietta ate her breakfast slowly. She could hear Johnnie's briskly -cheerful tone and Miss Susan's voice—at first hard and obstinate, -and then yielding. Johnnie came back into the din-ing-room and sat -opposite Henrietta again. -</p> -<p> -“That's all right now,” he said. “You don't have to go unless you want to. -She's willing to have you stay.” - </p> -<p> -“She is? Miss Susan is? Whatever did you say to her?” - </p> -<p> -Johnnie leaned forward and smiled at Henrietta. -</p> -<p> -“I'm an Alberson, you know; one of the River-bank Albersons,” he said. “We -are used to having our way.” - </p> -<p> -“But that's no reason—that's—she would not let that change her -mind. You said something else.” - </p> -<p> -“Why, yes; I did,” said Johnnie. “I told her you were going to marry an -Alberson. I told her you were going to marry me.” - </p> -<p> -Henrietta put down her fork and looked at him squarely. -</p> -<p> -“But I told you I had a husband. You know I have a husband in Colorado. I -told you so.” - </p> -<p> -“Of course. I remember that. I honor you for that, Henrietta. But of -course it was all a lie. You have no husband in Colorado. Have you?” - Henrietta tried to look into his eyes and say she had, but his eyes would -not look into hers seriously. They twinkled mischievously and looked -through her eyes into her heart. She drew a deep breath, like one -drowning, and looked down. -</p> -<p> -“No,” she said. “I have no husband—in Colorado.” - </p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -CHAPTER XXII -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>oses Shuder, having paid Saint Harvey of Riverbank his good money, went -back to his own junkyard feeling high elation. The great ambition that had -urged him ever since he had begun, a raw immigrant, was consummated. He -was the mightiest Junk King of Riverbank. He need fear no paltry -competition. He could put prices down and he could buy or refuse to buy, -and he could put prices up, and no one would interfere. He saw himself the -future great man of his people, bringing his downtrodden compatriots from -Russia, sending them out upon the roads of free America to glean the waste -metals and rags, setting them up in small trades, financing them, being a -father to them. He had eliminated Harvey Redding. -</p> -<p> -But as he considered the transaction he began to worry. It is the duty of -every man, in making a bargain, to make a good bargain—in fact, the -best possible bargain—and Shuder began to fear he had not done that. -Saint Harvey had accepted his offer almost too promptly. -</p> -<p> -His knowledge of values quieted this fear somewhat. The junk he had bought -was worth more than he had paid for it, he knew, and the yard was worth -more than one hundred dollars per year. Suddenly the awful thought came to -him that, although he had paid Saint Harvey cash money, he had nothing to -show for it. He had no “paper,” no receipt, no lease, nothing! Not even a -witness! The cold perspiration oozed from his every pore. He had been -cheated! -</p> -<p> -Moses Shuder, lying beside his soundly sleeping—and snoring—wife, -squirmed with shame at the thought that he had been such a fool. He pulled -at his beard angrily. So be it! He would find this Harvey Redding and make -him give a paper. In the morning— -</p> -<p> -He suddenly sat bolt upright. -</p> -<p> -“Rosa, hush!” he whispered, putting his palm under her chin and closing -her mouth. -</p> -<p> -“What is it, Moses? Fire? Thieves?” - </p> -<p> -“Hush! Thieves,” he whispered. He slid out of bed and drew on his -trousers. From the lean-to where he kept his most precious junk—his -copper and his lead—came the subdued clink of metal. Stealthily -Shuder glided to his back door. He glided to the door of the lean-to. -</p> -<p> -“Thief! I got you!” he cried, and pounced upon Lem. -</p> -<p> -“You leave me alone! You let go of me!” the boy cried. But Shuder had him -fast, and scolding in Yiddish he dragged the boy from the lean-to and into -the shack. -</p> -<p> -Rosa lit the oil lamp. -</p> -<p> -“Sure!” panted Shuder. “Young Redink! Stealing chunk! Sure!” - </p> -<p> -Lem was in a panic. Fear, such as he had never experienced, cowed him. To -the mind of youth the strange foreigner seems a thing to be jeered and -hooted in the open day, but in the homes and churches and synagogues of -the foreigners are believed to lurk strange mysteries; deep, unfathomable, -blood-curdling, weird ways and doings, especially dire when wrought upon -boys. Lem, in Shuder's grasp, did not see the poor shack with its -grotesque furnishings rescued from purchases of offcast second-hand -things. He did not see the tawdry intimate surroundings of a poor Jew -struggling to wrest comfort and life from a none too friendly environment. -Lem saw a perilous twilight in which might be worked strange tortures, -awful incantations, black wizardry. Lem was scared stiff. -</p> -<p> -“Stealink!” said Shuder bitterly. The poor man was, indeed, almost in -tears. His natural anger was all but lost in a feeling of hopelessness -that he would ever be able to protect his property in this land of scorn. -</p> -<p> -“You should gif him by a policemans right avay,” said Rosa. “He should go -to chail. Stealink at night!” - </p> -<p> -“Vait!” said Shuder, upraising his free hand. “Boy, vere is your fadder?” - </p> -<p> -“I don't know,” Lem whimpered. “How do I know where he is? He don't have -to tell me, does he? You let me go, I tell you!” - </p> -<p> -“Should you tell me vere is your fadder, I let you go,” said Shuder. “Stop -viggling. I don't hurt you. Why you steal my chunk?” - </p> -<p> -“I did n't steal it. I just took some.” - </p> -<p> -“Why?” Shuder insisted. -</p> -<p> -Lem looked up at the Jew. -</p> -<p> -“I won't tell,” he said. -</p> -<p> -“Then to chail!” said Shuder. -</p> -<p> -“Well—I wanted it,” said Lem reluctantly, and suddenly he broke down -and began to ay. “I wanted to go to pop. I wanted to go to him. He said I -could go where he is.” - </p> -<p> -“Rosa, hush!” said Shuder when his