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diff --git a/45136-8.txt b/45136-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index e27f91e..0000000 --- a/45136-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7657 +0,0 @@ - HE COMES UP SMILING - - - - -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 http://www.gutenberg.org/license. - - - -Title: He Comes Up Smiling -Author: Charles Sherman -Release Date: March 14, 2014 [EBook #45136] -Language: English -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HE COMES UP SMILING *** - - - - -Produced by Al Haines. - - - - - - HE COMES UP - SMILING - - - _By_ - - CHARLES SHERMAN - - - - WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY - ARTHUR WILLIAM BROWN - - - - INDIANAPOLIS - THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY - PUBLISHERS - - - - - COPYRIGHT 1912 - THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY - - - - PRESS OF - BRAUNWORTH & CO. - BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS - BROOKLYN. N. Y. - - - - - *HE COMES UP SMILING* - - - - - *CONTENTS* - -CHAPTER - -I The Beauty Contest -II A Close Shave -III Enter Mr. Batchelor -IV And When I Dine -V A Plan and a Telegram -VI What Is Heaven Like -VII Watermelon Yields -VIII Gratitude Is a Flower -IX On the Road -X The Deserted House -XI A Night's Lodging -XII The Key to the Situation -XIII Only to be Lost -XIV Billy, Billy Everywhere -XV Love in Idleness -XVI A Thief in the Night -XVII Alphonse Rides Away -XVIII Oh, For a Horse -XIX A Broker Prince -XX The Seven O'Clock Express -XXI Rich and Poor Alike -XXII The Truth At Last -XXIII Back to the Road -XXIV The Poet or the Poodle -XXV As He Said He Would - - - - - *HE COMES UP SMILING* - - - - *CHAPTER I* - - *THE BEAUTY CONTEST* - - -"You have a phiz on yer," said the Watermelon with rare candor, "that -would make a mangy pup unhappy." - -"I suppose you think yer Venus," sneered James, a remark that he -flattered himself was rather "classy." - -The Watermelon sighed as one would over the ignorance of a child. "No," -said he, "hardly." - -"Don't let that bloomin' modesty of yers keep yer from tellin' the -truth," adjured James. - -The Watermelon waved the possibility aside with airy grace. "With all -due modesty, James," said he, "I can't claim to be a woman." - -"Not with that hay on yer mug," agreed Mike, casting a sleepy eye upward -from where he lay in lazy content in the long, sweet grasses under the -butternut tree. - -"When I was a kid, I took a prize in a beauty show," announced James, -with pardonable pride. - -"Swiped it?" asked the Watermelon. - -"Dog show?" inquired Mike drowsily, listening to the pleasing drone of a -bee in a near-by clump of daisies. - -James sat up and ran his fingers with musing regret through the coarse -stubble on cheeks and chin. "I was three, I remember, a cute little -cuss. My hair was yellow and ma curled it--you know how--all fuzzy--and -I had a little white dress on. It was a county fair. I got the first -prize for the best lookin' kid and was mugged for the papers. If I was -shaved now and had on some glad rags, I'd be a lady killer, all right, -all right." - -"'Longside of me," said the Watermelon, "you'd look like a blear-eyed -son of a toad." - -"You! Why, you'd make a balky horse run, you would." - -"When me hair's cut, I'm a bloomin' Adonis, not Venus;" and the -Watermelon drew languidly at an old brown pipe, warm and comfortable in -the pleasant shade, where soft breezes wandered fitfully by, laden with -the odors of the fields in June. - -James was skeptical. "Did y' ever take a prize in a beauty show?" he -demanded, still musing upon those bygone honors. - -"No," admitted the Watermelon. "My old man was a parson, and parsons' -kids never have any chance. Besides, I wouldn't care to. Too much like -the finest bull in a county fair, or the best laying hen." - -"Huh," sneered James. "My folks was of the bon-ton." - -"The bon-tons never broke any records in the beauty line," replied the -Watermelon. "And the bon-tonnier they are, the uglier." - -"Beauty," said James with charming naiveté, "runs in my family." - -"It went so fast in the beginning then, yer family never had a chance to -catch up," returned the Watermelon. "We'll have a beauty show, just us -two." - -Inspired by the thought, he sat up to explain, and Mike opened his eyes -long enough to look each over with slow scornful derision and a mocking -grunt. - -James fondled the short stiff hair on his cheeks and chin and waited for -developments. - -The Watermelon went on. "We will meet this afternoon, here, see? -Shaved and with decent duds on. And Mike can pick the winner." - -"Mike! He can't tell a sick cat from a well one." - -"That's all right. He knows enough to tell the best lookin' one between -you and me. A _blind_ mug could do that." - -"But--" - -"We haven't any one else, you mutt. We can't have too much publicity in -this show. I dislike publicity any way, at any time, and especially -when I have on clothes, borrowed, as you might say, for the occasion. -If the gang was here, we could take a vote, but seein' that they ain't, -we got to do with what we got." - -"I ain't goin' to get in no trouble wid this here burg," declared Mike. -"I want a quiet Sunday, some place where I can throw me feet for a bite -of grub and not run no fear of the dog's taking one first. See? -Besides, it's a decent, law-abidin' burg, God-fearin' and pious; too -small to be made unhappy. You want to take somethin' yer own size." - -"Aw, who's goin' to hurt the jerkwater town?" demanded the Watermelon -with indignation. - -"The cost of livin' is goin' up so these days, it's gettin' hard even to -batter a handout," groaned Mike, whose idea of true beauty consisted of -a full stomach and a shady place to sleep on a long quiet Sunday -afternoon. "I ain't goin' to get every place soured on me. If the -public gets any more stingy, I'll have to give up de turf for a livin', -that's all. To throw a gag will be harder den hod-carryin'." - -"We ain't goin' to hurt the burg none," said James. - -He rose languidly and stretched. "You be here this afternoon, Mike, -about three, see, or I'll knock yer block off. It's a nice quiet -hangout and far enough from the village to be safe. I'm goin' to get a -shave and borrow some duds from the bloomin' hostelry up yonder to do -honor to de occasion." He knocked the ashes from his pipe and slipped -it into his pocket. "If you don't get the clothes and de shave, -Watermillion, you'll be counted down and out, see?" - -"Sure," agreed the Watermelon. - -He lay at length on the ground beneath the butternut tree and James -paused a moment to run his eye critically over him, from his lean face -with its two-weeks' growth of beard to his ragged clumsy shoes. James -smiled grimly and drew himself up to his full height with just pride. -He was six feet two in shoes that might as well have been stockings for -all they added to his height. His shoulders were broad and muscular, -with the gentle play of great muscles in perfect condition. His neck, -though short, was well shaped and sinewy, not the short thick neck of a -prize-fighter or a bull. His hips were narrow and his limbs long and -straight. Beneath his open shirt, one saw his bronze throat and huge -chest. A splendid specimen of the genus _homo_, for all the rags and -tatters that served as clothes. - -The Watermelon was a bit shorter, with narrower shoulders, but -long-legged, slim, graceful, and under his satiny skin, his muscles slid -and rippled with marvelous symmetry. Where James was strong, slow, -heavy, he was quick, lithe, supple. Dissipation had not left its mark, -and the hard life of the "road" had so far merely made him fit, an -athlete in perfect condition. His features were clean-cut and -symmetrical, with a narrow, humorous, good-natured mouth and eyes soft -and gray and gentle, the eyes of a dreamer and an idler. - -James looked at the slight graceful youth, sprawled in the shade of the -butternut tree, and grinned, doubling his huge arms with slow, luxurious -pleasure in the mere physical action and watching the rhythmic rise and -fall of the great muscles. - -"You might get honorable mention in one of these county fairs for the -best yoke of oxen," admitted the Watermelon from where he lay at ease. - -"There ain't going to be no show," said Mike firmly. "Not if yer have -to swipe the duds. I ain't going--" - -James showed that he was a true member of the bon-ton. He waved the -other to silence with the airy grace of a master dismissing an impudent -servant. "There is goin' to be a contest for the just reward of beauty -and yer goin' to be here, Mike, and be the judge or y' will have that -red-headed block of yours knocked into kindlin' wood." - -Mike was fat and red-headed and dirty. His soul loathed trouble and -longed for quiet with the ardor of an elderly spinster. "No, I ain't," -said he, in a vain struggle for peace. "I ain't goin' to hang around -here until you blokes swipe the rags and come back wid de cops after -yer." - -"There ain't no cops around this place, you mutt," contradicted the -Watermelon with the delicate courtesy of the road. - -"There's a sheriff--" - -"Sheriffs," interrupted James coldly, "ain't never around until the -job's done." - -"Sunday," added the Watermelon, from knowledge gained by past -experience, "is the best time to swipe anything. No one is lookin' for -trouble that day and so they don't find it, see?" - -"Sure," agreed James. "Every one's feelin' warm and good and stuffed, -and when yer feel good yerself, yer won't believe any one is bad. You -know how it is, Mike. When yer feelin' comfortable, yer can't -understand why the devil we ain't comfortable." - -"Well, why the devil ain't yer?" demanded Mike. "I ain't takin' all the -shade er all the earth, am I? Lie down and be quiet. What do yer want -a beauty show for?" - -"Aw, stow it!" snapped the Watermelon. - -"Yes, I'll stow it all right when we're all sent to the jug. I tell yer -I ain't fit to work. The last time I got pinched, I pretty near -croaked. I wasn't made to work." - -"We ain't going to get pinched," said James. "You make more talk over -two suits of clothes--" - -"It ain't the clothes. It's the damn fool notion of swipin' 'em and -then comin' right back here, and not makin' no get-away--" - -"This hang-out is more than four miles from the burg, you galoot," -sneered the Watermelon. "No one would think of coppin' us here. They'll -go to the next town, or else watch the railroads--" - -"But they might--" - -"Might what? Might be bloomin' fools like you." - -"Where are you goin' to be shaved?" - -"In a barber shop," said James mildly. "You probably favor a lawn-mower, -but personally I prefer a barber." - -"Yes," wailed Mike, "go to a barber shop and let every guy in town get -his lamps on yer--" - -"You're gettin' old, Mike, me boy, and losin' yer nerve," said James. -He stretched and yawned. "Well, I'm off before church time or the -barbers will be closed. Remember, Mike, this afternoon, between four -and five." - -He pulled his clothes into place, adjusted his hat at the most becoming -angle and started up the narrow woodland path, whistling gaily through -his teeth. As he disappeared among the trees, the far-off sound of -church bells stole to them on the quiet of the Sabbath morning. - - - - - *CHAPTER II* - - *A CLOSE SHAVE* - - -The Watermelon climbed the stone wall and paused a moment to view his -surroundings. The road wound up the hill from the village nestling at -its foot and dipped again out of sight farther on. On all sides were -the hills, falling rocky pasture lands, rising to orchards or woods, and -now and then a farmhouse. It was summer, glad, mad, riotous summer. -The sky was a deep, deep blue, with here and there a drifting, -snow-white cloud. The fields were gay with buttercups and daisies, and -wild roses nodded shyly at him from the briers along the roadside. In -the leafy recesses of the trees, the birds twitted and sang. A little -gray squirrel peered at him from the limb close by and then scampered -off with a whisk of its bushy tail. A brook laughed and tumbled under a -slender bridge across the road. - -The Watermelon was a vagabond in every fiber of his long graceful self. -The open places, the sweep of the wind, the call of the birds, the rise -and fall of the hills, hiding the fascinating "beyond," found -unconscious harmony with his nature. As a captive animal, given a -chance for freedom, makes for the nearest timber; as a cat, in a strange -neighborhood, makes for the old, familiar attic, so the Watermelon -sought the country, the peace and freedom and space where a man can be a -man and not a manikin. - -He paused a moment now, in perfect contentment with the world and -himself, while up the valley, over the hills, through the sun-warmed -air, borne on the breath of the new-mown fields came the sound of -distant church bells, softly, musically, soothingly. Slipping from the -wall, he set out for the village below in the valley, where the road -wound steeply down. - -The village boasted but one barber shop, a quiet, little, dusty-white, -one-room affair, leaning in timid humility against the protecting wall -of the only other public building in town, drygoods, grocery and butcher -shop in one. The church bells had stopped for some time when the -Watermelon turned into the wide empty street, and strolled carelessly up -to the faded red, white and blue pole of Wilton's Tonsorial Parlor. In -its Sunday calm the whole village seemed deserted. A few of the bolder -spirits who had outgrown apron strings and not yet been snared in any -one's bonnet strings, had remained away from church and foregathered in -the seclusion of the barber shop. The Watermelon regarded them a moment -through the window as he felt carelessly in his pockets for the coins -that were never there. It was a quiet crowd, well brushed hair, nicely -polished boots and freshly shaved faces. They were reading the sporting -news of Saturday's papers and ogling any girl, fairly young and not -notoriously homely, who chanced to pass. The barber was cleaning up -after his last customer and talking apparently as much to himself as to -any one. Convinced of what he knew was so, that he had no money, the -Watermelon pushed open the door and entered. - -"Hello," said he. - -"Hello," said the barber. - -All the papers were lowered and all conversation stopped as each man -turned and scanned the new-comer with an interest the Watermelon -modestly felt was caused by some event other than his own entry. He -surmised that James had probably been there before him, and the next -words of the barber confirmed his surmise. - -That dapper little man scanned him coldly, from the rakish tip of his -shabby hat to the nondescript covering on his feet which from force of -habit he called shoes, and spoke with darkly veiled sarcasm: - -"I suppose you are a guest from the hotel up to the lake?" - -The Watermelon grinned. He recognized James' favorite role. "No," said -he cheerfully, "I'm John D., and me car is waiting without." - -"A guest up to the hotel," repeated the barber, upon whom James had -evidently made a powerful impression. "Just back from a two weeks' -camping and fishing trip--" - -"No," said the Watermelon. "I don't like fishing, baiting the hook is -such darned hard work." - -"Just back," went on the barber, still quoting, his soul yet rankling -with the deceit of man. "Look like a tramp, probably--" - -"Am one," grinned the Watermelon. - -"And you thought you would get a shave as you passed through the -village, wouldn't dare let your wife see you--" - -"Say," interrupted the Watermelon wearily, "what are you giving us? Did -any one bunko you out of a shave with that lingo?" - -"Yes," snapped the barber. "About an hour ago a feller blew in here and -said all that. He talked well and I shaved him. He said he had sent -his camping truck on to the hotel by his team; he had stopped off to get -a shave. I shaved him and then he found he hadn't any money in his old -clothes--but he would send it right down--oh, yes--the moment he got to -the hotel. It ain't come and Harry, there, says there ain't no one up -to the hotel like that. Harry's the porter." - -"Sure," said Harry importantly. "I passed the feller as I was coming -down and there ain't any one like him to the hotel." - -The Watermelon laughed heartily. "A hobo, eh? Bunkoed you for fair. -You fellers oughtn't to be so dog-goned easy. Get wise, get wise!" - -"We are wise now," said the barber ruefully, and added sternly, "If you -want a shave, you've got to show your money first." - -"Sure, I want a shave," said the Watermelon, and carelessly rattled a -few old keys he carried in his pocket. They jingled with the clink of -loose coins and were pleasing to the ear if not so much to the touch. -"I came here for a shave, but I pay for what I want, see? Say, I'll bet -that feller busted your cash register," and he nodded pleasantly toward -the new shiny receiver of customs on the shelf near the looking-glass. - -The remark brought an agreeable thrill of excited expectation to all -save the barber. He shook his head with boundless faith in his new -possession. "I bought that just last week and the drummer said it was -practically thief proof." - -"Do you want to bet?" asked the Watermelon. "All there is in the -register, huh? Even money," and he jingled the keys in his pocket. - -"Naw," said the barber. "I know he couldn't have robbed it. It's -impossible, even if the thing could be robbed, which it can't be. I was -right here all the time." - -"It's near the lookin'-glass," said the Watermelon. "He went close to -the counter to see himself, didn't he?" - -The Watermelon knew vanity as James' one weakness and realized with what -pleasure he himself would stand before the mirror and gaze fondly at his -own charms, uncontaminated by a shaggy, two-weeks' growth of beard. - -"Yes," admitted the barber slowly. "He did look at himself for a long -time." - -"And some of the time your back was turned," added the Watermelon. "You -were probably cleaning up or looking for a whisk." - -"Yes," admitted the barber again, still more reluctantly. "But nobody -can bust into one of them cash registers, not without a noise that would -be heard across the room." - -"I'll bet he did," said the Watermelon. "Do you take me?" - -"But they can't be busted," reiterated the barber. - -"Then why the devil don't you bet?" demanded the Watermelon. "You are -bettin' on a sure thing." - -"Yes, go on. Don't be scared," encouraged Wilton's gay youth in joyful -chorus. - -The barber started for his precious register, but the Watermelon reached -it first and laid his hand on it. - -"Do you take me?" he asked. "You have to say that before you can count -the change or the bet's--Say, is that the galoot?" he nodded suddenly -toward the window and all turned quickly, instinctively, to look up the -village street. The Watermelon hastily thrust a thin comb between the -bell and the gong so it would not ring as he gently pressed the -twenty-five cent key, registering another quarter, then he joined the -others, pushing and struggling to see the man who did not pass, and -gazed languidly over their heads. - -"There ain't no one there," exclaimed the barber. - -"He's passed out of sight," said the Watermelon, making a feeble attempt -to see up the street. "He was almost by as I saw him." - -"Do you take me?" he asked, as they returned to the counter and the -subject of the cash register. His hands were in his pockets and -occasionally he jingled the keys. - -"Aw, go on," urged Harry, who was a sport. "What are you afraid of?" - -"He couldn't have picked it," insisted the barber, whose faith in his -register was really sublime. - -"Sure he could. They are easy to a guy who knows the ropes," declared -the Watermelon. "The drummer was handing you a lot of hot air when he -said they can't be picked. You don't want to be so easy." - -The slur on his mental capacity was too much for the barber. His vanity -rose in defense of his register where his faith had failed. "I have some -brains," he snorted. "I know the thing is perfectly safe. Yes, I take -you." - -He started to open the register, but the Watermelon objected. "Here," -he cried, "let Harry do it. I'm not wanting to be bunkoed out of me -hard-earned lucre." And he lovingly rattled the keys in his pockets. - -Harry and the others stepped forward. - -"How much has been registered?" asked the Watermelon. - -Harry drew forth the strip of paper and after a few moments of mental -agony, confused by the different results each obtained as all peered -eagerly over his shoulder, he finally arrived at the correct answer, -three dollars and sixty cents. It was Sunday and shaving day for the -male quarter of the population. - -"Three, sixty," announced Harry in some trepidation, lest he be flatly -and promptly corrected. - -The barber reached for the slip and added it on his own account. -"Three, sixty," he agreed, and sighed. - -"Count the cash," ordered the Watermelon, and Harry counted, slowly, -carefully, laboriously, and the rest counted with him, more or less -audibly. - -When the last coin had been counted, there was a moment of puzzled -silence. The Watermelon broke it. - -"Three, thirty-five," said he. "What did I tell you?" - -"Here," snapped the barber, "let me count it." - -He pushed Harry aside and again all counted as the barber passed the -coins. Quarters, dimes, nickels and pennies, the last one was -lingeringly laid on the pile and the sum was lacking a quarter to make -it complete according to the registered slip. - -"Three dollars and thirty-five cents," said the Watermelon again, like -the voice of doom. - -"Well, I vum!" exclaimed Harry. - -"How'd he do it?" asked the grocer's son, with an eye out for possibly -similar emergencies nearer home. - -The Watermelon shrugged. "I don't know," said he. "Can't do it myself, -but the fellers in the cities have gotten so they can open 'em the -minute the clerk turns his back. They can do it without any noise, too, -and so quick you can't catch 'em. I'll be hanged if I know how they do -it." - -Again the barber counted the change, again he totaled the numbers on the -registered slip. They would not agree. That painful lack of a quarter -could not be bridged. - -"He said it was automatic bookkeeping," moaned the barber, glaring at -the slip that would register nothing less than three dollars and sixty -cents. - -"The bookkeeping's all right," said the Watermelon, "it's the money that -ain't." - -He gathered up the coins, slowly, lovingly, and the barber turned away -from the painful sight. - -"Do you want a shave?" he asked crossly. - -The Watermelon sank gracefully into the chair. "It's hard luck," said -he sympathetically, "but you oughtn't to be so easy. Get wise, get -wise." - - - - - *CHAPTER III* - - *ENTER MR. BATCHELOR* - - -With hair nicely cut, face once more as smooth as a boy's, and three -dollars and ten cents in his pocket, the Watermelon gazed fondly at -himself in the glass and felt sorry for James. He gently patted his -hair, wet, shiny and smelling of bay rum, arranged his hat with great -nicety at just the graceful angle he preferred as doing the most justice -to his charms, and sallied forth to look for a suit of clothes. He had -scanned critically those he had encountered in the barber shop with an -eye to future possession, but none of them, at least what he had been -able to see of them, the coat having generally been conspicuous by its -absence, had pleased him. They had the uncompromising cut of the -country and the Watermelon felt that the attractions that gazed back at -him from the mirror were worthy of something better. He had a vague -fancy for light gray with a pearl-colored waistcoat and purple socks--a -suit possessing the gentle folds and undulations of the city, not the -scant, though sturdy, outlines of the country. The hotel seemed the -best place to look for what he wanted, so he turned in that direction. - -The hotel was several miles from the village. Its gables and chimneys -could be seen rising in majestic aloofness from the woods on a distant -hillside. The Watermelon paused where the road dipped down again into -the valley and ran his eye over the intervening landscape. By the road, -it would be at least five miles; through the woods, the distance -dwindled to about three. The Watermelon took to the woods. They became -thicker at every step, the quiet and shade deeper and deeper. A bird's -call echoed clear and sweet as though among the pillars of some huge -grotto. A brook laughed between its mossy banks, tumbling into foamy -little waterfalls over every boulder that got in its path. The -Watermelon determined to follow the brook, sure that in the end it would -lead him to the hotel. City people had a failing for brooks and no -hotel management would miss the chance of having one gurgling by, close -at hand. The brook grew wider and wider, and through a break in the -trees the Watermelon saw a lake, disappearing in the leafy distance. He -heard a splash and saw the shiny white body of a man rise for one joyful -moment from the green depths ahead and then dive from sight with another -cool splash. - -The Watermelon decided from habit to get a better view of the lonely -swimmer before he let his own presence become known. He slipped into -the bushes and slowly wriggled his way to the little glade. The lake -was bigger than at first appeared. It turned and twisted through the -woods and was finally lost from view around a small promontory. The -trees grew nearly to the water's edge, a dense protecting wall to one -who wished to sport in nature's solitude, garbed in nature's simple -clothing. The lake was too far from the hotel to have been annexed as -one of the attractions of that hostelry. All this the Watermelon -noticed at a glance. He also noticed that the man swimming in the cool -brown depths, with long easy strokes, was alone and a stranger. The -Watermelon looked for the clothes and found them on a log, practically -at his feet. - -In everything but color, they fulfilled his dream of what raiment should -be like. Instead of the pale gray he rather favored, the suit was -brown, a light brown, with a tiny green stripe, barely visible, -intertwined with a faint suggestion of red, forming a harmonious whole -that was vastly pleasing to the Watermelon's æsthetic senses. In the -matter of socks, he realized that the stranger had not taken the best -advantage of his opportunity. Instead of being red or green to lend -character to the delicate suggestion of those colors found in the suit, -they were a soft dun brown. There was a tie of the same shade and a -silk negligée shirt of white with pale green stripes. The owner was -clearly a young man of rare taste, unhampered by a vexatious limitation -of his pocket-book. - -He could be seen swimming slowly and luxuriously in the little lake, -perfectly contented, unconscious that some one besides the woodpeckers -and the squirrels was watching him. The swimmer's strokes had quickened -and the Watermelon perceived that he was swimming straight up the lake -with the probable intention of rounding the promontory and exploring the -farther lake. When he disappeared, the Watermelon quickly, carefully, -gathered up the clothes and likewise disappeared. - -The swimmer was a big man and the clothes as good a fit as one could -look for under the circumstances. They set off the Watermelon's long, -lean figure to perfection, and the hat, a soft and expensive panama, -lent added distinction. The Watermelon removed the three dollars and -ten cents and the keys from his own pockets, and making a bundle of his -cast-off dollies, stuffed them out of sight in a hollow log, where later -he could return and find them. It was just as well to leave the stranger -a practical captive in nature's depths until the beauty show was pulled -off. After that event, he would return, and if the stranger was -amenable to reason, he could have his good clothes back, but if he acted -put out at all, for punishment he would have to accept the Watermelon's -glorious attire. - -Clean-shaven, well-clothed, there was no longer any need for him to go -to the hotel, unless he wished to dine there. If the devotee of nature, -back in the swimming pool, was a stranger in these parts and not a guest -at the hotel, the Watermelon felt that he could do this with pleasure -and safety. It was after twelve, and his ever-present desire to eat was -becoming too pronounced to be comfortable. It would be a fitting climax -to a highly delightful morning to have dinner, surrounded by gentle folk -again, for the Watermelon came of a gentle family. He had no fear, for -some time at least, of the owner of the borrowed clothes making himself -unnecessarily conspicuous. But, on the other hand, if he were a guest at -the hotel, the clothes would probably be recognized and murder be the -simplest solution of their change of owners. Still, reasoned the -Watermelon, with a shrewd guess at the truth, if he were a guest, it was -hardly likely that he would be swimming alone in the isolated pond, in -the bathing suit designed by nature. The clothes hardly indicated a -young man of a serious turn of mind, who would seek the wooded solitudes -in preference to the vivacious society of his kind to be found in a big -hotel. - -The wood ended abruptly at a stone wall. There was a road beyond the -wall, and beyond the road, another stone wall and more woods. It was a -narrow woodland road, a short cut to the hotel. It wound its way out of -sight, up a hill, through the pines. It was grass-grown and shady and -the trees met overhead. Sweetbrier and wild roses grew along the stone -walls, while gay little flowers and delicate ferns ventured out into the -road itself, and with every passing breeze nodded merrily from the ruts -of last winter's wood hauling. By the side of the road, like a glaring -anachronism, a variety theater in Paradise, a vacuum cleaner among the -ferns and daisies, stood a huge red touring car with shining brass work -and raised top. No one was anywhere in sight and the Watermelon climbed -into the tonneau and leaned comfortably back in the roomy depths. - -"Home, Henry," said he languidly to an imaginary chauffeur. - -A honk, honk behind him answered. He leaned from the car and saw -another turn into the road and come toward him. It was a touring car, -big and blue. An elderly gentleman, fat, serious, important, was at the -wheel. Beside him sat a lady, and a chauffeur languished in the tonneau. - -"Hello, Thomas," called the old gentleman with the affability of a -performing elephant, addressing the Watermelon by the name of his car, -as is the custom of the road. - -"Hello, William," answered the Watermelon, wondering why they called him -Thomas. - -The old gentleman flushed angrily and the lady laughed, a delightful -laugh of girlish amusement. The Watermelon smiled. - -"We are a Packard," explained the old gentleman stiffly. - -"Are you?" said the Watermelon, wholly unimpressed by the information. -"Well, I ain't a Thomas." - -"I called you by the name of your car," said the old gentleman. "I -surmise that you have not had one long." - -"I don't feel as if I owned it now," the Watermelon admitted. - -The old gentleman smiled genially. Anything was pardonable but -flippancy in response to his own utterances, none of which was ever -lacking in weight or importance. The young man, it seemed, was only -ignorant. - -"Are you in trouble?" he asked with a gleam of anticipated pleasure in -his eyes. To tinker with a machine and accomplish nothing but a crying -need for an immediate bath was his dearest recreation. - -"No," said the Watermelon, thinking of the three, ten, in the pocket of -the new clothes and of the lonely swimmer. "I ain't--yet." - -The old gentleman was vaguely disappointed. "Can you run your machine?" -he asked, hopeful of a reply in the negative. - -"No," said the Watermelon. - -"Won't go, eh?" The old gentleman turned off the power in his car and -stepped forth, agilely, joyfully, prepared to do irreparable damage to -the stranger's car. He drew off his gloves and slipped them into his -pocket, then for a moment he hesitated. - -"Where is your chauffeur?" - -"I haven't one," said the Watermelon. - -The old gentleman disapproved. "Until you know more about your machine, -you should have one," said he oratorically. "I am practically an -expert, and yet I always take mine with me." - -He waved aside any comment on his own meritorious conduct and foresight -and turned to the machine. "There is probably something the matter with -the carburetor," said he, and raised the hood. - -"Probably," admitted the Watermelon, alighting and peering into the -engine beside the old gentleman. - -"Father," suggested the lady gently, "maybe you had better let -Alphonse--" - -Alphonse, sure of the reply, made no move to alight and assist. - -The old gentleman, with head nearly out of sight, peering here and -there, tapping this and sounding that, replied with evident annoyance. -"Certainly not, Henrietta. I am perfectly capable--" - -His words trailed off into vague mutterings. - -The Watermelon glanced at the lady, girl or woman, he was not sure -which. Between thirty and thirty-five, the unconquerable youth of the -modern age radiated from every fold of her dainty frock, from the big -hat and graceful veil. Her hair was soft and brown and thick, her mouth -was rather large, thin-lipped and humorous, and yet pathetic, the mouth -of one who laughs through tears, seeing the piteous, so closely -intermingled with the amusing. Her eyes were brown, clever, with -delicate brows and a high smooth forehead. The Watermelon decided that -she was not pretty, but distinctly classy. She was watching him with -amused approval, oddly mingled with wistfulness, for the Watermelon was -young and tall and graceful, good-looking and boyish. His man's mouth -and square chin were overtopped by his laughing woman's eyes, soft and -gentle and dreaming, a face that fascinated men as well as women. And -he was young and she was--thirty-five. He smiled at the friendliness he -saw in her eyes and turned to the old gentleman, who was now thoroughly -absorbed. - -"I need a monkey-wrench," said he. "I thought at first that there was -something the matter with the carburetor, but think now that it must be -in the crank shaft assembly." - -"Oh, yes," agreed the Watermelon vaguely, and got the wrench from the -tool-box as directed. - -"I--I think that maybe you had better let us tow you to some garage," -said the lady timorously, her voice barely audible above the old -gentleman's noisy administrations. - -"Search me," returned the Watermelon, standing by to lend assistance -with every tool from the box in his arms or near by where he could reach -it instantly at an imperious command. - -"Automobiles," said the lady, "are like the modern schoolmarms, always -breaking down." - -"Like hoboes," suggested the Watermelon, "always broke." - -The old gentleman straightened up. "There is something the matter with -the gasolene inlet valve," he announced firmly. - -"The whole car must be rotten," surmised the Watermelon, catching the -oil-can as it was about to slip from his already over-burdened hands. - -"No, no," returned the old gentleman reassuringly, as he buttoned his -long linen cluster securely. "The crank shaft seems to be all right, -but the--" - -He knelt down, still talking, and the Watermelon had a horrible fear for -a moment that his would-be benefactor was about to offer up prayers for -the safety of the car. He reached out his hand to stay proceedings, -when the old gentleman spoke: - -"I must get under the car." - -"Maybe it's all right," suggested the Watermelon, who did not like the -idea of being forced to go after him with the tools. - -"Father," the lady's voice was gentle, but firm, and the old gentleman -paused. "Let Alphonse go. You know we are to dine with the Bartletts. -Alphonse, please find out what the trouble is." - -Alphonse alighted promptly. He was a thin, dapper little man with a -blasé superiority that was impressive as betokening a profound knowledge -of the idiosyncrasies of motor-cars. He plainly had no faith in the old -gentleman's diagnosis. He approached the car and announced the trouble -practically at once. - -"There is no gasolene." - -The old gentleman was not in the least perturbed over his own slight -error in judgment. "A frequent, very frequent oversight," said he, -rising. "We will tow you to the hotel, my dear sir. You can get the -gasolene there." - -"Never mind," said the Watermelon. "I can hoof it." - -"Hoof it!" The old gentleman was pained and hurt. "Hoof it, when I -have my car right here! No, indeed. Alphonse, get the rope." - -The Watermelon protested. "Aw, really, you know--" - -"Weren't you going to the hotel?" - -"I was thinking some of it. But the car--" - -"Alphonse, get the rope. It will be a pleasure. We have always got to -lend assistance to a broken car. We may be in the same fix ourselves -some day." - -Alphonse brought the rope and the Watermelon watched them adjust it. -When the last knot was tied to the old gentleman's liking, he turned to -the Watermelon and presented him with his card. The Watermelon took it -and read the name, "Brig.