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diff --git a/old/44153-0.txt b/old/44153-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 2ee3f8f..0000000 --- a/old/44153-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,3684 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's The Adventures Of A Suburbanite, 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: The Adventures Of A Suburbanite - -Author: Ellis Parker Butler - -Illustrator: A. B. Phelan - -Release Date: November 10, 2013 [EBook #44153] -Last Updated: March 11, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ADVENTURES OF A SUBURBANITE *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger - - - - - - -THE ADVENTURES OF A SUBURBANITE - -By Ellis Parker Butler - -Illustrator: A. B. Phelan - -Garden City New York Doubleday, Page & Company - - -1911 - - - - - -I. THE PRAWLEYS - -ISOBEL was born in a flat, and that was no fault of her own; but she was -born in a flat, and reared in a flat, and married from a flat, and, for -two years after we were married, we lived in a flat; but I am not a born -flat-dweller myself, and as soon as possible I proposed that we move to -the country. Isobel hesitated, but she hesitated so weakly that on the -first of May we had bought the place at Westcote and moved into it. - -The very day I moved into my house Millington came over and said he was -glad some one had moved in, because the last man that had lived in the -house was afraid of automobiles, and would never take a spin with -him. He said he hoped I was not afraid; and when I said I was not, he -immediately proposed that we take a little spin out to Port Lafayette -as soon as I had my furniture straightened around. I thought it was very -nice and neighbourly and unusual for a man with an automobile to begin -an acquaintance that way; but I did not know Millington's automobile so -well then as I grew to know it afterward. - -I liked Millington. He was a short, Napoleon-looking man, with bulldog -jaws and not very much hair, and I was glad to have him for a -neighbour, particularly as my neighbour on the other side was a tall, -haughty-looking man. He leaned on the division fence and stared all the -while our furniture was being moved in. I spoke to Millington about him, -and all Millington said was: “Rolfs? Oh, he's no good! He won't ride in -an automobile.” - -At first, while we were really getting settled in our house, Isobel was -bright and cheerful and seemed to have forgotten flats entirely but on -the tenth of May I saw a change coming over her, and when I spoke of it -she opened her heart to me. - -“John,” she said, “I am afraid I cannot stand it. I shall try to, for -your sake, but I do not think I can. I am so lonely! I feel like an atom -floating in space.” - -“Isobel!” I said kindly but reprovingly. “With the Millingtons on one -side and the Rolfs on the other?” - -“I know,” she admitted contritely enough; “but you can't understand. -Always and always, since I was born, some one has lived overhead, -and some one has lived underneath. Sometimes only the janitor lived -underneath--” - -“Isobel,” I said, “if you will try to explain what you mean--” - -“I mean flats,” she said dolefully. “I always lived in a flat, John, and -there was always a family above and a family below, and it frightens me -to think I am in a house where there is no family above me, and not even -a janitor's family below me. It makes me feel naked, or suspended in -air, or as if there was no ground under my feet. It makes me gasp!” - -“That is nonsense!” I said. “That is the beauty of having a house. We -have it all to ourselves. Now, in a flat--” - -“We had our flat all to ourselves, John,” she reminded me; “but a flat -isn't so unbounded as a house. Just think; there is nothing between us -and the top of the sky! Not a single family! It makes me nervous. And -there is nothing beneath us!” - -“Now, my dear,” I said soothingly, “China is beneath us, and no doubt a -very respectable family is keeping house directly below.” - -Isobel sighed contentedly. - -“I am so glad you thought of that!” she cried. “Now, when I feel lonely, -I can imagine I feel the house jar as the Chinese family move their -piano, or I can imagine that I hear their phonograph.” - -“Very good,” I said; “and if you can imagine all that, why cannot you -imagine a family overhead, too? The whole attic is there. Very well; I -give up the entire attic to your imagination.” - -Then I kissed her and went into the back garden. My opinion is that the -man that laid out that back garden was over-sanguine. I am passionately -fond of gardening, and believe in back gardens; but at the present -price of seed and the present hardness of hoe handles, I think that back -garden is too large. This is not a mere flash opinion, either; it is -a matter of study. The first day I stuck spade into that garden I had -given little thought to its size, but by the time I had spaded all day -I began to have a pretty well-defined opinion of gardens and how large -they should be, and by the end of the third day of spading I believe -I may say I was well equipped to testify as an expert on garden sizes. -That was the day the blisters on my hands became raw. - -[Illustration: 25] - -The day after my little conversation with Isobel I returned home from -business to find her awaiting me at the gate. She wore a bright smile, -and she put her hand through my arm and hopped into step with me. - -“John,” she said cheerfully, “the Prawleys moved in to-day.” - -“The Prawleys? Who are the Prawleys, and what did they move into?” I -asked. - -“Why, how do I know who they are, John?” she said. “I suppose we will -know all about them soon enough, but you can't expect me to learn all -about a family the day they move in. And as for what they moved into, of -course there was only one vacant flat.” - -“Flat? One vacant flat? What flat?” I asked. I was afraid Isobel was not -entirely herself. - -“The one above us,” she said, and then as she saw the blank look on my -face she said: “The--the--oh, John, _don't_ you understand? The attic!” - -“Hum!” I said suspiciously, looking at Isobel; but her face was so -bright, and she looked so thoroughly contented that I did not tell her -what I thought of this sort of pretending. Too much of it is not good -for a person. “Very well,” I said; “I only hope they will not be too -noisy.” - -“I don't think they will,” said Isobel, smiling. “At least not while you -are home.” She helped me off with my light coat, and when we were seated -at the table she said: “By the way, Mr. Millington leaned over the fence -this afternoon, and said he hoped you would take a little ride to Port -Lafayette with him soon. He says his automobile is in almost perfect -shape now.” - - - - -II. MR. PRAWLEY'S GARDEN - -ISOBEL was brighter at dinner than she had been for some days. She -seemed quite contented, now that the imaginary Prawleys had moved into -the attic. She said no more about them, and when I had finished my -dinner I put on my gardening togs and went out to garden awhile before -dark. Blisters are certainly most painful after a day of rest, and I did -not work long. I was almost in despair about the garden. Fully half had -not been touched, and what I had already done looked ragged and as if it -needed doing over again. The more I dug, the more great chunks of sod -I found buried in it, and it seemed as if my garden, when I had dug out -all the chunks of sod, would be a pit instead of a level. It threatened -to be a sunken garden. - -“Isobel,” I said angrily, when the sun had set and I was once more -sitting in the chair on my veranda, with my hands wrapped in wet -handkerchiefs, “you know how passionately fond of gardening I am, and -how I longed and pined for a garden for two full years, and you know, -therefore, that it takes a great deal of gardening to satisfy me; but I -must say that the man who laid out that garden must have been a man -of shameful leisure. He laid out a garden twice as large as any garden -should be.” - -“Then why do you try to work it all?” she asked. - -“Oh, work it!” I exclaimed with some irritation. “I can't let half a -garden go to weeds! That would look nice, wouldn't it! I'll work it all -right! You don't care how I suffer and struggle. You sit here--” - -The next evening when I reached home - -I did not feel particularly happy. My hands were quite raw, and my back -had sharp pains and was stiff, and I spoke gruffly to Millington when he -suggested an automobile ride to Port Lafayette for that evening. - -“No!” I said shortly. “You ought to know I can't go. I've got to kill -myself in that garden!” - -But I was resolved Isobel should never see me conquered by a patch -of ground, and after dinner I went out with my spade and hoe. When my -glance fell on the garden I stopped short. I was very angry. - -“Isobel?” I called sharply. - -She came tripping around the house and to my side. - -“Who did that?” I asked severely. I was in no mood for nonsense. - -She looked at the garden. One half of it--not the half I had struggled -with, but the other 'half--had been spaded, crushed, ridged, planted, -and left in perfect condition. The small cabbage plants had been -carefully watered. Not a grain of earth was larger than a pin head. Not -a blade of grass stuck up anywhere. Isobel looked at the garden, and -then at me. - -“I warned him!” she said. “I warned him you would be angry when you came -home! I told him you wanted to garden that half of the garden, too, and -that you would probably go right up and give him a piece of your mind, -but he insisted that he had a right to half the garden, and--” - -“_Who_ insisted that he had a right to half my garden?” I demanded. - -“Why,” said Isobel, as if surprised at the question, “Mr. Prawley did.” - -“Prawley? Prawley? I don't know any Prawley!” - -“Don't you know the Prawleys that moved into the flat above us?” said -Isobel. “And he is a very nice man, too,” she continued. “He was not at -all rude. He merely insisted, in a quiet way, that as he was a tenant -and as there was only one back garden, and two families in the house, he -was entitled to half the garden.” - -She did not give me a chance to speak, but ran on in that vein, while -I stood and looked at the garden and, among other things, thought of my -blistered hands and my lame back. - -“Well and good, Isobel,” I said at length. “I do not wish to have -anything to say to the Prawleys, nor do I wish to quarrel with them, and -since he demands half the garden you may tell him he is welcome to it. -I cannot conceal that in taking half of it away from me he has robbed -me of just that much passionate happiness, and you may tell him I do not -like the way he gardens, but I will say no more about it!” - -“Oh, you dear old John!” said Isobel. “And now you shall not touch that -miserable garden with your poor sore hands. You shall just sit on the -veranda with me and let me bathe your palms with witch hazel.” Although -I assumed an air of sternness in speaking to Isobel of Mr. Prawley I -was glad to be able to humour her, for she seemed so much happier after -beginning to pretend that the Prawley family occupied the attic of our -house. Giving in to these harmless little whims of our wives does much -to make life pleasanter for them--and for us--and as long as Mr. Prawley -left me my own half of the garden I could not be discontented. One half -of that garden was really all a man should attempt to garden, no matter -how passionately fond of gardening he might be. - -It is fine to be the owner of a bit of soil and to feel the joy of -possession, but it is still more delightful to be able to see one's -own garden truck springing into life after one has dug and planted and -weeded and cultivated with one's own hands. I had no greater desire in -life than to devote all my spare time to my garden, but a man must give -his health some attention, and Isobel pointed out that if I gardened but -one half of the garden I would have time to ride to Port Lafayette with -Millington in his automobile now and then, and as Port Lafayette is on -the salt water the air would be good for me. - -Port Lafayette is about eleven miles from Westcote, and I had often -wished to go to Port Lafayette, but Millington is absurdly jealous. Of -course, I could have taken Isobel by train in about one half hour, or -I could walk it in two or three hours, or drive there in an hour; but -I knew that would hurt Millington's feelings. He would take it as an -insult to his automobile. - -But now I told Isobel that as soon as my garden got into reasonable -shape we would go to Port Lafayette with Millington. Isobel told me -that my health was more important than radishes, and reasoned that a few -weeds in a garden were not a bad thing. Weeds, she said, grow rapidly, -while vegetables are modest and retiring things, and she considered that -a few weeds in my half of the garden might set a good example to the -vegetables. - -Mr. Prawley evidently held a different view, for he did not allow a -single weed to raise its head in his half of the garden, and I told -Isobel, rather sharply, that his idea was the right one, and that I -should weed my garden every evening until there was not a weed in it. - -“But, John,” she said, “I have never ridden in an automobile, and it -would be a great treat for me.” - -“No doubt,” I groaned--I was weeding in my garden at the moment--“but, -treat or no treat, I am not going to have this half of the garden look -like a forest.” - -“I know you enjoy it,” she began, but I silenced her. - -“I am passionately fond of gardening,” I said, “and I have told you so a -million times. Now will you leave me alone to enjoy it, or won't you?” - -She went into the house and left me enjoying it alone. - -The very next evening, when I looked into my half of the garden, I found -it weeded and put into the best of shape, and when I hunted up Isobel, -angry indeed at having so much pleasure taken from me, she did not dare -look me in the eye. - -“Isobel,” I said sharply, “what is the meaning of this?” - -“John,” she said meekly, “I am afraid I am to blame. You know Mr. -Prawley does not like automobile riding--” - -“I know nothing of the kind, Isobel,” I said. “I know I am passionately -fond of gardening, and that some one has robbed me of the pleasure I -have looked forward to for years: the joy of weeding my own garden on my -own land.” - -“Mr. Prawley does not like automobile riding,” continued Isobel, “and -he came to me this morning and told me his health was so poor that his -doctor had told him nothing but gardening could save his life. When he -showed the garden to his doctor, the doctor told him he was not getting -half enough gardening--that he must garden twice as much. I told Mr. -Prawley he could not have your half of the garden, because you were -passionately fond of it--” - -“True, Isobel!” I said, rubbing my back at the lamest spot. - -“But he begged on his knees, saying that while it was only a pleasure -for you, it was life and health for him, and when his wife wept, I had -not the heart to refuse. He said he would make a fair exchange, and that -as he was an anti-vegetarian you could have all the vegetables that grew -in your own half, and all that grew in his, too.” - -“Isobel,” I said, taking her hand, “this is a great, great -disappointment to me. It robs me of a pleasure of which I may say I -am passionately fond, but I cannot disown a contract made by my little -wife. Mr. Prawley may garden my half of the garden.” - -I must admit that the Prawleys were ideal tenants. Not a sound came from -his floor of the house. Indeed, I did not see him nor his family at -all. But during my days in town he and Isobel seemed to have many -conversations, and she was so tender-hearted and easily moved that one -by one she let Mr. Prawley take all the outdoor work of which I may -rightly claim to be passion--to be exceedingly fond. - -Mowing the lawn is one of the things in which I delight. I ardently love -pushing the lawn mower, and if, occasionally, I allowed the grass to -grow rather long, it was only because I was saving the pleasure of -cutting it, as a child saves the icing of its cake for the last sweet -bite. I remember remarking, quite in joke, one morning, that the -confounded lawn needed mowing again, and that the grass seemed to do -nothing but grow, and that I'd probably have to break my back over it -when I got home that evening. But when I reached home that evening I -suspected that Isobel must have taken my little joke as earnest, for the -lawn was nicely mown and the edges trimmed. It seemed, when I questioned -Isobel, that Mr. Prawley's doctor was not satisfied with his progress -and had assured him that lawn mowing was necessary for his complete -recovery. Thus Isobel allowed Mr. Prawley to usurp another of my -pleasures. - -So, one by one, the outdoor tasks of which I am so passionately -fond were wrested from me. I allowed them to go because I thought it -necessary to humour Isobel in her pretence that some family occupied -a flat above us, and all seemed well; and we were ready to go to Port -Lafayette in Mr. Millington's automobile whenever it was ready to take -us, when one day in June I happened to notice that our grass was getting -unusually long and untidy. - -“Isobel,” I said, “I have humoured Mr. Prawley, abandoning to him all -the outdoor chores of which I am so passionately fond, but if he is to -do this lawn I want him to do it, and not neglect it shamefully. I will -not have it looking like this!” - -“But, John--” she began. - -“I tell you, Isobel,” I said, with rising anger, “I won't have it! -I'll stand a good deal, but when I have robbed myself of my greatest -pleasure, and then see the other man neglecting it, I rebel. If this -goes on I'll forget that Mr. Prawley has bad health. I'll enjoy cutting -the lawn myself!” - -“John,” said Isobel, throwing her arms about my neck, “you will be so -glad! I have good news to tell you! The Prawleys have moved away! Now -you can do all your own hoeing and mowing.” - -“The Prawleys have moved away?” I gasped. - -“Yes,” she said cheerfully, “and now you can garden all the garden, and -cut all the lawn and rake all the walks, and weed, and do all the things -you are so fond of doing.” - -“Isobel,” I said sternly, “if I thought only of myself I would indeed be -glad. But I cannot have my little wife fearing the empty flat above her. -You must immediately hire another--er--get another family.” - -“But I shall not be nervous any more, John,” she said; “and it is a -shame to deprive you of the outdoor work.” - -I looked out upon the large lawn and the large garden. - -“No, Isobel,” I said, “you must take no chances. You may not think you -will be nervous, but the feeling may return. If you do not get a family -to move in, I shall!” - -I rubbed the palms of my hands where the blisters had been, and thought -of the middle of my back where the pains and aches had congregated. I -was ready to sacrifice my passionate longing for outdoor work once more -for Isobel's sake. - -[Illustration: 45] - -“Well,” she said thoughtfully, “I know of an excellent coloured man in -Lower Westcote, that we can hire by the day--I mean that we can get to -move into the flat--but I can hardly afford, with my present allowance, -to pay his wages--that is, I mean--” - -“For some time, Isobel,” I said hastily, “I have been thinking your -allowance was too small. You must have a--a great many household -expenses of which I know nothing.” - -“I have,” she said simply. - -That evening when I returned from the city I saw that the lawn grass -had been cut so closely that it looked as if the lawn had been shaved. -Isobel ran to meet me. - -“John!” she cried; “John! Who do you think has moved into the flat -overhead?” - -“Dear me!” I exclaimed. “How should I know?” - -“The Prawleys!” she cried. “The Prawleys have moved back again. Are you -not glad?” - -I concealed my chagrin. I hid the sorrow with which I saw my passionate -fondness for outdoor work once more defeated of its object. - -“Isobel,” I said, “I wish you would tell Mr. Prawley's doctor to tell -Mr. Prawley that it is imperative for Mr. Prawley's best health that Mr. -Prawley dig the grass out of the gravel walks to-morrow. Tell him--” - -“I told him this evening to do the walks the first thing in the -morning,” said Isobel innocently, “and when he has done them I am going -to have him help Mary wash the windows.” - - - - -III. THE EQUINE PALACE - -“NOW that Mr. Prawley is back,” I told Isobel, “we can take that trip to -Port Lafayette with Millington,” and it was then Isobel mentioned the -advisability of keeping a horse; but Millington and I, not being afraid -of automobiles, began to go to Port Lafayette in his automobile. As a -rule we began to go every day, and sometimes twice a day, and I must say -for Millington's automobile that it was one of the most patient I have -ever seen. Patient and willing are the very words. It would start for -Port Lafayette as willingly as anything, and go along as patiently as -possible. It was a very patient goer. Haste had no charms for it. - -Millington used to come over bright and early and say cheerfully, “Well, -how would you like to take a little run out to Port Lafayette to-day?” - and I would get my cap, and we would go over to his garage and get into -the machine. Then Millington would pull a lever or two, and begin to -listen for noises indicative of internal disorders. As a rule, they -began immediately, but sometimes he would not hear anything that could -be called really serious until we reached the corner of the block. Once, -I remember, and I shall never forget the date, we went three miles -before Millington stopped the car and got out his wrenches and -antiseptic bandages and other surgical tools; but usually the noises -began inside of the block. Then we would push it home, and postpone the -trip for that day, while Millington laboured over the automobile. - -“We will get to Port Lafayette yet,” he would say hopefully. - -As soon as Isobel mentioned keeping a horse I knew