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- float: left; - margin-right: 1em } - -.align-right { clear: right; - float: right; - margin-left: 1em } - -.align-center { margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto } - -div.shrinkwrap { display: table; } - -/* SECTIONS */ - -body { margin: 5% 10% 5% 10% } - -/* compact list items containing just one p */ -li p.pfirst { margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0 } - -.first { margin-top: 0 !important; - text-indent: 0 !important } -.last { margin-bottom: 0 !important } - -span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } -img.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; max-width: 25% } -span.dropspan { font-variant: small-caps } - -.no-page-break { page-break-before: avoid !important } - -/* PAGINATION */ - -.pageno { position: absolute; right: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.pageno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.lineno { position: absolute; left: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.lineno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.toc-pageref { float: right } - -@media screen { - .coverpage, .frontispiece, .titlepage, .verso, .dedication, .plainpage - { margin: 10% 0; } - - div.clearpage, div.cleardoublepage - { margin: 10% 0; border: none; border-top: 1px solid gray; } - - .vfill { margin: 5% 10% } -} - -@media print { - div.clearpage { page-break-before: always; padding-top: 10% } - div.cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 10% } - - .vfill { margin-top: 20% } - h2.title { margin-top: 20% } -} - -/* DIV */ -pre { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } - -</style> -<title>HE COMES UP SMILING</title> -<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" /> -<meta name="PG.Title" content="He Comes Up Smiling" /> -<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Al Haines" /> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<meta name="DC.Creator" content="Charles Sherman" /> -<meta name="DC.Created" content="1912" /> -<meta name="MARCREL.ill" content="Arthur William Brown" /> -<meta name="PG.Id" content="45136" /> -<meta name="PG.Released" content="2014-03-14" /> -<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" /> -<meta name="DC.Title" content="He Comes Up Smiling" /> - -<link href="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" rel="schema.DCTERMS" /> -<link href="http://id.loc.gov/vocabulary/relators" rel="schema.MARCREL" /> -<meta content="He Comes Up Smiling" name="DCTERMS.title" /> -<meta content="smiling.rst" name="DCTERMS.source" /> -<meta content="en" scheme="DCTERMS.RFC4646" name="DCTERMS.language" /> -<meta content="2014-03-14T18:06:29.973671+00:00" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.modified" /> -<meta content="Project Gutenberg" name="DCTERMS.publisher" /> -<meta content="Public Domain in the USA." name="DCTERMS.rights" /> -<link href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/45136" rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" /> -<meta content="Charles Sherman" name="DCTERMS.creator" /> -<meta content="Arthur William Brown" name="MARCREL.ill" /> -<meta content="2014-03-14" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.created" /> -<meta content="width=device-width" name="viewport" /> -<meta content="EpubMaker 0.3.20 by Marcello Perathoner <webmaster@gutenberg.org>" name="generator" /> -</head> -<body> -<div class="document" id="he-comes-up-smiling"> -<h1 class="center document-title level-1 pfirst title"><span class="x-large">HE COMES UP SMILING</span></h1> - -<!-- this is the default PG-RST stylesheet --> -<!-- figure and image styles for non-image formats --> -<!-- default transition --> -<!-- default attribution --> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="align-None container language-en pgheader" id="pg-header" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>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 </span><a class="reference internal" href="#project-gutenberg-license">Project Gutenberg License</a><span> -included with this eBook or online at -</span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a><span>.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None container" id="pg-machine-header"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Title: He Comes Up Smiling -<br /> -<br />Author: Charles Sherman -<br /> -<br />Release Date: March 14, 2014 [EBook #45136] -<br /> -<br />Language: English -<br /> -<br />Character set encoding: UTF-8</span></p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-start-line"><span>*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>HE COMES UP SMILING</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Al Haines.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p> -</div> -<div class="align-None container titlepage"> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="x-large">HE COMES UP -<br />SMILING</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics medium">By</em></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="large">CHARLES SHERMAN</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY -<br />ARTHUR WILLIAM BROWN</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">INDIANAPOLIS -<br />THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY -<br />PUBLISHERS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None container verso"> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">COPYRIGHT 1912 -<br />THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">PRESS OF -<br />BRAUNWORTH & CO. -<br />BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS -<br />BROOKLYN. N. Y.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">HE COMES UP SMILING</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CONTENTS</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span class="small">CHAPTER</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"><span class="medium">I </span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#the-beauty-contest">The Beauty Contest</a><span class="medium"> -<br />II </span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#a-close-shave">A Close Shave</a><span class="medium"> -<br />III </span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#enter-mr-batchelor">Enter Mr. Batchelor</a><span class="medium"> -<br />IV </span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#and-when-i-dine">And When I Dine</a><span class="medium"> -<br />V </span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#a-plan-and-a-telegram">A Plan and a Telegram</a><span class="medium"> -<br />VI </span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#what-is-heaven-like">What Is Heaven Like</a><span class="medium"> -<br />VII </span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#watermelon-yields">Watermelon Yields</a><span class="medium"> -<br />VIII </span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#gratitude-is-a-flower">Gratitude Is a Flower</a><span class="medium"> -<br />IX </span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#on-the-road">On the Road</a><span class="medium"> -<br />X </span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#the-deserted-house">The Deserted House</a><span class="medium"> -<br />XI </span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#a-night-s-lodging">A Night's Lodging</a><span class="medium"> -<br />XII </span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#the-key-to-the-situation">The Key to the Situation</a><span class="medium"> -<br />XIII </span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#only-to-be-lost">Only to be Lost</a><span class="medium"> -<br />XIV </span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#billy-billy-everywhere">Billy, Billy Everywhere</a><span class="medium"> -<br />XV </span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#love-in-idleness">Love in Idleness</a><span class="medium"> -<br />XVI </span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#a-thief-in-the-night">A Thief in the Night</a><span class="medium"> -<br />XVII </span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#alphonse-rides-away">Alphonse Rides Away</a><span class="medium"> -<br />XVIII </span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#oh-for-a-horse">Oh, For a Horse</a><span class="medium"> -<br />XIX </span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#a-broker-prince">A Broker Prince</a><span class="medium"> -<br />XX </span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#the-seven-o-clock-express">The Seven O'Clock Express</a><span class="medium"> -<br />XXI </span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#rich-and-poor-alike">Rich and Poor Alike</a><span class="medium"> -<br />XXII </span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#the-truth-at-last">The Truth At Last</a><span class="medium"> -<br />XXIII </span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#back-to-the-road">Back to the Road</a><span class="medium"> -<br />XXIV </span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#the-poet-or-the-poodle">The Poet or the Poodle</a><span class="medium"> -<br />XXV </span><a class="medium reference internal" href="#as-he-said-he-would">As He Said He Would</a></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-beauty-contest"><span class="bold x-large">HE COMES UP SMILING</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER I</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE BEAUTY CONTEST</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"You have a phiz on yer," said the -Watermelon with rare candor, "that -would make a mangy pup unhappy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose you think yer Venus," sneered -James, a remark that he flattered himself was -rather "classy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Watermelon sighed as one would over -the ignorance of a child. "No," said he, -"hardly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't let that bloomin' modesty of yers -keep yer from tellin' the truth," adjured James.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Watermelon waved the possibility aside -with airy grace. "With all due modesty, -James," said he, "I can't claim to be a woman."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"When I was a kid, I took a prize in a -beauty show," announced James, with pardonable pride.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Swiped it?" asked the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dog show?" inquired Mike drowsily, listening -to the pleasing drone of a bee in a near-by -clump of daisies.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Longside of me," said the Watermelon, -"you'd look like a blear-eyed son of a toad."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You! Why, you'd make a balky horse run, -you would."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>James was skeptical. "Did y' ever take a -prize in a beauty show?" he demanded, still -musing upon those bygone honors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Huh," sneered James. "My folks was of -the bon-ton."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The bon-tons never broke any records in -the beauty line," replied the Watermelon. -"And the bon-tonnier they are, the uglier."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Beauty," said James with charming -naiveté, "runs in my family."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>James fondled the short stiff hair on his -cheeks and chin and waited for developments.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Watermelon went on. "We will meet -this afternoon, here, see? Shaved and with -decent duds on. And Mike can pick the winner."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mike! He can't tell a sick cat from a well -one."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's all right. He knows enough to tell -the best lookin' one between you and me. A -</span><em class="italics">blind</em><span> mug could do that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aw, who's goin' to hurt the jerkwater -town?" demanded the Watermelon with indignation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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'."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We ain't goin' to hurt the burg none," said -James.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure," agreed the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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 </span><em class="italics">homo</em><span>, for all the rags -and tatters that served as clothes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There ain't going to be no show," said Mike -firmly. "Not if yer have to swipe the duds. I -ain't going—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There ain't no cops around this place, you -mutt," contradicted the Watermelon with the -delicate courtesy of the road.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There's a sheriff—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sheriffs," interrupted James coldly, "ain't -never around until the job's done."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aw, stow it!" snapped the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We ain't going to get pinched," said James. -"You make more talk over two suits of -clothes—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But they might—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Might what? Might be bloomin' fools like -you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where are you goin' to be shaved?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In a barber shop," said James mildly. -"You probably favor a lawn-mower, but -personally I prefer a barber."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," wailed Mike, "go to a barber shop -and let every guy in town get his lamps on yer—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-close-shave"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER II</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">A CLOSE SHAVE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hello," said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hello," said the barber.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose you are a guest from the hotel up -to the lake?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Watermelon grinned. He recognized -James' favorite role. "No," said he cheerfully, -"I'm John D., and me car is waiting -without."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said the Watermelon. "I don't like -fishing, baiting the hook is such darned hard -work."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just back," went on the barber, still quoting, -his soul yet rankling with the deceit of -man. "Look like a tramp, probably—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Am one," grinned the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And you thought you would get a shave as -you passed through the village, wouldn't dare -let your wife see you—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say," interrupted the Watermelon wearily, -"what are you giving us? Did any one bunko -you out of a shave with that lingo?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure," said Harry importantly. "I passed -the feller as I was coming down and there ain't -any one like him to the hotel."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We are wise now," said the barber ruefully, -and added sternly, "If you want a shave, -you've got to show your money first."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's near the lookin'-glass," said the -Watermelon. "He went close to the counter to see -himself, didn't he?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," admitted the barber slowly. "He did -look at himself for a long time."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And some of the time your back was -turned," added the Watermelon. "You were -probably cleaning up or looking for a whisk."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll bet he did," said the Watermelon. "Do -you take me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But they can't be busted," reiterated the -barber.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then why the devil don't you bet?" demanded -the Watermelon. "You are bettin' on -a sure thing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, go on. Don't be scared," encouraged -Wilton's gay youth in joyful chorus.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The barber started for his precious register, -but the Watermelon reached it first and laid -his hand on it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There ain't no one there," exclaimed the -barber.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aw, go on," urged Harry, who was a -sport. "What are you afraid of?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He couldn't have picked it," insisted the -barber, whose faith in his register was really -sublime.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Harry and the others stepped forward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How much has been registered?" asked the -Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Three, sixty," announced Harry in some -trepidation, lest he be flatly and promptly -corrected.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The barber reached for the slip and added it -on his own account. "Three, sixty," he agreed, -and sighed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Count the cash," ordered the Watermelon, -and Harry counted, slowly, carefully, laboriously, -and the rest counted with him, more or -less audibly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the last coin had been counted, there -was a moment of puzzled silence. The -Watermelon broke it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Three, thirty-five," said he. "What did I -tell you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Here," snapped the barber, "let me count it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Three dollars and thirty-five cents," said -the Watermelon again, like the voice of doom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, I vum!" exclaimed Harry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How'd he do it?" asked the grocer's son, -with an eye out for possibly similar -emergencies nearer home.