-General Charles Montrose Grossman, U.S.A., -Retired." Then, not to be outdone, he reached in the still unexplored -pockets of his new clothes with confident ease, and finding a -pocket-book drew it forth, opened it on the mere chance that there would -be a card within, found one and presented it to the general with lofty -unconcern, trusting that the general and the owner of the clothes were -not acquainted. - -"William Hargrave Batchelor," read the general aloud, while his round -fat face beamed with pleasure. "I have heard about you, sir, and am -glad to make your acquaintance." - -The Watermelon grasped the extended hand and wrung it with fervor. "The -pleasure is all mine," said he with airy grace and sublime -self-assurance. - -"Let me present you to my daughter. Henrietta, this is young Mr. -Batchelor of New York. You have read about him, my dear, in the papers. -He broke the cotton ring on Wall Street last week. You may remember. -Miss Grossman, Mr. Batchelor." - -The girl put out her hand and the Watermelon shook it. Her hand was -slender and white, soft as velvet and well cared for. The Watermelon's -was big and brown and coarse, and entirely neglected as to the nails. -Henrietta noticed it with fastidious amusement. William Hargrave -Batchelor was not in her estimation, formed from the little she had read -about him in the papers, a gentleman. He had started life as a newsboy -on the streets of New York, and doubtless had not had his suddenly -acquired wealth long enough to be familiar with the small niceties of -life. Besides, he was so young and so good-looking, one could forgive -him a great deal more than dirty nails. - -"You hardly look as old as I imagined you to be from the papers," -declared the general, regarding a bit enviously the youth who had made -millions in a few short weeks by a sensational stroke of financial -genius. - -"I have a young mug," explained the Watermelon modestly. - -The general looked a bit startled. Henrietta laughed. She had always -wanted to meet a man in the making. - -"I hope that if you have no other engagement, you will dine with us," -said she. - -"Certainly," cried the general. "Have you a previous appointment?" - -"With myself," said the Watermelon. "To dine." - -"You will dine with us," declared the general, and that settled it. -"Get into my car. Alphonse will steer yours." - -The Watermelon made one last protest against highway robbery in broad -daylight, but the general waved him to silence and the Watermelon -decided that if they wished to make off with the stranger's car it was -no fault of his. He had done his best to stop it. He climbed into the -general's car, the general cranked up and they were off, Alphonse and -the Thomas car trailing along behind. - - - - - *CHAPTER IV* - - *AND WHEN I DINE* - - -Henrietta turned sidewise that she might the better converse with her -guest. - -"I noticed by the papers that you always make it a point to spend -Sundays in the country somewhere near New York, so that you can return -quickly in your car. I suppose that you really need the rest and quiet -for your week's work." - -"I never work when I can rest," said the Watermelon truthfully. - -"That's right, that's right," agreed the general, torn between a desire -to talk to the phenomenal young financier, who in one night had set New -York all agog, and to avoid a smash-up with the stone walls on either -side of the road. "Men are altogether too eager to make money." - -"Yes," said Henrietta. "Everything nowadays is money, money, money." -Then remembering who her guest was, she added quickly, "I think it is -splendid in your getting away from it all and spending one day a week in -the country, close to nature. They say that stock-brokers are never -happy away from the Street." - -"But I am not a stock-broker," explained the Watermelon, with his -candid, boyish smile. "I'm a lamb." - -Henrietta laughed. "But not fleeced," said she gaily. - -"Not yet," admitted the Watermelon, wondering if William Hargrave -Batchelor was still enjoying his swim. - -"What you want to do, now that you have made your 'pile,'" advised the -general, as the machine swerved dangerously near a tree, "is to leave -the Street at once. Invest your money in U.S. government bonds and buy -a place in the country." - -"You don't like the country yourself, father, except in the summer," -objected Henrietta. - -"That's all right, my dear, but when a man has three millions invested -in government bonds, he does not have to spend all of his life in the -country. Your last deal brought you three millions, I believe the -papers said?" Never before had the general discussed a friend's private -affairs with such sylvan frankness and interest, with such complete -unconsciousness of his own rudeness, but the youth who had risen one -night from the obscurity of New York's multitude to a position of -importance in the greatest money market in the world appeared to the -general in the light of a public character, and as he would have -discussed aviation with the Wright brothers, the North Pole with Peary, -so now he discussed money with the Watermelon. - -"Three, ten," chuckled the Watermelon. - -"Ah, yes," sighed the general. Money is power and every man wants -power. The general was old, without the time, training or opportunity -to make money, while this long-legged youth with the ridiculous woman's -eyes, sat on the back seat and babbled lightly of millions as the -general could hardly do of thousands. - -"Ah, yes, three millions. Have you ever lived in the country?" - -"Oh, off and on," said the Watermelon. - -"I suppose you are fond of it or you wouldn't come up here every -Sunday," went on the general, missing the wall on the right by a -fraction of an inch. "Do you care for fishing?" - -"If the bites ain't too plentiful." - -Henrietta laughed. "You can't do it, Mr. Batchelor," said she. - -"Do what?" asked the Watermelon, leaning forward. The Watermelon never -lacked self-assurance under any circumstances, and before a pretty girl -it merely grew in adverse ratio to the girl's years and in direct ratio -to her good looks. Henrietta was not pretty, but she had charm and -grace and good breeding, and a combination of the three sometimes equals -prettiness. - -"Make us believe that you are as lazy as you are trying to." - -"If I can't do it, I won't try," laughed the Watermelon. "But you can't -do it, either." - -"Do what?" - -"Make me believe that you are the general's daughter," returned the -Watermelon, letting his voice fall, gently and softly. The general was -busy at that moment preventing the car from climbing a tree and trying -to decide between Maine and Virginia as the best place for the -Watermelon to invest in his country estate. Personally, he preferred -Maine in summer and Virginia in winter. Was it therefore preferable to -roast in summer and be comfortable in winter, or to freeze in winter and -enjoy yourself in summer? - -"Don't I look like him?" asked Henrietta, wishing that she had not made -the conversation quite so personal thus early in their acquaintance. - -"You look like him," admitted the Watermelon, "but--" - -Henrietta laughed faintly. "You wouldn't take me for his sister, would -you?" she questioned, fearing he would say yes. William Hargrave -Batchelor had spent his youth peddling papers and blacking boots. A -frank disregard for all social graces and hypocrisies was doubtless one -of his most pronounced characteristics. The little social amenities -would hardly be required in the strenuous existence of newsboy and -boot-black. - -"For his granddaughter," said the Watermelon. - -"Of course," said the general, aloud, "Maine has fine shooting in -winter." - -"None of Maine for mine," declared the Watermelon conclusively. "Maine -is a prohibition state." - -The general frowned. "You don't drink, I hope, young man?" - -"Drink," said the Watermelon, making Henrietta think unreasonably of a -minister, "Drink causes a psychological condition which each man should -experience to obtain a clear insight into the normal condition of the -mind." He paused impressively and Henrietta felt almost compelled to -say "Amen," for what reason she did not know. "But," added the youth in -the solemn tones of the benediction, "when I get--lit, I like to do it -on whisky and not poison." - -The general who had intended a scathing reply, and firm but gentle -counsel to lead back to the narrow path this promising young man -hovering on the brink of ruin, with all his glorious possibilities, -found himself agreeing. - -The car had reached the top of the steep hill, and suddenly left the -trees, the narrow, woodland road, with the columbine and wild roses -nodding at them from the underbrush, and swept out on to a wide, -well-kept driveway, with smooth rolling lawns on each side and a -majestic white building as a crowning glory on the top of the hill. - -Grandview did not belie its name. High on the topmost ridge, it looked -over valley and woods and streams, beyond to farther hills, peak after -peak, range after range, fading into a blue shadow against the sky. It -was a big, square, garish building, gaunt and unlovely among its lovely -surroundings. There were two porches, one up-stairs and one below. They -were filled with chairs and gay, brightly fringed hammocks. Behind the -hotel was a stable and garage, white and gaunt and square like the main -building. - -It was the dinner hour and in the country there is never any need to -urge one to the table. So, save for a man and a girl, waiting on the -steps, there was no one in sight. - -"There are the Bartletts now," cried Henrietta, as the train of cars -approached the porch. "Poor dears, we have kept them waiting." - -"I wonder," said the Watermelon, "why a guy always gets so hungry on -Sunday." - -"Nothing else to do," suggested Henrietta, "but eat." - -The car stopped and she started to alight but the Watermelon was before, -offering his hand with a grace bred of absolute unconsciousness of self. - -"Alphonse can take your car to the garage and fill it with gasolene," -said the general. He always felt that after he had done his best to put -a car out of order for good, he practically owned the car and its owner. - -"Aw, don't bother," protested the Watermelon. - -"Tush, tush, man, it is no bother," and the general turned to the coldly -respectful Alphonse. - -Henrietta had started toward the steps and the Watermelon turned to -follow her, when he saw _her_ standing on the top step, looking straight -at him across Henrietta's shoulder. His first impulse was to stand and -stare, his second, to turn and run back to Mike and James and his old -clothes, his third, which he followed blindly, was to stumble forward, -hat in hand, not from any respect for woman in the abstract, but just -for her, her tiny feet, her small white teeth, her dimple. She would -not come up to his shoulder by at least six inches, she was very -slender, and in her high-waisted, yellow frock, she seemed a mere wisp -of a girl. Her hair and eyes were brown, her cheeks flushed like the -petals of an apple blossom. She had a crooked little smile that brought -a single dimple in one soft cheek. Her hat was a big, flapping affair, -covered with buttercups and daisies. - -The Watermelon, gazing at her, forgot everything, Henrietta, dinner, the -general. He stared and she stared back. The brown suit with the pale -green stripe and the faint suggestion of red, lent an undeniable -improvement to the broad shoulders and long limbs of the graceful -Watermelon. The admirable shave and hair-cut the village barber had -given him in exchange for his own quarter, revealed the square-cut chin -and the good-natured, careless mouth of the born ne'er-do-well. Under -the brim of the soft expensive panama, were his woman's eyes, now tragic -and unhappy, for who was he but a tramp, a frequenter of the highways -and back streets, an associate of James and Mike? - -"Billy," said Henrietta, "we have had an adventure and picked up another -guest. Miss Bartlett, Mr. Batchelor." - -"Were you part of the adventure?" asked Billy, holding out her hand. - -"Yes," said the Watermelon, incapable of further speech. - -Henrietta presented him to Mr. Bartlett, a stout, red-faced gentleman of -middle age. Wealth, success, self-complacency radiated from him like the -rays of the sun. He grasped the hard brown hand of the Watermelon and -looked the young man up and down, noticing the pin in his tie, the -panama and the silk socks without seeming fairly to notice the man. - -"William Hargrave Batchelor?" he murmured questioningly. - -"The same," answered the general heartily, feeling that he had done -something praiseworthy in capturing the young man. He drew off his -gloves and beamed at the Watermelon. - -"He is a young one to beat us, Bartlett. We ought to be Oslerized." - -Bartlett's eyes gleamed and he shook the Watermelon's hand with renewed -pleasure. "Youth," said he oratorically, "is hard to beat, General, but -we aren't deaduns yet. I have had an occasional try at the Street, -myself, Mr. Batchelor. You may have heard of me." - -"Oh, yes," said the Watermelon absent-mindedly, thinking of the girl -with the single dimple and the turned-up nose. - -"Father took me, once," said Billy. "It was terrible. Are you a -broker, Mr. Batchelor?" - -"Haven't you read yesterday's papers, Billy?" exclaimed Henrietta. - -"I never read the papers," admitted Billy, with a charming smile. "Just -the front page head-lines, sometimes." - -"He was there," laughed the general. "In inch-high print. He broke the -cotton ring, my dear." The general's tone was full of reflected glory -as the host of the great man. - -"Oh," cried Billy, "that's where father lost so much. He told me this -morning, just as we left the house--" - -Bartlett glanced sharply at the Watermelon and interrupted Billy with a -laugh. "You get everything wrong, my dear," said he, tweaking her ear. -"I said a good deal of money had been lost--" - -"But, papa," protested Billy, "you said--" - -"Come to dinner, everybody, please," interrupted Henrietta, in response -to an appealing glance from Bartlett. "I am starving whether you others -are or not." - -"We had better," cried the general jocularly, "or this young man will -become a bear instead of a bull." He laid his hand affectionately on -the Watermelon's shoulder and walked down the hall with it resting -there. - - - - - *CHAPTER V* - - *A PLAN AND A TELEGRAM* - - -The big, cool dining-room, with tall palms and plants, snowy tables and -gleaming silver, the crowd of well-dressed people, the talk and -laughter, and the obsequious, hurrying waiters, was not a new experience -to the Watermelon. For one short, painful week, he had essayed to be a -waiter and had finally seen the folly of his ways and given it up after -he had broken more china than his wages, which were withheld, could -cover. His complete indifference as to what people thought of him made -him entirely at his ease, while his scattered wits were coming back with -a rush and his colossal self-assurance was growing every moment he was -in the society of the charming Billy. - -"I was a hash-slinger once," said he, gazing at her across the table. - -Her small nose wrinkled with pleasure and the single dimple flashed -forth and was gone. - -"That's right," said the general, who grew more fond of his guest with -every passing remark. "Don't be ashamed of the past just because you -have money now." - -"You blacked boots, too, I believe?" questioned Bartlett, the results of -that unfortunate cotton deal he had participated in still rankling. -"Quite interesting." - -The Watermelon had ears only for Billy. She spoke and it was as if the -others had been silent. - -"Was it fun?" she asked. - -"Oh, yes," drawled the Watermelon sarcastically. "It was fun all right. -Everybody wanted to be waited on first and everybody wanted the white -meat." - -"What did they do when they didn't get waited on?" asked Billy. - -"Yelled at me," said the Watermelon, "as if I was their servant. This -is a free country and we are all equal. I said that to one old gent -once and it raised Cain." - -"What'd he say?" - -"He said that might be, but we didn't remain equal." - -"What did you say?" - -"I said, 'I know it and I am sorry for you, sir. Don't blame yourself -too much,' I said. 'Was it drink that did it?' When I left they didn't -give me any pay." - -"Why not?" asked Billy, eagerly amused. - -"They said I had broken too many dishes. I said if I had known they were -going to keep my pay, I would have broken twice as many." - -"Why didn't you do it, then?" asked Billy, whose ideas of vengeance were -young and drastic. - -"Too much work," explained the Watermelon. "If I wasn't extra strong, I -wouldn't have been able to break what I did." - -"I presume you return to the city to-night?" questioned Bartlett. - -The Watermelon thought of the shivering wretch who was trying to hide -his nakedness in the forest depths and shook his head. "I'm leaving -about three," said he, putting the parting off as long as possible -because of Billy. It hurt him to think of leaving her, even then, -charming, dainty Billy. - -"Tell me some other things you have done," teased Billy. - -"If I sat over that side," said the Watermelon with the boldness of -desperation. In two short hours they would part for good, so why not -make the most of the short time allowed? "If I sat over that side, I -could tell you so much better the sad, sweet story of my life." - -"Come on," laughed Billy. And the Watermelon rose, to the amusement of -those nearest, went around the table and drew up a chair beside Billy, -with the general on the other side of him. - -Henrietta made vain attempts to take a hostess' part in the -conversation, and both Billy and the Watermelon made equally polite and -good-natured endeavors to include her, but when two are young, and one -is pretty and the other handsome, a third person assumes the proportions -of not a crowd so much as a mob. The general was enjoying himself -sufficiently with his dinner. He and Bartlett had gone to the same -school and he felt as much right to neglect Bartlett as though he had -been a brother. Henrietta turned to Bartlett and they chatted on the -trivial affairs of the day, while Henrietta wondered if she did seem so -very old to the Watermelon and Bartlett matured a plan that had come to -him like an inspiration as he watched the Watermelon's frank admiration -for Billy. - -In the crash on the Street which had broken the cotton ring and had -brought a comparatively young and hitherto unknown man into prominence, -Bartlett had lost more than he cared to think about. Though his name -had not appeared, he had been heavily involved. The ring had needed but -a week, a day, more to bring it to perfection, then in a night, from -whence hardly a soul knew, having worked quietly, steadily, -persistently, this unforeseen factor had arisen and defeat stared the -ring in the face. Another week would bring complete collapse unless -this William Hargrave Batchelor could be suppressed. They had tried to -see him, but he would not be seen. Clearly he had no price, preferring -to fight to a finish, which was an admirable quality in one so young, -but hardly to be desired in an opponent who unfortunately had every -chance to win. Voluntarily, he would not leave the fight, but if he -could be suppressed? The following Saturday was the crucial time. If -he did not return until the day after? - -Bartlett had left the city late the previous afternoon to spend Sunday -with Billy, away from the heat and worry of the scene of battle, and -here was William Hargrave Batchelor, apparently doing the same thing. -Clearly it was a dispensation of Providence. There was Billy, and after -all William Hargrave Batchelor was young and human. He had probably -never known girls like Billy before, or dined with them as equals. He -certainly had made no attempt to hide his admiration for this particular -one. Bartlett chatted gaily with Henrietta and watched the two -opposite, trying to decide if it would be possible to kidnap the young -man for a week, take him farther into the country, get him away from -Wall Street at any cost. Were Billy's charms equal to the attempt? - -William Hargrave Batchelor was said to be a cold, hard-headed youth, who -had risen by sheer grit and determination to the place he now held, -riding rough-shod over his own and every one else's desires and -pleasures. A calm, imperturbable young man, with cruel keen eyes, the -papers described him. Watching him across the table, Bartlett decided -that his square jaw and thin mouth fitted the description fairly well, -but that the eyes were a complete contradiction. They were neither keen -nor cruel, but soft and mild and sleepy. The whole face was careless, -indifferent, and if it were not for the jaw, Bartlett would have hardly -believed it possible that Batchelor was sitting opposite him. His own -jaw snapped and he swore to himself that he would keep him for a week, -either through Billy or otherwise. So strong is the power of suggestion, -it did not enter his head to question the youth's identity. - -They were rising from the table now. The general, having dined to his -satisfaction, was beaming with good humor and stories. Excusing himself -a moment, Bartlett hurried to the telegraph station in the office. He -hunted for his code, but could not find it and had to write the telegram -in English. It would be safe enough. The operator was a raw country -youth who wouldn't be able to understand it anyway, and it would go -direct to his broker, who would be spending the day at his country place -on Long Island. - -"Have W.H.B.," wrote Bartlett. "Will take him for a week's tour in the -country, with Billy's help. Eat them up." - -"Rush it," he ordered sternly, "and bring me the answer. I will wait -for it on the porch." - -The news soon spread that the stranger dining with the general and his -daughter was none other than the suddenly famous young stock broker, -whose grim defiance of the Street was told in head-lines in the daily -papers, and whose life from the cradle up was thrillingly recounted in -the Sunday supplement. When he had changed his seat at the table, there -had been a suppressed titter of amusement for the eccentricities of a -great man, and those who made a study of human nature saw plainly an -indication of that character which knew what it wanted and would get it -and keep it, overriding all obstacles. A man like that, nothing could -down. - -As they stood on the porch after dinner, waiting for Bartlett to rejoin -them, the four were soon surrounded by an ever-growing circle of friends -and near friends, and to his pained surprise, the Watermelon was the -admired center of the group. All looked on him much as the general did, -not so much as a man but as a character out of the Sunday supplement. -Bored to exhaustion, he shook hands limply with a score or more whom he -did not know and did not want to know. - -It was getting late and he would have to return the clothes and become -once more merely the Watermelon. He had forgotten the beauty show and -had no heart for it now. When he left Billy nothing more counted, -nothing mattered. Old clothes or good, hobo or millionaire, without -Billy, one was as desirable as the other. He would return the clothes -and beat it up the line that evening. James and Mike could go to grass. -Meanwhile, instead of getting the most out of the short space of time -allotted to him and having Billy alone somewhere, here he was shaking -hands with a frowsy bunch of highbrows. - -"Mr. Batchelor, would you invest in copper, if you were I?" queried an -elderly maiden whose hand he had weakly grasped and but just dropped. - -The Watermelon looked around, desperately, miserably. Billy was gazing -at him from the edge of the crowd, awe fighting with admiration and -amusement on her small face. Henrietta had presented him gaily, to this -one and that, and the general, thoroughly in his element, stood by and -showed him off as though he were a new horse or the latest model -motor-car. - -"No," said the Watermelon. "I would not invest in copper." - -"Have you any copper?" questioned another with a wink that the great man -was caught. - -"No," repeated the Watermelon with the animation of a hitching-post. "I -have no copper. I have never had any, not even pennies," he added, -thinking how fast the time was going and he would become a tramp again, -with ragged clothes and empty pockets, while Billy would still -be--Billy. - -Every one laughed and the general essayed a joke on his own account. -"Greenbacks are a better investment," said he, "and you have invested in -them pretty well." - -"How could you tear yourself away from the Street?" asked one -impressionable young thing. - -"I don't know," said the Watermelon. "Wall Street is practically my -home." And he gazed languidly over their heads into the trees across -the road. - -"Oh, Mr. Batchelor, do you think the tariff will affect the cost of -living?" inquired another of his new friends. "So many people claim -that it will." - -Henrietta laughed. "Poor Mr. Batchelor," said she. "You can now -realize some of the drawbacks to greatness." - -"The tariff," said the Watermelon monotonously, "is all right. Take it -from me." - -He glanced again at Billy. The clock in the garage struck two and he -hesitated no longer. "My car," he muttered vaguely, and made for the -steps. He ran down them and started around the hotel toward the -stables. As he passed near the place where Billy stood, he looked up -straight into her eyes. - -"Aren't you coming to see my car--Billy?" he asked, the odd little name -below his breath, so that even she did not hear. - -"Oh, yes, indeed," said Billy. - -He caught her hands and swung her down to the lawn beside him. - -At the garage they did not stop. The Watermelon heard the general -panting behind in the distance, but he did not pause. Ungratefully he -led the way down a narrow path around the stable, into the deep, cool -shade of the woods. It was two. He would give himself until the clock -struck three, before he slunk away into the unknown again. - - - - - *CHAPTER VI* - - *WHAT IS HEAVEN LIKE* - - -They found a little mossy knoll beside the brook and Billy made herself -comfortable against a tree trunk, while the Watermelon sprawled at her -feet. - -"Say," said he, "what do those guys take me for? The editor of the -'Answer to correspondents' page?" - -"I bet you know as much," said Billy with artless simplicity. - -"Sure, I know as much," grinned the Watermelon. "But I'm not paid to -tell what I know. It would be starvation rates for mine," he added. - -Billy laughed. "Didn't you ever go to school?" she asked. - -"Yes, I went to school, when father didn't forget." - -"Didn't forget?" - -"He had eight kids, you see, and he used to say a man couldn't be -responsible for more than six. Two kids, he used to say, were a -blessing, four a care, six a burden, and eight an affliction, and no man -is responsible for his afflictions." - -"I wish I had some relatives," said Billy wistfully. "There are only -daddy and I. Don't you like relatives, some one who belongs to you?" - -"Father used to say that relatives were an affliction, and he supposed a -man had to have afflictions to make a man of him, but if he had had any -influence with Providence, he would have preferred not to be a man." - -"Who was your father?" asked Billy. - -"A minister," answered the Watermelon, clasping his hands behind his -head and staring up at the interlaced boughs overhead. "A country -minister. He used to say that there was just one thing in this world -more pitiful than a country minister, and that was his wife." - -"Why," cried Billy, "the papers said he used to be a policeman." - -"I thought you didn't read the papers?" - -"I don't, just the Sunday supplements," said Billy frankly, as one to -whom his intellectual development is of minor importance. - -The Watermelon wheeled over with a laugh and caught her hand. "Hang -dad!" he exclaimed. "Where'd you get your name?" - -He drew himself up on the log beside her, as near as he dared. He -wanted to put his arm around the slim waist, but decided that he had -better not. - -She jerked her hand away and laughed, her small nose wrinkled, the -dimple coming and going. "Don't you like it?" - -"Sure. It's classy, all right. But what is the long of it?" - -"Wilhelmina. Dad's is William, just like yours. We're all Billies." - -"Mine ain't William," sneered the Watermelon, edging a bit nearer. - -Her eyes opened and she stared in frank surprise. "But the papers -say--" - -"The papers lie faster than I can," said the Watermelon, "and that's -fairly speedy." He had only an hour and he did not care what she -thought between him and the papers. "Billy is a darned cute little -name, and a cute little girl," he added. - -"I guess you can lie faster than the papers," said she. - -"I can when I want to," admitted the Watermelon. "Father used to say -that a man that couldn't lie was a fool and one who wouldn't, a bigger." - -"I should think if your father was a minister that he wouldn't lie," -said Billy severely. - -"I know. But he used to say he had to in a business way. To tell a man -that there was a bigger hell than this earth was a lie on the face of -it." - -"Why?" - -"Because there couldn't be, he used to say." - -"Don't you believe in Heaven?" demanded Billy. - -"Sure," said the Watermelon. - -"What do you think it's like?" asked Billy. - -"A watermelon patch," said the Watermelon promptly. "Just when all the -fruit is ripe. Don't you think so?" - -"I think it's an ice-cream counter," said Billy. - -"Naw. At an ice-cream counter you would have to have money." - -"Not in Heaven, you wouldn't," said Billy. "It would all be free and you -could have as much as you wanted." - -"Who would wait on you? Any one could pick a watermelon, but everybody -can't mix an ice-cream soda." - -"The bad people would. That would be hell, you see, always serving it -to others and never allowed to taste any." - -"That wouldn't work, either," objected the Watermelon. "Because there -would be so many more to do the serving than there would be people to -serve. No, we are both wrong. Heaven is a grove of trees back of a -white garage. There's a fallen log and a couple sitting on it." - -"I should think that would be monotonous," said Billy. "Do they talk?" - -"Sure, they talk. Heaven ain't a deaf and dumb asylum." - -"I should think they would get talked out during eternity." - -"Ah," said the Watermelon, leaning a bit nearer, "eternity is but a -minute." - -"What do they talk about?" - -"Heaven." - -"Are they angels?" - -"One is." - -Billy laughed. "Who are you?" she asked, leaning toward him, one hand -resting on the log between them, her steady eyes on his face. - -The Watermelon again drew forth the card case, extracted a card and -presented it to her with a flourish. - -Holding it, she shook her head dubiously. "I mean are you a -stock-broker? Are you on 'Change? Father has been nearly all his life, -and he looks it. His eyes and--everything. Your eyes are different, -quite different. I don't mean in color and size, for of course they -would be, but in expression." - -"How do you know?" asked the Watermelon. "You have only seen their -expression when I have been looking at you, and a man doesn't look at a -girl as if she were the tape from the ticker." - -"I know," acknowledged Billy. "But I have known brokers all my life, -and some have been young, and they--they aren't like you. I never sat -on a log with one and talked about Heaven." - -"Well, you see, I am a minister's son, and I had Heaven with every meal, -as it were." - -"Maybe that's it," agreed Billy. - -A stick snapped behind them as though some one were approaching their -retreat with stealthy tread under cover of the friendly bushes. - -"Are you afraid of cows?" asked Billy, glancing over her shoulder -fearfully. - -"Not of female cows," said the Watermelon. - -"A broker wouldn't have said that," objected Billy, pursing up her -mouth. "A broker would say, 'No, indeed, Miss Bartlett. Don't be -afraid. A cow is really harmless,' and smile as if I were young and -half-witted, anyway." - -A stick snapped again, nearer, and a woodpecker fled from a group of -trees, scolding angrily. - -Billy rose nervously. "If that's a male cow--" - -"Sit down," ordered the Watermelon. "It's no cow, unfortunately. It's -the general." - -"Don't you like the general?" asked Billy, sitting down again, but ready -to rise quickly, instantly. - -"Yes, I like him, but I don't think I would if I were a motor-car." - -"I have known him and Henrietta all my life," said Billy. "Henrietta -has been like a mother to me," she added, a statement Henrietta would -have denied, shortly but firmly. "Really, we ought to go back." - -"Politeness is not politeness unless it comes from the heart," said the -Watermelon, in the tones that had made Henrietta think of a minister, -she knew not why. - -"Did your father used to say that?" - -"No, he never had any cause to. We never were polite." - -Billy glanced around. "I thought I heard some one cough." - -"So did I. It can't be the general. He wouldn't cough." - -A hollow cough sounded distinctly from the bushes behind and the -Watermelon rose to investigate. It was nearly three and at three he -would have to go, or the man down yonder in the swimming hole might come -after him to reclaim his clothes and motor-car. The Watermelon -begrudged every precious moment. - -"Wait, and I will see what the mutt wants," said he. "You will wait, -won't you?" he pleaded, looking down at her where she sat on the log. - -"We really ought to go," said Billy. - -"All right, but don't run off until I've--I've cured that cough, will -you?" - -Billy nodded and the Watermelon strode to the bushes from whence had -sounded the harsh, constrained cough. He pushed the branches aside and -gazed into the small, pinched face of a thin youth of about eighteen, -dressed in the uniform of the hotel. - -"Hist," cautioned the boy, before the Watermelon could speak. "I want -to tell you something important." - -"All right, spit it out and be quick about it," ordered the Watermelon. - -If the real William Hargrave Batchelor had managed to get word to the -hotel about the impostor, the sooner he knew it the better. The boy had -probably come to offer to help him escape in exchange for something, -money most likely. Like all tramps, the Watermelon was quick to read -faces, and in the crafty young face before him, he saw only the dollar -mark. - -"It--I don't want no one to hear me," said the boy, with a motion toward -the log and Billy's slim young back. - -The Watermelon hesitated, but in the shifty eyes he saw fear and -deference. If he knew the Watermelon for a tramp, there would be no -deference. - -"Gwan, spit it out," ordered the Watermelon. "I ain't keen for the -pleasure of hearing any of your heart to heart secrets." - -"It's very important," said the boy, "and no one must hear." - -"I suppose you think every one is busting to hear your words of wisdom," -said the Watermelon. "Probably get a dime a word, eh?" - -"It's about you," said the boy, harsh with impatience and nervousness. -"It's--" He drew a piece of paper from his pocket and held it out. "He -gave me that to send." - -"Who are you?" - -"The telegraph clerk," whispered the boy, with a frightened glance -toward Billy on the log. - -The Watermelon read the paper and smiled a slow, sweet smile of -anticipated pleasure as the full import of Bartlett's telegram became -clear. He glanced at Billy and his smile deepened. Then he turned and -drew the boy farther away. - -"Bartlett sent this, eh?" - -"Yes," cried the boy, eager with excitement over the service he was -rendering the great man. "And the minute I read it and knew that you -were here, I knew you ought to have it." - -"Didn't you send it?" - -"Yes, I had to. You see he stood right there. But just as soon as he -went, I lit out to find you." - -"Where is he now?" - -"I seen him on the front porch with Miss Grossman. Say, you'll want to -be going now, won't you, huh? You ken get to New York to-night if you -hurry." - -The Watermelon rattled the coins in his pockets and looked down at the -thin, crafty face of the youngster. "Kid," said lie, "if you keep on as -you've begun, you'll be doing time, sure. You're a thieving little -snipe and ought to be the head of a corporation some day, or a United -States senator, 'cause you haven't as much honor as a grasshopper, see? -I don't know why you shouldn't land in Sing Sing, if you miss the -corporation job or the senate." - -"Huh," said the boy, reddening with the praise of the great man. - -"If you let on that you have shown this to me, you will lose your job -here, you know. So, until I can see my friend, J. Pierpont, about that -other job for you, you'd better keep your mouth shut. Understand?" - -"Sure," cried the boy. "Course I understand." - -The Watermelon handed him a quarter. "When I reach New York," said he -airily, "I'll send you me check for a thousand." - - - - - *CHAPTER VII* - - *WATERMELON YIELDS* - - -Eager to accomplish the plan he had suddenly conceived, the Watermelon -turned and strolled back to Billy, while the boy gazed after such -majesty in awed admiration. - -"Who was it?" asked Billy, looking up as the Watermelon approached. - -"The telegraph clerk," said the Watermelon calmly. "A telegram--and he -brought it to me." - -He made no motion to sit down and Billy rose. - -"I suppose you have to go back," said she. She had to throw back her -head to see into his face, for the top of her beflowered hat only -reached to his shoulder. - -"No," said the Watermelon, preparing the way for the future. "I could -take a few days off, if I wanted to. Come on. I might as well try and -save the remains of my car after the general has done his best to ruin -it. I heard him go into the garage as we got out of sight. The general -is more expensive than a motorcar." - -"I like the general," said Billy, as they started slowly back. - -"I suppose he has been like a grandfather to you," said the Watermelon, -glancing down at the top of the big hat. "Don't you want me for a -relative of some kind?" - -"You said relatives were afflictions," objected Billy. - -"I know; but it is only through our afflictions that we can rise to -higher things." - -"What higher things?" - -"Why, Heaven, as I described it last." - -They found the general with Henrietta and Bartlett in the garage. The -general was kindly superintending the filling of the absent Batchelor's -car with gasolene, Bartlett was expounding the merits of his make of car -as superior to any other make, while Henrietta sat on the step of the -general's car and pretended to be listening. - -"I took the liberty," apologized the general, as the other two appeared -in the doorway, feeling, on the contrary, that he was doing the young -man an inestimable favor. - -"Go ahead," said the Watermelon. - -"Draw the line somewhere," advised Henrietta. "Father is too fond of -trying to see what makes the wheels go round to give him carte blanche -with any car." - -"I understand a car thoroughly, Henrietta," said the general. "I have -always been fond of mechanics." - -"I know it, dear," said Henrietta with contrition. "I have always said -that if you hadn't been a general, you would have been a master -mechanic." - -"Thank God, he's a general," whispered the Watermelon into the small ear -of Billy. - -"To thoroughly appreciate a car, you should take a trip of a week or -two," said Bartlett, not glancing at the Watermelon, apparently talking -to the general alone. "There is nothing like it. It has revolutionized -travel. Have you ever done it, General, spent a month, a week, at -least, in your car, going where you wanted, stopping as long as you -wanted and as often?" - -Assured that Alphonse was attending to the gasolene, the general -withdrew his invaluable supervision and turned to the others. - -"We spent a week in the car last summer, and we intended to do it again -this year, but have somehow put it off." - -"It's perfectly delightful," said Henrietta. "You wonder how you ever -tolerated a train." - -"It is tramping idealized," declared Bartlett. - -"It's dandy," cried Billy. "Daddy, do you remember that time we went -from Maine straight down the coast to Maryland?" - -The general turned to the Watermelon. "I suppose you have grown tired -of it," said he, "A young unmarried man can go when and where he wants." - -"Oh, I've been around some," admitted the Watermelon modestly. "But -never in a car." - -"You should try it, my dear sir," said Bartlett. "Upon my word, you -have no idea how fascinating it is." - -"I never owned a car." - -"You do now," laughed Henrietta. "Now's your chance." - -"I've no one to go with," replied the Watermelon innocently, smiling -down at Henrietta on the car step and not looking at Bartlett. - -Henrietta laughed and threw out one of her delicate, graceful hands with -a little gesture that embraced the whole group. "You have all of us, -now," said she. "We have made you one of us." - -Bartlett agreed with a chuckle. Things were coming his way with hardly -any effort on his part, as they, had had a way of doing until William -Hargrave Batchelor had made himself too annoying. He took it as a good -sign and smiled cheerfully. - -"You can take us all," laughed Billy. - -"A week," said Bartlett tentatively, "in the country, away from -telegrams and letters and papers, it would do me a vast amount of good. -I have been overworking lately." He nodded gravely, in confirmation of -his own remark. "I would like to drop everything, now, this minute, -crank up the car and start, no matter where, any place, any road. You -don't need clothes. The lighter you travel, the better. You can put up -anywhere you happen to be for the night, and, if you get lost it does -not matter, merely adds to the fun and affords an adventure." - -"It sounds alluring," said Henrietta. "Suppose we all go, just as we -are!" - -"We could," cried Billy. "Why, Dad, we could do it easily. I have that -linen dress I wore yesterday, and my brush and comb and things, and you -have yours." - -"But the general and Henrietta," objected Bartlett. "They only ran up -here for the day, my dear. They may not have anything." - -"Yes, we have," cried Henrietta, "We planned to stay a week or two and -sent a trunk along. We could easily pack a suit-case." - -"Oh!" exclaimed Billy. "Do let's do it." - -"I noticed a suit-case in your car, Batchelor," Bartlett turned to the -Watermelon, genially. "I judge you are planning to take a few days' -jaunt somewhere." - -"I was thinking of it," acknowledged the Watermelon, with truth, -lounging gracefully in the doorway. - -Bartlett laughed. "We are crazy, all of us," said he and waved the -suggestion aside as a whimsical fancy best forgotten. - -"Oh, Daddy, please," teased Billy. - -"But, Billy, child, the others don't want to do it, the general or -Batchelor." - -"I want to," said Henrietta, "and so does the general. Father, wouldn't -you like to take a trip in the car somewhere for a week or two?" - -The general's attention had wandered back to the car. He turned -abstractedly. "Do what, Henrietta?" - -"Take a trip in the car for a week or two." - -"Yes, we must plan one later, as we did last summer." - -"But we mean now, father, start right now." - -"Now? Henrietta, you're foolish, my dear." - -"No, indeed, father. Why not now? 