she was beginning to -like suburban life, and I was delighted. Having lived all her life in a -flat, her mind naturally ran to theatres and roof gardens, rather than -to the delights of the suburbs, and her reading still consisted more of -department store bargain sales and advertisements of new plays than -of seed catalogues and ready mixed paints, as a good suburban wife's -reading should; but as soon as she mentioned that it would be nice -to have a horse I knew she was at length falling a victim to the -allurements of our semi-country existence. In order to add fuel to the -flame I took up the suggestion with enthusiasm. - -“Isobel,” I said warmly, “that is a splendid idea! A horse is just -what we need to add the finishing touch to our happiness! With these -splendid, tree-bordered roads--” - -“A horse that is not afraid of Mr. Millington's automobile,” interposed -Isobel. - -“Certainly,” I said, “a horse that you can drive without fear--” - -“But not a pokey old thing,” said Isobel. - -“By no means,” I agreed; “what we want is a young, fresh horse that can -get over the road--” - -“And gentle,” said Isobel. “And strong. And he must be a good-looking -horse. One with a glossy skin. Reddish brown, with a long tail. I -would like a great, big, strong-looking horse, like the Donelleys', but -faster, like the Smiths'.” - -“Exactly,” I said. “That's the sort of horse I had in mind. And we will -get the horse immediately. I shall stay at home tomorrow and select -the kind of horse we want, unless Mr. Millington takes me to Port -Lafayette--” - -“Now, John,” said Isobel, “you must not be too hasty. You must be -careful. I think the right way to buy a horse is to shop a little first, -and see what people have in stock, and not take the first thing that is -offered, the way you do when you buy shirts. You know how hideous some -of those last shirts are, and the arms far too long, and we don't want -anything like that to happen when you are buying a horse. I have been -talking to Mrs. Rolfs, and she says it is mere folly to buy the first -horse that is offered. Mrs. Rolfs says it stands to reason that a man -who wants to get rid of a horse would be the first man to offer it. As -soon as he learned we wanted a horse he would rush to us with the horse, -so as not to lose the chance of getting rid of it. And Mrs. Millington -says it is worse than foolish to wait until the very last horse is -offered and then buy that one, for the man that hung back in that way -would undoubtedly be the man that did not particularly care to part with -his horse, and would feel that he was doing us a favour, and would ask -a perfectly unreasonable price. The thing to do, John, is to buy, as -nearly as possible, the middle horse that is offered. If twenty-one -horses were offered the thing to do would be to buy the eleventh horse, -and in that way we would be sure to get a good horse at a reasonable -price.” - -I told Isobel that what she said was perfectly logical, and that I would -get right to work and frame up an advertisement for the local paper, -saying we wanted a horse and would be glad to examine twenty-one of -them. - -“Now, wait a minute,” she said, when I had started for my desk, “and -don't be in too great a hurry. You know the mistake you made in those -last socks you bought, by going into the first store you came to, and -the very first time you put on those socks they wore full of holes. We -don't want a horse that will wear like that. Mrs. Rolfs says we must be -very particular what sort of man we buy our horse from. She says it is -like suicide to buy a horse from a dealer, because a dealer knows so -much more about horses than we do, and is up to so many tricks, that he -would have no trouble at all in fooling us, and we would probably get a -horse that was worth nothing at all. And Mrs. Millington says it is the -greatest mistake in the world to buy a horse from an ordinary suburban -commuter. She says commuters know nothing at all about horses and just -buy them blindfold, and that, if we buy a horse from a commuter, we are -sure to get a worthless horse that the commuter has had foisted upon him -and is anxious to get rid of. The person to buy a horse of, John, is a -person that knows all about horses, but who is not a dealer.” - -“My idea exactly,” I told Isobel, and started for my desk again. - -“John, dear,” said Isobel, before I had taken two steps, “why are you -always so impetuous? Of course I want a horse, and I would like to have -it as soon as possible, but I believe in exercising a little common -sense. Where, may I ask, are you going to keep the horse when you have -got him?” - -Now, this had not occurred to me, but I answered promptly. - -“I shall put him out to board,” I said unhesitatingly, and there was -really nothing else I could say, for there was no stable on my place. I -know plenty of suburbanites who keep horses and have them boarded at the -livery stables. But this did not please Isobel. - -“You must do nothing of the kind!” said Isobel firmly. “Mrs. Rolfs and -Mrs. Millington both say there is nothing worse for a good horse than -to put it out to board. Mrs. Rolfs says it is much cheaper to keep your -horse in your own bam, and Mrs. Millington says she would have a very -low opinion of any man who would trust his horse to a liveryman. She -says the horse is man's most faithful servant, and should be treated -as such, and that she has not the least doubt that the liveryman -would underfeed our horse, and then let it out to hire to some young -harum-scarum, who would whip it into a gallop until it got overheated, -and then water it when it was so hot the water would sizzle in its -stomach, creating steam and giving it a bad case of colic. And Mrs. -Rolfs says the liveryman would be pleased with this, rather than sorry, -for then he would have to call in the veterinary, who would divide his -fee with the liveryman. So, you see, we must keep our horse in our own -stable.” - -“But, my dear,” I protested, “we have no stable.” - -“Then we must build one,” said Isobel with decision. “Mrs. Rolfs, as -soon as she heard we were going to keep a horse, lent me a magazine with -a picture of a very nice stable, and Mrs. Millington lent me another -magazine with some excellent hints on how a modern stable should be -arranged, and I think, with all the modern methods of doing things -rapidly, we might have our stable all complete in a week, or ten days at -the most.” - -[Illustration: 61] - -When I looked at Mrs. Rolfs's picture of a stable I felt immediately -that it would not suit my purse. I admitted to Isobel that it was a -handsome stable, and that the cupola with the weather vane looked very -well indeed, and that the idea of having two wings extended from the -main building to form a sort of court was a good one; but I told her -it would inconvenience the traffic on the street before our house if we -moved our house far enough into the street to permit putting a stable of -that size in our back-yard. I also told her, as gently as I could, that -the style of architecture did not suit our house, for while our house -is a plain house, the stable recommended by Mrs. Rolfs was pressed brick -and stained shingles, with a slate roof. I also pointed out to Isobel -that one horse hardly needed a stable of that size, and that even a very -large horse would feel lonely in the main building. - -I remarked jocosely that it would be well enough, if we could keep two -or three grooms with nothing to do but hunt through the stable, trying -to find the horse. If we could afford to do that, it would be a pleasure -to awaken in the morning and have one of the grooms come running to us -with the light of joy on his face, saying, “What do you think, sir? - -“But I told her it would inconvenience the traffic on the street before -our house if we moved our house far enough into the street to permit -putting a stable of that size in our backyard.” - -Isobel smiled in a wan, sad way at this, so I did not say, as I had -intended saying if she had received my joke well, that the only horse -requiring wings was Pegasus, and that he furnished his own. - -Instead, I took up Mrs. Millington's article on the modern stable. -It was a masterly article, indeed, and it spoke highly of the gravity -stable. No hay forks, no pitching up forage, no elevating feed, no -loading of manure from a heap into a wagon. No, indeed! Everything must -go down; the natural law of gravitation must do the work. Three stories, -with the rear of the stable against the side of the hill. Drive your -feed into the top story and unload it. Slide it down into the second -story to the horse. Through a trap in the stall the manure falls into a -wagon waiting to receive it. - -There were other details--electric lights, silver-mounted chains, -and other little things--but I did not pay much attention to them. I -explained to Isobel that it would be difficult to build a firm, -solid hill, large enough to back a three-story stable against, in our -backyard. Of course, there were plenty of hills in our part of Long -Island that were lying idle and might be had at low cost, but it costs -a great deal to move a hill, and all of them were so large they would -overlap our property and bury the homes of Mr. Rolfs and Mr. Millington. -This did not greatly impress Isobel, however, and I had to come out -firmly and tell her it would be impossible to build a stable three -stories high, with two wings, pressed brick, shingle walls, slate roof, -and a weather vane, and at the same time erect a nice hill and buy a -horse and rig, all with one thousand dollars, which was all the money I -could afford to spend. - -When I put it that way, and gave her her choice of one thousand dollars' -worth of hill, or one thousand dollars' worth of stable, or one thousand -dollars' worth of assorted horse, stable, and rig, she chose the last, -and only remarked that she would insist on the weather vane and the -manure pit. She said that Mrs. Rolfs had taken such an interest, -bringing over the magazine, that it was only right to have the weather -vane, at least; and that Mrs. Millington had been so interested and kind -that the very least we could do was to have the manure pit. - -“And another thing,” said Isobel, “Mr. Prawley is going to move out of -the flat overhead.” - -“Great Cæsar!” I exclaimed. “Is that man quitting again? Isn't he -getting enough wages?” - -“Wages?” said Isobel. “Nothing has been said about wages. But this -Mr. Prawley will not stay if we buy a horse. He says he does not mind -gardening your garden and mowing your lawn and taking all your other -outdoor exercise for you, but that a horse once reached over the side of -the stall and bit him, and he doesn't want to work--to live in a place -where horses are liable to bite him at any time without a minute's -notice.” - -“Tell that fellow,” I said, “that we will get a horse that doesn't bite, -or that we will muzzle the horse, or--” - -“It would be easier,” said Isobel, “to--to have a Prawley move in who -was not afraid of horses. I know of a man in East Westcote, and he has -had experience with horses--” - -“Very well,” I said. “I suppose you will wish your allowance increased?” - -“Yes,” said Isobel, “if the new Mr. Prawley moves into the flat -overhead, I will need about five dollars a month more than you have been -allowing me.” - - - - -IV. “BOB” - -THE next morning I stayed at home to see about getting the stable built -in a hurry, but before I had finished breakfast Millington came over and -said it was an ideal day for a little spin up to Port Lafayette in his -automobile. He said the whole machine was in perfect order and we would -dash out to Port Lafayette, have a bath in the salt water, and come -spinning back, and he told Isobel and me to get on our hats, and he -would have the car before the door in a minute. - -Isobel and I hastily finished our coffee and put on our hats and went -out to the gate, for, although we were very eager to build the stable, -we did not like to offend Millington by refusing his invitation, when -he had asked us so often to go to Port Lafayette. In half an hour he -arrived at the gate, and we climbed in. - -Our usual custom, on these trips to Port Lafayette, was for Millington -and me to sit in front, while Isobel and Mrs. Millington sat in the -rear. There was a nice little gate in the rear by which they could -enter. - -You see, Millington's automobile was just a little old. I should not go -so far as to say it was the first automobile ever made. It was probably -the thirteenth, and Millington was probably the thirteenth owner. I know -it had four cylinders, because Millington was constantly remarking that -only three were working. Sometimes only one worked, and sometimes that -one did not. - -When we were all comfortably arranged in our seats, and all snugly -tucked in, Millington cranked the machine for half an hour, and then -remarked regretfully that this was one of the days none of the cylinders -was working, and we got out again. - -Mr. Rolfs had come out to see us start, and he helped Millington and -me push the automobile back to the Millington garage; and as I walked -homeward he said he had heard I was going to buy a horse, and he wanted -to give me a little advice. - -“Probably you have not given much attention to the subject of -deforestation,” he said, “but I have, and it is the great crime of our -age.” - -I told him I did not see what that had to do with my purchasing a horse, -but he said it had everything to do with it. - -“When you buy a horse, you have to erect a stable,” he said, “and when -you erect a stable, you have to buy lumber, and when you have to -buy lumber, you suffer in your purse because the forests have been -ruthlessly destroyed. As a friend and neighbour I would not have you go -and purchase poor lumber, and with it build a stable that will rot to -pieces in a few years. You must buy the best lumber, and that is too -expensive to use recklessly. I want to warn you particularly about wire -nails. Do not let your builder use them. They loosen in a short time -and allow the boards to warp and crack. Personally, if I were building -a stable I should have the ends of the boards dovetailed, and instead of -nails I should use ash pegs, but I understand you do not wish to go to -great expense, so screws will do. Let it be part of your contract that -not a nail shall be used in your stable--nothing but screws, and if you -can afford brass screws, so much the better. But remember, no nails!” - -I thanked Rolfs, and when Millington came over to invite me to take a -little run up to Port Lafayette the next morning I told him what Mr. -Rolfs had said. - -“Now that is just like Rolfs,” he said, “impractical as the day is long. -Screws would not do at all. The carpenters would drive the screws with -a hammer, and the screws would crack the wood. Take my advice and let it -be part of your contract that not a screw is to be used in your stable; -nothing but wire nails. _But_ stipulate long wire nails; wire nails so -long that they will go clear through and clinch on the other side, and -then see that each and every nail is clinched. If you do this you will -have no trouble with split lumber and not a board will work loose.” - -When I spoke to the builder about the probable cost of the stable, I was -sorry I had been so lenient with Isobel, and that I had not put my foot -down on the weather vane at once. A weather vane does not add to the -comfort of a family horse, and the longer I spoke with the builder the -surer I became that what I needed was not a lot of gimcracks, but a -plain, simple, story-and-a-half affair, with the chaste architectural -lines of a dry-goods box. I mentioned, casually, the hints Mr. Rolfs -and Mr. Millington had given me, but the builder did not seem very -enthusiastic about them. He snorted in a peculiar way and then said that -if I was going in for that sort of thing I could get better results by -having no nails or screws at all. He said I could have holes bored -in the boards with a gimlet, and have the stable laced together with -rawhide thongs, but that when I got ready to talk business in a sensible -way, I could let him know. He said this was his busy day, and that his -office was not a lunatic asylum. - -I managed to calm him in less than half an hour, and he remained quite -docile until I mentioned Isobel and said she hoped he would have the -stable ready for the horse within a week. It took me much longer to calm -him that time. For a few moments I feared for his reason. But he quieted -down. - -Then I showed him a plan I had drawn, showing the working of the manure -dump, and this had quite a different effect on him. It pleased him -immensely, as I could see by his face. I explained how it operated; how -throwing a catch allowed one end of the stall floor to drop, while the -other end of the stall floor was held in place by hinges, and he said it -was certainly a new idea. He asked me whether it was Mr. Rolfs's idea -or Mr. Millington's, and when I told him I had worked out the plan -myself, he said he had rather thought so. - -“It is just such a plan as I should expect a man of your intelligence to -work out,” he said. - -Then he asked to see my bank-book, and when I had shown him just how -much money I had, he said the best way to build the stable was by the -day. If it was built by the job, he explained, a builder naturally had -to hurry the job, and things were not done as carefully as I wished -them done; but if it was done by the day, every hammer stroke would be -carefully made, and I could pay every evening for the work done that -day. - -About the third week of the building operations those careful hammer -strokes began to get on my nerves. I never knew hammer strokes so -carefully considered and so cautiously delivered. The carpenters were -most careful about them, and several times I spoke to the builder and -suggested that if shorter nails were used perhaps it would not take -so many strokes of the hammer to drive them in. I told him, if he was -willing, I was willing to have the rest of the stable done by the job, -but he said it had gone too far for that. - -There were two men working on my stable--“two souls with but a single -thought,” Isobel called them--and they were hard thinkers. The two of -them would take hold of a board, one at either end, and hold it in -their hands, and look at it, and think. I do not know what they thought -about--deforestation, probably--but they would think for ten minutes -and then put the board gently to one side and think about another board. -They did their thinking, as they did their work, by the day. - -[Illustration: 77] - -We had plenty of time in which to select our horse while our stable was -building. My advertisement in the local paper brought a horse to my door -the morning after it appeared, and no horse could have suited me quite -so well as that one, but I was resolute and firm. I told the man--he was -not a dealer nor yet a commuter, and my conversation with him showed me -that he knew just enough, and not too much, about horses--that I liked -his horse very well indeed, but that I could not purchase it.. At -this he seemed downcast, and I did not blame him. He seemed to take my -refusal as some sort of personal insult, for the horse was young, large, -strong, gentle, and speedy, and the price was right; but every time -I began to weaken Isobel said, “John, remember number eleven!” and I -refrained from purchasing that horse. I finally sent the man away with -warm expressions of my esteem for him as a man, but that did not seem to -cheer him much. - -An hour later another man brought another horse, and I sent him away -also, as was my duty, for he was only number two; but he was hardly gone -when horse number one appeared again. I saw at once that I was going -to have trouble with that man. He was so sure he had the horse I wanted -that he would not go away and stay away. He kept coming back, and each -time he went away sadder than before. He was a sad-looking man, anyway, -and he would sit in his buggy and talk to me until another horse was -driven up, and then he would sigh and drive down to the corner, and sit -and look at me reproachfully until the other man drove away again. Then -he would drive back and reproach me, with tears in his eyes, for not -buying his horse. By lunch time I was almost worn out, and I told Isobel -as much when I looked out of the window and saw that handsome horse and -his sad driver waiting patiently at my gate. I told her I was tempted to -take that horse, Mrs. Rolfs or no Mrs. Rolfs. - -“Take that horse?” said Isobel, as if my words surprised her. “Why, of -course we are going to take that horse!” - -“But, my dear,” I said, “after what you told me about taking the -eleventh horse?” - -“Certainly,” said Isobel. “What is this but the eleventh horse? It came -first, and then another horse came, and then this one came third, and -then some other horse came, and then this one came fifth, and so on, and -now it is standing there at the gate, the eleventh horse. Certainly we -will buy this horse.” - -“Isobel,” I said, “we might quite as well have bought it the first time -it was driven to our gate as this time.” - -“Not at all,” she said; “that would have been an altogether different -thing. If we had taken the first horse that was offered we would have -regretted it all our lives; but now we can take this horse and feel -perfectly safe.” - -Bob--that was the name of the horse--fitted into our stable pretty well. -He had to bend rather sharply in the middle to get out of his stall, but -he was quite limber for a horse of his age and size, so he managed -it very well. A stiffer horse might have broken in two or have been -permanently bent. The stall was so economically built that a large, -long horse like Bob stuck out of it like a long ship in a short dock; he -stuck out so far that we had to go around through the carriage room to -get on the other side of him. Our new Mr. Prawley did not mind this. He -was willing to spend all the time necessary