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He said it was automatic bookkeeping," -moaned the barber, glaring at the slip that -would register nothing less than three dollars -and sixty cents.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The bookkeeping's all right," said the -Watermelon, "it's the money that ain't."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He gathered up the coins, slowly, lovingly, -and the barber turned away from the painful -sight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you want a shave?" he asked crossly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="enter-mr-batchelor"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER III</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">ENTER MR. BATCHELOR</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Home, Henry," said he languidly to an -imaginary chauffeur.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hello, William," answered the Watermelon, -wondering why they called him Thomas.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old gentleman flushed angrily and the -lady laughed, a delightful laugh of girlish -amusement. The Watermelon smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We are a Packard," explained the old -gentleman stiffly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you?" said the Watermelon, wholly -unimpressed by the information. "Well, I -ain't a Thomas."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I called you by the name of your car," said -the old gentleman. "I surmise that you have -not had one long."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't feel as if I owned it now," the -Watermelon admitted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old gentleman was vaguely disappointed. -"Can you run your machine?" he -asked, hopeful of a reply in the negative.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where is your chauffeur?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I haven't one," said the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Probably," admitted the Watermelon, -alighting and peering into the engine beside the -old gentleman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father," suggested the lady gently, "maybe -you had better let Alphonse—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alphonse, sure of the reply, made no move -to alight and assist.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His words trailed off into vague mutterings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes," agreed the Watermelon vaguely, -and got the wrench from the tool-box as -directed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Automobiles," said the lady, "are like the -modern schoolmarms, always breaking down."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Like hoboes," suggested the Watermelon, -"always broke."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old gentleman straightened up. "There -is something the matter with the gasolene -inlet valve," he announced firmly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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:</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I must get under the car."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Maybe it's all right," suggested the -Watermelon, who did not like the idea of being -forced to go after him with the tools.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There is no gasolene."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never mind," said the Watermelon. "I -can hoof it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hoof it!" The old gentleman was pained -and hurt. "Hoof it, when I have my car right -here! No, indeed. Alphonse, get the rope."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Watermelon protested. "Aw, really, -you know—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Weren't you going to the hotel?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was thinking some of it. But the car—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have a young mug," explained the Watermelon -modestly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The general looked a bit startled. Henrietta -laughed. She had always wanted to meet a -man in the making.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope that if you have no other -engagement, you will dine with us," said she.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly," cried the general. "Have you -a previous appointment?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"With myself," said the Watermelon. "To dine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will dine with us," declared the -general, and that settled it. "Get into my car. -Alphonse will steer yours."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="and-when-i-dine"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">AND WHEN I DINE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Henrietta turned sidewise that she -might the better converse with her guest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I never work when I can rest," said the -Watermelon truthfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But I am not a stock-broker," explained -the Watermelon, with his candid, boyish smile. -"I'm a lamb."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Henrietta laughed. "But not fleeced," said -she gaily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not yet," admitted the Watermelon, wondering -if William Hargrave Batchelor was still -enjoying his swim.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't like the country yourself, father, -except in the summer," objected Henrietta.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Three, ten," chuckled the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, yes, three millions. Have you ever -lived in the country?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, off and on," said the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If the bites ain't too plentiful."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Henrietta laughed. "You can't do it, -Mr. Batchelor," said she.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Make us believe that you are as lazy as you -are trying to."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If I can't do it, I won't try," laughed the -Watermelon. "But you can't do it, either."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't I look like him?" asked Henrietta, -wishing that she had not made the conversation -quite so personal thus early in their acquaintance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You look like him," admitted the Watermelon, -"but—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For his granddaughter," said the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of course," said the general, aloud, "Maine -has fine shooting in winter."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"None of Maine for mine," declared the -Watermelon conclusively. "Maine is a -prohibition state."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The general frowned. "You don't drink, I -hope, young man?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There are the Bartletts now," cried -Henrietta, as the train of cars approached the -porch. "Poor dears, we have kept them waiting."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wonder," said the Watermelon, "why a -guy always gets so hungry on Sunday."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nothing else to do," suggested Henrietta, -"but eat."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aw, don't bother," protested the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tush, tush, man, it is no bother," and the -general turned to the coldly respectful Alphonse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Henrietta had started toward the steps and -the Watermelon turned to follow her, when he -saw </span><em class="italics">her</em><span> 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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Billy," said Henrietta, "we have had an -adventure and picked up another guest. Miss -Bartlett, Mr. Batchelor."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Were you part of the adventure?" asked -Billy, holding out her hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said the Watermelon, incapable of -further speech.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"William Hargrave Batchelor?" he murmured -questioningly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He is a young one to beat us, Bartlett. We -ought to be Oslerized."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes," said the Watermelon absent-mindedly, -thinking of the girl with the single -dimple and the turned-up nose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father took me, once," said Billy. "It was -terrible. Are you a broker, Mr. Batchelor?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Haven't you read yesterday's papers, -Billy?" exclaimed Henrietta.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I never read the papers," admitted Billy, -with a charming smile. "Just the front page -head-lines, sometimes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," cried Billy, "that's where father lost -so much. He told me this morning, just as we -left the house—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, papa," protested Billy, "you said—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come to dinner, everybody, please," interrupted -Henrietta, in response to an appealing -glance from Bartlett. "I am starving whether -you others are or not."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-plan-and-a-telegram"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER V</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">A PLAN AND A TELEGRAM</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was a hash-slinger once," said he, gazing -at her across the table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her small nose wrinkled with pleasure and -the single dimple flashed forth and was gone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You blacked boots, too, I believe?" questioned -Bartlett, the results of that unfortunate -cotton deal he had participated in still rankling. -"Quite interesting."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Watermelon had ears only for Billy. -She spoke and it was as if the others had been -silent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Was it fun?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes," drawled the Watermelon sarcastically. -"It was fun all right. Everybody -wanted to be waited on first and everybody -wanted the white meat."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did they do when they didn't get -waited on?" asked Billy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What'd he say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He said that might be, but we didn't -remain equal."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did you say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not?" asked Billy, eagerly amused.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why didn't you do it, then?" asked Billy, -whose ideas of vengeance were young and -drastic.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Too much work," explained the Watermelon. -"If I wasn't extra strong, I wouldn't -have been able to break what I did."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I presume you return to the city to-night?" -questioned Bartlett.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me some other things you have done," -teased Billy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have W.H.B.," wrote Bartlett. "Will -take him for a week's tour in the country, with -Billy's help. Eat them up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Rush it," he ordered sternly, "and bring -me the answer. I will wait for it on the porch."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said the Watermelon. "I would not -invest in copper."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have you any copper?" questioned another -with a wink that the great man was caught.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How could you tear yourself away from -the Street?" asked one impressionable young -thing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Henrietta laughed. "Poor Mr. Batchelor," -said she. "You can now realize some of the -drawbacks to greatness."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The tariff," said the Watermelon monotonously, -"is all right. Take it from me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes, indeed," said Billy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He caught her hands and swung her down -to the lawn beside him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="what-is-heaven-like"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">WHAT IS HEAVEN LIKE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Say," said he, "what do those guys take -me for? The editor of the 'Answer to -correspondents' page?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I bet you know as much," said Billy with -artless simplicity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Billy laughed. "Didn't you ever go to -school?" she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I went to school, when father didn't -forget."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Didn't forget?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who was your father?" asked Billy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why," cried Billy, "the papers said he used -to be a policeman."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought you didn't read the papers?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't, just the Sunday supplements," said -Billy frankly, as one to whom his intellectual -development is of minor importance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Watermelon wheeled over with a laugh -and caught her hand. "Hang dad!" he -exclaimed. "Where'd you get your name?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She jerked her hand away and laughed, her -small nose wrinkled, the dimple coming and -going. "Don't you like it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure. It's classy, all right. But what is -the long of it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wilhelmina. Dad's is William, just like -yours. We're all Billies."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mine ain't William," sneered the Watermelon, -edging a bit nearer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her eyes opened and she stared in frank -surprise. "But the papers say—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I guess you can lie faster than the papers," -said she.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should think if your father was a minister -that he wouldn't lie," said Billy severely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because there couldn't be, he used to say."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't you believe in Heaven?" demanded Billy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure," said the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you think it's like?" asked Billy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A watermelon patch," said the Watermelon -promptly. "Just when all the fruit is ripe. -Don't you think so?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think it's an ice-cream counter," said -Billy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Naw. At an ice-cream counter you would -have to have money."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not in Heaven, you wouldn't," said Billy. -"It would all be free and you could have as -much as you wanted."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who would wait on you? Any one could -pick a watermelon, but everybody can't mix -an ice-cream soda."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The bad people would. That would be hell, -you see, always serving it to others and never -allowed to taste any."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should think that would be monotonous," -said Billy. "Do they talk?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure, they talk. Heaven ain't a deaf and -dumb asylum."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should think they would get talked out -during eternity."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah," said the Watermelon, leaning a bit -nearer, "eternity is but a minute."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do they talk about?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Heaven."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are they angels?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One is."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Billy laughed. "Who are you?" she asked, -leaning toward him, one hand resting on the -log between them, her steady eyes on his face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Watermelon again drew forth the card -case, extracted a card and presented it to her -with a flourish.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, you see, I am a minister's son, and -I had Heaven with every meal, as it were."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Maybe that's it," agreed Billy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A stick snapped behind them as though some -one were approaching their retreat with -stealthy tread under cover of the friendly -bushes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you afraid of cows?" asked Billy, -glancing over her shoulder fearfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not of female cows," said the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A stick snapped again, nearer, and a -woodpecker fled from a group of trees, scolding -angrily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Billy rose nervously. "If that's a male cow—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sit down," ordered the Watermelon. "It's -no cow, unfortunately. It's the general."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't you like the general?" asked Billy, -sitting down again, but ready to rise quickly, -instantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I like him, but I don't think I would -if I were a motor-car."