'Do it now' is your favorite motto, -you know." - -"It is impossible," and the general, also, dismissed the subject. - -Bartlett thrust his hands in his pockets and appeared absorbed in his -car. He knew Billy. - -"Why impossible?" asked Billy, laying a small hand on the general's arm. -"You were going to spend a week here. Why not spend it in your car? -You have no engagement, have you?" - -"No," said the general, smiling into her pretty face. "But what about -clothes?" - -"Clothes," laughed Billy, "why, clothes--" - -"Be hanged," said the Watermelon. - -Bartlett laughed. "Quite so. Wash out on the line, general. Better -come." - -"Pretend the Indians have risen," said Henrietta, "and you are given an -hour to get into marching order." - -"Ah, yes," cried the eager Billy, patting the arm she clung to. "You -used to do it, General, why, in half an hour, out on the plains." - -"What do you know about it, puss?" asked the general. - -"Didn't you?" pleaded Billy. - -"Yes," said the general, who always gave in to a pretty woman. "I used -to. In those days we were always ready for a fight." - -"So you will go? I knew you would." - -"But Mr. Batchelor may have to return to the city," suggested Henrietta, -glancing at the Watermelon. - -Bartlett shot a glance at the young man and began to whistle softly -through his teeth as he indifferently raised the bonnet of his car and -examined the clean, well-ordered machinery within. Would Billy's charms -be enough to hold the young man against his better judgment? Could he -forget what the next week meant to him, forget the lure of the Street, -the rise and fall of stocks, in the light of a woman's eyes, in the -sound of a woman's laugh? If Billy could not keep him, what could? He -must be kept. A week with him out of the way, the ring could be -renewed, strengthened, that which was lost, regained. Bartlett bent low -over his car, but he heard Billy, sweetly speaking to the Watermelon. - -"You don't have to return to the city, do you? You would much rather go -with us, wouldn't you?" - -The Watermelon glanced at Bartlett. If he accepted too readily, -Bartlett might wonder, yet if he hesitated, if he thought apparently of -how important his presence in the city would be in the coming week, even -if there were to be a few days of armed neutrality, it might seem even -more impossible that he would consent to go. - -"Can't you join us, Batchelor?" asked the general. "You've made enough -for one while. When you run out of that three million, you can go back. -Time enough then." - -"Swollen fortunes are a crime nowadays," said Henrietta, smiling her -odd, half gay, half tender smile. - -"Come ahead, Batchelor," urged Bartlett with friendly good nature, -neither too eager, nor too insistent, but his eyes were half shut and -the palms of his hands wet as he rubbed them on his handkerchief. - -"We will start to-night," said Billy. "It will be beautiful. In the -night, driving is perfectly lovely, you know, Mr. Batchelor." - -"Better come," advised the general. "We can keep in touch with the -telegraph. It's not as if we were going into the wilds of Africa." - -"No, indeed," said Bartlett. "I have interests in New York, myself, -that I want to keep an eye on." - -Billy laid her hand on his arm. "Won't you come?" she teased. - -The Watermelon looked down, under the brim of her hat, into the -gray-green eyes and smiled. - -"Yes," he said simply. "I would like to." - - - - - *CHAPTER VIII* - - *GRATITUDE IS A FLOWER* - - -James lay in the shade of the butternut tree and smoked gloomily. He -was well-shaved and his hair newly cut and carefully brushed, but his -clothes were still the rags that had graced his muscular form since the -dim, nearly forgotten long ago, when he had stolen them one lucky night -from some back yard passed in the course of his travels. - -He squinted at the sun through the tree tops and judged it to be about -four. The Watermelon had evidently done no better or he would have -turned up before. Mike, sprawled in the grass beside him, slept with -the stentorian slumber of the corpulent. James kicked him. - -"Aw, wake up," he growled. "I want your rare intelligence to unbosom me -sorrowful and heavy heart to." - -Mike yawned, stretched and sat up, pushing his shapeless hat to the back -of his round hot head. He drew his sleeve across his streaming forehead -and yawned and stretched again. - -"You ought to relax, James," said he, cutting a square from the plug of -tobacco that he carried carefully wrapped in a soiled piece of tinfoil. -"Youse will have noivous prostration one of these days with the -strenuous life youse leads. The modern hurry and worry is all wrong. -Now, take me--" - -"No one would take you, not even a kodak," sneered James, scowling -before him moodily. - -"The matter with you, James," said Mike, sticking the tobacco into his -mouth with the blade of his knife, "the matter with you is youse are -harboring and cultivating that green-eyed monster called jealousy. -Youse are, in short, jealous of me young friend, the Watermillion." - -"Aw, jealous of a kid! Who? Me? Not on your tin-type." - -"You say so, James. We all deny the werminous cancers that gnaw our -vitals. But look into your own heart, question yourself--" - -"Aw, pound yer ear," snapped James. - -Some one was heard approaching and Mike paused from cleaning the blade -of his knife in the ground before him to listen. - -"The youth comes," said he, and rose clumsily to his little fat legs. -He stepped aside to see up the path, but James did not move. - -"A radiant vision of manly beauty," announced Mike, one hand on his -heart, the other shading his small eyes as though dazzled by a great and -brilliant light. - -James glanced up sullenly. A youth was coming through the trees, tall -and graceful and broad-shouldered. His suit of soft brown, his gently -tipped panama, his light shoes and silk socks brought with them a breath -of motor-cars and steam yachts, of the smoker in a railway train, with a -white-clad, attentive porter, instead of the brake beam underneath and -an irate station-master and furious conductor. From the lapel of his -coat gleamed a heavy gold chain and in his stylish tie a pin of odd but -costly workmanship caught the eye of the enraptured beholder. - -Mike laid his hand on his heart again, removed his hat, and standing -aside for the youth to pass, bowed low. - -"Me lud," said he in humble salutation. - -[Illustration: "Me lud," he said in humble salutation] - -James glanced up from his seat under the butternut tree. He regarded -the vision of affluence before him a moment in growing admiration and -awe. Then he removed his pipe and spoke. - -"You'll get three years for this," said he cheerfully, and put his pipe -back into his mouth. - -"Three nothing," sneered the Watermelon. - -"Jealousy," said Mike, putting his hat on the back of his frowsy head. -"Jealousy maketh the tongue cruel and the heart bitter. Me," he spread -forth his fat dirty hands, "me beauty is such it gives me no concern. I -realize youse can not gild the lily." - -The Watermelon drew himself up to his full height, threw back his -shoulders and fastidiously adjusted his cuffs, with their heavy gold -links. - -"With every passing moment, more beautiful," murmured Mike. - -James snorted. - -"Well," asked the Watermelon, "who gets the prize?" - -"Me humble faculties," said Mike, with one wary eye on James, "me humble -faculties are incapable of rendering true and accurate judgment in the -present case where two such rare specimens of manly beauty compete in my -honored and deeply grateful presence." - -The Watermelon laughed and ran his hand over his smooth chin and -hairless cheeks with a gesture of gentle pride. "James said if I could -not get a suit, I would be counted down and out. I," and he drew -himself up, "I do not have to take advantage of a mere technicality. I -scorn to win by default." - -"True nobility," said Mike, "is in them words." - -"Aw, cut the gas!" growled James. "Where'd you get the blooming outfit?" - -"I win, do I?" persisted the Watermelon. - -"Mike's the judge," returned James, losing interest in what was too -obviously a one-sided contest. - -"In this competition, there are three points to decide," declared Mike, -not quite sure whom he feared the more, James or the Watermelon. "Beauty -of face, beauty of clothes and beauty of soul. The one who gets two -points out of the three wins." - -The Watermelon nodded, James grunted. - -Mike glanced thoughtfully from one to the other and decided that danger -lay in either choice. "Neither of you," said he slowly and wisely, -"win. For unexcelled art in raiment, me young friend here might be said -to be the only competitor. For rare physical beauty and winning charm -in looks, unaided by mere externals, me friend and fellow-citizen, -James, gets the just reward, and for pure, manly beauty of the soul, -truth, which I always follow, compels me to give the prize to me humble -self." - -"Aw," growled James, "this ain't no show. We will have another." - -The Watermelon hitched up his trousers and chose a clean seat on a -fallen log. When coat and trousers legs were adjusted so as best to -keep their faultless creases, he spoke with the bored accents of the -weary scion of great wealth. - -"I'm starting for a motor tour with some of me friends," said he. - -"I," said Mike, "have always felt for you as for a dear and only son." - -"Gwan," said James imperiously. "Where did you get the glad rags?" - -The Watermelon told them briefly how from a nameless hobo a few short -hours before, he had become a famous young financier, hobnobbing with -generals and millionaires. He chuckled as he told it with the -half-cynical amusement of the philosopher for the follies of the poor, -seething, hurrying, struggling crowd of humanity, too busy in their rush -for gold and social position to see their own laughable pitiful shams -and affectations. Poverty clears the eyesight as nothing else can, and -the Watermelon had been poor so long and was so indifferent to his -position that he had lost none of his clearness of vision in the -strenuous endeavor of the others, and he saw, unconsciously, but -nevertheless keenly, the dead level of human nature, with its artificial -hills of gold and social position. - -"Me father, I believe, is a policeman," said he. "Me mother a -wash-woman. If I had a grandfather, no one knows. I'm fortunate to -have a father and no questions asked, yet just because I can write me -check, as they think, for a million and have it honored, I'm 'my boy' to -the elite of the land, the 'best people.' Gosh, it's enough to make an -ass bray." - -"It is that," said Mike. "For me, only the intrinsic worth of the soul. -Maybe there was a bit of change in the pockets?" he added as an -afterthought. - -"Yes, there was quite a bit. He's fresh at the game and carries a roll -to show off with," returned the Watermelon, pulling a roll of bills from -his pocket. Mike edged a bit nearer. "See here, I want you fellers to -do something for me." - -"For you," said Mike, "I would give me immortal soul." - -"I want something more than that, Mike," said the Watermelon. - -"Me plug of baccy?" asked Mike with feeling. - -The Watermelon shook his head as he slowly pulled a greenback from the -bunch he held. "I want you two to go to that lake, get my clothes out -of the log and give 'em to the poor devil." - -"Don't be a fool," advised James. "He's all right. Nothing will happen -to him." - -"I know, but I keep thinking of him. He can afford to lose what he is -going to lose, but all the same, he's cold and tired." - -"Aw, don't go and do that," pleaded Mike. "He'll have youse arrested--" - -"I ain't going to be around here; besides, no one would think of looking -for me with the swell bunch I'm going with." - -"Maybe not," admitted James gravely, "but there's always the danger that -some cop will have brains. And he's bound to get away to-night, all -right, and have the bulls on you the minute he does. You had better -take all the time you can to get away and don't try to shorten it none." - -The Watermelon slowly unwound another bill and nodded. "I know, but I'm -sorry for him. A few hours won't make much difference. He hasn't the -slightest idea who swiped his clothes. He'll think some tramp did and -that the feller is getting out of the country by cross-cuts and as fast -as he can. Don't you see? No one will look for me with the general and -Bartlett. I'm going to have a week of fun--" - -"Maybe," said James gloomily. "Hardly, if you give that bloke his -clothes before you need to." - -The Watermelon waved the statement aside. "We are going to leave about -five," said he. "They are waiting for me, now. It will take you a bit -of a walk to find the place. I put the clothes in an empty log near a -pile of rocks at the foot of three tall pines, standing together about -ten yards from the lake. You can't help but find it. Give him the -clothes and this check-book and fountain pen. I can't use them and you -two won't get gay with them 'cause Mike's a coward, and James has too -much sense." - -"You're a damn fool," said James shortly. - -"He's all right," argued Mike, meaning the man in the forest shades. -"What can hurt him?" - -"I know, but he's mighty uncomfortable. Can't sit down, maybe, and there -may be flies and mosquitoes--" - -"Naw," protested Mike. "He's just comfortable. If it was the style, I -would like to have gone naked to-day." - -"He'll have the police after youse," warned James, "as soon as he can -reach the village." - -"Sure he will. Gratitude is a flower," said Mike grandiloquently, "that -I have never picked." - -"And never will," added James with grim pessimism. - -"That's all right," returned the Watermelon. "I ain't gathering any -flowers this trip. Here's a ten-spot for each of you, and mind you do -what I say." - -"For you," said Mike, "I'd give me heart's blood." - -"Where do we find this pond?" asked James. - -"Come with me and I'll take you to the road that leads by it. You give -me time to get to the hotel, though, before you give him his clothes." - -"Trust me," said Mike, lovingly concealing the greenback in the dark -dirty recesses of his rags. - -They parted in the road where the Watermelon had come upon the big red -touring car. Mike and James watched him until he disappeared over the -top of the hill, then climbed the wall and made their way through the -woods to the little mountain lake. - -"We won't get the clothes," said James, "until we have had a talk with -the guy and tried to get him into a reasonable frame of mind. It's just -likely that he may be somewhat put out." - -There was no one in sight as they made their way cautiously to the edge -of the lake. The trees grew nearly down to the narrow, pebbly beach and -were reflected in the quiet depths of the water. The little brook, -tumbling over its miniature waterfall, with a ripple and splash, was the -only sound that broke the all-pervading silence. Nothing stirred in the -underbrush, neither man nor beast, and James and Mike were about to slip -away as quietly as they came when a stick snapped behind them sharply -and Mike wheeled. - -A man was peering at them eagerly over the tops of a few bushes. His -face was white and his teeth chattering. His arms, dimly discerned -through the branches, were wrapped around his shivering form with fervor -and he was standing gingerly on first one foot and then the other. - -"Hello," said Mike facetiously. "Going in?" and he nodded casually -backward to the lake. - -"Been in," chattered the miserable wretch, trying to control his teeth -so that he could say more. - -"Oughtn't to stay in too long," advised James solicitously. "Your lips -look blue." - -"Bad for the heart," said Mike. - -"We ain't ladies," added James with delicacy. "You might come out from -them bushes." - -"Some--some one stole my--my--my clothes," stammered the young man, -stepping carefully forth. "Been here--here since this--this morning." -He looked sharply at the shabby pair before him, with quick distrust in -his bloodshot eyes and added coldly, "Some--some tramp." - -"Did you see him?" asked James. - -"No--no--no. But who else could have stolen them?" - -"I," said Mike, drawing himself up to his five feet five and throwing -back his pudgy shoulders, "I am a tramp. I trust, sir, you meant no -insult to me profession?" - -The stranger waved the question aside. "Get me some clothes and I'll -give you some money." - -"What money?" asked James. - -"I will send you some. I am rich. My car is in the road. Maybe you -saw it. I was coming through the woods to the hotel to get a tow up, -for I was out of gasolene, when I saw the lake. It was early and I -thought I would take a swim. Maybe you saw my car by the side of the -road?" - -"I didn't see no car," said Mike. - -"Did you come by the road?" - -"Yes, a narrow wood road." - -"Yes, yes; that's where I left it. The damned thief has probably gone -off with my car, too." - -"Then he couldn't be a tramp," said James judiciously. "Tramps don't -know nothing about motor-cars." - -"Maybe he took it up to the hotel," said Mike, cheerfully helpful. - -The stranger shook his head. "No, he wouldn't do that. He would get -out of the country as fast as he could." - -"If there wasn't no gasolene," suggested James tentatively. - -"He could easily get some from the hotel. It was early when he stole my -clothes." And James realized with relief that the youth before him was, -in his own eyes, always right, and advice wholly superfluous. - -"I saw a big red car," said Mike, "down the road a bit, over the other -side of the village, going south. But maybe your car wasn't red." - -"Yes, yes, it was," cried the stranger. "What was the make? Could you -tell?" - -"A Thomas car--" - -"Ah, my car. Get me something to put on and I'll make it worth your -while. I'm William Hargrave Batchelor. Maybe you have read about me in -yesterday's papers?" And the poor, shivering, naked wretch drew himself -up proudly and smiled with much complacency. - -"I," said Mike, tapping himself on his breast, "am George V., of -England." - -"No, no," protested the stranger. "I'm not fooling. Get me, some -clothes and come with me to the nearest telegraph office and I'll show -you." - -"How much," asked Mike, "will you give me?" - -"Us," corrected James. - -"How much do you want?" - -"How much will you give?" - -"Ten dollars." - -"For a suit of clothes?" Mike's fat red face depicted his horror. - -"Twenty," cried the stranger. - -"Apiece?" asked James. - -"Apiece," declared the unhappy youth. - -"Apiece, James," said Mike, turning inquiringly to his companion. - -"Make it thirty," said James, "and we may be able to help you." - -"All right, thirty apiece. Get me the clothes." - -"You might write us each a check," suggested James, and drew forth the -pen and check-book. - -"For innocence," groaned Mike, "commend me to me loving comrade, James." - -The stranger's eyes glittered as he recognized his book and pen. He -glanced from one ragged specimen before him to the other, from James' -crafty face to Mike's sly visage, but he said nothing, merely took the -pen and book. - -"Your names?" he asked, opening the book and resting it against a tree -for support. - -"Better put 'to bearer,'" said James. "Simplicity is always the best." - -The stranger wrote the checks, signed them and turned to the two -watching him. "Bring me the suit," he said quietly, "and these are -yours." - -Mike shuffled off into the trees and James and the stranger waited in -silence for his return. He came back presently and threw the suit at -the stranger's feet. - -"You'll notice," said he, "that this nobby spring suit in our latest -style is cheap at the price. Fancy, a thing like that for only sixty -dollars!" - -"I see," said the stranger. - -"Payable in advance," said James. - -The stranger handed them each a check and thoughtfully drew on the -shabby clothes of the Watermelon. It had not been long since he had -worn rags of a necessity, and he hitched them up with the skill bred of -familiarity. He thrust the pen and book into a pocket he had first made -sure was holeless. Then he turned to the two and his eyes gleamed. - -"How much for the car?" he asked. - -Mike raised his hands to Heaven. "The car? James, does he think we -stole his car?" - -"A stock-broker," said James, "would suspect his own mother." - -"If you want youse car," said Mike, "go to the hotel." - -"Bah," snapped the stranger. "Do you think I was weaned yesterday? Be -quick and tell me your price." - -"I have no price," said Mike proudly, not sure where the car was. - -They started through the woods to the village, the stranger leading and -Mike and James following. At the edge of the village, they paused -instinctively and without a word. - -"Tell me where the car is and who your accomplice is," said the stranger -in the short sharp tones of one born to command, "and you two can go -free. If you don't tell, I'll do my best to have you arrested and sent -up for grand larceny. Understand?" - -"Oh, yes," said Mike, "I understand. When I was young I learned -English, foolishly, as I haven't used it since." - -"We don't know where your damn car is," declared James. "And we didn't -steal your blooming outfit. What do you take us for, anyway?" - -"Very well, then," snapped the stranger. "I see that you won't tell. -Remember, I gave you your chance." - -He turned and hurried down the village street. The two watched him as -he stopped a pedestrian and apparently asked to be directed to the -justice of the peace, then they slipped away in the woods and quietly, -simultaneously, turned north, falling into a gentle lope that took them -far with the minimum of effort. - -"I hope the kid ain't pinched," said James, after a while. - -Mike sighed and shook his head. "Grand larceny," he murmured. "That's -gratitude for you." - - - - - *CHAPTER IX* - - *ON THE ROAD* - - -The general never went anywhere without a well-stocked library, -guide-books, instruction books, maps. All were consulted long and -often, and with a childlike faith that Henrietta's sarcasm and the -sign-posts had not been able to shake. - -If the guide-book read, "White rock on left," the general stopped the -car if the rock were not immediately seen where it should be according -to the book and refused to go farther until it had been discovered. If -the rock could not be located, the general ran back a little way or -ahead a little way and if the white rock still refused to be seen on the -left, the general did not see what right any one had to remove valuable -landmarks. Henrietta's tentative endeavor to point out the possibility -that the book was mistaken, doubtless unintentionally, but still -mistaken, was simply waved aside as one more indication of woman's -inferiority to man. If the book said that there was a hill at such and -such a place and there was in fact no hill there, the book was still -correct. There was something the matter with the landscape. - -Bartlett knew of this unfortunate tendency of the general's and resolved -to get rid of those books and maps and papers. With every mile -indicated and nicely tabulated, every turn and landmark mentioned, it -would be almost impossible to get off the beaten route, and they must -avoid telegraph stations and post-offices as much as possible. The -success of the scheme lay in keeping Batchelor away from all touch and -communication with the city. They must, if possible, get lost, and with -the multitudinous books and maps they would not be able to. Therefore, -they must get rid of the books and maps. - -When they had separated to prepare for the trip, Bartlett returned -hastily to the garage. No one was in sight except a strange chauffeur -lounging in the doorway. Bartlett collected all the literature from the -general's car and hastened back to the hotel. Surreptitiously, he -entered an empty room near the one assigned to him and when he emerged -again, his arms were burdenless and he was smiling gently. - -They waited for the Watermelon on the porch, intending to have an early -supper and start while it was still light. Bartlett greeted the -returning youth with relief and lead the way to the dining-room. He -mentioned a small village some thirty miles to the north, where they -could find accommodations for the night in an old farm-house. - -"Friends of mine," said he. "I go there every fall." - -The general rose to get his blue book. "We will look it up," said he. - -Bartlett stopped him. The town was not in the book. He knew, for he -had tried to find it. - -"The maps will do," said the general, who liked to locate every town -visually on the maps or in the books before he undertook to motor there. - -Desperate, Bartlett declared that it was not on the maps. But the -general would not be daunted. They could put it on the maps themselves -if they knew in which county it was, near what post-office-- - -"We don't want to locate it," said Bartlett, growing stern and cross of -a necessity. - -They found the cars waiting at the steps and a small crowd to see them -off and wile away the time before supper. - -Bartlett said, as he knew the way, he would lead. "We need only two -cars. Mr. Batchelor's car can be left until we return." - -"Three cars might come in handy," protested the general, who objected to -every suggestion not his own, on principle. - -"Why?" asked Bartlett coldly. - -"Mr. Batchelor might become offended at us and want to ride by himself," -suggested Henrietta, laughing. - -"Yes," agreed Billy, who, though young and charming, was sometimes -lacking in that reserve that should have stamped her father's daughter. -"He and dad are fighting each other now on 'Change." - -Henrietta flushed, the Watermelon laughed and the general looked pained -at the thought of any possible lack of congeniality. - -"My dear Billy," said Bartlett, "the third auto would be extremely handy -for you and your tongue, at least." - -Billy glanced miserably from one to the other. "Why, Daddy, you told -me, yesterday--" - -"I have told you many things," said Bartlett, "both yesterday and the -day before." - -He took the general by the arm and gently but firmly thrust him into his -car, getting in himself and taking the wheel. The young folk could ride -in the tonneau and Alphonse follow in the general's car with the -luggage. - -The cars started down the hill in the first sweet flush of evening. -Birds were going to bed with noisy upbraidings. A few cows at the -pasture bars watched them pass with great, stupid, placid eyes, jaws -going slowly, rhythmically, as they waited for the milking time. Now -they flashed from the shadows of the woods to the open country, pastures -and rolling grain fields on each hand. Now they plunged among the trees -again with the drowsy twitter of birds and the clear babbling of a brook -somewhere off among the ferns and brambles. - -The Watermelon leaned back in the deep soft cushions of the big car and -smiled a smile of calm and peace and comfort. The car ran smoothly, -noiselessly, little breezes laden with the sweetness of the approaching -night wandered by, on each side of him was a pretty girl. Tramping -idealized! It was living idealized. And that morning, hungry, shabby, -unshaved, he had been content to lie in the sweet lush grasses of a -chance meadow, under a butternut tree, with the convivial James and the -corpulent Mike! He crossed one well-pressed, silken leg over the other -and saw by the wayside, lounging in the shadows, waiting for the car to -pass, the two, James and Mike--Mike, fat, red-faced, dirty, his frowsy -hat pulled aslant over his small, bleary eyes, shoulders humped from -long habit in cold weather, toes coming out of his boot ends; James, -clean shaven, but otherwise no better dressed, no cleaner, both chewing -tobacco with the thoughtful rumination of the cows watching over the -pasture bars at the end of the wooded lane. - -Over the trees, the sun was dropping from sight. Clearly and sweetly on -the quiet air of the eventide, the church bells began to toll from the -village below them in the valley. - -Billy nudged the Watermelon to call his attention to the two weary -figures by the wayside. - -"Poor fellows," said Henrietta softly, lest they hear her. - -The Watermelon glanced at them in lofty disgust and catching James' eye, -his own flickered the fraction of an inch and he raised his hands -languidly to adjust the brown silk tie at his throat. When they had -passed, he turned and waved a graceful farewell. He explained to Billy -as they swept on into the deepening dusk. - -"You might as well encourage the poor fellows. They probably want to -ride as well as I." And Henrietta fancied that possibly his father had -looked thus on a Sunday, in the pulpit of a country church. - -"Yes," agreed Billy. "They may be perfectly dandy fellows." - -"Assuredly," laughed Henrietta. "The stout one fairly radiated truth -and nobility, a manly, upright youth." - -"I don't care," declared Billy warmly. "You can't always tell from -appearances. You ought to know that, Henrietta. Clothes don't make the -man." - -"Nor his manners," laughingly retorted Henrietta. - -"Sure," said the Watermelon. "Father used to say that manners didn't -count any more than the good apples on the top of the box to hide the -rotten ones beneath." - -"I think your father was a cynic," said Henrietta sharply, into whose -ears Billy had been recounting the sayings of the absent divine. - -"Yes," admitted the Watermelon, "he was." - -"Cynicism is a sign of failure," quoted Henrietta. "Surely your father -wasn't a cynic." - -"Yes, he was," declared the Watermelon, "and you didn't make that up -yourself. You heard some failure say it. Father used to say, and he's -right, that if a man reached forty without becoming a cynic, he was a -fool and might better never have reached forty. A success can be a -cynic, for cynicism is simply a pretty good idea of the meanness of -human nature and no unfounded expectation of anything especially decent -coming from it, isn't that so? Father used to say that love was divine, -hate devilish and meanness just cussed human nature, and a mixture of -the three in more or less degree made man." - -"Your father was a philosopher," laughed Henrietta. "I would like to -have met him." - -"I thought the papers said--" began Billy, in her slow, anxious way to -get things right. - -"Yes, they did," interrupted the Watermelon, "and they were right." - -It was quite dark now. Bartlett stopped a moment while Alphonse lit the -lamps, and then they went on and on, faster and faster, into the summer -night. Once in a while they passed a lighted farm-house and a dog -rushed out and barked at them. Twice they whirled through small -villages and the villagers, going home from church, paused to watch them -pass and be swallowed up in the dark ahead. The air was full of -fireflies. A whippoorwill called plaintively from the bushes, and low -in the west were flashes of heat lightning, with now and then an ominous -rumble of distant thunder. Silence had settled on all, even Billy mused -in her corner, half asleep. - -The general had been worried for some time. They were apparently getting -nowhere. He felt that he should have consulted the blue book. He was -about to suggest that they stop and get the book from the rear car, when -Bartlett waved toward the dark bulk of a house looming out of the night, -some little way ahead. - -"That's the place," said he. "We can spend the night there and get one -of the best chicken breakfasts I ever ate." - -The general looked at the place and rallied his sinking spirits. It -appeared dark and he should say it was deserted, but Bartlett doubtless -knew what he was talking about. The people probably lived in the -kitchen. He was hungry and tired and the thought of hot sausages, bread -and jam and milk and then a soft cool bed was nearly as good as the -reality. He turned gaily to the quiet three in the tonneau. - -"Wake up and hear the birds sing." - -Bartlett glanced back and laughed. "Asleep, eh? We're there," he -added, turning the car neatly into the open driveway. "Guess you won't -refuse a good supper very strenuously." - -The drive was rough and they rolled slowly tip to a great dark house, -standing on a slight rise of ground, a typical New England farmhouse, -square and gaunt and unadorned, with a small front stoop and a long side -porch. From the trees behind the house, came the dismal cry of a hoot -owl, as the cars came to a rest, and an answering cry from the grove -across the road. - -"Ghosts," whispered the general. - -"Oh, hush," pleaded Billy. "There is no need of fooling with things -like that." - -"This house ain't lived in," said the Watermelon, as he slipped from the -car to straighten his cramped legs. - -"Folks gone to bed," explained Bartlett cheerfully, since he was not the -one who had gone to bed. "We will just have to rout them out." - -He shut off the power and alighted from the car, pulling off his gloves. -Alphonse came up in the other car and peered out at the dark, quiet, -lonely house and shook his head with forebodings. - -"There isn't any one here," insisted the Watermelon, "asleep or awake." - -The general climbed out. "If we had consulted the book--" - -"My dear sir," interrupted Bartlett, a bit irritated, "the book could -not possibly have told us that the family had moved since last fall when -I spent two weeks here, hunting." - -"Certainly not," laughed Henrietta, who spent a good part of her life -steering with infinite care and constantly growing skill between the -Scylla of her father's wrath and the Charybdis of the hurt feelings of -those whom the general had offended. "This is simply one of the -unforeseen misfortunes of the road." - -"Besides," said Bartlett, "we don't know that the Higginses have gone!" - -"Don't you see that there aren't any signs of life?" demanded the -Watermelon. He had lived by his wits so long that he noticed -instinctively the little things which mean so much and are generally -overlooked. "If there was any one here some window would be open on a -night like this, wouldn't it?" - - - - - *CHAPTER X* - - *THE DESERTED HOUSE* - - -"Wonderful, wonderful!" murmured Henrietta in the tones of the famous -Watson. - -Bartlett looked at the house and nodded gloomily. "I guess you are -right. Funny they should have left without writing me about it. I have -known them for years." - -"I will get the blue book," said the general, with the calm satisfaction -of one who at last comes into his own. "We can return to the nearest -village--" - -"What do we want a blue book to do that for?" sneered Bartlett. "I -should think two motor-cars could do it, provided we followed the road." - -"Hold on a shake," said the Watermelon. "I will get in a window and open -the door." - -"We had better not," objected Henrietta, "Wouldn't that be -house-breaking?" - -The general agreed. "Certainly. It is warm and we can spend the night -outside quite comfortably if you do not want to return to the village." - -Billy shuddered and glanced appealingly at the Watermelon. A deserted -house was bad enough, but outside where the owls called dismally from -the woods and where bats flitted by in the dark held possibilities -infinitely worse. - -"I have known these people longer than I have Billy," said Bartlett. "I -used to come here when I was a kid. It will be all right to break in. -They are like my own folks." - -The Watermelon immediately jumped to the porch, disdaining the few -steps, and disappeared behind the vines which covered one end and -concealed the window. - -Bartlett turned reassuringly to the general. "It will be all right, -Charlie. Don't worry about it. Why, I've always called Mrs. Higgins, -Aunt Sally." - -Visions of hot sausages, bread and milk die hard when one is hungry and -the general snorted. "That's all right. I am hungry enough to break -into the Bank of England if it resulted in something to eat, but what -can we find in an empty house?" - -"Ghosts," said Henrietta. - -Billy pinched her. "If you think there are ghosts in there, Henrietta, -I simply won't go in." - -"Certainly there are ghosts," said Henrietta. "There always are in empty -houses. Where else do you find them?" - -"We will return to the village," declared the general, "and get -something to eat. I will get the book--" - -"An empty house is better than the countryside," said Bartlett. "And we -have plenty to eat in that basket Henrietta put up." - -"If there is something to eat--" wavered the general. - -A light gleamed a moment through the crack of the door and then the door -opened and the Watermelon grinned at them in the light of a small smoky -lamp he held. - -"Where did you get the lamp?" asked the general as the Watermelon led -the way in. - -"Found it," said the Watermelon. "The place is furnished. The family -is probably only away for a visit." He set the lamp on the table and -from long habit wiped his dusty hand on his trouser leg. "I fell over -everything in the room before I got next to the fact." - -He glanced about with some pride and the others stood in a semicircle -and stared around. The room was a typical country