going from one bit of work -to another. - -There was one advantage in having the stable and everything about it on -a small scale--it lessened the depth of the manure pit. The very first -night we put Bob in his stall we heard a loud noise in the stable. -Isobel suggested that we had overfed Bob, and that he had swelled out -and pressed out the sides of the stable, but I thought it more likely -that the weather-boarding had slipped loose. I had seen the thoughtful -carpenters putting that weather-boarding on the stable. But Isobel and I -were both wrong. Bob had merely dropped into the manure pit. - -I was glad then that I had chosen a strong horse, for he did not seem -to mind the drop in the least. He stood there with his front feet in the -basement, as you might say, and with his rear feet upstairs, quite as -if that was his usual way of standing. After that he often fell into the -manure pit, and he always took it good-naturedly. He got so he expected -it, after awhile, and if his stall floor did not drop once a day, he -became restless and took no interest in his food. Usually, during the -day, Bob and Mr. Prawley dropped into the basement together while Mr. -Prawley was currying Bob, but at night, when we heard Bob calling us in -the homesick, whinnying tone, and kicking his heels against the side -of the stable, we knew what he wanted, and to prevent him kicking the -stable to ruins, we--Isobel and I--would go out and drop him into the -basement a couple of times. Then he would be satisfied. - -There was but one thing we feared: Bob might become so fond of having -his forefeet in the basement and his rear feet upstairs, that he would -stand no other way, and in course of time his front legs would have to -lengthen enough to let his head reach his manger, or his neck would have -to stretch. Either would give him the general appearance of a giraffe. -While this would be neat for show purposes, it would attract almost too -much attention in a family horse. I have no doubt this is the way the -giraffe acquired its peculiar construction, but we were able to avoid -it, for we awoke one night when Bob made an unaided descent into the -manure pit, and when we went to aid him we found he had descended at -both ends, on account of the economical hinges used on the drop floor -of the stall of our equine palace. Bob showed in every way that he had -enjoyed that drop more than any drop he had ever taken, but I drew the -line there. I had other things to do more important than conducting a -private Coney Island for a horse. If Bob had been a colt I might not -have been so stern about it, but I will not pamper a staid old family -horse by operating shoot-the-chutes and loop-the-loops for him at two -o'clock in the morning. - -“Isobel,” I said, “if that horse is to continue in my stable you may -tell Mr. Prawley that it is necessary for his health that he sleep in -the stable-loft hereafter. It will be good exercise for him to get up at -midnight and pull Bob out of the manure pit.” - -“This present Mr. Prawley will not do it,” said Isobel. “He has a wife -and family at East Westcote, and he--” - -“Very well,” I said, “then get another Mr. Prawley!” - -Of the new Mr. Prawley it is necessary to speak a few words. - - - - -V. THE NEW MR. PRAWLEY - - -THE new Mr. Prawley (by this time a family, but we still clung to the -name Prawley, just as all coloured waiters are called “George”) was a -most unusual man. - -For a month before we hired him he had been trying to undermine Isobel's -faith in the Mr. Prawley from East Westcote. He had called at the house -two or three times a week. At first he merely asked for the job of -man-of-all-work, as any applicant might have asked for it, but he soon -began speaking of our Prawley in the most damaging terms. I believe -there was hardly a crime or misdemeanour that he did not lay at the door -of our Mr. Prawley, and so insistent was he that Isobel and I had ceased -to speak of him as living in our attic. - -Isobel decided the two men must be deadly enemies, and that this -fellow was set on hounding our Mr. Prawley from pillar to post, like an -avenging angel. She concluded that this man must have been frightfully -wronged by our Mr. Prawley, and that he had sworn to dog his footsteps -to the grave. - -But when she let our Mr. Prawley go and hired this new Mr. Prawley, -his interest in his predecessor ceased entirely. In place of the eager, -longing look his face had worn, he now wore a thin, satisfied look, -which I can best describe as that of a hungry jackal licking his chops. -Mr. Prawley--his name, he told us, was Duggs, Alonzo Duggs, but we -called him Mr. Prawley--was a tall, lean, villanous-looking fellow, with -a red, pointed beard, and at times when he leaned on the division fence -and looked into Mr. Millington's yard I could see his fingers opening -and shutting like the claws of a bird of prey. He seemed to hate Mr. -Millington With a deep but hidden hatred, and often, when Mr. Millington -was preparing to take Isobel and me to Port Lafayette, Mr. Prawley would -stand and grit his teeth in the most unpleasant manner. When I spoke -to Mr. Prawley about it he said, “It isn't Mr. Millington. It is the -automobile. I hate automobiles!” - -For that matter, I was beginning to hate them myself. Many a pleasant -ride behind Bob did I have to sacrifice because Millington insisted that -we take a little run up to Port Lafayette with him and Mrs. Millington. -We would all get into his car, and Millington would pull his cap down -tight, and begin to frown and cock his head on one side to hear signs of -asthma or heart throbs or whatever the automobile might take a notion to -have that day. And off we would go! - -I tell you, it was exhilarating. After all there is nothing like -motoring. We would roll smoothly down the street, with Millington -frowning like a pirate all the way, and then suddenly he would hear the -noise he was listening for, and he would stop frowning, and jerk a lever -that stopped the car, and hop out with a satisfied expression, and begin -to whistle, and open the car in eight places, and take out an assorted -hardware store, and adhesive tape, and blankets, and oil cans, and -hatchets, and axes, and get to work on the car as happy as a babe; and -Mrs. Millington and Isobel and I would walk home. - -The sight of an automobile seemed to madden Mr. Prawley, but otherwise -he was the meekest of men, and a good example of this was the manner in -which he behaved at our Christmas party. - -The idea of having a good, old-fashioned Christmas house party for our -city friends was Isobel's idea, but the moment she mentioned it I adopted -it, and told her we would have Jimmy Dunn out. Jimmy Dunn is one of -those rare men that have acquired the suburban-visit habit. Usually when -we suburbanites invite a city friend to spend the week-end with us, the -city friend balks. - -Into his frank eyes comes a furtive, shifty look as he tries to think -of an adequate lie to serve as an excuse for not coming, but Jimmy was -taken in hand when he was young and flexible, and he has become meek and -docile under adversity, as I might say. When any one invites Jimmy to -the suburbs he hardly makes a struggle. I suppose it is because of the -gradual weakening of his will power. - -“Good!” I said. “We will have Jimmy Dunn out over Christmas.” - -“Oh! Jimmy Dunn!” scoffed Isobel gently. “Of course we will have Jimmy, -but what I mean is to have a lot of people--ten at least--and we must -have at least two lovers, because they will look so well in that little -alcove room off the parlour, and we can go in and surprise them once -in a while. And we will have a Santa Claus, and lots of holly and -mistletoe, and a tree with all sorts of foolish presents on it for every -one, and--” - -“Splendid!” I cried less enthusiastically. - -“Now as for the ten--” - -“Well,” said Isobel, “we will have Jimmy Dunn--” - -“That is what I suggested,” I said meekly. “We will have Jimmy Dunn,” - repeated Isobel, “and then we will have--we will have--I wonder who we -could get to come out. Mary might come, if she wasn't in Europe.” - -“That would make two,” I said cheerfully, “if she wasn't in Europe.” - “And we must have a Yule-log!” exclaimed Isobel. “A big, blazing -Yule-log, to drink wassail in front of, and to sing carols around.” - I told Isobel that, as nearly as I could judge, the fireplaces in our -house had not been constructed for big, blazing Yule-logs. I reminded -her that when I had spoken to the last owner about having a grate fire -he had advised us, with great excitement, not to attempt anything so -rash. He had said that if we were careful we might have a gas-log, -provided it was a small one and we did not turn on the gas full force, -and were sure our insurance was placed in a good, reliable company. He -had said that if we were careful about those few things, and kept a -pail of water on the roof in case of emergency, we might use a gas-log, -provided we extinguished it as soon as we felt any heat coming from it. -I had not, at the time, thought of mentioning a Yule-log to him, but -I told Isobel now that perhaps we might be able to find a small, -gas-burning Yule-log at the gas company's office. Isobel scoffed at the -idea. She said we might as well put a hot-water bottle in the grate and -try to be merry around that. - -“I don't see,” she said, “why people build chimneys in houses if it is -going to be dangerous to have a fire in the fireplace.” - -“They improve the ventilation, I suppose,” I said, “and then, what would -Santa Claus come down if there were no chimneys?” - -I frequently drop these half-joking remarks into my conversations with -Isobel, and not infrequently she smiles at them in a faraway manner, but -this time she jumped at the remark and seized it with both hands. - -“John!” she cried, “that is the very, very thing! We will have Santa -Claus come down the chimney! And you will be Santa Claus!” I remained -calm. Some men would have immediately remembered they had prior -engagements for Christmas. Some men would have instantly declared that -Santa Claus was an unworthy myth. But not I! I dropped upon my hands and -knees and gazed up the chimney. When I withdrew my head, I stood up and -grasped Isobel's hand. - -“Fine!” I cried with well-simulated enthusiasm. “I'll get an automobile -coat from Millington, and sleigh bells and a mask with a long white -beard--” - -“And a wig with long white hair,” Isobel added joyously. - -“And while our guests are all at dinner,” I cried, “I will steal away -from the table--” - -“John!” exclaimed Isobel. “You can't be Santa Claus! Can't you see that -it would never, never do for you to leave the table when your guests -were all there? You cannot be Santa Claus, John!” - -“Oh, Isobel!” - -“No,” she said firmly, “you cannot be Santa Claus. Jimmy Dunn must be -Santa Claus!” - -We had Jimmy Dunn out the next Sunday and broke it to him as gently as -we could, and explained what a lot of fun it would be for him, and how -I envied him the chance. For some reason he did not become wildly -enthusiastic. Instead he kneeled down, as I had done, and put his head -into the fireplace, in his usual slow-going manner, and looked up to -where the small oblong of blue sky glowed far, far above him. - -When he withdrew his head, he began some maundering talk about, an uncle -of his in Baltimore who was far from well, and who was likely to be -extremely dead or sick or married about Christmas time, but I had had -too much experience with such excuses to pay any attention to him. -Isobel and I gathered about him and talked as fast as we could, with -merry little laughs, and presently Jimmy seemed more resigned, and said -he supposed if he had to be Santa Claus there was no way out of it if -he wanted t o keep our friendship. So when he suggested getting an -automobile coat to wear, we hailed it as a splendidly original idea, -and patted him on the back, and he went away in a rather good humour, -particularly when we told him he need not come all the way down from the -top of the chimney, but could get into the chimney from the room above -the parlour. I told him it would be no trouble at all to take out the -iron back of the fireplace, for it was almost falling out, and that we -would have a ladder in the chimney for him to come down. - -It was Mrs. Rolfs who changed our plans. - -As soon as she heard we were going to have a Santa Claus, she brought -over a magazine and showed Isobel an article that said Santa Claus was -lacking in originality, and that it was much better to have two little -girls dressed as snow fairies distribute the presents from the tree, -and Mrs. Rolfs said she was willing to lend us her two daughters, if we -insisted. So we had to insist. - -[Illustration: 99] - -By the merest oversight, such as might occur in any family excited over -the preparations for a Christmas party, Isobel forgot to tell Jimmy Dunn -that the plan was changed. She had enough to think of without thinking -of that, for she found, at the last moment, that she could not pick up a -regularly constituted pair of lovers for the little alcove room, and -she had to patch up a temporary pair of lovers by inviting Miss Seiler, -depending on Jimmy Dunn to do the best he could as the other half of the -pair. Of course Jimmy Dunn does not talk much, and it was apt to be a -surprise to him to learn he was scheduled to make love, but Miss Seiler -talks enough for two. When Jimmy arrived, about four o'clock Christmas -eve, Isobel let him know he was to be a lover, but he was then in the -house, and it was too late for him to get away. - -Isobel had done nobly in securing guests. Jimmy and Miss Seiler were the -only guests from the city, but she had captured some suburbanites. Ten -of us made merry at the table--that is, all ten except Jimmy. I was -positively ashamed of Jimmy. There we were at the culminating hours of -the merry Yule-tide, gathered at the festive board itself, with a bowl -of first-rate home-made wassail with ice in it, and Jimmy was expected -to smile lovingly, and blush, and all that sort of thing, and what did -he do? He sat as mute as a clam, and started uneasily every time a new -course appeared. Before dessert arrived he actually arose and asked to -be excused. - -Now, if _you_ intended making a fool of yourself in a friend's house by -impersonating Santa Claus and coming down a chimney in a fur automobile -coat, and nonsense like that, _you_ would have sense enough to remember -which room upstairs had the chimney that led down into the parlour -fireplace, wouldn't you? So I blame Jimmy entirely, and so does Isobel. -Jimmy says--of course he had to have some excuse--that we might have -told him we had given up the idea of having Santa Claus come down the -chimney, and that if we had wanted him to come down any particular -chimney we should have put a label on it. “Santa Claus enter here,” I -suppose. - -Jimmy said he did the best he could; that he knew he did not have much -time between the threatened appearance of the dessert and the time -he was supposed to issue from the fireplace--and so on! He was quite -excited about it. Quite bitter, I may say. - -It seems--or so Jimmy says--that, when he left the table, Jimmy went -upstairs and got into his automobile coat of fur, and his felt boots, -and his mask, and his fur gloves, and his long white hair, and his -stocking hat, and that about the time we were sipping coffee he was -ready. He says it was no joke to be done up in all those things in an -overheated house, and he thought if he got into the chimney he might -be in a cool draught, so he poked about until he found a fireplace and -backed carefully into it, and pawed with his left foot for the top rung -of the ladder. That was about the time we arose from the table with -merry laughs, as nearly as Isobel and I can judge. - -No one missed Jimmy, except Miss Seiler, and she was so unused to being -made love to as Jimmy made love that she thought nothing of a temporary -absence. It was not until I took Jimmy's present from the tree and sent -one of the Rolfs fairies to hand it to Jimmy that we realized he was not -in the parlour, and then Isobel and I both felt hurt to think that -Jimmy had selfishly withdrawn from among us when we had gone to all the -trouble of getting the other half of a pair of lovers especially on his -account. It was not fair to Miss Seiler, and I told Jimmy so the next -time I saw him. - -When the Rolfs fairy had looked in all the rooms, upstairs and down, and -had not found Jimmy, she came back and told Isobel, and that was when -Isobel remembered she had forgotten to tell Jimmy we had given up the -idea of having a Santa Claus. Isobel looked up the parlour chimney, but -he was not there, and then we all started merrily looking up chimneys. -We found Santa Claus up the library chimney almost immediately. He was -still kicking, but not with much vim--more like a man that is kicking -because he has nothing else to do than like a man that enjoys it. - -I think we must have been gathering around the Christmas tree to the -cheery music of a carol when Santa Claus put his foot on a loose brick -in the fireplace and slipped. I claim that if Santa Claus had instantly -thrown his body forward he would have been safe enough, but Santa Claus -says he did not have time--that he slid down the chimney immediately, as -far as his arms would let him. He says that when he caught the edge of -the hearth with his hands he did yell; that he yelled as loud as any -man could who was wrapped in a fur coat and had his mouth full of white -horse-hair whiskers and his face covered by a mask. I say that proves he -yelled just as we were singing the carol. He should have yelled a moment -sooner, or should have waited half an hour, until the noise in the -parlour abated. Santa Claus says he tried to stay there half an hour, -but the two bricks he had grasped did not want to wait. They wanted to -hurry down the chimney without further delay, and they had their own way -about it. So Santa Claus went on down with them. - -I tell Santa Claus that even if we were singing carols we would have -heard him if he had fallen to the library floor with a bump, and that it -was his fault if he did not fall heavily, but he blames the architect. -He says that if the chimney had been built large enough he would have -done his part and would have fallen hard, but that when he reached the -narrow part of the chimney he wedged there. I said that was the fault -of wearing an automobile coat that padded him out so he could not fall -through an ordinary chimney, and I asked him if he thought any man who -meant to fall down chimneys had ever before put on an automobile coat to -fall in. - -Certainly I, the host, could not be expected to stop the laughter and -merriment when I was taking presents from the tree, and bid every one be -silent and listen for the muffled tones of a Santa Claus in the library -chimney. I do not say Santa Claus did not yell as loudly as he could. -Doubtless he did. And I do not say he did not try to get out of the -chimney. He says he did, but that with his arms crowded above his head -he could do nothing but reach. He says he also kicked, but there was -nothing to kick. He says the most fruitless task in the world is to kick -when wedged in a chimney with a whole fur automobile coat crowded up -under the arms and nothing below to kick but air. - -Luckily I was able to send for Mr. Rolfs and Mr. Millington, whose -advice is always valuable, since when I know what they advise I know -what not to do. Mr. Rolfs rushed in and was of the opinion that we must -get a chisel and chisel a hole in the library wall as near as possible -to where Santa Claus was reposing, but when Mr. Millington arrived, -breathless, he said this would be simple murder, for as likely as not -the chisel would enter between two bricks and perforate Santa Claus -beyond repair. Mr. Millington said the thing to do was to get a -clothesline and attach it to Santa Claus's feet and pull him down. He -said it was logical to pull him downward, because we would then be aided -by the law of gravitation. Mr. Rolfs said this was nonsense, and that -it would only wedge Santa Claus in the chimney more tightly, and that we -would, in all probability, pull him in two, or at least stretch him out -so long that he would never be very useful again. - -Mr. Rolfs and Mr. Millington became quite heated in their argument. Mr. -Rolfs said that if a rope was to be used it should be used to pull Santa -Claus upward, but they compromised by agreeing to cut the clothesline -in two, choose up sides, and let one side pull Santa Claus upward, -while the other pulled him downward. Then Santa Claus would move in -the direction of least resistance. So they got the clothesline, and Mr. -Rolfs was about to cut it, when Miss Seiler screamed. - -I was doubly glad she screamed just at that juncture, for we had all -become so interested in the Rolfs-Millington controversy that we had -forgotten how perishable a human being is, and, with two such stubborn -men as Rolfs and Millington urging us on, we might have pulled -Santa Claus in two while our sporting instincts were aroused by the -tug-of-war. That was one reason I was glad Miss Seiler screamed. The -other reason was that it showed she was doing her share of representing -one half of a pair of lovers. She had done rather poorly up to that -time, but she saw that when her lover was about to be pulled asunder was -the time to scream, if she was ever going to scream, so she screamed. -So we all went upstairs and let the rope down to Santa Claus, and the -entire merry Christmas house party pulled, and after we had jerked a few -times up came Santa Claus with a sudden bump. - -At that moment Miss Seiler screamed again, and when we turned we saw -the reason, for the glass door to the little upper porch had opened and -Jimmy Dunn was entering the room. - -We laid Santa Claus on the floor and let him kick, for he seemed to have -acquired the habit, but after awhile he slowed down and only jerked