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did your father used to say that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, he never had any cause to. We never -were polite."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Billy glanced around. "I thought I heard -some one cough."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So did I. It can't be the general. He -wouldn't cough."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We really ought to go," said Billy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right, but don't run off until I've—I've -cured that cough, will you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hist," cautioned the boy, before the -Watermelon could speak. "I want to tell you -something important."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right, spit it out and be quick about it," -ordered the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gwan, spit it out," ordered the Watermelon. -"I ain't keen for the pleasure of -hearing any of your heart to heart secrets."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's very important," said the boy, "and no -one must hear."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose you think every one is busting to -hear your words of wisdom," said the -Watermelon. "Probably get a dime a word, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who are you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The telegraph clerk," whispered the boy, -with a frightened glance toward Billy on the log.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bartlett sent this, eh?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Didn't you send it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I had to. You see he stood right -there. But just as soon as he went, I lit out to -find you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where is he now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Huh," said the boy, reddening with the -praise of the great man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure," cried the boy. "Course I understand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Watermelon handed him a quarter. -"When I reach New York," said he airily, "I'll -send you me check for a thousand."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="watermelon-yields"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">WATERMELON YIELDS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who was it?" asked Billy, looking up as -the Watermelon approached.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The telegraph clerk," said the Watermelon -calmly. "A telegram—and he brought it to me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He made no motion to sit down and Billy rose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I like the general," said Billy, as they -started slowly back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You said relatives were afflictions," -objected Billy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know; but it is only through our afflictions -that we can rise to higher things."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What higher things?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Heaven, as I described it last."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Go ahead," said the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I understand a car thoroughly, Henrietta," -said the general. "I have always been fond of -mechanics."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Thank God, he's a general," whispered the -Watermelon into the small ear of Billy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Assured that Alphonse was attending to the -gasolene, the general withdrew his invaluable -supervision and turned to the others.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We spent a week in the car last summer, -and we intended to do it again this year, but -have somehow put it off."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's perfectly delightful," said Henrietta. -"You wonder how you ever tolerated a train."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is tramping idealized," declared Bartlett.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's dandy," cried Billy. "Daddy, do you -remember that time we went from Maine -straight down the coast to Maryland?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, I've been around some," admitted the -Watermelon modestly. "But never in a car."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You should try it, my dear sir," said -Bartlett. "Upon my word, you have no idea how -fascinating it is."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I never owned a car."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You do now," laughed Henrietta. "Now's -your chance."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've no one to go with," replied the -Watermelon innocently, smiling down at Henrietta -on the car step and not looking at Bartlett.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can take us all," laughed Billy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It sounds alluring," said Henrietta. "Suppose -we all go, just as we are!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But the general and Henrietta," objected -Bartlett. "They only ran up here for the day, -my dear. They may not have anything."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh!" exclaimed Billy. "Do let's do it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was thinking of it," acknowledged the -Watermelon, with truth, lounging gracefully -in the doorway.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bartlett laughed. "We are crazy, all of us," -said he and waved the suggestion aside as a -whimsical fancy best forgotten.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Daddy, please," teased Billy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, Billy, child, the others don't want to -do it, the general or Batchelor."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The general's attention had wandered back -to the car. He turned abstractedly. "Do what, -Henrietta?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Take a trip in the car for a week or two."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, we must plan one later, as we did last -summer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But we mean now, father, start right now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now? Henrietta, you're foolish, my dear."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, indeed, father. Why not now? 'Do it -now' is your favorite motto, you know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is impossible," and the general, also, -dismissed the subject.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bartlett thrust his hands in his pockets and -appeared absorbed in his car. He knew Billy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said the general, smiling into her -pretty face. "But what about clothes?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Clothes," laughed Billy, "why, clothes—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Be hanged," said the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bartlett laughed. "Quite so. Wash out on -the line, general. Better come."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pretend the Indians have risen," said -Henrietta, "and you are given an hour to get -into marching order."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What do you know about it, puss?" asked -the general.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Didn't you?" pleaded Billy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So you will go? I knew you would."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But Mr. Batchelor may have to return to -the city," suggested Henrietta, glancing at the -Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You don't have to return to the city, do -you? You would much rather go with us, -wouldn't you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Swollen fortunes are a crime nowadays," -said Henrietta, smiling her odd, half gay, half -tender smile.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We will start to-night," said Billy. "It -will be beautiful. In the night, driving is -perfectly lovely, you know, Mr. Batchelor."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, indeed," said Bartlett. "I have interests -in New York, myself, that I want to keep -an eye on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Billy laid her hand on his arm. "Won't you -come?" she teased.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Watermelon looked down, under the -brim of her hat, into the gray-green eyes and -smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," he said simply. "I would like to."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="gratitude-is-a-flower"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">GRATITUDE IS A FLOWER</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aw, wake up," he growled. "I want your -rare intelligence to unbosom me sorrowful -and heavy heart to."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No one would take you, not even a kodak," -sneered James, scowling before him moodily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aw, jealous of a kid! Who? Me? Not -on your tin-type."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You say so, James. We all deny the -werminous cancers that gnaw our vitals. But look -into your own heart, question yourself—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aw, pound yer ear," snapped James.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Some one was heard approaching and Mike -paused from cleaning the blade of his knife -in the ground before him to listen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mike laid his hand on his heart again, -removed his hat, and standing aside for the -youth to pass, bowed low.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Me lud," said he in humble salutation.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 66%" id="figure-46"> -<span id="me-lud-he-said-in-humble-salutation"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""Me lud," he said in humble salutation" src="images/img-096.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"Me lud," he said in humble salutation</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You'll get three years for this," said he -cheerfully, and put his pipe back into his -mouth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Three nothing," sneered the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Watermelon drew himself up to his full -height, threw back his shoulders and fastidiously -adjusted his cuffs, with their heavy gold -links.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"With every passing moment, more beautiful," -murmured Mike.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>James snorted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," asked the Watermelon, "who gets -the prize?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"True nobility," said Mike, "is in them words."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aw, cut the gas!" growled James. -"Where'd you get the blooming outfit?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I win, do I?" persisted the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mike's the judge," returned James, losing -interest in what was too obviously a one-sided -contest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Watermelon nodded, James grunted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aw," growled James, "this ain't no show. -We will have another."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm starting for a motor tour with some of -me friends," said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I," said Mike, "have always felt for you -as for a dear and only son."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gwan," said James imperiously. "Where -did you get the glad rags?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For you," said Mike, "I would give me -immortal soul."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I want something more than that, Mike," -said the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Me plug of baccy?" asked Mike with feeling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't be a fool," advised James. "He's all -right. Nothing will happen to him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aw, don't go and do that," pleaded Mike. -"He'll have youse arrested—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Maybe," said James gloomily. "Hardly, -if you give that bloke his clothes before you -need to."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're a damn fool," said James shortly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He's all right," argued Mike, meaning the -man in the forest shades. "What can hurt him?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know, but he's mighty uncomfortable. -Can't sit down, maybe, and there may be flies -and mosquitoes—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Naw," protested Mike. "He's just comfortable. -If it was the style, I would like to -have gone naked to-day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He'll have the police after youse," warned -James, "as soon as he can reach the village."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure he will. Gratitude is a flower," said -Mike grandiloquently, "that I have never -picked."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And never will," added James with grim -pessimism.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For you," said Mike, "I'd give me heart's -blood."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where do we find this pond?" asked James.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Trust me," said Mike, lovingly concealing -the greenback in the dark dirty recesses of his -rags.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hello," said Mike facetiously. "Going -in?" and he nodded casually backward to the lake.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Been in," chattered the miserable wretch, -trying to control his teeth so that he could say -more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oughtn't to stay in too long," advised -James solicitously. "Your lips look blue."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bad for the heart," said Mike.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We ain't ladies," added James with -delicacy. "You might come out from them bushes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you see him?" asked James.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No—no—no. But who else could have -stolen them?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The stranger waved the question aside. -"Get me some clothes and I'll give you some -money."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What money?" asked James.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I didn't see no car," said Mike.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you come by the road?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, a narrow wood road."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes; that's where I left it. The damned -thief has probably gone off with my car, too."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Then he couldn't be a tramp," said James -judiciously. "Tramps don't know nothing -about motor-cars."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Maybe he took it up to the hotel," said -Mike, cheerfully helpful.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The stranger shook his head. "No, he -wouldn't do that. He would get out of the -country as fast as he could."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If there wasn't no gasolene," suggested -James tentatively.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes, it was," cried the stranger. -"What was the make? Could you tell?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A Thomas car—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I," said Mike, tapping himself on his breast, -"am George V., of England."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How much," asked Mike, "will you give me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Us," corrected James.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How much do you want?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How much will you give?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ten dollars."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For a suit of clothes?" Mike's fat red face -depicted his horror.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Twenty," cried the stranger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Apiece?" asked James.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Apiece," declared the unhappy youth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Apiece, James," said Mike, turning -inquiringly to his companion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Make it thirty," said James, "and we may -be able to help you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All right, thirty apiece. Get me the clothes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You might write us each a check," suggested -James, and drew forth the pen and -check-book.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For innocence," groaned Mike, "commend -me to me loving comrade, James."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your names?" he asked, opening the book -and resting it against a tree for support.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Better put 'to bearer,'" said James. "Simplicity -is always the best."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I see," said the stranger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Payable in advance," said James.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How much for the car?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mike raised his hands to Heaven. "The -car? James, does he think we stole his car?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A stock-broker," said James, "would -suspect his own mother."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you want youse car," said Mike, "go to -the hotel."