diff options
| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:23:37 -0700 |
|---|---|---|
| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:23:37 -0700 |
| commit | 64e1ad0aafdf5d04862c1a055567fda035c4f7c5 (patch) | |
| tree | 43a7e1b9d2b9d421f32d9834bd006b7ace427a24 /4516-h | |
Diffstat (limited to '4516-h')
| -rw-r--r-- | 4516-h/4516-h.htm | 16170 |
1 files changed, 16170 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/4516-h/4516-h.htm b/4516-h/4516-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..518e717 --- /dev/null +++ b/4516-h/4516-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,16170 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Peter, by F. Hopkinson Smith + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Peter, by F. Hopkinson Smith + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Peter + A Novel of Which He is Not the Hero + +Author: F. Hopkinson Smith + +Release Date: January 14, 2010 [EBook #4516] +Last Updated: March 8, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PETER *** + + + + +Produced by Robert Rowe, Charles Franks, David Widger +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + PETER + </h1> + <h1> + A Novel of Which He is Not the Hero + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By F. Hopkinson Smith + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XXXIII </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + CHAPTER I + </h2> + <p> + Peter was still poring over his ledger one dark afternoon in December, his + bald head glistening like a huge ostrich egg under the flare of the + overhead gas jets, when Patrick, the night watchman, catching sight of my + face peering through the outer grating, opened the door of the Bank. + </p> + <p> + The sight so late in the day was an unusual one, for in all the years that + I have called at the Bank—ten, now—no, eleven since we first + knew each other—Peter had seldom failed to be ready for our walk + uptown when the old moon-faced clock high up on the wall above the stove + pointed at four. + </p> + <p> + “I thought there was something up!” I cried. “What is it, Peter—balance + wrong?” + </p> + <p> + He did not answer, only waved his hand in reply, his bushy gray eyebrows + moving slowly, like two shutters that opened and closed, as he scanned the + lines of figures up and down, his long pen gripped tight between his thin, + straight lips, as a dog carries a bone. + </p> + <p> + I never interrupt him when his brain is nosing about like this; it is + better to keep still and let him ferret it out. So I sat down outside the + curved rail with its wooden slats backed by faded green curtains, close to + the big stove screened off at the end of the long room, fixed one eye on + the moon-face and the other on the ostrich egg, and waited. + </p> + <p> + There are no such banks at the present time—were no others then, and + this story begins not so very many years ago—A queer, out-of-date, + mouldy old barn of a bank, you would say, this Exeter—for an + institution wielding its influence. Not a coat of paint for half a + century; not a brushful of whitewash for goodness knows how much longer. + As for the floor, it still showed the gullies and grooves, with here and + there a sturdy knot sticking up like a nut on a boiler, marking the track + of countless impatient depositors and countless anxious borrowers, it may + be, who had lock-stepped one behind the other for fifty years or more, in + their journey from the outer door to the windows where the Peters of the + old days, and the Peter of the present, presided over the funds entrusted + to their care. + </p> + <p> + Well enough in its day, you might have said, with a shrug, as you looked + over its forlorn interior. Well enough in its day! Why, man, old John + Astor, James Beekman, Rhinelander Stewart, Moses Grinnell, and a lot of + just such worthies—men whose word was as good as their notes—and + whose notes were often better than the Government's, presided over its + destinies, and helped to stuff the old-fashioned vault with wads of + gilt-edged securities—millions in value if you did but know it—and + making it what it is to-day. If you don't believe the first part of my + statement, you've only to fumble among the heap of dusty ledgers piled on + top of the dusty shelves; and if you doubt the latter part, then try to + buy some of the stock and see what you have to pay for it. Although the + gas was turned off in the directors' room, I could still see from where I + sat the very mahogany table under which these same ruffle-shirted, + watch-fobbed, snuff-taking old fellows tucked their legs when they decided + on who should and who should not share the bank's confidence. + </p> + <p> + And the side walls and surroundings were none the less shabby and quite as + dilapidated. Even the windows had long since given up the fight to + maintain a decent amount of light, and as for the grated opening protected + by iron shutters which would have had barely room to swing themselves + clear of the building next door, no Patrick past or present had ever dared + loosen their bolts for a peep even an inch wide into the canyon below, so + gruesome was the collection of old shoes, tin cans, broken bottles and + battered hats which successive generations had hurried into the narrow + un-get-at-able space that lay between the two structures. + </p> + <p> + Indeed the only thing inside or out of this time-worn building which the + most fertile of imaginations could consider as being at all up to date was + the clock. Not its face—that was old-timey enough with its sun, moon + and stars in blue and gold, and the name of the Liverpool maker engraved + on its enamel; nor its hands, fiddle-shaped and stiff, nor its case, which + always reminded me of a coffin set up on end awaiting burial—but its + strike. Whatever divergences the Exeter allowed itself in its youth, or + whatever latitude or longitude it had given its depositors, and that, we + may be sure, was precious little so long as that Board of Directors was + alive, there was no wabbling or wavering, no being behind time, when the + hour hand of the old clock reached three and its note of warning rang out. + </p> + <p> + Peter obeyed the ominous sound and closed his Teller's window with a + gentle bang. Patrick took notice and swung to the iron grating of the + outer door. You might peer in and beg ever so hard—unless, of + course, you were a visitor like myself, and even then Peter would have to + give his consent—you might peer through, I say, or tap on the glass, + or you might plead that you were late and very sorry, but the ostrich egg + never turned in its nest nor did the eyebrows vibrate. Three o'clock was + three o'clock at the Exeter, and everybody might go to the devil—financially, + of course—before the rule would be broken. Other banks in panicky + times might keep a side door open until four, five or six—that is, + the bronze-rail, marble-top, glass-front, certify-your-checks-as-early-as- + ten-in-the-morning-without-a-penny-on-deposit kind of banks—but not + the Exeter—that is, not with Peter's consent—and Peter was the + Exeter so far as his department was concerned—and had been for + nearly thirty years—twenty as bookkeeper, five as paying teller and + five as receiving teller. + </p> + <p> + And the regularity and persistency of this clock! Not only did it announce + the hours, but it sounded the halves and quarters, clearing its throat + with a whirr like an admonitory cough before each utterance. I had samples + of its entire repertoire as I sat there: + </p> + <p> + One...two...three...four...five—then half an hour later a whir-r and + a single note. “Half-past five,” I said to myself. “Will Peter never find + that mistake?” Once during the long wait the night watchman shifted his + leg—he was on the other side of the stove—and once Peter + reached up above his head for a pile of papers, spreading them out before + him under the white glare of the overhead light, then silence again, + broken only by the slow, dogged tock-tick, tock-tick, or the sagging of a + hot coal adjusting itself for the night. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly a cheery voice rang out and Peter's hands shot up above his head. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Breen & Co.! One of those plaguey sevens for a nine. Here we are! + Oh, Peter Grayson, how often have I told you to be careful! Ah, what a + sorry block of wood you carry on your shoulders. I won't be a minute now, + Major.” A gratuitous compliment on the part of my friend, I being a poor + devil of a contractor without military aspirations of any kind. “Well, + well, how could I have been so stupid. Get ready to close up, Patrick. No, + thank you, Patrick, my coat's inside; I'll fetch it.” + </p> + <p> + He was quite another man now, closing the great ledger with a bang; + shouldering it as Moses did the Tables of the Law, and carrying it into + the big vault behind him—big enough to back a buggy into had the + great door been wider—shooting the bolts, whirring the combination + into so hopeless and confused a state that should even the most daring and + expert of burglars have tried his hand or his jimmy on its steel plating + he would have given up in despair (that is unless big Patrick fell asleep—an + unheard-of occurrence) and all with such spring and joyousness of movement + that had I not seen him like this many times before I would have been + deluded into the belief that the real Peter had been locked up in the + dismal vault with the musty books and that an entirely different kind of + Peter was skipping about outside. + </p> + <p> + But that was nothing to the air with which he swept his papers into the + drawer of his desk, brushed away the crumpled sheets upon which he had + figured his balance, and darted to the washstand behind the narrow + partition. Nor could it be compared to the way in which he stripped off + his black bombazine office-coat with its baggy pockets—quite a + disreputable-looking coat I must say—taking it by the nape of the + neck, as if it were some loathsome object to be got rid of, and hanging it + upon a hook behind him; nor to the way in which he pulled up his shirt + sleeves and plunged his white, long-fingered, delicately modeled hands + into the basin, as if cleanliness were a thing to be welcomed as a part of + his life. These carefully dried, each finger by itself—not + forgetting the small seal ring on the little one—he gave an extra + polish to his glistening pate with the towel, patted his fresh, + smooth-shaven cheeks with an unrumpled handkerchief which he had taken + from his inside pocket, carefully adjusted his white neck-cloth, + refastening the diamond pin—a tiny one but clear as a baby's tear—put + on his frock-coat with its high collar and flaring tails, took down his + silk hat, gave it a flourish with his handkerchief, unhooked his overcoat + from a peg behind the door (a gray surtout cut something like the first + Napoleon's) and stepped out to where I sat. + </p> + <p> + You would never have put him down as being sixty years of age had you + known him as well as I did—and it is a great pity you didn't. + Really, now that I come to think of it, I never did put him down as being + of any age at all. Peter Grayson and age never seemed to have anything to + do with each other. Sometimes when I have looked in through the Receiving + Teller's window and have passed in my book—I kept my account at the + Exeter—and he has lifted his bushy shutters and gazed at me suddenly + with his merry Scotch-terrier eyes, I have caught, I must admit, a line of + anxiety, or rather of concentrated cautiousness on his face, which for the + moment made me think that perhaps he was looking a trifle older than when + I last saw him; but all this was scattered to the winds when I met him an + hour afterward swinging up Wall Street with that cheery lift of the heels + so peculiarly his own, a lift that the occupants of every office window on + both sides of the street knew to be Peter's even when they failed to + recognize the surtout and straight-brimmed high hat. Had any doubting + Thomas, however, walked beside him on his way up Broadway to his rooms on + Fifteenth Street, and had the quick, almost boyish lift of Peter's heels + not entirely convinced the unbeliever of Peter's youth, all questions + would have been at once disposed of had the cheery bank teller invited him + into his apartment up three flights of stairs over the tailor's shop—and + he would have invited him had he been his friend—and then and there + forced him into an easy chair near the open wood fire, with some such + remark as: “Down, you rascal, and sit close up where I can get my hands on + you!” No—there was no trace of old age about Peter. + </p> + <p> + He was ready now—hatted, coated and gloved—not a hint of the + ostrich egg or shaggy shutters visible, but a well-preserved bachelor of + forty or forty-five; strictly in the mode and of the mode, looking more + like some stray diplomat caught in the wiles of the Street, or some + retired magnate, than a modest bank clerk on three thousand a year. The + next instant he was tripping down the granite steps between the rusty iron + railings—on his toes most of the way; the same cheery spring in his + heels, slapping his thin, shapely legs with his tightly rolled umbrella, + adjusting his hat at the proper angle so that the well-trimmed side + whiskers—the veriest little dabs of whiskers hardly an inch long—would + show as well as the fringes of his grey hair. + </p> + <p> + Not that he was anxious to conceal these slight indications of advancing + years, nor did he have a spark of cheap personal vanity about him, but + because it was his nature always to put his best foot foremost and keep it + there; because, too, it behooved him in manner, dress and morals, to + maintain the standards he had set for himself, he being a Grayson, with + the best blood of the State in his veins, and with every table worth + dining at open to him from Fourteenth Street to Murray Hill, and beyond. + </p> + <p> + “Now, it's all behind me, my dear boy,” he cried, as we reached the + sidewalk and turned our faces up Wall Street toward Broadway. “Fifteen + hours to live my own life! No care until ten o'clock to-morrow. Lovely + life, my dear Major, when you think of it. Ah, old Micawber was right—income + one pound, expense one pound ten shillings; result, misery: income one + pound ten, expense one pound, outcome, happiness! What a curse this Street + is to those who abuse its power for good; half of them trying to keep out + of jail and the other half fighting to keep out of the poor-house! And + most of them get so little out of it. Just as I can detect a counterfeit + bill at sight, my boy, so can I put my finger on these money-getters when + the poison of money-getting for money's sake begins to work in their + veins. I don't mean the laying up of money for a rainy day, or the + providing for one's family. Every man should lay up a six-months' doctor's + bill, just as every man should lay up money enough to keep his body out of + Potter's Field. It's laying up the SURPLUS that hurts.” + </p> + <p> + Peter had his arm firmly locked in mine now. + </p> + <p> + “Now that concern of Breen & Company, where I found my error, are no + better than the others. They are new to this whirlpool, but they will soon + get in over their heads. I think it is only the third or fourth year since + they started business, but they are already floating all sorts of schemes, + and some of them—if you will permit me in confidence, strictly in + confidence, my dear boy—are rather shady, I think: at least I judge + so from their deposits.” + </p> + <p> + “What are they, bankers?” I ventured. I had never heard of the firm; not + an extraordinary thing in my case when bankers were concerned. + </p> + <p> + Peter laughed: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, BANKERS—all in capital letters—the imitation kind. Breen + came from some place out of town and made a lucky hit in his first year—mines + or something—I forget what. Oh, but you must know that it takes very + little now-a-days to make a full-fledged banker. All you have to do is to + hoist in a safe—through the window, generally, with the crowd + looking on; rail off half the office; scatter some big ledgers over two or + three newly varnished desks; move in a dozen arm-chairs, get a ticker, a + black-board and a boy with a piece of chalk; be pleasant to every fellow + you meet with his own or somebody else's money in his pocket, and there + you are. But we won't talk of these things—it isn't kind, and, + really, I hardly know Breen, and I'm quite sure he wouldn't know me if he + saw me, and he's a very decent gentleman in many ways, I hear. He never + overdraws his account, any way—never tries—and that's more + than I can say for some of his neighbors.” + </p> + <p> + The fog, which earlier in the afternoon had been but a blue haze, + softening the hard outlines of the street, had now settled down in + earnest, choking up the doorways, wiping out the tops of the buildings, + their facades starred here and there with gas-jets, and making a smudged + drawing of the columns of the Custom House opposite. + </p> + <p> + “Superb, are they not?” said Peter, as he wheeled and stood looking at the + row of monoliths supporting the roof of the huge granite pile, each column + in relief against the dark shadows of the portico. “And they are never so + beautiful to me, my boy, as when the ugly parts of the old building are + lost in the fog. Follow the lines of these watchmen of the temple! These + grave, dignified, majestic columns standing out in the gloom keeping + guard! But it is only a question of time—down they'll come! See if + they don't!” + </p> + <p> + “They will never dare move them,” I protested. “It would be too great a + sacrilege.” The best way to get Peter properly started is never to agree + with him. + </p> + <p> + “Not move them! They will break them up for dock-filling before ten years + are out. They're in the way, my boy; they shut out the light; can't hang + signs on them; can't plaster them over with theatre bills; no earthly use. + 'Wall Street isn't Rome or any other excavated ruin; it's the centre of + the universe'—that's the way the fellows behind these glass windows + talk.” Here Peter pointed to the offices of some prominent bankers, where + other belated clerks were still at work under shaded gas-jets. “These + fellows don't want anything classic; they want something that'll earn four + per cent.” + </p> + <p> + We were now opposite the Sub-Treasury, its roof lost in the settling fogs, + the bronze figure of the Father of His Country dominating the flight of + marble steps and the adjacent streets. + </p> + <p> + Again Peter wheeled; this time he lifted his hat to the statue. + </p> + <p> + “Good evening, your Excellency,” he said in a voice mellowed to the same + respectful tone with which he would have addressed the original in the + flesh. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he loosened his arm from mine and squared himself so he could + look into my face. + </p> + <p> + “I notice that you seldom salute him, Major, and it grieves me,” he said + with a grim smile. + </p> + <p> + I broke into a laugh. “Do you think he would feel hurt if I didn't.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course he would, and so should you. He wasn't put there for ornament, + my boy, but to be kept in mind, and I want to tell you that there's no + place in the world where his example is so much needed as right here in + Wall Street. Want of reverence, my dear boy”—here he adjusted his + umbrella to the hollow of his arm—“is our national sin. Nobody + reveres anything now-a-days. Much as you can do to keep people from + running railroads through your family vaults, and, as to one's character, + all a man needs to get himself battered black and blue, is to try to be of + some service to his country. Even our presidents have to be murdered + before we stop abusing them. By Jove! Major, you've GOT to salute him! + You're too fine a man to run to seed and lose your respect for things + worth while. I won't have it, I tell you! Off with your hat!” + </p> + <p> + I at once uncovered my head (the fog helped to conceal my own identity, if + it didn't Peter's) and stood for a brief instant in a respectful attitude. + </p> + <p> + There was nothing new in the discussion. Sometimes I would laugh at him; + sometimes I would only touch my hat in unison; sometimes I let him do the + bowing alone, an act on his part which never attracted attention—looking + more as if he had accosted some passing friend. + </p> + <p> + We had reached Broadway by this time and were crossing the street opposite + Trinity Churchyard. + </p> + <p> + “Come over here with me,” he cried, “and let us look in through the iron + railings. The study of the dead is often more profitable than knowledge of + the living. Ah, the gate is open! It is not often I am here at this time, + and on a foggy afternoon. What a noble charity, my boy, is a fog—it + hides such a multitude of sins—bad architecture for one,” and he + laughed softly. + </p> + <p> + I always let Peter run on—in fact I always encourage him to run on. + No one I know talks quite in the same way; many with a larger experience + of life are more profound, but none have the personal note which + characterizes the old fellow's discussions. + </p> + <p> + “And how do you suppose these by-gones feel about what is going on around + them?” he rattled on, tapping the wet slab of a tomb with the end of his + umbrella. “And not only these sturdy patriots who lie here, but the queer + old ghosts who live in the steeple?” he added, waving his hand upward to + the slender spire, its cross lost in the fog. “Yes, ghosts and goblins, my + boy. You don't believe it?—I do—or I persuade myself I do, + which is better. Sometimes I can see them straddling the chimes when they + ring out the hours, or I catch them peeping out between the slats of the + windows away up near the cross. Very often in the hot afternoons when you + are stretching your lazy body under the tents of the mighty—” (Peter + referred to some friends of mine who owned a villa down on Long Island, + and were good enough to ask me down for a week in August) “I come up here + out of the rush and sit on these old tombstones and talk to these old + fellows—both kinds—the steeple boys and the old cronies under + the sod. You never come, I know. You will when you're my age.” + </p> + <p> + I had it in my mind to tell him that the inside of a dry tent had some + advantages over the outside of a damp tomb, so far as entertaining one's + friends, even in hot weather, was concerned, but I was afraid it might + stop the flow of his thoughts, and checked myself. + </p> + <p> + “It is not so much the rest and quiet that delights me, as the feeling + that I am walled about for the moment and protected; jerked out of the + whirlpool, as it were, and given a breathing spell. On these afternoons + the old church becomes a church once more—not a gate to bar out the + rush of commercialism. See where she stands—quite out to the very + curb, her warning finger pointing upward. 'Thus far shalt thou come, and + no farther,' she cries out to the Four Per Cents. 'Hug up close to me, you + old fellows asleep in your graves; get under my lea. Let us fight it out + together, the living and the dead!' And now hear these abominable Four Per + Cents behind their glass windows: 'No place for a church,' they say. 'No + place for the dead! Property too valuable. Move it up town. Move it out in + the country—move it any where so you get it out of our way. We are + the Great Amalgamated Crunch Company. Into our maw goes respect for + tradition, reverence for the dead, decency, love of religion, sentiment, + and beauty. These are back numbers. In their place, we give you something + real and up-to-date from basement to flagstaff, with fifty applicants on + the waiting list. If you don't believe it read our prospectus!'” + </p> + <p> + Peter had straightened and was standing with his hand lifted above his + head, as if he were about to pronounce a benediction. Then he said slowly, + and with a note of sadness in his voice: + </p> + <p> + “Do you wonder, now, my boy, why I touch my hat to His Excellency?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II + </h2> + <p> + All the way up Broadway he kept up his good-natured tirade, railing at the + extravagance of the age, at the costly dinners, equipages, dress of the + women, until we reached the foot of the dilapidated flight of brown-stone + steps leading to the front door of his home on Fifteenth Street. Here a + flood of gas light from inside a shop in the basement brought into view + the figure of a short, squat, spectacled little man bending over a + cutting-table, a pair of shears in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Isaac is still at work,” he cried. “If we were not so late we'd go in and + have a word with him. Now there's a man who has solved the problem, my + boy. Nobody will ever coax Isaac Cohen up to Fifth Avenue and into a 'By + appointment to His Majesty' kind of a tailor shop. Just pegs away year + after year—he was here long before I came—supporting his + family, storing his mind with all sorts of rare knowledge. Do you know + he's one of the most delightful men you will meet in a day's journey?” + </p> + <p> + “No—never knew anything of the kind. Thought he was just plain + tailor.” + </p> + <p> + “And an intimate friend of many of the English actors who come over here?” + continued Peter. + </p> + <p> + “I never heard a word about it” I answered meekly; Peter's acquaintances + being too varied and too numerous for me to keep track of. That he should + have a tailor among them as learned and wise as Solomon, and with friends + all over the globe, was quite to be expected. + </p> + <p> + “Well, he is,” answered Peter. “They always hunt him up the first thing + they do. He lived in London for years and made their costumes. There's no + one, I assure you, I am more glad to see when he makes an excuse to rap at + my door. You'll come up, of course, until I read my letters.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I'll keep on to my rooms and meet you later at the club.” + </p> + <p> + “You'll do nothing of the kind, you restless mortal. You'll come upstairs + with me until I open my mail. It's really like touching the spring of a + Jack-in-the-box, this mail of mine—all sorts of things pop out, + generally the unexpected. Mighty interesting, I tell you,” and with a + cheery wave of the hand to his friend Isaac, whose eyes had been looking + streetward at the precise moment, Peter pushed me ahead of him up the worn + marble steps flanked by the rust-eaten iron railing which led to the + hallway and stairs, and so on up to his apartment. + </p> + <p> + It was just the sort of house Peter, of all men in the world, would have + picked out to live in—and he had been here for twenty years or more. + Not only did the estimable Isaac occupy the basement, but Madame Montini, + the dress-maker, had the first floor back; a real-estate agent made free + with the first floor front, and a very worthy teacher of music, whose + piano could be heard at all hours of the day, and far into the night, was + paying rent for the second, both front and back. Peter's own apartments + ran the whole length of the third floor, immediately under the slanting, + low-ceiled garret, which was inhabited by the good Mrs. McGuffey, the + janitress, who, in addition to her regular duties, took especial care of + Peter's rooms. Adjoining these was a small apartment consisting of two + rooms, connecting with Peter's suite by a door cut through for some former + lodger. These were also under Mrs. McGuffey's special care and very good + care did she take of them, especially when Peter's sister, Miss Felicia + Grayson, occupied them for certain weeks in the year. + </p> + <p> + These changes had all taken place in the time the old fellow had mounted + the quaint stairs with the thin mahogany banisters, and yet Peter stayed + on. “The gnarled pear tree in the back yard is so charming,” he would urge + in excuse, “especially in the spring, when the perfume of its blossoms + fills the air,” or, “the view overlooking Union Square is so delightful,” + or, “the fireplace has such a good draught.” What mattered it who lived + next door, or below, or overhead, for that matter, so that he was not + disturbed—and he never was. The property, of course, had gone from + bad to worse since the owner had died; the neighborhood had run down, and + the better class of tenants down, up, and even across the street—had + moved away, but none of these things had troubled Peter. + </p> + <p> + And no wonder, when once you got inside the two rooms and looked about! + </p> + <p> + There was a four-post bedstead with chintz curtains draped about the + posts, that Martha Washington might have slept in, and a chintz petticoat + which reached the floor and hid its toes of rollers, which the dear lady + could have made with her own hands; there was a most ancient mahogany + bureau to match, all brass fittings. There were easy chairs with restful + arms within reach of tables holding lamps, ash receivers and the like; and + rows and rows of books on open shelves edged with leather; not to mention + engravings of distinguished men and old portraits in heavy gilt frames: + one of his grandfather who fought in the Revolution, and another of his + mother—this last by Rembrandt Peale—a dear old lady with the + face of a saint framed in a head of gray hair, the whole surmounted by a + cluster of silvery curls. There were quaint brass candelabra with square + marble bases on each end of the mantel, holding candles showing burnt + wicks in the day time and cheery lights at night; and a red carpet + covering both rooms and red table covers and red damask curtains, and a + lounge with a red afghan thrown over it; and last, but by no means least—in + fact it was the most important thing in the sitting-room, so far as + comfort was concerned—there was a big open-hearth Franklin, full of + blazing red logs, with brass andirons and fender, and a draught of such + marvellous suction that stray scraps of paper, to say nothing of + uncommonly large sparks, had been known more than once to have been picked + up in a jiffy and whirled into its capacious throat. + </p> + <p> + Just the very background for dear old Peter, I always said, whenever I + watched him moving about the cheery interior, pushing up a chair, lighting + a fresh candle, or replacing a book on the shelf. What a half-length the + great Sully would have made of him, with his high collar, white + shirt-front and wonderful neck-cloth with its pleats and counterpleats, to + say nothing of his rosy cheeks and bald head, the high light glistening on + one of his big bumps of benevolence. And what a background of deep reds + and warm mahoganys with a glint of yellow brass for contrast! + </p> + <p> + Indeed, I have often thought that not only Peter's love of red, but much + of Peter's quaintness of dress, had been suggested by some of the old + portraits which lined the walls of his sitting-room—his grandfather, + by Sully, among them; and I firmly believe, although I assure you I have + never mentioned it to any human being before, that had custom permitted + (the directors of his bank, perhaps), Peter would not only have indulged + in the high coat-collar and quaint neck-cloths of his fathers, but would + also have worn a dainty cue tied with a flowing black ribbon, always + supposing, of course, that his hair had held out, and, what is more + important, always supposing, that the wisp was long enough to hold on. + </p> + <p> + The one article, however, which, more than any other one thing in his + apartment, revealed his tastes and habits, was a long, wide, ample + mahogany desk, once the property of an ancestor, which stood under the + window in the front room. In this, ready to his hand, were drawers little + and big, full of miscellaneous papers and envelopes; pigeon-holes crammed + full of answered and unanswered notes, some with crests on them, some with + plain wax clinging to the flap of the broken envelopes; many held together + with the gum of the common world. Here, too, were bundles of old letters + tied with tape; piles of pamphlets, quaint trays holding pens and pencils, + and here too was always to be found, in summer or in winter, a big vase + full of roses or blossoms, or whatever was in season—a luxury he + never denied himself. + </p> + <p> + To this desk, then, Peter betook himself the moment he had hung his gray + surtout on its hook in the closet and disposed of his hat and umbrella. + This was his up-town office, really, and here his letters awaited him. + </p> + <p> + First came a notice of the next meeting of the Numismatic Society of which + he was an honored member; then a bill for his semi-annual dues at the + Century Club; next a delicately scented sheet inviting him to dine with + the Van Wormleys of Washington Square, to meet an English lord and his + lady, followed by a pressing letter to spend Sunday with friends in the + country. Then came a long letter from his sister, Miss Felicia Grayson, + who lived in the Genesee Valley and who came to New York every winter for + what she was pleased to call “The Season” (a very remarkable old lady, + this Miss Felicia Grayson, with a mind of her own, sections of which she + did not hesitate to ventilate when anybody crossed her or her path, and of + whom we shall hear more in these pages), together with the usual + assortment of bills and receipts, the whole an enlivening record not only + of Peter's daily life and range of taste, but of the limitations of his + purse as well. + </p> + <p> + One letter was reserved for the last. This he held in his hand until he + again ran his eye over the pile before him. It was from Holker Morris the + architect, a man who stood at the head of his profession. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Holker's handwriting,” he said as he inserted the end of the paper + cutter. “I wonder what the dear fellow wants now?” Here he ran his eye + over the first page. “Listen, Major. What an extraordinary man... He's + going to give a dinner, he says, to his draughtsmen... in his offices at + the top of his new building, six stories up. Does the rascal think I have + nothing to do but crawl up his stairs? Here, I'll read it to you.” + </p> + <p> + “'You, dear Peter:' That's just like Holker! He begins that way when he + wants me to do something for him. 'No use saying you won't come, for I + shall be around for you at seven o'clock with a club—'No, that's not + it—he writes so badly—'with a cab.' Yes, that's it—'with + a cab.' I wonder if he can drive me up those six flights of stairs? + 'There'll be something to eat, and drink, and there will be fifty or more + of my draughtsmen and former employees. I'm going to give them a dinner + and a house-warming. Bring the Major if you see him. I have sent a note to + his room, but it may not reach him. No dress suit, remember. Some of my + men wouldn't know one if they saw it.” + </p> + <p> + As the letter dropped from Peter's hand a scraping of feet was heard at + the hall door, followed by a cheery word from Mrs. McGuffey—she had + her favorites among Peter's friends—and Holker Morris burst into the + room. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, caught you both!” he cried, all out of breath with his run upstairs, + his hat still on his head. No one blew in and blew out of Peter's room + (literally so) with the breeze and dash of the distinguished architect. + “Into your coats, you two—we haven't a moment to spare. You got my + letter, of course,” he added, throwing back the cape of his raincoat. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Holker, just opened it!” cried Peter, holding out both hands to his + guest. “But I'm not going. I am too old for your young fellows—take + the Major and leave me behind.” + </p> + <p> + The architect grabbed Peter by the arm. “When did that mighty idea crack + its way through that shell of yours, you tottering Methusaleh! Old! You're + spryer than a frolicking lamb in March. You are coming, too, Major. Get + into your coats and things!” + </p> + <p> + “But Isaac is pressing my swallow-tail.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't mean your dress-coat, man—your OVERCOAT! Now I am sure you + didn't read my letter? Some of my young fellows haven't got such a thing—too + poor.” + </p> + <p> + “But look at YOURS!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I had to slip into mine out of respect to the occasion; my boys + wouldn't like it if I didn't. Sort of uniform to them, but they'd be + mighty uncomfortable if you wore yours. Hurry up, we haven't a minute to + lose.” + </p> + <p> + Peter had forced the architect into one of the big chairs by the fire by + this time, and stood bending over him, his hands resting on Morris's broad + shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Take the Major with you, that's a good fellow, and let me drop in about + eleven o'clock,” he pleaded, an expression on his face seen only when two + men understand and love each other. “There's a letter from Felicia to + attend to; she writes she is coming down for a couple of weeks, and then + I've really had a devil of a day at the bank.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you old fraud, you can't wheedle me that way. I want you before + everybody sits down, so my young chaps can look you over. Why, Peter, + you're better than a whole course of lectures, and you mean something, you + beggar! I tell you” (here he lifted himself from the depths of the chair + and scrambled to his feet) “you've got to go if I have to tie your hands + and feet and carry you downstairs on my back! And you, too, Major—both + of you. Here's your overcoat—into it, you humbug!... the other arm. + Is this your hat? Out you go!” and before I had stopped laughing—I + had refused to crowd the cab—Morris had buttoned the surtout over + Peter's breast, crammed the straight-brimmed hat over his eyes, and the + two were clattering downstairs. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III + </h2> + <p> + Long before the two had reached the top floor of the building in which the + dinner was to be given, they had caught the hum of the merrymakers, the + sound bringing a smile of satisfaction to Peter's face, but it was when he + entered the richly colored room itself, hazy with cigarette smoke, and + began to look into the faces of the guests grouped about him and down the + long table illumined by myriads of wax candles that all his doubts and + misgivings faded into thin air. Never since his school days, he told me + afterwards, had he seen so many boisterously happy young fellows grouped + together. And not only young fellows, with rosy cheeks and bright eyes, + but older men with thoughtful faces, who had relinquished for a day the + charge of some one of the important buildings designed in the + distinguished architect's office, and had spent the night on the train + that they might do honor to their Chief. + </p> + <p> + But it was when Morris, with his arm fast locked in his, began introducing + him right and left as the “Guest of Honor of the Evening,” the two shaking + hands first with one and then another, Morris breaking out into joyous + salvos of welcome over some arrival from a distant city, or greeting with + marked kindness and courtesy one of the younger men from his own office, + that the old fellow's enthusiasm became uncontrollable. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't it glorious, Holker!” he cried joyously, with uplifted hands. “Oh, + I'm so glad I came! I wouldn't have missed this for anything in the world. + Did you ever see anything like it? This is classic, my boy—it has + the tang and the spice of the ancients.” + </p> + <p> + Morris's greeting to me was none the less hearty, although he had left me + but half an hour before. + </p> + <p> + “Late, as I expected, Major,” he cried with out-stretched hand, “and + serves you right for not sitting in Peter's lap in the cab. Somebody ought + to sit on him once in a while. He's twenty years younger already. Here, + take this seat alongside of me where you can keep him in order—they + were at table when I entered. Waiter, bring back that bottle—Just a + light claret, Major—all we allow ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + As the evening wore away the charm of the room grew upon me. Vistas hazy + with tobacco smoke opened up; the ceiling lost in the fog gave one the + impression of out-of-doors—like a roof-garden at night; a delusion + made all the more real by the happy uproar. And then the touches here and + there by men whose life had been the study of color and effects; the + appointments of the table, the massing of flowers relieving the white + cloth; the placing of shaded candles, so that only a rosy glow filtered + through the room, softening the light on the happy faces—each scalp + crowned with chaplets of laurel tied with red ribbons: an enchantment of + color, form and light where but an hour before only the practical and the + commonplace had held sway. + </p> + <p> + No vestige of the business side of the offices remained. Peter pointed out + to me a big plaster model of the State House, which filled one end of the + room, and two great figures, original plaster casts, heroic in size, that + Harding, the sculptor, had modelled for either side of the entrance of the + building; but everything that smacked of T-square or scale was hidden from + sight. In their place, lining the walls, stood a row of standards of red + and orange silk, stretched on rods and supported by poles; the same + patterns of banners which were carried before Imperial Caesars when they + took an airing; and now emblazoned with the titles of the several + structures conceived in the brain of Holker Morris and executed by his + staff: the Imperial Library in Tokio; the great Corn Exchange covering a + city block; the superb Art Museum crowning the highest hill in the Park; + the beautiful chateau of the millionaire surrounded by thousands of acres + of virgin forest; the spacious warehouses on the water front, and many + others. + </p> + <p> + With the passing of the flagons an electric current of good fellowship + flashed around the circle. Stories that would have been received with but + a bare smile at the club were here greeted with shouts of laughter. + Bon-mots, skits, puns and squibs mouldy with age or threadbare with use, + were told with a new gusto and welcomed with delight. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly, and without any apparent reason, these burst forth a roar like + that of a great orchestra with every instrument played at its loudest—rounds + of applause from kettle-drums, trombones and big horns; screams of + laughter from piccolos, clarionettes and flutes, buzzings of subdued talk + by groups of bass viols and the lesser strings, the whole broken by the + ringing notes of a song that soared for an instant clear of the din, only + to be overtaken and drowned in the mighty shout of approval. This was + followed by a stampede from the table; the banners were caught up with a + mighty shout and carried around the room; Morris, boy for the moment, + springing to his feet and joining in the uproar. + </p> + <p> + The only guest who kept his chair, except Peter and myself, was a young + fellow two seats away, whose eyes, brilliant with excitement, followed the + merrymaking, but who seemed too much abashed, or too ill at ease, to join + in the fun. I had noticed how quiet he was and wondered at the cause. + Peter had also been watching the boy and had said to me that he had a good + face and was evidently from out of town. + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you get up?” Peter called to him at last. “Up with you, my lad. + This is one of the times when every one of you young fellows should be on + your feet.” He would have grabbed a banner himself had any one given him + the slightest encouragement. + </p> + <p> + “I would, sir, but I'm out of it,” said the young man with a deferential + bow, moving to the empty seat next to Peter. He too had been glancing at + Peter from time to time. + </p> + <p> + “Aren't you with Mr. Morris?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I wish I were. I came with my friend, Garry Minott, that young fellow + carrying the banner with 'Corn Exchange' marked on it.” + </p> + <p> + “And may I ask, then, what you do?” continued Peter. + </p> + <p> + The young fellow looked into the older man's kindly eyes—something + in their expression implied a wish to draw him the closer—and said + quite simply: “I don't do anything that is of any use, sir. Garry says + that I might as well work in a faro bank.” + </p> + <p> + Peter leaned forward. For the moment the hubbub was forgotten as he + scrutinized the young man, who seemed scarcely twenty-one, his well-knit, + well-dressed body, his soft brown hair curled about his scalp, cleanly + modelled ears, steady brown eyes, white teeth—especially the mobile + lips which seemed quivering from some suppressed emotion—all telling + of a boy delicately nurtured. + </p> + <p> + “And do you really work in a faro bank?” Peter's knowledge of human nature + had failed him for once. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no sir, that is only one of Garry's jokes. I'm clerk in a stock + broker's office on Wall Street. Arthur Breen & Company. My uncle is + head of the firm.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that's it, is it?” answered Peter in a relieved tone. + </p> + <p> + “And now will you tell me what your business is, sir?” asked the young + man. “You seem so different from the others.” + </p> + <p> + “Me! Oh, I take care of the money your gamblers win,” replied Peter, at + which they both laughed, a spark of sympathy being kindled between them. + </p> + <p> + Then, seeing the puzzled expression on the boy's face, he added with a + smile: “I'm Receiving Teller in a bank, one of the oldest in Wall Street.” + </p> + <p> + A look of relief passed over the young fellow's face. + </p> + <p> + “I'm very glad, sir,” he said, with a smile. “Do you know, sir, you look + something like my own father—what I can remember of him—that + is, he was—” The lad checked himself, fearing he might be + discourteous. “That is, he had lost his hair, sir, and he wore his cravats + like you, too. I have his portrait in my room.” + </p> + <p> + Peter leaned still closer to the speaker. This time he laid his hand on + his arm. The tumult around him made conversation almost impossible. “And + now tell me your name?” + </p> + <p> + “My name is Breen, sir. John Breen. I live with my uncle.” + </p> + <p> + The roar of the dinner now became so fast and furious that further + confidences were impossible. The banners had been replaced and every one + was reseated, talking or laughing. On one side raged a discussion as to + how far the decoration of a plain surface should go—“Roughing it,” + some of them called it. At the end of the table two men were wrangling as + to whether the upper or the lower half of a tall structure should have its + vertical lines broken; and, if so, by what. Further down high-keyed voices + were crying out against the abomination of the flat roof on the more + costly buildings; wondering whether some of their clients would wake up to + the necessity of breaking the sky-line with something less ugly—even + if it did cost a little more. Still a third group were in shouts of + laughter over a story told by one of the staff who had just returned from + an inspection trip west. + </p> + <p> + Young Breen looked down the length of the table, watched for a moment a + couple of draughtsmen who stood bowing and drinking to each other in mock + ceremony out of the quaint glasses filled from the borrowed flagons, then + glanced toward his friend Minott, just then the centre of a cyclone that + was stirring the group midway the table. + </p> + <p> + “Come over here, Garry,” he called, half rising to his feet to attract his + friend's attention. + </p> + <p> + Minott waved his hand in answer, waited until the point of the story had + been reached, and made his way toward Peter's end of the table. + </p> + <p> + “Garry,” he whispered, “I want to introduce you to Mr. Grayson—the + very dearest old gentleman you ever met in your whole life. Sits right + next to me.” + </p> + <p> + “What, that old fellow that looks like a billiard ball in a high collar?” + muttered Minott with a twinkle in his eye. “We've been wondering where Mr. + Morris dug him up.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush,” said Breen—“he'll hear you.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, but hurry up. I must say he doesn't look near so bad when you + get close to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Grayson, I want you to know my friend Garry Minott.” + </p> + <p> + Peter rose to his feet. “I DO know him,” he said, holding out his hand + cordially. “I've been knowing him all the evening. He's made most of the + fun at his end of the table. You seem to have flaunted your Corn Exchange + banner on the smallest provocation, Mr. Minott,” and Peter's fingers + gripped those of the young man. + </p> + <p> + “That's because I've been in charge of the inside work. Great dinner, + isn't it, Mr. Grayson. But it's Britton who has made the dinner. He's more + fun than a Harlem goat with a hoopskirt. See him—that's Brit with a + red head and blue neck-tie. He's been all winter in Wisconsin looking + after some iron work and has come back jam full of stories.” The dignity + of Peter's personality had evidently not impressed the young man, judging + from the careless tone with which he addressed him. “And how are you + getting on, Jack—glad you came, ar'n't you?” As he spoke he laid his + hand affectionately on the boy's shoulder. “Didn't I tell you it would be + a corker? Out of sight, isn't it? Everything is out of sight around our + office.” This last remark was directed to Peter in the same casual way. + </p> + <p> + “I should say that every stopper was certainly out,” answered Peter in + graver tones. He detested slang and would never understand it. Then again + the bearing and air of Jack's friend jarred on him. “You know, of course, + the old couplet—'When the wine flows the—'” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't know it,” interrupted Minott with an impatient glance. “I'm + not much on poetry—but you can bet your bottom dollar it's flowing + all right.” Then seeing the shade of disappointment on Breen's face at the + flippant way in which he had returned Peter's courtesies, but without + understanding the cause, he added, tightening his arm around his friend's + neck, “Brace up, Jack, old man, and let yourself go. That's what I'm + always telling Jack, Mr. Grayson. He's got to cut loose from a lot of + old-fashioned notions that he brought from home if he wants to get + anywhere around here. I had to.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you want him to give up, Mr. Minott?” Peter had put on his + glasses now, and was inspecting Garry at closer range. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't know—just get into the swing of things and let her go.” + </p> + <p> + “That is no trouble for you to do,” rejoined Jack, looking into his + friend's face. “You're doing something that's worth while.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, aren't you doing something that's worth while? Why you'll be a + millionaire if you keep on. First thing you know the lightning will strike + you just as it did your uncle.” + </p> + <p> + Morris leaned forward at the moment and called Minott by name. Instantly + the young man's manner changed to one of respectful attention as he + stepped to his Chief's side. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mr. Morris.” + </p> + <p> + “You tell the men up your way to get ready to come to order, or we won't + get through in time—it's getting late.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, sir, I'll take care of 'em. Just as soon as you begin to speak + you won't hear a sound.” + </p> + <p> + As Minott moved from Morris's seat another and louder shout arose from the + other end of the table: + </p> + <p> + “Garry, Garry, hurry up!” came the cry. It was evident the young man was + very popular. + </p> + <p> + Peter dropped his glasses from his nose, and turning toward Morris said in + a low voice: + </p> + <p> + “That's a very breezy young man, Holker, the one who has just left us. Got + something in him, has he, besides noise?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, considerable. Wants toning down once in a while, but there's no + question of his ability or of his loyalty. He never shirks a duty and + never forgets a kindness. Queer combination when you think of it, Peter. + What he will make of himself is another matter.” + </p> + <p> + Peter drew his body back and sent his thoughts out on an investigating + tour. He was wondering what effect the influence of a young man like + Minott would have on a young man like Breen. + </p> + <p> + The waiters at this point brought in huge trays holding bowls of tobacco + and long white clay pipes, followed by even larger trays bearing coffee in + little cups. Morris waited a moment and then rapped for order. Instantly a + hush fell upon the noisy room; plates and glasses were pushed back so as + to give the men elbow room; pipes were hurriedly lighted, and each guest + turned his chair so as to face the Chief, who was now on his feet. + </p> + <p> + As he stood erect, one hand behind his back, the other stretched toward + the table in his appeal for silence, I thought for the hundredth time how + kind his fifty years had been to him; how tightly knit his figure; how + well his clothes became him. A handsome, well-groomed man at all times and + in any costume—but never so handsome or so well groomed as in + evening dress. Everything in his make-up helped: the broad, square + shoulders, arms held close to his side; flat waist; incurving back and + narrow hips. His well-modelled, aristocratic head, too, seemed to gain + increased distinction when it rose clear from a white shirt-front which + served as a kind of marble pedestal for his sculptured head. There was, + moreover, in his every move and look, that quality of transparent + sincerity which always won him friends at sight. “If men's faces are + clocks,” Peter always said, “Holker's is fitted with a glass dial. You can + not only see what time it is, but you can see the wheels that move his + heart.” + </p> + <p> + He was about to speak now, his eyes roaming the room waiting for the last + man to be still. No fumbling of glasses or rearranging of napkin, but + erect, with a certain fearless air that was as much a part of his nature + as was his genius. Beginning in a clear, distinct voice which reached + every ear in the room, he told them first how welcome they were. How great + an honor it was for him to have them so close to him—so close that + he could look into all their faces with one glance; not only those who + came from a distance but those of his personal staff, to whom really the + success of the year's work had been due. As for himself, he was, as they + knew, only the lead horse in the team, going ahead to show them the way, + while they did the effective pulling that brought the load to market! Here + he slipped his hand in his pocket, took from it a small box which he laid + beside his plate, and continued: + </p> + <p> + “At these festivals, as you know, and if my memory serves me this is our + third, it has always been our custom to give some slight token of our + appreciation to the man who has done most during the year to further the + work of the office. This has always been a difficult thing to decide, + because every one of you, without a single exception, has given the best + that is in you in the general result. Three years ago, you remember, it + was awarded to the man who by common consent had carried to completion, + and without a single error, the detailed drawings of the Museum which was + finished last year. I am looking at you, Mr. Downey, and again + congratulate you. Last year it was awarded to Mr. Buttrick for the + masterly way with which he put together the big arches of the Government + warehouses—a man whom it would have been my pleasure to congratulate + again to-night had it been possible for him to reach us. To-night I think + you will all agree with me that this small token, not only of my own, but + of your 'personal regard and appreciation'” (here he opened the box and + took from it a man's ring set with three jewels), “should be given to the + man who has carried out in so thorough a way the part allotted to him in + the Corn Exchange, and who is none other than Mr. Garrison Minott, who for—” + </p> + <p> + The rest of the sentence was lost in the uproar. + </p> + <p> + “Garry! Garry! Garry Minott!” came from all parts of the room. “Bully for + Garry! You deserve it, old man! Three cheers for Garry Minott! Hip... + Hip...!” + </p> + <p> + Morris's voice now dominated the room. + </p> + <p> + “Come this way, Mr. Minott.” + </p> + <p> + The face of the young superintendent, which had been in a broad laugh all + the evening, grew white and red by turns. Out of pure astonishment he + could neither move nor speak. + </p> + <p> + “All right—stay where you are!” cried Morris laughing. “Pass it up + to him, please.” + </p> + <p> + John Breen sprang from his chair with the alertness of a man who had been + accustomed to follow his impulse. In his joy over his friend's good + fortune he forgot his embarrassment, forgot that he was a stranger; forgot + that he alone, perhaps, was the only young man in the room whose life and + training had not fitted him for the fullest enjoyment of what was passing + around him; forgot everything, in fact, but that his comrade, his friend, + his chum, had won the highest honors his Chief could bestow. + </p> + <p> + With cheeks aflame he darted to Morris's chair. + </p> + <p> + “Let me hand it to him, sir,” he cried, all the love for his friend in his + eyes, seizing the ring and plunging toward Garry, the shouts increasing as + he neared his side and placed the prize in his hand. Only then did Minott + find his breath and his feet. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mr. Morris!—Why, fellows!—Why, there's plenty of men in + the office who have done more than I have to—” + </p> + <p> + Then he sat down, the ring fast in his hand. + </p> + <p> + When the applause had subside—the young fellow's modesty had caused + a fresh outburst—Morris again rose in his chair and once more the + room grew still. + </p> + <p> + “Twelve o'clock, gentlemen,” he said. “Mr. Downey, you are always our + stand-by in starting the old hymn.” + </p> + <p> + The diners—host and guests alike—rose to their feet as one + man. Then to Peter's and my own intense surprise that most impressive of + all chants, the Doxology in long metre, surged out, gaining in volume and + strength as its strains were caught up by the different voices. + </p> + <p> + With the ending of the grand old hymn—it had been sung with every + mark of respect by every man in the room—John Breen walked back to + his chair, leaned toward Peter, and with an apologetic tone in his voice—he + had evidently noticed the unfavorable impression that Garry had made on + his neighbor—said: + </p> + <p> + “Don't misjudge Garry, Mr. Grayson; he's the kindest hearted fellow in the + world when you know him. He's a little rough sometimes, as you can see, + but he doesn't mean it. He thinks his way of talking and acting is what he + calls 'up-to-date.'” Then he added with a sigh: “I wish I had a ring like + that—one that I had earned. I tell you, Mr. Grayson, THAT'S + something worth while.” + </p> + <p> + Peter laid his hand on the young man's shoulder and looked him straight in + the face, the same look in his eyes that a proud father would have given a + son who had pleased him. He had heard with delight the boy's defence of + his friend and he had read the boy's mind as he sang the words of the + hymn, his face grave, his whole attitude one of devotion. “You'd think he + was in his father's pew at home,” Peter had whispered to me with a smile. + It was the latter outburst though—the one that came with a sigh—that + stirred him most. + </p> + <p> + “And you would really have liked a ring yourself, my lad?” + </p> + <p> + “Would I like it! Why, Mr. Grayson, I'd rather have had Mr. Morris give me + a thing like that and DESERVED IT, than have all the money you could pile + on this table.” + </p> + <p> + One of those sudden smiles which his friends loved so well irradiated + Peter's face. + </p> + <p> + “Keep on the way you're going, my son,” he said, seizing the boy's hand, a + slight tremble in his voice, “and you'll get a dozen of them.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” The boy's eyes were wide in wonderment. + </p> + <p> + “By being yourself. Don't let go of your ideals no matter what Minott or + anybody else says. Let him go his way and do you keep on in yours. + Don't... but I can't talk here. Come and see me. I mean it.” + </p> + <p> + Breen's eyes glistened. “When?” + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow night, at my rooms. Here's my card. And you, too, Mr. Minott—glad + to see both of you.” Garry has just joined them. + </p> + <p> + “Thanks awfully,” answered Minott. “I'm very sorry, Mr. Grayson, but I'm + booked for a supper at the Magnolia. Lot of the fellows want to whoop up + this—” and he held the finger bearing the ring within an inch of + Peter's nose. “And they want you, too, Jack.” + </p> + <p> + “No, please let me have him,” Peter urged. Minott, I could see, he did not + want; Breen he was determined to have. + </p> + <p> + “I would love to come, sir, and it's very kind of you to ask me. There's + to be a dance at my uncle's tomorrow night, though I reckon I can be + excused. Would you—would you come to see me instead? I want you to + see my father's portrait. It's not you, and yet it's like you when you + turn your head; and there are some other things. I'd like—” Here the + boy stopped. + </p> + <p> + Peter considered for a moment. Calling at the house of a man he did not + know, even to continue the acquaintance of so charming a young fellow as + his nephew, was not one of the things punctilious Mr. Grayson—punctilious + as to forms of etiquette—was accustomed to do. The young man read + his thoughts and added quickly: + </p> + <p> + “Of course I'll do just as you say, but if you only would come we will be + entirely alone and won't see anybody else in the house.” + </p> + <p> + “But couldn't you possibly come to me?” Peter urged. The fact that young + Breen had a suite of rooms so sequestered as to be beyond the reach even + of a dance, altered the situation to some extent, but he was still + undecided. “I live all alone when my sister is not with me, and I, too, + have many things I am sure would interest you. Say you'll come now—I + shall expect you, shall I not?” + </p> + <p> + The boy hesitated. “You may not know exactly what I mean,” he said slowly. + “Maybe you can't understand, for everybody about here seems to love you, + and you must have lots of friends. The fact is, I feel out of everything. + I get pretty lonely sometimes. Garry, here, never stays five minutes when + he comes to see me, so many people are after him all the time. Please say + you'll come!” + </p> + <p> + There was a note in the boy's voice that swept away all the older man's + scruples. + </p> + <p> + “Come, my son! Of course I'll come,” burst out Peter. “I'll be there at + nine o'clock.” + </p> + <p> + As Morris and the others passed between the table and the wall on their + way to the cloak-room, Minott, who had listened to the whole conversation, + waited until he thought Peter had gone ahead, and then, with an impatient + gesture, said: + </p> + <p> + “What the devil, Jack, do you want to waste your time over an old fellow + like that for?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Garry, don't—” + </p> + <p> + “Don't! A bald-headed old pill who ought to have—” + </p> + <p> + Then the two passed out of hearing. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV + </h2> + <p> + Breakfast—any meal for that matter—in the high-wainscoted, + dark-as-a-pocket dining-room of the successful Wall Street broker—the + senior member of the firm of A. Breen & Co., uncle, guardian and + employer of the fresh, rosy-cheeked lad who sat next to Peter on the night + of Morris's dinner, was never a joyous function. + </p> + <p> + The room itself, its light shut out by the adjoining extensions, prevented + it; so did the glimpse of hard asphalt covering the scrap of a yard, its + four melancholy posts hung about with wire clothes-lines; and so did the + clean-shaven, smug-faced butler, who invariably conducted his master's + guests to their chairs with the movement of an undertaker, and who had + never been known to crack a smile of any kind, long or short, during his + five years' sojourn with the family of Breen. + </p> + <p> + Not that anybody wanted Parkins to crack one, that is, not his master, and + certainly not his mistress, and most assuredly not his other mistress, + Miss Corinne, the daughter of the lady whom the successful Wall Street + broker had made his first and only wife. + </p> + <p> + All this gloomy atmosphere might have been changed for the better had + there been a big, cheery open wood fire snapping and blazing away, + sputtering out its good morning as you entered—and there would have + been if any one of the real inmates had insisted upon it—fought for + it, if necessary; or if in summer one could have seen through the + curtained windows a stretch of green grass with here and there a tree, or + one or two twisted vines craning their necks to find out what was going on + inside; or if in any or all seasons, a wholesome, happy-hearted, sunny + wife looking like a bunch of roses just out of a bath, had sat behind the + smoking coffee-urn, inquiring whether one or two lumps of sugar would be + enough; or a gladsome daughter who, in a sudden burst of affection, had + thrown her arms around her father's neck and kissed him because she loved + him, and because she wanted his day and her day to begin that way:—if, + I say, there had been all, or one-half, or one-quarter of these things, + the atmosphere of this sepulchral interior might have been improved—but + there wasn't. + </p> + <p> + There was a wife, of course, a woman two years older than Arthur Breen—the + relict of a Captain Barker, an army officer—who had spent her early + life in moving from one army post to another until she had settled down in + Washington, where Breen had married her, and where the Scribe first met + her. But this sharer of the fortunes of Breen preferred her breakfast in + bed, New York life having proved even more wearing than military + upheavals. And there was also a daughter, Miss Corinne Barker, Captain and + Mrs. Barker's only offspring, who had known nothing of army posts, except + as a child, but who had known everything of Washington life from the time + she was twelve until she was fifteen, and she was now twenty; but that + young woman, I regret to say, also breakfasted in bed, where her maid had + special instructions not to disturb her until my lady's jewelled fingers + touched a button within reach of her dainty hand; whereupon another + instalment of buttered rolls and coffee would be served with such + accessories of linen, porcelain and silver as befitted the appetite and + station of one so beautiful and so accomplished. + </p> + <p> + These conditions never ceased to depress Jack. Fresh from a life out of + doors, accustomed to an old-fashioned dining-room—the living room, + really, of the family who had cared for him since his father's death, + where not only the sun made free with the open doors and windows, but the + dogs and neighbors as well—the sober formality of this early meal—all + of his uncle's meals, for that matter—sent shivers down his back + that chilled him to the bone. + </p> + <p> + He had looked about him the first morning of his arrival, had noted the + heavy carved sideboard laden with the garish silver; had examined the + pictures lining the walls, separated from the dark background of leather + by heavy gold frames; had touched with his fingers the dial of the solemn + bronze clock, flanked by its equally solemn candelabra; had peered between + the steel andirons, bright as carving knives, and into the freshly + varnished, spacious chimney up which no dancing blaze had ever whirled in + madcap glee since the mason's trowel had left it and never would to the + end of time,—not as long as the steam heat held out; had watched the + crane-like step of Parkins as he moved about the room—cold, + immaculate, impassive; had listened to his “Yes, sir—thank you, sir, + very good, sir,” until he wanted to take him by the throat and shake + something spontaneous and human out of him, and as each cheerless feature + passed in review his spirits had sunk lower and lower. + </p> + <p> + This, then, was what he could expect as long as he lived under his uncle's + roof—a period of time which seemed to him must stretch out into dim + futurity. No laughing halloos from passing neighbors through wide-open + windows; no Aunt Hannahs running in with a plate of cakes fresh from the + griddle which would cool too quickly if she waited for that slow-coach of + a Tom to bring them to her young master. No sweep of leaf-covered hills + seen through bending branches laden with blossoms; no stretch of sky or + slant of sunshine; only a grim, funereal, artificial formality, as + ungenial and flattening to a boy of his tastes, education and earlier + environment as a State asylum's would have been to a red Indian fresh from + the prairie. + </p> + <p> + On the morning after Morris's dinner (within eight hours really of the + time when he had been so thrilled by the singing of the Doxology), Jack + was in his accustomed seat at the small, adjustable accordion-built table—it + could be stretched out to accommodate twenty-four covers—when his + uncle entered this room. Parkins was genuflecting at the time with his—“Cream, + sir,—yes, sir. Devilled kidney, sir? Thank you, sir.” (Parkins had + been second man with Lord Colchester, so he told Breen when he hired him.) + Jack had about made up his mind to order him out when a peculiar tone in + his uncle's “Good morning” made the boy scan that gentleman's face and + figure the closer. + </p> + <p> + His uncle was as well dressed as usual, looking as neat and as smart in + his dark cut-away coat with the invariable red carnation in his + buttonhole, but the boy's quick eye caught the marks of a certain wear and + tear in the face which neither his bath nor his valet had been able to + obliterate. The thin lips—thin for a man so fat, and which showed, + more than any other feature, something of the desultory firmness of his + character—drooped at the corners. The eyes were half their size, the + snap all out of them, the whites lost under the swollen lids. His + greeting, moreover, had lost its customary heartiness. + </p> + <p> + “You were out late, I hear,” he grumbled, dropping into his chair. “I + didn't get in myself until two o'clock and feel like a boiled owl. May + have caught a little cold, but I think it was that champagne of + Duckworth's; always gives me a headache. Don't put any sugar and cream in + that coffee, Parkins—want it straight.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” replied the flunky, moving toward the sideboard. + </p> + <p> + “And now, Jack, what did you do?” he continued, picking up his napkin. + “You and Garry made a night of it, didn't you? Some kind of an artist's + bat, wasn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir; Mr. Morris gave a dinner to his clerks, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Who's Morris?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, the great architect.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that fellow! Yes, I know him, that is, I know who he is. Say the + rest. Parkins! didn't I tell you I didn't want any sugar or cream.” + </p> + <p> + Parkins hadn't offered any. He had only forgotten to remove them from the + tray. + </p> + <p> + Jack kept straight on; these differences between the master and Parkins + were of daily occurrence. + </p> + <p> + “And, Uncle Arthur, I met the most wonderful gentleman I ever saw; he + looked just as if he had stepped out of an old frame, and yet he is down + in the Street every day and—” + </p> + <p> + “What firm?” + </p> + <p> + “No firm, he is—” + </p> + <p> + “Curbstone man, then?” Here Breen lifted the cup to his lips and as + quickly put it down. “Parkins!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” came the monotone. + </p> + <p> + “Why the devil can't I get my coffee hot?” + </p> + <p> + “Is it cold, sir?”—slight modulation, but still lifeless. + </p> + <p> + “IS IT COLD? Of course it's cold! Might have been standing in a morgue. + Take that down and have some fresh coffee sent up. Servants running o'er + each other and yet I can't get a—Go on, Jack! I didn't mean to + interrupt, but I'll clean the whole lot of 'em out of here if I don't get + better service.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Uncle Arthur, he isn't a banker—isn't even a broker; he's only + a paying teller in a bank,” continued Jack. + </p> + <p> + The older man turned his head and a look of surprise swept over his round, + fat face. + </p> + <p> + “Teller in a BANK?” he asked in an altered tone. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the most charming, the most courteous old gentleman I have ever met; + I haven't seen anybody like him since I left home, and, just think, he has + promised to come and see me to-night.” + </p> + <p> + The drooping lips straightened and a shrewd, searching glance shot from + Arthur Breen's eyes. There was a brain behind this sleepy face—as + many of his competitors knew. It was not always in working order, but when + it was the man became another personality. + </p> + <p> + “Jack—” The voice was now as thin as the drawn lips permitted, with + caution in every tone, “you stop short off. You mustn't cotton to + everybody you pick up in New York—it won't do. Get you into trouble. + Don't bring him here; your aunt won't like it. When you get into a hole + with a fellow and can't help yourself, take him to the club. That's one of + the things I got you into the Magnolia for; but don't ever bring 'em + here.” + </p> + <p> + “But he's a personal friend of Mr. Morris, and a friend of another friend + of Mr. Morris's they called 'Major.'” It was not the first time he had + heard such inhospitable suggestions from his uncle. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I know; they've all got some old retainers hanging on that they + give a square meal to once a year, but don't you get mixed up with 'em.” + </p> + <p> + Parkins had returned by this time and was pouring a fresh cup of coffee. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Parkins, that's something like—No, I don't want any kidneys—I + don't want any toast—I don't want anything, Parkins—haven't I + told you so?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; thank you sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Black coffee is the only thing that'll settle this head. What you want to + do, Jack, is to send that old fossil word that you've got another + engagement, and... Parkins, is there anything going on here to-night?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; Miss Corinne is giving a small dance.” + </p> + <p> + “There, Jack—that's it. That'll let you out with a whole skin.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I can't, and I won't, Uncle Arthur,” he answered in an indignant + tone. “If you knew him as I do, and had seen him last night, you would—” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't want to know him and I don't want to see him. You are all + balled up, I see, and can't work loose, but take him upstairs; don't let + your aunt come across him or she'll have a fit.” Here he glanced at the + bronze clock. “What!—ten minutes past nine! Parkins, see if my cab + is at the door.... Jack, you ride down with me. I walked when I was your + age, and got up at daylight. Some difference, Jack, isn't there, whether + you've got a rich uncle to look after you or not.” This last came with a + wink. + </p> + <p> + It was only one of his pleasantries. He knew he was not rich; not in the + accepted sense. He might be a small star in the myriads forming the + Milky-Way of Finance, but there were planets millions of miles beyond him, + whose brilliancy he was sure he could never equal. The fact was that the + money which he had accumulated had been so much greater sum than he had + ever hoped for when he was a boy in a Western State—his father went + to Iowa in '49—and the changes in his finances had come with such + lightning rapidity (half a million made on a tip given him by a friend, + followed by other tips more or less profitable) that he loved to pat his + pride, so to speak, in speeches like this. + </p> + <p> + That he had been swept off his feet by the social and financial rush about + him was quite natural. His wife, whose early life had been one long + economy, had ambitions to which there was no limit and her escape from her + former thraldom had been as sudden and as swift as the upward spring of a + loosened balloon. Then again all the money needed to make the ascension + successful was at her disposal. Hence jewels, laces, and clothes; hence + elaborate dinners, the talk of the town: hence teas, receptions, opera + parties, week-end parties at their hired country seat on Long Island; + dances for Corinne; dinners for Corinne; birthday parties for Corinne; + everything, in fact, for Corinne, from manicures to pug dogs and hunters. + </p> + <p> + His two redeeming qualities were his affection for his wife and his + respect for his word. He had no child of his own, and Corinne, though + respectful never showed him any affection. He had sent Jack to a Southern + school and college, managing meanwhile the little property his father had + left him, which, with some wild lands in the Cumberland Mountains, + practically worthless, was the boy's whole inheritance, and of late had + treated him as if he had been his own son. + </p> + <p> + As to his own affairs, close as he sailed to the wind in his money + transactions—so close sometimes that the Exchange had more than once + overhauled his dealings—it was generally admitted that when Arthur + Breen gave his WORD—a difficult thing often to get—he never + broke it. This was offset by another peculiarity with less beneficial + results: When he had once done a man a service only to find him + ungrateful, no amount of apologies or atonement thereafter ever moved him + to forgiveness. Narrow-gauge men are sometimes built that way. + </p> + <p> + It was to be expected, therefore, considering the quality of Duckworth's + champagne and the impression made on Jack by his uncle's outburst, that + the ride down town in the cab was marked by anything but cheerful + conversation between Breen and his nephew, each of whom sat absorbed in + his own reflections. “I didn't mean to be hard on the boy,” ruminated + Breen, “but if I had picked up everybody who wanted to know me, as Jack + has done, where would I be now?” Then, his mind still clouded by the night + at the club (he had not confined himself entirely to champagne), he began, + as was his custom, to concentrate his attention upon the work of the day—on + the way the market would open; on the remittance a belated customer had + promised and about which he had some doubt; the meeting of the board of + directors in the new mining company—“The Great Mukton Lode,” in + which he had an interest, and a large one—etc. + </p> + <p> + Jack looked out of the windows, his eyes taking in the remnants of the + autumnal tints in the Park, now nearly gone, the crowd filling the + sidewalks; the lumbering stages and the swifter-moving horse-cars crammed + with eager men anxious to begin the struggle of the day—not with + their hands—that mob had swept past hours before—but with + their brains—wits against wits and the devil take the man who slips + and falls. + </p> + <p> + Nothing of it all interested him. His mind was on the talk at the + breakfast table, especially his uncle's ideas of hospitality, all of which + had appalled and disgusted him. With his father there had always been a + welcome for every one, no matter what the position in life, the only + standard being one of breeding and character—and certainly Peter had + both. His uncle had helped him, of course—put him under obligations + he could never repay. Yet after all, it was proved now to him that he was + but a guest in the house enjoying only such rights as any other guest + might possess, and with no voice in the welcome—a condition which + would never be altered, until he became independent himself—a + possibility which at the moment was too remote to be considered. Then his + mind reverted to his conversation the night before with Mr. Grayson and + with this change of thought his father's portrait—the one that hung + in his room—loomed up. He had the night before turned on the lights—to + their fullest—and had scanned the picture closely, eager to find + some trace of Peter in the counterfeit presentment of the man he loved + best, and whose memory was still almost a religion, but except that both + Peter and his father were bald, and that both wore high, old-fashioned + collars and neck-cloths, he had been compelled to admit with a sigh that + there was nothing about the portrait on which to base the slightest claim + to resemblance. + </p> + <p> + “Yet he's like my father, he is, he is,” he kept repeating to himself as + the cab sped on. “I'll find out what it is when I know him better. + To-night when Mr. Grayson comes I'll study it out,” and a joyous smile + flashed across his features as he thought of the treat in store for him. + </p> + <p> + When at last the boy reached his office, where, behind the mahogany + partition with its pigeon-hole cut through the glass front he sat every + day, he swung back the doors of the safe, took out his books and papers + and made ready for work. He had charge of the check book, and he alone + signed the firm's name outside of the partners. “Rather young,” one of + them protested, until he looked into the boy's face, then he gave his + consent; something better than years of experience and discretion are + wanted where a scratch of a pen might mean financial ruin. + </p> + <p> + Breen had preceded him with but a nod to his clerks, and had disappeared + into his private office—another erection of ground glass and + mahogany. Here the senior member of the firm shut the door carefully, and + turning his back fished up a tiny key attached to a chain leading to the + rear pocket of his trousers. With this he opened a small closet near his + desk—a mere box of a closet—took from it a squatty-shaped + decanter labelled “Rye, 1840,” poured out half a glass, emptied it into + his person with one gulp, and with the remark in a low voice to himself + that he was now “copper fastened inside and out”—removed all traces + of the incident and took up his morning's mail. + </p> + <p> + By this time the circle of chairs facing the huge blackboard in the + spacious outer office had begun to fill up. Some of the customers, before + taking their seats, hurried anxiously to the ticker, chattering away in + its glass case; others turned abruptly and left the room without a word. + Now and then a customer would dive into Breen's private room, remain a + moment and burst out again, his face an index of the condition of his bank + account. + </p> + <p> + When the chatter of the ticker had shifted from the London quotations to + the opening sales on the Exchange, a sallow-faced clerk mounted a low + step-ladder and swept a scurry of chalk marks over the huge blackboard, + its margin lettered with the initials of the principal stocks. The + appearance of this nimble-fingered young man with his piece of chalk + always impressed Jack as a sort of vaudeville performance. On ordinary + days, with the market lifeless, but half of the orchestra seats would be + occupied. In whirl-times, with the ticker spelling ruin, not only were the + chairs full, but standing room only was available in the offices. + </p> + <p> + Their occupants came from all classes; clerks from up-town dry-goods + houses, who had run down during lunch time to see whether U.P. or Erie, or + St. Paul had moved up an eighth, or down a quarter, since they had + devoured the morning papers on their way to town; old speculators who had + spent their lives waiting buzzard-like for some calamity, enabling them to + swoop down and make off with what fragments they could pick up; + well-dressed, well-fed club men, who had had a run of luck and who never + carried less than a thousand shares to keep their hands in; gray-haired + novices nervously rolling little wads of paper between their fingers and + thumbs—up every few minutes to listen to the talk of the ticker, too + anxious to wait until the sallow-faced young man with the piece of chalk + could make his record on the board. Some of them had gathered together + their last dollar. Two per cent. or one percent, or even one-half of one + per cent. rise or fall was all that stood between them and ruin. + </p> + <p> + “Very sorry, sir, but you know we told you when you opened the account + that you must keep your margins up,” Breen had said to an old man. The old + man knew; had known it all night as he lay awake, afraid to tell his wife + of the sword hanging above their heads. Knew it, too, when without her + knowledge he had taken the last dollar of the little nest-egg to make good + the deficit owed Breen & Co. over and above his margins, together with + some other things “not negotiable”—not our kind of collateral but + “stuff” that could “lie in the safe until he could make some other + arrangement,” the cashier had said with the firm's consent. + </p> + <p> + Queer safe, that of Breen & Co., and queer things went into it. Most + of them were still there. Jack thought some jeweller had sent part of his + stock down for safe-keeping when he first came across a tiny drawer of + which Breen alone kept the key. Each object could tell a story: a pair of + diamond ear-rings surely could, and so could four pearls on a gold chain, + and perhaps, too, a certain small watch, the case set with jewels. One of + these days they may be redeemed, or they may not, depending upon whether + the owners can scrape money enough together to pay the balances owed in + cash. But the four pearls on the gold chain are likely to remain there—that + poor fellow went overboard one morning off Nantucket Light, and his secret + went with him. + </p> + <p> + During the six months Jack had stood at his desk new faces had filled the + chairs—the talk had varied; though he felt only the weary monotony + of it all. Sometimes there had been hours of tense excitement, when even + his uncle had stood by the ticker, and when every bankable security in the + box had been overhauled and sent post-haste to the bank or trust company. + Jack, followed by the porter with a self-cocking revolver in his outside + pocket, had more than once carried the securities himself, returning to + the office on the run with a small scrap of paper good for half a million + or so tucked away in his inside pocket. Then the old monotony had returned + with its dull routine and so had the chatter and talk. “Buy me a hundred.” + “Yes, let 'em go.” “No, I don't want to risk it.” “What's my balance?” + “Thought you'd get another eighth for that stock.” “Sold at that figure, + anyhow,” etc. + </p> + <p> + Under these conditions life to a boy of Jack's provincial training and + temperament seemed narrowed down to an arm-chair, a black-board, a piece + of chalk and a restless little devil sputtering away in a glass case, + whose fiat meant happiness or misery. Only the tongue of the demon was in + evidence. The brain behind it, with its thousand slender nerves quivering + with the energy of the globe, Jack never saw, nor, for that matter, did + nine-tenths of the occupants of the chairs. To them its spoken word was + the dictum of fate. Success meant debts paid, a balance in the bank, + houses, horses, even yachts and estates—failure meant obscurity and + suffering. The turn of the roulette wheel or the roll of a cube of ivory + they well knew brought the same results, but these turnings they also knew + were attended with a certain loss of prestige. Taking a flier in the + Street was altogether different—great financiers were behind the + fluctuations of values told by the tongue of the ticker, and behind them + was the wealth of the Republic and still in the far distance the power of + the American people. Few of them ever looked below the grease paint, nor + did the most discerning ever detect the laugh on the clown's face. + </p> + <p> + The boy half hidden by the glass screen, through which millions were + passed and repassed every month, caught now and then a glimpse. + </p> + <p> + Once a faded, white-haired old man had handed Jack a check after banking + hours to make good an account—a man whose face had haunted him for + hours. His uncle told him the poor fellow had “run up solid” against a + short interest in a stock that some Croesus was manipulating to get even + with another Croesus who had manipulated HIM, and that the two Croesuses + had “buried the old man alive.” The name of the stock Jack had forgotten, + but the suffering in the victim's face had made an indelible impression. + In reply to Jack's further inquiry, his uncle had spoken as if the poor + fellow had been wandering about on some unknown highway when the accident + happened, failing to add that he himself had led him through the gate and + started him on the road; forgetting, too, to say that he had collected the + toll in margins, a sum which still formed a considerable portion of Breen + & Co.'s bank account. One bit of information which Breen had + vouchsafed, while it did not relieve the gloom of the incident, added a + note of courage to the affair: + </p> + <p> + “He was game, however, all the same, Jack. Had to go down into his wife's + stocking, I hear. Hard hit, but he took it like a man.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. + </h2> + <p> + While all this was going on downtown under the direction of the business + end of the house of Breen, equally interesting events were taking place + uptown under the guidance of its social head. Strict orders had been given + by Mrs. Breen the night before that certain dustings and arrangings of + furniture should take place, the spacious stairs swept, and the hectic + hired palms in their great china pots watered. I say “the night before,” + because especial stress was laid upon the fact that on no account whatever + were either Mrs. Breen or her daughter Corinne to be disturbed until noon—neither + of them having retired until a late hour the night before. + </p> + <p> + So strictly were these orders carried out that all that did reach the + younger woman's ear—and this was not until long after mid-day—was + a scrap of news which crept upstairs from the breakfast table via Parkins + wireless, was caught by Corinne's maid and delivered in manifold with that + young lady's coffee and buttered rolls. This when deciphered meant that + Jack was not to be at the dance that evening—he having determined + instead to spend his time up stairs with a disreputable old fellow whom he + had picked up somewhere at a supper the preceding night. + </p> + <p> + Corinne thought over the announcement for a moment, gazed into the + egg-shell cup that Hortense was filling from the tiny silver coffee-pot, + and a troubled expression crossed her face. “What has come over Jack?” she + asked herself. “I never knew him to do anything like this before. Is he + angry, I wonder, because I danced with Garry the other night? It WAS his + dance, but I didn't think he would care. He has always done everything to + please me—until now.” Perhaps the boy was about to slip the slight + collar he had worn in her service—one buckled on by him willingly + because—though she had not known it—he was a guest in the + house. Heretofore she said to herself Jack had been her willing slave, a + feather in her cap—going everywhere with her; half the girls were + convinced he was in love with her—a theory which she had encouraged. + What would they say now? This prospect so disturbed the young woman that + she again touched the button, and again Hortense glided in. + </p> + <p> + “Hortense, tell Parkins to let me know the moment Mr. John comes in—and + get me my blue tea-gown; I sha'n't go out to-day.” This done she sank back + on her pillows. + </p> + <p> + She was a slight little body, this Corinne—blue-eyed, fair-haired, + with a saucy face and upturned nose. Jack thought when he first saw her + that she looked like a wren with its tiny bill in the air—and Jack + was not far out of the way. And yet she was a very methodical, + level-headed little wren, with several positive convictions which + dominated her life—one of them being that everybody about her ought + to do, not as they, but as she, pleased. She had begun, and with + pronounced success, on her mother as far back as she could remember, and + had then tried her hand on her stepfather until it became evident that as + her mother controlled that gentleman it was a waste of time to experiment + further. All of which was a saving of stones without the loss of any + birds. + </p> + <p> + Where she failed—and she certainly had failed, was with Jack, who + though punctiliously polite was elusive and—never quite subdued. Yet + the discovery made, she neither pouted nor lost her temper, but merely + bided her time. Sooner or later, she knew, of course, this boy, who had + seen nothing of city life and who was evidently dazed with all the + magnificence of the stately home overlooking the Park, would find his + happiest resting-place beneath the soft plumage of her little wing. And if + by any chance he should fall in love with her—and what more natural; + did not everybody fall in love with her?—would it not be wiser to + let him think she returned it, especially if she saw any disposition on + the young man's part to thwart her undisputed sway of the household? + </p> + <p> + For months she had played her little game, yet to her amazement none of + the things she had anticipated had happened. Jack had treated her as he + would any other young woman of his acquaintance—always with courtesy—always + doing everything to oblige her, but never yielding to her sway. He would + laugh sometimes at her pretensions, just as he would have laughed at + similar self-assertiveness on the part of any one else with whom he must + necessarily be thrown, but never by thought, word or deed had he ever + given my Lady Wren the faintest suspicion that he considered her more + beautiful, better dressed, or more entertaining, either in song, chirp, + flight or plumage, than the flock of other birds about her. Indeed, the + Scribe knows it to be a fact that if Jack's innate politeness had not + forbidden, he would many times have told her truths, some of them mighty + unpleasant ones, to which her ears had been strangers since her + school-girl days. + </p> + <p> + This unstudied treatment, strange to say—the result really, of the + boy's indifference—had of late absorbed her. What she could not have + she generally longed for, and there was not the slightest question up to + the present moment that Jack was still afield. + </p> + <p> + Again the girl pressed the button of the cord within reach of her hand, + and for the third time Hortense entered. + </p> + <p> + “Have you told Parkins I want to know the very instant Mr. John comes in?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, miss.” + </p> + <p> + “And, Hortense, did you understand that Mr. John was to go out to meet the + gentleman, or was the gentleman to come to his rooms?” + </p> + <p> + “To his rooms, I think, miss.” + </p> +<p> +She was wearing her blue tea-gown, stretched out on the cushions +of one of the big divans in the silent drawing-room, when she heard +Jack's night-key touch the lock. Springing to her feet she ran toward +him. +</p> + <p> + “Why, Jack, what's this I hear about your not coming to my dance? It isn't + true, is it?” She was close to him now, her little head cocked on one + side, her thin, silken draperies dripping about her slender figure. + </p> + <p> + “Who told you?” + </p> + <p> + “Parkins told Hortense.” + </p> + <p> + “Leaky Parkins?” laughed Jack, tossing his hat on the hall table. + </p> + <p> + “But you are coming, aren't you, Jack? Please do!” + </p> + <p> + “Not to-night; you don't need me, Corinne.” His voice told her at once + that not only was the leash gone but that the collar was off as well. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but I do.” + </p> + <p> + “Then please excuse me, for I have an old gentleman coming to pay me a + visit. The finest old gentleman, by the way, you ever saw! A regular + thoroughbred, Corinne—who looks like a magnificent portrait!” he + added in his effort to interest her. + </p> + <p> + “But let him come some other time,” she coaxed, holding the lapel of his + coat, her eyes searching his. + </p> + <p> + “What, turn to the wall a magnificent old portrait!” This came with a mock + grimace, his body bent forward, his eyes brimming with laughter. + </p> + <p> + “Be serious, Jack, and tell me if you think it very nice in you to stay + upstairs in your den when I am giving a dance? Everybody will know you are + at home, and we haven't enough men as it is. Garry can't come, he writes + me. He has to dine with some men at the club.” + </p> + <p> + “I really AM sorry, Corinne, but I can't this time.” Jack had hold of her + hand now; for a brief moment he was sorry he had not postponed Peter's + visit until the next day; he hated to cause any woman a disappointment. + “If it was anybody else I might send him word to call another night, but + you don't know Mr. Grayson; he isn't the kind of a man you can treat like + that. He does me a great honor to come, anyhow. Just think of his coming + to see a boy like me—and he so—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, bring him downstairs, then.” Her eyes began to flash; she had tried + all the arts she knew—they were not many—but they had won + heretofore. “Mother will take care of him. A good many of the girls' + fathers come for them.” + </p> + <p> + “Bring him downstairs to a dance!” Jack answered with a merry laugh. “He + isn't that kind of an old gentleman, either. Why, Corinne, you ought to + see him! You might as well ask old Bishop Gooley to lead the german.” + </p> + <p> + Jack's foot was now ready to mount the lower step of the stairs. Corinne + bit her lip. + </p> + <p> + “You never do anything to please me!” she snapped back. She knew she was + fibbing, but something must be done to check this new form of independence—and + then, now that Garry couldn't come, she really needed him. “You don't want + to come, that's it—” She facing him now, her little nose high in the + air, her cheeks flaming with anger. + </p> + <p> + “You must not say that, Corinne,” he answered in a slightly indignant + tone. + </p> + <p> + Corinne drew herself up to her full height—toes included; not very + high, but all she could do—and said in a voice pitched to a high + key, her finger within a few inches of his nose: + </p> + <p> + “It's true, and I will say it!” + </p> + <p> + The rustle of silk was heard overhead, and a plump, tightly laced woman in + voluminous furs, her head crowned by a picture hat piled high with plumes, + was making her way down the stairs. Jack looked up and waved his hand to + his aunt, and then stood at mock attention, like a corporal on guard, one + hand raised to salute her as she passed. The boy, with the thought of + Peter coming, was very happy this afternoon. + </p> + <p> + “What are you two quarrelling about?” came the voice. Rather a soft voice + with a thread of laziness running through it. + </p> + <p> + “Jack's too mean for anything, mother. He knows we haven't men enough + without him for a cotillion, now that Garry has dropped out, and he's been + just stupid enough to invite some old man to come and see him this + evening.” + </p> + <p> + The furs and picture hat swept down and on, Jack standing at attention, + hands clasping an imaginary musket his face drawn down to its severest + lines, his cheeks puffed out to make him look the more solemn. When the + wren got “real mad” he would often say she was the funniest thing alive. + </p> + <p> + “I'm a pig, I know, aunty” (here Jack completed his salute with a great + flourish), “but Corinne does not really want me, and she knows it. She + only wants to have her own way. They don't dance cotillions when they come + here—at least they didn't last time, and I don't believe they will + to-night. They sit around with each other in the corners and waltz with + the fellows they've picked out—and it's all arranged between them, + and has been for a week—ever since they heard Corinne was going to + give a dance.” The boy spoke with earnestness and a certain tone of + conviction in his voice, although his face was still radiant. + </p> + <p> + “Well, can't you sit around, too, Jack?” remarked his aunt, pausing in her + onward movement for an instant. “I'm sure there will be some lovely + girls.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but they don't want me. I've tried it too often, aunty—they've + all got their own set.” + </p> + <p> + “It's because you don't want to be polite to any of them,” snapped Corinne + with a twist of her body, so as to face him again. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Corinne, that isn't fair; I am never impolite to anybody in this + house, but I'm tired of—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Garry isn't tired.” This last shot was fired at random. + </p> + <p> + Again the aunt poured oil: “Come, children, come! Don't let's talk any + more about it. If Jack has made an engagement it can't be helped, I + suppose, but don't spoil your party, my dear. Find Parkins, Jack, and send + him to me.... Ah, Parkins—if any one calls say I'll be out until six + o'clock.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my Lady.” Parkins knew on which side his bread was buttered. She had + reproved him at first, but his excuse was that she was so like his former + mistress, Lady Colchester, that he sometimes forgot himself. + </p> + <p> + And again “my Lady” swept on, this time out of the door and into her + waiting carriage. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI + </h2> + <p> + Jack's impatience increased as the hour for Peter's visit approached. + Quarter of nine found him leaning over the banisters outside his small + suite of rooms, peering down between the hand-rails watching the top of + every head that crossed the spacious hall three flights below—he + dare not go down to welcome his guest, fearing some of the girls, many of + whom had already arrived, would know he was in the house. Fifteen minutes + later the flash of a bald head, glistening in the glare of the lower hall + lantern, told him that the finest old gentleman in the world had arrived, + and on the very minute. Parkins's special instructions, repeated for the + third time, were to bring Mr. Peter Grayson—it was wonderful what an + impressive note was in the boy's voice when he rolled out the syllables—up + at once, surtout, straight-brimmed hat, overshoes (if he wore any), + umbrella and all, and the four foot-falls—two cat-like and wabbly, + as befitted the obsequious flunky, and two firm and decided, as befitted a + grenadier crossing a bridge—could now be heard mounting the stairs. + </p> + <p> + “So here you are!” cried Peter, holding out both hands to the overjoyed + boy—“'way up near the sky. One flight less than my own. Let me get + my breath, my boy, before I say another word. No, don't worry, only Anno + Domini—you'll come to it some day. How delightfully you are + settled!” + </p> + <p> + They had entered the cosey sitting-room and Jack was helping with his + coat; Parkins, with his nose in the air (he had heard his master's + criticism), having already placed his hat on a side table and the umbrella + in the corner. + </p> + <p> + “Where will you sit—in the big chair by the fire or in this long + straw one?” cried the boy, Peter's coat still in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Nowhere yet; let me look around a little.” One of Peter's tests of a man + was the things he lived with. “Ah! books?” and he peered at a row on the + mantel. “Macaulay, I see, and here's Poe: Good, very good—why, + certainly it is—Where did you get this Morland?” and again Peter's + glasses went up. “Through that door is your bedroom—yes, and the + bath. Very charming, I must say. You ought to live very happily here; few + young fellows I know have half your comforts.” + </p> + <p> + Jack had interrupted him to say that the Morland print was one that he had + brought from his father's home, and that the books had come from the same + source, but Peter kept on in his tour around the room. Suddenly he stopped + and looked steadily at a portrait over the mantel. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—your father—” + </p> + <p> + “You knew!” cried Jack. + </p> + <p> + “Knew! How could any one make a mistake? Fine head. About fifty I should + say. No question about his firmness or his kindness. Yes—fine head—and + a gentleman, that is best of all. When you come to marry always hunt up + the grandfather—saves such a lot of trouble in after life,” and one + of Peter's infectious laughs filled the room. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think he looks anything like Uncle Arthur? You have seen him, I + think you said.” + </p> + <p> + Peter scanned the portrait. “Not a trace. That may also be a question of + grandfathers—” and another laugh rippled out. “But just be thankful + you bear his name. It isn't always necessary to have a long line of + gentlemen behind you, and if you haven't any, or can't trace them, a man, + if he has pluck and grit, can get along without them; but it's very + comforting to know they once existed. Now let me sit down and listen to + you,” added Peter, whose random talk had been inspired by the look of + boyish embarrassment on Jack's face. He had purposely struck many notes in + order to see which one would echo in the lad's heart, so that his host + might find himself, just as he had done when Jack with generous impulse + had sprang from his chair to carry Minott the ring. + </p> + <p> + The two seated themselves—Peter in the easy chair and Jack opposite. + The boy's eyes roamed from the portrait, with its round, grave face, to + Peter's head resting on the cushioned back, illumined by the light of the + lamp, throwing into relief the clear-cut lips, little gray side-whiskers + and the tightly drawn skin covering his scalp, smooth as polished ivory. + </p> + <p> + “Am I like him?” asked Peter. He had caught the boy's glances and had read + his thoughts. + </p> + <p> + “No—and yes. I can't see it in the portrait, but I do in the way you + move your hands and in the way you bow. I keep thinking of him when I am + with you. It may, as you say, be a good thing to have a gentleman for a + father, sir, but it is a dreadful thing, all the same, to lose him just as + you need him most. I wouldn't hate so many of the things about me if I had + him to go to now and then.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me about him and your early life,” cried Peter, crossing one leg + over the other. He knew the key had been struck; the boy might now play on + as he chose. + </p> + <p> + “There is very little to tell. I lived in the old home with an aunt after + my father's death. And went to school and then to college at Hagerstown—quite + a small college—where uncle looked after me—he paid the + expenses really—and then I was clerk in a law office for a while, + and at my aunt's death about a year ago the old place was sold and I had + no home, and Uncle Arthur sent for me to come here.” + </p> + <p> + “Very decent in him, and you should never forget him for it,” and again + Peter's eyes roamed around the perfectly appointed room. + </p> + <p> + “I know it, sir, and at first the very newness and strangeness of + everything delighted me. Then I began to meet the people. They were so + different from those in my part of the country, especially the young + fellows—Garry is not so bad, because he really loves his work and is + bound to succeed—everybody says he has a genius for architecture—but + the others—and the way they treat the young girls, and what is more + unaccountable to me is the way the young girls put up with it.” + </p> + <p> + Peter had settled himself deeper in his chair, his eyes shaded with one + hand and looked intently at the boy. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Arthur is kind to me, but the life smothers me. I can't breathe + sometimes. Nothing my father taught me is considered worth while here. + People care for other things.” + </p> + <p> + “What, for instance?” Peter's hand never moved, nor did his body. + </p> + <p> + “Why stocks and bonds and money, for instance,” laughed Jack, beginning to + be annoyed at his own tirade—half ashamed of it in fact. “Stocks are + good enough in their way, but you don't want to live with them from ten + o'clock in the morning till four o'clock in the afternoon, and then hear + nothing else talked about until you go to bed. That's why that dinner last + night made such an impression on me. Nobody said money once.” + </p> + <p> + “But every one of those men had his own hobby—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but in my uncle's world they all ride one and the same horse. I + don't want to be a pessimist, Mr. Grayson, and I want you to set me + straight if I am wrong, but Mr. Morris and every one of those men about + him were the first men I've seen in New York who appear to me to be doing + the things that will live after them. What are we doing down-town? + Gambling the most of us.” + </p> + <p> + “But your life here isn't confined to your uncle and his stock-gambling + friends. Surely these lovely young girls—two of them came in with me—” + and Peter smiled, “must make your life delightful.” + </p> + <p> + Jack's eyes sought the floor, then he answered slowly: + </p> + <p> + “I hope you won't think me a cad, but—No, I'm not going to say a + word about them, only I can't get accustomed to them and there's no use of + my saying that I can. I couldn't treat any girl the way they are treated + here. And I tell you another thing—none of the young girls whom I + know at home would treat me as these girls treat the men they know. I'm + queer, I guess, but I might as well make a clean breast of it all. I am an + ingrate, perhaps, but I can't help thinking that the old life at home was + the best. We loved our friends, and they were welcome at our table any + hour, day or night. We had plenty of time for everything; we lived out of + doors or in doors, just as we pleased, and we dressed to suit ourselves, + and nobody criticised. Why, if I drop into the Magnolia on my way up-town + and forget to wear a derby hat with a sack coat, or a black tie with a + dinner-jacket, everybody winks and nudges his neighbor. Did you ever hear + of such nonsense in your life?” + </p> + <p> + The boy paused as if the memory of some incident in which he was ridiculed + was alive in his mind. Peter's eyes were still fixed on his face. + </p> + <p> + “Go on—I'm listening; and what else hurts you? Pour it all out. + That's what I came for. You said last night nobody would listen—I + will.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I hate the sham of it all; the silly social distinctions; the + fits and starts of hospitality; the dinners given for show. Nothing else + going on between times; even the music is hired. I want to hear music that + bubbles out—old Hannah singing in the kitchen, and Tom, my father's + old butler, whistling to himself—and the dogs barking, and the birds + singing outside. I'm ashamed of myself making comparisons, but that was + the kind of life I loved, because there was sincerity in it.” + </p> + <p> + “No work?” There was a note of sly merriment in the inquiry, but Jack + never caught it. + </p> + <p> + “Not much. My father was Judge and spent part of the time holding court, + and his work never lasted but a few hours a day, and when I wanted to go + fishing or shooting, or riding with the girls, Mr. Larkin always let me + off. And I had plenty of time to read—and for that matter I do here, + if I lock myself up in this room. That low library over there is full of + my father's books.” + </p> + <p> + Again Peter's voice had a tinge of merriment in it. + </p> + <p> + “And who supported the family?” he asked in a lower voice. + </p> + <p> + “My father.” + </p> + <p> + “And who supported him?” + </p> + <p> + The question brought Jack to a full stop. He had been running on, pouring + out his heart for the first time since his sojourn in New York, and to a + listener whom he knew he could trust. + </p> + <p> + “Why—his salary, of course,” answered Jack in astonishment, after a + pause. + </p> + <p> + “Anything else?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—the farm.” + </p> + <p> + “And who worked that?” + </p> + <p> + “My father's negroes—some of them his former slaves.” + </p> + <p> + “And have you any money of your own—anything your father left you?” + </p> + <p> + “Only enough to pay taxes on some wild lands up in Cumberland County, and + which I'm going to hold on to for his sake.” + </p> + <p> + Peter dropped his shading fingers, lifted his body from the depths of the + easy chair and leaned forward so that the light fell full on his face. He + had all the information he wanted now. + </p> + <p> + “And now let me tell you my story, my lad. It is a very short one. I had + the same sort of a home, but no father—none that I remember—and + no mother, they both died before my sister Felicia and I were grown up. At + twelve I left school; at fifteen I worked in a country store—up at + daylight and to bed at midnight, often. From twenty to twenty-five I was + entry clerk in a hardware store; then book-keeper; then cashier in a wagon + factory; then clerk in a village bank—then book-keeper again in my + present bank, and there I have been ever since. My only advantages were a + good constitution and the fact that I came of gentle people. Here we are + both alike—you at twenty—how old?—twenty two?... Well, + make it twenty-two.... You at twenty-two and I at twenty-two seem to have + started out in life with the same natural advantages, so far as years and + money go, but with this difference—Shall I tell you what it is?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “That I worked and loved it, and love it still, and that you are lazy and + love your ease. Don't be offended—” Here Peter laid his hand on the + boy's knee. He waited an instant, and not getting any reply, kept on: + “What you want to do is to go to work. It wouldn't have been honorable in + you to let your father support you after you were old enough to earn your + own living, and it isn't honorable in you, with your present opinions, to + live on your uncle's bounty, and to be discontented and rebellious at + that, for that's about what it all amounts to. You certainly couldn't pay + for these comforts outside of this house on what Breen & Co. can + afford to pay you. Half of your mental unrest, my lad, is due to the fact + that you do not know the joy and comfort to be got out of plain, common, + unadulterated work.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll do anything that is not menial.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by 'menial'?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, working like a day-laborer.” + </p> + <p> + “Most men who have succeeded have first worked with their hands.” + </p> + <p> + “Not my uncle.” + </p> + <p> + “No, not your uncle—he's an exception—one among a million, and + then again he isn't through.” + </p> + <p> + “But he's worth two million, they say.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but he never earned it, and he never worked for it, and he doesn't + now. Do you want to follow in his footsteps?” + </p> + <p> + “No—not with all his money.” This came in a decided tone. “But + surely you wouldn't want me to work with my hands, would you?” + </p> + <p> + “I certainly should, if necessary.” + </p> + <p> + Jack looked at him, and a shade of disappointment crossed his face. + </p> + <p> + “But I COULDN'T do anything menial.” + </p> + <p> + “There isn't anything menial in any kind of work from cleaning a stable + up! The menial things are the evasions of work—tricks by which men + are cheated out of their just dues.” + </p> + <p> + “Stock gambling?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—sometimes, when the truth is withheld.” + </p> + <p> + “That's what I think; that's what I meant last night when I told you about + the faro-bank. I laughed over it, and yet I can't see much difference, + although I have never seen one.” + </p> + <p> + “So I understood, but you were wrong about it. Your uncle bears a very + good name in the Street. He is not as much to blame as the system. Perhaps + some day the firm will become real bankers, than which there is no more + honorable calling.” + </p> + <p> + “But is it wrong to want to fish and shoot and have time to read.” + </p> + <p> + “No, it is wrong not to do it when you have the time and the money. I like + that side of your nature. My own theory is that every man should in the + twenty-four hours of the day devote eight to work, eight to sleep and + eight to play. But this can only be done when the money to support the + whole twenty-four hours is in sight, either in wages, or salary, or + invested securities. More money than this—that is the surplusage + that men lock up in their tin boxes, is a curse. But with that you have + nothing to do—not yet, anyhow. Now, if I catch your meaning, your + idea is to go back to your life at home. In other words you want to live + the last end of your life first—and without earning the right to it. + And because you cannot do this you give yourself up to criticising + everything about you. Getting only at the faults and missing all the finer + things in life. If you would permit me to advise you—” he still had + his hand on the lad's knee, searching the soft brown eyes—“I would + give up finding fault and first try to better things, and I would begin + right here where you are. Some of the great banking houses which keep the + pendulum of the world swinging true have grown to importance through just + such young men as yourself, who were honest and had high ideals and who so + impressed their own personalities upon everybody about them—customers + and employers—that the tone of the concern was raised at once and + with it came a world-wide success. I have been thirty years on the Street + and have watched the rise of half the firms about me, and in every single + instance some one of the younger men—boys, many of them—has + pulled the concern up and out of a quagmire and stood it on its feet. And + the reverse is true: half the downfalls have come from those same juniors, + who thought they knew some short road to success, which half the time was + across disreputable back lots. Why not give up complaining and see what + better things you can do? I'm not quite satisfied about your having stayed + upstairs even to receive me. Your aunt loves society and the daughter—what + did you say her name was—Corinne? Yes, Miss Corinne being young, + loves to have a good time. Listen! do you hear?—there goes another + waltz. Now, as long as you do live here, why not join in it too and help + out the best you can?—and if you have anything of your own to offer + in the way of good cheer, or thoughtfulness, or kindness, or whatever you + do have which they lack—or rather what you think they lack—wouldn't + it be wiser—wouldn't it—if you will permit me, my lad—be + a little BETTER BRED to contribute something of your own excellence to the + festivity?” + </p> + <p> + It was now Jack's turn to lean back in his chair and cover his face, but + with two ashamed hands. Not since his father's death had any one talked to + him like this—never with so much tenderness and truth and with every + word meant for his good. All his selfrighteousness, his silly conceit and + vainglory stood out before him. What an ass he had been. What a coxcomb. + What a boor, really. + </p> + <p> + “What would you have me do?” he asked, a tone of complete surrender in his + voice. The portrait and Peter were one and the same! His father had come + to life. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know yet. We'll think about that another time, but we won't do it + now. I ought to be ashamed of myself for having spoiled your evening by + such serious talk (he wasn't ashamed—he had come for that very + purpose). Now show me some of your books and tell me what you read, and + what you love best.” + </p> + <p> + He was out of the chair before he ceased speaking, his heels striking the + floor, bustling about in his prompt, exact manner, examining the few + curios and keepsakes on the mantel and tables, running his eyes over the + rows of bindings lining the small bookcase; his hand on Jack's shoulder + whenever the boy opened some favorite author to hunt for a passage to read + aloud to Peter, listening with delight, whether the quotation was old or + new to him. + </p> + <p> + Jack, suddenly remembering that his guest was standing, tried to lead him + back to his seat by the fire, but Peter would have none of it. + </p> + <p> + “No—too late. Why, bless me, it's after eleven o'clock! Hear the + music—they are still at it. Now I'm going to insist that you go down + and have a turn around the room yourself; there were such a lot of pretty + girls when I came in.” + </p> + <p> + “Too late for that, too,” laughed Jack, merry once more. “Corinne wouldn't + speak to me if I showed my face now, and then there will be plenty more + dances which I can go to, and so make it all up with her. I'm not yet as + sorry as I ought to be about this dance. Your being here has been such a + delight. May I—may—I come and see you some time?” + </p> + <p> + “That's just what you will do, and right away. Just as soon as my dear + sister Felicia comes down, and she'll be here very soon. I'll send for + you, never fear. Yes, the right sleeve first, and now my hat and umbrella. + Ah, here they are. Now, good night, my boy, and thank you for letting me + come.” + </p> + <p> + “You know I dare not go down with you,” explained Jack with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes—I know—I know. Good night—” and the sharp, + quick tread of the old man grew fainter and fainter as he descended the + stairs. + </p> + <p> + Jack waited, craning his head, until he caught a glimpse of the glistening + head as it passed once more under the lantern, then he went into his room + and shut the door. + </p> + <p> + Had he followed behind his guest he would have witnessed a little comedy + which would have gone far in wiping clean all trace of his uncle's + disparaging remarks of the morning. He would have enjoyed, too, Parkins's + amazement. As the Receiving Teller of the Exeter Bank reached the hall + floor the President of the Clearing House—the most distinguished man + in the Street and one to whom Breen kotowed with genuflections equalling + those of Parkins—accompanied by his daughter and followed by the + senior partner of Breen & Co., were making their way to the front + door. The second man in the chocolate livery with the potato-bug waistcoat + had brought the Magnate's coat and hat, and Parkins stood with his hand on + the door-knob. Then, to the consternation of both master and servant, the + great man darted forward and seized Peter's hand. + </p> + <p> + “Why, my dear Mr. Grayson! This is indeed a pleasure. I didn't see you—were + you inside?” + </p> + <p> + “No—I've been upstairs with young Mr. Breen,” replied Peter, with a + comprehensive bow to Host, Magnate and Magnate's daughter. Then, with the + grace and dignity of an ambassador quitting a salon, he passed out into + the night. + </p> + <p> + Breen found his breath first: “And you know him?” + </p> + <p> + “Know him!” cried the Magnate—“of course I know him! One of the most + delightful men in New York; and I'm glad that you do—you're luckier + than I—try as I may I can hardly ever get him inside my house.” + </p> + <p> + I was sitting up for the old fellow when he entered his cosey red room and + dropped into a chair before the fire. I had seen the impression the young + man had made upon him at the dinner and was anxious to learn the result of + his visit. I had studied the boy somewhat myself, noting his bright smile, + clear, open face without a trace of guile, and the enthusiasm that took + possession of him when his friend won the prize. That he was outside the + class of young men about him I could see from a certain timidity of glance + and gesture—as if he wanted to be kept in the background. Would the + old fellow, I wondered, burden his soul with still another charge? + </p> + <p> + Peter was laughing when he entered; he had laughed all the way down-town, + he told me. What particularly delighted him—and here he related the + Portman incident—was the change in Breen's face when old Portman + grasped his hand so cordially. + </p> + <p> + “Made of pinchbeck, my dear Major, both of them, and yet how genuine it + looks on the surface, and what a lot of it is in circulation. Quite as + good as the real thing if you don't know the difference,” and again he + laughed heartily. + </p> + <p> + “And the boy,” I asked, “was he disappointing?” + </p> + <p> + “Young Breen?—not a bit of it. He's like all the young fellows who + come up here from the South—especially the country districts—and + he's from western Maryland, he says. Got queer ideas about work and what a + gentleman should do to earn his living—same old talk. Hot-house + plants most of them—never amount to anything, really, until they are + pruned and set out in the cold.” + </p> + <p> + “Got any sense?” I ventured. + </p> + <p> + “No, not much—not yet—but he's got temperament and refinement + and a ten commandments' code of morals.” + </p> + <p> + “Rather rare, isn't it?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—perhaps so.” + </p> + <p> + “And I suppose you are going to take him up and do for him, like the + others.” + </p> + <p> + Peter picked up the poker and made a jab at the fire; then he answered + slowly: + </p> + <p> + “Well, Major, I can't tell yet—not positively. But he's certainly + worth saving.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII + </h2> + <p> + With the closing of the front door upon the finest Old Gentleman in the + World, a marked change took place in the mental mechanism of several of + our most important characters. The head of the firm of Breen & Co. was + so taken aback that for the moment that shrewdest of financiers was + undecided as to whether he or Parkins should rush out into the night after + the departing visitor and bring him back, and open the best in the cellar. + “Send a man out of my house,” he said to himself, “whom Portman couldn't + get to his table except at rare intervals! Well, that's one on me!” + </p> + <p> + The lid that covered the upper half of Parkins's intelligence also + received a jolt; it was a coal-hole lid that covered emptiness, but now + and then admitted the light. + </p> + <p> + “Might 'ave known from the clothes 'e wore 'e was no common PUR-son,” he + said to himself. “To tell you the truth—” this to the second man in + the potato-bug waistcoat, when they were dividing between them the bottle + of “Extra Dry” three-quarters full, that Parkins had smuggled into the + pantry with the empty bottles (“Dead Men,” Breen called them)—“to + tell you the truth, Frederick, when I took 'is 'at and coat hupstairs 'e + give me a real start 'e looked that respectable” + </p> + <p> + As to Jack, not only his mind but his heart were in a whirl. + </p> + <p> + Half the night he lay awake wondering what he could do to follow Peter's + advice while preserving his own ideals. He had quite forgotten that part + of the older man's counsel which referred to the dignity of work, even of + that work which might be considered as menial. If the truth must be told, + it was his vanity alone which had been touched by the suggestion that in + him might lay the possibility of reforming certain conditions around him. + He was willing, even anxious, to begin on Breen & Co., subjecting his + uncle, if need be, to a vigorous overhauling. Nothing he felt could daunt + him in his present militant state, upheld, as he felt that he was, by the + approval of Peter. Not a very rational state of mind, the Scribe must + confess, and only to be accounted for by the fact that Peter's talk, + instead of clearing Jack's mind of old doubts, had really clouded it the + more—quite as a bottle of mixture when shaken sends its insoluble + particles whirling throughout the whole. + </p> + <p> + It was not until the following morning, indeed, that the sediment began to + settle, and some of the sanity of Peter's wholesome prescription to + produce a clarifying effect. As long as he, Jack, lived upon his uncle's + bounty—and that was really what it amounted it—he must at + least try to contribute his own quota of good cheer and courtesy. This was + what Peter had done him the honor to advise, and he must begin at once if + he wanted to show his appreciation of the courtesy. + </p> + <p> + His uncle opened the way: + </p> + <p> + “Why, I didn't know until I saw him go out that he was a friend of Mr. + Portman's,” he said as he sipped his coffee. + </p> + <p> + “Neither did I. But does it make any difference?” answered Jack, flipping + off the top of his egg. + </p> + <p> + “Well I should think so—about ninety-nine and nine-tenths percent,” + replied the older man emphatically. “Let's invite him to dinner, Jack. + Maybe he'll come to one I'm giving next week and—” + </p> + <p> + “I'll ask him—that is... perhaps, though, you might write him a + note, uncle, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” interrupted Breen, ignoring the suggestion, “when I wanted + you to take him to the club I didn't know who he was.