his -legs spasmodically. Mr. Millington explained that it was only the reflex -action of the muscles, and that probably Santa Claus would kick like -that for several months, whenever he lay down. He said if we had -followed his advice and pulled downward we would have yanked all the -reflex action out of the legs. - -As soon as I pulled the mask from his face I recognized Mr. Prawley. -Jimmy slipped out of the room and walked all the way to the station, and -Miss Seiler stood around, not knowing whether she was to be half of -a pair of lovers with Mr. Prawley as the other half, or stop being a -lover, or weep because Jimmy had gone. I felt sorry for her, because Mr. -Prawley was not a good specimen of a Christmas lover just then. When -we stood him on his feet his trousers were still pushed up around his -knees, and his fur coat was around his neck. He was so weak we had to -hold him up. - -“What I want to know,” said Mr. Millington, “is what you were doing in -that chimney in my automobile coat?” - -“Doing?” said Mr. Prawley. “Why, I'm jolly old Santa Claus. I come down -chimneys.” - -“Well, my advice to you, Mr. Prawley,” I said, “is to stop it. You don't -do it at all right. Don't try it again. I've had enough of this jolly -old Santa Claus business. Who told you to do it?” - -“The little gentleman with the scared look,” said Mr. Prawley, looking -around for Jimmy Dunn. “He isn't here.” - -“And what did he give you for doing it?” I asked. - -“Nothing!” said Mr. Prawley. “He just--” - -“Just what?” I asked when he hesitated. Mr. Prawley drew me to one side -and whispered. - -“He said I might wear an automobile coat. And I couldn't resist the -temptation,” said Mr. Prawley. “I've been hankering to get inside an -automobile coat for weeks and weeks, sir. I couldn't resist.” - -Of course, I could make nothing of this at the time, so I merely said a -few words of good advice, and ordered Mr. Prawley never to try the Santa -Claus impersonation again. - -“Of course, I'm only an amateur at it,” said Mr. Prawley apologetically, -and then he brightened, “but I made good speed as far as I got. I'll bet -I broke the world's speed record for jolly old Santa Clauses!” - - - - -VI. THE SPECKLED HEN - -IN ORDER to relieve the reader's suspense, I may as well say here that -Jimmy Dunn did not marry Miss Seiler. It is too bad to have to sacrifice -what promised to be a first-class love interest, but the truth is that -there is less chance of Jimmy ever marrying Miss Seiler than there -seemed likelihood of Isobel and me reaching Port Lafayette in Mr. -Millington's automobile. - -Usually when we started for Port Lafayette, my wife and Millington's -wife would dress for the matinée or church, or wherever they intended -going that day, and when Millington heard the knocking sound in his -engine and began to get out his tools, they would excuse themselves -politely and go and spend the day in the city. They usually returned -in time to get into the car and ride back to the garage. But I stuck to -Millington. You never can tell when a car of that kind will be ready to -start up, and I was really very anxious to go to Port Lafayette. I spent -some very delightful days with Millington that way, for when he was -mending his car he was always in a charming humour, and as gay and -playful as a kitten. - -I began to fear that one, if not the only, reason why Mr. Millington was -always in such a good humour when his car was in a bad one, was because -I had told him that I had heard of a man in Port Lafayette who had a -fine farm of White Wyandotte chickens, and that I thought I might buy -some for my place. Millington does not believe in Wyandottes. He is all -for Orpingtons. - -It is remarkable how many wives object to chickens. I do not blame -Isobel for not liking chickens, for she was born in a flat, and I am -willing to make allowances for her lack of education; but why Mrs. Rolfs -and Mrs. Millington should dislike chickens was beyond my comprehension. -Both were born in the suburbs, and grew up in a real chickenish -atmosphere, and still they do not keep chickens. I must say, however, -that Mr. Rolfs and Mr. Millington are persons of greater intelligence. -Almost the first day I moved into the suburb of Westcote, Mr. Rolfs -leaned over the division fence and complimented me on my foresight in -purchasing such an admirable place on which to raise chickens. He told -me that if I needed any advice about chickens he would be glad to supply -me with all I wished, just as a neighbourly matter. He seemed to take it -as a matter of course that I would arrange for a lot of chickens as soon -as I was fairly settled on the place, and in this he was seconded by Mr. -Millington. - -When Mr. Millington saw Mr. Rolfs talking to me, he came right over and -said that, while he hated to boast, he had studied chickens from A to -Gizzard, and that when I was ready to get my chickens he could give me -some suggestions that would be simply invaluable. We talked the chicken -matter over very thoroughly, and I soon saw that they were men of -knowledge and deep experience in chicken matters, and when they had -decided that I would keep chickens, and what kind of chickens, and where -I should build the coop, and what kind of coop I should build, we all -shook hands warmly, and I went around front to tell Isobel. I was very -enthusiastic about chickens when I went. - -After I had interviewed Isobel for three minutes I learned, definitely, -that I was not going to keep chickens. There were a great many things -Mr. Rolfs and Mr. Millington had not said about chickens, and those were -the very things Isobel told me, and they were all reasons for not having -chickens on the place at all. She also threw in an opinion of Mr. Rolfs -and Mr. Millington. It seemed that they were two villains of the most -depraved sort, who did not dare keep chickens themselves because they -were afraid of their wives, and who were trying to steal a vicarious joy -by bossing my chickens when I got them, but that I was not going to get -any. Absolutely! - -Of course, I always do what Isobel tells me, and when she told me I was -not going to have chickens, I obeyed. But I merely told Mr. Rolfs -and Mr. Millington when they came over the next day, that I had been -thinking the matter over and that I was doubtful whether the south corner -or the north corner would be the best place for the coop. So we three -went and looked over the ground again. Both favoured the north corner, -so I hung back and seemed undecided and doubtful, and finally, in a week -or two, they agreed with me. - -[Illustration: 123] - -I never saw two men so anxious to have a neighbour keep chickens. They -were willing to let me have almost everything my own way. It was quite a -strain on me, for I had to think of a new objection to their plans every -day or so, but I could see the suspense was harder on Mr. Rolfs and Mr. -Millington. Every morning they came and hung over my fence wistfully, -and every evening they came over and talked chickens, and on the train -to town they spoke freely of the chickens they were going to keep. In -a month they were talking of the chickens they _were_ keeping, and -bragging about them; and old-seasoned chicken raisers used to hunt them -up and sit with them and ask for information on knotty points. - -Toward fall Mr. Rolfs and Mr. Millington were beginning to talk about -the large sums of money they were making out of their chickens, and -promising settings of their White Orpington and White Wyandotte eggs to -the commuters, and they began to be really annoying. They would stand -at the fence, hollow-eyed and hungry-looking, staring into my yard, and -when I passed they would make slighting remarks about me and the lack of -decision in my character. They said sneeringly that they did not believe -I would ever get any chickens. - -“You, Millington, and you, Rolfs,” I said firmly, “should remember one -thing: I am the man who is getting these chickens, and the main thing in -raising chickens is to start right. I do not want to go into this thing -hastily and then regret it all my life. If you do not like my way, all -you have to do is to build coops yourselves and buy chickens and raise -them yourselves. Be patient. Every day I am learning more about chickens -from your conversations on the train, and when I do get my chickens you -will find I have profited by your suggestions.” - -Millington and Rolfs had to be satisfied with that, so far as I was -concerned, for although I spoke to Isobel frequently on the subject of -chickens she had not changed. I silenced Millington by telling him I -would have chickens long before he ever succeeded in taking Isobel and -me to Port Lafayette in his automobile. - -“If that is all you are waiting for,” he said, “we will start -to-morrow,” and so we did; but that was all. - -Millington and Rolfs, during the winter, worked off some of their -surplus chicken energy writing letters to the poultry periodicals. My -friends in town began asking me why I did not keep chickens when I -lived near to such chicken experts as Rolfs and Millington, by whose -experience I could profit; but the worst came one day on the train when -Rolfs actually had the assurance to offer me a setting of his White -Wyandotte eggs. I blame Rolfs and Millington for acting in this way. No -man should brag about chickens he has not; I only bragged about those I -meant to get. - -By the time spring put forth her tender leaves, Rolfs and Millington -were so deep in their imaginary chicken business that they talked -nothing else, and all their spare time was spent in my yard, urging me -to hurry a little and get the chickens. - -“I wish you would hurry a bit in getting those chickens of mine,” - Millington would say; “I ought to have at least ten hens sitting by this -time.” And then Rolfs would say: “He is right about that. Unless you get -my White Wyandottes soon, the chicks will not be hatched out before -cold weather. I ought to have the hens on the eggs now.” Occasionally I -mentioned chickens in an off-hand way to Isobel, but she had not changed -her views. - -“Now, Isobel,” I would say, “about chickens--” - -At the word “chickens” Isobel would look at me reproachfully, and I -would end meekly: “About chickens, as I was saying. Don't you think we -could have a pair of broilers to-morrow?” - -As a matter of fact, this happened so often that I began to hate the -sight of a broiled chicken, and was forced to mention roast chicken once -in a while. It was after one of these times that the event happened that -stirred all Westcote. - -I had reached a point where I dodged Mr. Rolfs and Mr. Millington when -I saw them, in order to avoid their insistent clamour for chickens, when -one evening Isobel met me at the door with a smile. - -“John!” she cried. “What do you think! Our chicken laid an egg!” - -“Chicken?” I asked anxiously. “Did you say chicken?” - -“And I am going to give you the egg for dinner,” cried Isobel joyfully. -“Just think, John! Our own egg, laid by our own chicken! Do you want -it fried, or boiled, or scrambled?” - -“Isobel,” I demanded, “what is the meaning of all this?” - -“I just could not kill the hen,” Isobel ran on, “after it had been -so--so friendly. Could I? I felt as if I would be killing one of the -family.” - -“People do get to feeling that way about chickens when they keep them,” - I said insinuatingly. “Why, Isobel, I have known wives to love chickens -so warmly--wives that had never cared a snap for chickens before--wives -that hated chickens--and they grew to love chickens so well that as -soon as the coop was made--of course it was a nice, clean, airy coop, -Isobel--and the dear little fluffy chicks began to peep about--” - -Isobel stiffened. - -“John,” she said finally “you are not going to keep chickens!” - -“Certainly not!” I agreed hastily. - -“But of course we can't kill Spotty,” said Isobel. “I call her Spotty -because that seems such a perfect name for her. I telephoned for a -roaster this morning, because you suggested having a roaster for dinner, -John, and when the roaster came it was a _live_ chicken! Imagine!” - -“Horrors!” I exclaimed. - -“I should think so!” agreed Isobel. “So there was nothing to do but -'phone the grocer to come and get the live roaster, but when I 'phoned, -his grandmother was much worse, and the store was closed until she -got better--or worse--and I couldn't bear to see the poor thing in the -basket with its legs tied all that time, for there is no telling how -long an old person like a grandmother will remain in the same condition, -so I loosened the roaster in the cellar, and at a quarter past four I -heard it cluck. It had laid an egg. I knew that the moment I heard it -cluck.” - -“Isobel,” I said, “you were born to be the wife of a chicken fancier! -You shall eat that egg!” - -“No, John,” she said, “you shall eat it. It is our first real egg, laid -by our dear little Spotty, and you shall eat it.” - -“No, Isobel,” I began, and then, as I saw how determined she was, I -compromised. “Let us have the egg scrambled,” I said, “and each of us -eat a part.” - -“Very well,” said Isobel, “if you will promise not to kill Spotty. We -will keep her forever and forever!” - -I agreed. Isobel kissed me for that. - -After we had eaten the egg--and both Isobel and I agreed that it was -really a superior egg--we went down cellar and looked at Spotty. I -should say she was a very intelligent-looking hen, but homely. There was -nothing flashy about her. She was the kind of hen a man might enter -in the Sweepstakes class, and not get a prize, and then enter in the -Consolation class and not get a prize, and then enter for the Booby -prize and still be outclassed, and then enter in the Plain Old Barnyard -Fowl class and not get within ten miles of a prize, and then be taken -to the butcher as a Boarding House Broiler, and be refused on account of -age, tough looks, and emaciation. - -She was no pampered darling of the hen house, but a plain old -Survival-of-the-Fittest Squawker; the kind of hen that along about the -first of May begins clucking in a vexed tone of voice, flies over the -top of a two-story bam, and wanders off somewhere into the tall grass -back of the cow pasture, to appear some weeks later with twelve chicks -of twelve assorted patterns, ranging from Shanghai-bantam to plain -yellow nondescript. She was a good, durable hen of the old school, with -a wary, startled eye, an extra loud squawk, and a brain the size of a -grain of salt. - -Spotty was the sort of hen that could go right along day after day -without steam heat or elevators in her coop and manage to make a living. -As soon as I saw her, my heart swelled with pride, for I knew I had -secured a very rare variety of hen. Since every man that can tell a -chicken from an ostrich--and some that can't--has become a chicken -fancier, the aristocratic, raised-by-hand, pedigree fowl has become as -common as dirt, and it is indeed difficult to secure a genuine mongrel -hen. I was elated. As nearly as I could judge by first appearances, I -was the owner of one of the most mongrel hens that ever laid a plain, -omelette-quality egg. - -When I had made a coop by nailing a few slats across the front of a soap -box, and had nailed Spotty in, I took the coop under my arm and went -into the back yard. Mr. Millington was there, and Mr. Rolfs was there, -and they were arguing angrily about the respective merits of White -Wyandottes and White Orpingtons, but when they saw me they uttered two -loud cries of joy and ran to meet me. I tried to cling to the coop, but -they wrested it from me and together carried it in triumph to the north -corner and set it on the grass. Mr. Millington pulled his compass from -his pocket and set the coop exactly as advised by “The Complete Poultry -Guide,” with the bars facing the morning sun, and Rolfs hurried into the -back lot and hunted up a piece of bone, which he crushed with a brick -and placed in the coop, as advised by “The Gentleman Poultry Fancier.” - He told us that a supply of bone was most necessary if he expected his -hen to lay eggs, and that he knew this hen of his was going to be a -great layer. He said he had given the egg question years of study, and -that he could tell a good egger when he saw one. - -[Illustration: 135] - -Millington told me his coop was not as he had meant it to be, but said -it would do until he could get one built according to scientific poultry -principles. He pointed out that the poultry coop should be heated by -steam, and showed me that there was no room in the soap box for a steam -heating plant. He said he would not trust his flock of chickens through -the winter unless there was steam heating installed. - -Then Rolfs and Millington said they guessed the first thing to do, as it -was so late in the season, was to set their hen immediately, and as it -would probably take Spotty thirteen days to lay enough eggs, they told -me to run down to the delicatessen store and buy thirteen eggs, while -they arranged a scientific nest in the corner of their coop, for sitting -purposes. When I suggested that perhaps Spotty was not ready to set, -they laughed at me. They said they could see I would never make a -prosperous chicken farmer if I put off until to-morrow what the hen -ought to do to-day, and that a hen that ought to set, and would not -set, must be made to set. Millington said that he did not mind if Spotty -wanted to lay. If she felt so, she could go ahead and lay while she was -taking her little rests between sets. He said that in that way she would -be doubly useful and that, judging by appearances, she was the kind of -hen that could do two or three things at the same time. - -Mr. Prawley, when he saw we were going to keep our hen, came out and -spoke to Mr. Millington, Mr. Rolfs, and me. He said he had an aversion -to hens, but that if I insisted he would devote some of his time to the -hen, but Mr. Millington, Mr. Rolfs, and I assured him we would not need -his help. We felt that the three of us, with occasional aid from Isobel, -could manage that hen. - -The next day Mr. Millington and Mr. Rolfs were so swelled with pride -that they would not speak to me on the train. Millington did not ask -me, that entire day, to take a little run up to Port Lafayette in his -automobile. I heard him tell one man on the train to town that he had -just set his eighteen prize White Orpingtons, and I heard Rolfs tell -another man, at the same time, about a coop he had just had made for -his White Wyandottes. He drew a sketch of it on the back of an envelope, -showing the location of the heating plant, the location of the gasoline -brooders, and the battery of eight electric incubators. He said he saw -but one mistake he had made, which was that he had had a gravel roof put -on. It should have been slate. He was afraid the hens would fly up onto -the roof and eat the gravel for digestive purposes, and if a lot of -tarry gravel got in their craws and stuck together in a lump, his hens -would suffer from indigestion. But he said he meant to have the gravel -roof taken off at once, regardless of cost, but he had not quite decided -on a slate roof. One of the slates might become loosened and fall and -kill one of his prize White Wyandottes, which he held at seventy-five -dollars each. If he could avoid the tar trouble, Rolfs said, he ought -to have twelve hundred laying hens by the end of the summer, besides the -broilers he would sell. He said he was going straight to a distinguished -chemist when he reached town to learn if there was any dissolvent that -would dissolve tar in a chicken's craw, without harming the craw. - -Then Millington drew a sketch of the automatic heat regulator he was -having made to attach to his heating apparatus. He said that ever since -he had been keeping poultry he had made a study of coop heating, and -that the trouble with most coops was that they were either too hot or -too cold. He said a cold coop meant that the chickens got chilly and -exhausted their vitality growing thick feathers when all their strength -should have been used in egg-laying, and that a hot coop meant that the -chickens felt lax and indolent. A hot coop enervated a chicken and made -it too lazy to lay eggs, Millington said, but this regulator he was -having made would keep the heat at an even temperature, summer and -winter, and render the hens bright and cheerful and inclined to do their -best. Millington explained that this was especially necessary with White -Orpingtons, which are great eaters and consequently more inclined toward -nervous dyspepsia, which makes a hen moody. He was going on in this way, -and every one was hanging on his words, when he happened to say that one -thing he always attended to most particularly was the state of his hens' -teeth. He said he had, so far, avoided dyspepsia in his hens, by keeping -their teeth in good condition. Every one knew poor teeth caused stomach -troubles. - -That was the end of Millington. Rolfs had been green with jealousy -because so many commuters were listening to Millington, and the moment -Millington mentioned teeth Rolfs sneered. - -“How many teeth do White Orpingtons have, Millington?” he asked. - -“I did not know they had any.” - -Then Millington saw his mistake, and did his best to explain that as a -rule chickens had no teeth, but that he had, by a process of selection, -created a strain that had eighteen teeth, nine above and nine below, -but no one believed him, and Rolfs was crowing over him when he made -his mistake. He was bragging that he never made a mistake of that kind, -because he knew hens never got indigestion in any such way. All that was -necessary he said, was to let them have plenty of exercise, and to let -them out once in a while for a good fly. He said he let his hens out -once every three days, so they could fly from tree to tree. - -Then Millington asked, sneeringly, how high his hens could fly, and -Rolfs said they were in such good condition they thought nothing of -flying to the top of a forty-foot elm tree, and Millington sneered and -said