wife tried to speak again, and he began -patiently, and with the little English he could command, to comfort Lem -and let him know nothing dire was to happen to him. -</p> -<p> -Slowly, Lem's fear of some mysterious fate was lessened, and again and -again he heard that Shuder, too, wished to find Saint Harvey. Not to harm -him, Shuder assured Lem; only to get a “paper” that Saint Harvey had -forgotten to leave. The importance of this paper to Shuder loomed vast as -the Jew spoke of it again and again. In spite of his fear and hatred, Lem -felt that the “paper” was something Shuder should not be robbed of—that -it was some sort of Magna Charta of his life which Harvey had carried away -by mistake. -</p> -<p> -“You won't get a policeman after me?” Lem begged. -</p> -<p> -“Sure, no! I gif you right by it. Sure, no!” - </p> -<p> -“Well, I ain't goin' to tell you. Pop he told me not to tell. But I can't -help it if you go where I go, can I?” - </p> -<p> -“Nobody could,” said Shuder. “How could you?” - </p> -<p> -“Well, then, you let me go an' I'll go. I'll go right where he told me to, -because that's what he said for me to do. And I can't help it if you -follow me. Only you better get ready to walk a long ways, because it's -sixty miles, I guess. Anyway, I guess it is.” - </p> -<p> -Shuder stroked his beard. -</p> -<p> -“Could a man go by the railroad?” - </p> -<p> -“Sure he could, if he had the money. Was n't that what I wanted some junk -for—to sell it, so I could go on the train? But I have n't got any -money. So I got to walk.” - </p> -<p> -“Mebby I should pay,” said Shuder. -</p> -<p> -Lem considered this. -</p> -<p> -“I guess that's all right,” he said, “if you want to. We'd get there -sooner, anyway.” - </p> -<p> -Lem would not, however, tell where they were to go even then, and the next -morning Shuder had to press close behind the boy at the ticket window to -overhear him ask for a ticket to Burlington. He sat beside the boy all the -way, too, never moving far from him even when they changed cars at the -junction. At noon he fed Lem from the lunch Rosa had provided, and he -bought Lem two apples from the train-boy. Shuder was close behind the boy -when Lem asked at the post-office window for a letter for Lemuel Redding. -Although he could not read, he peered over Lem's shoulder as Lem read the -letter the clerk handed out. -</p> -<p> -“Pa ain't here no more,” said Lem, looking up at Shuder. “He's gone -somewheres.” - </p> -<p> -Shuder grasped the letter from Lem's hand and stared at it, turning it -over and over. -</p> -<p> -“Please, misder,” he begged of a man who passed, “you should read this to -me.” - </p> -<p> -The man took the letter. -</p> -<p> -“Dear Lem,” he read. “I'm going on from here because the Jews have the -junk business all tied up here from what I can see, and it's no place for -me. No telling where I 'll land up at. You better go back to your Aunt -Susan and wait until I send for you. Maybe it won't be as long as it looks -like now.” - </p> -<p> -“And the name? The name?” cried Shuder. “Redding; it looks like Henry -Redding, or something like that.” - </p> -<p> -“Well, I won't go back,” said Lem. “I don't care what he says. I won't go -back to that old aunt. I don't care if I starve to death, I won't go back -to her.” - </p> -<p> -Shuder had heard about Miss Susan on the way down from Riverbank, for Lem -had been full of a sense of injustice and had had to talk to some one -about it or burst. Lem and his troubles were none of Shuder's affair, but, -on the other hand, Saint Harvey and the “paper” were, and Lem was Shuder's -only link with Saint Harvey now. -</p> -<p> -“Do I ask you to go back by her, Lem'vel?” Shuder demanded. “No! But why -should you vorry? Ain't I got two houses? Ain't I got two chunkyards? -Ain't I got plenty room? I esk you, come by me awhile, Lem'vel.” - </p> -<p> -“Say, what you mean?” Lem asked. “You want me to go an' live at your -house?” - </p> -<p> -“Sure!” said Shuder. -</p> -<p> -Lem looked at the Jew. -</p> -<p> -“All right,” he said. “Until I get a word from pop. I bet you don't have -so many dishes to wash, anyway.” - </p> -<p> -Shuder raised a hand. -</p> -<p> -“Listen! Listen, Lem'vel!” he said solemnly. “I gif you my word you should -n't wash even your face if you don't want to.” - </p> -<p> -“All right, I'll come,” said Lem. -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -CHAPTER XXIII -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>o his very considerable surprise, Lem did not find residing with the -Shuders a painful experience. Rosa, for all her strange ways of doing -things and her incomprehensible objection to chickens killed in any but a -certain way, was a better cook than Saint Harvey, and knew how to prepare -things that a boy's appetite found delicious. Lem had to sleep in the -lean-to, on an old iron cot set among the piles of junk, but it was summer -and hot and he enjoyed that. -</p> -<p> -Shuder made him work, but it was work that Lem liked; the kind he had -always done for his father, and he had only about half as much of it to do -as his father had made him do. He enjoyed helping with the horse, -harnessing and unharnessing it. There was only one thing Lem refused to do—he -would not go out of the junkyard. For a week he kept under close cover. -Then, one night, he stole away, and, keeping in the alley shadows, made -his way to Miss Susan's back gate. He did not risk the rusty hinges -creaking, but climbed the fence, and dodged to the shadow of the house. -</p> -<p> -Miss Susan was in the kitchen. Lem went around the house. On the porch -Lorna sat, on one of the steps as usual, and Henrietta and Johnnie -Alberson had chairs. It was Henrietta Lem wanted. He seated himself under -the drooping spirea bushes that edged the porch, and waited. Presently -Lorna went up. -</p> -<p> -Lem heard a chair move on the porch and hoped Johnnie Alberson was going, -but he was to have no such luck. He heard Johnnie speak. -</p> -<p> -“Henrietta,” he said, “when are we going to be