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bah," snapped the stranger. "Do you -think I was weaned yesterday? Be quick and -tell me your price."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have no price," said Mike proudly, not -sure where the car was.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes," said Mike, "I understand. When -I was young I learned English, foolishly, as I -haven't used it since."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Very well, then," snapped the stranger. "I -see that you won't tell. Remember, I gave you -your chance."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope the kid ain't pinched," said James, -after a while.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mike sighed and shook his head. "Grand -larceny," he murmured. "That's gratitude for -you."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="on-the-road"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">ON THE ROAD</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Friends of mine," said he. "I go there -every fall."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The general rose to get his blue book. "We -will look it up," said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bartlett stopped him. The town was not in -the book. He knew, for he had tried to find it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We don't want to locate it," said Bartlett, -growing stern and cross of a necessity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They found the cars waiting at the steps and -a small crowd to see them off and wile away -the time before supper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Three cars might come in handy," protested -the general, who objected to every suggestion -not his own, on principle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why?" asked Bartlett coldly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Mr. Batchelor might become offended at us -and want to ride by himself," suggested -Henrietta, laughing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Henrietta flushed, the Watermelon laughed -and the general looked pained at the thought -of any possible lack of congeniality.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear Billy," said Bartlett, "the third -auto would be extremely handy for you and -your tongue, at least."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Billy glanced miserably from one to the -other. "Why, Daddy, you told me, yesterday—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have told you many things," said Bartlett, -"both yesterday and the day before."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Billy nudged the Watermelon to call his -attention to the two weary figures by the wayside.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poor fellows," said Henrietta softly, lest -they hear her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," agreed Billy. "They may be perfectly -dandy fellows."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Assuredly," laughed Henrietta. "The stout -one fairly radiated truth and nobility, a manly, -upright youth."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Nor his manners," laughingly retorted -Henrietta.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think your father was a cynic," said -Henrietta sharply, into whose ears Billy had been -recounting the sayings of the absent divine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," admitted the Watermelon, "he was."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cynicism is a sign of failure," quoted -Henrietta. "Surely your father wasn't a cynic."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your father was a philosopher," laughed -Henrietta. "I would like to have met him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought the papers said—" began Billy, -in her slow, anxious way to get things right.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, they did," interrupted the -Watermelon, "and they were right."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's the place," said he. "We can spend -the night there and get one of the best chicken -breakfasts I ever ate."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wake up and hear the birds sing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ghosts," whispered the general.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, hush," pleaded Billy. "There is no -need of fooling with things like that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This house ain't lived in," said the Watermelon, -as he slipped from the car to straighten -his cramped legs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There isn't any one here," insisted the -Watermelon, "asleep or awake."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The general climbed out. "If we had -consulted the book—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Besides," said Bartlett, "we don't know -that the Higginses have gone!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-deserted-house"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER X</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE DESERTED HOUSE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Wonderful, wonderful!" murmured -Henrietta in the tones of the -famous Watson.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hold on a shake," said the Watermelon. -"I will get in a window and open the door."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We had better not," objected Henrietta, -"Wouldn't that be house-breaking?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Watermelon immediately jumped to the -porch, disdaining the few steps, and disappeared -behind the vines which covered one end -and concealed the window.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ghosts," said Henrietta.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Billy pinched her. "If you think there are -ghosts in there, Henrietta, I simply won't go in."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly there are ghosts," said Henrietta. -"There always are in empty houses. Where -else do you find them?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We will return to the village," declared the -general, "and get something to eat. I will get -the book—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An empty house is better than the countryside," -said Bartlett. "And we have plenty to -eat in that basket Henrietta put up."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If there is something to eat—" wavered the -general.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where did you get the lamp?" asked the -general as the Watermelon led the way in.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father," said she, "in all our lives, we have -never had an adventure before, because you -persist in using those blue books."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The general laughed and helped himself to -a sandwich.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you know what I am looking for?" she -asked, glancing at him, her eyes full of mischief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For the family silver," said the Watermelon. -"We might as well take some souvenir -of our visit."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You should do something to earn yours," -said she.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What is mine?" he asked, trying to see into -her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He used to say that a man who knew life -never wrote about it. It would be too -painful. It wouldn't sell."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Billy," said he sharply, "what are you -doing in that closet? Come away at once."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I was only trying to find a bucket," -stammered Billy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Those things don't belong to you. You -have no right there." And Bartlett sternly and -promptly shut the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A slight mistake," said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, yes," said Henrietta, "as when you go -off with another man's umbrella."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly not," said the general. "But if -we had consulted them before we left—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sort of in the fashion of an oracle," -sneered Henrietta as she began slowly to -gather up the napkins and the wooden plates.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Henrietta, "never. With the -blue book one could go directly to Heaven. It -would be impossible not to."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Billy laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Billy would laugh at her funeral," said -Bartlett coldly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, no, father," said Henrietta, "or it -would be here."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It should be," admitted Bartlett. "But it -isn't."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Suppose it isn't," said Billy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just so," said the general. "We will return -to the village and put up at the hotel. It isn't -late."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's half-past eleven," said Henrietta, glancing -at her watch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alphonse returned, blasé, indifferent. -"There are no books," said he, devoid of all -interest in the affair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No books?" cried the general. "Alphonse, -what has become of them? Did you take them -out of the car before we left?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Alphonse, and violent, positive -protestations could not have been more convincing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But where are they? I left them in the car."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They probably fell out, father," said Henrietta.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They have never fallen out before," snorted -the general, with base suspicions against -Henrietta.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," agreed Bartlett. "There is a good -hotel near the railroad tracks."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Billy gently, "we didn't, father."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, she did," admitted Billy, looking -pityingly at her father.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," agreed Henrietta promptly, surprised -at her own depravity. "Let's," and again she -took out the plates and napkins.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Suppose they come back," softly whispered Billy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Instinctively they all glanced at the door, and -Henrietta paused with her hands on the edge -of the basket.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's awful," acknowledged Billy. "I feel -funny in my stomach and have creeps up my back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So have I," said Henrietta, and nodded -grimly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do what you please," said Bartlett. "But -don't get caught."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They won't come," said the Watermelon. -"They have been gone for quite a time and -aren't coming back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, my dear Holmes," said Henrietta, -"explain your deductions."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's five miles to the village," added -Bartlett with no apparent relevance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aw, be game," encouraged the Watermelon. -"Be sports."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just being hungry is enough for me," declared -Henrietta, taking the last of the edibles -from the basket.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-night-s-lodging"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">A NIGHT'S LODGING</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It will not do any harm," he thought with -the remains of his old conscience. "We will go -directly after supper."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't think that any of us have been lacking -in nerve to-night," said the general, with -no little pride.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're dead game sports," admitted the -Watermelon. "Let's stay all night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's morning already," said Henrietta. "We -have stayed all night."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let's sleep here," said the Watermelon. -"We can leave early."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Er—er—are there any beds?" asked the general.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father, father," cried Henrietta, "you are -backsliding."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The general protested, immensely flattered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father used to say if you didn't backslide -once in a while, goodness wouldn't be goodness -but a habit," said the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Watermelon looked up. "Hello," said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hello," said Bartlett. "Been up long?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not so long," said the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are the cars all right?" asked Bartlett.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I haven't been to see," returned the -Watermelon, rolling another cigarette.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bartlett drew a sigh of relief and started -after Alphonse for the shed beside the barn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Watermelon had not had time to walk to -the village and back, besides telegraphing. -Bartlett paused and glanced over his shoulder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aren't you coming?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said the Watermelon. "I ain't bugs -about the gasolene buggies."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Watermelon's slow drawl at last -aroused him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cut it," said the Watermelon. "The cops -are coming."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I do not see any one," said Bartlett with -calm dignity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will go and explain that it was a mistake," -said Bartlett.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will explain that it was a mistake—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"One can afford mistakes as well as any -other luxury," said Bartlett. "Money is all -the fellows want."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They found the general and the girls in -the kitchen putting it in order.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly," said the general with the -calmness of one immune from the law. "We will -explain."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What?" asked Henrietta, as she drew shut -the basket lid and slipped in the catch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Henrietta nodded. Billy was for an instant -flight. "We might as well," she explained -lucidly, eying her father questioningly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not at all," said Bartlett. "Money is all -they want."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why are we?" asked Henrietta meekly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why are we?" demanded the general. "Because -we took it for the house of a very old -and dear friend."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But as soon as we entered, father, we knew -our mistake."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Henrietta," said the general, "I can not -argue with you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, father," agreed Henrietta. "But when -we found out our mistake, why didn't we -leave?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can not argue with you, Henrietta," -repeated the general.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Money," said Bartlett, "is all they want. -They always fine all motorists for breaking -speed laws. It becomes a sort of habit with -them."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This ain't breaking the speed laws," warned -the Watermelon. "This is house-breaking."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sir," demanded the general, "do you -accuse me, me, of house-breaking?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"This is preposterous!" cried the general. -"That I, </span><em class="italics">I</em><span>, should be arrested! Why, I refuse -to be. No one has a right to arrest me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you break into another person's house, -father—" began Henrietta.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, Henrietta, I am not a house-breaker. -I deny the charge."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We all are," said Henrietta. "That is all -I can see to it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," snapped the general, "we will have -no graft."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Under the present circumstances, paying -for a night's lodging is graft," declared the -general.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's graft, then, or prison," snapped Bartlett.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Prison," said the general heroically.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Prison is foolish," said Billy, "when one -has a motor-car and can get away."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Besides," said Bartlett, "graft is not -dishonest for the man who gives the bribe."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It ain't," agreed the Watermelon, "if the -man has money enough to give publicly to some -college or institution."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Henrietta drew on her gloves. "I think you -are all cynics," said she. "Graft is dishonest."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why?" asked Bartlett, turning to her. -"Why, Henrietta?