any one could guess what kind of White Wyandottes Rolfs had, when -a common White Wyandotte is so heavy it cannot fly over a rake handle. -That was the end of Rolfs, and I was glad of it, for the two of them -had been getting enough reputation on the strength of my chickens. They -sneaked out of the smoking car, and at last I had a chance to say a few -words, modestly of course, about my splendid group of six hundred Buff -Leghorns. I did not brag, as Millington and Rolfs had bragged, but -stated facts coldly and calmly, and my words met the attention they -deserved, for I was not speaking without knowledge, as Millington and -Rolfs had spoken, but as a man who owns a hen can speak. - -I reached home that evening in a pleasant state of mind, for I knew how -kind hearted Isobel is, and I knew she would see, if I placed it before -her, that it was extremely cruel to keep a hen in solitary confinement, -when the hen had probably been accustomed to a great deal of society. -I felt sure that in a few days Isobel would order me to purchase enough -more poultry to allow Spotty to lead a pleasant and sociable life. But -when Isobel met me at the gate she disheartened me. - -She said the grocer's grandmother had not been seriously ill, after -all; she had been in a mere comatose condition, and had come to, and the -grocer had come back, and he had called and taken Spotty. He offered to -kill her--Spotty, not Isobel or his grandmother--but Isobel could not -bear to eat Spotty so soon after she had been a member of our family, -so the grocer took Spotty away and sent up another roaster. At least -he said it was another, but after I had carved it I had my doubts. In -general strength and durability the roaster and Spotty were one. - -The next morning, when I went out to see if Mr. Prawley had hoed the -garden properly, I found Mr. Rolfs and Mr. Millington leaning over my -fence. They were unabashed. - -“I have just been looking over your place,” said Rolfs, “and I must say -it is a most admirably located place on which to keep a cow. And if you -want any suggestions on cow-keeping, you may call on me at any time. I -have studied the cow, in all her moods and tenses, for years.” - -“Nonsense!” said Millington. “A man is foolish to try to keep live -stock. Live stock is subject to all the ills--” - -“Such as toothache!” sneered Rolfs. - -“All the ills of man and beast,” continued Millington. “What you want is -an automobile. Now I will sell mine--” - -“No!” I said positively. - -“You only say that because you do not know my automobile as I know it,” - said Millington. “It is a wonder, that machine is. Now, I propose that -to-morrow you and your wife take a little run up to Port Lafayette with -me and my wife. After the cares of chicken raising--” - -“Very well, Millington,” I said, “we will go to Port Lafayette!” - - - - -VII. CHESTERFIELD WHITING - - -THE next morning Millington came over bright and early, and his face was -aglow with joy. - -“Get ready as quickly as you can,” he said, “for I will be ready to -start for Port Lafayette in a few minutes. The automobile is in perfect -order, and we should have a splendid trip. She isn't knocking at all.” - This knocking, which was located in the motor-case, or hood, was one of -the most reliable noises of all those for which Millington listened when -he started the engine of his automobile. He was very fond of it, and it -was one of the heartiest knockings I ever heard in an automobile. It was -like the hiccoughs, only more strenuous. It was as if a giant had been -shut in the motor by mistake and was trying to knock the whole affair -to pieces. The knock came about every eight seconds, lightly at -first, getting stronger and stronger until it made the fore-end of the -automobile bounce up a foot or eighteen inches at each knock. - -Millington loved all the sounds of trouble, but this knocking gave him -the most pleasure and put him in his pleasantest mood, for he could -never quite discover the cause of it. When everything else was in -perfect order the knock remained. He would do everything any man could -think of to cure it, but the machine would continue to knock. I remember -he even went so far as to put a new inner tube in a tire once, to see -if that would have any effect, but it did not. But there were plenty -of other noises, too. Millington once told me he had classified and -scheduled four hundred and eighteen separate noises of disorder that -he had heard in that one automobile, and that did not include any that -might be another noise for the same disorders. And some days he would -hear the whole four hundred and eighteen before we had gone a block. -Those were his happy days. - -But this morning Millington came over bright and early. Isobel was just -putting a cake in the oven, and she only took time to tell Jane, or -Sophie, or whoever happened to be our maid that week, that she would be -back in time to take the cake out, and then we went over to Millington's -garage. - -Mrs. Millington, was already in the automobile, and Isobel and I got in, -and Millington opened the throttle and the machine ran down the road to -the street as lightly and skimmingly as a swallow. It glided into the -street noiselessly and headed for Port Lafayette like a thing alive. I -noticed that Millington looked anxious, but I thought nothing of it at -the time. His brow was drawn into a frown, and from moment to moment -he pulled his cap farther and farther down over his eyes. He leaned far -over the side of the car. He listened so closely that his ears twitched. - -Mrs. Millington and Isobel were chatting merrily on the rear seat, and -I was just turning to cast them a word, when the car came to a stop. -I turned to Milllington instantly, ready to catch the pleasant bit of -humour he usually let fall when he began to dig out his wrenches and -pliers, but his face wore a glare of anger. His jaws were set, and -he was muttering low, intense curses. I have seldom seen a man more -demoniacal than Millington was at that moment. I asked him, merrily, -what was the matter with the old junk shop this time, but instead of his -usual chipper repartee, that “the old tea kettle has the epizootic,” he -gave me one ferocious glance in which murder was plainly to be seen. - -Without a word he began walking around the automobile, eyeing it -maliciously, and every time he passed a tire he kicked it as hard as -he could. Then he began opening all the opening parts, and when he had -opened them all and had peered into them long and angrily he went over -to the curb and sat down and swore. Isobel and Mrs. Millington politely -stuffed their handkerchiefs in their ears, but I went over to Millington -and spoke to him as man to man. - -“Millington,” I said severely, “calm down! I am surprised. Time and -again I have started for Port Lafayette with you, and time and again we -have paused all day while you repaired the automobile. Much as I have -wished to go to Port Lafayette I have never complained, because you have -always been better company while repairing the machine than at any other -time. But this I cannot stand. If you continue to act this way I shall -never again go toward Port Lafayette with you. Brace up, and repair the -machine.” - -Millington's only answer was a curse. - -I was about to take him by the throat and teach him a little better -manners when he arose and walked over to the machine again. He got in -and started the motor, and listened intently while I ran alongside. -Then, with a great effort he controlled his feelings and spoke. - -“Ladies,” he said between his teeth, “we shall have to postpone going -to Port Lafayette. I am afraid to drive this car any farther. There is -something very, very serious the matter with it.” - -Then, when the women had disappeared, my wife walking rapidly so as to -arrive at home before her cake was scorched, Millington turned to me. - -“John,” he said with emotion, “you must excuse the feeling I showed. -I was upset; I admit that I was overcome. I have owned this car four -years, but in all that time, although I have started for Port Lafayette -nearly every day, the car has never behaved as it has just behaved. I am -a brave man, John, and I have never been afraid of a motor-car before, -but when my car acts as this car has just acted, I _am_ afraid!” - -I could see he was speaking the truth. His face was white about the -mouth, and the tense lines showed he was nerving himself to do his duty. -His voice trembled with the intensity of his self-control. - -“John,” he said, taking my hand, “were you listening to the car?” - -“No,” I had to admit. “No, Millington, I was not. I am ashamed to say -it, but at the moment my mind was elsewhere. But,” I added, as if in -self defence, “I am pretty sure I did not hear that knocking. I remember -quite distinctly that I was not holding on to anything, and when the -engine knocks--But what did you hear?” - -A shiver of involuntary fear passed over Millington, and he lowered his -voice to a frightened whisper. He glanced fearfully at the automobile. - -“Nothing!” he said. - -“What?” I cried. I could not hide my astonishment and, I am afraid, -my disbelief. I would not, for the world, have had Millington think I -thought he was prevaricating. - -“Not a thing!” he repeated firmly. “Not a sound; not one bad symptom. -Every--everything was running just as it should--just as they do in -other automobiles.” - -“Millington!” I said reproachfully. - -“It is the truth!” he declared. “I swear it is the truth. Nothing seemed -broken or about to break. I could not hear a sound of distress, or a -symptom of disorder. Do you wonder I was overcome?” - -“Millington,” I said seriously, “this is no light matter. I shall not -accuse you of wilfully lying to me, but I know your automobile, and I -cannot believe your automobile could proceed four hundred feet without -making noises of internal disorder. It is evident to me that your -hearing is growing weak; you may be threatened with deafness.” At this -Millington seemed to cheer up considerably, for deafness was something -he could understand. I proposed that we both get into the automobile -again, and I, too, would listen. So we did. It was almost pathetic, it -was most pathetic, to see the way Millington looked up into my face to -see what verdict I would give when he started the motor. - -My verdict was the very worst possible. We ran a block at low speed -and I could hear no trouble. We ran a block at second speed, and no -distressful noise did I hear. We ran two blocks at high speed, with -no noise but the soft purring of motors and machinery. As Millington -brought the automobile to a stop we looked at each other aghast. It -was true, too true, _nothing was the matter with the automobile!_ It -sparked, it ignited, it did everything a perfect automobile should do, -just as a perfect automobile should do it. We got out and stared at the -automobile silently. - -“John,” said Millington at length, “you can easily see that I would -not dare to start on a long trip like that to Port Lafayette when my -automobile is acting in this unaccountable manner. It would be the most -foolhardy recklessness. When this machine is running in an absolutely -perfect manner, almost anything may be the matter with it. My -own opinion is that a spell has been cast over it, and that it is -bewitched.” - -“I never knew it to come as far as this without stopping,” I said, “and -to come this far without a single annoying noise makes me sure we should -not attempt Port Lafayette to-day in this car. I shall take a little -jaunt into the country behind my horse, and--” - -“But don't go to Port Lafayette,” pleaded Millington. “Perhaps the -automobile will be worse to-morrow. If she only develops some of the -noises I am familiar with I shall not be afraid of her.” - -One of the pleasures of being a suburbanite is that you can have a -horse, and one of the pleasures of having a horse is that you keep off -the main roads when you go driving, lest the automobiles get you and -your horse into an awful mess. In driving up cross roads and down back -roads you often run across things you would like to own--things the -automobilist never sees--and Isobel and I had heard of a genuine Windsor -chair of ancient lineage. I imagine the chair may have been almost as -old as our horse. When Mr. Millington told me we could not go to Port -Lafayette in his automobile that day, I hurried home and had Mr. Prawley -harness Bob, and it was that day, when we were hunting the Windsor -chair, that we ran across Chesterfield Whiting. Since Isobel had begun -to like suburban life, she liked it as only a convert could, and the -moment she saw Chesterfield Whiting she declared we must, by all means, -keep a pig, and that Chesterfield Whiting was the pig we must keep. - -Personally I was not much in favour of keeping a pig. I like things that -pay dividends more frequently. I would not give much for a vegetable -garden that had to be planted in the spring, worked all summer, -tended all fall, and that only yielded its product in the winter. -I prefer a garden that gives a vegetable once in awhile. Mine does -that--it gives a vegetable every once in awhile. But a pig is a slow -dividend payer. - -I had noticed that Mr. Rolfs and Mr. Millington had never urged me to -get a pig. Whenever I mentioned pig they mentioned various deadly and -popular pig diseases. They had urged me to garden, and to keep chickens, -and a horse, and a cow, and even an automobile--Millington urged me to -keep his--but never a pig! I would not hint that Rolfs and Millington -were selfish, or that they hoped to receive, now and then, milk from my -cow, eggs from my chickens, or radishes from my garden, but a neighbour -may profit in that way. On the other hand, the neighbour never profits -from the suburban pig. I believe now, however, that Rolfs and Millington -wished me to have things that would pay as they went. - -But the moment Isobel saw the pig she said we must have him, because he -was so cute. I had never thought of buying a pig because it was cute -any more than I would have thought of buying a spring bonnet because it -would fatten well for winter killing, but I yielded to Isobel. - -Isobel said the idea of a pig being a nuisance was all nonsense, for she -had been reading a magazine that was largely devoted to pigs and similar -objects loved by country gentlemen, and that modern science proved -beyond a doubt that the cleaner the pig the happier it was. She said a -pig could not be too clean, and that if a pig was kept perfectly tidy no -one could object to it. - -“John,” she said, “there is no reason in the world why a pig should not -be as clean as a new pin. The magazine says that if a pig is usually of -a coarse, disgruntled nature, it is only because it is kept in coarse, -brutalizing surroundings, and treated like a pig. If a pig is put amidst -sweetness and light, the pig's nature will be sweet and light, and the -pig will be sweet and light.” - -I suggested gently that a pig, all things considered, was usually -counted a failure if it was a light pig, and that experts had decided in -favour of the pig that became heavy and soggy. - -“What I mean,” said Isobel, “is light in spirit, not light in weight.” - -We were looking over the fence of a farm when we held this little -conversation, and Chesterfield Whiting was sporting on the clean, green -clover, amidst his brothers, quite unconscious that he was so soon to be -separated from them and lose their companionship. We had been attracted -to him by a very hand-made sign that announced “Pigs for Sale.” - Chesterfield was an extremely clean pig, and I must admit that I was -rather taken by his looks myself, and when we drove around to the farm -house I was surprised to learn how inexpensive a pig of tender years -is, and I bought the pig. It is hard for me to deny Isobel these little -pleasures. - -On our way home Isobel and I talked of the future of Chesterfield, and -we resolved that his life should be one grand, sweet song, as the -poet says, and we had hardly started homeward than it appeared as if -Chesterfield meant to attend to the song feature of his life himself. I -never imagined a pig would feel his separation from his native place -so keenly. He began to mourn in a keen treble key the moment the farmer -grabbed him, uttering long, sharp wails of sorrow, and he kept it up. -Automobiles with siren horns stopped in the road as we passed, and the -chauffeurs took off their goggles and stared at us. It was very hard for -Isobel to sit up straight in the carriage and look dignified and cool -with Chesterfield wailing out his little soul sorrows under the seat. - -As we neared the outskirts of Westcote, I began to keep an eye out for -pig houses. It seemed to me that in these days of uplift the pig keepers -of a suburb such as ours, peopled by intelligent men and women, would -have the most modern improvements in pig dwellings, and I desired to -make a few mental notes of them as I passed by. If I saw a very modern -pig palace I meant to get out of the carriage and examine minutely the -conveniences installed for the pig's comfort, so that I might reproduce -them. - -Isobel had mentioned casually that a pig dwelling with tile floors and -walls and a shower bath would be quite sanitary, provided the tiles of -the wall met the tiles of the floor in a concave curve, leaving no sharp -angles; but as we journeyed into the village we saw no pig houses of -this kind. In fact we saw no pig houses of any kind. At first this only -annoyed me, then it surprised me, and by the time we were well into the -village it worried me. - -“Isobel,” I said, “I don't like this absence of pigs in this village. -I am afraid there is something wrong here. I don't know what to make of -it. It may be that hog-cholera is epidemic here the year 'round, just as -San José scale kills all the apple trees. Have you seen a single pig?” - -“Not one,” she admitted. “It looks as if there was a law against pigs.” - -I stopped Bob, and looked at Isobel in amazement. - -“Isobel!” I exclaimed. “You must be right! There must be a law against -pigs! I do wish Chesterfield would stop yelling!” - -“John,” said Isobel, “now that I come to think of it I do not believe I -ever saw a pig in all Westcote. I wonder if we couldn't gag Chesterfield -some way? If he howls like that every one will know we have a pig.” - -I gagged the pig. I took Isobel's pink veil and wrapped it firmly around -Chesterfield's nose, and brought the ends around his neck and tied them. -Then I stuck his head into the sleeve of my rain coat and wrapped him in -the coat, and tied it all in the linen dust robe. He was well gagged. - -“Isobel,” I said, as I took up the reins again, “this is a serious -matter. We will have to get rid of this pig, and we will have to do it -quickly. I do not want to get into difficulties with the City of New -York. Keeping a pig in the suburbs is evidently a crime, and it is a -difficult crime to conceal. If I committed a murder and used ordinary -precautions there might be no danger of detection, but a pig speaks for -itself.” - -“Chesterfield does,” said Isobel. “Do you suppose they will put you in -jail?” - -“_Me_ in jail?” I ejaculated. “He is your pig, Isobel.” - -“John,” she said generously, “I give Chesterfield to you.” - -“Isobel,” I said, “I cannot accept the sacrifice. He is your pig.” - -“Well,” she said, “we will go to prison together.” - - - - -VIII. SALTED ALMONDS - -AS WE approached our house, Mr. Millington, who was in his garage, and -Mr. Rolfs, who was on his porch, came to meet us. They looked at the -carriage with suspicion, but I assumed a careless, innocent look, well -calculated to deceive them. They came down to the carriage, and laid -their hands on it, and glanced into it. Mr. Rolfs, with ill-assumed -absent-mindedness, lifted the leather cover of the rear of the carriage -box and glanced in. I was glad we had put Chesterfield Whiting under the -seat. - -“Shall I take in the--” Isobel began, but I cut her words short. - -“No, I will take in your _wraps_,” I said meaningly, and then added: -“Well, good night, Millington; good night, Rolfs.” - -They did not take the hint. They walked beside the carriage as I drove -to the stable, and although Mr. Prawley was able to do the work alone, -and I made some excuse to help him, Rolfs and Millington seemed eager to -help us. - -“I worked two hours over my automobile,” said Millington, “and she is -knocking again as usual. To-morrow, I propose you and I and our wives -will take a little pig up to Port Lafayette--” - -“Pig?” I said. “What do you mean by pig, Millington.” - -“Did I say pig?” said Millington in great confusion. “I meant to say: -'take a little spin.'” - -“John will think you think he is thinking of keeping a pig,” said Rolfs -accusingly to Millington. “He will think you are doubting his sanity. -John would no more keep a pig on this place--” - -“Certainly not!” I cried. “The idea! Keep a pig!” - -“Well, you know,” said Millington, and then stopped. “What is that -squeak?” he asked. - -I knew only too well what that squeak was. It was Chesterfield. - -“That?” I said carelessly. “Oh, that is nothing. My carriage springs -need oiling. Mr. Prawley, don't forget to oil the carriage springs -to-morrow.” - -“Yes, sir,” said Mr. Prawley, “but if I might suggest feeding the--” - -“Ahem!” I said loudly. “Oil the springs, Prawley. To-morrow.” - -“When I said 'take a little pig,'” said Millington, “I meant--” - -“Millington,” I said, “I forgive you! Men will make mistakes--slip of -the tongue--Well, good night!” - -“See here,” said Millington, “I know you feel some resentment.” - -“No I don't! Good night!” I said angrily. - -“Yes you do!” said Millington. “And I'll tell you why. You remember -you mentioned, some time ago, that you thought you would keep a pig? -Personally I would be delighted to have you keep a pig or even a lot of -pigs. You could make an infernal stock yard of your place if you -wanted to. I love pigs. If I could have my way I would have a pig pen -immediately under