married?” - </p> -<p> -“Never,” Henrietta answered, but not as if the question had offended her. -</p> -<p> -“But I'm not going to take that for an answer,” he said. “I can't. It -would make a liar of me. I told Miss Susan I was going to marry you, and -she rather depends on it, poor soul.” - </p> -<p> -“I told you, Johnnie, I have a husband. It is ridiculous, sinful, for you -to talk to me of marrying.” - </p> -<p> -“I see! Which husband do you mean, Etta? The Colorado one who was and then -was n't?” - </p> -<p> -“Oh! please don't!” Henrietta begged. “I can't tell you. Not now. Not yet. -Perhaps never. I—” - </p> -<p> -“If you don't mean the Colorado myth,” said Johnnie, quite unabashed, “you -must mean Freeman. Do you?” - </p> -<p> -There was a momentary silence. -</p> -<p> -“Yes, I do mean Freeman,” Henrietta said then. “How did you know he was my -husband?” - </p> -<p> -“Well, you see,” said Johnnie slowly but wickedly, “he sold you to me. The -night of the row about Lem stealing Miss Susan's money, Freeman came to my -room after you had taken Lem, and we had a frank talk—quite a frank -talk. So I bought you.” - </p> -<p> -“John!” - </p> -<p> -“Yes; I did. You cost me three hundred dollars, too—a lot of money -to pay for a wife these days. You cost me two hundred—the money he -stole from me—and another hundred in cold cash that I gave him to -get away on. And my very best pants. That's three hundred dollars plus. So -that settles that.” - </p> -<p> -“He is still my husband.” - </p> -<p> -“But not for long. He threw in a promise to that effect. I made him. He's -getting a divorce now.” - </p> -<p> -“But he can't. I've always been more than faithful.” - </p> -<p> -“Yes, he can. You stole his trousers. That's grounds for the strongest -kind of divorce. That's cruelty <i>de luxe</i>. So that's settled. When -are you going to marry me?” - </p> -<p> -Henrietta, in spite of herself, laughed, but was serious again instantly. -</p> -<p> -“Never, John,” she said. “I'm not going to do any more marrying. I'm going -to do penance for the marrying I have done in the past. If what you say is -true and Freeman frees me, I—” - </p> -<p> -“What?” - </p> -<p> -“I want to take that poor Lem boy and make a good man of him. I want to do -in Lem what I undid in Freeman. I want that to be my penance.” Johnnie -laughed, and arose. -</p> -<p> -“All right! We'll leave it that way to-night. Good-night, Henrietta. -You've some penance ahead of you, if I know that boy! Good-night.” - Henrietta sat thinking after Johnnie was gone. She had many things she -wished to let drift through her mind, trying each as it came up. -</p> -<p> -Johnnie Alberson first of all. If Freeman did get a divorce— -</p> -<p> -“Say!” - </p> -<p> -Henrietta, although seldom nervous, was startled by this voice coming from -the bushes. -</p> -<p> -“Who is that?” she asked, her heart standing still for a moment. Her first -thought was that it was Freeman returned. -</p> -<p> -“It's Lem,” the boy whispered. “Is he gone? Can I come out?” - </p> -<p> -“Oh, Lem! You did frighten me! Yes, come here. Where have you been? You -poor child—” - </p> -<p> -“I ain't been anywhere,” Lem said. “I'm to Shuder's—to his junkyard. -I'm junkin' for him an' he's keepin' me.” - </p> -<p> -“Shuder is? Who is Shuder?” - </p> -<p> -Lem came and stood by her side. -</p> -<p> -“He's the Jew. He's the one that pop could n't abide. He's all right, -though, Shuder is. Say—” - </p> -<p> -“Yes?” - </p> -<p> -“You know my pop—well, he went away. So I went. But he was n't -there. He said he'd send word to me when he was somewhere else—he -said he'd send it here to Aunt Susan's house. But he did n't, did he?” - </p> -<p> -“No; I'm quite sure he has not.” - </p> -<p> -“Well, I guess he don't want me, anyhow,” said Lem. “I guess that's what's -the matter. Only—” - </p> -<p> -“Yes, Lem?” - </p> -<p> -“If he does send word you'll let me know, won't you? Because I'll be down -to Shuder's. You will, won't you? Only don't let that old thief aunt know -where I am, will you? Because she'd jail me, darn her! She'd do that in a -minute.” - </p> -<p> -“Lem,” said Henrietta, “would you like to be my boy?” - </p> -<p> -“Sure! I'd like it if I was. Only I ain't.” - </p> -<p> -“But if I could have you? You would like to be my boy, would n't you? And -live with me? Not in this house; some other house.” - </p> -<p> -“What you going to do; buy me off of Aunt Susan?” - </p> -<p> -Henrietta laughed ruefully. If it came to that she was herself in pawn to -Miss Sue. -</p> -<p> -“'Cause she's got first rights to me,” Lem said. “Unless pop gets me back -from her. Say—” - </p> -<p> -“What, Lem?” - </p> -<p> -“I guess maybe pop ain't goin' to try very hard to get me back. I guess -maybe he don't want to bother about it. I guess, if the Jews have got the -upper hand of the junk business everywhere, pop'll go into the saint -business somewhere again. So he won't want me then. So I guess, if he -don't send me word pretty soon, I 'll go somewhere else. You know—where -there ain't no old aunt that wants to jail me.” - </p> -<p> -“You mean run away, Lem?” - </p> -<p> -“Yes. I can get a job, I guess, junking. I don't mind Jews. They cook -pretty good. They don't make you wash the dishes, anyway.” Henrietta put -her arm around the boy, but he did not like it and squirmed, and she -released him. -</p> -<p> -“How much does your father owe Miss Susan?” she asked. -</p> -<p> -“I don't know. A lot, I guess. Only he paid her some. He owes her what's -left of what he owed her. Lots of money, I guess.” - </p> -<p> -“A hundred? Two hundred?” - </p> -<p> -“I guess so. I don't know.” - </p> -<p> -“Well, no matter. I'll let you know if any word comes from your father. -But, promise me this, Lem—you won't run away until you let me know. -I won't tell. Will you promise that?” - </p> -<p> -“Yes.” - </p> -<p> -“And come to me any time you want to. If you get into trouble, come to me. -Any night or any day. I'll always sit here awhile after the others go. -You'll do that—come to me if you are in