kitchen, a huge stove -side by side with a large chintz-covered rocking-chair. A dresser for -the crockery and a haircloth lounge took up one side. There was a -center-table with a red checked cloth, a few chairs and a sewing-machine -near the window. On the walls were a number of cheap prints and several -huge advertising calendars With gay pictures of young women in large -hats and low-cut dresses. - -Bartlett glanced around and at every unfamiliar object his heart sank -lower and lower and his first sickening suspicion became a painful fact. -He had never been in that room before. The Higginses had never lived -there. Everything was strange, the furniture, the rugs, the very shape -of the room. Where were they? Whose house had they unceremoniously -broken into? A clammy chill crept down Bartlett's back and his florid -face grew still redder. - -None of the others was noticing him. The general was prowling around to -see that the enemy could not come upon them unawares. The Watermelon had -lifted the basket on to the table and the girls were preparing gaily to -set forth the repast, all three rummaging in closets and drawers for -plates and knives and forks. - -The general returned to the table. "All serene along the Potomac," said -he, thrusting his hands into his pockets and peering into the basket -with renewed hope. Henrietta smiled gaily. She had pushed aside her -auto veil, her cheeks were flushed with the joy of the adventure and her -eyes bright. - -"Father," said she, "in all our lives, we have never had an adventure -before, because you persist in using those blue books." - -The general laughed and helped himself to a sandwich. - -Billy opened the dresser and peered gingerly in, her small nose wrinkled -for any unforeseen emergency. She had taken off her hat, and her soft -yellow hair, bound back by a black velvet snood, escaped around her -temples in tiny waves. Her eyes, thought the Watermelon, were brighter -than the lamp upon the table and her laughing, kissable mouth redder -than the crimson lips of the fair creatures in the gay calendars on the -wall. Her hand upon the latch of the door was so near his own, that he -was tempted to put his on it, but instead slipped his into his pocket -with a delicacy he did not recognize in himself. She was a girl, young -and sweet and attractive, and because she was attractive, she had been -flung into the maw of the Street, a victim of the age's insane desire -for money and more money. Each dainty curl, each flash and disappearance -of her single dimple had been reckoned as so much in dollars and cents. -So the Watermelon put his hand in his pocket and only watched her with -poorly veiled admiration. - -"Do you know what I am looking for?" she asked, glancing at him, her -eyes full of mischief. - -"For the family silver," said the Watermelon. "We might as well take -some souvenir of our visit." - -"I don't believe the family silver is silver," said she. "I am trying -to find a bucket which you can take to the well and fill for tea. It -will give you an appetite." - -"We will let Alphonse go for the water," said the Watermelon, turning -over the articles on the dusty, crowded shelves. "The general sees to -the cars. We will give Alphonse a chance to earn his pay." - -"You should do something to earn yours," said she. - -"What is mine?" he asked, trying to see into her eyes. - -"We must find that bucket," said she, gazing innocently upward at the -higher shelves. "I love to muss around among other people's things. -They are so much more interesting than your own. I wonder why." - -"We can't be amused with ourselves and our things," said the Watermelon. -"We are too important. Father used to say nothing else was really -important but ourselves and what affected us." - -Henrietta, fussing with the alcohol lamp at the table, laughed. "Why -didn't your father write a book," she asked, "a philosophy? It would -have been a deal more interesting than James or Spencer or Decant." - -"He used to say that a man who knew life never wrote about it. It would -be too painful. It wouldn't sell." - -There was a heavy step on the porch and Bartlett turned quickly with -sickening fear. It was Alphonse come from putting the cars away in the -shed beside the barn. Bartlett wiped his brow and swallowed heavily. -This was terrible, this being in another man's house unlawfully. The -utterly hopeless inability to explain satisfactorily took all one's -nerves away. He glanced at the other four, merrily unconscious of his -ghastly discovery, their thoughts filled only with the desire to eat. - -"Billy," said he sharply, "what are you doing in that closet? Come away -at once." - -"I was only trying to find a bucket," stammered Billy. - -"Those things don't belong to you. You have no right there." And -Bartlett sternly and promptly shut the door. - -Billy drew back hurt. "I don't see why it is so wrong to break into a -man's pantry," said she, "after you have broken into his house. Besides, -Daddy, you have known these people all your life." - -"That's the trouble," said Bartlett desperately, with a rush, "I don't -know these people. I have never been here before." He glared defiantly -at the general, daring him to suggest the blue book. - -For a moment no one spoke. Alphonse at the door, hat in hand, the -general by the table, another prematurely acquired sandwich in his hand -half way to his mouth, Henrietta, busy with the flame of the tiny -alcohol lamp, Billy before him, the Watermelon on the edge of the -dresser where he had seated himself, all stared in dull surprise. The -Watermelon broke the silence. - -"Better to break into another man's house than have him break into -yours," said he. He glanced at Bartlett with just the flicker of -amusement in his mild gray eyes, thinking that Bartlett had got lost -already, deliberately, with the intention of spending the greater part -of the following day finding themselves, and so successfully passing one -day of the seven. Bartlett glanced at the young man and flushed. It -seemed to him for one fleeting moment that the youth with the sleepy -eyes knew a bit more than Bartlett cared to have him know, cared to have -any one know, that he even seemed to suspect him of having got lost on -purpose. Then the sleepy eyes turned again to Billy and the older man -told himself that he was mistaken. He was growing nervous and reading -his own intentions in every one's eyes. He strove to regain the mastery -of his nerves by airy indifference. - -"A slight mistake," said he. - -"Ah, yes," said Henrietta, "as when you go off with another man's -umbrella." - -She turned down the flame, which threatened a conflagration, and put the -cap on, extinguishing the lamp. One did not take tea in another's house -when one had entered by mistake and through the window. One merely got -out again, quietly and with no unavoidable delay. - -The general, with rare nerve, took a bite from the sandwich and laid it -on the table. He drew his handkerchief and wiped his hands. "I will -get the blue book," he began busily, his mouth still rather full. - -"We don't need the blue book to tell us to get out," said Henrietta, a -bit tartly. She looked at the dainty pile of sandwiches, the cold -chicken, cakes and olives on the table with the wooden plates and gay -paper napkins she had arranged for the coming feast and hesitated. She -wished some one was courageous enough to suggest that they eat before -they leave. - -"Certainly not," said the general. "But if we had consulted them before -we left--" - -"Sort of in the fashion of an oracle," sneered Henrietta as she began -slowly to gather up the napkins and the wooden plates. - -"Tell me," said Bartlett calmly, impersonally, not as one desiring an -argument, but simply as a humble seeker after knowledge, with no prior -views on the subject, "tell me, can you never make a mistake if you have -a blue book?" - -"No," said Henrietta, "never. With the blue book one could go directly -to Heaven. It would be impossible not to." - -Billy laughed. - -"Billy would laugh at her funeral," said Bartlett coldly. - -"We haven't anything to cry about," said the Watermelon, frankly -unconcerned. "It's for the man who owns the house to do the crying." - -"How did we get here?" demanded the general, as Alphonse went to get the -blue book, for the general could no longer be gainsaid in his desire for -his book. "Is this where the Higgins' home should be?" - -"Why, no, father," said Henrietta, "or it would be here." - -"I meant, Henrietta, did we come the right way? If we took every turn -and have come far enough and not too far, this should be the Higgins' -house." - -"It should be," admitted Bartlett. "But it isn't." - -Through the open door came the many noises of the summer night, the -incessant hum of insects, the plaintive cry of the whippoorwill, the -strident chorus of the frogs in the pond back of the bam. A moth, -fluttering around the dingy lamp, fell on the table with scorched wings -and Billy tenderly pushed it on a plate and carried it to the door. - -"Why not eat here?" suggested the Watermelon, unimpressed by the aspect -of the affair as it struck the others. "We can hunt for the Higginses -afterward. They ought to be around somewhere unless we're helplessly -lost." - -Henrietta smiled and took out the napkins she had laid back in the -basket. "It won't take us long," she agreed. "We don't need to have -any tea." - -"No," protested Bartlett, glancing at the door and listening for the -crunch of wheels on the gravel without, "no, we must leave at once. We -aren't lost. The Higginses' is probably the next house." - -"Suppose it isn't," said Billy. - -"Just so," said the general. "We will return to the village and put up -at the hotel. It isn't late." - -"It's half-past eleven," said Henrietta, glancing at her watch. - -Alphonse returned, blasé, indifferent. "There are no books," said he, -devoid of all interest in the affair. - -"No books?" cried the general. "Alphonse, what has become of them? Did -you take them out of the car before we left?" - -"No," said Alphonse, and violent, positive protestations could not have -been more convincing. - -"But where are they? I left them in the car." - -"They probably fell out, father," said Henrietta. - -"They have never fallen out before," snorted the general, with base -suspicions against Henrietta. - -"We can get another to-morrow," said Henrietta. "We will simply return -to the hotel in the village for the night." And once more she replaced -the napkins in the basket. - -"Yes," agreed Bartlett. "There is a good hotel near the railroad -tracks." - -"Where are the railroad tracks?" asked the general, who had lost all -faith in Bartlett's knowledge of the country. "We passed no railroad -tracks." - -"Just before you come to the village," retorted Bartlett, irritated as a -badgered animal. "You have to cross them as you come up the main -street." - -"We crossed none," said the general, with the indifference of one who -realizes that there is no more to hope for. The boat is sinking, let it -sink. The last cent gone and the landlord coming for two months' rent. -Let him come. - -"No," said Billy gently, "we didn't, father." - -"Why, we did, we must have," protested Bartlett. "I always come here on -the railroad train. They have to flag it, but it stops. Why, I know -there are tracks there." - -The general did not attempt to argue. "We are lost," said he, and one -knew that the unfortunate event was entirely due to the scorn of others -for the blue book. - -"No," said Henrietta kindly, "there were no tracks. I remember saying -to Billy I was glad there was one town not spoiled by the garish -contamination of the world. Didn't I, Billy?" - -"Yes, she did," admitted Billy, looking pityingly at her father. - -"If we didn't pass through Wayne, we are lost and the Higgins' home is -probably miles from here and there is no use looking for it," said -Bartlett, and smiled--grimly, the general thought; happily, the -Watermelon thought. It would be rare luck to be lost thus early. - -They were all gathered around the table, except the Watermelon and -Alphonse. Alphonse still stood by the door, hat in hand. He was merely -a paid hireling. His master's affairs were none of his. The Watermelon -still sat on the dresser and swung his feet. The predicament was only -one of the many he was more or less always involved in and not worth -thinking about. Batchelor and the police did not worry him that night. -It was too early. - -"Why not eat something before we go?" he said. "We have been here about -an hour now, and another hour won't make our crime any the worse." - -"Yes," agreed Henrietta promptly, surprised at her own depravity. -"Let's," and again she took out the plates and napkins. - -"Suppose they come back," softly whispered Billy. - -Instinctively they all glanced at the door, and Henrietta paused with -her hands on the edge of the basket. - -The Watermelon laughed. "You ain't worrying because you broke into -another's house," said he. "What's fretting you is that you may be -found out." - -"It's awful," acknowledged Billy. "I feel funny in my stomach and have -creeps up my back." - -"So have I," said Henrietta, and nodded grimly. - -"Do what you please," said Bartlett. "But don't get caught." - -"They won't come," said the Watermelon. "They have been gone for quite a -time and aren't coming back." - -"Ah, my dear Holmes," said Henrietta, "explain your deductions." - -"They've been gone long because there is so much dust on everything and -the house smells so close. They won't be back to-night because none of -the neighbors have been in to leave anything for them to eat and there -aren't any chickens in the chicken-house. Alphonse would have stirred -'em up if they had been there." - -"Suppose some one passes and sees the light," suggested the general, -tempted to the breaking point by the dainty supper so near at hand and -the thought of the terrible apology of a meal they would get at the -dilapidated hotel they had passed in the village. And above all things, -the general loved his meals. - -"We are at the back of the house and it is almost twelve. Every one is -in bed and those who aren't are drunk and wouldn't be believed anyway." - -"It's five miles to the village," added Bartlett with no apparent -relevance. - -"Aw, be game," encouraged the Watermelon. "Be sports." - -"Just being hungry is enough for me," declared Henrietta, taking the -last of the edibles from the basket. - - - - - *CHAPTER XI* - - *A NIGHT'S LODGING* - - -The general hesitated. It was not lawful, not right. They had broken -into another man's house and should leave at once. But all his life he -had lived by rules and regulations, followed life's blue book as -persistently and as well as he did the auto blue book. Now he was lost, -the blue book was gone and there was an indefinable pleasure in letting -go the rules and regulations that had governed him so long. In the warm -June night, with the youthful, foolish Billy, and the irresponsible -Watermelon, the general's latent criminal tendency came uppermost, that -tendency in all of us once in a while to do wrong for the sake of the -adventure in it, for the excitement and fascination, rather than for any -material gain. In the experience of being in another man's house unknown -and uninvited by the owner, of listening for the rattle of a wagon -turning in at the gate, for the crunch of a foot on the gravel without, -there was an exhilaration he had not known for years. He felt that a -bold lawlessness which he had never had and had always felt rather -proudly was only kept under by the veneer of civilization, was rising in -him and that he was growing young again. He had always believed that if -the occasion arose, he could out-Raffle Raffles. - -"It will not do any harm," he thought with the remains of his old -conscience. "We will go directly after supper." - -It was a jovial meal. The conversation waxed merrier and merrier. The -general grew younger with every mouthful and Bartlett more and more -genial. He forgot that he was kidnapping a famous young financier, and -told all his most enjoyable stories with the skill of many repetitions. -When they had finished, no one for a while made any motion to clear up -the table preparatory to leaving. Billy, with her chin on her hand, -thoughtfully gathered up the crumbs still on her plate and transferred -them to her mouth. Henrietta leaned back in her chair, her hands -clasped behind her head, gazing dreamily at the flickering lamp. -Bartlett and the general smoked in contented silence and the Watermelon -rolled a cigarette with his long, thin fingers, his old clay pipe -discarded with his rags. Alphonse was already asleep. A snore from his -corner drew their attention. - -The Watermelon licked his cigarette paper and glanced at Billy. "He's -got his nerve," said he, putting the cigarette in his mouth and reaching -for a match. - -"I don't think that any of us have been lacking in nerve to-night," said -the general, with no little pride. - -"You're dead game sports," admitted the Watermelon. "Let's stay all -night." - -"It's morning already," said Henrietta. "We have stayed all night." - -"Let's sleep here," said the Watermelon. "We can leave early." - -"Er--er--are there any beds?" asked the general. - -"Father, father," cried Henrietta, "you are backsliding." - -The general protested, immensely flattered. - -"Father used to say if you didn't backslide once in a while, goodness -wouldn't be goodness but a habit," said the Watermelon. - -The general always looked back on that night and the week that followed -with wonder, thankfulness and pride. When the Watermelon, waiting for -no further consent, picked up the lamp and started to investigate the -bedrooms, the general was the first to follow him. - -They found two bedrooms on the ground floor, and though the beds only -had mattresses and pillows on them, even the Watermelon did not suggest -a search for sheets and pillow-cases. The girls took one room, the men -the other. Alphonse was aroused enough to be dragged to the haircloth -sofa in the kitchen, from which he kept falling during the course of the -night with dull thuds that woke no one but himself. - -The Watermelon was having the time of his young life. Abstract problems -of right and wrong did not trouble him. He took each event as it came -and never fretted about it when it was over or worried about the next to -come. Last night in the open with the fat Mike and the languid James, -all dirty, all tired, all tramps, he had slept as peacefully and had -fallen asleep as quickly, as he did that night in a comfortable bed with -an austere member of the New York Stock Exchange as bedfellow and a -retired general of the United States army on the couch at the foot. The -whole adventure was diverting, amusing, nothing more. He took each day -as it came and let the morrow take care of itself. Batchelor would -probably try to make trouble, but if Bartlett were as successful as he -hoped to be, and kept on getting lost, there was little danger from that -source. Bartlett, desiring secrecy as much as the Watermelon, had -effectually silenced the enterprising reporter at the hotel. - -It was early when Bartlett awoke. The birds were singing riotously in -the vines over the porch and the sun streamed through the cracks in the -shabby window shade. He yawned and stretched, glancing with amusement -at the general, still raising melodious sounds of slumber from the couch -at the foot of the bed. Then suddenly he became aware that the place at -his side was empty, that the Watermelon was gone. He crawled stealthily -out of bed and dressed, filled with misgivings. - -Batchelor had consented so readily the day before to come with them that -now, when he had had time to think it over, he might have regretted his -decision and be already on the way to the railroad, somewhere. His had -been the master mind to conceive the check and ruination of the cotton -scheme, and surely he would see the folly in what he had done the day -before, when lured on by the pretty, bewitching Billy. He would realize -now in the clear light of day that he must return to the city or get -word to his brokers somehow. He might even then be in a telegraph -office, sending a despatch of far-reaching importance. - -Bartlett dressed with feverish haste and hurried out to the side porch. -The Watermelon was there, sitting in the sun, his feet hanging over the -edge of the porch, talking carelessly with the immobile Alphonse. Both -were smoking and both had apparently been up for some time. Had -Batchelor been to the village and telegraphed already? He would have -had time to go and return if he had used one of the cars. - -The Watermelon looked up. "Hello," said he. - -"Hello," said Bartlett. "Been up long?" - -"Not so long," said the Watermelon. - -"Are the cars all right?" asked Bartlett. - -"I haven't been to see," returned the Watermelon, rolling another -cigarette. - -Bartlett drew a sigh of relief and started after Alphonse for the shed -beside the barn. - -The Watermelon had not had time to walk to the village and back, besides -telegraphing. Bartlett paused and glanced over his shoulder. - -"Aren't you coming?" - -"No," said the Watermelon. "I ain't bugs about the gasolene buggies." - -Bartlett walked on, shrewdly guessing that the languid youth was waiting -for Billy. Her charms, it seemed, had not grown any less effective. He -decided that he would not try to get in touch with his broker. He could -trust him to take care of the city end of the business if Batchelor were -to be eliminated until the following Sunday. Batchelor was an ordinary -youth and if Billy's charms were not enough to hold him, finding himself -an equal and on friendly footing with people in what his policeman -father and washerwoman mother reverently called "society," would -probably turn his otherwise level head completely. Bartlett admitted to -himself, as he gazed abstractedly at the shining cars, that the young -man had not appeared visibly impressed either by himself or the general. -But Batchelor was clever and would hide his elation. - -The Watermelon's slow drawl at last aroused him. - -"Cut it," said the Watermelon. "The cops are coming." - -One of New York's leading citizens, bank president and corporation -director, felt a slow, cold, clammy chill creeping up his spinal column. -His first instinctive desire, like that of the small boy caught robbing -an apple orchard, was to hide. Last night was one of those unfortunate -occurrences it were best to pass over in silence. He turned and glanced -at the house. The place looked deserted in the morning sunshine. The -blinds were drawn, the doors shut. The general and the girls apparently -still slept, and no country variety of New York's "finest" with warrant -and shotgun could be seen approaching. Alphonse looked up from the car -and gazed a moment at the house with the scornful indifference for the -law and its minions of the confirmed joy-rider. - -"I do not see any one," said Bartlett with calm dignity. - -"They are creeping up on us," said the Watermelon cheerfully. "Trust -the rube to do the thing up in style. Three men came along. They -stopped down by the gate and talked, pointing up here, then one ran on -to the village to get help, I suppose, and the other two are waiting -down there." - -"I will go and explain that it was a mistake," said Bartlett. - -"Now, don't do that," adjured the Watermelon. It was just possible that -the police had already picked up his trail and he preferred the chance -of escaping in a car to stealing away by himself, through the woods, a -tramp again, leaving behind him Billy and a week of fun. "Alphonse can -bring up the cars and we can slip away before the reinforcements come. -See?" - -"I will explain that it was a mistake--" - -"Mistakes," said the Watermelon coldly, "aren't on the cards in school -and the law. Come up to the house and see the others first, anyway." - -"One can afford mistakes as well as any other luxury," said Bartlett. -"Money is all the fellows want." - -"Let's talk it over first with the others, anyway," urged the -Watermelon, feeling that it might be that money was not all they wanted. - -They found the general and the girls in the kitchen putting it in order. - -"Certainly," said the general with the calmness of one immune from the -law. "We will explain." - -"What?" asked Henrietta, as she drew shut the basket lid and slipped in -the catch. - -"Father used to say that if what you've done makes a fight, explanations -will only make another," said the Watermelon. While he had the time he -realized that he should slip away, but there was a chance that the -police, finding their youthful quarry in the society of a general and a -reputable and wealthy citizen of New York, could be impressed with the -belief that they had made a mistake, and the Watermelon was always ready -to take chances. Still, there was no need of running needless risk, and -if he could persuade them all to escape with him in the cars, he would -do it. - -Henrietta nodded. Billy was for an instant flight. "We might as well," -she explained lucidly, eying her father questioningly. - -"Not at all," said Bartlett. "Money is all they want." - -"An explanation," said the general, "will be sufficient. We do not want -any tampering with the law." He picked up his hat and started for the -door as he would sally forth and demand the surrender of a beaten foe. - -"But, father," Henrietta's clear voice made him pause, "what can we -explain?" She pushed back her auto veil and gazed from one to the other -in gentle deprecation. "How we got in? But they wouldn't want us to -explain that. You see, they can surmise that." - -The general came back to the table. A little firmness, tempered with a -lucid explanation in words of one syllable had always been his method in -dealing with the weaker sex. "My dear Henrietta, we can explain why we -are here." - -"Why are we?" asked Henrietta meekly. - -"Why are we?" demanded the general. "Because we took it for the house -of a very old and dear friend." - -"But as soon as we entered, father, we knew our mistake." - -"Henrietta," said the general, "I can not argue with you." - -"No, father," agreed Henrietta. "But when we found out our mistake, why -didn't we leave?" - -"I can not argue with you, Henrietta," repeated the general. - -"Money," said Bartlett, "is all they want. They always fine all -motorists for breaking speed laws. It becomes a sort of habit with -them." - -"This ain't breaking the speed laws," warned the Watermelon. "This is -house-breaking." - -"Sir," demanded the general, "do you accuse me, me, of house-breaking?" - -"The whole damn family," said the Watermelon bruskly. He wanted to slip -away quietly, whether the men at the gate were waiting for him alone or -for all of them, having a tramp's dislike for anything that smacked of a -possibility of falling into the hands of the law. "This is some -different from speed-breaking," he added gloomily. - -"This is preposterous!" cried the general. "That I, _I_, should be -arrested! Why, I refuse to be. No one has a right to arrest me." - -"If you break into another person's house, father--" began Henrietta. - -"But, Henrietta, I am not a house-breaker. I deny the charge." - -"We all are," said Henrietta. "That is all I can see to it." - -"Money--" began Bartlett again, the refrain of his life. He felt he -could not be arrested and haled before a magistrate, even such an humble -one as a country justice of the peace. His whole scheme would be ruined. -Batchelor would probably want to return to the city as soon as he could -bail himself out, and not care to have anything more to do with motor -trips run on similar lines. - -"No," snapped the general, "we will have no graft." - -"Graft," sputtered Bartlett. "Who suggested graft? A wise manipulation -of the financial end of a difficulty will more often save you than not. -There is no graft in paying for a night's lodging." - -"Under the present circumstances, paying for a night's lodging is -graft," declared the general. - -"It's graft, then, or prison," snapped Bartlett. - -"Prison," said the general heroically. - -"Prison is foolish," said Billy, "when one has a motor-car and can get -away." - -"Besides," said Bartlett, "graft is not dishonest for the man who gives -the bribe." - -"It ain't," agreed the Watermelon, "if the man has money enough to give -publicly to some college or institution." - -Henrietta drew on her gloves. "I think you are all cynics," said she. -"Graft is dishonest." - -"Why?" asked Bartlett, turning to her. "Why, Henrietta?" - -"Because," said Henrietta firmly. - -"The only dishonor is playing on another man's weakness, using that for -your own ends. If I know a man has a price, am I dishonest to take -advantage of the knowledge? No, certainly not. The dishonor is in him -who has a price, whose dirty little soul cares so much for money that he -lets his manhood go at so much in dollars and cents, like merchandise." - -"Ah," cried Henrietta with quick sympathy for the tempted. "Poverty is -so terrible and money such a temptation. It doesn't seem to be fighting -fair to take advantage of it." - -"Father used to say that it would take the constitution of an ostrich, -the empty head of a fool and the nerves of a prize-fighter to stand -poverty," said the Watermelon, thinking of those days when there were -eight children and no money. - -"I think," said Billy, as one propounding a wholly original suggestion, -"that we should go at once." - -"If we have done wrong," said the general, "we should suffer for it. We -should not attempt to evade the consequences of our acts." - -There was a heavy step on the porch without. The general turned pale, -Bartlett reached for his pocket-book and Billy leaned weakly against the -knobby end of the haircloth sofa. Only Henrietta and the Watermelon were -quite calm, the latter with the calmness of desperation, the former, of -despair. - - - - - *CHAPTER XII* - - *THE KEY TO THE SITUATION* - - -The Watermelon accepted the inexorable with the tramp's sang-froid; -Henrietta with a sweet dignity, though slightly flushed. The door had -been shut before the conference began and the person on the porch had -not come in sight of the windows. With a slow wink at Henrietta, the -Watermelon strode to the door. Instinctively the general started to lay -his hand on the young man's arm as he passed, to detain him a moment, -but instead picked up his hat from the table and hoped that no one had -seen that involuntary little gesture. The Watermelon threw open the door -with a bit of a flourish and Alphonse, stolid, unsmiling, entered. - -There was an involuntary sigh of relief from all, even the general. - -"Well," asked the Watermelon, "what are the sleuths doing?" - -"Where are the cars, Alphonse?" asked the general sternly, in the -reaction of the suspense of the moment before. - -"I left them at the back door," answered Alphonse, as one who understood -perfectly the whole aspect of the case and realized that sometimes a -quiet exit is more to be desired than great acclaim. "I thought you -would not want them seen from the front." - -"I have no objection to my car being seen by everybody," returned the -general with a wave of his hand, which appeared to include the universe. - -The back door was locked and the key gone, and the Watermelon had -hurried to the door into the sheds and was struggling with the rusty -lock. "This is the way," said he, "through the woodshed. That door's -locked and there ain't a key; family probably left that way. I noticed -the woodshed route this morning." - -"We can shut this door on the side porch and lock it just as we found -it," said Henrietta. - -She shut the door and Alphonse as quietly turned the key. She lowered -the window the Watermelon had opened and, finding that he had broken the -lock in doing it, she slipped a dollar from her purse and left it on the -ledge. It seemed to Henrietta to leave more, to pay for their night's -lodging, would simply be adding insult to injury. One can not take -unpardonable liberties with another's possessions and then pay for it in -the gold of the land. - -"Come," said she. - -The Watermelon had already opened the door and was working on the lock -of the one in the woodshed. Henrietta paused in the house door, the -basket on her arm, and glanced back at the others. "Come on," said she. - -"I will explain," began the general, with a firmness that was fast -weakening. - -"Father," said Henrietta, "you can not explain. Graft is dishonest. The -only thing we can do is to run." - -Billy grabbed up her gloves and obeyed with alacrity. Bartlett and the -general followed in dignified majesty. Alphonse came last and shut each -door as they passed through. With no undue haste, and yet with no -loitering to admire a perfect summer morning, they climbed into the -cars; Alphonse alone in the general's, the other five in Bartlett's, -with Bartlett at the wheel. - -"Shall we rush them?" suggested the Watermelon with happy anticipation. - -Alphonse, like the voice of reason, calm, unemotional, blasé, spoke: -"There is a cow lane back of the barn. It is wide enough for the cars. -It leads into the road farther on. I left the bars down." - -"You're a man, Alphonse," said the Watermelon. - -They glided without further comment through the barnyard into the rocky, -tree-shaded cow lane. The general glanced behind. No one was in sight. -The lane was narrow and rough, last spring's mud having hardened into -humps and ridges from the passing of many feet. The cars ran slowly of -a necessity, and while the engines throbbed, the noise was not loud, and -the slight hill on which the house stood deadened the sound and -concealed the cars from any one in front. - -Henrietta leaned toward the Watermelon, who sat on the small seat just -in front of her and just behind the general. "On such an occasion as -this," she asked, "what did 'father' used to say?" - -"Nothing," said the Watermelon. "There were two times when he never -said anything, one was when he was asleep and the other was when he was -escaping from the police." - -"Oh," cried Billy, "he was a minister, why should he have had to escape -from the police?" - -"He left the ministry," explained the Watermelon. - -"What did he say when he left it?" teased Henrietta. - -"Good-by," said the Watermelon. - -Then the cars turned into the road and two men stepped from the bushes -on either side. They were tall, raw-boned country men, in flapping straw -hats and blue jeans. Each carried a shotgun in the crook of his arm -with a tender pleasure in the feel of it, each chewed a big piece of -tobacco and each was apparently more than enjoying the situation. The -Watermelon, leaning forward, with wary eyes, was pleased to see a look -of surprise flit across their square-jawed, sun-tanned faces as they saw -the second car slowly following the first, and four men instead of one, -as the telegram had said "one man in a big red touring car," the make -and engine number given. - -For a moment the general could think of nothing to say. If he had been -permitted to sally forth from the front door, he could have explained -clearly, emphatically, with all his old-time belief that being himself -no one could possibly doubt him or his good intentions. But now, caught -thus, acknowledging his guilt by his surreptitious leave-taking, he did -not know what to say, where to begin. Bartlett reached for his -pocket-book. - -"What's the make of your car?" demanded the taller of the two of -Bartlett, laying his hand on the fender. - -[Illustration: "What's the make of your car?"] - -Surprised, Bartlett told, thankful that he had not been asked for his -name. - -"Engine number?" demanded the man. - -Bartlett gave it. - -"License number?" - -"Great Scott!" snapped Bartlett. "What do you want next? My age? My -number is on the back of my car. I have so many cars I have forgotten -it. Go and look, or ask my man. Alphonse, what's the number on the -back?" - -"97411," droned Alphonse coldly. - -"Be both these cars yours?" asked the man, puzzled and a bit -disappointed. - -"That car," said the general pompously, "is mine. Allow me." He drew -his card-case from his pocket, and to the tall man's consternation and -Bartlett's horror, presented him with his card. The two withdrew and -consulted a moment. Clearly the family party before them was not the -young man wanted in Wilton for stealing a motor-car and a suit of -clothes, but for all that, what were they doing in an empty house? - -"We can arrest 'em and get a fine anyway," said the taller of the two, -and the other agreed. - -The Watermelon leaned forward with languid interest, his hat on the back -of his head. "How d'ye do?" he drawled. "What are you doing with the -popguns?" - -"Hunting," grinned the spokesman pleasantly. - -"Any luck?" asked the Watermelon. - -"Bet cher life!" said the man. "Got what we were after." - -"Bear?" asked the Watermelon innocently. - -"Autos," said the man. - -"Sir," began the general. He felt a pressure on his shoulder so firm, -that, irritated, he turned to remonstrate with Henrietta. One could not -explain the situation with any degree of pride in the first place, still -less so, if some one behind were apparently endeavoring to suppress one. - -The Watermelon frowned. "We weren't breaking any speed limit, unless -the snail is the standard you regulate your speed laws by." The men no -longer believed that they had caught the thief, but if they insisted on -taking the party before a magistrate, each would have to give his name. -With the general present, fictitious names would only be so much waste -of breath, and the Watermelon had no desire to give his assumed name to -any one in the employ of the law. - -"Naw," sneered the man, spitting with gusto. "There're other things to -break besides speed laws." - -"Yes," agreed the Watermelon, "your empty head." - -"Now, don't get sassy," warned the man, growing angry. "I'm an officer -of the law and I'm not going to take any of your sass." - -"An officer of the law can't arrest a law-abiding citizen," snapped the -Watermelon with righteous indignation. - -"Law-abiding?" jeered the man. - -"What have we done?" - -"Try to guess," suggested the man pleasantly and the other laughed. - -"I can't guess," said the Watermelon. "Is it for riding through the cow -lane? We didn't hurt the lane any. I rode through this same lane last -summer and the Browns didn't kick up any row over it. In fact, they -were with me, that is, Dick and Lizzie were." - -The man stared and the Watermelon frowned coldly. - -"Do you know the Browns?" demanded the fellow. - -"Not very well," admitted the Watermelon. "I was through here last -summer and stopped over night at their place. They were fine people, -all right. They told me if I ever came this way again to drop in and I -said I would. It was a sort of joke. They gave me a latch-key." He -drew a key from his pocket and held it out as proof of his integrity. - -"Huh," said the man dully, gazing from the key to the Watermelon. - -The second man took it. "Which door does it fit?" he asked. - -"The front door," said the Watermelon promptly. "Go try it if you want -proof." - -"Not so fast," said the second man, who had taken the affair into his -own hands. "If