my window, so that when I awakened in the morning I -could glance down at the happy, contented creatures. Nothing starts -the day so well as to see contented creatures, and there is nothing so -contented as a pig. If I could have my own way I would beg you to build -your pig pen immediately under my window. But I am not a selfish man.” - -“I know you are not, Millington,” I said; “but I am not considering the -purchase of a pig. Good night!” - -“Of course you are not,” said Rolfs, “and I only want to say that if you -do keep a pig you can gratify Millington, for every law of pig culture -demands that you build your pig house against the western fence, and not -against my fence. The pig is a delicate creature, and his pen should be -where the invigorating rays of the morning sun can strike him. Now my -fence is the eastern fence--” - -“And this man Rolfs pretends to be your friend!” exclaimed Millington -sneeringly. - -“Why every one knows that unless a pig has sweet dreams he becomes moody -and listless, and loses interest in life. A pig's place of residence -should always be where the last rays of the sun can strike him--against -the eastern fence. You want to put that pen against Rolf's fence.” - -At this Mr. Rolfs became greatly agitated. He glared at Mr. Millington, -and shook his fist at me. - -“You'll put no pig pen on my side of your yard!” he said threateningly. - -“And you keep your pig pen away from my fence,” said Mr. Millington -hotly. “I am your friend, and I start to Port Lafayette with you day -after day--” - -“Millington,” said Rolfs, calming himself, “we will not have a pig in -this neighbourhood at all. If this fellow attempts to keep a pig we will -have the law on him. That is what we will do!” - -“That is what we will do, Rolfs,” said Millington, “at the first -evidence of a pig we will set the police on him. We won't stand it!” - “Gentlemen,” I said calmly, “I have no intention of keeping a pig. Such -an idea never entered my mind. And as for you, Millington, I know you -now. You have shown yourself as you are. Never again, Millington, shall -I start to Port Lafayette in your automobile. That is final! Good night, -gentlemen!” - -Millington and Rolfs went off arm in arm, and when they were out of -sight I hurriedly rescued Chesterfield Whiting, in all his wrappings, -from under the seat, and rushed him into the house. I let Mr. Prawley -continue to unharness the horse. I told Isobel what my neighbours had -said. Chesterfield, in his gags, lay at my feet. - -“To-morrow, Isobel,” I said, “we must get rid of Chesterfield Whiting. -In the meantime we must keep him a dark secret. We must keep him silent, -or we are lost.” - -Suddenly the dust-robe bundle at our feet began to palpitate violently. -It bounced like a fish out of water, and I made a grab for it. -Chesterfield screamed. I threw myself hastily upon him and wrapped him -in my arms and muzzled the bunch of veil that was his nose with my hand. -As I stood erect again I chanced to glance out of the window, and I saw -Mr. Rolfs and Mr. Millington in deep conversation with a policeman. From -time to time they turned and glanced at my house. Motioning Isobel to -follow me, I bore Chesterfield to the attic. We closed the windows of -the trunk room in the attic, and locked the door. Then I opened a trunk, -unwrapped Chesterfield and dropped him into the trunk, and shut the lid. -And sat on it. - -[Illustration: 175] - -Isobel peeked out of the window, and told me that the policeman and Mr. -Rolfs and Mr. Millington were staring at our attic windows. - -An ordinary pig would have been glad to be unwrapped and dropped into -a cozy, roomy trunk, but Chesterfield was no ordinary pig. He was a -weeper. First he wailed for his lost home. Then he screamed for his -mother. Then he shrieked for each of his dear little brothers and -sisters individually. Then he opened his lungs and squealed for all of -them at once, and the policeman took out his note-book and wrote down -the number of our house. I realized then that keeping a pig in the -suburbs is attended by difficulties. The theory of keeping your pigs -cheerful and happy is all right in a book, but it is hard to live up -to when the pig is homesick and a policeman with a note-book is on your -front walk. It is well enough for an agricultural writer to sit in -his hall bedroom in the city and scribble about uplifting the pig, -and spiritualizing it, and bathing it, but did he ever try to soothe a -homesick pig in an attic? Did he ever try to bathe a pig in a trunk? Did -he ever try to scatter sunshine in a pig's life when the pig has firmly -made up its mind to mourn? Did he ever try to reason with the pig when -the pig is full of squeal, and has no desire in life but to pour forth -eons and leagues of it? - -When a pig feels like that, it is useless to read it chapters from -Hamilton Wright Mabie's “Essays on Nature and Culture.” Occasionally I -opened the lid of the trunk and looked in to assure myself that there -was but one pig, and not three or four. When a pig reaches the -stage where its eyes become set and stary, and it gives forth long, -soul-piercing wails, it does not want a bath. It does not want sunshine, -nor Bible classes, nor uplift, nor simple life. It wants food. - -The more I studied Chesterfield the more certain I became that if a man -wants to win the affection of a pig he can best do so, not by lifting -the pig over the edge of a porcelain bath tub every few hours to give -it a rub-down, but by standing by with a couple of tons of feed and -shovelling it down the pig with a scoop-shovel. The pig's squawker and -its swallower are one and the same instrument, and the only way to keep -the squawker quiet is to keep the swallower plugged with food. In its -idle hours the pig may long for sweetness and light, but it wants meals -at all hours of the day and night. - -We found that Chesterfield preferred salted almonds to affection. He -began eating salted almonds immediately after we had fed him everything -else in the house that was edible, and by feeding him one almond at a -time Isobel was able to keep him interested. By this means she kept his -mind off his sorrows. He could not weep and chew. - -Time and again, as the hours slipped by, Isobel tested Chesterfield, to -see if he was satisfied, but at each test his sorrow broke forth afresh. -I never knew a pig was so full of sorrows. I would not have believed -that so small a pig, so full of salted almonds, could have room for one -small sorrow. And yet, the moment Isobel ceased feeding him, he would -run around inside the trunk, nosing it and wailing for--I don't know -what he was wailing for! - -About midnight, when Isobel was worn out, I took her place and let her -go to bed. I told her I would feed salted almonds until three, and then -call her, and she could feed until six, while I got a little sleep. -About two o'clock in the morning I gave Chesterfield his eighteenth -drink of water, and when I offered him another salted almond he seemed -languid. He eyed it covetously, opened his mouth, sighed once, and fell -over sideways. His regular breathing told me he had fallen into a deep, -sweet sleep, and I removed my shoes and stole softly downstairs. - -“He has fallen asleep,” I told Isobel, “and I think he will probably -take a good nap. He has had a hard day. I left him quite comfortable -and--” - -“Drink! Almonds! Mother! I'm lone-lee-ee-wee-wee-wee!” wailed -Chesterfield at that instant, and I hurried up to the attic. I threw -open the lid of the trunk, and found him standing on his feet. He was -still asleep, his white-lashed eyes firmly closed in slumber, but his -squealer was working as if he were awake, and when I fed him a salted -almond he munched and swallowed it without awakening, and squealed for -another. He was so sound asleep that he could not even reach out for the -almonds; I had to poke them into his mouth. When I missed his mouth and -dropped the almond on the floor of the trunk he squealed. At last he lay -down comfortably and slept and ate almonds. - -I had one great fear. I was running out of almonds. So I tried him with -wads of newspaper, and found they satisfied him quite as well. I fed him -a complete Sunday newspaper, including the coloured supplement and the -“want” advertisements, before sunrise. I imagine the newspaper was not -very nourishing, for Chesterfield awakened at sunrise with a tremendous -appetite, and let us know, plainly, that he was starving to death. I -fed him my breakfast and Isobel's while Mr. Prawley was digging up what -remained in our vegetable garden, and when Chesterfield had eaten that I -gagged him with the pink veil, and stuffed his head in the sleeve of my -rain coat once more. - -“Isobel,” I said, “the time has at last come when we must cease keeping -pigs. I love to be surrounded by affection, but I believe we have kept -this pig long enough. An attic is no place in which to run a modern -swine industry. It is too far from the nearest bath tub. Bathe him now, -if you would bathe him at all, for he is going back to the farm.” - -“If we packed him in a trunk,” said Isobel thoughtfully, paying no -attention to the bath suggestion, “we might send him back to the farmer -by express, and Mr. Rolfs and Mr. Millington would never know we had--” - -“That is a good idea,” I said, “except that we do not know the name of -the farmer, and that the Interurban does not deliver express parcels -twelve miles from Westcote--” - -“We might pack him in a suit case,” suggested Isobel. “If we packed him -in the suit case and pretended we were going on a picnic and that the -suit case was our lunch--I suppose Chesterfield will be some one's lunch -some day?” - -“Fine!” I said, and we began pretending we were going on a picnic. I -packed Chesterfield Whiting in the suit case, and then went down and had -Mr. Prawley harness the horse. I noticed that the policeman was still -hanging near our house, and that Mr. Millington was eyeing me from his -porch. - -“Ah! Millington!” I called cheerfully. “Fine day for a picnic! Isobel -and I are just off for one.” - -He came running over immediately. “Admirable!” he cried. “I was just -coming over to suggest that very thing. The automobile is running -beautifully this morning, and we four can run up to Port Lafayette--” - -Port Lafayette! - -“Millington,” I said, assuming an angry tone, “last evening you insulted -me, and you seem to think I will forgive you thus easily. No indeed! -I am not that sort of man, Millington. I will not take Isobel to Port -Lafayette, for I have promised to let you take us there, but we will -go on this picnic behind Bob. And if you see Rolfs just tell him what a -silly ass he made of himself, thinking I would be crazy enough to keep a -pig. I may be some kinds of a fool, Millington, but I am not that kind!” - -I think Millington blushed. He should have blushed. Saying I would keep -a pig, indeed! - -When I returned for Isobel and carried the suit case downstairs I felt -as light-hearted as a boy. Chesterfield was so well muzzled and gagged -that he made no sound whatever, and when I stepped from my door, with -Isobel by my side, I was pleased to see Rolfs stepping from his front -door, and I hailed him. He stopped, but he looked annoyed. - -“If you want to say anything ugly, say it quick,” he said, “for I'm in -a rush to catch a train, and if I just catch it, I can just catch the -ferry, to catch a train for Chicago. I can't stop now--” - -“Get in the buggy,” I said heartily, “we will drive you to the station. -Isobel and I are going on a little picnic. Put your suit case in the -back, with ours. We always carry our lunch in a suit case when we go -picnicing. Hop in!” - -“Well, it is kind of you,” said Rolfs rather sheepishly. “I hope you -did not feel hurt by what I said last night about pigs. I feel rather -strongly about pigs.” - -“Rolfs,” I said as I gathered up the reins, “I am not a man to nurse -hard feelings, but I must say--” - -“Look here!” said Rolfs, “I did not get into this buggy to listen to--” - -“You can get out again,” I said inhospitably, “any time you do not -like straight, honest talk. I mean nothing unneighbourly but when a man -accuses--” - -Without another word Rolfs jumped out, and grabbing his suit case, -walked haughtily away. I could not forbear giving him a little dig. - -“_Bon voyage_, Rolfs,” I called. “Don't get pigs on the brain to-night -again!” and Isobel and I laughed as we drove away. - -When the farmer saw us drive into his yard he seemed surprised, but he -was nice about it. He said he was willing to pay us back half what we -had paid him for Chesterfield Whiting, but we would not hear of it. - -“No,” I said firmly, “we have had our money's worth of pig!” - -Then I opened the suit case. - -It contained, among other things, a suit of pajamas, a tooth brush, four -shirts, six pair of socks, underwear, handkerchiefs, a book entitled -“The Complete Rights of the Citizen,” and twelve collars. But no pig. - -All the articles were of good quality, and most had Rolf's initials -on them. I must say the suit case contained a nice assortment of -haberdashery. But no pig. Not that I blamed Rolfs for not packing a -pig in his suit case, for he was going to Chicago where there are stock -yards full of pigs, if he should happen to want one. And a suit case is -no place for a pig, anyway. Imagine the feelings of a man in a sleeping -car when he has buckled the curtains of his berth around him, and has -partly undressed behind them. And then imagine him reaching down and -opening his suit case, expecting to find a suit of pajamas, and finding, -instead, a pig. Imagine him when the pig--a Chesterfield Whiting -pig--springs lightly forth and gives voice to his homesickness! - -[Illustration: 185] - - - - -IX. THE ROYAL GAME OR SEVERAL DAYS AFTER THE PIG EPISODE - -I refused to start for Port Lafayette in Millington's automobile, -although he used to lean over the fence and beg me almost tearfully, -but one fine morning he came over, and he looked so haggard and careworn -that I took pity on him. - -“John,” he said, as he led me to his garage, which was on the back of -his lot, “I am sure this automobile of mine is bewitched. I cannot think -of anything else that would make it behave as an automobile in good -health should, and I give you my word of honour that it is acting in -perfect rhythm, never slipping a cog nor missing fire. Of course, with -the machine behaving in that unaccountable manner, I would not dare to -start for Port Lafayette, but I want to run you around to the Country -Club. You ought to be in our Country Club, and I want you to see it, and -I want you to tell me what you think about this automobile of mine. I -can't understand it!” - -I have often noticed three things: I have noticed that a boy is never -really happy until he owns a dog; I have noticed that a flat-dweller is -never content until he owns a phonograph; but above all I have -noticed that the commuter--the man that lives in the sweet-scented, -tree-embowered suburbs--is restless and uneasy until he joins the -Country Club. So I accepted Millington's invitation. - -We ran out of his yard and half a block up the street, Millington -listening carefully all the while, and we could not hear a sound of -distress in any part of the automobile. Millington stopped the car and -got out. - -“I am going to walk to the Club,” he said. “I won't trust myself in that -car. As for you, as it was entirely for your sake I proposed this little -run to the Club, I am going to put the machine in your charge, and -you are to run it around the block until it resumes its normal bad -condition. From what I know of you and the remarks you have made while I -have tried to repair the engine, I believe you will soon have it making -all sorts of noises, and,” he added, “perhaps it will be making a noise -it never made before.” - -Then he showed me how to start, and what to touch if a tree or telephone -post got in my way, and then he went on to the Country Club. - -I was much touched by this evidence of Millington's faith in my ability -to bring out the bad points of his automobile, and as soon as he -disappeared I set to work, and I had hardly gone twice around the block -before I had it knocking more loudly than ever I had heard it knock. But -I was resolved to show Millington that his trust was not misplaced, -and I ran the nose of the machine into a tree, threw on the high speed -suddenly until I heard a grinding noise that told me the gears were -stripped. Then I left the car there and walked on to the Country Club. - -A Country Club is an institution conducted for the purpose of securing -as many new members as possible, in order that their initiation fees may -pay for the upkeep of the golf green. Aside from this, the object of the -club is to enable the men that mow the grass to make an honest living by -selling the golf balls they find while mowing the grass. - -The Membership Committee, on which Millington served, is a small body of -men whose duty it is to learn, as soon as possible, who that new man is -that moved into Billing's house, and to get twenty dollars in initiation -fees from him, before he has spent all his money for mosquito screens. - -When Millington said to me, in the way members of Country Clubs have, -“_You_ ought to be in our Country Club,” I was tickled. I did not -know then that Millington was on the membership committee, and his -willingness to admit me to fellowship seemed to show that I had been -promptly recognized as a desirable citizen of Westcote; a man worth -knowing; one of the inner circle of desirables. What more fully -convinced me was the eagerness of Mr. Rolfs. - -“We _must_ have you in,” said Rolfs. “I have been speaking to several -of the members about you, and they are all enthusiastic about taking you -in. Of course, our green is a little ragged just now, but when we get -your mon--when--of course, the green is a little ragged just now, but we -expect to have it trimmed soon, very soon.” - -Isobel was delighted when I told her I contemplated joining the Country -Club. She said it would do me all the good in the world to play a game -of golf now and then, and when I mentioned that I thought of taking -family membership, which would admit her to all the club privileges, she -was more than pleased. So were Mr. Rolfs and Mr. Millington. I forget -how many more dollars a family membership cost. They shook hands with -me warmly, and Millington said something to Rolfs about their now being -able to dump another load or two of sand on the bunker at the sixth -hole. They also said the ladies would be delighted. Many, they said, had -asked them why Isobel had not joined. - -Then they mentioned earnestly that the initiation fee and the first -year's dues were payable immediately. They even offered to send in my -check for the amount with my membership application. - -I had never played golf, but Millington said he would lend me an -excellent book on the game, written by one of the great players, and -Rolfs offered to pick me out a set of clubs. He was enthusiastic when we -went to the shop where clubs were sold, and I must say he did not allow -the clerk to foist off on me any old-fashioned, shopworn clubs. He said -with pride, as we left the shop, that, so far as he knew, every club I -had secured was absolutely new in model, and that not one club in the -lot was of a kind ever seen on the Westcote course before. Some he said, -he was sure had never been seen on any course anywhere. - -He said my putter would create great excitement when it appeared on the -course. I must give him credit for being right. The putter was, perhaps, -too much like a brass sledge-hammer to be graceful, and I found later -that it worked much better as a croquet mallet than as a tool for -putting a golf ball into a hole, but it was fine advertisement for a new -member. Members who might never have noticed me at all began to speak -of me immediately. They referred to me as “that fellow that Rolfs got to -buy the idiotic putter.” - -The golf course at our Westcote Country Club is one of the best I have -ever seen. It is almost free from those irregularities of ground that -make so many golf courses fretful. In selecting the ground the Committee -had in mind, I think, a billiard table, but as it was impossible -to secure a sufficiently large plot of ground as level as that near -Westcote, they secured the most level they could and then went over it -with a steam grader. The envious members of the Oakland Club speak of it -as the Westcote Croquet Grounds. - -The first day I appeared at the club I saw that golf was indeed a -difficult game, particularly after Mr. Millington had explained how it -was worked. He began by remarking that, of course, I could not expect to -do much with “that bunch of crazy scrap iron”--that being the manner in -which he referred to the up-to-date clubs Rolfs had selected for -me--and that no man who knew anything about golf ever used the -red-white-and-pink polka-dot balls, which were the kind Rolfs had -advised me to buy. Then he looked through my clubs scornfully and -selected my putter. - -“Usually,” he said ironically, “we begin with a driver, and drive the -ball as far as we can from this place, which is called the driving -green, but I think this tool, in your hands, will do as well as anything -else in your collection of kitchen cutlery. What do you call this tool, -anyway?” - -I looked at the label on the handle and read it. I told Millington it -was a putter, but he would not believe me. I showed him the label, which -said quite plainly “putter,” but he was still skeptical. He did not -deny positively that it was a putter; he merely said, “Well, if this -instrument of torture is a putter, I'll eat it.” - -[Illustration: 201] - -Mr. Millington then made a little mound of sand which he took from the -green sandbox, and set one of my golf balls on top of the mound. This, I -soon learned, is called “teeing” the ball. - -“Now,” said Mr. Millington, “I will explain the game. When the ball is -teed as you see it