trouble?” - </p> -<p> -“Yes.” - </p> -<p> -“Then you'd better go. It's very late.” - </p> -<p> -“All right.” - </p> -<p> -The boy dropped over the edge of the porch. For a minute or two longer -Henrietta sat; then she went in. -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -CHAPTER XXIV -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hen Henrietta reached her room she lighted the gas and stood for many -minutes before her mirror looking at her face as it was reflected there. -It was thus she took stock of herself, trying to find and appraise the -real Henrietta. The face she saw surprised her, for she had come to her -room feeling that she was a wrecked and ruined Henrietta. She had half -expected to see the face of a hag, lined with wrinkles of moral ugliness, -with eyes of a slinking liar. She saw the face of a comely woman, younger -by far than her actual years warranted. On the face were no lines -whatever, either of age or sin. It was the frank face with the frank eyes -of unsoiled innocence. -</p> -<p> -She bent nearer and studied her eyes. They looked back at her with no -signs of deceitfulness. They were clear, steady, honest. Her troubles, her -mistakes, her prevarications, had left no marks. She stood back, so that -her full bust was reflected, and she tilted the mirror and stood away from -it so that she saw all of her figure. -</p> -<p> -She had meant, if the mirror told her that, to accept the verdict that she -was old, decaying, morally and physically vile. Instead she found herself -to be all she had imagined she was not. From outward view she was lovely, -and her eyes refused to tell her she was depraved. -</p> -<p> -Henrietta undressed slowly, pausing again and again to drop into periods -of thoughtfulness, out of which she came slowly. She was trying to -rearrange her life, as if she meant, before she slept, to draw an -indelible line between the Henrietta she had been and the Henrietta she -meant to be. -</p> -<p> -One thing she saw clearly. There must be restitution for the ill she had -wrought Freeman; for she still held herself to blame for what he had -become. This restitution—since there was no longer hope of Freeman—must -be made vicariously to Lem. -</p> -<p> -There were other things she must do. The lies she had told must be untold. -Then, too, Carter Bruce and Gay must be set right on love's path, for Gay -still held eternal resentment against Carter. Johnnie Alberson must be -turned away forever. If she could hold her school position another year, -or perhaps two years, she must pay Miss Susan and Gay and Lorna, and -reimburse Johnnie for Freeman's pilferings. It could all be done. She fell -asleep finally resolved on all these things, and slept peacefully. -</p> -<p> -Lem, for his part, went back to his lean-to and his cot among the junk in -the same mind as before. He did not worry much about what women said. When -the time came, if he did not hear from his father, he would cut loose from -River-bank. -</p> -<p> -Henrietta made it a point to see Johnnie Al-berson the next morning before -he went to his drug store, and told him, as one saying the final, -unalterable word, that she would never marry him. He received this sad -information cheerfully. -</p> -<p> -“Did n't think you would,” he said. “Had n't the least hope of it.” - </p> -<p> -“I'm glad,” Henrietta said. “It makes it better when you feel so.” - </p> -<p> -“Oh, I've always felt that way,” he said jauntily. “I never expected you -to marry me. I expected to marry you. And I still expect to. And I'm going -to.” - </p> -<p> -He smiled at her. -</p> -<p> -“But, wait,” she said, “I tell you—” - </p> -<p> -“Did you ever know me to fail in anything I ever attempted?” he asked. -</p> -<p> -She said nothing. -</p> -<p> -“Well, I do, plenty of times,” he laughed, “but this is not one of them.” - </p> -<p> -“You'll find that it is one of them,” she said, meaning it, too, but he -did not seem to worry about it. -</p> -<p> -Miss Susan, since her interview with Johnnie Alberson, had been -exceedingly cold to Henrietta, merely tolerating her. Now, when Henrietta -turned into the house, Miss Susan was waiting for her in the hall. -</p> -<p> -“Well, Henrietta,” she said, “I must say I'm thankful, it coming just at -this time when, goodness knows! I'm hard enough put to it to make ends -meet. And I will say I never expected to get it. So I'm thankful.” - </p> -<p> -She handed Henrietta two slips of paper. Henrietta stared at them with -amazement, for one was a receipt “in full to date,” and the other a -receipt, “for board, in advance, to October 8th.” - </p> -<p> -“I don't say I've figured it exactly right,” said Miss Susan, “but I 'll -make right what ain't right. And as for Mr. Todder's receipt—” - </p> -<p> -“But why? What do you mean?” asked Henrietta. “Why are you giving me -these?” - </p> -<p> -“I give because I'm asked to,” said Miss Susan a trifle tartly. -</p> -<p> -“But the money! I did not pay you any money.” - </p> -<p> -“Nor did you,” said Miss Susan, “although I might well suppose you knew it -had been given. Mr. Alberson—” - </p> -<p> -Henrietta colored. -</p> -<p> -“Did he dare pay this?” she asked angrily. -</p> -<p> -“He dared hand it over, as he had been told to do and as it was his duty -to do,” said Miss Susan. “It's infamous! He had no right—” - </p> -<p> -“Right or no right was not for him to say,” Miss Susan said. “When your -own husband sent the money—” - </p> -<p> -“Freeman? Freeman sent money? That's nonsense! Freeman sent the money to -Mr. Alberson? That's absurd!” - </p> -<p> -“Absurd or not absurd it was so sent,” said Miss Susan, “and I only hope -he came by it honestly; but that is no concern of mine. Paid I am, to date -and more than to date, and properly grateful, I must say.” - </p> -<p> -Henrietta folded the two receipts slowly. -</p> -<p> -“Very well!” she said. -</p> -<p> -She was furious, but she had no desire to quarrel over the matter with -Miss Susan. She would let Johnnie Alberson know, however, that such things -could not be done. It was, as