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Because," said Henrietta firmly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think," said Billy, as one propounding a -wholly original suggestion, "that we should -go at once."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If we have done wrong," said the general, -"we should suffer for it. We should not -attempt to evade the consequences of our acts."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-key-to-the-situation"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE KEY TO THE SITUATION</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was an involuntary sigh of relief -from all, even the general.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," asked the Watermelon, "what are -the sleuths doing?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where are the cars, Alphonse?" asked the -general sternly, in the reaction of the suspense -of the moment before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We can shut this door on the side porch -and lock it just as we found it," said Henrietta.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come," said she.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will explain," began the general, with a -firmness that was fast weakening.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father," said Henrietta, "you can not explain. -Graft is dishonest. The only thing we -can do is to run."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shall we rush them?" suggested the Watermelon -with happy anticipation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're a man, Alphonse," said the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," cried Billy, "he was a minister, why -should he have had to escape from the police?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He left the ministry," explained the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did he say when he left it?" teased -Henrietta.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good-by," said the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What's the make of your car?" demanded -the taller of the two of Bartlett, laying his -hand on the fender.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 61%" id="figure-47"> -<span id="what-s-the-make-of-your-car"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""What's the make of your car?"" src="images/img-170.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"What's the make of your car?"</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>Surprised, Bartlett told, thankful that he -had not been asked for his name.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Engine number?" demanded the man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bartlett gave it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"License number?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"97411," droned Alphonse coldly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Be both these cars yours?" asked the man, -puzzled and a bit disappointed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We can arrest 'em and get a fine anyway," -said the taller of the two, and the other agreed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hunting," grinned the spokesman pleasantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Any luck?" asked the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bet cher life!" said the man. "Got what -we were after."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bear?" asked the Watermelon innocently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Autos," said the man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Naw," sneered the man, spitting with gusto. -"There're other things to break besides speed laws."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," agreed the Watermelon, "your empty head."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An officer of the law can't arrest a -law-abiding citizen," snapped the Watermelon with -righteous indignation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Law-abiding?" jeered the man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What have we done?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Try to guess," suggested the man pleasantly -and the other laughed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man stared and the Watermelon frowned coldly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do you know the Browns?" demanded the fellow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Huh," said the man dully, gazing from the -key to the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The second man took it. "Which door does -it fit?" he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The front door," said the Watermelon -promptly. "Go try it if you want proof."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, goldarn it," laughed the first man, -thoroughly convinced. "Well, say, ain't we -the easy marks?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't blame yourselves," said the Watermelon -gently. "Father used to say that anything -colossal, even stupidity, was worthy of -admiration."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did Dick look like?" demanded the -second man, loath to give up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Watermelon turned carelessly and spoke -to Henrietta. "That was a pretty bird up there. -Did you see it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well?" queried the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"By gum," admitted the man with the key. -"It fits."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="only-to-be-lost"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">ONLY TO BE LOST</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Watermelon held out his hand. "My -key, please. Kindly remove that piece of -artillery from the road and we will go on."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man, covered with perspiration and -embarrassment, handed back the key. "When the -Browns come back, shall we tell them you called?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Billy waved to the crestfallen two and -Henrietta gave them a gracious, forgiving bow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Never again," said she, "shall I do wrong. -The possibilities of discovery are too nerve-racking."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father used to say—" began the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'll bet your mother didn't talk much," -laughed Bartlett.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the general had passed through an -unhappy half hour and had no heart for jesting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you knew the Browns, Mr. Batchelor," -said he, "it was your duty to have told us so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Henrietta. "I have aged ten -years, and at my time of life that is tragedy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And why," asked Billy, "if you had the -key, didn't we go in by the front door last -night?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But the key," objected Billy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dick and Lizzie," added Henrietta.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Their very ages," climaxed the general.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The general roared and loved the boy. -Henrietta leaned forward and patted him on the -shoulder. "Wonderful, wonderful Holmes!" -said she.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did you take the key on purpose?" asked -Billy, all athrill with admiration.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now for breakfast," cried the general -gaily, never long forgetful of his meals.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me," begged Henrietta, "what would -father say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Grace," said the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dark as misery," said Henrietta dreamily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What good does that do," asked the -Watermelon, "seeing a universe? It's miles away and -can't help you any."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have no beauty in your soul," declared -Henrietta. "I think the idea is beautiful, -seeing a universe."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wouldn't like to be poor," said Billy. "It -must be so terrible to have no motor-car, for -one thing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It is," agreed the Watermelon, who would -have agreed to anything Billy said. "It's -simply awful."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did you mind most," asked Billy, -"when you were a newsboy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let's go look at the universe," suggested -the Watermelon hastily. "We can see it much -better down the road a bit."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Out of touch of the world for a week," he -was fond of repeating, "no letters, no papers, -no worries and no nerves."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And Indians," said Henrietta, "hiding back -of the nearest hillock, creeping up on you -unawares."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Billy glanced behind her at the woods and -wished they had chosen a more open place to -dine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," agreed the general cheerfully, "or -down in some southern swamp, with the -Johnny Rebs stealing through the bushes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, please," begged Billy. "What's the use -of telling about things creeping up on you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="billy-billy-everywhere"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">BILLY, BILLY EVERYWHERE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Potatoes, two kisses a peck," suggested the -Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Three," said Bartlett, "if the purchaser is -young and pretty. A smile would be enough, if -she were old and wrinkled and unwed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A motor-car would probably necessitate -a wedding," said the general.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no, no," protested Henrietta. "How -silly! You don't understand me at all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I would hate to be a clerk at a bargain sale," -said the Watermelon, pilfering a cracker from -the box Billy held.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," agreed Bartlett, "think of the microbes—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Microbes?" asked Billy who had not been -following the conversation. "Where?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In kisses, Billy," said the general. "I should -think you would have found it out by this -time. Everybody you kiss—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I never kiss anybody," protested Billy, -blushing delightfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father used to say—" began the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look here," interrupted Bartlett, "that -father of yours was a minister, you say. I vow -he could know nothing about this subject."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He married more people than you have," -said the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Henrietta kindly, "he must have -known all about it. Do tell us what he said."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He used to say that kissing was just the -reverse of poker—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Poker," cried Bartlett. "No wonder your -father left the ministry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It says in the papers that your father was a -policeman," declared the general.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A policeman of souls," said Henrietta softly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The general waved the sentiment aside as -immaterial. "How could he have been a -policeman and a minister?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How is kissing the reverse of poker?" -asked Henrietta, always amused by the -Reverend Mr. Batchelor's remarks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A pair would beat a royal flush," replied -the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Surely," persisted the general, "if your -father were a minister—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's a wise child that knows his own father," -said Henrietta. "Come to supper everybody."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," agreed the Watermelon dully. "So -was I. Why did you call me Willie?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Short for William, and William is your -name, goose. Don't you remember your own -name?" crooned Billy, leaning toward him in -the dark.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, surely," said the Watermelon. "But I -hate my name. Call me Jerry. That's what the -boys call me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jerry?" laughed Billy questioningly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Jeroboam gravely, and added -abruptly, "Let's go back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, law," said she, "I'm tired."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So am I," said the Watermelon moodily. -"Tired of living."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It would be a darned sight better than -living," answered the Watermelon. "Hell would -be preferable. I beg your pardon."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aren't you well?" asked Billy anxiously. -"As for me, I never really want to die unless I -am feeling perfectly well."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father," cried Henrietta, "what did you do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did they say?" asked Bartlett, while -the Watermelon slowly rolled a cigarette.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="love-in-idleness"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">LOVE IN IDLENESS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wonder," said he, hovering on the edge -of his foolish desire, "if any one can become a -man with nothing to regret."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly not," said Henrietta. "There -would always be the years."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I mean something that he had done himself," -explained Bartlett soberly, a sandwich -in one hand, a buttered roll in the other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let's have a public confession," cried the -artless Billy. "Everybody tell the worst thing -that they ever did in their lives."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Billy, "I did an awful thing once."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let's hear it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sure," said the Watermelon. "I robbed an -apple orchard once."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You're fooling," accused Billy. "I'm not. -I'm really serious."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So am I," vowed the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Billy," said Henrietta, "spare us. I am too -young to listen to a tale of depravity."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I haven't done the worst yet," explained the -Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The general having nearly wrecked the cars -and seen the damage repaired by Alphonse, -hurried to the four sitting on the stone wall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come on," said he. "It is time we were -going. We have no blue book, you know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I shouldn't wonder," said Henrietta, "if -there were not a rare chance for some one to -confess a heinous crime."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked at Bartlett as he held out his -hand to help her down and her eyes laughed -deep into his.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"In self-defense—" he pleaded in a whisper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's not highway robbery, Charlie," laughed -Bartlett. "We've been going a bit fast and have -to pay up, that's all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Darn it," he mused, "what did the Lord -give us bodies for to want and want and then -add minds to think?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"God's acre," whispered Billy softly, for -youth loves sadness, at certain times.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We are all alone," said the Watermelon, -thinking aloud half of his thoughts. "All -alone, but for the dead."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Alone, and the seven seas could not have -parted them farther.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And God," added Billy piously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If there is one," admitted the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Billy looked at him quickly, earnestly. "Oh, -Jerry, of course there is a God. Don't you -know it?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A mother always believes in God and her -worthless sons. It's a part of being a mother, -I suppose."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-thief-in-the-night"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">A THIEF IN THE NIGHT</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We had better go back," said he shortly. -"It's late."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good night," said she gently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good night," said the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Henrietta rose. "I didn't know it was so -late. Wait, Billy, I am coming with you. Good -night, all."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bartlett followed the girls, but at the door he -stopped and glanced back at the Watermelon, -standing on the grass by the steps.