here, you take the club and hit the ball so it will -travel low and straight through the air as far as possible toward that -red flag you see yonder. The ball will alight on the fair green. You -follow it, and hit it again, and it should then alight fairly and -squarely on the putting-green. You then follow it, take the pole that -bears the flag out of the hole you will find there, and gently knock -your ball into the hole. That is all there is to the game.” - -“But what shall I do,” I asked, “if my first knock at the ball carries -it beyond the flag?” - -Mr. Millington glanced at the patent putter I held in my hand, and -sighed. - -“Excuse me,” he said, “but the rules of the game permit one to grasp the -club with both hands.” - -“I guess,” I said airily, “until I get the swing of it I will grasp the -club with one hand. I only use one hand in playing croquet.” - -“In that case,” said Mr. Millington, “if you knock the ball past the -flag I will eat the flag. I will also eat the ball. Also the thing you -call a putter. If you knock the ball half way to the flag, I will eat -all the grass on this golf course.” - -“Be careful, Millington,” I warned him. “You may have to eat that grass. -Now, stand back and let me have a fair whack at the ball.” - -With that I swung the putter around my head two or three times, to -gather the necessary impetus, and then hit the ball a terrible whack. I -put my full strength into the blow, for I wanted to show Millington that -I had the making of a golfer in me; but when my putter ceased revolving -around me Millington seemed unimpressed. I put my hand above my eyes and -gazed into the far distance, hoping to catch sight of the ball when it -alighted. But I did not see it. - -[Illustration: 205] - -“Millington,” I said, “did you see where that ball went?” - -“I did,” he said, turning to the left. “It went over there, into that -tall grass. It is a lost ball. Every ball that goes into that tall grass -is gone forever. I have never known any one to recover a ball that fell -in that tall grass.” - -Then he stepped proudly to the sand-box and made another tee. - -“Hand me a ball,” he said, “and I will show you the proper way to hit -it.” - -I gave him a ball and he placed it carefully on the tee. Then he -grasped his driver in both hands, snuggled the head of it up to the ball -lovingly, drew back the club and struck the ball. I was not quick enough -to see the ball go, but Millington was. - -“Fine!” he exclaimed. “I sliced it a little, but I must have got good -distance. I must have driven that ball two hundred yards.” - -“But where did it go?” I asked. - -“Well,” said Millington, “I did slice it a little. It went off there to -the right, into that tall grass. It is a lost ball. I have never known -any one to recover a ball that fell in that tall grass. But let me have -another ball and I will show you--” - -I told Millington I guessed I would lose a couple of balls myself while -I had a few left, if it was not against the rules. He said no, a player -could lose as many as he wished; in fact many players lost more than -they wished. - -I found this to be so. We played around the nine holes and I made a -score of 114, and Millington was delighted. He said it was a splendid -score to turn in to the handicapping committee, and that he wished he -could make a large, safe score like that. He said no one in the club had -ever made more than 110 and that the average was about 45. Then he said -I need not lose hope, for at any rate I had not lost a ball at every -stroke. He said he had imagined when he saw me play that I would lose -a ball at every stroke, for my style of playing--my “form” he called -it--was the sort that ought to lose me one ball for every stroke. - -When I reached home I found Isobel awaiting me, and, without thinking, I -blurted out that I had lost thirty-eight golf balls. Her mouth hardened. - -“John,” she said, “I have been talking with Mrs. Rolfs and Mrs. -Millington about this game of golf, and what they say has given me an -entirely different opinion of it. When I advised you to take it up I had -no idea it was a gambling game, but they both tell me the matches are -often played for a stake of balls. Mrs. Rolfs says her husband has -accumulated eighty balls in this way, and Mrs. Millington says her -husband has laid up a store of over fifty. And now, when you come home -and tell me you have lost, in one afternoon, thirty-eight golf balls, at -a cost of fifty cents each, I feel that golf is a wicked, sinful game. I -do not want to seem severe, but I do not approve of gambling, and if you -continue to lose so many golf balls you will have to give up the game.” - - - - -X. ADVANCED GOLF - - -THAT evening Millington dropped over to chat for a few minutes, and he -was in good spirits. He told me he had found the automobile where I had -left it with its nose against the tree, and that it had been necessary -to hire a team to pull it home. Isobel said she would never forget the -pleased expression on Millington's face as he saw the helpless machine -being towed into his yard, and between what both of them said I felt -rightly proud at having lifted such a load from his mind. - -“Now,” said Millington cheerfully, “we can all start for Port Lafayette -in the morning. I will get up at four to-morrow morning and tinker -at the motor, and by nine, or ten at the latest, we will be ready to -start.” - -At ten the next morning, therefore, Isobel and I went over to -Millington's garage, but our first glimpse of him told us all was not -well. He was sitting on the garage step with his head buried in his -arms, while his wife was sitting beside him, vainly endeavouring to -console him. For awhile he made no response to my queries, and then he -only raised his mournful face and pointed at the automobile. He was too -overcome for words, and his wife had to give us the awful facts. - -“This morning at four,” she said, “Edward came out and prepared to do -what he could to repair the motor you had so kindly put to the bad. -He was then his usual, cheerful self. He leaped lightly into the -chauffeur's seat, touched the starting lever, and, to his utter -distress, the automobile moved smoothly out of the garage and down the -driveway, without a single misplaced throb or sign of disorder. There -was nothing the matter with the automobile at all. Not a thing to -repair. It was as if it had just come from the factory. Of course he -immediately gave up all idea of the little run to Port Lafayette. Now, -there is only one thing to be done. You must take the machine and run -it around the block until it is in a fit condition to be repaired. I am -afraid you did not do a good job yesterday.” - -Although I felt rather hurt by the last words, I was not a man to desert -Millington in his need, and without a word I jumped into the automobile -and started. That morning I put in some hard work. It seemed that the -automobile had repaired itself so well that nothing would ever be the -matter with it again, but by persistent efforts and by doing everything -an amateur could possibly do to ruin an automobile, I succeeded in -developing its weak spots. Not until noon was I satisfied, but when the -horses at last pulled the automobile into Millington's garage I felt I -had done my duty. I had mashed the hood and cracked a cylinder, dished -the left front wheel and absolutely ruined all the battery connections. -I would have defied any man to make that automobile run one inch. It had -been hard work, but I was amply repaid when Millington threw his -arms around me and wept for joy on my shoulder. He was not usually a -demonstrative man. - -“Next week, or the week after, John,” he said cheerfully, as he took off -his coat, “I may have the machine patched up a little, and we will take -that little run out to Port Lafayette. I feel that the trip has been -delayed too long already, and I shall get to work at once.” - -“If you wish,” I said, “I will lend you Mr. Prawley to hold things while -you work on them.” - -“Prawley?” said Millington. “Prawley? That man of yours? No, thank you, -John. That man Prawley is so fearful of automobiles that he trembles at -the sight of a pair of goggles. He would die of fear if we forced him -into this garage.” - -I left Millington whistling over his work, and that afternoon I took -my putter and went to the golf grounds alone, for I had spent half the -night reading the golf book Mr. Rolfs had lent me, and I saw I had not -gone at the game in the right way. I knew now that I should have held my -club with my right hand more to the right--or to the left--and my right -foot nearer the ball--or not so near it--and with the head of my club -heeled up more--or not so much. The directions given by the book were -very explicit. They said a player must invariably lay his thumb along -the shaft of the club, unless he wrapped it around the shaft, or let it -stick up like a sore toe, or cut it off and got along without it, or did -something else with it. The book seemed to imply that the proper way -for a beginner to learn golf was to lock himself in a dark closet and -indulge in silent meditation until he became an expert player, but -the closets in my house were so narrow and shallow I felt I could not -meditate broadly in them. So I went to the Country Club. - -I met young Weldorf there, and as soon as he saw me he immediately -proposed a round. He said he had wanted to play a round with me ever -since he had heard of my clubs. He said he hoped I would not mind his -dog being along, for the dog took a lively interest in the game of golf. - -So I told Weldorf I loved dogs and that I thought a dog or two scattered -around the links added greatly to the picturesqueness of the game. -Weldorf's dog was a rather thin dog, of the white terrier kind, with -black spots, and Weldorf explained that the reason there were bare, -flesh-coloured spots on the dog was because he was just recovering from -an attack of mange. - -Weldorf drove first, and a beautiful drive it was, and with a gay bark -the dog darted after the ball, but Weldorf spoke to him sternly, and he -stopped short, although he still gazed after the ball yearningly. Then I -drove. I exerted the whole of my enormous strength in that drive, and -I think I surprised Weldorf. I know I surprised the dog. If I had -been that dog, I, too, would have been surprised. There stood the dog, -looking at Weldorf's ball, wagging his tail and thinking of nothing, and -here came my ball with terrific speed. Suddenly the ball hit the dog -on the hip with a splashy sort of smack, and immediately the dog was -impelled forward and upward, giving voice, as we dog-fanciers say. He -gave voice three times while in the air, and when he alighted he put his -tail between his legs and dashed madly away. - -[Illustration: 219] - -We were not able to retrieve the dog until we reached the third teeing -ground, and then I apologized to him. He did not accept my apology. He -looked upon my most friendly advances with unjust suspicion. He seemed -to have no faith in my game, and kept well to the rear of me, but when -Weldorf addressed him in a few well-chosen words he unlooped his tail -and wagged it in a halfhearted sort of way. I decided to ignore the dog. -I raised the hinged lid of the sandbox and took out a large handful of -sand to form my tee, and letting the lid fall took a step forward. - -Immediately the dog gave voice! Weldorf had to raise the lid of the -sand-box before the dog was able to get his tail out, but as soon as he -had reassumed full control of his tail he placed it firmly between his -legs and dashed madly away. It is nonsense to have a golf dog with a -long tail. - -By the time we reached the sixth putting-green the dog had begun to -get lonely, and assumed a cheerful demeanour. He returned to us with -ingratiating poses, mainly sliding along the ground on his stomach as he -approached, and I was glad to see him happy again, for I love dogs and -I like to have them happy. He stood afar off, however, until he saw -our balls on the putting-green. He knew that golfers do not “putt” as -strenuously as they “drive.” Then he came nearer. I took the flag-pole -from the hole and let it fall gracefully to the ground. Without an -instant of hesitation the dog gave voice! It was a long flag-pole, -made of a plump bamboo fish-rod, and when it fell it seemed to strike -directly on the eighth dorsal vertebra of the dog, at a spot where he -was not recovering very well from the mange. - -Weldorf said he had no doubt the dog would find his way home, and we -stood and listened until the voice the dog was giving died away in the -far distance, and then we holed out. It is nonsense for a dog to have -dorsal vertebrae. - -When we reached the seventh hole I found that the grounds committee -was already using my initiation fee, for the grass mowers were at work -there, and a man with a rake immediately stepped up to me, and said in -the most friendly manner that he would be willing to part with some -golf balls for money, if I would say nothing about it to the Board of -Governors. He had sixteen, nine of which I recognized as some of those -I had lost the day before, and he very generously offered to let me have -the lot at fifteen cents each. I purchased them eagerly, and the man who -was driving the mower at once descended and offered me twelve more -at the same price. Between there and the ninth hole numerous caddies -appeared from behind trees and bunkers and offered me balls at -ridiculously low prices, and I, quite naturally, took advantage of their -offers. - -When I reached home Isobel asked me how I was progressing with my game. -“Well,” I said, “I return with forty-two more golf balls than I had when -I went out.” - -Instantly her face brightened. She congratulated me warmly and said she -was sure Mrs. Rolfs and Mrs. Millington had overstated the evils of the -game. She said she thought she could see an improvement in my health -already. She advised me to keep at the game until my health was beyond -compare. - -I now know that the book Mr. Rolfs lent me is mere piffle and that, for -a man who takes his golf in the right way, a broom or a hairpin is as -good as any other tool. I enjoy the game immensely, and find it great -sport. Often I come home with fifty golf balls, and my low record is -eighteen--but that was a legal holiday and the grass mowers were on -vacation. I have so many golf balls in the house already that Isobel -talks of having an addition built over the kitchen for storage purposes. -As my game has improved I have acquired such dexterity that I can buy -balls from the caddies at the rate of four for twenty-five cents. If I -practise regularly I believe I shall in time reach a point where I can -buy balls for five cents each. By holes, my best score is thirty-eight -balls, made at the eighth hole on July 6th, from the red-headed caddy -and the fat mowing man. My low score is one ball, made August 16th, at -the first hole. I never make a large score there, as it is near the club -house and the caddies are afraid of the Board of Governors. - -When golf is taken rightly it arouses the instincts of the chase in a -man, and I now feel the same joy in running down a caddy and bargaining -for found balls that others feel in hunting wild animals. Golf, taken -thus, is a splendid game. - -And I have found that if I use my putter only, and knock the ball but a -few yards each stroke, there is no need of losing a ball from one end of -the year to the other. But even then one must remember the cardinal rule -of all golfers--“Keep the eye on the ball.” - - - - -XI. MY DOMESTICATED AUTOMOBILE - - -I HAVE said that I left Millington happily working over his automobile -when I went to the Country Club that afternoon. When I returned he -was still working away, and so well had I wrecked his car that all his -repairing seemed to have made not the slightest impression on it. - -“John,” he said brightly, “you certainly did a good job. It will be -months before I have this car in any shape at all, I am sure. It is -going to take all my spare time, too. I mean to set my alarm clock for -three, and get up at that time every morning.” - -It is always a pleasure for me to see another man happy, and at -half-past two the next morning I was waiting for Millington at his -garage door. He came out of his house promptly at three, and joked -merrily as he unlocked the garage door, but the moment he threw open the -door his face fell. And well it might! The dished wheel had been trued, -the crushed hood had been straightened and painted, a new cylinder had -replaced the cracked one, and when Millington tried the engine it -ran without a sound except that of a perfectly working piece of -well-adjusted machinery. Millington got out of the car and stood staring -at the motor, and suddenly, with a low cry of anguish, he fell over -backward as stiff as a log. Mrs. Millington and I managed to carry him -to bed, and then I returned to the garage. I was not going to desert -Millington in his adversity. - -After the doctor had visited the house, Mrs. Millington came out -and told me that her husband was still in a comatose state, due to -brain-shock, but that he kept repeating “Sell it! Sell it!” over and -over, and she was sure he must mean the car. She said that while -she would hate to part with the car, and give up all the pleasure of -starting for Port Lafayette, she feared for her husband's reason if he -continued to receive such shocks, and she was willing to sacrifice -the car at a very low price, if I insisted. She said I had not, like -Millington, become habituated to hearing a knocking in the engine, so' -the lack of it would not bother me, and that owning a car that repaired -itself over night was what most automobile owners would call a golden -opportunity. - -I suppose if I had come home and said to Isobel: “My dear, I have bought -an Asiatic hyena,” she would have been less shocked and surprised than -she was when I entered the house and said: “Well, my dear, I have bought -an automobile.” - -Isobel is of a rather nervous disposition, and driving behind Bob, our -horse, had tended to eliminate any latent speed mania she may have ever -had, for Bob is not a rapid horse. Of course, Isobel drove the horse at -a trot occasionally, but that was when she wanted to go slower than a -walk, for Bob was what may be called an upright trotter--one of those -horses that trot like a grasshopper: the harder they trot the higher -they rise in the air, and the less ground they cover. When Bob was -in fine fettle, as we horsemen say, he could trot for hours with a -perpendicular motion, like a sewing machine needle, and remain in one -identical spot the whole time. He could trot tied to a post. Sometimes -when he was feeling his oats he could trot backward. - -I suppose that when I mentioned automobile Isobel had a vision of a -bright-red car about twenty-five feet long, with a tonnage like an ocean -steamer, and a speed of one hundred and ten miles an hour--one of the -machines that flash by with a wail of agony and kill a couple of men -just around the next corner. But Millington's automobile was not that -kind. It was a tried and tested affair. It had been in a Christian -family for five years, and was well broken. Nor was it a long -automobile; it was one of the shortest automobiles I have ever seen; -indeed, I do not think I ever saw such a short automobile. “Short and -high” seemed to have been the maker's motto, and he had lived up to it. -He couldn't have made the automobile any shorter without having cogs -on the tires, so they could overlap. If the automobile had been much -shorter the rear wheels would have been in front of the fore wheels. -But what it lacked in length it made up in altitude. It averaged pretty -well, multiplying the height by the length. It was the type known in the -profession as the “camel type.” When in action it had a motion somewhat -like a camel, too, but more like a small boat on a wintry, wind-tossed -sea. But, ah! the engine! There was a noble heart in that weak body! -When the engine was in average knocking condition, one knew when it -started. In two minutes after the engine started the driver was on the -ground; if he did not become dizzy, sitting at such a height, and fall -off, the engine shook him off. - -But, if Isobel did not take kindly to the idea of owning Millington's -automobile, Rolfs seemed glad I was going to buy it. - -“You won't be everlastingly asking me to take a little run up to Port -Lafayette,” he said. “For years before you moved out here Millington -bothered the life out of me, and I cannot bear riding in automobiles. I -hate them worse than that hired man of yours does. How does he like the -idea?” - -I told him, rather haughtily, that I did not usually consult Mr. Prawley -when I bought automobiles. Then Rolfs said he thought, usually, it was -just as well for an ignorant man to consult some one, but that he knew -Millington's automobile was a good one. He said he knew the man that had -owned the machine ten or twelve years before Millington bought it. He -said that every one knew that machines of that make that were made -in 1895 were extremely durable. He said he remembered about this one -particularly, because it was the period when milk shakes were the -popular drink, and his friend used to make his own. He said his friend -would put the ingredients in a bottle, and tie the bottle to the -automobile seat, and then start the engine for a minute or two, and the -milk would be completely shaken. So would his friend. - -Rolfs asked me to let him know when I brought the automobile over -from Millington's. I had no difficulty in doing so. When I ran that -automobile the only difficulty was in concealing the fact that it was -arriving anywhere and in getting it to arrive. Often it preferred not to -arrive at all, but when it did arrive, it gave every one notice. Isobel -never had to wonder whether I was arriving in my machine, or whether it -was some visitor in another machine. Under my regime my machine had a -sweet, purring sound