she had said, infamous. It was effrontery -such as she had never imagined possible. She longed to rush to Johnnie's -shop immediately and tell him so. Of course, however, that would not do. -She must wait until he came. -</p> -<p> -She was interrupted by Gay and Lorna, who came down the stairs. -</p> -<p> -“Going for a walk,” Gay said. “Put on a hat and come, Henrietta.” - </p> -<p> -Henrietta slipped the receipts into her waist and took her hat from the -hall rack. A walk with Gay and Lorna just then suited her well. They went -up the hill, and turned, going toward the country. -</p> -<p> -“I want to tell you something,” she said, when they were striding along -the country road. “There is no William Vane. I lied about him. I made him -up.” - </p> -<p> -Gay laughed. -</p> -<p> -“Of course. We knew that, Henrietta.” - </p> -<p> -“I suppose so. I was clumsy—toward the last. I was worried. About -Freeman.” - </p> -<p> -Gay closed her lips firmly. -</p> -<p> -“Freeman is my husband,” said Henrietta. -</p> -<p> -For a full minute Gay said nothing. -</p> -<p> -“Is that another lie?” she asked then, but her voice was choked. -</p> -<p> -“I deserve that,” said Henrietta. “No, it is not a lie. It is the full -truth. Freeman is my husband. He is also a thief. He stole from Johnnie -Alberson. That is why he fled. So, you see, we are a nice couple—a -thief and a liar.” - </p> -<p> -Strangely enough, Lorna put her arm around Henrietta's waist. Gay stopped -short. The next moment she was at the side of the road, sunk down upon the -grass, her face buried in her arms, sobbing. Lorna went to her, and -Henrietta stood before her. -</p> -<p> -“He is not worth it,” she said, meaning Gay's tears. -</p> -<p> -“Oh, I know! I know!” Gay wept. “It's not that. I don't know what it is. I -did n't like him. I hated him. I knew he was bad. I don't know what's the -matter. I'm just so miserable! I'm so wicked; so mean!” - </p> -<p> -“Don't cry; don't cry, Gay,” Lorna was begging. -</p> -<p> -“Well, I can't help it. I've been so mean to him; to Car—to Carter. -And he loves—he loves me so. He's so good and—and good and—and -I've been so—” - </p> -<p> -“Hush! It will be all right, Gay,” Lorna comforted. “Stop now. Pretend -you've not been crying, anyway; here comes a farmer.” - </p> -<p> -Gay wiped her eyes and looked down the road. Up the hill a rig was coming -slowly, one flat wheel thumping the road with a rattle of loose tire at -each revolution, while it, or another wheel, screeched nerve-rackingly. In -the shafts was an aged gray horse that stopped now and then to swish its -tail and turn its head in an attempt to bite a horsefly on its withers. In -the cart sat a fat man, a very fat man, and he objurgated the old horse -vociferously. -</p> -<p> -“Dod-baste you!” he cried. “Get along there. Giddap! Go on! Dod-baste you, -you're enough to make a saint swear, you old lummox, you!” - </p> -<p> -Saint Harvey of Riverbank was returning from his travels. -</p> -<p> -<br /><br /> -</p> -<hr /> -<p> -<a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> </a> -</p> -<div style="height: 4em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> -<h2> -CHAPTER XXV -</h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hat noon Henrietta hurried across the road to the Bruce mansion and found -Judge Bruce on the porch, wiping his face and resting, after his walk up -the hill, before going in for his midday meal. -</p> -<p> -“Carter here?” she asked rather breathlessly. -</p> -<p> -“Why, no, he ain't,” said the old Judge. “Set down, won't you, Henrietta? -Hot day. No, Carter ain't home. He's gone on a trip. Out to Nevada or -somewhere. Some sort of business Johnnie Alberson sent him off on. Wasn't -nothing I'd do as well at, was it?” - </p> -<p> -It was not. -</p> -<p> -“Johnnie Alberson sent him?” exclaimed Henrietta. -</p> -<p> -“That's right,” said the Judge. “Looks sort of suspicious to me,” he added -with a twinkle. “Ain't ever heard of Johnnie having a wife, have you? -Nevada's where folks go to get rid of them entangling alliances, I've -heard tell.” - </p> -<p> -Henrietta looked at him acutely. -</p> -<p> -“He didn't say why he was going? Carter did n't?” she asked. -</p> -<p> -“He might have, and then again he might n't have,” said the Judge. “No use -pumpin' me, Henrietta. Us law folks can't be pumped.” - </p> -<p> -He waited and then asked: -</p> -<p> -“Heard from that Freeman Todder boarder of Miss Susan's lately?” - </p> -<p> -Henrietta studied the old man's face. -</p> -<p> -“You won't tell me anything?” she asked. -</p> -<p> -“Not a mite,” said the Judge. “Ain't no use askin' it,” and he chuckled. -</p> -<p> -Henrietta put her hand to her cheek, so hot was the cheek that it was like -flame to her hand. She turned from the Judge and saw Johnnie Al-berson -coming up the hill, as jaunty and unconcerned as if the day was not -broiling hot. -</p> -<p> -“Oh!” wailed Henrietta, and she sped down and across the street and -intercepted the obnoxious druggist. He received her with a smile. -</p> -<p> -“Hot day,” he said genially. -</p> -<p> -Henrietta brushed this aside. -</p> -<p> -“Did you send Carter Bruce West? To attend to my divorce? Did you dare -interfere to that extent in my affairs? Did you?” she demanded. -</p> -<p> -“Bruce? Carter Bruce?” said Johnnie. “Why, yes, come to think of it, I did -send him West on some sort of a divorce business. You see, I thought such -things went better when personally conducted—” - </p> -<p> -“I don't care what you think! Did you dare to pay my bill to Miss Susan? -Did you dare do that?” - </p> -<p> -“Oh! was that your bill I paid?” asked Johnnie. “I did pay some board -bill. I do remember that now.” - </p> -<p> -“I won't have it!” declared Henrietta. “It's monstrous! It's outrageous. I -never heard of such unwarranted—” - </p> -<p> -“Neither did I,” said Johnnie. “I'd be ashamed of myself—if I was -ashamed.” And then, seriously, “But why shouldn't I? Two months from now -it would be all right—when we are married. What are two months? -Sixty