you know the Browns, tell me something about them? No, -you chuffer feller, hold on, back there. Don't try to slip by, for you -can't. You automobilists think that the Lord created Heaven and earth -for your benefit and then rested on the seventh day and has been resting -ever since. That's better. Now, then--" turning again to the -Watermelon--"how many in the family?" - -"How many?" queried the Watermelon. "I don't know. I only saw Ma and -Pa and the three kids, Dick and Lizzie and Sarah. Sarah was a young -lady about twenty, if I remember rightly; Lizzie was eight and Dick was -a bit older, ten or twelve--twelve, I think he said. I remember his -birthday came in January, anyway." - -"Well, goldarn it," laughed the first man, thoroughly convinced. "Well, -say, ain't we the easy marks?" - -"Don't blame yourselves," said the Watermelon gently. "Father used to -say that anything colossal, even stupidity, was worthy of admiration." - -"What did Dick look like?" demanded the second man, loath to give up. - -The Watermelon straightened up. "See here, my man," said he sternly, -"we are in a hurry. You have detained us long enough. I have told you -as much as I am going to about the Browns. It's a year ago this summer -that I was there and I haven't been dwelling on their beautiful -countenances in rapt and joyful contemplation ever since. I have seen a -few people during the interval. Dick was fairly good looking, but -Lizzie was the cutest. I took them through the cow lane to show them -how they could go for the cows in a motor-car, farming up-to-date, see. -Now move aside and let us pass, please." - -"No, you don't," returned the man sharply. "Let that chuffer feller in -the back car come up to the house with me while I try this key. Tom, you -keep the others here, till I come back." - -The Watermelon leaned back wearily indifferent and drew out his -cigarette papers. Alphonse climbed obediently from the car, with his -usual imperturbability. Calmly and willingly he scaled the stone wall -and set off across the field with his captor. Tom thoughtfully examined -his gun, one eye on the motor-cars. - -The general's desire to explain was superseded by a still greater desire -to get away. The grim faces of the two men impressed him with the -gravity of the event. If they were to escape, now was the time, when -the forces of the enemy were divided, but there was his car. - -He could not leave that behind and the man in the road was a fairly good -reason for him to remain where he was and make no attempt to reach it. -Batchelor had put up a clever bluff, but it had been called, and they -had to sit there until the return of the other man, when they would be -exposed, for of course the key wouldn't fit. That second man was a -stubborn brute. The Lord had made mules. He didn't intend men to be. - -The general turned irritably and glanced at the Watermelon, lolling -gracefully in his seat and humming a ridiculous little song between airy -puffs of his cigarette. - -Henrietta repressed a wild wish to scream aloud. Never, never again -would she go into another man's house unless expressly asked to do so by -the owner. She glanced behind, up the hill, toward the house. Alphonse -and his captor had just come into sight again and were returning through -the field. Henrietta breathed heavily. This was awful. When the two -reached the stone wall, she hoped she would faint. She knew she -wouldn't, she never fainted. She turned around that she might not see -them. Nothing could be done, apparently, but simply wait for the hand -of the law to fall upon them. The Watermelon had made a good guess as -to the children, it seemed; why hadn't he been content to let it go at -that? Why had he hauled out that useless key? She had ceased to feel, -to think. She looked at Billy. Billy was frozen dumb. This was the -end. Bartlett glanced at the man in the road and tried to figure his -price. - -The Watermelon turned carelessly and spoke to Henrietta. "That was a -pretty bird up there. Did you see it?" - -"Yes," said Henrietta automatically, though she had seen no bird. She -heard the two men now right behind the car and she sank back limply. -All was over. - -"Well?" queried the Watermelon. - -"By gum," admitted the man with the key. "It fits." - - - - - *CHAPTER XIII* - - *ONLY TO BE LOST* - - -Bartlett grinned and removed his hat to wipe his brow. The general -strove not to show a guilty surprise, Billy giggled and Henrietta began -to live again. - -The Watermelon held out his hand. "My key, please. Kindly remove that -piece of artillery from the road and we will go on." - -The man, covered with perspiration and embarrassment, handed back the -key. "When the Browns come back, shall we tell them you called?" - -"Certainly," said the general pompously, and in the exuberance of the -reaction, he drew a half dollar from his pocket and handed it to the -fellow. "Kindly give that to Dick," said he with the benevolence of a -grandfather. - -Billy waved to the crestfallen two and Henrietta gave them a gracious, -forgiving bow. - -"Never again," said she, "shall I do wrong. The possibilities of -discovery are too nerve-racking." - -"Father used to say--" began the Watermelon. - -"I'll bet your mother didn't talk much," laughed Bartlett. - -But the general had passed through an unhappy half hour and had no heart -for jesting. - -"If you knew the Browns, Mr. Batchelor," said he, "it was your duty to -have told us so." - -"Yes," said Henrietta. "I have aged ten years, and at my time of life -that is tragedy." - -"And why," asked Billy, "if you had the key, didn't we go in by the -front door last night?" - -The Watermelon stared from one accusing face to the other in frank -surprise. Even Mike with his fat wits would have grasped the situation. -"I didn't know them," he protested. "When I can go in by a door, I don't -choose the window." - -"But the key," objected Billy. - -"Dick and Lizzie," added Henrietta. - -"Their very ages," climaxed the general. - -"It was only a bluff," said the Watermelon wearily. "I remembered their -names and ages from books I had seen around the room last night and on -the dresser, sort of birthday presents and things, you know. I never -saw one of them." - -The general roared and loved the boy. Henrietta leaned forward and -patted him on the shoulder. "Wonderful, wonderful Holmes!" said she. - -"Did you take the key on purpose?" asked Billy, all athrill with -admiration. - -The Watermelon flushed. He had taken the key if by any chance he should -ever be in that neighborhood again, and the family away, he could spend -the night in a comfortable bed instead of under a hayrick. Besides keys -always came in handy. He didn't look at Billy. Like a sudden flash of -lightning on a dark night, he had seen the difference between them, -between what he had become and what he had been. But it came and was -gone and the old careless indifference rushed back. He laughed and -changed his seat to the one between the two girls. - -"When I locked the front door, I slipped the key out without thinking, I -suppose," said he. "Besides, keys are handy. When you are stony broke, -you can rattle them and make the other fellow think maybe they're the -mon." - -"Now for breakfast," cried the general gaily, never long forgetful of -his meals. - -"Tell me," begged Henrietta, "what would father say?" - -"Grace," said the Watermelon. - -The general, as he informed Henrietta at the first roadhouse they came -to and at which they stopped for breakfast, was full of the old Nick. He -felt that there might be no limit to his daring, he might go as far as -to rob an apple orchard and make no attempt to repay the owner, that -was, if the apples were ripe. Henrietta's own spirits were rising. One -never realized what liberty was until one threw aside -conventionality--not honor, but conventionality, the silly, foolish laws -of senseless ages. Billy as usual laughed at every remark, while the -general, the tramp and the financier grew fairly brilliant beneath the -spur of two pretty women's laughing eyes. - -The Watermelon, in his silk socks, his soft panama and fine linen, was -too much in the habit of taking fate as he found it, without wonder or -protest, to marvel now at his change of fortune or to be disturbed or -embarrassed at the unexpected society in which he found himself. -Between him and Bartlett was only the difference of a few millions, both -lived by their wits, and if one preferred to walk while the other rode, -it was merely a matter of choice--no sign of inferiority between man and -man. - -They stopped that evening at a small town in the north of Vermont, as -far from a railway and telegraph office as Bartlett could bring them. -He had watched Batchelor carefully for signs of restlessness, but the -young man appeared entirely absorbed in the present, with no thought for -anything but the moment and Billy and Henrietta. - -After supper, they loitered a while on the porch. The night was dark -and warm. Across the road and over the fields, the frogs in a distant -pond were croaking, and the air was thick with fireflies. - -"Isn't it dark and still," said Billy, her hands thrust into the pockets -of her linen coat, her feet slightly parted, as a boy would stand, her -small head thrown back. - -The Watermelon watched her covertly from the cigarette he was rolling, -the clear oval of her dainty profile, her slender throat and well-shaped -head with its coronet of braids. - -"Dark as misery," said Henrietta dreamily. - -"In the day, one sees a world," quoted Bartlett, standing beside her -where she leaned, a slender figure, against the post of the porch. "In -the night one sees a universe," and he waved his lighted cigar vaguely -toward the myriads of stars above them. - -"What good does that do," asked the Watermelon, "seeing a universe? -It's miles away and can't help you any." - -"Ah, but it's beautiful," cried Henrietta, who had never had much -experience with misery. "It teaches one to look up, the night-time -does." - -The Watermelon lighted his cigarette in the cup of his hands and tossed -his match away. "If you are trying to walk in the dark," he objected, -"trying to get out of your troubles, say, and not standing still in the -same old place, you can't look up." - -"You have no beauty in your soul," declared Henrietta. "I think the -idea is beautiful, seeing a universe." - -"When you are down and out, you don't take any pleasure in looking at a -universe," said the Watermelon. "A dollar, or even a quarter, will look -a darned sight more beautiful." - -"I wouldn't like to be poor," said Billy. "It must be so terrible to -have no motor-car, for one thing." - -"It is," agreed the Watermelon, who would have agreed to anything Billy -said. "It's simply awful." - -"What did you mind most," asked Billy, "when you were a newsboy?" - -"Let's go look at the universe," suggested the Watermelon hastily. "We -can see it much better down the road a bit." - -Billy consented, and they strolled away in the dark. The general, who -thought he was talking politics, was laying down the law to the hotel -clerk, and Henrietta and Bartlett were left alone. They lingered a -moment on the porch and then quietly disappeared up the road in the -opposite direction from that taken by Billy and the Watermelon. - -Bartlett's desire was to reach Maine as soon as possible and get lost -over Saturday, but to avoid every city and larger town on the way and to -hurry by the smaller places where there might be telegraph or telephone -connections. - -"Out of touch of the world for a week," he was fond of repeating, "no -letters, no papers, no worries and no nerves." - -And his desire was the Watermelon's. The more they avoided towns, the -better the youth liked it. Telegraph and telephone stations were -zealously shunned. He would have liked to have seen a paper, so as to -judge what the police thought in the case of the theft of the wealthy -young stock-broker's car, provided Batchelor had allowed the thing to -become public, which he very much doubted, from the little he knew of -the man's character. It was hardly an episode one would care to see in -print if one was dignified and self-made. And the Watermelon chuckled. - -It took them longer than Bartlett hoped, sticking to narrow, unused -country roads, and the next night found them still in Vermont. They -spent the night at the village boarding-house, and once again Billy and -the Watermelon went down the road a bit to look at the universe, and -Henrietta and Bartlett went up the road. - -The following day, to Bartlett's satisfaction, they got lost. It was -late in the afternoon when they stopped at Milford, a small town in New -Hampshire, and made inquiries about the next town. Was it far and would -the accommodations be good? It wasn't far, the farmer whom they -questioned, assured them, only five miles. He directed them how to go -and they thanked him and pushed on. - -They went on and on and nightfall found them in a lonely bit of wooded -road apparently miles from any town or habitation. Bartlett was -pleased. They were lost, and by great good luck they might remain lost -for a considerable length of time. The general, too, was delighted. -They would make a night of it. It was what he had long wanted to do and -now they would have to. The lunch basket had been filled earlier in the -day at a country store, so there would be enough to eat. The seats of -the autos were soft and one could sleep in the cars or on the ground, as -one preferred. It was warm and the rugs and shawls would be covering -enough. - -They ran the cars out of the road to a convenient clearing. Henrietta -got out the basket, shawls were spread on the ground in the light of the -two cars and they prepared to make the best of things. - -"This is like old times," declared the general genially; "a night on the -march, far out on the prairies, not a thing in sight, not a sound but a -coyote yelping or the cry of a wolf." - -"And Indians," said Henrietta, "hiding back of the nearest hillock, -creeping up on you unawares." - -Billy glanced behind her at the woods and wished they had chosen a more -open place to dine. - -"Yes," agreed the general cheerfully, "or down in some southern swamp, -with the Johnny Rebs stealing through the bushes." - -"Oh, please," begged Billy. "What's the use of telling about things -creeping up on you?" - -And she glanced again at the bit of wood she could see in the light of -the lamps. Far in the west the moon was sinking and here and there a -star twinkled between the rolling clouds. A thunder-head was now and -then revealed distinctly by flashes of distant lightning, and thunder -rumbled ominously in the sultry night. A whippoorwill called steadily -and once a bat on graceful wing flew by in the eery light. - -The general laughed. "That was living in those days, Billy," he said. -"A man was a man and not an office automaton, a dimes saving bank." - - - - - *CHAPTER XIV* - - *BILLY, BILLY EVERYWHERE* - - -Bartlett nodded. He had been watching Henrietta through half-lazy, -half-closed lids, leaning against a fallen log. Somehow out there in the -coolness and sweetness of the summer night, in the open country, with -only the drumming of the insects and the shrill clamor of frogs to break -the silence, nothing seemed to matter, to be worth struggling for. He -felt that he hardly cared what was happening in his absence, back there -in the hot, crowded, dirty city. A few more millions added to the -useless many he already owned, what did it matter? What amount could -buy the night, the peace and sweetness and content? He glanced at the -Watermelon and felt no triumph in the thought that this was Wednesday -and so far not a paper had been received, not a letter sent to spoil his -plans. He wondered lazily that he had gone to the bother of planning -the small, petty intrigue of the small, petty city, like dogs snarling -over a worm-eaten bone. How trivial it all was! - -"You're right, General," said he, watching the play of Henrietta's thin -white hands in the lamp light, as she and Billy arranged the evening -meal. "A man's not a man in the city--nothing but a dirty, -money-grubbing proposition. Dollars and cents, dollars and cents, the -only reason of his being." - -"I know," agreed Henrietta, nodding. "I sometimes wonder why it was so -arranged--the world, you know. Why couldn't love, courage, honor have -been made the medium of exchange, the most vital necessity of life? -Every one has to have money, so every one has to struggle for it. Why -couldn't things have been started differently?" - -"Potatoes, two kisses a peck," suggested the Watermelon. - -"Three," said Bartlett, "if the purchaser is young and pretty. A smile -would be enough, if she were old and wrinkled and unwed." - -"A motor-car would probably necessitate a wedding," said the general. - -"No, no, no," protested Henrietta. "How silly! You don't understand me -at all." - -"I would hate to be a clerk at a bargain sale," said the Watermelon, -pilfering a cracker from the box Billy held. - -"Yes," agreed Bartlett, "think of the microbes--" - -"Microbes?" asked Billy who had not been following the conversation. -"Where?" - -"In kisses, Billy," said the general. "I should think you would have -found it out by this time. Everybody you kiss--" - -"I never kiss anybody," protested Billy, blushing delightfully. - -"Father used to say--" began the Watermelon. - -"Look here," interrupted Bartlett, "that father of yours was a minister, -you say. I vow he could know nothing about this subject." - -"He married more people than you have," said the Watermelon. - -"Yes," said Henrietta kindly, "he must have known all about it. Do tell -us what he said." - -"He used to say that kissing was just the reverse of poker--" - -"Poker," cried Bartlett. "No wonder your father left the ministry." - -"It says in the papers that your father was a policeman," declared the -general. - -"A policeman of souls," said Henrietta softly. - -The general waved the sentiment aside as immaterial. "How could he have -been a policeman and a minister?" - -"I can't say," answered the Watermelon, and turned to help Billy with a -sardine can as the best way out of a tight place. - -"How is kissing the reverse of poker?" asked Henrietta, always amused by -the Reverend Mr. Batchelor's remarks. - -"A pair would beat a royal flush," replied the Watermelon. - -"Surely," persisted the general, "if your father were a minister--" - -The Watermelon looked up from the key of the tin he was laboriously -turning and glanced gently at the general, his woman's eyes amused and -pitying, the expression they always wore for the general. - -"Why, you see that is just what I always fancied. He used to preach and -have a church--but if the papers say he was a cop, he probably was." - -"It's a wise child that knows his own father," said Henrietta. "Come to -supper everybody." - -Bartlett spread the filmy paper napkin on his knees and taking the plate -Henrietta handed him, balanced it on his lap with great nicety. He was -so sure that the Watermelon was William Hargrave Batchelor that it never -occurred to him to doubt it. There were the cards, the monogram on the -automobile and the general to vouch for it. The papers were a bit -wrong. - -Supper over, the general conceived the sudden inspiration of tinkering a -while with the cars. Alphonse stood by to assist and the others -wandered off down the road before turning in for the night. - -Billy and the Watermelon soon drifted away by themselves up a tiny cow -lane, fragrant with sweetbrier. They wandered up it side by side, like -two children, neither saying a thing, content to be together. At the -end of the lane, they leaned for a while on the pasture bars. The -sultriness of the earlier part of the evening had passed. The thunder -was less ominous and only sheet lightning, low on the horizon, was -visible. A breeze, cool and sweet, whispered by. The fireflies danced -in gay little flashes of light among the shadows. - -The two stood side by side, their elbows on the top rail, their hands -before them. They said nothing. There was nothing to say, just the -night and they two, alone, among the sweetbriers and the fireflies. - -Now and then Billy sighed, unconsciously and happily. A great silence -had enwrapped Billy for the last two days, a silence in which she was -content to dream and in which words seemed superfluous and uncalled for. -She wondered that Henrietta could talk so much. What was there to say? -Billy had never been in love. She wondered vaguely if the enfolding -content, the longing for solitude and her own thoughts were forerunners -of approaching death. The good die young, and Billy felt that she was -content to go, to drift away into the eternal peace of the after life. -She was not of an analytical disposition and she only knew that she was -happy, causelessly happy, and did not ask the reason. The Watermelon -stood so closely beside her that once when he turned she could smell the -tobacco on his breath. She wanted to rub her head on his shoulder like -a kitten, and wondered if she were growing weak-minded. - -Without warning the bushes at her side parted and a cow with great -gentle eyes peered out at them, so near that Billy could feel the -breath, warm and sweet, upon her cheek. With a little cry, she shrank -close to the Watermelon. - -He felt her slender body, soft and yielding, nestling against him, smelt -the fragrance of her curly hair, and suddenly a great tide of longing, -of passion, of desire welled up in him and choked him. He wanted to -crush her to him, to cover eyes and hair with kisses, to hold her so -tightly that she would cry for release. All the ungoverned feelings of -the past few years surged over him and threatened to carry both for ever -out of sight of land and decency. But, blindly, not knowing what he -did, he turned from her and picked up a stick to hurl at the cow. She -had turned to him in her fear, and with the honor of his clerical -father, he controlled himself. - -Billy laughed and straightened up, as the cow, grieved and surprised, -backed off in the dark. "I'm not afraid of cows, Willie," said she. -"Don't you know it? She just came so suddenly I was startled." - -"Yes," agreed the Watermelon dully. "So was I. Why did you call me -Willie?" - -"Short for William, and William is your name, goose. Don't you remember -your own name?" crooned Billy, leaning toward him in the dark. - -"Yes, surely," said the Watermelon. "But I hate my name. Call me -Jerry. That's what the boys call me." - -He did not add that his name was Jeroboam Martin. He being the seventh -young Martin to arrive, his distracted parents had turned to the Bible -for help in names as well as in the more vital necessities. - -"Jerry?" laughed Billy questioningly. - -"Yes," said Jeroboam gravely, and added abruptly, "Let's go back." - -They turned and retraced their steps, Billy all athrill with she knew -not what, singing a foolish little song beneath her breath, the -Watermelon staring angrily before him, denying hotly to himself what -would not be denied, that he loved Billy. He loved her, not as he had -loved other women, not as a careless, lazy tramp, taking what offered, -good, bad or worse, with airy indifference, but as the son of his poor -virtuous, mother and of his gentle, reverend father would love and -cherish the one woman. - -But who was he to love like that? The past few years had branded him as -a thing apart from Billy. He tried to think it out, but the blood -pounded in his temples and he could not think, could only know that he -loved her more than he did himself, with a love stronger than the mad -passion and longing for her that throbbed in his pulses like leaping -fire. The knowledge had come so suddenly, he was so unprepared, that he -could not reason it out, could only know that Billy must never dream of -such a thing. A companion of Mike and James, who was he to talk of love -to Billy? God! - -His head moved restlessly as though in pain and his hands, unconsciously -jingling the keys in his trousers pockets, clenched tightly. Billy -swayed against him in the dark and straightened up with a laugh and a -smothered yawn. - -"Oh, law," said she, "I'm tired." - -"So am I," said the Watermelon moodily. "Tired of living." - -"Do you know," said Billy, "I was just thinking that death might not be -so awful, just to close your eyes and drift out into space, on and on -and on." - -"It would be a darned sight better than living," answered the -Watermelon. "Hell would be preferable. I beg your pardon." - -"Aren't you well?" asked Billy anxiously. "As for me, I never really -want to die unless I am feeling perfectly well." - -Henrietta and Bartlett strolled up as they approached the cars, where -they found the general pacing up and down the road, filled with -righteous indignation and anger. - -It seemed Alphonse had long ago taken his rug and pillow and retired to -the edge of the woods and slumber. Left alone the general had lighted a -cigar and was walking slowly back and forth in front of the cars, -waiting for the others to return, when a buggy, with two men in it, -passed, the horse shying a bit and the general offering his assistance -and advice. To his surprise they had not gone by more than three yards, -when they stopped, tied the horse and came back on foot. - -"First," said the general, as the four gathered around him in the light -of the car lamps, "first I thought they were hold-up men. The lamps on -my car had gone out and they did not see it, thought that there was only -one car, so there would not be many to defend it; besides, I was the -only one they had seen, and doubtless they surmised I was alone and they -could have held me up easily." - -"Father," cried Henrietta, "what did you do?" - -"Before I could do anything they asked me the make of my car. I told -them. They said it didn't look like a Packard, and I saw that they were -looking at Will's car and hadn't seen mine, back near the wall and with -the lights out. I pointed to it and said that was my car. They seemed -surprised to see two cars. I told them my name, gave them my card, and -told them I was motoring to Maine with a party of friends and asked them -what they were going to do about it." - -"What did they say?" asked Bartlett, while the Watermelon slowly rolled -a cigarette. - -"Oh, they apologized," admitted the general. "But what I want to know, -and what I don't like at all, is why every one is so curious to know the -make of my car, the engine number and the license number. What business -is it of theirs?" - -The two girls slept in one car, Bartlett and the general in the other. -The Watermelon lay on the grass on Billy's side of the car and sought to -reason the thing out, to plan what to do. Alone in the dark, he did not -sleep, but stared before him, ears attuned to the many sounds of the -summer night. - -In every whir of insects' wings, in every whispering breeze that passed, -he heard Billy's soft sweet voice. He stared up at the stars and -likened them to Billy's eyes, twinkling points of light as far above him -as Billy was, for Billy was Billy, and he was a tramp, a hobo--a Weary -Willie. - - - - - *CHAPTER XV* - - *LOVE IN IDLENESS* - - -One not born a vagabond in heart can never understand a vagabond's love -for the open places, for absolute freedom, to go where he wants, see -what he wants, work when he wants. To a vagabond an office is -intolerable, the accumulation of dollars, grinding another man to gain a -petty advance for oneself, utterly uninspiring, conventionality, the -ceaseless humdrum round of existence as a clerk at ten per, revolting. -Following step by step in the well-worn, beaten path, where no man dares -step aside lest he be jeered at, where none dares fall, lest he be -pushed from the road and another take his place, where all think alike, -look alike, act alike, spending one's days in an office, bent over a -littered, dusty, shabby desk, one's nights at some cheap play-house, -seeking to find an outlet for the battered nerves, for the ceaseless -strain of the day by stupefying the senses with some garish parody of -life, is not living to a vagabond. He is willing to work if the work is -a part of himself, a development of that clamorous ego that must find -peace in the open, in the physical side of existence. If he is born -rich, he will become a traveler, a mountain climber, an aviator; if -poor, a tramp, and the Watermelon was born poor. - -For the last few years his feet had followed his errant will, now here, -now there. He was impervious to hardship while he could wander as he -wished, indifferent to good clothes when the price was eight hours a day -spent in a stuffy office, bent, round-shouldered, hump-backed, over a -column of figures. Beneath good clothes or shabby, there was nothing -but a human body, all more or less alike. So the Watermelon had gone -his careless, contented way, now resting here, now working there, -unworried by rent days falling due, by collars fraying around the edges, -coats getting shabby and shiny at the seams, and then Billy came along, -Billy, young, sweet, conventional, an honored member of convention's -band, walking around and around the same well-beaten path, in the same -small inclosure. If he had elected to be one of the throng, he would -never have met her. Struggling along at ten per, he would have been so -far down the line, plodding painfully on, that Billy would never have -seen him. - -But now he was out and a fence unscalable was between them. If he -climbed the fence again, it would do no good. No vagabond can ever fall -in line and keep step, and there is not room enough in the inclosure for -the man who has dared to climb the fence and drop down the other side. - -Bartlett, like Billy, wondered if he were growing simple-minded. A -desire to confide in Henrietta, to tell her what he was up to, had come -upon him and seemed too strong to be resisted. Last night, up the quiet -country road, alone with Henrietta, he had been forced to suppress the -desire sternly, and now in the garish light of day it was still upon -him. He took a seat beside her on the stone wall where she tried to be -comfortable as she fished olives from a nearly empty bottle, the remains -of last night's supper. - -"I wonder," said he, hovering on the edge of his foolish desire, "if any -one can become a man with nothing to regret." - -"Certainly not," said Henrietta. "There would always be the years." - -"I mean something that he had done himself," explained Bartlett soberly, -a sandwich in one hand, a buttered roll in the other. - -"Don't tell me your troubles," said Henrietta, thinking miserably of the -years it would soon be so hard to deny. "I have enough of my own. -Confession may be good for the soul, but it's the death-blow to your -reputation." - -"Father used to say that if there were public confession instead of -private in the Catholic church, there would be no Catholics," said the -Watermelon, helping Billy to the last of the sardines. - -"Let's have a public confession," cried the artless Billy. "Everybody -tell the worst thing that they ever did in their lives." - -The Watermelon laughed and leaned toward her, a moth flirting with the -candle flame. "Oh, kid; I'll bet the worst you ever did was to swipe -the jam-pot when ma wasn't looking." - -"No," said Billy, "I did an awful thing once." - -"Let's hear it." - -Billy took the olive bottle from Henrietta, speared an olive and passed -the bottle on before she spoke. "Will you confess, if I do?" she asked, -pausing with the olive half way to her mouth. - -"Sure," said the Watermelon. "I robbed an apple orchard once." - -"You're fooling," accused Billy. "I'm not. I'm really serious." - -"So am I," vowed the Watermelon. - -"Billy," said Henrietta, "spare us. I am too young to listen to a tale -of depravity." - -But the lure of the confessional held Billy and she passed Henrietta's -remark without notice. She turned to the Watermelon. "If I tell you -the worst thing I ever did, will you tell me the worst you ever did?" - -"I haven't done the worst yet," explained the Watermelon. - -The general having nearly wrecked the cars and seen the damage repaired -by Alphonse, hurried to the four sitting on the stone wall. - -"Come on," said he. "It is time we were going. We have no blue book, -you know." - -"I shouldn't wonder," said Henrietta, "if there were not a rare chance -for some one to confess a heinous crime." - -She looked at Bartlett as he held out his hand to help her down and her -eyes laughed deep into his. - -"In self-defense--" he pleaded in a whisper. - -It was very early. The freshness of night still clung to fields and -wood. The air was full of the clamor of birds and from the valley below -came the stentorian crow of a rooster. Little wisps of white clouds -drifted by in the deep blue of the sky and a breeze played gently with -the girls' long auto veils. - -So in the freshness of the early morning they dipped down the hill into -the valley, passed farm-houses and corn lands. They stopped about nine -at a farm-house and partook of a breakfast of coffee, bacon and eggs. -Alphonse filled the cars at a village store and they went on. The glory -of the day, the close proximity of Henrietta, who sat beside him, -dainty, merry, feminine, the success so far of his plan, which in his -saner moments he still cherished, raised Bartlett's spirits higher and -higher and they went faster and faster. They swept over the boundary -line into Maine with a rush, taking the hills at high speed and skimming -into the valleys, now entering a stretch of cool dark wood, now tearing -into the sunshine again, past corn-fields, hay-fields, and rocky -pastures. Cows whisked their tails at the cars' approach and dashed -awkwardly away from the fence rails. Chickens squawked and tore madly -to safety with flapping wings. Farmhouses appeared and disappeared in a -cloud of dust. Lakes were seen one moment and gone the next. They -swept around a bend in the road and into a man trap, a pile of wood -across the road and three farmers waiting grimly with loaded guns. - -The Watermelon in the tonneau of the general's car, with Billy, -straightened up with a sickening fear of being arrested in her presence. -The fun and excitement of the adventure had disappeared. In their stead -stalked the grim reality of the fear of exposure, of the surprise, -scorn, perhaps anger, maybe pity, he would see in Billy's eyes. When -they parted and the Bartletts returned to the city, they would learn how -they had been deceived, and Billy would be angry, scornful and a bit -amused, for Billy enjoyed a joke even against herself and her ideas of -humor were young and of the same style, more or less, as those of the -Watermelon. But if he could he would drop out of her sight, first, the -good-natured, successful young financier, not slink away, the shiftless, -beaten tramp. - -The general for a moment considered it merely another means taken by the -conspiracy to rob him of his car and contemplated stern defiance of the -law's command to stop. - -"It's not highway robbery, Charlie," laughed Bartlett. "We've been -going a bit fast and have to pay up, that's all." - -Haled before the justice of the peace in the village store, Bartlett -paid his fine with casual indifference, the general with the haughty -disapproval of a judge presiding at the bar of justice, while Henrietta, -with gentle condescension, bought some highly-scented soap, "to help -them out," she explained, meaning the owners of the store, and the -Watermelon, to all outward appearances, frankly bored by the -proceedings, presented Billy with a choice assortment of gaily tinted, -dusty candy. - -They put up for the night at a small town in Maine. It consisted of -four or five scattered houses, a school, a store, and a barrel factory. -They found rooms in one of the houses and after supper, Henrietta, -Bartlett and the general sat on the stoop, while the men smoked and the -stars came out one by one, the frogs croaked dismally and the -whippoorwills called and called. - -The Watermelon asked Billy to take a walk with him and she consented. -She must never know, thought the Watermelon, with boyish self-loathing, -that he had dared to insult her by thinking of love, but it would not -hurt any one but himself to walk with her. There was only a day or two -more at the most before they parted, she to go to Newport and Bar -Harbor, and he to drift out on the tide again, one with James and Mike. - -They walked up the road in the soft beauty of the summer night. Billy -was tired and thoughtful, her girlish eyes catching a far off vision of -womanhood and what it meant. Unconsciously to both, a man's soul had -spoken and her woman's soul had stirred in answer, stirred, but would it -fully waken? - -The Watermelon rolled a cigarette and puffed moodily, too busy himself -with thoughts to talk, and the Watermelon did not like to think. He was -not used to it. - -"Darn it," he mused, "what did the Lord give us bodies for to want and -want and then add minds to think?" - -They came to a New England graveyard, perched on a rise of ground, where -the road cut through a hill, a lonely, neglected place, overgrown with -weeds and tall rank grasses, the gravestones flat or falling. Hardly -aware of what they did, they turned in and picked their way among the -sunken graves. - -"God's acre," whispered Billy softly, for youth loves sadness, at -certain times. - -The Watermelon tossed away his cigarette and took off his hat. -Somewhere, over there among the Green Mountains, in just such another -place, his tired little mother slept. Was her grave sunken, he -wondered, her tombstone flat or falling limply sidewise? - -The moon was sinking slowly in the west, a silver crescent just above -the dark outlines of the woods. The sky was bright with stars, like the -kindled hopes of those who have gone. A wind stole softly by, rustling -the tall grasses and swaying the tree tops. But there among the graves, -it was very dark and still. - -Billy sat down on the bank by the driveway, and the Watermelon sat -beside her, not too near. There was at least a foot between them. - -"We are all alone," said the Watermelon, thinking aloud half of his -thoughts. "All alone, but for the dead." - -Alone, and the seven seas could not have parted them farther. - -"And God," added Billy piously. - -"If there is one," admitted the Watermelon. - -Billy looked at him quickly, earnestly. "Oh, Jerry, of course there is -a God. Don't you know it?" - -"No," said the Watermelon. "When a person is happy, they know there is -a God; when they are wretched, they say, every one does, 'There is no -God.' If there is one, why doesn't He let the miserable wretch realize -it instinctively as well as the happy person?" - -Billy had never suffered, had never felt the foundations of her world -falling around her in ruins, had never cried aloud in anguish, "How -long, oh Lord, how long?" She answered from her inexperience, from the -faith that had never been tested, "Of course there is a God. Every one -knows it, every one prays. Why, if your father was a minister, I should -think you would know that there is a God." - -"That's the trouble. He was a minister and he lost faith, and when he -who should have known, wondered if there was a God, we