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Better come to bed," said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Watermelon nodded abstractedly and -Bartlett went in, leaving him out there alone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I—I—I came to see if the moon had set," -she faltered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's set," said the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well," said Billy, "then I will go back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good night," said the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good night," said Billy, and lingered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Watermelon drew a bit nearer. "Billy, -Billy," said he softly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I think it must be terrible to worry about -money," Billy hurried on. "It's not worth it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not worrying about money, kid," said -the Watermelon with a laugh. "I have a bunch. -What made you think I was?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Twice to-night you've counted your money."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said the Watermelon. "He had nothing -more to sell."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did he sell?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"His birthright—for a mess of pottage."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why'd he do that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, indeed," chirped Billy. "I don't see -why not. But why didn't he get something -better than a mess of pottage?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Don't ask me, kid. But, I guess you're -right. No one can keep your birthright unless -you're willing they should."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I usually know more about the Bible," -stammered Billy, fearful of the impression her -ignorance must have made. "I know about -Moses and Ruth."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Watermelon nodded. "You see, I was -raised on the Bible," he said kindly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," agreed Billy, "and I was raised on -Mellen's food."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A step was heard on the floor above and she -started hastily. "I guess I had better be -going," she whispered. "Good night, Jerry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Good night, Billy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She slipped away and the Watermelon was -again alone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The general was awake, looking at him with -half-shut, sleepy eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Robbed, General," said the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Robbed?" repeated the general, sitting up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Everything gone," said the Watermelon, -"or I'll eat my hat."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The general rose and they made a systematic -search through empty pockets and rifled bureau.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Robbed?" asked the general.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They left me my name," said Bartlett -grimly. "Who steals your purse steals trash, I -suppose. We have that comfort."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not my purse," said the Watermelon. -"Mine had money in it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My watch," said the general, "was a family -heirloom. My great grandfather carried it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wonder if the girls lost anything," said -Bartlett.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We will have to go to the nearest telegraph -station and telegraph for money," declared the -general.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose so," growled Bartlett, and trailed -from the room to finish dressing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father," she asked, "what's the matter? -Have your sins found you out?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The general waited for the slatternly maid-servant -to give them their breakfast and leave -the room before he spoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Henrietta and Billy stared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have never had a thief in my room," cried -Billy. "I would like to see how it feels."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not robbed," said Henrietta, making a -hurried examination of the small-sized trunk -she carried as a hand-bag.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's the stable-boy," said the general. "I -noticed him carefully last night. He would not -look any one in the face."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He goes home every night," objected -Henrietta. "Mrs. Parker told me so."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's no reason he couldn't come back," -said the general.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Henrietta. "But because a boy -won't look at you is no reason to say that -he is a thief."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He does look at you, anyway," said Billy -innocently. "He looked at me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It was clever in him to take our checkbooks," -said Bartlett.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Maybe it was," agreed Henrietta. "I hate -to suspect him, though."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="alphonse-rides-away"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">ALPHONSE RIDES AWAY</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Want anything?" asked the girl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, thank you," replied Henrietta gently, -feeling that in judging the stable-boy she had -somehow injured the girl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The girl lingered a moment, glanced -significantly at the clock, and went out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who could it be?" asked Billy, pleasantly -excited.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, this is terrible," said Henrietta. "If -the boy didn't do it, there is no one else who -could have, but the family."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It looks that way," admitted the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What shall we do?" gasped Billy. "What -shall we pay them with?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The slatternly girl again appeared in the -doorway much to the general's nervousness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Want anything?" she asked, and glanced -again at the clock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Henrietta. "No, thank you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will speak to Parker," declared the -general as the girl left.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But that's the test of honesty," declared the -general. "To need money and not steal."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," cried Billy, as usual carried away by -her feelings. "Let's not say a thing."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The door opened for the third time, but -instead of the ineffective maid-servant, the -farmer's wife, fat, red-cheeked, good-natured, -entered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She approached the table and smiled jovially -from one to the other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, thank you," said the general, confused -and unhappy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Parker smiled still. "I am glad you -liked everything. Your man should be back -soon. He hasn't had any breakfast yet."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where'd he go?" asked the general, feeling -that that was safe enough ground.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My husband thinks that he went out in one -of the automobiles very early, for he found -one of them gone."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Did your husband see him go?" asked Bartlett.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no, but he thinks he must have gone -because there is only one automobile—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes," said Henrietta, and stared at the -others, fearful of reading her own crushing -suspicion in their eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Billy was the first to speak.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The car," she whispered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's an outrage," sympathized Bartlett. -"We can telegraph the police."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," moaned Henrietta, "I did love that car."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My car," said he, and chuckled with relief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where's mine?" demanded Bartlett, growing -red and angry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where's Alphonse?" suggested the Watermelon -significantly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Henrietta laughed with positive gratitude to -her erstwhile serving-man. "Why," she cried, -"he left us ours."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Alphonse was very fond of me," said the -general with some little pride, as he patted his -car tenderly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The landlord, followed by the slatternly -maid-servant and the shifty-eyed stable-boy, -trailed into the barn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Man gone off with your car?" asked the -landlord. "I locked up last night about twelve. -He must have left before then."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The general's man did," said Bartlett, who -felt that the general was in some way to blame.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He has taken all our money," added Henrietta.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A thief, eh?" said the landlord.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The general waved the suggestion scornfully -aside. "You can't tell whether the tracks are -coming or going," said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"All detectives do," said Billy, following -Henrietta to the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm sorry," whispered the Watermelon in -Billy's ear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't see how you work that out," said -Henrietta, puzzling over it with knit brows.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Maybe he didn't take the money," said -Henrietta, feeling vaguely and disappointedly -that she was not a person with detective-like -instincts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He certainly did take the money," snapped -the farmer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And my car," added Bartlett angrily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He could not have taken both," declared the -general.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You were robbed last night, weren't you?" -demanded the farmer. "Well, then?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And my car is gone, isn't it?" demanded Bartlett.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sir," interrupted the farmer with a quiet -dignity that was impressive, "do you accuse -any of us of stealing?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, no," protested the general, now hopelessly -rattled. "But if Alphonse stole the money—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly," said Bartlett, who could not -help feeling irritated with the general for the -fault of his man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Billy laughed. "All this bother about nothing," -said she. "Dad, what's one car, more or less?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," agreed Henrietta sympathetically, -"any one hates to lose a car."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But when you have seven," objected Billy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We haven't got them here, have we?" asked -Bartlett.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, we did," said the Watermelon, thinking -of the tonneau with only Billy and him, the -general in front completely absorbed with the car.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why?" asked Billy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, yes," chirped Billy. "What will they -do now?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="oh-for-a-horse"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">OH, FOR A HORSE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let's hurry," said he. There was no need -of prolonging the misery in the thought of the -parting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Worrying over his affairs," thought Bartlett. -"He has come to at last."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lost again," wailed Henrietta. "How very -stupid we are!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's my fault," admitted Bartlett truthfully, -but with contrition. "I said to take this turn -back there near that barrel factory."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We can go back," suggested Billy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If we have come twenty miles, we can go -twenty more without dying," said Bartlett.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't know," laughed Henrietta. "I am -famished now."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So am I," wailed Billy. "Henrietta, -haven't we a thing to eat?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not a thing," said Henrietta.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hit her up," cried Bartlett jovially. "We -will break some more speed laws, by George. -I want something to eat."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What things?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, the woods and fields, a beautiful day—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Rent day, probably, and no rent money. -Father used to say when you're poor, every day -is rent day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We're nearing the end of the woods," cried -Bartlett. "And I think I see a house."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then the car stopped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gid ap," chirped Bartlett.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father, is there anything the matter?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, no," pleaded Billy. "Not here?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stepped out and turned to help the girls.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Look in the gasolene tank first," he begged.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The general was already deep in the mechanism, -oblivious to all else. "It's the carburetor—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Carburetor nothing," pleaded the Watermelon. -"It's the gasolene."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," agreed Henrietta indiscreetly, "maybe -it is."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That won't help us any," snapped the -general angrily. "Where can we get more? Much -better to have something else wrong—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not for the car," said the Watermelon. -"None of us would be able to fix it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My dear sir," said the general warmly, "I -have owned this car for a year—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know," murmured the Watermelon. "I -think it marvelous."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am perfectly capable—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the gasolene, or rather the lack of -gasolene, that had stopped the car.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That's where a horse beats a car," lamented -Henrietta. "You don't have to keep bothering -with their works."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm not fretting about gasolene," said Bartlett. -"I want something to eat. Let's all go -to that house—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We can't leave the car," objected the general.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No one could go off with the car," argued -Henrietta.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And we can get them to send a horse," -added Bartlett. "I am starving."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I feel like the car," said Billy. "I have no -gasolene."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A horse would do," said Billy gravely. -"We don't need the farmer."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bartlett blushed, Henrietta laughed and the -general roared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You grown-up daughters are so hard to explain," -said he. "Not once do you offer to be -a sister to us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I wouldn't be a sister to father for anything," -protested Billy. "He must be fifty, at least."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," sneered Billy. "And I'm only eighteen."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not all go for the horse? The car will -be all right, father; and I am so hungry," she -added pathetically.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-broker-prince"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">A BROKER PRINCE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"I am going," said Billy with determination.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We can't leave the general alone," objected -Bartlett.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't see how I would be able to help the -general any," returned Billy in injured accents.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I thought you could push him in the car," -explained Bartlett with gentle sarcasm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why not all go?" pleaded Henrietta. "Why -wait here starving—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can go faster alone," answered the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I never get stuck on anything," contradicted -Billy perversely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Henrietta laughed. "Billy, cheer up. The -worst is yet to come."