days!” - </p> -<p> -“I've told you I'm not going to marry you. That I meant; and, more than -ever, I mean it now. You have insulted me beyond measure.” - </p> -<p> -“Yes; awfully,” said Johnnie. “And that isn't all. I've cancelled what -your Freeman took from me. I'm a cave man. I'm dubbing you with a modern -club. I'm getting you in my villainous toils.” - </p> -<p> -“It is not a thing to be jocular about,” said Henrietta. “I will not have -it!” - </p> -<p> -“All right,” said Johnnie cheerfully. “What are you going to do not to -have it? Look, Henrietta; why be so obstinate? Don't you like me?” - </p> -<p> -“I will not have it!” she could only repeat. -</p> -<p> -“That's not what bothers me,” said Johnnie. “What I want to know is -whether you will have me?” - </p> -<p> -“I will not have you!” said Henrietta. “I'll never marry any man! Least of -all you—after this.” - </p> -<p> -“You'll just take Lem and go off and be a grandmother to him,” said -Johnnie. “That's nice. Well—it's almost too hot to eat, isn't it?” - </p> -<p> -What could be done with such a man? There was nothing Henrietta could do. -She had no money to repay what he had paid Miss Susan, and she did not -know where Freeman had gone. Nevada might mean Reno, but old Judge Bruce -was no fool, and Nevada might not even mean Nevada—probably did not. -She stopped short where she stood. Johnnie tipped his hat politely and -went on. -</p> -<p> -Later that day Henrietta sat in the cool parlor of the boarding-house -trying to think what to do. She had gone over her slender assets and had -found them all too scant to permit her to leave Riverbank, taking Lem or -not taking him. To her came Miss Susan bearing a soiled envelope. -</p> -<p> -“A boy fetched this. He said there was n't any answer,” Miss Susan said. -“He was that Swatty boy, and I gave him a good piece of my mind about -thieving, while I had the chance.” - </p> -<p> -Henrietta tore open the envelope. -</p> -<p> -The note was from Harvey Redding. It asked her to come, if she could, to -see him, at the junkyard of Moses Shuder. “About Lemuel,” the note said. -Henrietta went. -</p> -<p> -She found the late saint in the junkyard tossing old iron into Shuder's -wagon. -</p> -<p> -“I would n't have asked you to come here,” Harvey said, wiping his face, -which was streaked with perspiration and rust, “only on account of Lem -yonder. Lem's scared. Lem's afraid, now that I've come back, his aunt'll -get word that I'm back an' come an' fetch him an' jail him. He's mortal -afraid of that aunt, Lem is. Don't know as I blame him so dod-basted much, -either. I'm sort of scared of her myself.” - </p> -<p> -“No reason, Mr. Redding,” Henrietta said. “She's cross—sometimes—but -her heart is kind.” - </p> -<p> -“Lem don't feel so,” said Harvey. “Seems like she's dead set against Lem. -Well, what I asked you to come for—seein' how I was scared to go up -to Susan's house—was about somethin' Lem said about you wantin' to -have him. I don't know but I'm willin'—” - </p> -<p> -“But don't you want him yourself?” asked Henrietta with a leap of her -heart. -</p> -<p> -“I might want him, dod-baste it,” said Harvey, “but I ain't got him. She's -got him. I pawned him to her, an' since I've went into pardnership with -this here Shuder—” - </p> -<p> -“What?” - </p> -<p> -“Well, he ain't so dod-basted bad, at that, when you come to know him,” - said Harvey. “He is sort of set against ham, but if other food is plenty I -can git along. An' the dicker I made with him, as I was sayin', is goin' -to take all my spare cash for quite a while. I guess him an' me, when we -git things goin' right, is goin' to con-troll the junk business of this -town, an' no mistake. We got a good combination in him an' me. He's a hard -worker an' me—I've got the brains.” - </p> -<p> -“But about Lem?” - </p> -<p> -“Well, that's it. Accordin' to these here terms of pardnership I'm goin' -to have to put in all the spare cash I can get for quite some time, an' it -looks like it would be years before I could git Lem out o' pawn, an' he -does hate dod-bastedly to be pawned to his Aunt Susan, he does. So if you -want to unpawn him an' git him pawned to you, I ain't got no objections.” - </p> -<p> -“And you, Lem?” asked Henrietta. “Would you rather be pawned to me?” - </p> -<p> -“I bet you!” the boy said eagerly. “I'd like it.” - </p> -<p> -“I don't know! I 'll see what I can do,” Henrietta said. “I would love to -have him. It is the greatest—the only desire of my heart.” - </p> -<p> -She went straight to Miss Susan when she reached the house. -</p> -<p> -“Well, I don't know,” Miss Susan said when -</p> -<p> -Henrietta had made her proposition, which was to take Lem out of pawn and -pay Miss Susan the amount of Harvey's note a little at a time. “I won't -tell a lie for nobody, not even to keep up a spite. Lem's been a sore -trial to me, and I guess I ain't made to have boys around me. And there -was a time when I thought you was the nicest woman I'd ever met. You've -got a way with you that makes folks like you. Often and often I 've wished -I had time from my work so I could fix myself up and set on the porch with -you and get real friendly with you. Mebby you won't know what I mean, -Henrietta, but many a time I've wished I had time to get the grease off me -and be so I could put my arm around you, like Lorna and Gay does. That's -the sort of way you've got about you. I ain't ashamed to say there's been -times I'd have given a lot if I could have kissed you.” - </p> -<p> -“Yes, I know,” said Henrietta. “I know the feeling.” - </p> -<p> -“Mebby so,” said Susan, “but if so I guess you never had it when you was -thinkin' of me. Nor I ain't ever had it toward no other woman—or man—not -even my ma, as far as I can remember; she was such a fretty, naggish -creature, poor soul!” - </p> -<p> -Miss Susan wiped an eye, furtively. -</p> -<p> -“I had an aunt once that made doughnuts and smelled of pink soap,” she -went on. “The way I felt to her was the nearest like what I felt toward -you. I don't know what to call it, unless it's like thoughts of a cool -grave on a hot Sunday mornin' in church after a hard week's work. -Henrietta, you're so <i>comfortable!