like a road-roller loaded with scrap iron crossing -a cobblestone bridge. When the engine was going and the car was not, it -sounded like giant fire-crackers exploding under a dish pan. - -The very day I purchased the car and brought it into my yard Mr. Prawley -came to me and told me he had a very important communication to make. He -said his poor old mother was sick, and he would like a month's vacation. -He added that he imagined the automobile would last about twenty-nine -days. As he said this his lean, villainous face wore a look of fear, -and when I told him he could have the vacation, he departed, walking -backward, keeping one eye on the automobile all the while. - -But the automobile did not behave in the bewitched manner for me that -it had for Millington. It did not repair itself over night at all. If -anything it deteriorated. - -Oddly enough, now that the automobile was quite tame, Isobel, who -usually has perfect confidence in me, declined to ride in it. But -frequently we took rides together, driving side by side, she in her -buggy behind Bob, and I in my automobile, and, occasionally, when the -road was rough and the engine working well, I would drop in on her -unexpectedly. But not always. Sometimes I fell off on the other side. - -I found these little trips very pleasant and exceedingly good for a -torpid liver--if I had had one--and I enjoyed having Isobel with me, -especially when we came to bits of sandy road where the rear wheels of -my automobile would revolve uselessly, as if for the mere pleasure of -revolving. - -Then I would unhitch Bob from the buggy and hitch him to the automobile, -and he would tow me over the sandy stretch, aided by the engine. It was -a pretty picture to see this helpfulness, one to the other, especially -when my engine was palpitating in its wild, vibratory manner, and Bob -was trotting at full speed, while I fell out of the automobile, first on -one side and then on the other. - -Isobel enjoyed these little moments exceedingly and often I had to go -back to her, after I had passed the sandy spot, and pat her on the back -until she could get her breath again. She had to admit that she had -never imagined she could get so much pleasure out of an automobile. But -it was that kind of an automobile--any one could get more pleasure out -of it than in it. - -I myself found that after the first novelty wore off automobiling became -a bore. As a method of securing pleasure the cost per gallon to each -unit of joy was too high, in that machine. Riding in my machine was not -what is called “joy riding.” It was more like a malady. - -[Illustration: 237] - -Of course we never attempted a long tour, like that to Port Lafayette, -which is eleven miles from Westcote, and it was about the time my tire -troubles began that I thought of domesticating my automobile. I remember -with what pride I discovered my first puncture. Every automobile owner -of my acquaintance had tire troubles, and I had never had any, and I -felt slighted. Sometimes I felt tempted to take an awl and puncture a -tire myself, so I, too, could talk about my tire troubles, but I had a -feeling that that would be unprofessional. I had never heard of any real -sporty automobilist punching holes in his tires with awls; in fact they -seemed to consider there was no particular pleasure in punctured tires. -That was the way they talked--as if a puncture was a misfortune--but I -knew better. I could hear the undercurrent of pride in their voices -as they announced: “Well, I had three punctures and two blow-outs -yesterday. I was running along slowly, about fifty-five miles an hour, -between Oyster Bay and Huntington, when--” And then the next man would -pipe up and say: “Yes? Well, I beat that. I was speeding a little--not -much, but about sixty miles an hour--on the Jericho Turnpike last night, -and all four tires--” And through it all I had to sit silent. I longed -to be able to say: “I was speeding along yesterday at about half a mile -an hour, the machine going better than usual, when suddenly I jumped out -and stuck my penknife into the forward, left-hand tire--” I had never -had a puncture. I was not in their class. - -But my turn came. I was speeding a little--about one city block every -five minutes--on Thirteenth Street, when my sparker stopped sparking. -When your engine misses fire there are six hundred and forty-two things -that may be the matter, and after you have tested the six hundred -and forty-two, it may be an entirely new six hundred and forty-third -trouble. I have known a man to try the full six hundred and forty-two -remedies unavailingly, and then sigh and wipe his goggles, and the -engine began working beautifully. And it was only by chance--pure -chance--that he happened to wipe his goggles. Probably he had not wiped -them for years. But after that the first thing he did when his engine -did not fire was to wipe them. And never, never again did it have the -least effect on the engine. That is one of the peculiar things about an -automobile. And there are nine hundred and ninety-nine other peculiar -things, each of which is more peculiar than all the rest. - -[Illustration: 243] - -I had just taken my automobile apart to discover why the engine did not -work, and the various pieces of its anatomy were scattered up and down -the street for a block or more, and I was hunting up another piece -to take out, when I noticed that one of my tires was flat. I had a -puncture! I suppose I would have thrilled with joy at any other time, -but just after a man has dissected his automobile is no time for him to -thrill. He has other things to amuse him. I have even known a man who -had just discovered that his last battery had gone dead to swear a -little when he discovered that two tires had also gone flat. - -It was when I was pumping up that new inner tube that I decided to -domesticate my automobile. It seemed to be a shame to take such a -delicate piece of machinery out on the rough, unfeeling road, and I -remembered that Rolfs had told me of a Philadelphia friend of his who -had half domesticated his automobile. Rolfs said that once, when he was -foolish, he had ridden half an hour, out to his friend's farm, and there -the automobile was jacked up and a belt attached to one of the rear -wheels, and in less than five minutes the car was doing duty as a piece -of farm machinery, running a feed cutter. Rolfs said it was great. He -said it was the only time he ever felt satisfied that an automobile was -getting what it deserved. He said that all the men had to do was to keep -the fodder-cutter fed with fodder, and that it kept two farm hands busy. -He said I ought to get some fodder and cut it that way and stop being -an obstruction in the public highways. He suggested that I get some wood -and saw wood with the automobile, or get some apples and make cider. He -suggested a thousand things I could do with the automobile, and not one -of them was riding in it. - -I had tried riding in it myself, and after owning it a week or two I -decided it was just the kind of automobile that was meant to do general -household work. So I domesticated it. - - - - -XII. MR. PRAWLEY RETURNS - -MARY was one of the most faithful servants a family ever had. Her -faithfulness deserves this monument. She was a Pole and she could not -pronounce her own name. She tried to pronounce it the first day she -came to us, but along toward the sixth or seventh syllable she became -confused and had to give it up. She said it was Schneider in English. -Perhaps the reason she remained with us so long was because she had -brought her Polish name with her, and it was too much trouble to move -it from place to place. When she once got in a place, she liked to stay -there. But “Schneider” was about the only English word she knew, -and this made it a little difficult to explain to her that I had -domesticated the automobile and would allow her to use it on wash day. -I had to make a picture of it, and even then she seemed rather doubtful -about it. - -As a matter of fact it was all very simple, but Mary Schneider was -stupid. We already had the washing machine, and we had the automobile, -and it was only necessary to connect the rear wheel of the automobile -with the drive wheel of the washing machine by means of a belt, jack up -the rear axle of the automobile, and start the engine. I hoped in -time to go further than this and hitch up the coffee mill, the -carpet-sweeper, the ice-cream freezer, and all our other household -machinery, and then Mary Schneider would have a very easy time of it. -She could have sat in the automobile with her hands on the speed levers -and the work would have done itself. But Mary would not sit in the -automobile. She tried to explain that she had seen me sit in it and that -the Schneiders, as a family, had very brittle bones and could not afford -to fall out of automobiles of such height, but I could not understand -what she was saying. I only understood that she said she would give -notice immediately if she had to sit in that automobile while the -palpitator was jiggering. - -I had a feeling that all this was mere diffidence on her part, and that -when she once saw how easy it all was she would be delighted with it. -So I jacked up the rear axle of the car in my backyard, and attached the -clothesline as a belt to the rear wheel and to the drive wheel of the -washing machine. I remained at home one Monday morning especially to do -this, and Isobel thought it was very kind of me. She said she was sure -Mary could do it, and would be glad to, after she had once seen how it -was done. - -Mary put the soap in the washing machine, and the hot water, and the -clothes, and I started the automobile engine. It was all I had hoped. -Never, never had I seen clothes washed so rapidly. Luckily I had thought -to nail the legs of the washing machine to the floor of the back porch. -This steadied the washing machine and kept it from jumping more than it -did. Of course, some vibration was conveyed along the rope belt from the -automobile, and Mary had to hasten to and fro bringing more hot water to -refill the washing machine. It was like a storm at sea, or a geyser, or -a large hot fountain. When we had the automobile going at full speed -the water hardly entered the washing machine before it dashed madly out -again. - -Isobel had to help by putting more clothes in the washing machine. It -used up clothes as rapidly as Rolf's friend's fodder-cutter used -up fodder, but I think it cut the clothes into smaller pieces. We -discovered this when we hunted up the clothes later. We did not notice -it at the time. All was excitement. - -It was a proud moment for me. The engine was running as well as it ever -did, the dasher of the washing machine was dashing to and fro with hot -water, and Mrs. Rolfs and Mrs. Millington were cheering us on. I -began to believe we would break all records for clothes washing if Mary -and Isobel could only keep water and clothes in the washing machine. -Just then I fell out of the automobile. - -Possibly the sudden removal of my weight had an effect. It may have been -that my head in striking one of the rear wheels moved the axle. Of this -I can never be sure. The rear axle unjacked itself, and as the rear -wheels touched the ground the automobile darted away. I was just able to -touch the washing machine as it hurried by, but it did not wait for me -to secure a firm hold, and it went on its way. But Mary was faithful to -the last. She--ignorant though she was--knew that the weekly wash should -not dash off in this manner. She--although but a Pole, knew her duty and -did it. Mary hung onto the washing machine. Whither the wash went she -was going. And so she did. Rapidly, too. - -The rear porch was not badly damaged. Only those boards to which the -washing machine had been nailed went with it, but where the automobile -went through the back fence we had to make extensive repairs. But it -was all for the best. If the automobile had not made a hole in the fence -Mary could not have gone through. Of course, she could have gone around -by the gate, but she would have lost time, and she was not losing any -time. Neither was the washing machine. The automobile did not gain an -inch on it, and sometimes when the washing machine made a good jump it -overtook the automobile. So did Mary. - -I saw then that I had not thoroughly domesticated the automobile. As -we stood and watched the automobile and the washing machine and Mary -dashing rapidly away in the distance, we felt that the automobile was -still a little too wild for household use, but I fully believed the -automobile would be tame enough before it reached home again. A young, -strong automobile may be able to take cross country runs without ill -effects, but an elderly automobile, like the one I bought of Millington, -cannot dash across country towing a washing machine and a Polish -servant, whose name is Schneider in English, without danger to its -constitution. I do not blame the washing machine--it could not let go, -it was belted on--but if Mary had had presence of mind she would have -released her grasp when she found the strain was too much for the -automobile. But it is strange how differently the minds of male and -female run. As I watched the automobile disappear over the edge of the -hill I said: - -“Isobel, I guess that ends that automobile,” But Isobel said: - -“John, I am afraid we have lost Mary.” And yet that automobile and that -Pole were the last two in the world I should ever have suspected of -running away with each other. She came back later in the day, but she -did not say much. She packed her trunk and took her wages, and remarked -a remark that sounded like the English word Schneider translated into -Polish. The washing machine did not return. - -When Millington came out to the fence that evening I told him that I was -done with automobiling, and that the automobile was probably mashed to -flinders. He had been looking bad, but he brightened at the words. - -“John,” he said, “if that automobile is wrecked as badly as it should -be after running wild with a tail of washing machines and -Schneiders-in-English, I'll buy it back. I'll give--I'll give you five -dollars for it.” - -He must have seen the eagerness in my eyes, for he remarked quickly: - -“I'll give you two dollars and forty-five cents for it!” - -“I'll take it!” I said instantly. - -“It is mine!” said Millington, and he handed over the money. - -As soon as it was in my pocket I heard a rustling in the currant bushes -at my left, and Mr. Prawley raised his head above them. - -“Mother's well again,” he said. “I've come back!” - - - - -XIII. MILLINGTON'S MOTOR MYSTERY - - -MILLINGTON and I hunted up the automobile the next day, and it was in -worse condition than I had imagined. The only way the car could be got -back to his garage was on a truck, but we got it there, and unloaded -it, and Millington hunted up all his tools and got them ready to use the -next day. It was late by that time, and we locked the garage and went to -bed. - -All night I worried over having taken two dollars and forty-five -cents from Millington for that collection of old metal that had been a -motor-car, and as early as possible the next morning I took the money -and went over to Millington's. I found him just going out to the garage, -and he positively refused to take back the money. He said the car was -in just the condition he wanted it, and that if I hadn't knocked the -witchery out of it no one could. He said he hoped--and just then he -opened the garage door. - -There stood the automobile, on the very spot where we had left it, but -there was not a scratch on it. Except that it was an ancient model, it -might have been a brand new car. Even the brasswork had been polished, -and at the first glance the tires seemed new, but we found they had only -been carefully repaired and painted drab. - -Millington stood looking at the automobile a few minutes and then -laughed. He turned to me with a strangely contorted face and said: -“Uncle Tom, you are invited to take a ride with Cleopatra in my air-ship -to-night at midnight.” - -Millington said this in a very calm voice, but he immediately followed -it by asking me to have a piece of strawberry pie, and instead of pie he -offered me the can of gear grease. I managed to coax him into the -house, and when the doctor arrived he advised absolute rest. He said -Millington's brain was not yet permanently affected, but that another -such shock would be too much for him. He said that for the present we -must humour him, and try to make him believe that the automobile was -damaged beyond recovery. It seemed to have a soothing effect, and to aid -his recovery I got into the car, ran it into the street, aimed it at a -stone wall opposite Millington's window, threw on the high speed, and -jumped to one side. One minute later the machine was afire, and half -an hour later little was left of it but the metal parts, and they were -badly warped. - -Mr. Prawley came out when he saw the fire, and a look of the most -fiendish joy glittered in his eyes. Never have I seen a man show -such pleasure over the destruction of an automobile. His hatred of -automobiles seemed to be endless and bottomless. - -When I told Millington that his automobile was now in about as bad -condition as man could put it into, he sat up in bed, and the light of -sanity came into his eyes. He walked to the window and looked out at the -car, and became his old cheerful self again. He said that there was no -doubt now that the devils in the car had been exorcised, and that with -a few weeks work he could get it back into such shape that the engine -would be working properly, and we would then, he said take that little -run up to Port Lafayette. He then took a little nourishment, and by -night he was quite himself again. When he had had his dinner I went home -and had mine, and went to bed at once, for I knew Millington would be at -work soon after sun-up. - -I had hardly got into bed, however, when I began to fear that -Millington's eagerness would get the best of him, and at ten o'clock I -went over to his house. I found him in bed and awake and cheerful, but -he said he did not mean to get up. He said it was against his policy to -get up the day before in order to be up the next day, so I sat by his -bed and read chapters from a dear little work of fiction entitled “Easy -Remedies for Ignition Troubles,” until the clock struck twelve, and then -Millington hopped out of bed and threw on his clothes. - -The moment we stepped from the back door the same thing struck us both -with surprise. There was a light in the garage! - -My first thought was that some rascal was in the garage trying to -ruin Millington's automobile, but a second thought assured me this was -impossible. Ruin could be carried no farther than I had carried it. -Bidding Millington be silent, I crept cautiously toward the garage, with -Millington at my heels, and without a sound we peered in at the window. -The sight was one that would have shaken the strongest man. - -Bending over the motor, with his face made unearthly by the artificial -light that fell upon it obliquely, casting deep shadows, was that -villain, Mr. Prawley! I have never seen anything so devilish as that -wretch as he worked with inhuman agility and haste. His long, claw-like -fingers danced from one part of the machine to another fiendishly, and a -hideous grin distorted his features. He was humming some weird tune, and -I noted that he was ambidextrous, for he was varnishing the hood with -one hand while with the other he was putting in a new spark plug. A -tremor of horror passed over Millington and over me at the same moment. -A few whispered words, a few stealthy steps, and we burst in and seized -Mr. Prawley by the arms. In a moment we had him on the floor of the -garage, bound hand and foot. - -Millington was for wreaking immediate vengeance on him, but I stood -firmly for a more lawful course, and the next day we handed him over to -the authorities, and his whole miserable story came out. His name was -not Mr. Prawley at all. Neither was it Alonzo Duggs, which was the name -he he had given us when Isobel and I hired him. His name was William -Alexander Vandergribbin. He came of good family, but mania for speeding -automobiles had brought him to ruin, and the third time he was arrested -for over-speeding a sentence of thirty years in the penitentiary had -been pronounced by the judge. The judge, however, had suspended the -sentence provided that William Alexander Vandergribbin never again -touched an automobile. - -For several years Vandergribbin fought down his appetite. Then he -fell. He changed his name to Flossy Zozo, and secured a job as the -death-defying loop-the-gappist with the big show. For a time the -speeding down the runway in the fake automobile, with the somersault at -the bottom of the run, appeased his cravings, but the rules of the -show prohibited him from tinkering with the fake automobile, which was -strictly in charge of the property man, and Vandergribbin left the show, -changed his name to Alonzo Duggs, and seeking our quiet town, chose work -in the house nearest the man owning the oldest automobile. For weeks he -had watched his opportunity--you know the rest. He is now in Sing Sing. - -I am sorry to end this story so abruptly, but Millington has just -come over to ask if I would not like to take a little run out to Port -Lafayette. I have always wanted to go to Port Lafayette, which is about -eleven miles from here; so, if you will excuse me, I will go and button -Isobel's matinee gown, and we will be off. - - -END - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Adventures Of A Suburbanite, by -Ellis Parker Butler - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ADVENTURES OF A SUBURBANITE *** - -***** This file should be named 44153-0.txt or 44153-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/4/1/5/44153/ - -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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