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course you did not,” echoed Jack, suppressing a smile. + </p> + <p> + “The club! No, not by a damned sight!” exclaimed the head of the house of + Breen. As this latter observation was addressed to the circumambient air, + and not immediately to Jack, it elicited no response. Although slightly + profane, Jack was clever enough to read in its tones not only ample + apology for previous criticisms but a sort of prospective reparation, + whereupon our generous young gentleman forgave his uncle at once, and + thought that from this on he might like him the better. + </p> + <p> + Even Parkins came in for a share of Jack's most gracious intentions, and + though he was as silent as an automaton playing a game of chess, a slight + crack was visible in the veneer of his face when Jack thanked him for + having brought Mr. Grayson—same reverential pronunciation—upstairs + himself instead of allowing Frederick or one of the maid-servants to + perform that service. + </p> + <p> + As for his apologies to Corinne and his aunt for having remained in his + room after Mr. Grayson's departure, instead of taking part in the last + hours of the dance—one o'clock was the exact hour—these were + reserved until those ladies should appear at dinner, when they were made + with so penitential a ring in his voice that his aunt at once jumped to + the conclusion that he must have been bored to death by the old fellow, + while Corinne hugged herself in the belief that perhaps after all Jack was + renewing his interest in her; a delusion which took such possession of her + small head that she finally determined to send Garry a note begging him to + come to her at once, on business of the UTMOST IMPORTANCE; two strings + being better than one, especially when they were to be played each against + the other. + </p> + <p> + As to the uplifting of the house of Breen & Co., and the possibility + of so small a tail as himself being able to wag so large a dog as his + uncle and his partners, that seemed now to be so chimerical an undertaking + that he laughed when he thought of it. + </p> + <p> + This urbanity of mood was still with him when some days later he dropped + into the Magnolia Club on his way home, his purpose being to find Garry + and to hear about the supper which his club friends had given him to + celebrate his winning of the Morris ring. + </p> + <p> + Little Biffton was keeping watch when Jack swung in with that free stride + of his that showed more than anything else his muscular body and the way + he had taken care of and improved it. No dumb-bells or clubs for fifteen + minutes in the morning—but astride a horse, his thighs gripping a + bare-back, roaming the hills day after day—the kind of outdoor + experience that hardens a man all over without specializing his biceps or + his running gear. Little Biff never had any swing to his gait—none + that his fellows ever noticed. Biff went in for repose—sometimes + hours at a time. Given a club chair, a package of cigarettes and some one + to talk to him and Biff could be happy a whole afternoon. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Breen, old man! Come to anchor.” Here he moved back a chair an inch + or two with his foot, and pushed his silver cigarette-case toward the + newcomer. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” replied Jack. “I've just dropped in to look for Garry Minott. + Has he been in?” + </p> + <p> + Biff was the bulletin-board of the Magnolia club. As he roomed upstairs, + he could be found here at any hour of the day or night. + </p> + <p> + Biff did not reply at once; there was no use in hurrying—not about + anything. Besides, the connection between Biff's ears and his brain was + never very good. One had to ring him up several times before he answered. + </p> + <p> + Jack waited for an instant, and finding that the message was delayed in + transmission, helped himself to one of Biff's “Specials”—bearing in + gold letters his name “Brent Biffton” in full on the rice paper—dropped + into the proffered chair and repeated the question: + </p> + <p> + “Have you seen Garry?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—upstairs. Got a deck in the little room. Been there all + afternoon. Might go up and butt in. Touch that bell before you go and say + what.” + </p> + <p> + “No—I won't drink anything, if you don't mind. You heard about + Garry's winning the prize?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” Biffton hadn't moved since he had elongated his foot in search of + Jack's chair. + </p> + <p> + “Why Garry got first prize in his office. I went with him to the supper; + he's with Holker Morris, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Rather nice. Yes, I did hear. The fellows blew him off upstairs. + Kept it up till the steward shut 'em out. Awfully clever fellow, Minott. + My Governor wanted me to do something in architecture, but it takes such a + lot of time... Funny how a fellow will dress himself.” Biffton's sleepy + eyes were sweeping the Avenue. “Pendergast just passed wearing white spats—A + month too late for spats—ought to know better. Touch the bell, + Breen, and say what.” + </p> + <p> + Again Jack thanked him, and again Biffton relapsed into silence. Rather a + damper on a man of his calibre, when a fellow wouldn't touch a bell and + say what. + </p> + <p> + Jack having a certain timidity about “butting in”—outsiders didn't + do such things where he came from—settled himself into the depths of + the comfortable leather-covered arm-chair and waited for Garry to finish + his game. From where he sat he could not only overlook the small tables + holding a choice collection of little tear-bottles, bowls of crushed ice + and high-pressure siphons, but his eye also took in the stretch beyond, + the club windows commanding the view up and down and quite across the + Avenue, as well as the vista to the left. + </p> + <p> + This outlook was the most valuable asset the Magnolia possessed. If the + parasol was held flat, with its back to the club-house, and no glimpse of + the pretty face possible, it was, of course, unquestionable evidence to + the member looking over the top of his cocktail that neither the hour or + the place was propitious. If, however, it swayed to the right or left, or + better still, was folded tight, then it was equally conclusive that not + only was the coast clear, but that any number of things might happen, + either at Tiffany's, or the Academy, or wherever else one of those + altogether accidental—“Why-who-would-have-thought-of-seeing-you- + here” kind of meetings take place—meetings so delightful in + themselves because so unexpected. + </p> + <p> + These outlooks, too, were useful in solving many of the social problems + that afflicted the young men about town; the identity, for instance, of + the occupant of the hansom who had just driven past, heavily veiled, + together with her destination and her reason for being out at all; why the + four-in-hand went up empty and came back with a pretty woman beside the + “Tooler,” and then turned up a side street toward the Park, instead of + taking the Avenue into its confidence; what the young wife of the old + doctor meant when she waved her hand to the occupant of a third-story + window, and who lived there, and why—None of their business, of + course—never could be—but each and every escapade, incident + and adventure being so much thrice-blessed manna to souls stranded in the + desert waste of club conversation. + </p> + <p> + None of these things interested our hero, and he soon found himself + listening to the talk at an adjoining table. Topping, a young lawyer, + Whitman Bunce, a man of leisure—unlimited leisure—and one or + two others, were rewarming some of the day's gossip. + </p> + <p> + “Had the gall to tell Bob's man he couldn't sleep in linen sheets; had his + own violet silk ones in his trunk, to match his pajamas. The goat had 'em + out and half on the bed when Bob came in and stopped him. Awful row, I + heard, when Mrs. Bob got on to it. He'll never go there again.” + </p> + <p> + “And I heard,” broke in Bunce, “that she ordered the trap and sent him + back to the station.” + </p> + <p> + Other bits drifted Jack's way: + </p> + <p> + “Why he was waiting at the stage-door and she slipped out somewhere in + front. Billy was with her, so I heard.... When they got to Delmonico's + there came near being a scrap.... No.... Never had a dollar on Daisy + Belle, or any other horse....” + </p> + <p> + Loud laughter was now heard at the end of the hall. A party of young men + had reached the foot of the stairs and were approaching Biffton and Jack. + Garry's merry voice led the others. + </p> + <p> + “Still hard at work, are you, Biffy? Why, hello, Jack!—how long have + you been here? Morlon, you know Mr. Breen, don't you?—Yes, of course + you do—new member—just elected. Get a move on that carcass of + yours, Biffy, and let somebody else get up to that table. Charles, take + the orders.” + </p> + <p> + Jack had shaken everybody's hand by this time, Biffton having moved back a + foot or two, and the circle had widened so that the poker party could + reach their cocktails. Garry extended his arm till his hand rested on + Jack's shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing sets me up like a game of poker, old man. Been on the building + all day. You ought to come up with me some time—I'll show you the + greatest piece of steel construction you ever saw. Mr. Morris was all over + it to-day. Oh, by the way! Did that old chunk of sandstone come up to see + you last night? What did you say his name was?” + </p> + <p> + Jack repeated Peter's cognomen—this time without rolling the + syllables under his tongue—said that Mr. Grayson had kept his + promise; that the evening had been delightful, and immediately changed the + subject. There was no use trying to convert Garry. + </p> + <p> + “And now tell me about the supper,” asked Jack. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that was all right. We whooped it up till they closed the bar and + then went home with the milk. Had an awful head on me next morning; nearly + fell off the scaffold, I was so sleepy. How's Miss Corinne? I'm going to + stop in on my way uptown this afternoon and apologize to her. I have her + note, but I haven't had a minute to let her know why I didn't come. I'll + show her the ring; then she'll know why. Saw it, didn't you?” + </p> + <p> + Jack hadn't seen it. He had been too excited to look. Now he examined it. + With the flash of the gems Biffy sat up straight, and the others craned + their heads. Garry slipped it off his finger for the hundredth time for + similar inspections, and Jack utilized the pause in the conversation to + say that Corinne had received the note and that in reply she had vented + most of her disappointment on himself, a disclosure which sent a cloud + across Garry's face. + </p> + <p> + The cocktail hour had now arrived—one hour before dinner, an hour + which was fixed by that distinguished compounder of herbs and spirits, Mr. + Biffton—and the room began filling up. Most of the members were + young fellows but a few years out of college, men who renewed their + Society and club life within its walls; some were from out of town—students + in the various professions. Here and there was a man of forty—one + even of fifty-five—who preferred the gayer and fresher life of the + younger generation to the more solemn conclaves of the more exclusive + clubs further up and further down town. As is usual in such combinations, + the units forming the whole sought out their own congenial units and were + thereafter amalgamated into groups, a classification to be found in all + clubs the world over. While Biffy and his chums could always be found + together, there were other less-fortunate young fellows, not only without + coupon shears, but sometimes without the means of paying their dues—who + formed a little coterie of their own, and who valued and used the club for + what it brought them, their election carrying with it a certain social + recognition: it also widened one's circle of acquaintances and, perhaps, + of clients. + </p> + <p> + The sound of loud talking now struck upon Jack's ear. Something more + important than the angle of a parasol or the wearing of out-of-date spats + was engrossing the attention of a group of young men who had just entered. + Jack caught such expressions as—“Might as well have picked his + pocket....” “He's flat broke, anyhow....” “Got to sell his house, I + hear....” + </p> + <p> + Then came a voice louder than the others. + </p> + <p> + “There's Breen talking to Minott and Biffy. He's in the Street; he'll + know.... Say, Breen!” + </p> + <p> + Jack rose to his feet and met the speaker half way. + </p> + <p> + “What do you know, Breen, about that scoop in gold stock? Heard anything + about it? Who engineered it? Charley Gilbert's cleaned out, I hear.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know anything,” said Jack. “I left the office at noon and came up + town. Who did you say was cleaned out?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Charley Gilbert. You must know him.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know him. What's happened to him?” + </p> + <p> + “Flat broke—that's what happened to him. Got caught in that gold + swindle. The stock dropped out of sight this afternoon, I hear—went + down forty points.” + </p> + <p> + Garry crowded his way into the group: “Which Mr. Gilbert?—not + Charley M., the—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; Sam's just left him. What did he tell you, Sam?” + </p> + <p> + “Just what you've said—I hear, too, that he has got to stop on his + house out in Jersey. Can't finish it and can't pay for what's been done.” + </p> + <p> + Garry gave a low whistle and looked at Jack. + </p> + <p> + “That's rough. Mr. Morris drew the plan of Gilbert's house himself. I + worked on the details.” + </p> + <p> + “Rough!” burst out the first speaker. “I should say it was—might as + well have burglared his safe. They have been working up this game for + months, so Charley told me. Then they gave out that the lode had petered + out and they threw it overboard and everybody with it. They said they + tried to find Charley to post him, but he was out of town.” + </p> + <p> + “Who tried?” asked Jack, with renewed interest, edging his way close to + the group. It was just as well to know the sheep from the goats, if he was + to spend the remainder of his life in the Street. + </p> + <p> + “That's what we want to know. Thought you might have heard.” + </p> + <p> + Jack shook his head and resumed his seat beside Biffy, who had not moved + or shown the slightest interest in the affair. Nobody could sell Biff any + gold stock—nor any other kind of stock. His came on the first of + every month in a check from the Trust Company. + </p> + <p> + For some moments Jack did not speak. He knew young Gilbert, and he knew + his young and very charming wife. He had once sat next to her at dinner, + when her whole conversation had been about this new home and the keen + interest that Morris, a friend of her father's, had taken in it. “Mr. + Breen, you and Miss Corinne must be among our earliest guests,” she had + said, at which Corinne, who was next to Garry, had ducked her little head + in acceptance. This was the young fellow, then, who had been caught in one + of the eddies whirling over the sunken rocks of the Street. Not very + creditable to his intelligence, perhaps, thought Jack; but, then, again, + who had placed them there, a menace to navigation?—and why? + Certainly Peter could not have known everything that was going on around + him, if he thought the effort of so insignificant an individual as himself + could be of use in clearing out obstructions like these. + </p> + <p> + Garry noticed the thoughtful expression settling over Jack's face, and + mistaking the cause called Charles to take the additional orders. + </p> + <p> + “Cheer up—try a high-ball, Jack. It's none of your funeral. You + didn't scoop Gilbert; we are the worst sufferers. Can't finish his house + now, and Mr. Morris is just wild over the design. It's on a ledge of rock + overlooking the lake, and the whole thing goes together. We've got the + roof on, and from across the lake it looks as if it had grown there. Mr. + Morris repeated the rock forms everywhere. Stunning, I tell you!” + </p> + <p> + Jack didn't want any high-ball, and said so. (Biffy didn't care if he + did.) The boy's mind was still on the scoop, particularly on the way in + which every one of his fellow-members had spoken of the incident. + </p> + <p> + “Horrid business, all of it. Don't you think so, Garry?” Jack said after a + pause. + </p> + <p> + “No, not if you keep your eyes peeled,” answered Garry, emptying his + glass. “Never saw Gilbert but once, and then he looked to me like a softy + from Pillowville. Couldn't fool me, I tell you, on a deal like that. I'd + have had a 'stop order' somewhere. Served Gilbert right; no business to be + monkeying with a buzz-saw unless he knew how to throw off the belt.” + </p> + <p> + Jack straightened his shoulders and his brows knit. The lines of the + portrait were in the lad's face now. + </p> + <p> + “Well, maybe it's all right, Garry. My own opinion is that it's no better + than swindling. Anyway, I'm mighty glad Uncle Arthur isn't mixed up in it. + You heard what Sam and the other fellows thought, didn't you? How would + you like to have that said of you?” + </p> + <p> + Garry tossed back his head and laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Biffy, are you listening to his Reverence, the Bishop of Cumberland? Here + endeth the first lesson.” + </p> + <p> + Biff nodded over his high-ball. He wasn't listening—discussions of + any kind bored him. + </p> + <p> + “But what do you care, Jack, what they say—what anybody says?” + continued Garry. “Keep right on. You are in the Street to make money, + aren't you? Everybody else is there for the same purpose. What goes up + must come down. If you don't want to get your head smashed, stand from + under. The game is to jump in, grab what you can, and jump out, dodging + the bricks as they come. Let's go up-town, old man.” + </p> + <p> + Neither of the young men was expressing his own views. Both were too young + and too inexperienced to have any fixed ideas on so vital a subject. + </p> + <p> + It was the old fellow in the snuff-colored coat, black stock and dog-eared + collar that was behind Jack. If he were alive to-day Jack's view would + have been his view, and that was the reason why it was Jack's view. The + boy could no more explain it than he could prove why his eyes were brown + and his hair a dark chestnut, or why he always walked with his toes very + much turned out, or made gestures with his hands when he talked. Had any + of the jury been alive—and some of them were—or the + prosecuting-attorney, or even any one of the old settlers who attended + court, they could have told in a minute which one of the two young men was + Judge Breen's son. Not that Jack looked like his father. No young man of + twenty-two looks like an old fellow of sixty, but he certainly moved and + talked like him—and had the same way of looking at things. “The + written law may uphold you, sir, and the jury may so consider, but I shall + instruct them to disregard your plea. There is a higher law, sir, than + justice—a law of mercy—That I myself shall exercise.” The old + Judge had sat straight up on his bench when he said it, his face + cast-iron, his eyes burning. The jury brought in an acquittal without + leaving their seats. There was an outbreak, of course, but the man went + free. This young offshoot was from the same old stock, that was all; same + sap in his veins, same twist to his branch; same bud, same blossom and—same + fruit. + </p> + <p> + And Garry! + </p> + <p> + Not many years have elapsed since I watched him running in and out of his + father's spacious drawing-rooms on Fourteenth Street—the court end + of town in those days. In the days, I mean, when his father was Collector + of the Port, and his father's house with its high ceilings, mahogany doors + and wide hall, and the great dining-room overlooking a garden with a + stable in the rear. It had not been many years, I say, since the Hon. + Creighton Minott had thrown wide its doors to whoever came—that is, + whoever came properly accredited. It didn't last long, of course. Politics + changed; the “ins” became the “outs.” And with the change came the + bridging-over period—the kind of cantilever which hope thrusts out + from one side of the bank of the swift-flowing stream of adversity in the + belief that somebody on the other side of the chasm will build the other + half, and the two form a highway leading to a change of scene and renewed + prosperity. + </p> + <p> + The hospitable Collector continued to be hospitable. He had always taken + chances—he would again. The catch-terms of Garry's day, such as + “couldn't fool him,” “keep your eye peeled,” “a buzz-saw,” etc., etc., + were not current in the father's day, but their synonyms were. He knew + what he was about. As soon as a particular member of the Board got back + from the other side the Honorable Collector would have the position of + Treasurer, and then it was only a question of time when he would be + President of the new corporation. I can see now the smile that lighted up + his rather handsome face when he told me. He was “monkeying with a + buzz-saw” all the same if he did but know it, and yet he always professed + to follow the metaphor that he could “throw off the belt” that drove the + pulley at his own good pleasure and so stop the connecting machinery + before the teeth of the whirling blade could reach his fingers. Should it + get beyond his control—of which there was not the remotest + possibility—he would, of course, rent his house, sell his books and + curtail. “In the meantime, my dear fellow, there is some of the old + Madeira left and a game of whist will only help to drive dull care away.” + </p> + <p> + Garry never whimpered when the crash came. The dear mother died—how + patient and uncomplaining she was in all their ups and downs—and + Garry was all that was left. What he had gained since in life he had + worked for; first as office boy, then as draughtsman and then in charge of + special work, earning his Chief's approval, as the Scribe has duly set + forth. He got his inheritance, of course. Don't we all get ours? Sometimes + it skips a generation—some times two—but generally we are + wearing the old gentleman's suit of clothes cut down to fit our small + bodies, making believe all the time that they are our very own, + unconscious of the discerning eyes who recognize their cut and origin. + </p> + <p> + Nothing tangible, it is safe to say, came with Garry's share of the estate—and + he got it all. That is, nothing he could exchange for value received—no + houses or lots, or stocks or bonds. It was the INTANGIBLE that proved his + richest possession, viz.:—a certain buoyancy of spirits; a cheery, + optimistic view of life; a winning personality and the power of both + making and holding friends. With this came another asset—the + willingness to take chances, and still a third—an absolute belief in + his luck. Down at the bottom of the box littered with old papers, unpaid + tax bills and protested notes—all valueless—was a fourth which + his father used to fish out when every other asset failed—a certain + confidence in the turn of a card. + </p> + <p> + But the virtues and the peccadilloes of their ancestors, we may be sure, + were not interesting our two young men as they swung up the Avenue arm in + arm, this particular afternoon, the sidewalks crowded with the fashion of + the day, the roadway blocked with carriages. Nor did any passing objects + occupy their attention. + </p> + <p> + Garry's mind was on Corinne, and what he would tell her, and how she would + look as she listened, the pretty head tucked on one side, her sparkling + eyes drinking in every word of his story, although he knew she wouldn't + believe one-half of it. Elusive and irritating as she sometimes was, there + was really nobody exactly like Miss Corinne. + </p> + <p> + Jack's mind had resumed its normal tone. Garry's merry laugh and + good-natured ridicule had helped, so had the discovery that none of his + friends had had anything to do with Gilbert's fall. After all, he said to + himself, as he strode up the street beside his friend, it was “none of his + funeral,” none of his business, really. Such things went on every day and + in every part of the world. Neither was it his Uncle Arthur's. That was + the most comforting part of all. + </p> + <p> + Corinne's voice calling over the banisters: “Is that you, Jack?” met the + two young men as they handed their hats to the noiseless Frederick. Both + craned their necks and caught sight of the Wren's head framed by the + hand-rail and in silhouette against the oval sky-light in the roof above. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and Garry's here, too. Come down.” + </p> + <p> + The patter of little feet grew louder, then the swish of silken skirts, + and with a spring she was beside them. + </p> + <p> + “No, don't you say a word, Garry. I'm not going to listen and I won't + forgive you no matter what you say.” She had both of his hands now. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but you don't know, Miss Corinne. Has Jack told you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, told me everything; that you had a big supper and everybody stamped + around the room; that Mr. Morris gave you a ring, or something” (Garry + held up his finger, but she wasn't ready to examine it yet), “and that + some of the men wanted to celebrate it, and that you went to the club and + stayed there goodness knows how long—all night, so Mollie Crane told + me. Paul, her brother, was there—and you never thought a word about + your promise to me” (this came with a little pout, her chin uplifted, her + lips quite near his face), “and we didn't have half men enough and our + cotillion was all spoiled. I don't care—we had a lovely time, even + if you two men did behave disgracefully. No—I don't want to listen + to a thing. I didn't come down to see either of you.” (She had watched + them both from her window as they crossed the street.) “What I want to + know, Jack, is, who is Miss Felicia Grayson?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mr. Grayson's sister,” burst out Jack—“the old gentleman who + came to see me.” + </p> + <p> + “That old fellow!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that old fellow—the most charming—” + </p> + <p> + “Not that remnant!” interrupted Garry. + </p> + <p> + “No, Garry—not that kind of a man at all, but a most delightful old + gentleman by the name of Mr. Grayson,” and Jack's eyes flashed. “He told + me his sister was coming to town. What do you know about her, Corinne?” He + was all excitement: Peter was to send for him when his sister arrived. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing—that's why I ask you. I've just got a note from her. She + says she knew mamma when she lived in Washington, and that her brother has + fallen in love with you, and that she won't have another happy moment—or + something like that—if you and I don't come to a tea she is giving + to a Miss Ruth MacFarlane; and that I am to give her love to mamma, and + bring anybody I please with me.” + </p> + <p> + “When?” asked Jack. He could hardly restrain his joy. + </p> + <p> + “I think next Saturday—yes, next Saturday,” consulting the letter in + her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Where? At Mr. Grayson's rooms?” cried Jack. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, at her brother's, she says. Here, Jack—you read it. Some + number in East Fifteenth Street—queer place for people to live, + isn't it, Garry?—people who want anybody to come to their teas. I've + got a dressmaker lives over there somewhere; she's in Fifteenth Street, + anyhow, for I always drive there.” + </p> + <p> + Jack devoured the letter. This was what he had been hoping for. He knew + the old gentleman would keep his word! + </p> + <p> + “Well, of course you'll go, Corinne?” he cried eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I'll do nothing of the kind. I think it's a great piece of + impudence. I've never heard of her. Because you had her brother upstairs, + that's no reason why—But that's just like these people. You give + them an inch and—” + </p> + <p> + Jack's cheeks flushed: “But, Corinne! She's offered you a courtesy—asked + you to her house, and—” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care; I'm not going! Would you, Garry?” + </p> + <p> + The son of the Collector hesitated for a moment. He had his own ideas of + getting on in the world. They were not Jack's—his, he knew, would + never succeed. And they were not exactly Corinne's—she was too + particular. The fence was evidently the best place for him. + </p> + <p> + “Would be rather a bore, wouldn't it?” he replied evasively, with a laugh. + “Lives up under the roof, I guess, wears a dyed wig, got Cousin Mary Ann's + daguerreotype on the mantle, and tells you how Uncle Ephraim—” + </p> + <p> + The door opened and Jack's aunt swept in. She never walked, or ambled, or + stepped jauntily, or firmly, or as if she wanted to get anywhere in + particular; she SWEPT in, her skirts following meekly behind—half a + yard behind, sometimes. + </p> + <p> + Corinne launched the inquiry at her mother, even before she could return + Garry's handshake. “Who's Miss Grayson, mamma?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. Why, my child?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, she says she knows you. Met you in Washington.” + </p> + <p> + “The only Miss Grayson I ever met in Washington, my dear, was an old maid, + the niece of the Secretary of State. She kept house for him after his wife + died. She held herself very high, let me tell you. A very grand lady, + indeed. But she must be an old woman now, if she is still living. What did + you say her first name was?” + </p> + <p> + Corinne took the open letter from Jack's hand. “Felicia... Yes, Felicia.” + </p> + <p> + “And what does she want?—money for some charity?” Almost everybody + she knew, and some she didn't, wanted money for some charity. She was + loosening her cloak as she spoke, Frederick standing by to relieve my lady + of her wraps. + </p> + <p> + “No; she's going to give a tea and wants us all to come. She's the sister + of that old man who came to see Jack the other night, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Going to give a tea!—and the sister of—Well, then, she + certainly isn't the Miss Grayson I know. Don't you answer her, Corinne, + until I find out who she is.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you who she is,” burst out Jack. His face was aflame now. Never + had he listened to such discourtesy. He could hardly believe his ears. + </p> + <p> + “It wouldn't help me in the least, my dear Jack; so don't you begin. I am + the best judge of who shall come to my house. She may be all right, and + she may not, you can never tell in a city like New York, and you can't be + too particular. People really do such curious pushing things now-a-days.” + This to Garry. “Now serve tea, Parkins. Come in all of you.” + </p> + <p> + Jack was on the point of blazing out in indignation over the false + position in which his friend had been placed when Peter's warning voice + rang in his ears. The vulgarity of the whole proceeding appalled him, yet + he kept control of himself. + </p> + <p> + “None for me, please, aunty,” he said quietly. “I will join you later, + Garry,” and he mounted the stairs to his room. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII + </h2> + <p> + Peter was up and dressed when Miss Felicia arrived, despite the early + hour. Indeed that gay cavalier was the first to help the dear lady off + with her travelling cloak and bonnet, Mrs. McGuffey folding her veil, + smoothing out her gloves and laying them all upon the bed in the adjoining + room—the one she kept in prime order for Miss Grayson's use. + </p> + <p> + The old fellow was facing the coffee-urn when he told her Jack's story and + what he himself had said in reply, and how fine the boy was in his + beliefs, and how well-nigh impossible it was for him to help him, + considering his environment. + </p> + <p> + The dear lady had listened with her eyes fixed on Peter. It was but + another of his benevolent finds; it had been the son of an old music + teacher the winter before, and a boy struggling through college last + spring;—always somebody who wanted to get ahead in one direction or + another, no matter how impracticable his ambitions might be. This young + man, however, seemed different; certain remarks had a true ring. Perhaps, + after all, her foolish old brother—foolish when his heart misled him—might + have found somebody at last who would pay for the time he spent upon him. + The name, too, had a familiar sound. She was quite sure the aunt must be + the same rather over-dressed persistent young widow who had flitted in and + out of Washington society the last year of her own stay in the capital. + She had finally married a rich New York man of the same name. So she had + heard. + </p> + <p> + The tea to which Jack and Corinne were invited was the result of this + conversation. Trust Miss Felicia for doing the right thing and in the + right way, whatever her underlying purpose might be; and then again she + must look this new protege over. + </p> + <p> + Peter at once joined in the project. Nothing pleased him so much as a + function of any kind in which his dear sister was the centre of + attraction, and this was always the case. Was not Mrs. McGuffey put to it, + at these same teas, to know what to do with the hats and coats, and the + long and short cloaks and overshoes, and lots of other things beside—umbrellas + and the like—whenever Miss Felicia came to town? And did not the + good woman have many of the cards of the former function hidden in her + bureau drawer to show her curious friends just how grand a lady Miss + Felicia was? General Waterbury, U.S.A., commanding the Department of the + East, with headquarters at Governors Island, was one of them. And so were + Colonel Edgerton, Judge Lambert and Mrs. Lambert; and His Excellency the + French Ambassador, whom she had known as an attache and who was passing + through the city and had been overjoyed to leave a card; as well as Sir + Anthony Broadstairs, who expected to spend a week with her in her quaint + home in Geneseo, but who had made it convenient to pay his respects in + Fifteenth Street instead: to say nothing of the Coleridges, Thomases, + Bordeauxs and Worthingtons, besides any number of people from Washington + Square, with plenty more from Murray Hill and beyond. + </p> + <p> + Peter in his enthusiasm had made a mental picture of a repetition of all + this and had already voiced it in the suggestion of these and various + other prominent names, when Miss Felicia stopped him with: + </p> + <p> + “No, Peter—No. It's not to be a museum of fossils, but a garden full + of rosebuds; nobody with a strand of gray hair will be invited. As for the + lame, the halt and the blind, they can come next week. I've just been + looking you over, Peter; you are getting old and wrinkled and pretty soon + you'll be as cranky as the rest of them, and there will be no living with + you. The Major, who is half your age”—I had come early, as was my + custom, to pay my respects to the dear woman—“is no better. You are + both of you getting into a rut. What you want is some young blood pumped + into your shrivelled veins. I am going to hunt up every girl I know and + all the boys, including that young Breen you are so wild over, and then + I'll send for dear Ruth MacFarlane, who has just come North with her + father to live, and who doesn't know a soul, and nobody over twenty-five + is to be admitted. So if you and the Major want to come to Ruth's tea—Ruth's, + remember; not yours or the Major's, or mine—you will either have to + pass the cake or take the gentlemen's hats. Do you hear?” + </p> + <p> + We heard, and we heard her laugh as she spoke, raising her gold lorgnon to + her eyes and gazing at us with that half-quizzical look which so often + comes over her face. + </p> + <p> + She was older than Peter—must have been: I never knew exactly. It + would not have been wise to ask her, and nobody else knew but Peter, and + he never told. And yet there was no mark of real old age upon her. She and + Peter were alike in this. Her hair, worn Pompadour, was gray—an + honest black-and-white gray; her eyes were bright as needle points; the + skin slightly wrinkled, but fresh and rosy—a spare, straight, + well-groomed old lady of—perhaps sixty—perhaps sixty-five, + depending on her dress, or undress, for her shoulders were still full and + well rounded. “The most beautiful neck and throat, sir, in all Washington + in her day,” old General Waterbury once told me, and the General was an + authority. “You should have seen her in her prime, sir. What the devil the + men were thinking of I don't know, but they let her go back to Geneseo, + and there she has lived ever since. Why, sir, at a ball at the German + Embassy she made such a sensation that—” but then the General always + tells such stories of most of the women he knows. + </p> + <p> + There was but little left of that kind of beauty. She had kept her figure, + it is true—a graceful, easy moving figure, with the waist of a girl; + well-proportioned arms and small, dainty hands. She had kept, too, her + charm of manner and keen sense of humor—she wouldn't have been + Peter's sister otherwise—as well as her interest in her friend's + affairs, especially the love affairs of all the young people about her. + </p> + <p> + Her knowledge of men and women had broadened. She read them more easily + now than when she was a girl—had suffered, perhaps, by trusting them + too much. This had sharpened the tip end of her tongue to so fine a point + that when it became active—and once in a while it did—it could + rip a sham reputation up the back as easily as a keen blade loosens the + seams of a bodice. + </p> + <p> + Peter fell in at once with her plan for a “Rosebud Tea,” in spite of her + raillery and the threatened possibility of our exclusion, promising not + only to assist her with the invitations, but to be more than careful at + the Bank in avoiding serious mistakes in his balances—so as to be on + hand promptly at four. Moreover, if Jack had a sweetheart—and there + was no question of it, or ought not to be—and Corinne had another, + what would be better than bringing them all down together, so that Miss + Felicia could look them over, and Miss Ruth and the Major could get better + acquainted, especially Jack and Miss Felicia; and more especially Jack and + himself. + </p> + <p> + Miss Felicia's proposal having therefore been duly carried out, with a + number of others not thought of when the tea was first discussed—including + some pots of geraniums in the window, red, of course, to match the color + of Peter's room—and the freshening up of certain swiss curtains + which so offended Miss Felicia's ever-watchful eyes that she burst out + with: “It is positively disgraceful, Peter, to see how careless you are + getting—” At which Mrs. McGuffey blushed to the roots of her hair, + and washed them herself that very night before she closed her eyes. The + great day having arrived, I say the tea-table was set with Peter's best, + including “the dearest of silver teapots” that Miss Felicia had given him + for special occasions; the table covered with a damask cloth and all made + ready for the arrival of her guests. This done, the lady returned to her + own room, from which she emerged an hour later in a soft gray silk + relieved by a film of old lace at her throat, blending into the tones of + her gray hair brushed straight up from her forehead and worn high over a + cushion, the whole topped by a tiny jewel which caught the light like a + drop of dew. + </p> + <p> + And a veritable grand dame she looked, and was, as she took her seat and + awaited the arrival of her guests—in bearing, in the way she moved + her head; in the way she opened her fan—in the selection of the fan + itself, for that matter. You felt it in the color and length of her + gloves; the size of her pearl ear rings (not too large, and yet not too + small), in the choice of the few rings that encircled her slender and now + somewhat shrunken fingers (one hoop of gold had a history that the old + French Ambassador could have told if he wanted to, so Peter once hinted to + me)—everything she did in fact betrayed a wide acquaintance with the + great world and its requirements and exactions. + </p> + <p> + Other women of her age might of their choice drop into charities, or cats, + or nephews and nieces, railing against the present and living only in the + past; holding on like grim death to everything that made it respectable, + so that they looked for all the world like so many old daguerreotypes + pulled from the frames. Not so Miss Felicia Grayson of Geneseo, New York. + Her past was a flexible, india-rubber kind of a past that she stretched + out after her. She might still wear her hair as she did when the old + General raved over her, although the frost of many winters had touched it; + but she would never hold on to the sleeves of those days or the skirts or + the mantles: Out or in they must go, be puffed, cut bias, or made plain, + just as the fashion of the day insisted. Oh! a most level-headed, + common-sense, old aristocrat was Dame Felicia! + </p> + <p> + With the arrival of the first carriage old Isaac Cohen moved his seat from + the back to the front of his shop, so he could see everybody who got out + and went in, as well as everybody who walked past and gazed up at the + shabby old house and its shabbier steps and railings. Not that the shabby + surroundings ever made any difference whether the guests were “carriage + company” or not, to quote good Mrs. McGuffey. Peter would not be Peter if + he lived anywhere else, and Miss Felicia wouldn't be half so quaint and + charming if she had received her guests behind a marble or brownstone + front with an awning stretched to the curbstone and a red velvet carpet + laid across the sidewalk, the whole patrolled by a bluecoat and two hired + men. + </p> + <p> + The little tailor had watched many such functions before. So had the + neighbors, who were craning their heads from the windows. They all knew by + the carriages when Miss Felicia came to town and when she left, and by the + same token for that matter. The only difference between this reception and + former receptions, or teas, or whatever the great people upstairs called + them, was in the ages of the guests; not any gray whiskers and white heads + under high silk hats, this time; nor any demure or pompous, or gentle, or, + perhaps, faded old ladies puffing up Peter's stairs—and they did + puff before they reached his door, where they handed their wraps to Mrs. + McGuffey in her brave white cap and braver white apron. Only bright eyes + and rosy faces today framed in tiny bon nets, and well-groomed young + fellows in white scarfs and black coats. + </p> + <p> + But if anybody had thought of the shabby surroundings they forgot all + about it when they mounted the third flight of stairs and looked in the + door. Not only was Peter's bedroom full of outer garments, and Miss + Felicia's, too, for that matter—but the banisters looked like a + clothes-shop undergoing a spring cleaning, so thickly were the coats slung + over its hand rail. So, too, were the hall, and the hall chairs, and the + gas bracket, and even the hooks where Peter hung his clothes to be brushed + in the morning—every conceivable place, in fact, wherever an outer + wrap of any kind could be suspended, poked, or laid flat. That Mrs. + McGuffey was at her wits' end—only a short walk—was evident + from the way she grabbed my hat and coat and disappeared through a door + which led to her own apartments, returning a moment later out of breath + and, I fancied, a little out of temper. + </p> + <p> + And that was nothing to the way in which the owners of all these several + habiliments were wedged inside. First came the dome of Peter's bald head + surmounting his merry face, then the top of Miss Felicia's pompadour, with + its tiny diamond spark bobbing about as she laughed and moved her head in + saluting her guests and then mobs and mobs of young people packed tight, + looking for all the world like a matinee crowd leaving a theatre (that is + when you crane your neck to see over their heads), except that the guests + were without their wraps and were talking sixteen to the dozen, and as + merry as they could be. + </p> + <p> + “They are all here, Major,” Peter cried, dragging me inside. It was + wonderful how young and happy he looked. “Miss Corinne, and that loud + Hullaballoo, Garry Minott, we saw prancing around at the supper—you + remember—Holker gave him the ring.” + </p> + <p> + “And Miss MacFarlane?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Ruth! Turn your head, my boy, and take a look at her. Isn't she a + picture? Did you ever see a prettier girl in all your life, and one more + charmingly dressed? Ruth, this is the Major... nothing else... just the + Major. He is perfectly docile, kind and safe, and—” + </p> + <p> + “—And drives equally well in single or double harness, I suppose,” + laughed the girl, extending her hand and giving me the slightest dip of + her head and bend of her back in recognition, no doubt, of my advancing + years and dignified bearing—in apology, too, perhaps, for her + metaphor. + </p> + <p> + “In SINGLE—not double,” rejoined Peter. “He's the sourest, + crabbedest old bachelor in the world—except myself.” + </p> + <p> + Again her laugh bubbled out—a catching, spontaneous kind of laugh, + as if there were plenty more packed away behind her lips ready to break + loose whenever they found an opening. + </p> + <p> + “Then, Major, you shall have two lumps to sweeten you up,” and down went + the sugar-tongs into the silver bowl. + </p> + <p> + Here young Breen leaned forward and lifted the bowl nearer to her hand, + while I waited for my cup. He had not left her side since Miss Felicia had + presented him, so Peter told me afterward. I had evidently interrupted a + conversation, for his eyes were still fastened upon hers, drinking in her + every word and movement. + </p> + <p> + “And is sugar your cure for disagreeable people, Miss MacFarlane?” I heard + him ask under his breath as I stood sipping my tea. + </p> + <p> + “That depends on how disagreeable they are,” she answered. This came with + a look from beneath her eyelids. + </p> + <p> + “I must be all right, then, for you only gave me one lump—” still + under his breath. + </p> + <p> + “Only one! I made a mistake—” Eyes looking straight into Jack's, + with a merry twinkle gathering around their corners. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I don't need any at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I'm sure you do. Here—hold your cup, sir; I'll fill it full.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I'm going to wait and see what effect one lump has. I'm beginning to + get pleasant already—and I was cross as two sticks when I—” + </p> + <p> + And then she insisted he should have at least three more to make him at + all bearable, and he said there would be no living with him he would be so + charming and agreeable, and so the talk ran on, the battledoor and + shuttlecock kind of talk—the same prattle that we have all listened + to dozens of times, or should have listened to, to have kept our hearts + young. And yet not a talk at all; a play, rather, in which words count for + little and the action is everything: Listening to the toss of a curl or + the lowering of an eyelid; answering with a lift of the hand—such a + strong brown hand, that could pull an oar, perhaps, or help her over + dangerous places! Then her white teeth, and the way the head bent; and + then his ears and how close they lay to his head; and the short, glossy + hair with the faintest bit of a curl in it. And then the sudden awakening: + Oh, yes—it was the sugar Mr. Breen wanted, of course. What was I + thinking of? + </p> + <p> + And so the game went on, neither of them caring where the ball went so + that it could be hit again when it came their way. + </p> + <p> + When it was about to stay its flight I ventured in with the remark that + she must not forget to give my kindest and best to her good father. I + think she had forgotten I was standing so near. + </p> + <p> + “And you know daddy!” she cried—the real girl was shining in her + eyes now—all the coquetry had vanished from her face. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—we worked together on the piers of the big bridge over the + Delaware; oh, long ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Isn't he the very dearest? He promised to come here today, but I know he + won't. Poor daddy, he gets home so tired sometimes. He has just started on + the big tunnel and there is so much to do. I have been helping him with + his papers every night. But when Aunt Felicia's note came—she isn't + my real aunt, you know, but I have called her so ever since I was a little + girl—daddy insisted on my coming, and so I have left him for just a + few days. He will be so glad when I tell him I have met one of his old + friends.” There was no question of her beauty, or poise, or her + naturalness. + </p> + <p> + “Been a lady all her life, my dear Major, and her mother before her,” Miss + Felicia said when I joined her afterward, and Miss Felicia knew. “She is + not like any of the young girls about, as you can see for yourself. Look + at her now,” she whispered, with an approving nod of her head. + </p> + <p> + Again my eyes sought the girl. The figure was willowy and graceful; the + shoulders sloping, the arms tapering to the wrists. The hair was jet black—“Some + Spanish blood somewhere,” I suggested, but the dear lady answered sharply, + “Not a drop; French Huguenot, my dear Major, and I am surprised you should + have made such a mistake.” This black hair parted in the middle, lay close + to her head—such a wealth and torrent of it; even with tucking it + behind her ears and gathering it in a coil in her neck it seemed just + ready to fall. The face was oval, the nose perfect, the mouth never still + for an instant, so full was it of curves and twinkles and little quivers; + the eyes big, absorbing, restful, with lazy lids that lifted slowly and + lay motionless as the wings of a resting butterfly, the eyebrows full and + exquisitely arched. Had you met her in mantilla and high-heeled shoes, her + fan half shading her face, you would have declared, despite Miss Felicia's + protest, that only the click of the castanets was needed to send her + whirling to their rhythm. Had she tied that same mantilla close under her + lovely chin, and passed you with upturned eyes and trembling lips, you + would have sworn that the Madonna from the neighboring church had strayed + from its frame in search of the helpless and the unhappy; and had none of + these disguises been hers, and she had flashed by you in the open some + bright morning mounted on her own black mare, face aglow, eyes like stars, + her wonderful hair waving in the wind, you would have stood stock-still in + admiration, fear gripping your throat, a prayer in your heart for the safe + home-coming of one so fearless and so beautiful. + </p> + <p> + There was, too, about her a certain gentleness, a certain disposition to + be kind, even when her inherent coquetry—natural in the Southern + girl—led her into deep waters; a certain tenderness that made + friends of even unhappy suitors (and I heard that she could not count them + on her fingers) who had asked for more than she could give—a + tenderness which healed the wound and made lovers of them all for life. + </p> + <p> + And then her Southern speech, indescribable and impossible in cold type. + The softening of the consonants, the slipping away of the terminals, the + slurring of vowels, and all in that low, musical voice born out side of + the roar and crash of city streets and crowded drawing-rooms with each + tongue fighting for mastery. + </p> + <p> + All this Jack had taken in, besides a thousand other charms visible only + to the young enthusiast, before he had been two minutes in her presence. + As to her voice, he knew she was one of his own people when she had + finished pronouncing his name. Somebody worthwhile had crossed his path at + last! + </p> + <p> + And with this there had followed, even as he talked to her, the usual + comparisons made by all young fellows when the girl they don't like is + placed side by side with the girl they do. Miss MacFarlane was tall and + Corinne was short; Miss MacFarlane was dark, and he adored dark, handsome + people—and Corinne was light; Miss MacFarlane's voice was low and + soft, her movements slow and graceful, her speech gentle—as if she + were afraid she might hurt someone inadvertently; her hair and dress were + simple to severity. While Corinne—well, in every one of these + details Corinne represented the exact opposite. It was the blood! Yes, + that was it—it was her blood! Who was she, and where did she come + from? Would Corinne like her? What impression would this high bred + Southern beauty make upon the pert Miss Wren, whose little nose had gone + down a point or two when her mother had discovered, much to her joy, the + week before, that it was the REAL Miss Grayson and not an imitation Miss + Grayson who had been good enough to invite her daughter and any of her + daughter's friends to tea; and it had fallen another point when she + learned that Miss Felicia had left her card the next day, expressing to + the potato-bug how sorry she was to hear that the ladies were out, but + that she hoped it would only be a matter of a few days before “she would + welcome them” to her own apartments, or words to that effect, Frederick's + memory being slightly defective. + </p> + <p> + It was in answer to this request that Mrs. Breen, after consulting her + husband, had written three acceptances before she was willing that + Frederick should leave it with his own hands in Fifteenth Street—one + beginning, “It certainly is a pleasure after all these years”—which + was discarded as being too familiar; another, “So good of you, dear Miss + Grayson,” which had a similar fate; and the third, which ran, “My daughter + will be most happy, dear Miss Grayson, to be with you,” etc., which was + finally sealed with the Breen crest—a four-legged beastie of some + kind on its hind legs, with a motto explanatory of the promptness of his + ancestors in times of danger. Even then Corinne had hesitated about + accepting until Garry said: “Well, let's take it in, anyhow—we can + skip out if they bore us stiff.” + </p> + <p> + Knowing these things, therefore, and fearing that after all something + would happen to mar the pleasant relations he had established with Peter, + and with the honor of his uncle's family in his keeping, so to speak, Jack + had awaited the arrival of Corinne and Garry with considerable + trepidation. What if, after all, they should stay away, ignoring the great + courtesy which this most charming of old ladies—never had he seen + one so lovable or distinguished—had extended to them; and she a + stranger, too, and all because her brother Peter had asked her to be kind + to a boy like himself. + </p> + <p> + The entrance of Corinne and Garry, therefore, into the crowded room half + an hour after his own had brought a relief to Jack's mind (he had been + watching the door, so as to be ready to present them), which Miss + Felicia's gracious salutation only intensified. + </p> + <p> + “I remember your dear mother perfectly,” he heard the old lady say as she + advanced to Corinne and took both her hands. “And she was quite lovely. + And this I am very sure is Mr. Breen's friend, Mr. Minott, who has carried + off all the honors. I am delighted to see you both. Peter, do you take + these dear young people and present them to Ruth.” + </p> + <p> + The two had thereupon squeezed through to Ruth's side; Peter in his formal + introduction awarding to Garry all the honors to which he was entitled, + and then Ruth, remembering her duties, said how glad she was to know them; + and would they have lemon or sugar?—and Corinne, with a + comprehensive glance of her rival, declined both, her excuse being that + she was nearly dead now with the heat and that a cup of tea would finish + her. Jack had winced when his ears caught the flippant answer, but it was + nothing to the way in which he shrivelled up when Garry, after shaking + Miss MacFarlane's hand as if it had been a pump-handle instead of a thing + so dainty that no boy had a right to touch it except with reverence in his + heart, had burst out with: “Glad to see you. From the South, I hear—” + as if she was a kangaroo or a Fiji Islander. He had seen Miss MacFarlane + give a little start at Garry's familiar way of speaking, and had noticed + how Ruth shrank behind the urn as if she were afraid he would touch her + again, although she had laughed quite good-naturedly as she answered: + </p> + <p> + “Not very far South; only from Maryland,” and had then turned to Jack and + continued her talk with the air of one not wishing to be further + interrupted. + </p> + <p> + The Scribe does not dare to relate what would have become of one so + sensitive as our hero could he have heard the discussion going on later + between the two young people when they were backed into one of Peter's + bookcases and stood surveying the room. “Miss MacFarlane isn't at all my + kind of a girl,” Corinne had declared to Garry. “Really, I can't see why + the men rave over her. Pretty?—yes, sort of so-so; but no style, and + SUCH clothes! Fancy wearing a pink lawn and a sash tied around her waist + like a girl at a college commencement—and as to her hair—why + no one has ever THOUGHT of dressing her hair that way for AGES and AGES.” + </p> + <p> + Her mind thus relieved, my Lady Wren had made a survey of the rooms, + wondering what they wanted with so many funny old portraits, and whether + the old gentleman or his sister read the dusty books, Garry remarking that + there were a lot of “swells” among the young fellows, many of whom he had + heard of but had never met before. This done, the two wedged their way + out, without ever troubling Peter or Miss Felicia with their good-bys, + Garry telling Corinne that the old lady wouldn't know they were gone, and + Corinne adding under her breath that it didn't make any difference to her + if she did. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX + </h2> + <p> + But Jack stayed on. + </p> + <p> + This was the atmosphere he had longed for. This, too, was where Peter + lived. Here were the chairs he sat in, the books he read, the pictures he + enjoyed. And the well-dressed, well-bred people, the hum of low voices, + the clusters of roses, the shaded candles, their soft rosy light falling + on the egg-shell cups and saucers and silver service, and the lovely girl + dispensing all this hospitality and cheer! Yes, here he could live, + breathe, enjoy life. Everything was worth while and just as he had + expected to find it. + </p> + <p> + When the throng grew thick about her table he left Ruth's side, taking the + opportunity to speak to Peter or Miss Felicia (he knew few others), but he + was back again whenever the chance offered. + </p> + <p> + “Don't send me away again,” he pleaded when he came back for the twentieth + time, and with so much meaning in his voice that she looked at him with + wide-open eyes. It was not what he said—she had been brought up on + that kind of talk—it was the way he said it, and the inflection in + his voice. + </p> + <p> + “I have been literally starving for somebody like you to talk to,” he + continued, drawing up a stool and settling himself determinedly beside + her. + </p> + <p> + “For me! Why, Mr. Breen, I'm not a piece of bread—” she laughed. + “I'm just girl.” He had begun to interest her—this brown-eyed young + fellow who wore his heart on his sleeve, spoke her dialect and treated her + as if she were a duchess. + </p> + <p> + “You are life-giving bread to me, Miss MacFarlane,” answered Jack with a + smile. “I have only been here six months; I am from the South, too.” And + then the boy poured out his heart, telling her, as he had told Peter, how + lonely he got sometimes for some of his own kind; and how the young girl + in the lace hat and feathers, who had come in with Garry, was his aunt's + daughter; and how he himself was in the Street, signing checks all day—at + which she laughed, saying in reply that nothing would give her greater + pleasure than a big book with plenty of blank checks—she had never + had enough, and her dear father had never had enough, either. But he + omitted all mention of the faro bank and of the gamblers—such things + not being proper for her ears, especially such little pink shells of ears, + nestling and half hidden in her beautiful hair. + </p> + <p> + There was no knowing how long this absorbing conversation might have + continued (it had already attracted the attention of Miss Felicia) had not + a great stir taken place at the door of the outside hall. Somebody was + coming upstairs; or had come upstairs; somebody that Peter was laughing + with—great, hearty laughs, which showed his delight; somebody that + made Miss Felicia raise her head and listen, a light breaking over her + face. Then Peter's head was thrust in the door: + </p> + <p> + “Here he is, Felicia. Come along, Holker—I have been wondering—” + </p> + <p> + “Been wondering what, Peter? That I'd stay away a minute longer than I + could help after this dear lady had arrived?... Ah, Miss Felicia! Just as + magnificent and as young as ever. Still got that Marie Antoinette look + about you—you ought really—” + </p> + <p> + “Stop that nonsense, Holker, right away,” she cried, advancing a step to + greet him. + </p> + <p> + “But it's all true, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Stop, I tell you; none of your sugar-coated lies. I am seventy if I am a + day, and look it, and if it were not for these furbelows I would look + eighty. Now tell me about yourself and Kitty and the boys, and whether the + Queen has sent you the Gold Medal yet, and if the big Library is finished + and—” + </p> + <p> + “Whew! what a cross examination. Wait—I'll draw up a set of + specifications and hand them in with a new plan of my life.” + </p> + <p> + “You will do nothing of the kind! You will draw up a chair—here, + right alongside of me, and tell me about Kitty and—No, Peter, he is + not going to be taken over and introduced to Ruth for at least five + minutes. Peter has fallen in love with her, Holker, and I do not blame + him. One of these young fellows—there he is still talking to her—hasn't + left her side since he put his eyes on her. Now begin—The Medal?— + </p> + <p> + “Expected by next steamer.” + </p> + <p> + “The Corn Exchange?” + </p> + <p> + “All finished but the inside work.” + </p> + <p> + “Kitty?” + </p> + <p> + “All finished but the outside work.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Felicia looked up. “Your wife, I mean, you stupid fellow.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know. She would have come with me but her dress didn't arrive in + time.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Felicia laughed: “And the boys?” + </p> + <p> + “Still in Paris—buying bric-a-brac and making believe they're + studying architecture and—But I'm not going to answer another + question. Attention! Miss Felicia Grayson at the bar!” + </p> + <p> + The dear lady straightened her back, her face crinkling with merriment. + </p> + <p> + “Present!” she replied, drawing down the corners of her mouth. + </p> + <p> + “When did you leave home? How long will you stay? Can you come to dinner—you + and Methusaleh—on Wednesday night?” + </p> + <p> + “I refuse to answer by advice of counsel. As to coming to dinner, I am not + going anywhere for a week—then I am coming to you and Kitty, whether + it is Wednesday or any other night. Now, Peter, take him away. He's so + puffed up with his Gold Medal he's positively unbearable.” + </p> + <p> + All this time Jack had been standing beside Ruth. He had heard the stir at + the door and had seen Holker join Miss Felicia, and while the talk between + the two lasted he had interspersed his talk to Ruth with accounts of the + supper, and Garry's getting the ring, to which was added the boy's + enthusiastic tribute to the architect himself. “The greatest man I have + met yet,” he said in his quick, impulsive way. “We don't have any of them + down our way. I never saw one—nobody ever did. Here he comes with + Mr. Grayson. I hope you will like him.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth made a movement as if to start to her feet. To sit still and look her + best and attend to her cups and hot water and tiny wafers was all right + for men like Jack, but not with distinguished men like Mr. Morris. + </p> + <p> + Morris had his hand on her chair before she could move it back. + </p> + <p> + “No, my dear young lady—you'll please keep your seat. I've been + watching you from across the room and you make too pretty a picture as + you are. Tea?—Not a drop.