</i> There just ain't no vinegar in -you!” - </p> -<p> -“There is in you, Susan,” Henrietta said. “Do you know how much?” - </p> -<p> -“Aplenty!” - </p> -<p> -“Just about one drop to a gallon of goodness,” said Henrietta gayly. “A -pint is a pound, is n't it? There must be about a hundred and sixty pints -of you, Susan, and not over one pint is vinegar. Only you do let it all -come to the top—you certainly do! And you are getting more and more -vinegary.” - </p> -<p> -“I have my trials.” - </p> -<p> -“The trouble with both of us is that we're failures, and we are beginning -to get old and it hurts,” said Henrietta. “You were going to send me away, -when I had n't a cent in the world, but that would not hurt me as much as -it hurt you. Such things would turn three more pints of Susan into -vinegar. And you 'll nag Lem, and there will be three more pints of -vinegared Susan. Do you know what I've noticed, Susan?” - </p> -<p> -“What?” - </p> -<p> -“I'm like soda to you. When you're sour a good spoonful of me makes you -fizz and boil, but when you finish fizzing and boiling you are as sweet as -honey. I take the sour out of your vinegar.” - </p> -<p> -“Yes, you do so,” said Susan, sighing. “That's why it is so hard on me to -have to not like you. I wish you was a different sort of woman.” - </p> -<p> -“I am!” said Henrietta eagerly. “I am, and I mean to be. Try me! Let me -have Lem!” - </p> -<p> -“Well, I'll think it over,” said Miss Susan. Henrietta was happier than -she had been for years. She went from Miss Susan happily. If she could -have Lem she would have a life-work—an opportunity to redeem what -she had done in harm to Freeman, and she would have a shield against -Johnnie Alberson, too. Twice that afternoon she spoke to Miss Susan. -</p> -<p> -“I ain't had time to think it over,” Miss Susan told her the first time. -The second time Miss Susan said, “Well, I'm inclined. I'm more for than -against, but I ain't quite sure yet. It looks like I would be.” - </p> -<p> -For Gay and Carter Bruce Henrietta had no more fears. She was even able to -treat Johnnie Alberson with haughty calm when he came home that evening. -At supper she questioned Miss Susan with her eyes as that tired but -tireless woman waited on the table. -</p> -<p> -“I'm goin' to say 'yes,' if I don't change my mind,” Miss Susan whispered. -“You see me before I go to bed.” - </p> -<p> -Henrietta was as happy as a young girl that evening, for she felt sure -Miss Susan would give up Lem. She carefully avoided Johnnie Alberson, -doing so by putting her arm around Lorna's waist and going across to -Gay's. What might happen to Johnnie Alberson she did not care at that -moment. -</p> -<p> -“Henrietta,” Lorna said, as they crossed the street, “do you know that Gay -has had a letter from Carter Bruce? Carter says he is superintending a -divorce. Do you know whose?” - </p> -<p> -“Freeman's,” Henrietta answered. “Yes, I knew that, Lorna.” - </p> -<p> -“Bruce writes that it is settled—that it is all arranged but the -simple final details. Henrietta—” - </p> -<p> -“Yes?” - </p> -<p> -“You don't tell me anything about <i>this</i> love affair. Is Johnnie -Alberson—has he—I mean—” - </p> -<p> -“He has asked me to marry him, if that is what you mean, Lorna,” Henrietta -said, “but if you mean you want to know whether I am going to marry him or -not, I'm not. I'm not going to marry any one. I'm going to have Lem. I'm -going to make Miss Susan give me Lem, and I'm going to live with Miss -Susan, and we will all be as happy as the day is long.” - </p> -<p> -“I think Johnnie likes you awfully well,” Lorna ventured. -</p> -<p> -Henrietta gave Lorna's waist a little squeeze. “I know he does,” she -admitted cheerfully, “but I'm Lem's, and Lem is going to be mine.” They -found Gay in a tremble of happiness, for Carter Bruce had written other -things in his letter than the mere report that Freeman would surely have -his divorce in a few days. It was almost an hour later when Henrietta -arose from her seat on Gay's porch and peered across the street. -</p> -<p> -“Who is that?” she asked. “Isn't that Lem and his father going up Miss -Susan's steps? It is! Good-bye, Gay!” - </p> -<p> -She overtook the panting ex-saint before he reached Miss Susan's front -door. -</p> -<p> -“Oh, Mr. Redding!” she exclaimed. “I know you've come to see your sister. -Here—this is the easiest chair. You must be so tired. I 'll tell her -you're here. You want a fan, I know.” - </p> -<p> -“Well, 'tis dod-basted hot,” said Harvey, taking the proffered fan. “It's -hot enough to make a saint swear, if I was one, which I ain't. No, mam; -never again! Saintin' ain't in my line—not as a regular job. I don't -say that maybe I won't do a little at it off an' on, times when the junk -business gets a mite slack, but I don't figger to go at it regular again. -The way I figger it out is that bein' a saint is too easy for a big, -strong man like me. Yes, mam, too easy. I may take a whack at it once in a -while as a sort of amusement—” - </p> -<p> -It was evident that Harvey did not mean to use the chair Henrietta had -drawn forward for him, and a great fear came to her that he would reach -Miss Susan and reclaim Lem. She pushed past him into the hall, and locked -the screen door, saying, “I 'll tell Miss Susan you are here,” as she -fled. -</p> -<p> -She threw open the kitchen door and stopped short. Miss Susan sat in her -lone kitchen chair, and before her, seated on the edge of the table, was -Johnnie Alberson. -</p> -<p> -“Oh!” Henrietta ejaculated, “I didn't know—” - </p> -<p> -“Wait!” said Miss Susan as Henrietta was about to go. “I'd as well say it -now as any time, Henrietta. I can't let you have Lem.” - </p> -<p> -Johnnie Alberson carefully smoothed the cloth over his well-rounded knee. -He caught Henrietta's eye and smiled at her. -</p> -<p> -“Cave-man business, Henrietta,” he said. -</p> -<p> -“What do you mean? Has Mr. Alberson