kids knew there -wasn't. I suppose it's the same if a boy finds that his mother has lost -her virtue. He thinks there is none." - -Billy placed her hand on the bank between them and leaned toward him on -her straightened arm. "Poor old Jerry! But if your mother still -believed?" - -"A mother always believes in God and her worthless sons. It's a part of -being a mother, I suppose." - - - - - *CHAPTER XVI* - - *A THIEF IN THE NIGHT* - - -Billy laughed a low, throaty gurgle, and laid her hand an instant on his -sleeve. "Don't you see, she believed in God and she believed in you. -You didn't go back on her. Would God?" - -The Watermelon did not answer. He was busy with a scene of the long -ago. He and the youngest Miss Martin had been engaged in a set-to which -hardly savored of brotherly love, and parental authority had separated -them and passed judgment. - -"Sister should not have struck you," the mother said as she stood him -grimly in the corner. "But, Jeroboam, you should not have deceived -sister. If you men would only keep faith with your women, this world -would be too good to leave, even for Heaven," she had added with her -usual tired sigh. - -How had he kept faith with Billy? The question stared him in the face -and he felt like the child again, standing in the corner, unable to -answer. For the sake of an amusing week of her society, he had -practically betrayed her father, had branded himself a thief by keeping -the clothes, the watch, the money, which he had taken wrongly, for a few -hours' fun, but which he had intended to return. In the love he felt -for the girl, his long-stifled conscience slowly stirred again. - -Billy was talking, crooning her comfort with the maternity latent in all -women for the men they love. "Don't you see, Jerry, there is a God? -Think of what you did for your mother, think of how proud she was of you -when you did so well. By sheer grit you have made yourself what you -are. You are tired and blue to-night, poor old boy." - -The Watermelon was not listening. He took a roll of bills from his -pocket and counted them. Billy watched him in perplexity. Was he -worrying over money, she wondered. One hundred and seventy-four dollars -left. He had not had an opportunity to spend more of that roll of bills -which he had betrayed a woman and lowered his manhood to steal. He -crushed the bills back into his pocket and rose. - -"We had better go back," said he shortly. "It's late." - -They found Henrietta and Bartlett on the front porch, talking in low -voices, oblivious to all else. The general had long since sought the -doubtful comfort of the country bed for city boarders. - -Billy held out her hand to the Watermelon, a little ceremony she had -heretofore neglected, wishing in her tender little heart that she -understood his strange mood better and could comfort him. - -"Good night," said she gently. - -"Good night," said the Watermelon. - -Henrietta rose. "I didn't know it was so late. Wait, Billy, I am -coming with you. Good night, all." - -Bartlett followed the girls, but at the door he stopped and glanced back -at the Watermelon, standing on the grass by the steps. - -"Better come to bed," said he. - -The Watermelon nodded abstractedly and Bartlett went in, leaving him out -there alone. - -Without thinking of Billy other than as a pretty girl with whom to -flirt, moved by the mischief of the moment, he had placed her father -financially at the mercy of his enemy. And now to right the wrong to -Billy, the only thing he could do would be to tell them who he was, a -tramp, masquerading with decent people in his stolen finery. Petty -thieving, the sharp tricks of the road, had passed quickly from his -conscience, but this was different. A woman had been thrown into the -bargain, the woman he loved, and Henrietta and the general trusted him. -Bartlett deserved all he got, and Batchelor he dismissed with the -comforting conviction that he was doing him a good turn. But Billy, -Henrietta and the general! A wry smile twisted the Watermelon's mouth -as he thought of the horror on the general's face when he learned that -he had spent the week in the company of a nameless hobo. For a while he -contemplated hurling away the watch along with the rest of the -"hardware" and stealing away in the dark, hitting the trail again and -catching up with Mike and James on their annual pilgrimage north. He -drew the bills from his pocket and thought of all Bartlett would lose if -he crept away without explaining, and Bartlett was Billy's father. - -He heard a step on the porch and turned to see Billy hesitating in the -doorway. "Jerry," she whispered softly and glanced behind her as though -fearful of seeing her father or Henrietta peering at her over the -banisters. - -He went toward her, the bills still in his hand. "Billy," said he, -thrusting the money into his pocket, "what are you doing at this time of -night?" And he looked down at her tenderly in the dark where the hall -lamp could not reveal his face. - -Billy hesitated. She had seen the bills again and knew that he was -worried. To worry over money matters was an unknown experience to -Billy. She felt a delicacy in mentioning her errand. - -"I--I--I came to see if the moon had set," she faltered. - -"It's set," said the Watermelon. - -"Well," said Billy, "then I will go back." - -"Good night," said the Watermelon. - -"Good night," said Billy, and lingered. - -Then she laid her hand on his arm and spoke in a rush. "Oh, Jerry, -please don't worry. If you want any money, father has heaps. You can -have all you want." - -The Watermelon drew a bit nearer. "Billy, Billy," said he softly. - -"I think it must be terrible to worry about money," Billy hurried on. -"It's not worth it." - -"I'm not worrying about money, kid," said the Watermelon with a laugh. -"I have a bunch. What made you think I was?" - -"Twice to-night you've counted your money." - -"Esau's bowl of pottage," sneered the Watermelon, turning unconsciously -to the old familiarity with the Bible. "Say, Billy, if he found he -didn't like his pottage, could he give it back and get his birthright -again?" - -Billy blushed. She was not sure who Esau was. In a dim way she -remembered the name and vaguely associated it with the Bible. "Couldn't -he have gotten something else?" she asked judiciously. - -"No," said the Watermelon. "He had nothing more to sell." - -"What did he sell?" - -"His birthright--for a mess of pottage." - -"Why'd he do that?" - -"He was stony broke, he wanted something to eat, see, and he sold his -all for a mess of pottage. Now, if he found he didn't like his pottage, -could he have given it back and gotten his birthright again?" - -"Yes, indeed," chirped Billy. "I don't see why not. But why didn't he -get something better than a mess of pottage?" - -"Don't ask me, kid. But, I guess you're right. No one can keep your -birthright unless you're willing they should." - -"I usually know more about the Bible," stammered Billy, fearful of the -impression her ignorance must have made. "I know about Moses and Ruth." - -The Watermelon nodded. "You see, I was raised on the Bible," he said -kindly. - -"Yes," agreed Billy, "and I was raised on Mellen's food." - -A step was heard on the floor above and she started hastily. "I guess I -had better be going," she whispered. "Good night, Jerry." - -"Good night, Billy." - -She slipped away and the Watermelon was again alone. - -"She's right. If you don't like your pottage, you can get your -birthright back. I can leave a note," he thought and laughed bitterly. -"Haven't a thing, name, clothes, honor. Sneak away like a whipped cur. -Gosh, I'll be hanged if I can't do something respectable. I will tell -them in the morning and they can do and say what they please. If you've -sold your birthright to the Old Man, you have to go after it in person -to get it back. Why the deuce did I fall in love with Billy? I had fun -in the beginning--but now!" - -When the Watermelon awoke next morning he lay for a time, stretching and -yawning in the comfortable bed and the pea-green silk pajamas he had -found in the suit-case in Batchelor's car. He glanced at the general -slumbering beside him, his mouth open and his round fat face as pink as -the pink cotton pajamas he wore. - -"Here's me in silk and him in cotton," thought the Watermelon. "He -couldn't tell a lie to save his soul, and I-- Stick to your pink -cotton, general," he whispered and slipped quietly out of bed. He -crossed the room to the bureau where he had left the watch the night -before to see the time. The watch was not there and he turned to look -in his trousers pockets, thinking he might have left it in them. But his -pockets were empty, save for a few old keys, his knife and "the -makings." Money, watch, cigarette case, all were gone. He turned to -the bureau. Cuff links and stick pin were also gone. Gingerly he felt -in the general's pockets. They, too, were empty. He stood a moment in -the middle of the room in his pea-green silk pajamas and gently stroked -his back hair, then he chuckled softly and glanced at the bed. - -The general was awake, looking at him with half-shut, sleepy eyes. - -"Robbed, General," said the Watermelon. - -"Robbed?" repeated the general, sitting up. - -"Everything gone," said the Watermelon, "or I'll eat my hat." - -The general rose and they made a systematic search through empty pockets -and rifled bureau. - -Bartlett came in gloomily. Without a cent among them they could not -continue the trip. They would have to make for the nearest telegraph -station and wire for help, and Batchelor, his whereabouts known to his -brokers, would probably receive an urgent call to return at once. - -"Robbed?" asked the general. - -"They left me my name," said Bartlett grimly. "Who steals your purse -steals trash, I suppose. We have that comfort." - -"Not my purse," said the Watermelon. "Mine had money in it." - -"My watch," said the general, "was a family heirloom. My great -grandfather carried it." - -"I wonder if the girls lost anything," said Bartlett. - -"We will have to go to the nearest telegraph station and telegraph for -money," declared the general. - -"I suppose so," growled Bartlett, and trailed from the room to finish -dressing. - -They found the girls in the dining-room, unaware of what had befallen -them. They had slept late and the clock on the mantel registered -half-past nine as the three men filed into the room. The general was -calm, pompous, austere, but Henrietta had not lived with him for five -and thirty years without having acquired the ability to read his every -mood. - -"Father," she asked, "what's the matter? Have your sins found you out?" - -The general waited for the slatternly maid-servant to give them their -breakfast and leave the room before he spoke. - -"We have been robbed," he said calmly, casually, as one would mention -the weather. His tones implied that he was perfectly willing to listen -to reason, but that he knew who the thief was and anything stated to the -contrary was not reason. - -"I spend my whole life, father," said Henrietta, "finding the articles -you have been robbed of. Your system is all right. You have a place -for everything, but you never remember the place." - -The Watermelon pulled out the linings of his empty pockets and held out -his wrists that they might see the cuffs tied together by a bit of -string. - -Henrietta and Billy stared. - -"I have never had a thief in my room," cried Billy. "I would like to -see how it feels." - -"I'm not robbed," said Henrietta, making a hurried examination of the -small-sized trunk she carried as a hand-bag. - -"It's the stable-boy," said the general. "I noticed him carefully last -night. He would not look any one in the face." - -"He goes home every night," objected Henrietta. "Mrs. Parker told me -so." - -"That's no reason he couldn't come back," said the general. - -"No," said Henrietta. "But because a boy won't look at you is no reason -to say that he is a thief." - -"He does look at you, anyway," said Billy innocently. "He looked at -me." - -"It was clever in him to take our checkbooks," said Bartlett. - -"He will forge our names," declared the general. "I made a check out to -pay for the board here, signed it, too, I remember, and then I found -some cash and thought I would use that and went to bed and forgot to -destroy the check. I know it was the stable-boy for my room has a -balcony in front, over the porch, and last night it was so warm I left -the door open." - -"Maybe it was," agreed Henrietta. "I hate to suspect him, though." - - - - - *CHAPTER XVII* - - *ALPHONSE RIDES AWAY* - - -"The stable-boy would have access to the back of the house, too," said -the general, who felt that if he had not become a general and had -escaped being a master mechanic, he would have been a famous detective. - -"Yes," agreed the Watermelon. "But I don't think it is the boy. I was -out until after eleven, and just before I came in I saw him drive up -with the girl. They had been out to some dance and he left her and -drove on." - -The girl appeared in the doorway wiping a plate, slip-shod and awkward. -Henrietta blushed, the general was painfully confused and the other -three turned their attention hastily to their food. - -"Want anything?" asked the girl. - -"No, thank you," replied Henrietta gently, feeling that in judging the -stable-boy she had somehow injured the girl. - -The girl lingered a moment, glanced significantly at the clock, and went -out. - -"Who could it be?" asked Billy, pleasantly excited. - -"Why, this is terrible," said Henrietta. "If the boy didn't do it, -there is no one else who could have, but the family." - -"It looks that way," admitted the Watermelon. - -"What shall we do?" gasped Billy. "What shall we pay them with?" - -The slatternly girl again appeared in the doorway much to the general's -nervousness. - -"Want anything?" she asked, and glanced again at the clock. - -"No," said Henrietta. "No, thank you." - -"I will speak to Parker," declared the general as the girl left. - -"I wish you didn't have to," sighed Henrietta. "It's horrid to lose your -money, but it must be so much worse to need money so that you would -steal it." - -"But that's the test of honesty," declared the general. "To need money -and not steal." - -"I know," admitted Henrietta, pushing aside her coffee cup. "I do -admire strong people who can resist, but I'm so much sorrier for the -weak who can't. It's pitiful, that's what it is." - -"Yes," cried Billy, as usual carried away by her feelings. "Let's not -say a thing." - -The door opened for the third time, but instead of the ineffective -maid-servant, the farmer's wife, fat, red-cheeked, good-natured, -entered. - -She approached the table and smiled jovially from one to the other. - -"I hope you liked everything," she said with a gentle hint in her tones -that they had lingered around the breakfast table long enough. "Have -you had plenty, General? Can't I get you some more coffee, Miss -Crossman?" - -"No, thank you," said the general, confused and unhappy. - -Mrs. Parker smiled still. "I am glad you liked everything. Your man -should be back soon. He hasn't had any breakfast yet." - -"Where'd he go?" asked the general, feeling that that was safe enough -ground. - -"My husband thinks that he went out in one of the automobiles very -early, for he found one of them gone." - -"Did your husband see him go?" asked Bartlett. - -"Oh, no, but he thinks he must have gone because there is only one -automobile--" - -"Oh, yes," said Henrietta, and stared at the others, fearful of reading -her own crushing suspicion in their eyes. - -Alphonse, the quiet, blasé, peerless Alphonse? Could it be he? That -Alphonse had gone for an early morning spin lured by the dew on the -clover fields, by the sweet chorus of awakening birds, borne by the -unsuppressible desire to see the shy, sweet advent of a new day creeping -up the flushed and rosy sky, was wholly out of the question. Alphonse's -soul, in the early morning hours, was filled only with the beauty and -glory of bed. The general had always been forced to arouse his -serving-man and the process had often been painful, calling for -sternness and suppressed wrath on the general's part. Alphonse a thief -was more believable than Alphonse getting out of bed uncalled. - -Billy was the first to speak. - -"The car," she whispered. - -"Oh, yes," said the landlady hastily, not quite sure what had happened -or was to happen by the expression on the faces before her. "Oh, yes," -reassuringly, "he took the car. My husband wasn't up when he went--" - -The general rose, his face red with anger. "If he has taken my car," he -thundered, "I shall have him prosecuted whether Henrietta likes it or -not." - -"It's an outrage," sympathized Bartlett. "We can telegraph the police." - -"Oh," moaned Henrietta, "I did love that car." - -The landlady sought to reassure them in a calm, placid manner that -savored of a big, gentle-eyed cow. "Why, he has only gone for a ride. -He went--" - -The general paused in the doorway. "He went last night, madam," said he -coldly, and slightly dramatically, for the general never believed in -spoiling a good story by a mild delivery. "And he took not only the -car, but all our money." - -Led by the general and followed by the landlady, they made for the barn. -There, in the middle of the floor where last night two cars had stood -side by side, a red and a blue, was now only one, a big, blue Packard. -A few hens stepped daintily here and there, around and under it, while -the cat cleaned her paws contentedly from her seat on the running-board. - -The general stopped in the doorway and stared. His car? And such a -wave of thanksgiving rushed over him that it was not his car that was -missing that he felt he owed Alphonse a debt of gratitude and forgave -him immediately. - -"My car," said he, and chuckled with relief. - -"Where's mine?" demanded Bartlett, growing red and angry. - -"Where's Alphonse?" suggested the Watermelon significantly. - -Henrietta laughed with positive gratitude to her erstwhile serving-man. -"Why," she cried, "he left us ours." - -"Alphonse was very fond of me," said the general with some little pride, -as he patted his car tenderly. - -"Yes," agreed Bartlett, "I can see that. He demonstrated it fully. I -am glad he didn't love you or he might have killed Billy and me." - -The landlord, followed by the slatternly maid-servant and the -shifty-eyed stable-boy, trailed into the barn. - -"Man gone off with your car?" asked the landlord. "I locked up last -night about twelve. He must have left before then." - -"The general's man did," said Bartlett, who felt that the general was in -some way to blame. - -"He has taken all our money," added Henrietta. - -"A thief, eh?" said the landlord. - -"Can't we follow the car by the tracks?" asked Henrietta. She went to -the door and peered eagerly at the many wheel tracks in the dust of the -drive. - -The general waved the suggestion scornfully aside. "You can't tell -whether the tracks are coming or going," said he. - -"All detectives do," said Billy, following Henrietta to the door. - -"I'm sorry," whispered the Watermelon in Billy's ear. - -Billy laughed. "We have more cars at home," said she. "It doesn't -bother me at all. That's the trouble of being rich, you can't be robbed -and feel badly about it." - -"Batchelor, you say that you were up until after eleven," said the -general, feeling that the occasion called for intelligence. "Did you -see Alphonse go out?" - -"No," said the Watermelon. - -"The landlord says, however, that he must have gone before twelve," went -on the general. "Then don't you see how Alphonse could not have stolen -the money? Those thefts were not committed until after twelve." - -"I don't see how you work that out," said Henrietta, puzzling over it -with knit brows. - -"Don't you see, Henrietta, that if Alphonse stole our money after -twelve, he could not have gone out in the car before eleven, so if he -went out in the car before twelve, he did not steal the money. He -either stole the money or the car." - -"Maybe he didn't take the money," said Henrietta, feeling vaguely and -disappointedly that she was not a person with detective-like instincts. - -"You see," said the general, "if Alphonse took the car, he did not take -the money; if he took the money, he did not take the car." - -"He certainly did take the money," snapped the farmer. - -"And my car," added Bartlett angrily. - -"He could not have taken both," declared the general. - -"You were robbed last night, weren't you?" demanded the farmer. "Well, -then?" - -"And my car is gone, isn't it?" demanded Bartlett. - -"Yes, yes," acknowledged the general, feeling that every word he said -only made the other two angrier, but still clinging to his deductions as -to his life's principles. "Yes, of course; but Alphonse could not have -done both. He went off with the car before eleven, so he could not have -robbed us after twelve--" - -"Sir," interrupted the farmer with a quiet dignity that was impressive, -"do you accuse any of us of stealing?" - -"No, no," protested the general, now hopelessly rattled. "But if -Alphonse stole the money--" - -"Alphonse swiped both," said the Watermelon, and that settled it as far -as the general was concerned, for the general had boundless faith in the -young man's deductive abilities. "I went in about eleven. He took the -car out, ran it down the road a bit and then came back and sneaked our -things." - -"Certainly," said Bartlett, who could not help feeling irritated with -the general for the fault of his man. - -Billy laughed. "All this bother about nothing," said she. "Dad, what's -one car, more or less?" - -"A car is a car, Billy," said Bartlett coldly, refusing to be comforted -for the ruin of his plan to keep Batchelor away from the city over -Saturday. - -"Yes," agreed Henrietta sympathetically, "any one hates to lose a car." - -"But when you have seven," objected Billy. - -"We haven't got them here, have we?" asked Bartlett. - -"No, but we have one, and that's enough for five," declared Billy, -finding the usual difficulty in persuading people to count their -blessings. "We didn't need two, anyway." - -"Yes, we did," said the Watermelon, thinking of the tonneau with only -Billy and him, the general in front completely absorbed with the car. - -"Why?" asked Billy. - -"Why," stammered the Watermelon, who no longer cared to flirt with Billy -and who had spoken without thinking, "why, so the general and your -father could each run a car," he explained weakly. - -"Oh, yes," chirped Billy. "What will they do now?" - -The Watermelon turned and glanced out of the wide doors, down the -tree-shaded road, and thought pityingly of the unfortunate Alphonse, -gone off at the wrong time, with the whole country-side on the watch for -a lone youth in a big red touring car. That the car was of a different -make from the one they were hunting for would not impress the sheriffs -so forcibly as the fact that the youth also carried a time-piece as big -as a clock, along with a cigarette case, cuff links and stick pin, all -marked plainly and beyond question, with the damning initials, W.H.B. - -The Watermelon laughed softly, and glancing at Billy, laughed again. -With Bartlett going directly back to the city, he would not have to -confess to make things right. He could leave them at the telegraph -office and drift away on some pretext or another, leaving Billy gaily, -head up, as became a successful financier, not slink away like a whipped -dog, with only the scorn and loathing in her eyes to remember, to -obliterate all the other memories of that one nearly perfect week. - - - - - *CHAPTER XVIII* - - *OH, FOR A HORSE* - - -The farmer forgave the general with lofty dignity and turned to Bartlett -with suggestions and offers of help. There was a telephone in the -village store. They could telephone Boston or Portland, or they could -telephone Harrison and Harrison could telegraph the larger cities. With -the police notified promptly, Alphonse would not be able to get far. - -Bartlett meditatively chewed a straw and pondered the suggestion, -leaning against the nearest stall and frowning thoughtfully at the -general's car, while the others stood around him in a semicircle. - -They were ten miles from the nearest railroad, and the train service, -when they did strike a road, was decidedly poor in that out-of-the-way -locality. Still, by good luck, quick work and prompt connections, -Batchelor would be able to reach Boston late that afternoon or evening -and New York before ten A.M., Saturday morning, and at ten A.M. Saturday -the last fight was to be fought, the last stand made. Without their -brilliant young leader, the opponents to the cotton ring would be -outnumbered and outclassed, hopelessly beaten. Bartlett's fighting blood -was up at the thought. Was he to have his week spoiled by the worthless -Alphonse's deviltry? Batchelor should not run the slightest chance of -reaching Boston that day, if he could help it. Henrietta had a little -money in her bag that would tide them over. Better avoid anything to do -with telegraph and telephones as long as possible. They could make an -attempt to reach Harrison and get lost. But getting lost wasn't as easy -as it appeared, when the general was along, thoroughly determined not to -get lost. Bartlett's thoughts were broken in on by the Watermelon in a -way that caused him quick alarm. The young man had at last awakened to -the gravity of the situation, as Bartlett had been expecting him to do -ever since the trip began. - -"We had better telephone," said the Watermelon, "as Parker says. We can -telephone for money and have it sent to Harrison, and we can ride to -Harrison and probably get there the same time as the money does and get -the train for Boston. It's time we were back in New York, anyway." - -The trip was ended and the sooner he left Billy the better. He could -give them the slip at Harrison and once more hit the road. - -"Telephoning from here won't help matters at all," objected Bartlett, -fighting for that opportunity to get lost again, just for one more -day--twelve hours would be enough. "We can drive to Harrison and -telegraph from there. It is only a ten-mile drive. We can make it in -fifteen minutes." - -"No joy-riding," warned Henrietta, "when we haven't any money to pay the -fines. I don't want to do my time in the workhouse." - -"We will do it in twenty minutes, then," laughed Bartlett, who saw -another way to create a delay that might be used with advantage. The -Parkers scorned to accept the few dollars Henrietta still had in the -dark recesses of her bag. - -"You can send it to us," said they, and the farmer added, heaping coals -of fire on the general's unfortunate head, "We trust you perfectly." - -The Watermelon looked sharply at Bartlett and wondered if he were up to -any tricks. The Watermelon had only ten more miles of Billy and he -didn't want to shorten the precious time by a confession if there were -no need for one. - -"Let's hurry," said he. There was no need of prolonging the misery in -the thought of the parting. - -"Worrying over his affairs," thought Bartlett. "He has come to at last." - -The general insisted upon driving, and as it was his car, Bartlett -perforce had to be content. He protested, however, that he knew the road -thoroughly, and could direct the general with no instructions at all -from the farmer, waving them all good-naturedly aside. - -They were all quiet as they started down the road. Henrietta was -depressed thinking about Alphonse. She had always stood in awe of his -superlative virtues, and the fact that he lacked several was a bit of a -shock. The general also was grieved. He had trusted Alphonse and -Alphonse had failed him. Billy was silent, for she wanted to think, and -all her thoughts were of the youth beside her, tall, slim, good-looking, -with his merry eyes and devil-may-care indifference. - -They could all go to New York together, she planned, and later, when her -father and herself went to their summer place on the coast of Maine, -they would get him to visit them there in their own home. And in the -winter--and Billy's thoughts lost themselves in the hazy rosy glow of -the future, with its possibilities and pleasures. - -It was after three. The day was intensely warm, even in the shady -wooded road on which they found themselves. They had been running -through the woods for nearly an hour, and apparently had not reached the -end of it. The last abandoned farm-house, gray, weather-beaten, forlorn, -had long ago been passed. The birds chattered shrilly in the leafy -profusion overhead; somewhere out of sight in the underbrush a brook -gurgled refreshingly over its stony bed, and once, far away and very -faintly, they heard the wild loon's dismal cry. - -The general stopped the car and turned sidewise to face those on the -back seat. "We are lost," said he. "Look at the odometer. We have -come twenty miles since we left Stoneham and we are no nearer Harrison -than when we started." - -"Lost again," wailed Henrietta. "How very stupid we are!" - -"It's my fault," admitted Bartlett truthfully, but with contrition. "I -said to take this turn back there near that barrel factory." - -"We can go back," suggested Billy. - -"Parker told me last night," said the general gloomily, "that there was -no settlement north of here for forty miles. We have probably come -north." - -"If we have come twenty miles, we can go twenty more without dying," -said Bartlett. - -"I don't know," laughed Henrietta. "I am famished now." - -"So am I," wailed Billy. "Henrietta, haven't we a thing to eat?" - -"Not a thing," said Henrietta. - -"Hit her up," cried Bartlett jovially. "We will break some more speed -laws, by George. I want something to eat." - -"We have heard nothing from father," teased Henrietta, her laughing eyes -on the Watermelon's face, full of tender amusement. He was so young and -looked so serious and almost unhappy that she was unhappy herself. - -The Watermelon was unhappy. By this time they should have been in -Harrison, with the parting over, and he wanted it over. The thought -that they would probably be together a day longer did not please him. -The sooner he took to the road again and became a bum and a hobo, the -better. Billy did not care for him. He was the only one who would -suffer, and every moment he was with her only made the suffering worse. -He turned to Henrietta with relief from the thoughts that were -insistently bothering him and would not let him alone. - -"Father was never in a motor-car," said he. "He used to say that his -funeral would be just another irony of fate. The only chance he had to -ride, he wouldn't be able to appreciate it." - -"I know that it is terrible to be poor," said Henrietta, "but I think -people ought to enjoy other things than just those that money can give." - -"What things?" - -"Why, the woods and fields, a beautiful day--" - -"Rent day, probably, and no rent money. Father used to say when you're -poor, every day is rent day." - -"We're nearing the end of the woods," cried Bartlett. "And I think I -see a house." - -And then the car stopped. - -"Gid ap," chirped Bartlett. - -Henrietta leaned forward. The general was hastily trying all the -brakes, slipping one lever then the other, fussing here and fussing -there, and Henrietta knew the symptoms of approaching trouble. - -"Father, is there anything the matter?" - -"Oh, no," pleaded Billy. "Not here?" - -The Watermelon leaned forward and opened the door. "Every one get out," -he ordered. "We can walk to the house. We mustn't monkey with the car -unless we want a pile of junk on our hands." - -He stepped out and turned to help the girls. - -"Not at all," declared the general. "I know all about a car. I can fix -it directly." He alighted and started to raise the bonnet. The -Watermelon intervened. - -"Look in the gasolene tank first," he begged. - -The general was already deep in the mechanism, oblivious to all else. -"It's the carburetor--" - -"Carburetor nothing," pleaded the Watermelon. "It's the gasolene." - -"Yes," agreed Henrietta indiscreetly, "maybe it is." - -"That won't help us any," snapped the general angrily. "Where can we -get more? Much better to have something else wrong--" - -"Not for the car," said the Watermelon. "None of us would be able to fix -it." - -"My dear sir," said the general warmly, "I have owned this car for a -year--" - -"I know," murmured the Watermelon. "I think it marvelous." - -"I am perfectly capable--" - -"Will you bet with me," interrupted the Watermelon, "that it's the -gasolene? Alphonse may have filled the other car at the expense of this -one." - -It was the gasolene, or rather the lack of gasolene, that had stopped -the car. - -"That's where a horse beats a car," lamented Henrietta. "You don't have -to keep bothering with their works." - -She sat down on the car step and clasped her hands in her lap. "We -could spend the night here, but in the morning we wouldn't be any nearer -gasolene than we are now." - -"I'm not fretting about gasolene," said Bartlett. "I want something to -eat. Let's all go to that house--" - -"We can't leave the car," objected the general. - -"No one could go off with the car," argued Henrietta. - -"And we can get them to send a horse," added Bartlett. "I am starving." - -"I feel like the car," said Billy. "I have no gasolene." - -"I can not leave the car," reiterated the general, and Henrietta -realized that that settled it as far as the general was concerned, and -that it would take her greatest tact to unsettle it. - -"I will go and get a farmer and a horse," said the Watermelon, -unexpectedly siding with the general. "We would have to be here anyway, -to see that they towed it in right." - -"A horse would do," said Billy gravely. "We don't need the farmer." - -"I have hopes of Billy sometimes," said Bartlett, regarding his daughter -quizzically. "I sometimes even think that she may grasp the difference -between sunshine and rain and realize it's best to keep out of the -latter." - -Billy looked hurt. "Father doesn't like me any more," said she, adding -shrewdly, "He thinks I'm getting rather too old for him, anyway." - -Bartlett blushed, Henrietta laughed and the general roared. - -"You grown-up daughters are so hard to explain," said he. "Not once do -you offer to be a sister to us." - -"I wouldn't be a sister to father for anything," protested Billy. "He -must be fifty, at least." - -Bartlett flushed angrily. He dared not glance at Henrietta. "I am -forty-five," said he coldly, which was at least two years and a half as -near the truth as Billy's rash statement. - -"Yes," sneered Billy. "And I'm only eighteen." - -Henrietta changed the subject. When one is eighteen one can announce -the fact loudly and cheerfully. When one is thirty-five, one prefers to -talk of other things. - -"Why not all go for the horse? The car will be all right, father; and I -am so hungry," she added pathetically. - - - - - *CHAPTER XIX* - - *A BROKER PRINCE* - - -"I am going," said Billy with determination. - -"We can't leave the general alone," objected Bartlett. - -"I don't see how I would be able to help the general any," returned -Billy in injured accents. - -"I thought you could push him in the car," explained Bartlett with -gentle sarcasm. - -"You all wait here," said the Watermelon. "I will go and get you -something to eat and see about having the car towed, also about rooms -for the night." - -"Why not all go?" pleaded Henrietta. "Why wait here starving--" - -"I can go faster alone," answered the Watermelon. - -"Certainly, certainly," seconded the general. "We would have to help you -girls over every wooden fence and under every barb wire one we came to. -You would probably even then get stuck on one or under the other." - -"I never get stuck on anything," contradicted Billy perversely. - -Henrietta laughed. "Billy, cheer up. The worst is yet to come." - -"That house may be empty," said the Watermelon. "Then we would be all -over there and have to come back." - -"We've been in empty houses before," said Henrietta crossly. - -"But what good would that do, to be over there without food?" asked the -Watermelon. - -"What good to be here without gasolene?" retorted Henrietta. - -"I can not leave the car," reiterated the general. - -"Father," exclaimed the exasperated Henrietta, "some night I will find -that you have taken the car to bed with you." - -"Suppose we leave the car here--" began the general argumentatively. - -"We can't," sighed Henrietta. "Such a supposition would be impossible -with you the owner of the car." - -The Watermelon laughed. "Aw, cut out the conversation," said he. "I -will be right back." - -"So will I," said Billy. - -Now the Watermelon objected. He did not feel equal to a _tête-à-tête_ -with the adorable Billy, adorable still, though a bit cross. - -"Cut out the conversation," mimicked Billy, and scrambled with more -speed than grace under the broken bars of the worm-eaten fence. - -The Watermelon leaped the fence after her. Henrietta slipped under the -fence after the Watermelon. Bartlett hesitated one moment, glanced -guiltily at the deserted general and then followed Henrietta. - -Billy and the Watermelon were young and light of foot and soon -outdistanced the stout Bartlett, who did his gallant best to keep up -with the nimble Henrietta, but found that the years of good living told -against him. - -Henrietta waited politely for him at the stone wall which Billy had just -scaled and the Watermelon jumped. - -"What are we hurrying for?" asked Bartlett, removing his hat to wipe his -heated brow. - -"I am sure I don't know," laughed Henrietta. "Monkey see, monkey do, I -suppose. That is why there is such a thing as style. No one thinks." - -"If we waited here," suggested Bartlett, "our dinner would come to us." - -"As the office to the man," agreed Henrietta. - -"Precisely." - -Henrietta sat down on the wall and Bartlett leaned beside her, gazing -over the field to the distant woods. He felt thoroughly comfortable and -contented. No matter what happened now, Batchelor could not reach the -city by Saturday. The cotton ring was saved. - -The scene before them was a typical Maine landscape, rugged, hilly, -beautiful, with the long shadows of approaching evening creeping across -the fields. From where they rested, the farm seen from the road was -hidden from sight. The whole place seemed desolate, primeval, with a -beauty and a charm that were all its own. - -Henrietta drew a quick sigh of pleasure and fell silent, with dreaming -eyes wandering into the mysterious shades of the distant woodland, her -hunger for the time forgotten. The place, the time of day, just at -eventide, suggested romance, the one man and the one woman, and the -world not lost, but just attained. She wished she was Billy, young and -foolish and pretty, and that Bartlett was the Watermelon, long-limbed, -broad-shouldered, with the glory of youth that sees only glory down the -pathway of the future. - -Bartlett broke in upon her reveries. "See that hill?" and he waved -toward the slope ahead of them. - -Henrietta nodded, still wrapped in her dream. "The hill of life," said -she, "with glory at its top." - -"A railroad," said Bartlett, prosaically matter-of-fact, "a railroad has -been cut through the hill. See, there go the children, suddenly