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That house may be empty," said the Watermelon. -"Then we would be all over there and -have to come back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We've been in empty houses before," said -Henrietta crossly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But what good would that do, to be over -there without food?" asked the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What good to be here without gasolene?" -retorted Henrietta.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I can not leave the car," reiterated the -general.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Father," exclaimed the exasperated Henrietta, -"some night I will find that you have -taken the car to bed with you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Suppose we leave the car here—" began the -general argumentatively.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We can't," sighed Henrietta. "Such a -supposition would be impossible with you the -owner of the car."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Watermelon laughed. "Aw, cut out the -conversation," said he. "I will be right back."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"So will I," said Billy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now the Watermelon objected. He did not -feel equal to a </span><em class="italics">tête-à-tête</em><span> with the adorable -Billy, adorable still, though a bit cross.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cut out the conversation," mimicked Billy, -and scrambled with more speed than grace -under the broken bars of the worm-eaten fence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Henrietta waited politely for him at the -stone wall which Billy had just scaled and the -Watermelon jumped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What are we hurrying for?" asked Bartlett, -removing his hat to wipe his heated brow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If we waited here," suggested Bartlett, -"our dinner would come to us."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As the office to the man," agreed Henrietta.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Precisely."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bartlett broke in upon her reveries. "See -that hill?" and he waved toward the slope -ahead of them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Henrietta nodded, still wrapped in her -dream. "The hill of life," said she, "with glory -at its top."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bartlett looked at her, amused, with a man's -tolerance. "What do you want romance for? -A railroad pays better."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And a princess."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who? Me?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My lover," said Henrietta.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Me," said Bartlett softly, and to Henrietta's -surprise he laid his hand gently on hers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Henrietta," he asked gently, leaning toward -her, "shall I finish the story?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why no," said Henrietta, "there was no -finish. It had just begun."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Just begun," whispered Bartlett, and took -her suddenly into his arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, please," begged Henrietta, feeling that -modesty called for some remonstrance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Please," he taunted. "When you were the -goose girl and I was the prince, you didn't -say please."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Henrietta laughed. "And neither did the -prince," she dared him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No decent lover would," said Bartlett, -bending and kissing her full on her whimsical -mouth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why silly?" demanded Bartlett. "We love -each other, don't we? Why shouldn't I put my -arm around you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh," said Henrietta, "you should, but—er—er -we seem so old for such things."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Old?" Bartlett laughed. "Love is the -oldest thing in the world."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know," agreed Henrietta, "but not before people."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Henrietta laughed. "Oh, you are silly, silly, -silly. I never knew a New York broker could -be so silly, so mushy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I always thought that I would be dignified -and sweet—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are, my love."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You have never loved before—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed, I have. I have loved nearly every -one I have ever met. Most all girls do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," whispered Henrietta. "It's just giving."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She paused, gazing before her into the deepening -shadows of the evening with misty eyes, -for the first time realizing the completeness of -life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-seven-o-clock-express"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE SEVEN O'CLOCK EXPRESS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose that's so," agreed Billy. "But -how do you know? You weren't ever a tramp, -were you, Jerry?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A tramp, kid, is the only man in America -to-day, besides the millionaire, who is his own -master. Do you know that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I would kind of hate that sort of master," -said Billy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A tramp never has to worry about rent—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know, but I should think the house might -be worth the worry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Watermelon changed the subject.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm going to speak to him myself," said the -Watermelon, stopping. "It will save time. -You wait here. I won't be long."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Give me the food," said Billy. "I will take -it to the others. Poor things, they must be -starving."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I won't be long," objected the Watermelon. -"You can't carry it alone."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Indeed, I can," protested Billy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Watermelon laughed down at her. -"You couldn't get up the other side of the -crossing," he teased.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A girl," said Billy sagely, "is a lot more -capable when she is alone than when she is -with a man."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Billy, Billy," he whispered, then turned -from the thoughts which were coming thick -and fast and started toward the distant field -and the farmer.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 64%" id="figure-48"> -<span id="billy-billy-he-whispered"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""Billy, Billy," he whispered" src="images/img-274.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"Billy, Billy," he whispered</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Watermelon turned and far in the distance, -echoing and reëchoing through the hills, -he heard again the scream of the approaching -train.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Sweetheart, sweetheart," he whispered with -white lips as Billy still sobbed. "Darling, hush. -Dear heart, my love, my Billy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We've got to go," said she, her hands -raised to her tumbled hair as she tried her best -to laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jerry," whispered the girl, a woman now, -tender, compassionate, gracious.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Watermelon dropped her hands and -turned abruptly. "I'm a damn fool," he -muttered and picked up the bundle, still beside the -track.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why did you come?" she asked, all solicitude -for him. "You might have been killed."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Watermelon did not answer. He -stalked across the track to the other foot-path -and Billy perforce had to follow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="rich-and-poor-alike"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">RICH AND POOR ALIKE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Turning he aroused the general and Bartlett.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Get up," he whispered, not to disturb the -girls, "the barn's on fire."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bartlett was up and half in his clothes -before the general had opened his eyes. The -Watermelon had already slipped quietly from -the room.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My car!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Quick." snapped Bartlett. "The gasolene—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There was no gasolene," said the general -sadly, as one would talk about a loved and -dying friend. He turned mournfully from the -window.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Gone," said the general sadly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Billy sniffed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Better Alphonse had taken it," lamented -Henrietta.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We will have to go home," said Henrietta dully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We have no money," replied the general -quietly, unmoved by his penniless condition, -thinking only of the motor-car that was no more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have a little," said Henrietta. "About six -dollars."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We owe at least all of that here for supper -and rooms," said Bartlett.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Cheer up, daddy, we haven't a cent, none -of us," she crooned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We can telegraph," suggested Billy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"From where?" asked Bartlett shortly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, we can drive somewhere where we -can," returned Billy desperately, under her -father's calm scrutiny of amusement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Drive what?" asked Bartlett.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A horse," said Henrietta mildly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Shank's mare," said Henrietta. "At the -nearest farm, we can get a team and drive to -some town where we can telegraph."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm always hungry, Billy," said he and -joined the general on the way to the house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Billy stood a moment, hurt and flushed, then -she followed the others in to breakfast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's damn hard on you," he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And on him," said the woman. "All the -hay was just in."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Those others," said she, wiping her eyes on -her coarse apron, "they are kind, but they don't -understand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"They mean well," said the Watermelon, -"but you have to go through the mill yourself, -to </span><em class="italics">do</em><span> well. I know what poverty means. Its -ways ain't ways of pleasantness by a dog-gone -sight."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"Beggars all, beggars all," cried Henrietta, -as they started up the road, in the dewy -freshness of early morning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I am glad it pleases you, Henrietta," said -the general tartly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Henrietta sobered. "Father, I feel as badly -as you do about the car. But I can't go into -mourning for it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Billy," said Henrietta, "do you think we -can buy a car every time the humor moves us? -You don't understand."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know," said Billy humbly, crushed under -repeated rebuffs from every one. "I am a -perfect fool, Henrietta, but I can't help it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Quietly she watched the Watermelon as he -slowly and reluctantly replaced the bars.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He flushed hotly and would not look at her. -"There is nothing the matter," said he. "Why? -What makes you think so?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-truth-at-last"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE TRUTH AT LAST</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, kid, I love you," he whispered, as she -went to him, frankly and happily. "I love you -so I can't marry you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"It's old-fashioned to love your wife, I -know," chirruped Billy, "but let's be -old-fashioned."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Billy stared, mouth slightly parted, her -brows drawn together in wonder, unbelieving. -"Not Batchelor?" she stammered. "William -Hargrave Batchelor?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Billy. "Father asked you to go. -Why did he do that?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Watermelon flushed. "Why—er—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"God, Billy, ain't I giving you the straight -goods?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Not about father," replied Bartlett's -daughter gravely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why—er—he may have telegraphed—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I should think that possibly your father had -brains," suggested Billy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," admitted the Watermelon. "But -they didn't keep pace with the children."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What happened to you all? Why—er—why -couldn't you have worked at something?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was gazing at him bewildered, trying to -get a grasp on the new state of affairs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And yourself, my love, my Jerry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But other men have married. You aren't -the only one who isn't clean."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Billy's eyes blazed. "You will never marry -any one else with me alive," said she.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How could I marry you, dear? I have -nothing—absolutely nothing. We couldn't -have a home anywhere."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You can't make a home with nothing to -make it on," said the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, but we have something to make it on," -cried Billy. "We have you and me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But no money."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why, Jerry, I have money; hundreds, -thousands, dear."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the Watermelon shook his head. -"Money wouldn't be any good when I'm -rotten," said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dear," crooned Billy, and kissed him on the -chin, for she could reach no higher.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Billy," he groaned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell me you love me, Jerry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell you I love you? Ah, sweetheart."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell it to me, Jerry."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You may not," said Billy, "when we have -been married a year."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We can't marry, dear. Don't you understand? -I am a tramp."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And so am I."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Your father will kick me out when he -knows—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Wait until I speak to him—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I promise, Billy, kid."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Promise you won't say a thing until I speak."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I won't say a thing until I can't help it, but -what good will that do?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Let's be happy while we can," returned -Billy, with a pretty evasion. "We have one -more day."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Billy," whispered the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Billy turned and led the way up the path to -the house while the Watermelon picked up the -two suit-cases and followed her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Billy drew her father aside, while the -general, Henrietta and the Watermelon retired -discreetly to the well for a drink.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bartlett flushed and dismissed Henrietta -from the conversation. "My dear Billy, you -have only known him a week."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"But, Billy, a week."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Now, father," advised Billy, "just forget it. -And I will forget about you and Henrietta."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"About me and Henrietta?" snapped Bartlett.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said Billy, "and last night on the -porch when you thought we had all gone in."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Certainly I won't say a thing if you don't -want me to, Billy—but there is nothing -whatever that you could say."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No," said Billy, "only what I heard."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The carriage drove up at that moment, -which was well.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="back-to-the-road"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">BACK TO THE ROAD</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come back, for God's sake. B. here all the -time. Where have you been?" signed by his -broker's name.