been telling you I am not fit to have—” - Henrietta began. -</p> -<p> -“Well, I'm sure I hate to disappoint you,” Miss Susan interrupted, “but an -Alberson is an Alberson, and cash money is cash money. Lem ain't pawned to -me any more; he's pawned to Mr. Alberson. Mr. Alberson paid me what -Brother Harvey owes me and Lem's his.” - </p> -<p> -“Is this true?” Henrietta demanded. She felt she should be furiously -angry, but for some reason she was not. Her heart, instead of pumping -angry blood to her cheeks, leaped joyously, but she tried to put -indignation in her voice. “Lem's mine,” said Johnnie. -</p> -<p> -“I thought maybe you would n't mind, Henrietta,” said Miss Susan, “seeing -as how Johnnie tells me you and him are going to be married almost right -away.” - </p> -<p> -“Cave-man business, Henrietta,” Johnnie repeated. “You see it's no use -trying to fight me. I'm a rough one. I always have my way. An Alberson is -an Alberson.” - </p> -<p> -“But you can't do this thing!” Henrietta exclaimed. She would not be -driven in this way. “You cannot hand a child around as if he was a -chattel, passing him from one to another. There is such a thing as the -law, and there are a father's rights. A child cannot be pawned. I'll see -his father. I'll—” - </p> -<p> -Harvey Redding, waving his palm-leaf fan, opened the door that led from -the kitchen garden and came into the kitchen. Miss Susan turned her head. -</p> -<p> -“Umph!” she said scornfully. “It's about time you showed up, I expect. A -nice sort of a saint you are, ain't you? A pretty saint you are, runnin' -off no one knows where to, and—” - </p> -<p> -“Now, Susan,” said Harvey pleadingly, “I ain't no saint no more—” - </p> -<p> -“And leaving your son to be passed back and forth—” - </p> -<p> -“Now, you hold on!” said Harvey. “Don't you go tongue-lashin' me that way. -I said I was n't no saint, an' I ain't, an' I'm liable to say what I feel -like if you get me mad. You don't understand the first principles of bein' -a saint, Susan Redding, an' you've got no right to criticize one. I've -been one, an' I know. You're a nice one to talk about Lem, when all the -time I've been wearin' my brain to a frazzle tryin' to figger out what -would be best for him, goin' an' mortifying my flesh so I could be a saint -an' he could be proud of me, an' goin' into the junk business an' out of -it an' into it again. Don't you talk about saints! Why, dod-baste it, -Susan! I'm more of a saint now that I ain't one than I was when I was one. -Ain't I brought you the money right now to redeem Lem back?” - </p> -<p> -“You brought the money?” - </p> -<p> -Harvey tossed it into his sister's lap with a grand gesture. -</p> -<p> -“Money!” he puffed. “Count it! Ain't I brought it to you? An' ain't I gone -an' give up my only son to Mr. Alberson here to keep forever, tearin' my -feelin's to pieces for Lem's good so that boy could be raised up an -Alberson? Ain't I signed a paper so that Mr. Alberson here can adopt Lem? -An' you say I'm a nice sort of saint! Dod-baste it, I ain't either a nice -sort of saint!” - </p> -<p> -Henrietta's face did redden now. -</p> -<p> -“Are you going to do that?” she asked Johnnie. “Are you going to adopt -Lem?” - </p> -<p> -“Cave-man business,” said Johnnie, grinning at her fondly. “If Lem is -willing I'm going to adopt him.” - </p> -<p> -“I 'll fetch him. There ain't no time like the present to get things -settled,” said Miss Susan. While she was gone, the three stood silent, -Johnnie still smiling at Henrietta. Harvey was the first to move. His -roving eyes caught sight of a ham, partially demolished, on a platter on -the table, and he moved toward it and cut a thick, unsaintly slice and -laid it on a slice of bread. -</p> -<p> -“Lem likes ham,” he said. “You give Lem plenty of ham and you won't have -no trouble with him. He takes after me that way.” - </p> -<p> -“Is that so, Lem?” asked Johnnie, as Lem appeared in the doorway, rubbing -his sleepy eyes with one hand and trying to hold a coat around his waist -with the other. “Do you like ham?” - </p> -<p> -“I guess so,” the boy said. “I mean, yes, sir, I do.” - </p> -<p> -“Then that's all right,” said Johnnie. “You shall have lots of ham. Lem, -how would you like me for a father?” - </p> -<p> -Lem looked towards his parent but Harvey's back was still turned. -</p> -<p> -“I'd like you all right, I guess,” said Lem. -</p> -<p> -“Fine!” said Johnnie. “That's good, you see, because I 'm going to be your -father from now on. And how would you like Miss Henrietta for a mother?” - </p> -<p> -“I'd like that fine!” said Lem, and he let his hand fall to Henrietta's -hand and grasped it. “I'd like that bully!” - </p> -<p> -He looked up at Henrietta. -</p> -<p> -“Are you goin' to be?” he asked wistfully. “I wish you would be; are you?” - </p> -<p> -Somehow Johnnie Alberson was kneeling at the other side of the boy then, -and when his arm went around Lem it went around Henrietta too. “Are you, -Henrietta?” Johnnie asked. -</p> -<p> -“Oh, yes—yes!” said Henrietta. “I am, Lem, because I love you,” and -then, much lower, she added, “and Johnnie.” - </p> -<p> -Miss Susan wiped her eyes on the edge of her apron. -</p> -<p> -Harvey, too, seemed to be affected, for he kept his back turned on the -little group by the door; but what he said was: -</p> -<p> -“Well, I got quite a long walk ahead of me, so I guess I 'll just slice -off another slice o' ham to sort o' eat on the way down. I don't never -seem able to get my fill o' ham since I was a saint.” - </p> -<p> -THE END -</p> -<div style="height: 6em;"> -<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> -</div> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of In Pawn, by Ellis Parker Butler - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN PAWN *** - -***** This file should be named 44149-h.htm or 44149-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/4/4/1/4/44149/ - -Produced by David Widger - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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