out of -sight." - -Henrietta came back to earth. "How do you know? Maybe there is just a -steep incline the other side and that is why they disappeared so -quickly." - -"No, there is a cut up there. Don't you notice how abrupt it looks, and -there are no trees or bushes. They haven't had time to grow since the -cut was made. And those big lumps, see, covered with grass, they are -the earth thrown up out of the cut. It's the Grand Trunk. It runs -through Maine, you know, into New Hampshire." - -Henrietta nodded and frowned. "There is no more romance," and she threw -out her hands with a graceful gesture of hopeless disappointment. "It -went when the first steam-engine came." - -Bartlett looked at her, amused, with a man's tolerance. "What do you -want romance for? A railroad pays better." - -"Pays, pays, pays," cried Henrietta. "I want something that doesn't -pay--that isn't associated with returns. You men have nothing but a -bank-book for a heart. It's so lovely here, so quiet. Don't you feel -it? With the shadows creeping across the pasture? I was young and -beautiful--" - -"And a princess." - -"No, a goose maid. My hair was brown and thick and hung over each -shoulder in two long braids. I was bare-headed, with sleeves rolled to -the elbows of my shapely arms--" - -"You would have got malaria," said Bartlett. "It's very damp here. I -think there must be a pond over there in the woods. You can hear the -frogs." - -"Oh, yes," agreed Henrietta. "I would have had malaria and rheumatism, -but I wouldn't have cared, then--for you see, I had come after the -geese, and down here in the tiny glen, with the hush of evening over -all, I had met him--" - -"Who? Me?" - -"My lover," said Henrietta. - -"Me," said Bartlett softly, and to Henrietta's surprise he laid his hand -gently on hers. - -Henrietta blushed and looked away. Her lover, this stout, grim, -hard-eyed man of business? She raised her hands to her cheeks and her -heart fluttered so she could hardly breathe, while before her startled -gaze swam the vision the years had been unconsciously forming. Had -romance come to her thus late, in this guise? Was a middle-aged member -of the New York Stock Exchange her prince? - -"Henrietta," he asked gently, leaning toward her, "shall I finish the -story?" - -"Why no," said Henrietta, "there was no finish. It had just begun." - -"Just begun," whispered Bartlett, and took her suddenly into his arms. - -"Oh, please," begged Henrietta, feeling that modesty called for some -remonstrance. - -"Please," he taunted. "When you were the goose girl and I was the -prince, you didn't say please." - -Henrietta laughed. "And neither did the prince," she dared him. - -"No decent lover would," said Bartlett, bending and kissing her full on -her whimsical mouth. - -After some little time they saw the others reappear over the top of the -hill. Henrietta had returned to her seat on the fence and Bartlett was -beside her, his arm around her waist, her head on his shoulder with a -simplicity truly bucolic. So might the Parkers' shifty-eyed stable-boy -be wooing the slatternly maid-servant in some secluded place behind the -barn. - -Henrietta straightened quickly and blushing crimson after the manner of -the maid-servant, raised her hands to her hair so that one side of her -coiffure might not appear unnecessarily flattened before the sharp eyes -of the youthful Billy. - -"Aren't we silly?" said she, glancing at Bartlett with the same -expression with which the maid-servant would have glanced at the -stable-boy. - -"Why silly?" demanded Bartlett. "We love each other, don't we? Why -shouldn't I put my arm around you?" - -"Oh," said Henrietta, "you should, but--er--er we seem so old for such -things." - -"Old?" Bartlett laughed. "Love is the oldest thing in the world." - -"I know," agreed Henrietta, "but not before people." - -"Why not before people? People have become too artificial. They must -not love, nor hate, nor have any feelings, apparently, before people. -Feelings are interesting and we ought to show them more." - -Henrietta laughed. "Oh, you are silly, silly, silly. I never knew a -New York broker could be so silly, so mushy." - -"There's not a man living whom the right woman can't make mushy. Women -never realize how silly men are at bottom, my own. They are frightened -by our exteriors, by the ingrain fear of the chattel for her master, -born in women since Eve handed the larger share of the apple to Adam." - -"I always thought that I would be dignified and sweet--" - -"You are, my love." - -"No, I am as silly as you. I put my head on your shoulder just as these -girls do whom you see in Central Park on Sunday afternoons. I never -thought that I would be like that." - -"You have never loved before--" - -"Indeed, I have. I have loved nearly every one I have ever met. Most -all girls do." - -"That isn't love. Merely an increased vibration of the muscles of the -heart. Love--ah, Henrietta, do I have to tell you what love is?" - -"No," whispered Henrietta. "It's just giving." - -She paused, gazing before her into the deepening shadows of the evening -with misty eyes, for the first time realizing the completeness of life. - -She nodded after a moment toward the approaching Billy and the -Watermelon. "What's the matter with the children? They look so -serious, and yet they must have something to eat, for they are carrying -bundles." - -"Probably couldn't arrange for a tow for Charlie's car and see where we -sit up with it all night and hold its head." - - - - - *CHAPTER XX* - - *THE SEVEN O'CLOCK EXPRESS* - - -As Bartlett said, the hill was cut through by a railroad. The deep -gully brought Billy and the Watermelon to a halt when they had -outstripped Bartlett and Henrietta, leaving them behind at the foot of -the hill. The sides of the gully were overgrown with grass and tangled -briers, but a narrow foot-path led down to the tracks and up the incline -on the other side. The Watermelon helped Billy down one side and -dragged her up the other. - -"I would hate to be a tramp," panted Billy as she reached the other side -and paused a moment for breath. "I would get so cross if I were hungry -and knew I couldn't get anything to eat for a long time." - -The Watermelon flushed hotly, but she was not looking, and when he spoke -he spoke carelessly enough. "You would get used to it," said he. "You -can get used to anything. Father used to say that the idea of hell for -all eternity was an absurdity--you were sure to get used to it and then -it wouldn't count any more as a punishment." - -"I suppose that's so," agreed Billy. "But how do you know? You weren't -ever a tramp, were you, Jerry?" - -"A tramp, kid, is the only man in America to-day, besides the -millionaire, who is his own master. Do you know that?" - -"I would kind of hate that sort of master," said Billy. - -"A tramp never has to worry about rent--" - -"I know, but I should think the house might be worth the worry." - -The Watermelon changed the subject. - -A grim, elderly woman, thin and work-worn before her time, listened to -their troubles in the faded, weather-gray farm-house. Her man, she -explained, was out in the fields with the horses, but when he returned, -she would send him around and he would tow the car in for them. She -never took boarders. The house was a sight, but if they didn't mind, -she did not and they could have two rooms. She wrapped some bread, -fruit and cookies up for them in newspapers, and they started back to -wait with the others by the machine until the farmer came. - -The still hush of evening was over everything, creeping with the -lengthening shadows across the pasture. A flock of turkeys was making -noisy preparations for bed in some trees near by. The frogs had begun -to croak and once in a while a whippoorwill called from the woods. In -an adjoining hay-field, hurrying to get in the last load before dark, -the Watermelon saw the farmer. A pair of sorry looking nags drooped -drearily, attached to the cart with its high, shaky load of new-mown -hay. - -"I'm going to speak to him myself," said the Watermelon, stopping. "It -will save time. You wait here. I won't be long." - -"Give me the food," said Billy. "I will take it to the others. Poor -things, they must be starving." - -"I won't be long," objected the Watermelon. "You can't carry it alone." - -"Indeed, I can," protested Billy. - -The Watermelon laughed down at her. "You couldn't get up the other side -of the crossing," he teased. - -"A girl," said Billy sagely, "is a lot more capable when she is alone -than when she is with a man." - -She took the ungainly bundle and he watched her hurry away across the -fields, slim and graceful, dainty and sweet, while he was--a tramp! His -eyes darkened with pain and he threw one hand out after the small figure -in a gesture that was full of mingled longing and hopelessness. - -"Billy, Billy," he whispered, then turned from the thoughts which were -coming thick and fast and started toward the distant field and the -farmer. - -[Illustration: "Billy, Billy," he whispered] - -The farmer listened with blunt stupidity, hot and tired and cross. Yes, -he would come for the car as soon as he could, but the hay had to be got -in first. It was late now. That train whistle you could hear was the -seven o'clock express. His horses were tired, too, but, of course, if -he were paid, why that made a difference. He would be around as soon as -he could get his load in. It was the last load, anyway. - -The Watermelon turned and far in the distance, echoing and reëchoing -through the hills, he heard again the scream of the approaching train. - -"Billy win be across the tracks by this time," he thought. "I will have -to wait for it to pass. Glad it ain't a freight." - -He hurried moodily through the field. His position had become -intolerable and yet he could find no chance to get away without -revealing his identity, and to do that now would do no good. They could -not reach the railroad any sooner than they were trying to. He longed -for the morrow that would end it all and yet dreaded the barrenness of -the future without Billy. - -As he approached the cut, he saw the smoke of the train rising above the -bushes, an express, tearing its way through the evening calm like some -terrible passion searing the soul. The Watermelon stepped to the edge -of the cut and glanced carelessly downward. - -There was Billy on the track, struggling to free herself from the rail -which held one small foot. Around the bend came the huge engine with -its headlight already lit for the wild night run. - -The next two minutes were ever after a blank to the Watermelon. He was -in the cut, beside the white-faced, struggling girl almost -simultaneously with seeing her. As he shot down the bank, he felt for -and drew his knife. The engineer had seen them and the engine screamed a -warning, while the emergency brakes shrieked as they slipped, grinding -on the rails. On his knees, with one slash, the Watermelon cut the -lacings which, becoming knotted, had held her prisoner, then with one -and the same move, he had regained his feet and forced her flat against -the bank, as the train whirled by in a cloud of dust and cinders, brakes -grinding, wheels slipping, whistle screaming, a white-faced engineer -leaning horrified from the cab window. - -Trembling violently, Billy clung sobbing to the Watermelon, her face -hidden in his breast. The Watermelon crushed her to him as if he would -never let her go, his arms tightening with the agony of remembrance. He -was trembling as much as she from the horror of that terrible moment. -His head rested on her hair and he talked, poured out his love in a rush -of misery and thankfulness. Words tumbled over themselves and were -repeated again and again, in phrases hot from his lips came all his -pent-up longing for the girl. - -"Sweetheart, sweetheart," he whispered with white lips as Billy still -sobbed. "Darling, hush. Dear heart, my love, my Billy." - -After a time her sobs stopped and she raised her face. The Watermelon -bent his head and they kissed frankly with the simplicity of perfect -understanding, perfect love. For a moment they clung together, still, -then Billy was the first to rally. - -"We've got to go," said she, her hands raised to her tumbled hair as she -tried her best to laugh. - -The Watermelon caught her hands and forced them down, drinking her in -with hungry eyes. Then he bent his head and buried his face for a -moment in the backs of her small hands, while something like a sob shook -his shoulders. - -"Jerry," whispered the girl, a woman now, tender, compassionate, -gracious. - -The Watermelon dropped her hands and turned abruptly. "I'm a damn -fool," he muttered and picked up the bundle, still beside the track. - -"Why did you come?" she asked, all solicitude for him. "You might have -been killed." - -The Watermelon did not answer. He stalked across the track to the other -foot-path and Billy perforce had to follow. - -Henrietta and Bartlett had not even heard the wild scream of the engine -as it shrieked past, and when the Watermelon and Billy joined them, were -too preoccupied to notice anything for long in any one else. All four -returned to the general, quiet and apparently depressed. The general -was depressed himself. He did not see how it would be possible to get -gasolene in that neighborhood, and without gasolene they might as well -be without a car. - -Billy divided the bread and fruit, and without a word, they sat side by -side and partook of their humble repast, the two girls, the general, the -tramp and the financier. The color returned to Billy's face and in her -eyes was a great and shining light every time she looked at the -Watermelon, where he sat on the step of the car, bread in one hand, an -apple in the other, a part of the paper spread on his knees to serve for -napkin. - -But he would not look at her. His face was still white and he read the -paper before him that he might not think. Billy knew of his love and -loved in return, white, pure, decent Billy, and he a filthy piece of -flotsam washed for the moment from the slime of the gutter. Slowly, -precisely, he reread the article he had just read without having -comprehended a word of it. - -The parting that evening was slightly prolonged, much to the general's -annoyance. He was tired and wanted to go to bed, and why the others -should prefer to linger on the small stoop which served for porch, he -could not understand, and what he could not understand always vexed him. -Bartlett wanted to take a stroll before turning in, and when the general -kindly offered to accompany him, he decided suddenly and rudely, the -general thought, that he didn't care to go. Henrietta wanted to sit on -the stoop apparently all night. Billy wanted to walk, too. Walking, -the general decided, ran in the Bartlett family, but instead of taking a -stroll with her father, she hung around the stoop with Henrietta; while -the Watermelon did not know what he wanted to do as far as the general -could make out. He was quiet, strangely uncommunicative, seemed to be -thinking deeply on some important subject. Worried over the past week, -thought the general. Irritated and tired, the general could not bother -with such nonsense and tramped off to bed. - -The Watermelon felt that he could not say good night alone with Billy. -He had read the desire in her eyes for a bit of a walk with him and to -escape the temptation, he wished them all good night and followed the -general up to bed. - -All the strength of the man cried constantly for the girl, for her -sweetness, her charm, her grace. But he loved with the love that is -love, that will give all and ask nothing, a love that is rare and fine -and that comes to king and peasant alike, and to no one twice, to some -not at all. His week was up. He would slip away that night when they -were all asleep. Billy would forget him and he would be better with his -old cronies, fat blear-eyed Mike and James of the bon-ton. - -Long he lay on his narrow cot and stared at the gray square of the -window, while the gentleman he was born fought gallantly with the tramp -he had become. - - - - - *CHAPTER XXI* - - *RICH AND POOR ALIKE* - - -He lay staring at the window while Bartlett's and the general's snores -rose and fell, mingling in a steadily growing crescendo of sound. As he -stared, he noticed suddenly a faint glow in the east. It was too early -for daybreak and the glow was of a different color, brighter, more -orange in tint. He watched it a while without comprehending, waiting -until it was time for him to steal away from Billy, back to the road -again. And as he watched, he was brought to quick consciousness of what -it was by a tiny crimson flame which appeared for an instant and was -gone. - -The Watermelon leaped to the window. The barn, which, fortunately, was -unlike Maine barns, stood some little way from the house instead of -being attached to it. With a mighty burst of flames the roof caught -from the sides, which had been slowly smoldering. Every moment the -flames mounted higher and higher, fanned by a bit of a wind that had -arisen when the sun went down. The place was filled with the summer -hay, and even as the Watermelon took in the scene, he knew that there -was no hope to do more than to save the live stock, if they could do -that. - -Turning he aroused the general and Bartlett. - -"Get up," he whispered, not to disturb the girls, "the barn's on fire." - -Bartlett was up and half in his clothes before the general had opened -his eyes. The Watermelon had already slipped quietly from the room. - -"Fire," cried the general hoarsely, at last awake. He stood a moment in -the window, brightly lighted now from the dancing flames in the summer -darkness. Then he swore. - -"My car!" - -"Quick." snapped Bartlett. "The gasolene--" - -"There was no gasolene," said the general sadly, as one would talk about -a loved and dying friend. He turned mournfully from the window. - -The fire had gained too much headway to leave the slightest possibility -of saving the barn. The farmer, with the help of the Watermelon, -Bartlett and the general, had barely time to lead out the horses and -turn the cows into a temporary shelter. When that was done there was -nothing more that could be done but to watch the walls crumble and the -roof fall in a shower of sparks and a roar of flames, leaping and -dancing in a mad riot of destruction. All night the fire burned and all -night the four men and the three women turned their efforts to protect -the house. - -The general, by right and instinct, took command. He formed a bucket -brigade, stationing the Watermelon on the roof, at one end of the line, -and the girls and the farmer's wife at the well to fill the buckets at -the other end of the line. They worked hard and quietly, as people work -when face to face with the grim forces of nature. Under the general's -able management the few sparks which did threaten were quickly -extinguished and save for a slight scorching here and there the house -was safe. In the excitement no one but the general thought of the -general's car. - -The cold, gray streaks of dawn found them worn out, excited and hungry. -Unable to console the farmer and his wife, the five drew in a semicircle -around the smoldering heap which had been the barn, and forlornly -watched the last tiny flames licking around the twisted, blackened ruin -that had once been a motor-car. - -"Gone," said the general sadly. - -And Billy sniffed. - -"Better Alphonse had taken it," lamented Henrietta. - -"What shall we do now?" asked Bartlett. It was Saturday and Batchelor -would not be able to reach New York now no matter what happened. He had -won, the ring was safe, but he turned sadly to the general, and laid his -hand kindly on his old friend's shoulder. "Hard luck, man," said he. -"Hard luck." - -"We will have to go home," said Henrietta dully. - -"We have no money," replied the general quietly, unmoved by his -penniless condition, thinking only of the motor-car that was no more. - -"I have a little," said Henrietta. "About six dollars." - -"We owe at least all of that here for supper and rooms," said Bartlett. - -Henrietta glanced from one to the other, then laughed, a gay little -bubble of mirth. They had no money, but what did that matter? What did -anything matter when one loved and is loved? She felt guilty because -she was not sorrier over the loss of the car, and she patted the general -lovingly on the shoulder. - -"Cheer up, daddy, we haven't a cent, none of us," she crooned. - -"We can telegraph," suggested Billy. - -"From where?" asked Bartlett shortly. - -"Why, we can drive somewhere where we can," returned Billy desperately, -under her father's calm scrutiny of amusement. - -"Drive what?" asked Bartlett. - -"A horse," said Henrietta mildly. - -"What horse?" questioned Bartlett. "There are two. The farmer wants -them both to help clear up and to go to a neighbor's for assistance. -What shall we drive?" - -"Shank's mare," said Henrietta. "At the nearest farm, we can get a team -and drive to some town where we can telegraph." - -Bartlett and Billy agreed. The general said nothing. There was nothing -to say. The dream of his heart, the occupation of his days, was gone. -What was there to say? - -The Watermelon also was silent. He felt that he could not leave them, -now that they were again in trouble. When they reached the town and had -telegraphed, he would go--back to the road. He was chewing a straw, -hands in his pockets, gazing with the others in dull apathy at the -remains of the car, and he raised his head instinctively to read the sky -for approaching storms. There would be a moon that night and a good -breeze, which would make walking easy. - -"Hungry?" asked Billy gaily, smiling at him, her eyes asking what the -matter was. Had she done anything to offend him since the evening before -when they had climbed the railroad cut together? - -"I'm always hungry, Billy," said he and joined the general on the way to -the house. - -Billy stood a moment, hurt and flushed, then she followed the others in -to breakfast. - -The farmer's wife had made some hot coffee, strong and black, and fried -some bacon, and with thick slices of bread and butter, they all ate -ravenously at the bare deal table in the kitchen, with no pretense -whatever of tablecloth or napkins. The Watermelon and the farmer's wife -stood alone in the kitchen after the others had left and he looked down -kindly at her with the camaraderie felt only by one unfortunate in -trouble for another in a like place. - -"It's damn hard on you," he said. - -"And on him," said the woman. "All the hay was just in." - -"Lay not up for yourselves treasures--" murmured the Watermelon -laconically, instinctively turning to the Bible on every occasion. -"Pity you aren't a man. Then you could chuck the whole show and hit the -road with me. I'm stony broke, too." - -He patted her shoulder gently and tears leaped into the woman's tired -eyes. She cried a bit and he soothed her softly as one would soothe a -tired child. - -"Those others," said she, wiping her eyes on her coarse apron, "they are -kind, but they don't understand." - -"They mean well," said the Watermelon, "but you have to go through the -mill yourself, to _do_ well. I know what poverty means. Its ways ain't -ways of pleasantness by a dog-gone sight." - - -"Beggars all, beggars all," cried Henrietta, as they started up the -road, in the dewy freshness of early morning. - -It was still early and quite cool, with the breeze of the night -following them, laden with the depressing odor of charred timbers and -burning leather. The road wound around a hill, sloping now and again -into the valley and rising again to the heights. The view swept fields -and hills and woods, all of the deep green of mid-June, and over all -bent the blue sky of a summer day. - -The air was like ozone. It was a physical joy simply to walk, to -breathe the odor of fields and woods and open places and to let one's -eyes dwell on the beauty and the glory of the land. - -"I am glad it pleases you, Henrietta," said the general tartly. - -Henrietta sobered. "Father, I feel as badly as you do about the car. -But I can't go into mourning for it." - -"You needed another one anyway," consoled Billy, with the kindly -reassurance and hopeless misunderstanding of the rich. "The last model -is out now, you know." - -"Billy," said Henrietta, "do you think we can buy a car every time the -humor moves us? You don't understand." - -"I know," said Billy humbly, crushed under repeated rebuffs from every -one. "I am a perfect fool, Henrietta, but I can't help it." - -If the general could have forgotten the car for a while, he would have -been agreeably pleased and flattered by the Watermelon's sudden apparent -infatuation for him. The young man insisted on walking with him, -suiting his long, lazy strides to the general's best endeavors. -Bartlett, Henrietta and Billy swung along briskly ahead. Henrietta was -touched. The boy was trying to show his sympathy, she thought, and liked -him more than ever. - -It was nearly noon when they came in sight of their destination, a gaunt -gray farm-house, perched on the top of the gentle slope overlooking the -valley and the winding river to the woods on the hills beyond. They -came to the bars of a cow pasture and a narrow cow path leading across -the field to the house, a shorter way than by the road. - -Henrietta and Billy, seeing no cows in sight, allowed the Watermelon to -let down the bars and to pass through. Billy waited inside the fence, -standing by the path, among the sweet fern, until all had entered and -all but the Watermelon had started up the path for the house. - -Quietly she watched the Watermelon as he slowly and reluctantly replaced -the bars. - -"Jerry," said she, when he had at last finished, "what's the matter?" -She had stepped into the path in front of him and he had to stop and -face her. - -He flushed hotly and would not look at her. "There is nothing the -matter," said he. "Why? What makes you think so?" - -She drew herself up with pretty dignity. "You need not have told me what -you did yesterday in the railroad cut, if it were not so," said she, -quite simply. - - - - - *CHAPTER XXII* - - *THE TRUTH AT LAST* - - -"Billy," began the Watermelon, turning aside with darkening eyes, his -flushed face growing slowly white as he realized that the reckoning had -come. Billy must know all now, know who her companion of the past week -was, know the status of the man who had told her he loved her. Then he -turned to her again with all his mad, wild, foolish, hopeless longing in -his eyes and voice and held out his arms. - -"Oh, kid, I love you," he whispered, as she went to him, frankly and -happily. "I love you so I can't marry you." - -"It's old-fashioned to love your wife, I know," chirruped Billy, "but -let's be old-fashioned." - -"It isn't that, Billy," said the Watermelon slowly. He held her a -moment, looking down into her eyes as she looked up at him, her hands on -his shoulders, her head back. - -"What is it?" she asked, frankly puzzled, but refusing to be dismayed. -"You can't afford a wife, you who made three--four--millions this year?" - -"Yes," said the Watermelon, grim and quiet, "that's it." He let her go -and thrust his hands into his pockets. "I haven't a cent, haven't ever -had one. I'm not Batchelor with a few millions. I'm a tramp without a -cent, stony broke. That suit-case," kicking Batchelor's suit-case which -he had carried with him, "is another's and I'm going to chuck it -to-night." - -Billy stared, mouth slightly parted, her brows drawn together in wonder, -unbelieving. "Not Batchelor?" she stammered. "William Hargrave -Batchelor?" - -"I am Jeroboam Martin of Nowhere and Everywhere," said the Watermelon -bitterly. "That Sunday I met you, I found Batchelor in bathing down in -the woods. I swiped his clothes, Billy, for the dinner I could get at -the hotel. Then I saw you. I wanted the week with you and I just went -on being Batchelor. See?" - -"How?" asked Billy through white lips, staring at him from where she -stood in the middle of the tiny cow lane, winding away up the hill among -the sweet fern and the bracken. - -The Watermelon raised his hand to his head and gently brushed his back -hair with futile embarrassment. "Why, you know that guy we heard -coughing in the bushes? Well, he put me wise to the fact that your -father--er--that your father and Batchelor were enemies on the Street -and I thought--maybe--er--if--why, your father asked me to go with you -on the trip, you know, and I thought--er--that if Batchelor was in the -city alone and your father thought he was with him--why, Batchelor could -beat him on the Street and not mind the loss of the few things I had to -take--er--see, I deceived the gang of you for a week's fun. See what a -cheap guy I am, Billy? A bad egg." - -"Yes," said Billy. "Father asked you to go. Why did he do that?" - -The Watermelon flushed. "Why--er--" - -"Father knew you were an enemy. He told me that you, Batchelor, I mean, -had made him lose a lot of money last week and would probably make him -lose more next week. Maybe father thought as you did, that if you were -out of the city--" she knitted her brows and gazed off across the -valley. "Father telegraphed just before we went to that place behind -the bam, right after dinner. I know, for I saw him go to the office. -Why don't you tell me the truth, Jerry?" - -"God, Billy, ain't I giving you the straight goods?" - -"Not about father," replied Bartlett's daughter gravely. - -"Why--er--he may have telegraphed--" - -"Certainly, he did," said Billy. "This whole trip was father's idea." -She brushed the subject aside as one to be returned to later. "Tell me, -Jerry, isn't your father a minister?" - -"Yes, that's straight. He was poor, darned poor. We were all poor. He -used to say that a man with more children than brains had no place in -the ministry." - -"I should think that possibly your father had brains," suggested Billy. - -"Yes," admitted the Watermelon. "But they didn't keep pace with the -children." - -"What happened to you all? Why--er--why couldn't you have worked at -something?" - -She was gazing at him bewildered, trying to get a grasp on the new state -of affairs. - -"Aw, we went from bad to worse," muttered the Watermelon sullenly. -"Father left the ministry. He used to say that you could appreciate the -glory of the Almighty much better in a dollar bill than in the Bible." - -"Maybe he had--er--no leanings toward the ministry," murmured Billy, -endeavoring to express as politely as possible her growing conviction -that the Reverend Mr. Martin was not a godly man. - -"Maybe not," agreed the Watermelon. "But when a man's down, every one's -down on him. Nothing father did went right. Ma died and the home broke -up--I don't know what's become of all the others--working, I suppose, -day after day, like slaves in a galley, you know. I tried it, and every -night I drank to drown the damnable monotony and stupidity of it all. -So, you see what I am, a bum--a tramp." - -"And yourself, my love, my Jerry." - -Billy held out her hands and he caught them and held them tightly in -both his own for a moment, then dropping them, turned away with half a -sob. - -"Don't, Billy. Don't make it so hard for me, dear. We can't marry. -I'm filth and you're sweetness and purity." - -"But other men have married. You aren't the only one who isn't clean." - -"I know, but I love you. See? When you love a person, you don't make -them suffer for it. You can't understand, Billy, for you have never -known life. You don't begin to know what it means. I will probably -marry a girl from the streets, or one with no brains and no soul. But, -you see, I love you." - -Billy's eyes blazed. "You will never marry any one else with me alive," -said she. - -"How could I marry you, dear? I have nothing--absolutely nothing. We -couldn't have a home anywhere." - -"We can make a home," pleaded Billy. She leaned toward him and laid her -hand on his arm, smiling into his moody face with all the charm, the -daring, the tenderness of a woman who loves and is fighting for her -happiness with every weapon at her command. - -"You can't make a home with nothing to make it on," said the Watermelon. - -"Ah, but we have something to make it on," cried Billy. "We have you -and me." - -"But no money." - -"Why, Jerry, I have money; hundreds, thousands, dear." - -But the Watermelon shook his head. "Money wouldn't be any good when I'm -rotten," said he. - -"Dear," crooned Billy, and kissed him on the chin, for she could reach -no higher. - -"Billy," he groaned. - -"Tell me you love me, Jerry." - -"Tell you I love you? Ah, sweetheart." - -"Tell it to me, Jerry." - -"Billy, I love you so, that if there is a God, I will thank Him all my -life for this week and the thought of you." - -"You may not," said Billy, "when we have been married a year." - -"We can't marry, dear. Don't you understand? I am a tramp." - -"And so am I." - -"Your father will kick me out when he knows--" - -"It's none of my father's business," said Billy with a saucy tilt of her -small chin. "He's marrying whom he pleases and I shall do the same." - -"Wait until I speak to him--" - -"No," said Billy promptly. "I will speak, Jerry. Promise me that you -won't say a thing until we get to the town where we can telegraph. Oh, -Jerry, my love, promise me." - -"I promise, Billy, kid." - -"Promise you won't say a thing until I speak." - -"I won't say a thing until I can't help it, but what good will that do?" - -"Let's be happy while we can," returned Billy, with a pretty evasion. -"We have one more day." - -"Oh, Billy," whispered the Watermelon. - -Billy turned and led the way up the path to the house while the -Watermelon picked up the two suit-cases and followed her. - -At the house they found the general with his usual inability to conceal -a thing, explaining that they had no money, but wished to have a -two-seated team and a driver to take them to the nearest town. - -The farmer did not hail the proposition with unalloyed joy. He looked -thoughtfully from one to the other while Bartlett explained earnestly -who he was, who the general was, who they all were, in a vain attempt to -undo the general's commendable, if mistaken, frankness. Upon promising -to let the driver keep his watch as a guaranty of good faith, to be -returned when the money they were to telegraph for arrived, Bartlett -persuaded the man to give in and go to the barn for the horses. - -Billy drew her father aside, while the general, Henrietta and the -Watermelon retired discreetly to the well for a drink. - -"Father," said Billy, coming directly to the point and evading it with a -skill that befitted her father's daughter. "Jerry wants to marry me. -Oh, father, I love him so. I love him as much as you do Henrietta." - -Bartlett flushed and dismissed Henrietta from the conversation. "My -dear Billy, you have only known him a week." - -"I know, father," agreed Billy, "but a week is long enough to fall in -love in. Truly, it is, father. And we both care so much, so very -much." - -Bartlett was secretly elated at the idea. He and Batchelor, with their -differences reconciled, fighting together, instead of each other, would -become rulers of the Street, could attain to any height. Batchelor was -young, clever, lovable. There seemed nothing to object to. But he felt -that he should. Conventionality, Henrietta, Mrs. Grundy, one or all -would clearly see that there was something wrong, would counsel delay, -waiting. He had never given a daughter away in marriage and was not -sure what to do. He hemmed and hawed and wished that he could consult -Henrietta. - -"We don't want the others to know," went on Billy guilefully. "Wait -until we get to the town before you say anything, won't you, father?" - -"But, Billy, a week." - -"Now, father," advised Billy, "just forget it. And I will forget about -you and Henrietta." - -"About me and Henrietta?" snapped Bartlett. - -"Yes," said Billy, "and last night on the porch when you thought we had -all gone in." - -"That will do, Billy. We did nothing at all but say good night. I have -no objection to Batchelor as a son-in-law from what I know of him; but -only a week--" - -"It was only an hour," said Billy. "I loved him that very first day. -And please, father, you won't say anything, will you, even to him, about -it? Just be nice to him, you know. And then I won't say anything." - -"Certainly I won't say a thing if you don't want me to, Billy--but there -is nothing whatever that you could say." - -"No," said Billy, "only what I heard." - -The carriage drove up at that moment, which was well. - - - - - *CHAPTER XXIII* - - *BACK TO THE ROAD* - - -Bartlett took the telegram the clerk handed him in an elation it was -hard to conceal from Batchelor, who leaned against the counter of the -store and telegraph office combined, and watched him moodily. - -"Realizes that it was a piece of foolishness, his taking that trip," -thought Bartlett with the sympathy of the victor for the beaten. "Has -probably forgotten Billy for the time. Poor Billy!" - -He tore open the telegram quickly and read it eagerly and then slowly -and still again more slowly, while his florid face grew first red and -then white. - -"Come back, for God's sake. B. here all the time. Where have you -been?" signed by his broker's name. - -After the third reading, Bartlett raised his eyes and glanced dully at -the Watermelon, leaning against the counter, among the gay rolls of -calico and boxes of rubber overshoes and stockings, watching him with -thoughtful wary eyes, and Bartlett wondered if he were going mad. - -It was late in the afternoon. The general and the girls, having -telegraphed for money, had gone to the hotel to wait for the answers, -while Bartlett and the Watermelon had remained in the store, Bartlett -eager to receive the answer to the joyful congratulations he had sent -his broker on the success of his plan, and the Watermelon because he -scorned to run away like a whipped cur, preferring Bartlett to know who -he was. - -"To ask me for Billy," Bartlett had at first decided, but changed his -mind as the youth's gloom became apparently impenetrable. - -Bartlett's jaw was set squarely, sternly, his eyes gleamed angrily and a -small pulse beat in his cheek. He handed the Watermelon the telegram -and watched him as he read it. - -"Who are you?" he demanded hoarsely, when the Watermelon had finished -reading the message and returned it. - -"Jeroboam Martin," said the Watermelon slowly, a grim amusement in his -half-shut eyes. - -"Jero--what?" - -"Jeroboam Martin." - -"But Batchelor," stammered Bartlett, confused. The power of suggestion -had been so strong that, though he occasionally thought the youth a bit -eccentric for a stock-broker, it had never entered his head to question -his identity. - -"Batchelor is in New York," returned the Watermelon. "I just -telegraphed him, C.O.D., where he could find his blooming car. Don't -suppose the police had sense enough to look for it at the hotel." - -"A low dirty trick," sputtered Bartlett. - -The Watermelon agreed. "Typical of the Street," he sneered. "Yah, it -fairly reeks with the filth of money, your plan and mine." - -"My plan?" Bartlett flushed and looked away. "Stung," said he humbly, -and crumpled