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To ask me for Billy," Bartlett had at first -decided, but changed his mind as the youth's -gloom became apparently impenetrable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Who are you?" he demanded hoarsely, -when the Watermelon had finished reading the -message and returned it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jeroboam Martin," said the Watermelon -slowly, a grim amusement in his half-shut eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jero—what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Jeroboam Martin."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A low dirty trick," sputtered Bartlett.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Watermelon agreed. "Typical of the -Street," he sneered. "Yah, it fairly reeks -with the filth of money, your plan and mine."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Watermelon nodded without any undue -elation, in fact, not thinking at all about -Bartlett, he was too entirely absorbed in his own -troubles.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I suppose you are his partner—friend?" -questioned Bartlett, after a moment's painful -readjusting of ideas.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I am a stranger. We met by chance, -as you might say. I am a tramp."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The horror in his tones angered the Watermelon. -The hot blood leaped into his face and -his hands clenched.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, why not?" he demanded. "I am a -man if I am a tramp."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Bah," sneered Bartlett. "A man? A cow, -rather, an animal too lazy to work. I suppose -you stole your clothes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That boy would take candy from the baby," -swore Bartlett gently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Does she know you are a tramp?"</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 62%" id="figure-49"> -<span id="does-she-know-you-are-a-tramp"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt=""Does she know you are a tramp?"" src="images/img-310.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">"Does she know you are a tramp?"</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You haven't a cent, I suppose."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, but I can earn some."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"How?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Working."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"At what?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Something."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Anything. Damn it, I ain't incapable of -anything but sleep!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I've lost thousands through that dirty trick -of yours—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yours. You originated it, you know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"My father was a minister," returned the -Watermelon. "Yours was a grocer. Billy -told me. Families don't count in America."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bartlett nodded agreement. "Why did you -become a tramp?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Lazy—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," snapped the Watermelon, "but a -man. I love your Billy—my Billy, and I can -work for her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't drink, not as the others do."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, I see. I tried to tell her," agreed the -Watermelon gloomily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"We love each other," said the Watermelon -simply.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Can I say good-by to her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said the Watermelon, "I love her and -will not let her know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I hope so," answered Bartlett. "I'm not -very particular, but a tramp—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A gentleman pedestrian," suggested the -Watermelon, with a faint flicker of his usual -sublime arrogance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Of yours," corrected the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes, I suppose so. I hope that -Henrietta won't ever know. Do you think Billy -does?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Billy isn't as simple as you think," returned -the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"What did she say?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"'Father suggested the trip and he telegraphed -after dinner,' or something like that."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You didn't tell her it was my plan?" begged -Bartlett. "I have to go on living with her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No, I didn't tell her, but she's next to the -fact."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They walked slowly toward the door and -once more shook hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I would gladly have given the thousands I -have lost to have you Batchelor, boy," said -Bartlett gently.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Aw, thanks," said the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Tell the others I will be around when I -have sent another telegram."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where's Henrietta?" he asked, ignoring -her eyes and the question they asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Where's the general?" asked the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Billy nodded backward. "In the office, trying -to convert the landlord. The landlord's a -democrat, you know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Come and walk down the road with me a -bit?" asked the Watermelon. He rose and -held out his hand to help her up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Billy rose with a trembling laugh that -failed miserably in its manifest attempt to be -brave.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I never went to school," said Billy. "It -must be awful."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Awful," the Watermelon shrugged. "It's -taken ten years from my life. Schools should -be abolished."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They sat down on the tiny, weather-stained -step, side by side, in the gathering dusk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Billy," began the Watermelon earnestly, -and then stopped.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And we will get married and live happily -ever after," crooned Billy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I'm going away to-night, Billy, back to the -road."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, Jerry, please, clear. If father knew -how much I care—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If he were a decent chap—" stammered the -Watermelon, "it would be better for you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"And then we can marry, did father say -that?" asked Billy, turning to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If you care still," muttered the Watermelon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Care," Billy laughed the contrary to merry -scorn. "Care? Why, Jeroboam Martin, when -will I not care?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You will be my knight," whispered Billy. -"And I will be your lady, and no knight ever -went back on his lady, yet, Jeroboam."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Always, always," whispered Billy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dirty, drunk?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Dirty and drunk and sick and always," -promised Billy. "Only you won't drink, -because I love you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Love never yet stood between a man and -the whisky bottle," sneered the Watermelon. -"You don't know men, kid."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He let her go and turned away with a -shamed laugh. "Good-by, Billy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-poet-or-the-poodle"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXIV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE POET OR THE POODLE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Hello," drawled a voice, slow, indifferent, -familiar.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah," said Bartlett. "Jeroboam Martin."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Am I bum enough?" asked the Watermelon, -with no answering smile. When one -has come to test love, life is too grim for -smiles.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You are fairly dirty and shabby," agreed -Bartlett. "You look thin."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I have had hard luck," said the Watermelon. -"How's Billy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Pretty well, thanks."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Expecting me?" asked the Watermelon, -taking off his hat and gently patting his back -hair as he had a way of doing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bartlett nodded. "Yes, but not exactly as -you are."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Well, go and get drunk," returned Bartlett. -"And then you can see her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bartlett tossed him a bill. "Is that enough?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes," said the Watermelon and slipped it -into his pocket.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Have one with me before you go," said -Bartlett, pushing a glass and the bottle across -the table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Watermelon filled his glass and raised -it. "To Billy," said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"To Billy's happiness," amended Bartlett.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The yacht, </span><em class="italics">Mary Gloucester</em><span>, 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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The </span><em class="italics">Mary Gloucester</em><span> 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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, indeed, Mrs. Armitage," said Henry -Bliven solemnly. "Tell us truthfully, whom -do you love the better, Kipling or the blessed -duckems?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Do not hesitate or seek to spare either of -their feelings," urged Bertie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mrs. Armitage laughed, fat, contented, -placid. "Oh, you silly boys, comparing a poet -and a dog, a blessed little doggie."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"An intellect?" questioned the lady, wrinkling -her brows and gazing puzzled at the youth -in the chair beside her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Are you, in other words," explained Henry, -"of intellectual or sporting tendencies?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't want you </span><em class="italics">men</em><span> bad, just poets," -explained the widow, fanning herself slowly, -cheerfully.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"No harm," said Henry with feeling, "shall -befall the angel child while I live to protect -it—her—him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For your sake," said Bertie, "I would die."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, no," protested Bertie, "that was not -our proposition. Neither the book nor the -latest thing in worsted—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Oh, my precious, my lamb," cried the -widow. "Bertie, save him for me."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, yes," declared Bertie, hanging over the -rail and watching the struggling dog in the -water below. "Yes, yes, certainly."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Henry," pleaded the widow. "If you love me—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Trust me," said Henry soothingly, hiding a -gleam of satisfaction in his mild blue eyes. "I -will have the boat stopped."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The widow's daughter and chaperon -appeared in the companionway, flushed and -sleepy. "Mama, what </span><em class="italics">is</em><span> the matter?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Caroline, my precious lamb," and the -widow motioned dramatically seaward. -"Henry, you said—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will," said Henry. "I will have the boat -stopped."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I will do that," cried the widow. "You -jump overboard and save him."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bertie looked at his immaculate yachting -clothes and hesitated.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, you do not love me," cried the widow. -"Oh, my baby, my own."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I love you so," said Bertie solemnly, "I -refuse to leave you in your grief even for a -moment."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"A rescue, a rescue," cried Henry, and -added softly to himself, "Oh, poppycock!"</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="as-he-said-he-would"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">AS HE SAID HE WOULD</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The widow leaned far over the side. -"Oh," said she, "the man is naked."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"As truth," agreed Bertie. "You might -retire, you know."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Unfortunately, yes, mama," said Caroline.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There comes the </span><em class="italics">Mary Gloucester</em><span>," 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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"The </span><em class="italics">Mary Gloucester</em><span>," chuckled Bartlett. -"That woman hasn't the sense of her ugly little -poodle dog."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I know," said Billy, "that is why I have -always been so afraid of her."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Why afraid of her?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"For a mother," explained Billy -unfortunately, but characteristically saying the -wrong thing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bartlett flushed. "You just admitted that -she was a fool. Do you think I would marry -that kind of a woman?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Men always do," said Billy. "A fool's bad -enough, but a fool and money are simply -irresistible."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"You know too much for your age," said -Bartlett coldly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"I don't exactly know it," blundered Billy. -"I just see it."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Billy, have you ever seen me—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Yes, father. That night in the pavilion at -the Ainsleys'—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"That will do, Billy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Billy was hurt. "I don't mean to be nasty, -father; but you asked me—"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"There comes the mail boat," interrupted -Bartlett firmly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bartlett laid his hand tenderly on her shoulder. -"Forget him, girlie. He's not worthy of you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"He said he would come," whispered Billy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"If he doesn't, dear, you have me. We have -stood together through everything for eighteen -years and will stand, still, eh, Billy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Billy bent her head and rubbed her cheek -against the hand on her shoulder with a half -laugh and a half sob.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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 </span><em class="italics">Mary Gloucester</em><span>, 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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<div class="align-center auto-scaled figure margin" style="width: 60%" id="figure-50"> -<span id="and-stood-laughing-down-at-her"></span><img class="align-center block" style="display: block; width: 100%" alt="And stood laughing down at her" src="images/img-348.jpg" /> -<div class="caption centerleft figure-caption margin"> -<span class="italics">And stood laughing down at her</span></div> -</div> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Billy," he whispered, "Oh, you Billy."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"Ah, Martin," said he, "how are you, boy?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bartlett roared. "Say, boy, er—er—maybe -you need a loan until I can see about that job -for you."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once more their eyes met and this time in -complete and tender accord.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>"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."</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">THE END</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 6em"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="backmatter"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst" id="pg-end-line"><span>*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>HE COMES UP SMILING</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="cleardoublepage"> -</div> -<div class="language-en level-2 pgfooter section" id="a-word-from-project-gutenberg" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<span id="pg-footer"></span><h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title"><span>A Word from Project Gutenberg</span></h2> -<p class="pfirst"><span>We will update this book if we find any errors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This book can be found under: </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/45136"><span>http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/45136</span></a></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>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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