the telegram in his hand as he gazed moodily through the -open door to the village street, impotent to refute the words of the -Watermelon. - -The Watermelon nodded without any undue elation, in fact, not thinking -at all about Bartlett, he was too entirely absorbed in his own troubles. - -"I suppose you are his partner--friend?" questioned Bartlett, after a -moment's painful readjusting of ideas. - -"No, I am a stranger. We met by chance, as you might say. I am a -tramp." - -"A tramp!" Bartlett's business chagrin vanished before the rush of his -paternal alarm and surprise. "But, by heavens, man, I told Billy she -could marry you." - -The horror in his tones angered the Watermelon. The hot blood leaped -into his face and his hands clenched. - -"Well, why not?" he demanded. "I am a man if I am a tramp." - -"Bah," sneered Bartlett. "A man? A cow, rather, an animal too lazy to -work. I suppose you stole your clothes." - -Both talked in low voices that the clerk, who only restrained himself -from approaching by the exertion of tremendous will power, might not -hear them. The Watermelon's face was very white, and he spoke slowly, -carefully, as he retold the episode of the swimming-hole and the stolen -car, still leaning against the varied assortment of dress goods. "I -borrowed these clothes," he concluded, "to keep you away from New York -for a week. That object may not sound original to you, and it wasn't. -You were the one who suggested it to me through the telegraph clerk last -Sunday." - -"That boy would take candy from the baby," swore Bartlett gently. - -"You were stung, that's all. I love Billy and she loves me. I hate -work, but for Billy I will work and am going to work. I love her." - -"Does she know you are a tramp?" - -[Illustration: "Does she know you are a tramp?"] - -"Yes." - -"You haven't a cent, I suppose." - -"No, but I can earn some." - -"How?" - -"Working." - -"At what?" - -"Something." - -"What?" - -"Anything. Damn it, I ain't incapable of anything but sleep!" - -"I've lost thousands through that dirty trick of yours--" - -"Yours. You originated it, you know." - -Bartlett leaned against the counter beside the Watermelon and glared at -the floor. Neither thought to leave the store, and even forgot the -clerk, who gazed at them dubiously from a discreet distance and wondered -how many more telegrams they wanted. - -Bartlett knew Billy. Billy said that she was going to marry this man -and so she would marry him--unless something more effective than verbal -opposition were used. He had never exerted any authority over Billy and -knew that it would be too late to begin now. Billy would only laugh at -him. But after all, he was Billy's father, he loved the girl and had -some right to object to her marriage with a tramp. - -He glanced at the thin clever face beside him and admitted that the man -had brains and apparently was not besotted or brutalized, merely -indifferent, lazy and wholly unambitious; besides, very young, impatient -of restraint and the dull grind of a poor man's life. - -"Who are your people?" asked Bartlett to gain time. He must make a plan -to separate Billy from this impecunious suitor. Authority was useless. -He must use tact, finesse. - -"My father was a minister," returned the Watermelon. "Yours was a -grocer. Billy told me. Families don't count in America." - -Bartlett nodded agreement. "Why did you become a tramp?" - -"Through inclination, not the whisky bottle. Not that I am above getting -full once in a while, 'cause I ain't. Just, I'm not a drunkard. See? I -didn't keep on losing jobs through drink and finally had to take to the -road because I was a bum. I took to tramping because I hate to work. -It takes too much of your time. An office is like a prison to me. A -man loses his soul when he stays all day bent over a desk. He isn't a -man. He's a sort of up-to-date pianola to a desk, that's all. There's -a lot of things to think about that you can't in an office. I wanted to -think and so I took to tramping. Besides, I don't like work." - -"Lazy--" - -"Yes," snapped the Watermelon, "but a man. I love your Billy--my Billy, -and I can work for her." - -Bartlett nodded indifferently, hardly hearing what the other said. He -frowned thoughtfully at the floor as he pondered the situation. If he -objected to the youth in Billy's presence, she would stand up for him, -all her love would be aroused to arms and she would see no wrong in her -hero. If the fellow snapped his fingers, she would run away with him. -What did Billy, tender, gently-guarded Billy, know of tramps, of the -rough, unhappy side of existence? Nothing. But if she caught a glimpse -of it with her own eyes, saw this lover of hers in his true light, -dirty, drunk, disreputable, the shock would kill her love utterly and -Bartlett would not have to use that authority of his which was no -authority, which Billy would refuse to obey. She had been free too long -for any one to govern her now. The only person who could effectually -break the unfortunate tangle was the Watermelon himself. Bartlett -glanced at the gloomy face beside him and read it as he had grown used -to reading men and events. - -The Watermelon was young, hardly older than Billy; he was desperately in -love, with a love that was pure and true and generous. He was thinking -of Billy and not of himself. His opposition to Bartlett was merely the -anger aroused by Bartlett's sneers. He was in reality filled with -humility and repentence to a degree that he would do anything to kill -the love Billy bore for him, knowing with his man's knowledge that he -was not worthy of her, and longing with his youth and love to sacrifice -himself for her best good, seeing through young, unhappy eyes, only the -past, his own shame and profession. Forgetting the possibilities of the -future, he had gone to the extreme of self-loathing. The one thing he -saw was his past, that past that was wholly unfit for Billy. It blocked -the entire view, crushed him with the weight of inexorable facts. To -the young there are but two colors, black and white, and the Watermelon -was very young. Bartlett looked at him keenly and decided that his plan -would work, that he would not have to take a last desperate and -ineffectual stand against Billy. - -"See here. In August we are going to our place in Westhaven. It's a -small town in this state, up the coast away north of Portland. Come to -her there at the end of August, come as you are, a tramp, dirty, shabby, -drunk--" - -"I don't drink, not as the others do." - -"Come drunk. Let her understand what being a tramp means, what your -life has been. If she still wants you, I hardly see how I can stop her. -That's only fair, for what does she know about you and your life? You -know all about her, what she has done and been and is going to do. -Leave her now, this evening. Go on being a tramp and then come to her, -at the last of August. Come as a tramp, mind. Don't let her think that -it is a test she is being put to or she will only laugh at it and us and -go on wanting you just the same, scorning to be tested, to think that -her love could fail. Give her some other excuse for your going. You -must see that it is only fair to the little girl to let her see what she -is up against." - -"Yes, I see. I tried to tell her," agreed the Watermelon gloomily. - -"If she loves you through it all, she can have you, and I suppose I will -have to consent. I can afford a penniless son-in-law and I guess an -American tramp is preferable to a European noble." - -"I won't be penniless," said the Watermelon. "I could work like a nigger -for a month and own forty dollars, thirty of which I would owe for -board." - -"That's just it," declared Bartlett promptly. "You can't support Billy -in the way she is used to being supported, can't give her the things -that have become necessities to her." - -"I can support her in my own way," said the Watermelon, trying to reason -down his own benumbing repentence and humiliation as well as to convince -Bartlett of that which he himself knew to be all wrong. - -"But that isn't Billy's way. You couldn't give her a servant, for -instance, and servants to Billy are like chairs to some people, -absolutely necessary." - -"We love each other," said the Watermelon simply. - -"That's all right. But you can't always be sure your love is like -elastic and stretchable. Come as a tramp and I will give my consent." -Bartlett grew bold, positively convinced that Billy could no longer care -when she had once seen the drunken sot, promised as he had grown used to -doing on the Street, to do that which he knew he would not have to do. -"I will give my consent, if Billy still can care. I know that Billy -would be a lot happier with my consent, too, than without it. For, -though the modern child has no respect for her parent's authority, she -likes to have her wedding peaceful and conventional." - -"Can I say good-by to her?" - -"Yes, but I trust you not to let her know that she is to be put to a -test. If you love her, you can see that I am right." - -"Yes," said the Watermelon, "I love her and will not let her know." - -He straightened up and pushed his hat farther back, with the slow, -inbred languor of the thoroughly lazy man. "I love Billy, and that is -why I consent. I tried to make her understand what I am, have been, but -I couldn't." He took a handful of beans from a near-by barrel and let -them run slowly through his fingers. "I suppose she will give me the -double cross." - -"I hope so," answered Bartlett. "I'm not very particular, but a -tramp--" - -"A gentleman pedestrian," suggested the Watermelon, with a faint flicker -of his usual sublime arrogance. - -Bartlett laughed and held out his hand. "Well, good-by. I've enjoyed -the week immensely, for all this rotten ending. That scurvy trick of -yours--" - -"Of yours," corrected the Watermelon. - -"Yes, yes, I suppose so. I hope that Henrietta won't ever know. Do you -think Billy does?" - -"Billy isn't as simple as you think," returned the Watermelon. - -"What did she say?" - -"'Father suggested the trip and he telegraphed after dinner,' or -something like that." - -"You didn't tell her it was my plan?" begged Bartlett. "I have to go on -living with her." - -"No, I didn't tell her, but she's next to the fact." - -"I will speak to her," said Bartlett hastily. "I wouldn't like Henrietta -to find out about it. Billy has wanted a motor boat for some time. I may -give her one." - -They walked slowly toward the door and once more shook hands. - -"I would gladly have given the thousands I have lost to have you -Batchelor, boy," said Bartlett gently. - -"Aw, thanks," said the Watermelon. - -"Tell the others I will be around when I have sent another telegram." - -The Watermelon found Billy sitting on the steps of the only hotel in -town. It was a big, square, uncompromising affair, blank and -unattractive, and Billy, alone on the top step, looked somehow small and -forlorn and child-like. The Watermelon sat down beside her. - -"Where's Henrietta?" he asked, ignoring her eyes and the question they -asked. - -"Up-stairs," said Billy, "fixing up." She raised her hands to her own -soft hair and bit her lip to get up courage to voice the question her -eyes had already asked. - -"Where's the general?" asked the Watermelon. - -Billy nodded backward. "In the office, trying to convert the landlord. -The landlord's a democrat, you know." - -"Come and walk down the road with me a bit?" asked the Watermelon. He -rose and held out his hand to help her up. - -Billy rose with a trembling laugh that failed miserably in its manifest -attempt to be brave. - -It was late afternoon, sweet and cool as they left the village behind. -The deep quiet of the last of the day was over fields and woods and -road, the heat and strenuous business of the morning done. Cows were -slowly meandering across the pastures to the familiar bars, empty teams -rattled by on the way home, the driver humped contentedly over the -reins, thinking of the day's bargains and of the supper waiting for him. -The shadows were lengthening, long and graceful across the village -green. - -Neither Billy nor the Watermelon spoke until they had left the village -some little way behind and had come to four cross-roads with the usual -small dingy school-house, door locked, dirty windows closed for the -summer and shabby, faded blinds drawn. - -Billy knew from the Watermelon's face that the interview with her father -had been far from satisfactory. She feared that the Watermelon had not -"stood up" for himself, that her speaking to her father that morning had -not helped matters as she had hoped it would. She tried to think of -something to say that would influence the boy, something she could do to -show him how she cared, so he would not think of leaving her. The -Watermelon was silent, for, now that the hour of parting had come, he -did not know what to say, could not bring himself to leave her, gay, -foolish, light-hearted Billy. - -He, however, was the first to speak. The school-house recalled -miserable days of long dull confinement, and he nodded toward it, -pausing in the grass by the wayside. "A standing monument," said he, -"to buried freedom." - -"I never went to school," said Billy. "It must be awful." - -"Awful," the Watermelon shrugged. "It's taken ten years from my life. -Schools should be abolished." - -They sat down on the tiny, weather-stained step, side by side, in the -gathering dusk. - -"Billy," began the Watermelon earnestly, and then stopped. - -Poor little Billy's heart fluttered and she put her hand to her hair in -her nervousness. "You know," she said firmly, irrelevantly, "I love you, -Jerry." - -"I know, dear," replied the Watermelon. "And I love you. No matter -where I am, Billy, no matter what happens, you are the best in me and I -will keep you best. I'm shiftless, lazy, no 'count, but Billy, kid, -I'll always love you." - -"And we will get married and live happily ever after," crooned Billy. - -"I'm going away to-night, Billy, back to the road." - -"Oh, Jerry, please, clear. If father knew how much I care--" - -"No, Billy, your father's right. He said to give you time; for me to go -away for a while and maybe you would get--over it." - -"And if I did," demanded Billy, "if I loved another, wouldn't you be -jealous? Wouldn't you kill that other, Jeroboam Martin?" She clenched -her small fist and pounded him on the knee to emphasize the passion in -her voice. - -"If he were a decent chap--" stammered the Watermelon, "it would be -better for you." - -"It's terrible," interrupted Billy, "when the girl has to do all the -loving." She pushed the hair out of her hot face and stared angrily -before her, across the road. - -"You only love me, but I love you. See the difference?" asked the -Watermelon. "It's simply impossible for your love to be as great as -mine for that reason. Your father said I could come to you the last of -August at Westhaven, and I'm coming, Billy." - -"And then we can marry, did father say that?" asked Billy, turning to -him. - -"If you care still," muttered the Watermelon. - -"Care," Billy laughed the contrary to merry scorn. "Care? Why, -Jeroboam Martin, when will I not care?" - -The Watermelon flushed and rose as the wisest course under the -circumstances. "I'm off. Say good-by to the others for me, will you, -Billy?" - -"You will be my knight," whispered Billy. "And I will be your lady, and -no knight ever went back on his lady, yet, Jeroboam." - -"You've got a darned poor knight," grunted the Watermelon. Suddenly he -turned and caught her in his arms, dragging her to him and forcing back -her head to see into her eyes. "Billy, Billy," he cried, "will you be -true to me, for ever and for ever, no matter what happens, no matter -what I do? Could you, will you love me always?" - -"Always, always," whispered Billy. - -"Dirty, drunk?" - -"Dirty and drunk and sick and always," promised Billy. "Only you won't -drink, because I love you." - -"Love never yet stood between a man and the whisky bottle," sneered the -Watermelon. "You don't know men, kid." - -He let her go and turned away with a shamed laugh. "Good-by, Billy." - -"Good-by, Jerry," replied Billy, frightened at she knew not what, -realizing that there were after all things in men's lives of which she -knew nothing. She walked with him to the fence and watched him swing -over it. - -"Cross-cuts for me," he explained, holding out his hand. She placed -hers in it and he crushed her small fingers until they hurt, then -turning abruptly, left her there among the brambles, watching him across -the bars. - - - - - *CHAPTER XXIV* - - *THE POET OR THE POODLE* - - -The day was unusually hot for late August in Maine. The grass was brown -and dry, the leaves hung limply on the trees and the dust in the roads -was ankle deep. No breeze came from the sea, while the sails of the -pleasure boats drooped in warm dejection. Every one had sought shelter -from the sun, and wharfs, streets and houses of the small seaport town -appeared deserted. - -Bartlett had taken himself off to the dim seclusion of the house, where -he lounged with windows opened, blinds drawn and a small table of -cooling beverages near at hand. The heat, the drowsy, shrill hum of the -crickets and the muffled, monotonous roar of the sea had a soothing -influence and Bartlett let his book fall from his hands and slept, -stretched at ease in the steamer chair. A door gently opening and -softly shutting aroused him. He sat up, yawned and grunted. - -"Hello," drawled a voice, slow, indifferent, familiar. - -Bartlett recalled a week in June, when, with rare credulity, he had -kidnapped a stranger and had discovered that he had been the one in -truth to be kidnapped. He turned his head and saw the Watermelon -crossing the room. He knew that it was the boy by the size of the -shoulders and the grace of the long limbs, but the thin, good-natured -face was covered with a month's growth of light hair, the brown suit -with the pale green and red stripe was a suit no longer, merely a bundle -of rags. The shirt was opened at the throat, without a tie or button, -while the panama was shapeless and colorless, but worn with the familiar -jaunty ease. - -"Ah," said Bartlett. "Jeroboam Martin." - -He smiled as one who meets an old and congenial friend, for Jeroboam -Martin had shown a fine capability for getting out of a tight place and -carrying through a desired project with success and nerve, and Bartlett -had grown to like the lad. - -"Am I bum enough?" asked the Watermelon, with no answering smile. When -one has come to test love, life is too grim for smiles. - -"You are fairly dirty and shabby," agreed Bartlett. "You look thin." - -"I have had hard luck," said the Watermelon. "How's Billy?" - -"Pretty well, thanks." - -"Expecting me?" asked the Watermelon, taking off his hat and gently -patting his back hair as he had a way of doing. - -Bartlett nodded. "Yes, but not exactly as you are." - -"It's tough on the little girl," muttered the Watermelon. He sank into -a chair and stretched out his long legs with the weather-stained -trousers and dirty, broken shoes. "Oh, mama, I'm tired. Been hoofing -it since sun-up yesterday with hardly a stop, I wanted to see the kid -so." - -"Well, go and get drunk," returned Bartlett. "And then you can see her." - -The Watermelon frowned. "See here, I don't drink, necessarily. I'm not -a brand to be plucked from the burning, a sheep strayed from the fold. -The whisky bottle wasn't my undoing and didn't make me take to the -highway. I'm not fallen. I was always down, I guess. I hate work; I -hate worry and trouble, slaving like a Swede all day for just enough -money to be an everlasting cheap guy. I like leisure and time to -develop my own soul." He waved his hand in airy imitation of James. - -"That's all right," said Bartlett. "But get drunk. If she can stand -you soused, she can stand you sober. She has got to know what she's -getting, if she decides to take you after all." - -The Watermelon's tired face grew a bit whiter under the tan and beard. -He shrugged hopelessly and rose. "All right, if you say so. I hope to -hell it will kill her love on the spot and she won't suffer for it -afterward. I suppose it will." He started for the door and paused, one -hand on the knob. "Shall I have it on you?" he asked with a smile. -"I'm broke." - -Bartlett tossed him a bill. "Is that enough?" - -"Yes," said the Watermelon and slipped it into his pocket. - -"Have one with me before you go," said Bartlett, pushing a glass and the -bottle across the table. - -The Watermelon filled his glass and raised it. "To Billy," said he. - -"To Billy's happiness," amended Bartlett. - -Maine is a prohibition state, but the Watermelon had been there before -and knew just where and how to obtain what he was looking for. With the -bottle in his pocket, he sought the beach and made his way up it to some -secluded place where he could drink in peace and out of the heat of the -sun. A sea-gull flew wheeling gracefully by to the distant cliffs, the -waves, long, purring, foam-flecked, ran indolently up the gleaming -sands, broke with a gurgling splash of seaweed and tumbled stones and -ran back to meet the next one. The ocean stretched limitless before him -and behind rose the rocks, hiding him completely from the sight of land. -With a grunt of dissatisfaction, he sat down and drew the cork of the -whisky bottle. - -As the day advanced, the sun crept around the headland until it streamed -unchecked upon the Watermelon, sprawled, drunk and warm and dirty in the -lee of the rocks. The combined heat of the sun and the poison he had in -him, called by courtesy whisky, grew unbearable, and he rose in drunken -majesty to find some cooler place. The sun would soon have thrown long -shadows on the beach, but the Watermelon could not wait for that. He -must get cool at once, and in the waves splashing, gurgling, laughing, -breaking at his very feet, he found a suggestion. Where could one get -cool if not in the sea itself? A steam yacht far away like a streak of -white, was seen creeping slowly landward, but the Watermelon did not -trouble about such a thing. He began to undress, solemnly, stubbornly, -with the one thought to get cool. - - -The yacht, _Mary Gloucester_, was a gay little bark, all ivory white and -shining brass work. A brightly striped awning covered the deck, there -were large, comfortable chairs, with many-colored pillows and ribbons -and chintz, and daintily arranged tables to assuage one's thirst and -offer cooling bodily comfort on a hot day. - -The _Mary Gloucester_ was named after a poem of Kipling's, and her owner -was explaining this fact, ensconced gracefully, if solidly, in a -many-cushioned chair, her feet a bit awkwardly on the rest before her, a -fan in one hand and a small, fat, white, woolly dog on her lap, his fore -feet on the railing, his mouth open and his tiny red tongue flapping -moistly from between his teeth. - -"Whom do you love the more," asked Bertie Van Baalen, "Kipling or this -angel child?" and Bertie sought to pull one fluffy white ear near his -hand. But the little dog snarled angrily and snapped sharply at the -hastily withdrawn fingers. - -"Ah, the duckems, naughty man shan't tease him," crooned the lady, -slapping at Bertie with the fan, while the little dog turned again to -the sea. - -"Yes, indeed, Mrs. Armitage," said Henry Bliven solemnly. "Tell us -truthfully, whom do you love the better, Kipling or the blessed -duckems?" - -"Do not hesitate or seek to spare either of their feelings," urged -Bertie. - -Mrs. Armitage laughed, fat, contented, placid. "Oh, you silly boys, -comparing a poet and a dog, a blessed little doggie." - -"I know it's hard on the dog," agreed Henry, gracefully launching a -smoke wreath upward from his fat, red lips, moist like a baby's. "No -dog would care to be compared with a thing so far beneath him as a poet, -but all the same, are you a sport or an intellect?" - -"An intellect?" questioned the lady, wrinkling her brows and gazing -puzzled at the youth in the chair beside her. - -"Are you, in other words," explained Henry, "of intellectual or sporting -tendencies?" - -"Think," warned Bertie, "before you answer. Kipling, a great poet, -author of sentiments that will stir mankind for all ages, sentiments -that will ennoble, strengthen--" - -"Do you know," confessed the widow with the gleeful naiveté of a child, -"I like Kipling because he's so bad. He says such wicked things." She -nodded and glanced audaciously from one youth to the other. - -Henry reached wearily for his glass on the table beside him and Bertie -Van Baalen sighed heavily. "You women! You make us bad. Don't you know -you do? You want us bad, so we are--anything to please you beauteous -creatures." - -"I don't want you _men_ bad, just poets," explained the widow, fanning -herself slowly, cheerfully. - -Henry waved the digression aside. "Now, tell us frankly, truthfully, -black and blue, cross your heart, do you prefer a small, dyspeptic, -overfed, snapping bundle of cotton wool which is, for the sake of -euphemism, called a dog, to one of the greatest minds of the day?" - -"Yes," said Bertie. "Suppose we sat here now, and you had the blessed -angel, mother's pet, and one volume of Kipling complete, the only book -of his in the world, and the only one there could ever be, the only book -in which we could hand on to our children and our children's children -such sublime thoughts, the only book, mind you, and if you had to throw -one or the other overboard, a piece of sticking plaster or the greatest -poet of modern times, which would it be?" - -"If I threw my blessed pet over, would you go after him, Bertie?" -demanded the widow, to whose mind a question of grave import had just -presented itself. "Henry, would you? You know how I love my dainty -little kitty kit, would you save him from cruel death for me? For my -sake?" - -"No harm," said Henry with feeling, "shall befall the angel child while -I live to protect it--her--him." - -"For your sake," said Bertie, "I would die." - -"Then," said the widow placidly, "I would sacrifice my own for the sake -of posterity. For you would rescue him for me and you wouldn't an old -book." - -"Ah, no," protested Bertie, "that was not our proposition. Neither the -book nor the latest thing in worsted--" - -There was a splash, a gurgle and a horrified scream from the widow, as -with a sudden lurch of the boat, the little dog lost his balance and -fell overboard. - -"Oh, my precious, my lamb," cried the widow. "Bertie, save him for me." - -"Yes, yes," declared Bertie, hanging over the rail and watching the -struggling dog in the water below. "Yes, yes, certainly." - -"Henry," pleaded the widow. "If you love me--" - -"Trust me," said Henry soothingly, hiding a gleam of satisfaction in his -mild blue eyes. "I will have the boat stopped." - -The widow's daughter and chaperon appeared in the companionway, flushed -and sleepy. "Mama, what _is_ the matter?" - -"Caroline, my precious lamb," and the widow motioned dramatically -seaward. "Henry, you said--" - -"I will," said Henry. "I will have the boat stopped." - -"I will do that," cried the widow. "You jump overboard and save him." - -Caroline yawned and raised her soft white hands to her tumbled hair. -"Do save him, Bertie, I'm not equal to the task of comforting mama, just -now." - -Bertie looked at his immaculate yachting clothes and hesitated. - -"Ah, you do not love me," cried the widow. "Oh, my baby, my own." - -"I love you so," said Bertie solemnly, "I refuse to leave you in your -grief even for a moment." - -A long white arm shot over the crest of a tumbled wave and was followed -by a man's head and long, thin body. The man swam well and quickly and -was making straight for the now swimming dog. - -"A rescue, a rescue," cried Henry, and added softly to himself, "Oh, -poppycock!" - - - - - *CHAPTER XXV* - - *AS HE SAID HE WOULD* - - -The widow leaned far over the side. "Oh," said she, "the man is naked." - -"As truth," agreed Bertie. "You might retire, you know." - -"I won't look," promised the widow, turning her back and peering over -her shoulder. "But is he near my lamb now? Will he, can he save him?" - -"Unfortunately, yes, mama," said Caroline. - -Bertie and Henry leaned over the rail and watched the rescue, the long, -easy strokes of the swimmer and the amusement on his face as a wave -carried the struggling dog within reach and he grabbed the little woolly -back. - -"Saved!" cried Bertie, and turned just in time to grab Mrs. Armitage, -who was also turning to see over the rail, by her fat shoulders and -whirl her around again. "Safe, dear lady, but look the other way. Our -hero is clothed in the seafoam and his own nobility, nothing else." - -Henry was already disappearing down the companionway, the yacht was -stopping and the crew standing by on the lower deck to lend assistance -to rescued and rescuer. - -The evening was warm and sultry. What little breeze there had been -during the day had gone down with the sun, while the ocean heaved and -moaned in long, green swells and ran softly whispering up the beach and -splashed against the rocks with hardly a flake of foam. The sun, -sinking behind the hills, cast long orange and pink streaks across the -waves, and turned the small white clouds overhead a dainty, rosy mass of -drifting color. - -Bartlett and Billy strolled down the winding street of the little -seaside town, out on the pier and stood idly waiting for the evening -mailboat to arrive. Henrietta and the general were coming on the -evening boat to spend the autumn in a small cottage which the general -was pleased to call his "shooting-box." But Bartlett's pleasure at -seeing Henrietta once more was mingled with worry and uneasiness over -Billy and the Watermelon. He smoked thoughtfully and watched Billy -warily, tenderly. She leaned against a pile and gazed over the vast -unrest of the ocean to the distant horizon, with dreaming, unfathomable -eyes. Bartlett knew of whom she was thinking, whom waiting for more and -more eagerly every day now as August drew to a close and still he did -not come. But this evening he had come, he was in the same -neighborhood, drunk and probably hungry. When they met, as they must -and that shortly, would he make a scene, become loud-mouthed, foul, -abusive? It would be hard on Billy, and Bartlett wished vainly that he -could spare her. But it was best that she should know, should -understand fully and with a sudden quick cut it would be over with, the -June madness when one is young and pretty and care-free. Billy would -read her folly in the bleared eyes of a shiftless fool. Yet the boy was -clever in getting out of a tight place, and Bartlett admired cleverness -intensely, not being slow himself when it came to a hard bargain. The -boy had gentle blood in his veins, too, more's the pity. It was simply -a case of a good family gone to seed. Poor little Billy and her puppy -love! A most unfortunate affair, the whole mistaken, unhappy business! - -"There comes the _Mary Gloucester_," said Billy, breaking into his -thoughts. She nodded toward the yacht, steaming majestically around the -headland, pennons gaily waving and the bright awning a splash of color -in the afterglow. - -"The _Mary Gloucester_," chuckled Bartlett. "That woman hasn't the sense -of her ugly little poodle dog." - -"I know," said Billy, "that is why I have always been so afraid of her." - -"Why afraid of her?" - -"For a mother," explained Billy unfortunately, but characteristically -saying the wrong thing. - -Bartlett flushed. "You just admitted that she was a fool. Do you think -I would marry that kind of a woman?" - -"Men always do," said Billy. "A fool's bad enough, but a fool and money -are simply irresistible." - -"You know too much for your age," said Bartlett coldly. - -"I don't exactly know it," blundered Billy. "I just see it." - -"Billy, have you ever seen me--" - -"Yes, father. That night in the pavilion at the Ainsleys'--" - -"That will do, Billy." - -Billy was hurt. "I don't mean to be nasty, father; but you asked me--" - -"There comes the mail boat," interrupted Bartlett firmly. - -Billy looked at it and sighed. It was the last of August and Jeroboam -Martin had not come. Had he forgotten her in two short months? - -Bartlett laid his hand tenderly on her shoulder. "Forget him, girlie. -He's not worthy of you." - -"He said he would come," whispered Billy. - -"If he doesn't, dear, you have me. We have stood together through -everything for eighteen years and will stand, still, eh, Billy?" - -Billy bent her head and rubbed her cheek against the hand on her -shoulder with a half laugh and a half sob. - -With the first sight of the smoke on the horizon, heralding the approach -of the principal event of the day, the arrival of the evening mail, a -crowd had begun to gather, the usual motley crowd of a summer resort on -the coast. Townspeople hung indifferently on the outskirts, while the -summer visitors, in dainty dresses and baggy trousers, sun-burnt, -jovial, indefatigable, pressed to the front. The hum of talk and -laughter grew as the crowd grew, good-natured, meaningless chatter. The -sight of the _Mary Gloucester_, steaming gracefully into port, was -greeted with a gay flutter of handkerchiefs and straw hats, and Billy -and Bartlett, standing where the yacht would dock, were soon the center -of the laughing, merry crowd, ready and eager to welcome home the stout -widow, her unfortunate chaperon and the two "supplements," as a village -wag called the fat Henry and the slim Bertie. - -As the yacht drew near, the widow's corpulent form was seen by the rail, -on one side a tall youth, and on the other, two, side by side and -apparently in no very good humor. - -"Three, by George," cried Blatts, a prosperous brewer from Milwaukee. -"She left here with two and returns with three. Where did she get him, -Bartlett?" - -But Bartlett did not answer, did not hear. The gang-plank had been -lowered and he was watching in numb fascination, the tall youth walking -beside the widow, her ridiculous dog in his arms. It was Jeroboam -Martin in an immaculate white suit of Bertie's. His hat was off and his -hair, after the swim, gleamed soft and yellow. For the sake of the -widow upon whose boat he found himself, he had shaved as well as he -could with Henry's razor, and while his cheeks were smooth enough, he -still wore a small yellow mustache and goatee. Both were brushed until -they shone like his hair and they lent a fascinating and distinctly -foreign air to his long, thin, clever face. In his arms was the little -dog with its enormous bow of sky-blue ribbon. - -Bartlett wondered if he were going mad and seeing things that were not -so. At two, or thereabouts, he had seen Martin, dirty, shabby, tired, -and had given him money on which to get drunk. At seven, a yacht, which -had not been in Westhaven for over a week, carefully deposits the youth, -clean, fresh, well-dressed at his very side. Was he mad? - -Billy, too, had seen, but did not wonder. She knew he was a tramp, for -he had said he was, but she never thought of him or pictured him other -than well-dressed, well-cared for, gently blasé and a bit languid. She -looked at him now over the heads of the intervening crowd and her heart -did not question how he came there, only rushed out to him with the -gladness in her eyes, the joyous smile on her parted lips. He had said -he would come, and there he was. Further she did not question. Their -eyes met over the heads of the people, eager questioning in his, joyful -answer in hers. - -Hastily he dropped the pup with the sky-blue bow upon the wharf, among -the plebeian feet there assembled, and reaching Billy's side through the -crowd, grabbed both small hands and stood laughing down at her. - -[Illustration: And stood laughing down at her] - -"Billy," he whispered, "Oh, you Billy." - -There was, there must be some explanation, Bartlett told himself -desperately. It could not be that this was not Martin? Bartlett had -not slept with the youth for nearly a week without being pretty familiar -with the long lank form, the thin, careless face. And it was equally -impossible that the forlorn piece of humanity who had stood that -afternoon in the drawing-room and inquired for Billy was not Martin. -They were one and the same and once more he and Billy had met on equal -footing. To ask the boy again to get drunk was an absurdity. - -"I suppose I can give him a job where he won't have much more to do than -draw his pay," thought Bartlett, hopelessly, dazedly. - -The Watermelon dropped Billy's hands and turned to her father in -well-bred greeting, but their eyes met and in the Watermelon's was grim -defiance. He had seen Billy again and nothing could part them now. All -his humility and repentance had gone, and in their place was his -old-time arrogance and sublime self-assurance. Fate in the form of a -little white dog had brought him and Billy together again, with the -Watermelon, still clean, still well-dressed, and to all outward -appearances the same as the other gay youths of Billy's acquaintance. -With head up, jaw shut, he scorned to lower himself for any one. He -would prove himself worthy, not unworthy of Billy. Out of his -repentance had grown his manhood. He was no nameless hobo of the great -army of the unemployed. He was Jeroboam Martin, son of the late -Reverend Mr. Martin, in temporary financial embarrassment that could be -soon remedied. He would work for Billy and they would be happy on his -wages. He drew himself up and held out his hand. Bartlett could take -it or not as he pleased. The Watermelon had sought or desired no man's -favor, and Jeroboam Martin would not stoop to do so. - -For one second the two stared at each other grimly, square jaws shut, -lips unsmiling, then Bartlett's hand shot forth and he clasped the -Watermelon's. - -"Ah, Martin," said he, "how are you, boy?" - -And still holding him by the hand, he patted the Watermelon on his arm, -jovially. After all he liked the boy, and right or wrong, wise or -foolish, fate was against any other action, fate in the form of a -half-drowned poodle dog. - -The Watermelon rested his arm on Bartlett's shoulder with boyish -affection. "Say, Bartlett," said he in a low voice, "I got drunk, -honest to rights. But it was so blamed hot, I cooled off in the ocean -before I knew what I was about and that sobered me up again. Then I saw -something fall from the yacht and I thought it was a kid from the noise -they were making, not just a pup. I swam out to help and of course they -hauled me on board, and now the widow is planning to marry me." - -Bartlett roared. "Say, boy, er--er--maybe you need a loan until I can -see about that job for you." - -Once more their eyes met and this time in complete and tender accord. - -"You're all right," whispered the Watermelon, his face softening. "And -don't you worry about Billy," he added, "I'll take care of her." - - - - - THE END - - - - - - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HE COMES UP SMILING *** - - - - -A Word from Project Gutenberg - - -We will update this book if we find any errors. - -This book can be found under: http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/45136 - -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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