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but it is so delicious—and I will give you the very biggest + piece of lemon that is left.” + </p> + <p> + “No—not a drop; and as to lemon—that's rank poison to me. You + should have seen me hobbling around with gout only last week, and all + because somebody at a reception, or tea, or some such plaguey affair, made + me drink a glass of lemonade. Give it to this aged old gentleman—it + will keep him awake. Here, Peter!” + </p> + <p> + Up to this moment no word had been addressed to Jack, who stood outside + the half circle waiting for some sign of recognition from the great man; + and a little disappointed when none came. He did not know that one of the + great man's failings was his forgetting the names even of those of his + intimate friends—such breaks as “Glad to see you—I remember + you very well, and very pleasantly, and now please tell me your name,” + being a common occurrence with the great architect—a failing that + everybody pardoned. + </p> + <p> + Peter noticed the boy's embarrassment and touched Morris' arm. + </p> + <p> + “You remember Mr. Breen, don't you, Holker? He was at your supper that + night—and sat next to me.” + </p> + <p> + Morris whirled quickly and held out his hand, all his graciousness in his + manner. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, certainly. You took the ring to Minott, of course. Very glad to meet + you again—and what did you say his name was, Peter?” This in the + same tone of voice—quite as if Jack were miles away. + </p> + <p> + “Breen—John Breen,” answered Peter, putting his arm on Jack's + shoulder, to accentuate more clearly his friendship for the boy. + </p> + <p> + “All the better, Mr. John Breen—doubly glad to see you, now that I + know your name. I'll try not to forget it next time. Breen! Breen! Peter, + where have I heard that name before? Breen—where the devil have I—Oh, + yes—I've got it now. Quite a common name, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + Jack assured him with a laugh that it was; there were more than a hundred + in the city directory. He wasn't offended at Morris forgetting his name, + and wanted him to see it. + </p> + <p> + “Glad to know it; wouldn't like to think you were mixed up in the swindle. + You ought to thank your stars, my dear fellow, that you got into + architecture instead of into Wall—” + </p> + <p> + “But I am in—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know—you're with Hunt—” (another instance of a + defective memory) “and you couldn't be with a better man—the best in + the profession, really. I'm talking of some scoundrels of your name—Breen + & Co., the firm is—who, I hear, have cheated one of my clients—young + Gilbert—fine fellow—just married—persuaded him to buy + some gold stock—Mukton Lode, I think they called it—and robbed + him of all he has. He must stop on his house I hear. And now, my dear Miss—” + here he turned to the young girl—“I really forget—” + </p> + <p> + “Ruth,” she answered with a smile. She had taken Morris's measure and had + already begun to like him as much as Jack did. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—Miss Ruth—Now, please, my dear girl, keep on being young + and very beautiful and very wholesome, for you are every one of these + things, and I know you'll forgive me for saying so when I tell you that I + have two strapping young fellows for sons who are almost old enough to + make love to you. Come, Peter, show me that copy of Tacitus you wrote me + about. Is it in good condition?” They were out of Jack's hearing now, + Morris adding, “Fine type of Southern beauty, Peter. Big design, with + broad lines everywhere. Good, too—good as gold. Something about her + forehead that reminds me of the Italian school. Looks as if Bellini might + have loved her. Hello, Major! What are you doing here all by yourself?” + </p> + <p> + Jack stood transfixed! + </p> + <p> + Horror, anger, humiliation over the exposure (it was unheard, if he had + but known it, by anyone in the room except Peter and himself) rushed over + him in hot concurrent waves. It was his uncle, then, who had robbed young + Gilbert! The Mukton Lode! He had handled dozens of the certificates, just + as he had handled dozens of others, hardly glancing at the names. He + remembered overhearing some talk one day in which his uncle had taken + part. Only a few days before he had sent a bundle of Mukton certificates + to the transfer office of the company. + </p> + <p> + Then a chill struck him full in the chest and he shivered to his + finger-tips. Had Ruth heard?—and if she had heard, would she + understand? In his talk he had given her his true self—his standards + of honor—his beliefs in what was true and worth having. When she + knew all—and she must know—would she look upon him as a fraud? + That his uncle had been accused of a shrewd scoop in the Street did not + make his clerk a thief, but would she see the difference? + </p> + <p> + All these thoughts surged through his mind as he stood looking into her + eyes, her hand in his while he made his adieux. He had determined, before + Morris fired the bomb which shattered his hopes, to ask if he might see + her again, and where, and if there could be found no place fitting and + proper, she being motherless and Miss Felicia but a chaperon, to write her + a note inviting her to walk up through the Park with him, and so on into + the open where she really belonged. All this was given up now. The best + thing for him was to take his leave as quietly as possible, without + committing her to anything—anything which he felt sure she would + repudiate as soon as she learned—if she did not know already—how + undesirable an acquaintance John Breen, of Breen & Co., was, etc. + </p> + <p> + As to his uncle's share in the miserable transaction, there was but one + thing to do—to find out, and from his own lips, if possible, if the + story were true, and if so to tell him exactly what he thought of Breen + & Co. and the business in which they were engaged. Peter's advice was + good, and he wished he could follow it, but here was a matter in which his + honor was concerned. When this side of the matter was presented to Mr. + Grayson he would commend him for his course of action. To think that his + own uncle should be accused of a transaction of this kind—his own + uncle and a Breen! Could anything be more horrible! + </p> + <p> + So sudden was his departure from the room—just “I must go now; I'm + so grateful to you all for asking me, and I've had such a good—Good-by—” + that Miss Felicia looked after him in astonishment, turning to Peter with: + </p> + <p> + “Why, what's the matter with the boy? I wanted him to dine with us. Did + you say anything to him, Peter, to hurt his feelings?” + </p> + <p> + Peter shook his head. Morris, he knew, was the unconscious culprit, but + this was not for his sister's or Ruth's ears—not, at least, until he + could get at the exact facts for himself. + </p> + <p> + “He is as sensitive as a plant,” continued Peter; “he closes all up at + times. But he is genuine, and he is sincere—that's better than + poise, sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, maybe Ruth has offended him,” suggested Miss Felicia. “No—she + couldn't. Ruth, what have you done to young Mr. Breen?” + </p> + <p> + The girl threw back her head and laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he went off as if he had been shot from a gun. That is not like him + at all, I should say, from what I have seen of him. Perhaps I should have + looked after him a little more. I tried once, but I could not get him away + from you. His manner is really charming when he talks, and he is so + natural and so well bred; not at all like his friend, of whom he seems to + think so much. How did you like him, dear Ruth?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't know.” She knew, but she didn't intend to tell anybody. “He's + very shy and—” + </p> + <p> + “—And very young.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + “And very much of a gentleman,” broke in Peter in a decided tone. None + should misunderstand the boy if he could help it. + </p> + <p> + Again Ruth laughed. Neither of them had touched the button which had rung + up her sympathy and admiration. + </p> + <p> + “Of course he is a gentleman. He couldn't be anything else. He is from + Maryland, you know.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X + </h2> + <p> + Reference has been made in these pages to a dinner to be given in the + house of Breen to various important people, and to which Mr. Peter + Grayson, the honored friend of the distinguished President of the Clearing + House, was to be invited. The Scribe is unable to say whether the + distinguished Mr. Grayson received an invitation or not. Breen may have + thought better of it, or Jack may have discouraged it after closer + acquaintance with the man who had delighted his soul as no other man + except his father had ever done—but certain it is that he was not + present, and equally certain is it that the distinguished Mr. Portman was, + and so were many of the directors of the Mukton Lode, not to mention + various others—capitalists whose presence would lend dignity to the + occasion and whose names and influence would be of inestimable value to + the future of the corporation. + </p> + <p> + As fate would have it the day for assuaging the appetites of these + financial magnates was the same that Miss Felicia had selected for her tea + to Ruth, and the time at which they were to draw up their chairs but two + hours subsequent to that in which Jack, crushed and humiliated by his + uncle's knavery, had crept downstairs and into the street. + </p> + <p> + In this frame of mind the poor boy had stopped at the Magnolia in the hope + of finding Garry, who must, he thought, have left Corinne at home, and + then retraced his steps to the club. He must explode somewhere and with + someone, and the young architect was the very man he wanted. Garry had + ridiculed his old-fashioned ideas and had advised him to let himself go. + Was the wiping out of Gilbert's fortune part of the System? he asked + himself. + </p> + <p> + As he hunted through the rooms, almost deserted at this hour, his eyes + searching for his friend, a new thought popped into his head, and with + such force that it bowled him over into a chair, where he sat staring + straight in front of him. Tonight, he suddenly remembered, was the night + of the dinner his uncle was to give to some business friends—“A + Gold-Mine Dinner,” his aunt had called it. His cheeks flamed again when he + thought that these very men had helped in the Mukton swindle. To interrupt + them, though, at their feast—or even to mention the subject to his + uncle while the dinner was in progress—was, of course, out of the + question. He would stay where he was; dine alone, unless Garry came in, + and then when the last man had left his uncle's house he would have it out + with him. + </p> + <p> + Biffton was the only man who disturbed his solitude. Biffy was in full + evening dress—an enormous white carnation in his button-hole and a + crush hat under his arm. He was booked for a “Stag,” he said with a yawn, + or he would stay and keep him company. Jack didn't want any company—certainly + not Biffy—most assuredly not any of the young fellows who had asked + him about Gilbert's failure. What he wanted was to be left alone until + eleven o'clock, during which time he would get something to eat. + </p> + <p> + Dinner over, he buried himself in a chair in the library and let his mind + roam. Angry as he was, Ruth's image still haunted him. How pretty she was—how + gracefully she moved her arm as she lifted the cups; and the way the hair + waved about her temples; and the tones of her voice—and dear Peter, + so kind and thoughtful of him, so careful that he should be introduced to + this and that person; and Miss Felicia! What a great lady she was; and yet + he was not a bit afraid of her. What would they all think of him when the + facts of his uncle's crime came to their ears, and they MUST come sooner + or later. What, too, would Peter think of him for breaking out on his + uncle, which he firmly intended to do as soon as the hour hand reached + eleven? Nor would he mince his words. That an outrage of this kind could + be committed on an unsuspecting man was bad enough, but that it should + have taken place in his own uncle's office, bringing into disrepute his + father's and his own good name, was something he could not tolerate for a + moment. This he intended saying to his uncle in so many plain words; and + so leaving our hero with his soul on fire, his mind bent on inflammables, + explosives, high-pressures—anything in fact that once inserted under + the solid body of the senior Breen would blow that gentleman into space—we + will betake ourselves to his palatial home. The dinner being an important + one, no expense had been spared. + </p> + <p> + All day long boys in white aprons had sprung from canvas-covered wagons, + dived in Arthur Breen's kitchen and dived out again after depositing + various eatables, drinkables and cookables—among them six pair of + redheads, two saddles of mutton, besides such uncanny things as mushrooms, + truffles and the like, all of which had been turned over to the chef, who + was expressly engaged for the occasion, and whose white cap—to quote + Parkins—“Gives a hair to the scullery which reminded him more of + 'ome than anything 'e 'ad seen since 'e left 'is lordship's service.” + </p> + <p> + Upstairs more wonderful things had been done. The table of the sepulchral + dining-room was transformed into a bed of tulips, the mantel a parterre + of flowers, while the sideboard, its rear packed with the family silver, + was guarded by a row of bottles of various sizes, shapes and colors; + various degrees of cob webbed shabbiness, too—containing the + priceless vintages which the senior member of the firm of Breen & Co. + intended to set before his friends. + </p> + <p> + Finally, as the dinner hour approached, all the gas jets were ablaze; not + only the side lights in the main hall, and the overhead lantern which had + shed its rays on Peter's bald head, but the huge glass chandelier hung in + the middle of the satin-upholstered drawing room, as well as the + candelabra on the mantel with their imitation wax candles and brass wicks—everything, in fact, that could add to the brilliancy of the occasion. + </p> + <p> + All this, despite the orderly way in which the millionaire's house was + run, had developed a certain nervous anxiety in the host himself, the + effect of which had not yet worn off, although but a few minutes would + elapse before the arrival of the guests. This was apparent in the rise and + fall of Breen's heels, as he seesawed back and forth on the hearth-rug in + the satin-lined drawing-room, with his coattails spread to the lifeless + grate, and from the way he glanced nervously at the mirror to see that his + cravat was properly tied and that his collar did not ride up in the back. + </p> + <p> + The only calm person in the house was the ex-widow. With the eyes of a + major-general sweeping the field on the eve of an important battle, she + had taken in the disposition of the furniture, the hang of the curtains + and the placing of the cushions and lesser comforts. She had also arranged + with her own hands the masses of narcissus and jonquils on the mantels, + and had selected the exact shade of yellow tulips which centred the + dining-room table. It was to be a “Gold-Mine Dinner,” so Arthur had told + her, “and everything must be in harmony.” + </p> + <p> + Then seeing Parkins, who had entered unexpectedly and caught her in the + act (it is bad form for a hostess to arrange flowers in some houses—the + butler does that), she asked in an indifferent tone: “And how many are we + to have for dinner, Parkins?” She knew, of course, having spent an hour + over a diagram placing the guests. + </p> + <p> + “Fourteen, my lady.” + </p> + <p> + “Fourteen!—really, quite a small affair.” And with the air of one + accustomed all her life to banquets in palaces of state, she swept out of + the room. + </p> + <p> + The only time she betrayed herself was just before the arrival of the + guests, when her mind reverted to her daughter. + </p> + <p> + “The Portmans are giving a ball next week, Arthur, and I want Corinne to + go. Are you sure he is coming?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't worry, Kitty, Portman's coming; and so are the Colonel, and + Crossbin, and Hodges, and the two Chicago directors, and Mason, and a lot + more. Everybody's coming, I tell you. If Mukton Lode doesn't sit up and + take notice with a new lease of life after tonight, I'm a Dutchman. Run, + there's the bell.” + </p> + <p> + The merciful Scribe will spare the reader the details incident upon the + arrival of the several guests. These dinners are all alike: the + announcements by the butler; the passing of the cocktails on a wine tray; + the standing around until the last man has entered the drawing-room; the + perfunctory talk—the men who have met before hobnobbing instantly + with each other, the host bearing the brunt of the strangers; the saunter + into the dining-room, the reading of cards, and the “Here you are, Mr. + Portman, right alongside Mr. Hodges. And Crossbin, you are down there + somewhere”; the spreading of napkins and squaring of everybody's elbow as + each man drops into his seat. + </p> + <p> + Neither will the reader be told of the various dishes or their + garnishings. These pages have so far been filled with little else beside + eating and drinking, and with reason, too, for have not all the great + things in life been begun over some tea-table, carried on at a luncheon, + and completed between the soup and the cordials? Kings, diplomats and + statesmen have long since agreed that for baiting a trap there is nothing + like a soup, an entree and a roast, the whole moistened by a flagon of + honest wine. The bait varies when the financier or promoter sets out to + catch a capitalist, just as it does when one sets out to catch a mouse, + and yet the two mammals are much alike—timid, one foot at a time, + nosing about to find out if any of his friends have had a nibble; scared + at the least disturbing echo—then the fat, toothsome cheese looms up + (Breen's Madeira this time), and in they go. + </p> + <p> + But if fuller description of this special bait be omitted, there is no + reason why that of the baiters and the baited should be left out of the + narrative. + </p> + <p> + Old Colonel Purviance, of the Chesapeake Club, for one—a + big-paunched man who always wore, summer and winter, a reasonably white + waistcoat and a sleazy necktie; swore in a loud voice and dropped his g's + when he talked. “Bit 'em off,” his friends said, as he did the end of his + cigars. He had, in honor of the occasion so contrived that his black coat + and trousers matched this time, while his shoestring tie had been replaced + by a white cravat. But the waistcoat was of the old pattern and the top + button loose, as usual. The Colonel earned his living—and a very + comfortable one it was—by promoting various enterprises—some + of them rather shady. He had also a gift for both starting and maintaining + a boom. Most of the Mukton stock owned by the Southern contingent had been + floated by him. Another of his accomplishments was his ability to label + correctly, with his eyes shut, any bottle of Madeira from anybody's + cellar, and to his credit, be it said, he never lied about the quality, be + it good, bad or abominable. + </p> + <p> + Next to him sat Mason, from Chicago—a Westerner who had made his + money in a sudden rise in real estate, and who had moved to New York to + spend it: an out-spoken, common-sense, plain man, with yellow eyebrows, + yellow head partly bald, and his red face blue specked with powder marks + due to a premature blast in his mining days. Mason couldn't tell the best + Tiernan Madeira from corner-grocery sherry, and preferred whiskey at any + and all hours—and what was more, never assumed for one instant that + he could. + </p> + <p> + Then came Hodges, the immaculately dressed epicure—a pale, + clean-shaven, eye-glassed, sterilized kind of a man with a long neck and + skinny fingers, who boasted of having twenty-one different clarets stored + away under his sidewalk which were served to ordinary guests, and five + special vintages which he kept under lock and key, and which were only + uncorked for the elect, and who invariably munched an olive before + sampling the next wine. Then followed such lesser lights, as Nixon, Leslie + and the other guests. + </p> + <p> + A most exacting group of bons vivants, these. The host had realized it and + had brought out his best. Most of it, to be sure, had come from Beaver + Street, something “rather dry, with an excellent bouquet,” the crafty + salesman with gimlet eyes had said; but, then, most of the old Madeira + does come from Beaver Street, except Portman's, who has a fellow with a + nose and a palate hunting the auction rooms for that particular Sunset of + 1834 which had lain in old Mr. Grinnells cellar for twenty-two years; and + that other of 1839, once possessed by Colonel Purviance, a wine which had + so sharpened the Colonel's taste that he was always uncomfortable when + dining outside of his club or away from the tables of one or two experts + like himself. + </p> + <p> + These, then, were the palates to which Breen catered. Back of them lay + their good-will and good feeling; still back of them, again, their bank + accounts and—another scoop in Mukton! Most of the guests had had a + hand in the last deal and they were ready to share in the next. Although + this particular dinner was supposed to be a celebration of the late + victory, two others, equally elaborate, had preceded it; both Crossbin and + Hodges having entertained nearly this same group of men at their own + tables. That Breen, with his reputation for old Madeira and his supposed + acquaintance with the intricacies of a Maryland kitchen, would outclass + them both, had been whispered a dozen times since the receipt of his + invitation, and he knew it. Hence the alert boy, the chef in the white + cap, and hence the seesawing on the hearth-rug. + </p> + <p> + “Like it, Crossbin?” asked Breen. + </p> + <p> + Parkins had just passed down the table with a dust covered bottle which he + handled with the care of a collector fingering a peachblow vase. The + precious fluid had been poured into that gentleman's glass and its + contents were now within an inch of his nose. + </p> + <p> + The moment was too grave for instant reply; Mr. Crossbin was allowing the + aroma to mount to the innermost recesses of his nostrils. It had only been + a few years since he had performed this same trick with a gourd suspended + from a nail in his father's back kitchen, overlooking a field of growing + corn; but that fact was not public property—not here in New York. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—smooth, and with something of the hills in it. Chateau Lamont, + is it not, of '61?” It was Chateau of something-or-other, and of some + year, but Breen was too wise to correct him. He supposed it was Chateau + Lafitte—that is, he had instructed Parkins to serve that particular + wine and vintage. + </p> + <p> + “Either '61 or '63,” replied Breen with the air of positive certainty. + (How that boy in the white apron, who had watched the boss paste on the + labels, would have laughed had he been under the table.) + </p> + <p> + Further down the cloth Hodges, the epicure, was giving his views as to the + proper way of serving truffles. A dish had just passed, with an + underpinning of crust. Hodges's early life had qualified him as an expert + in cooking, as well as in wines: Ten years in a country store swapping + sugar for sausages and tea for butter and eggs; five more clerk in a + Broadway cloth house, with varied boarding-house experiences (boiled + mutton twice a week, with pudding on Sundays); three years junior partner, + with a room over Delmonico's; then a rich wife and a directorship in a + bank (his father-in-law was the heaviest depositor); next, one year in + Europe and home, as vice-president, and at the present writing president + of one of the certify-as-early-as-ten-o'clock-in-the-morning kind of + banks, at which Peter would so often laugh. With these experiences there + came the usual blooming and expanding—all the earlier life forgotten, really ignored. Soon the food of the country became unbearable. + Even the canvasbacks must feed on a certain kind of wild celery; the + oysters be dredged from a particular cove, and the terrapin drawn from + their beds with the Hodges' coat of arms cut in their backs before they + would be allowed a place on the ex-clerk's table. + </p> + <p> + It is no wonder, then, that everybody listened when the distinguished + epicure launched out on the proper way to both acquire and serve so rare + and toothsome a morsel as a truffle. + </p> + <p> + “Mine come by every steamer,” Hodges asserted in a positive tone—not + to anybody in particular, but with a sweep of the table to attract enough + listeners to make it worthwhile for him to proceed. “My man is aboard + before the gang-plank is secure—gets my package from the chief + steward and is at my house with the truffles within an hour. Then I at + once take proper care of them. That is why my truffles have that peculiar + flavor you spoke of, Mr. Portman, when you last dined at my house. You + remember, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + Portman nodded. He did not remember—not the truffles. He recalled + some white port—but that was because he had bought the balance of + the lot himself. + </p> + <p> + “Where do they come from?” inquired Mason, the man from Chicago. He wanted + to know and wasn't afraid to ask. + </p> + <p> + “All through France. Mine are rooted near a little village in the Province + of Perigord.” + </p> + <p> + “What roots 'em?” + </p> + <p> + “Hogs—trained hogs. You are familiar, of course, with the way they + are secured?” + </p> + <p> + Mason—plain man as he was—wasn't familiar with anything + remotely connected with the coralling of truffles, and said so. Hodges + talked on, his eye resting first on one and then another of the guests, + his voice increasing in volume whenever a fresh listener craned his neck, + as if the information was directed to him alone—a trick of Hodges' + when he wanted an audience. + </p> + <p> + “And now a word of caution,” he continued; “some thing that most of you + may not know—always root on a rainy day—sunshine spoils their + flavor—makes them tough and leathery.” + </p> + <p> + “Kind of hog got anything to do with the taste?” asked Mason in all + sincerity. He was learning New York ways—a new lesson each day, and + intended to keep on, but not by keeping his mouth shut. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing whatever,” replied Hodges. “They must never be allowed to bite + them, of course. You can wound a truffle as you can everything else.” + </p> + <p> + Mason looked off into space and the Colonel bent his ear. Purviance's diet + had been largely drawn from his beloved Chesapeake, and “dug-up dead + things”—as he called the subject under discussion—didn't + interest him. He wanted to laugh—came near it—then he suddenly + remembered how important a man Hodges might be and how necessary it was to + give him air space in which to float his pet balloons and so keep him well + satisfied with himself. + </p> + <p> + Mason, the Chicago man, had no such scruples. He had twice as much money + as Hodges, four times his digestion and ten times his commonsense. + </p> + <p> + “Send that dish back here, Breen,” Mason cried out in a clear voice—so + loud that Parkins, winged by the shot, retraced his steps. “I want to see + what Mr. Hodges is talking about. Never saw a truffle that I know of.” + Here he turned the bits of raw rubber over with his fork. “No. Take it + away. Guess I'll pass. Hog saw it first; he can have it.” + </p> + <p> + Hodges's face flushed, then he joined in the laugh. The Chicago man was + too valuable a would-be subscriber to quarrel with. And, then, how + impossible to expect a person brought up as Mason had been to understand + the ordinary refinements of civilization. + </p> + <p> + “Rough diamond, Mason—Good fellow. Backbone of our country,” Hodges + whispered to the Colonel, who was sore from the strain of repressed + hilarity. “A little coarse now and then—but that comes of his early + life, no doubt.” + </p> + <p> + Hodges waited his chance and again launched out; this time it was upon the + various kinds of wines his cellar contained—their cost—who had + approved of them—how impossible it was to duplicate some of them, + especially some Johannesburg of '74. + </p> + <p> + “Forty-two dollars a bottle—not pressed in the ordinary way—just + the weight of the grapes in the basket in which they are gathered in the + vineyard, and what naturally drips through is caught and put aside,” etc. + </p> + <p> + Breen winced. First his truffles were criticised, and now his pet + Johannesburg that Parkins was pouring into special glasses—cooled to + an exact temperature—part of a case, he explained to Nixon, who sat + on his right, that Count Mosenheim had sent to a friend here. Something + must be done to head Hodges off or there was no telling what might happen. + The Madeira was the thing. He knew that was all right, for Purviance had + found it in Baltimore—part of a private cellar belonging some time + in the past to either the Swan or Thomas families—he could not + remember which. + </p> + <p> + The redheads were now in order, with squares of fried hominy, and for the + moment Hodges held his peace. This was Nixon's opportunity, and he made + the most of it. He had been born on the eastern shore of Maryland and was + brought up on canvasbacks, soft-shell crabs and terrapin—not to + mention clams and sheepshead. Nixon therefore launched out on the habits + of the sacred bird—the crimes committed by the swivel-gun in the + hands of the marketmen, the consequent scarcity of the game and the near + approach of the time when the only rare specimens would be found in the + glass cases of the museums, ending his talk with a graphic description of + the great wooden platters of boiling-hot terrapin which were served to + passengers crossing to Norfolk in the old days. The servants would split + off the hot shell—this was turned top side down, used as a dish and + filled with butter, pepper and salt, into which toothsome bits of the + reptile, torn out by the guests' forks, were dipped before being eaten. + </p> + <p> + The talk now caromed from birds, reptiles and fish to guns and tackles, + and then to the sportsmen who used them, and then to the millionaires who + owned the largest shares in the ducking clubs, and so on to the stock of + the same, and finally to the one subject of the evening—the one + uppermost in everybody's thoughts which so far had not been touched upon—the + Mukton Lode. There was no question about the proper mechanism of the traps—the + directors were attending to that; the quality of the bait, too, seemed all + that could be desired—that was Breen's part. How many mice were + nosing about was the question, and of the number how many would be inside + when the spring snapped? + </p> + <p> + The Colonel, after a nod of his head and a reassuring glance from his + host, took full charge of the field, soaring away with minute accounts of + the last inspection of the mine. He told how the “tailings” at Mukton City + had panned out 30 per cent, to the ton—with two hundred thousand + tons in the dump thrown away until the new smelter was started and they + could get rid of the sulphides; of what Aetna Cobb's Crest had done and + Beals Hollow and Morgan Creek—all on the same ridge, and was about + launching out on the future value of Mukton Lode when Mason broke the + silence by asking if any one present had heard of a mine somewhere in + Nevada which an Englishman had bought and which had panned out $1,200 to + the ton the first week and not a cent to the square mile ever afterward? + The Chicago man was the most important mouse of the lot, and the tone of + his voice and his way of speaking seemed fraught with a purpose. + </p> + <p> + Breen leaned forward in rapt attention, and even Hodges and Portman (both + of them were loaded to the scuppers with Mukton) stopped talking. + </p> + <p> + “Slickest game I ever heard of,” continued Mason. “Two men came into town—two + poor prospectors, remember—ran across the Englishman at the hotel—told + the story of their claim: 'Take it or leave it after you look it over,' + they said. Didn't want but sixty thousand for it; that would give them + thirty thousand apiece, after which they'd quit and live on a ranch. No, + they wouldn't go with him to inspect the mine; there was the map. He + couldn't miss it; man at the hotel would drive him out there. There was, + of course, a foot of snow on the ground, which was frozen hard, but they + had provided for that and had cut a lot of cord-wood, intending to stay + till spring. The Englishman could have the wood to thaw out the ground.” + </p> + <p> + “The Englishman went and found everything as the two prospectors had said; + thawed out the soil in half a dozen places; scooped up the dirt and every + shovelful panned out about twelve hundred to the ton. Then he came back + and paid the money; that was the last of it. Began to dig again in the + spring—and not a trace of anything.” + </p> + <p> + “What was the matter?” asked Breen. So far his interest in mines had been + centred on the stock. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the same old swindle,” said Mason, looking around the table, a grim + smile on his face—“only in a different way.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it salted?” called out a man from the lower end of the table. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied Mason; “not the mine, but the cord-wood. The two poor + prospectors had bored auger holes in each stick, stuffed 'em full of gold + dust and plugged the openings. It was the ashes that panned out $1,200 to + the ton.” + </p> + <p> + Mason was roaring, as were one or two about him. Portman looked grave, and + so did Breen. Nothing of that kind had ever soiled their hands; everything + with them was open and above-board. They might start a rumor that the Lode + had petered out, throw an avalanche of stock on the market, knock it down + ten points, freezing out the helpless (poor Gilbert had been one of them), + buy in what was offered and then declare an extra dividend, sending the + stock skyward, but anything so low as—“Oh, very reprehensible—scandalous + in fact.” + </p> + <p> + Hodges was so moved by the incident that he asked Breen if he would not + bring back that Madeira (it had been served now in the pipe-stem glasses + which had been crossed in finger-bowls). This he sipped slowly and + thoughtfully, as if the enormity of the crime had quite appalled him. + Mason was no longer a “rough diamond,” but an example of what a “Western + training will sometimes do for a man,” he whispered under his breath to + Crossbin. + </p> + <p> + With the departure of the last guest—one or two of them were a + little unsteady; not Mason, we may be sure—Jack, who had come home + and was waiting upstairs in his room for the feast to be over, squared his + shoulders, threw up his chin and, like many another crusader bent on + straightening the affairs of the world, started out to confront his uncle. + His visor was down, his lance in rest, his banner unfurled, the scarf of + the blessed damosel tied in double bow-knot around his trusty right arm. + Both knight and maid were unconscious of the scarf, and yet if the truth + be told it was Ruth's eyes that had swung him into battle. Now he was + ready to fight; to renounce the comforts of life and live on a crust + rather than be party to the crimes that were being daily committed under + his very eyes! + </p> + <p> + His uncle was in the library, having just bowed out his last guest, when + the boy strode in. About him were squatty little tables holding the + remnants of the aftermath of the feast—siphons and decanters and the + sample boxes of cigars—full to the lid when Parkins first passed + them (why fresh cigars out of a full box should have a better flavor than + the same cigars from a half-empty one has always been a mystery to the + Scribe). + </p> + <p> + That the dinner had been a success gastronomically, socially and + financially, was apparent from the beatific boozy smile that pervaded + Breen's face as he lay back in his easy-chair. To disturb a reverie of + this kind was as bad as riding rough-shod over some good father digesting + his first meal after Lent, but the boy's purpose was too lofty to be + blunted by any such considerations. Into the arena went his glove and out + rang his challenge. + </p> + <p> + “What I have got to say to you, Uncle Arthur, breaks my heart, but you + have got to listen to me! I have waited until they were all gone to tell + you.” + </p> + <p> + Breen laid his glass on the table and straightened himself in his chair. + His brain was reeling from the wine he had taken and his hand unsteady, + but he still had control of his arms and legs. + </p> + <p> + “Well, out with it! What's it all about, Jack?” + </p> + <p> + “I heard this afternoon that my friend Gilbert was ruined in our office. + The presence of these men to-night makes me believe it to be true. If it + is true, I want to tell you that I'll never enter the office again as long + as I live!” + </p> + <p> + Breen's eyes flashed: + </p> + <p> + “You'll never enter!... What the devil is the matter with you, Jack!—are + you drunk or crazy?” + </p> + <p> + “Neither! And I want to tell you, sir, too, that I won't be pointed out as + having anything to do with such a swindling concern as the Mukton Lode + Company. You've stopped the work on Gilbert's house—Mr. Morris told + me so—you've—” + </p> + <p> + The older man sprang from his seat and lunged toward the boy. + </p> + <p> + “Stop it!” he cried. “Now—quick!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—and you've just given a dinner to the very men who helped steal + his money, and they sat here and laughed about it! I heard them as I came + in!” The boy's tears were choking him now. + </p> + <p> + “Didn't I tell you to stop, you idiot!” His fist was within an inch of + Jack's nose: “Do you want me to knock your head off? What the hell is it + your business who I invite to dinner—and what do you know about + Mukton Lode? Now you go to bed, and damn quick, too! Parkins, put out the + lights!” + </p> + <p> + And so ended the great crusade with our knight unhorsed and floundering in + the dust. Routed by the powers of darkness, like many another gallant + youth in the old chivalric days, his ideals laughed at, his reforms + flouted, his protests ignored—and this, too, before he could fairly + draw his sword or couch his lance. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI + </h2> + <p> + That Jack hardly closed his eyes that night, and that the first thing he + did after opening them the next morning was to fly to Peter for comfort + and advice, goes without saying. Even a sensible, well-balanced young man—and + our Jack, to the Scribe's great regret, is none of these—would have + done this with his skin still smarting from an older man's verbal + scorching—especially a man like his uncle, provided, of course, he + had a friend like Peter within reach. How much more reasonable, therefore, + to conclude that a man so quixotic as our young hero would seek similar + relief. + </p> + <p> + As to the correctness of the details of this verbal scorching, so minutely + described in the preceding chapter, should the reader ask how it is + possible for the Scribe to set down in exact order the goings-on around a + dinner-table to which he was not invited, as well as the particulars of a + family row where only two persons participated—neither of whom was + himself—and this, too, in the dead of night, with the outside doors + locked and the shades and curtains drawn—he must plead guilty + without leaving the prisoner's dock. + </p> + <p> + And yet he asks in all humility—is the play not enough?—or + must he lift the back-drop and bring into view the net-work of pulleys and + lines, the tanks of moonlight gas and fake properties of papier-mache that + produce the illusion? As a compromise would it not be the better way after + this for him to play the Harlequin, popping in and out at the unexpected + moment, helping the plot here and there by a gesture, a whack, or a + pirouette; hobnobbing with Peter or Miss Felicia, and their friends; + listening to Jack's and Ruth's talk, or following them at a distance, + whenever his presence might embarrass either them or the comedy? + </p> + <p> + This being agreed upon, we will leave our hero this bright morning—the + one succeeding the row with his uncle—at the door of Peter's bank, + confident that Jack can take care of himself. + </p> + <p> + And the confidence is not misplaced. Only once did the boy's glance waver, + and that was when his eyes sought the window facing Peter's desk. Some egg + other than Peter's was nesting on the open ledger spread out on the + Receiving Teller's desk—not an ostrich egg of a head at all, but an + evenly parted, well-combed, well-slicked brown wig, covering the careful + pate of one of the other clerks who, in the goodness of his heart, was + filling Peter's place for the day. + </p> + <p> + Everybody being busy—too busy to answer questions outside of + payments and deposits—Patrick, the porter, must necessarily conduct + the negotiations. + </p> + <p> + “No, sur; he's not down to-day—” was the ever-watchful Patrick's + answer to Jack's anxious inquiry. “His sister's come from the country and + he takes a day off now and thin when she's here. You'll find him up at his + place in Fifteenth Street, I'm thinkin'.” + </p> + <p> + Jack bit his lip. Here was another complication. Not to find Peter at the + Bank meant a visit to his rooms—on his holiday, too—and when + he doubtless wished to be alone with Miss Felicia. And yet how could he + wait a moment longer? He himself had sent word to the office of Breen + & Co. that he would not be there that day—a thing he had never + done before—nor did he intend to go on the morrow—not until he + knew where he stood. While his uncle had grossly misunderstood him, and, + for that matter, grossly insulted him, he had neither admitted nor denied + the outrage on Gilbert. + </p> + <p> + When he did—this question had only now begun to loom up—where + would he go and what would he do? There was but little money due him at + the office—and none would come—until the next month's pay—hardly + enough, in any event, to take him back to his Maryland home, even if that + refuge were still open to him. What then would become of him? Peter was, + in fact, his main and only reliance. Peter he must see, and at once. + </p> + <p> + Not that he wavered or grew faint at heart when he thought of his defeat + the night before. He was only thinking of his exit and the way to make it. + “Always take your leave like a gentleman,” was one of his father's maxims. + This he would try his best to accomplish. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. McGuffey, in white cap and snow-white apron, now that Miss Felicia + had arrived, was the medium of communication this time: + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, they are both in—this way, sir, and let me have your hat + and coat.” + </p> + <p> + It was a delightful party that greeted the boy. Peter was standing on the + hearth-rug with his back to the fire, his coat-tails hooked over his + wrists. Miss Felicia sat by a small table pretending to sew. Holker Morris + was swallowed up in one of Peter's big easy-chairs, only the top of his + distinguished head visible, while a little chub of a man, gray-haired, + spectacled and plainly dressed, was seated behind him, the two talking in + an undertone. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Breen!—why, my dear boy!—And you have a holiday, too? + How did you know I was home?” cried Peter, extending both hands in the joy + of his greeting. + </p> + <p> + “I stopped at the Bank, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you?—and who told you?” + </p> + <p> + “The janitor, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the good Patrick! Well, well! Holker, you remember young Breen.” + </p> + <p> + Holker did remember, for a wonder, and extended one hand to prove it, and + Felicia—but the boy was already bending over her, all his respect + and admiration in his eyes. The little chub of a man was now on his feet, + standing in an attentive attitude, ready to take his cue from Peter. + </p> + <p> + “And now, my boy, turn this way, and let me introduce you to my very dear + friend, Mr. Isaac Cohen.” + </p> + <p> + A pudgy hand was thrust out and the spectacled little man, his eyes on the + boy, said he was glad to know any friend of Mr. Grayson, and resuming his + seat continued his conversation in still lower tones with the great + architect. + </p> + <p> + Jack stood irresolute for an instant, not knowing whether to make some + excuse for his evidently inopportune visit and return later, or to keep + his seat until the others had gone. Miss Felicia, who had not taken her + gaze from the lad since he entered the room, called him to her side. + </p> + <p> + “Now, tell me what you are all doing at home, and how your dear aunt is, + and—Miss Corinne, isn't it? And that very bright young fellow who + came with you at Ruth's tea?” + </p> + <p> + It was the last subject that Jack wanted to discuss, but he stumbled + through it as best he could, and ended in hoping, in a halting tone, that + Miss MacFarlane was well. + </p> + <p> + “Ruth! Oh, she is a darling! Didn't you think so?” + </p> + <p> + Jack blushed to the roots of his hair, but Miss Felicia's + all-comprehensive glance never wavered. This was the young man whom Ruth + had been mysterious about. She intended to know how far the affair had + gone, and it would have been useless, she knew, for Jack to try to deceive + her. + </p> + <p> + “All our Southern girls are lovely,” he answered in all sincerity. + </p> + <p> + “And you like them better than the New York belles?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know any.” + </p> + <p> + “Then that means that you do.” + </p> + <p> + “Do what?” + </p> + <p> + “Do like them better.” + </p> + <p> + The boy thought for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and Miss MacFarlane best of all; she is so—so—” the boy + faltered—“so sincere, and just the kind of girl you would trust with + anything. Why, I told her all about myself before I'd known her half an + hour.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, she was greatly pleased.” The match-making instinct was always + uppermost in Miss Felicia's moves, and then, again, this young man had + possibilities, his uncle being rich and he being his only nephew. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, then she told you!” The boy's heart gave a great leap. Perhaps, after + all, Ruth had not heard—at all events she did not despise him. + </p> + <p> + “No, I told her myself. The only thing that seemed to worry Ruth was that + you had not told her enough. If I remember right, she said you were very + shy.” + </p> + <p> + “And she did not say anything about—” Jack stopped. He had not + intended to put the question quite in this way, although he was still in + doubt. Give this keen-eyed, white-haired old lady but an inkling of what + was uppermost in his mind and he knew she would have its every detail. + </p> + <p> + “About what?” Here Miss Felicia's eyes were suddenly diverted, and became + fastened on the short figure of Mr. Isaac Cohen, who had risen to his feet + and stood talking in the most confidential way with Morris—Peter + listening intently. Such phrases as “Better make the columns of marble,” + from Morris, and, “Well, I will talk it over with the Rabbi,” from the + tailor, reached his ears. Further relief came when Miss Felicia rose from + her chair with her hand extended to Morris, who was already taking leave + of Peter and all danger was passed when host and hostess conducted the + tailor and the architect to the door; Morris bending over Miss Felicia's + hand and kissing it with the air of a courtier suddenly aroused by the + appearance of royalty (he had been completely immersed in Cohen's talk), + and the tailor bowing to her on his way out without even so much as + touching the tips of her fingers. + </p> + <p> + “There, my dear Breen,” said Peter, when he had adjusted his cravat before + the glass and brushed a few stray hairs over his temples, “that's a man it + would do you an immense amount of good to know; the kind of a man you call + worthwhile. Not only does he speak three languages, Hebrew being one of + them, but he can talk on any subject from Greek temples to the raising of + violets. Morris thinks the world of him—So do I.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I heard him say something about columns.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!—then you overheard! Yes, they are for the new synagogue that + Morris is building. Cohen is chairman of the committee.” + </p> + <p> + “And he is the banker, too, I suppose?” rejoined Jack, in a tone which + showed his lack of interest in both man and subject. It was Peter's ear he + wanted, and at once. + </p> + <p> + The old man's eyes twinkled: “Banker!—not a bit of it. He's a + tailor, my dear boy—a most delightful gentleman tailor, who works in + the basement below us and who only yesterday pressed the coat I have on.” + Here Peter surveyed himself with a comprehensive glance. “All the + respectable people in New York are not money mad.” Then, seeing Jack's + look of astonishment over the announcement, he laid his hand on the boy's + shoulder and said with a twinkle of his eye and a little laugh: “Only one + tailor—not nine—my boy, was required to make Mr. Cohen a man. + And now about yourself. Why are you not at work? Old fellows like me once + in a while have a holiday—but young fellows! Come!—What is it + brings you here during business hours? Anything I can help you in?—anything + at home?” and Peter's eyes bored holes in the boy's brain. + </p> + <p> + Jack glanced at Miss Felicia, who was arranging the roses Morris had + brought her, and then said in a half whisper: “I have had a row with my + uncle, sir. Maybe I had better come some other day, when—” + </p> + <p> + “No—out with it! Row with your uncle, eh? Rows with one's uncles are + too commonplace to get mysterious over, and, then, we have no secrets. Ten + chances to one I shall tell Felicia every word you say after you've gone, + so she might as well hear it at first-hand. Felicia, this young fellow is + so thin-skinned he is afraid you will laugh at him.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he knows better. I have just been telling him how charming he must be + to have won Miss MacFarlane's good opinion,” rejoined his sister as she + moved her work-basket nearer her elbow. + </p> + <p> + And then, with mind at rest, now that he was sure Ruth had not heard, and + with eyes again blazing as his thoughts dwelt upon the outrage, he poured + out his story, Miss Felicia listening intently, a curious expression on + her face, Peter grave and silent, his gaze now on the boy, now on the + hearth-rug on which he stood. Only once did a flash illumine his + countenance; that was when Jack reached that part of his narrative which + told of the denunciation he had flung in his uncle's face concerning the + methods by which poor Gilbert had been ruined. + </p> + <p> + “And you dared tell your uncle that, you young firebrand?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mr. Grayson, I had to; what else could I say? Don't you think it + cruel to cheat like that?” + </p> + <p> + “And what did he say?” asked Peter. + </p> + <p> + “He would not listen—he swore at me—told me—well, he + ordered me out of the room and had the lights put out.” + </p> + <p> + “And it served you right, you young dog! Well, upon my word! Here you are + without a dollar in the world except what your uncle pays you, and you fly + off at a tangent and insult him in his own house—and you his guest, + remember. Well! Well! What are we coming to? Felicia, did you ever hear of + such a performance?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Felicia made no answer. She knew from her brother's tone that there + was not a drop of bitterness in any one of the words that fell from his + lips; she had heard him talk that way dozens of times before, when he was + casting about for some means of letting the culprit down the easier. She + even detected a slight wrinkling of the corners of his mouth as the + denunciation rolled out. + </p> + <p> + Not so Jack: To him the end of the world had come. Peter was his last + resort—that one so good and so clear-headed had not flared up at + once over the villainy was the severest blow of all. Perhaps he WAS a + firebrand; perhaps, after all, it was none of his business; perhaps—perhaps—now + that Ruth would not blame him, knew nothing, in fact, of the disgraceful + episode, it would have been better for him to have ignored the whole + matter and taken Garry's advice. + </p> + <p> + “Then I have done wrong again, Mr. Grayson?” he said at last, in so + pleading a tone that even Miss Felicia's reserve was on the point of + giving away. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, in the manner in which you acted. Your father wouldn't have lost his + temper and called people names. Gentlemen, my dear boy, don't do that sort + of thing. They make up their minds about what they want to do and then do + it quietly, and, let me say, with a certain amount of courtesy.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, what must I do?” All the fight was out of the lad now. + </p> + <p> + “Why, go back to your desk in the office and your very delightful suite of + rooms at your uncle's. Tell him you are sorry you let your feelings get + the best of you; then, when you have entirely quieted down, you and I will + put our heads together and see what can be done to improve matters. And + that, let me tell you, my dear boy, is going to be rather a difficult + thing, for you see you are rather particular as to what you should and + should not do to earn your living.” Peter's wrinkles had now crept up his + cheeks and were playing hide and seek with the twinkles in his eyes. “Of + course any kind of healthy work—such, for instance, as hauling a + chain through a swamp, carrying a level, prospecting for oil, or copper, + or gold—all very respectable occupations for some men—are + quite impossible in your case. But we will think it out and find something + easier—something that won't soil your hands, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Please don't, Mr. Grayson,” interrupted Jack. The boy had begun to see + through the raillery now. “I will do anything you want me to do.” + </p> + <p> + Peter burst into a laugh and grabbed him by both shoulders: “Of course, my + dear boy, you will do anything except what you believe to be wrong. That's + right—right as can be; nobody wants you to do any different, and—” + </p> + <p> + The opening of a door leading into the hall caused Peter to stop in his + harangue and turn his head. Mrs. McGuffey was ushering in a young woman + whose radiant face was like a burst of sunshine. Peter strained his eyes + and then sprang forward: + </p> + <p> + “Why, Ruth!” + </p> + <p> + There was no doubt about it! That young woman, her cheeks like two June + peonies, her eyes dancing, the daintiest and prettiest hat in the world on + her head, was already half across the room and close to Peter's rug before + Jack could even realize that he and she were breathing the same air. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I just could not wait a minute longer!” she cried in a joyous tone. + “I had such a good time yesterday, dear aunt Felicia, and—Why!—it + is you, Mr. Breen, and have you come to tell aunty the same thing? Wasn't + it lovely?” + </p> + <p> + Then Jack said that it was lovely, and that he hadn't come for any such + purpose—then that he had—and then Peter patted her hand and + told her she was the prettiest thing he had ever seen in all his life, and + that he was going to throw overboard all his other sweethearts at once and + cleave to her alone; and Miss Felicia vowed that she was the life of the + party; and Jack devoured her with his eyes, his heart thumping away at + high pressure; and so the moments fled until the blithesome young girl, + saying she had not a minute to spare, as she had to meet her father, who + would not wait, readjusted her wraps, kissed Miss Felicia on both cheeks, + sent another flying through the air toward Peter from the tips of her + fingers, and with Jack as escort—he also had to see a friend who + would not wait a minute—danced out of the room and so on down to the + street. + </p> + <p> + The Scribe will not follow them very far in their walk uptown. Both were + very happy, Jack because the scandal he had been dreading, since he had + last looked into her eyes, had escaped her ears, and Ruth because of all + the young men she had met in her brief sojourn in New York this young Mr. + Breen treated her with most consideration. + </p> + <p> + While the two were making their way through the crowded streets, Jack + helping her over the crossings, picking out the drier spots for her dainty + feet to step upon, shielding her from the polluting touch of the passing + throng, Miss Felicia had resumed her sewing—it was a bit of lace + that needed a stitch here and there—and Peter, dragging a chair + before the fire, had thrown himself into its depths, his long, thin white + fingers open fan-like to its blaze. + </p> + <p> + “You are just wasting your time, Peter, over that young man,” Miss Felicia + said at last, snipping the end of a thread with her scissors. “Better buy + him a guitar with a broad blue ribbon and start him off troubadouring, or, + better still, put him into a suit of tin armor and give him a lance. He + doesn't belong to this world. It's just as well Ruth did not hear that + rigmarole. Charming manners, I admit—lovely, sitting on a cushion + looking up into some young girl's eyes, but he will never make his way + here with those notions. Why he should want to anger his uncle, who is + certainly most kind to him, is past finding out. He's stupid, that's what + he is—just stupid!”—to break with your bread and butter and to + defy those who could be of service to you being an unpardonable sin with + Miss Felicia. No, he would not do at all for Ruth. + </p> + <p> + Peter settled himself deeper in his chair and studied the cheery blaze + between his outspread fingers. + </p> + <p> + “That's the very thing will save him, Felicia.” + </p> + <p> + “What—his manners?” + </p> + <p> + “No—his adorable stupidity. I grant you he's fighting windmills, + but, then, my dear, don't forget that he's FIGHTING—that's + something.” + </p> + <p> + “But they are only windmills, and, more extraordinary still, this one is + grinding corn to keep him from starving,” and she folded up her sewing + preparatory to leaving the room. + </p> + <p> + Peter's fingers closed tight: “I'm not so sure of that,” he answered + gravely. + </p> + <p> + Miss Felicia had risen from her seat and was now bending over the back of + his chair, her spare sharp elbows resting on its edge, her two hands + clasping his cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “And are you really going to add this stupid boy to your string, you goose + of a Peter?” she asked in a bantering tone, as her fingers caressed his + temples. “Don't forget Mosenthal and little Perkins, and the waiter you + brought home and fed for a week, and sent away in your best overcoat, + which he pawned the next day; or the two boys at college. Aren't you ever + going to learn?” and she leaned forward and kissed the top of his bald + head. + </p> + <p> + Peter's only reply was to reach up and smooth her jewelled fingers with + his own. He remembered them all; there was an excuse, of course, he + reminded her, for his action in each and every case. But for him Mosenthal—really + a great violinist—would have starved, little Perkins would have been + sent to the reformatory, and the waiter to the dogs. That none of them, + except the two college boys, had ever thanked him for his assistance—a + fact well known to Miss Felicia—never once crossed his mind—wouldn't + have made any difference if it had. + </p> + <p> + “But this young Breen is worth saving, Felicia,” he answered at last. + </p> + <p> + “From what—the penitentiary?” she laughed—this time with a + slight note of anger in her voice. + </p> + <p> + “No, you foolish thing—much worse.” + </p> + <p> + “From what, then?” + </p> + <p> + “From himself.” + </p> + <p> + Long after his sister had left the room Peter kept his seat by the fire, + his eyes gazing into the slumbering coals. His holiday had been a happy + one until Jack's entrance: Morris had come to an early breakfast and had + then run down and dragged up Cohen so that he could talk with him in + comfort and away from the smell of the tailor's goose and the noise of the + opening and shutting of the shop door; Miss Felicia had summoned all her + good humor and patience (she did not always approve of Peter's + acquaintances—the little tailor being one), and had received Cohen + as she would have done a savant from another country—one whose + personal appearance belied his intellect but who on no account must be + made aware of that fact, and Peter himself had spent the hour before and + after breakfast—especially the hour after, when the Bank always + claimed him—in pulling out and putting back one book after another + from the shelves of his small library, reading a page here and a line + there, the lights and shadows that crossed his eager, absorbed face, an + index of his enjoyment. + </p> + <p> + All this had been spoiled by a wild, untamed colt of a boy whom he could + not help liking in spite of his peculiarities. + </p> + <p> + And yet, was his sister not right? Why bother himself any more about a man + so explosive and so tactless—and he WAS a man, so far as years and + stature went, who, no matter what he might attempt for his advancement, + would as surely topple it over as he would a house of cards. That the + boy's ideals were high, and his sincerity beyond question, was true, but + what use would these qualities be to him if he lacked the common-sense to + put them into practice? + </p> + <p> + All this he told to the fire—first to one little heap of coals—then + another—snuggling together—and then to the big back-log + scarred all over in its fight to keep everybody warm and happy. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly his round, glistening head ceased bobbing back and forth; his + lips, which had talked incessantly without a sound falling from them, + straightened; his gesticulating fingers tightened into a hard knot and the + old fellow rose from his easy-chair. He had made up his mind. + </p> + <p> + Then began a search through his desk in and out of the pigeon-holes, under + a heap of letters—most of them unanswered; beneath a package tied + with tape, until his eyes fell upon an envelope sealed with wax, in which + was embedded the crest of the ancestors of the young gentleman whose + future had so absorbed his thoughts. It was Mrs. Breen's acceptance of + Miss Felicia's invitation to Miss MacFarlane's tea. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, here it is! Now I'll find the number—yes, 864—I thought + it was a “4”—but I didn't want to make any mistake.” + </p> + <p> + This done, and the note with the number and street of Jack's uncle's house + spread out before him, Peter squared his elbows, took a sheet of paper + from a drawer, covered it with half a dozen lines beginning “My dear Breen—” + enclosed it in an envelope and addressed it to “Mr. John Breen, care of + Arthur Breen, Esq.,” etc. This complete, he affixed the stamp in the upper + left-hand corner, and with the letter fast in his hand disappeared in his + bedroom, from which he emerged ten minutes later in full walking costume, + even to his buckskin gloves and shiny high hat, not to mention a brand-new + silk scarf held in place by his diamond tear-drop, the two in high relief + above the lapels of his tightly buttoned surtout. + </p> + <p> + “No, Mrs. McGuffey,” he said with a cheery smile as he passed out of the + door (she had caught sight of the letter and had stretched out her hand)—“No—I + am going for a walk, and I'll mail it myself.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII + </h2> + <p> + Whatever the function—whether it was a cosey dinner for the + congenial few, a crowded reception for the uncongenial many, or a + coming-out party for some one of the eager-expectant buds just bursting + into bloom—most of whom he had known from babyhood—Peter was + always ready with his “Of course I'll come—” or “Nothing would + delight me more—” or the formal “Mr. Grayson accepts with great + pleasure,” etc., unless the event should fall upon a Saturday night; then + there was certain to be a prompt refusal. + </p> + <p> + Even Miss Felicia recognized this unbreakable engagement and made her + plans accordingly. So did good Mrs. McGuffey, who selected this night for + her own social outings; and so did most of his intimate friends who were + familiar with his habits. + </p> + <p> + On any other night you might, or you might not, find Peter at home, + dependent upon his various engagements, but if you really wanted to get + hold of his hand, or his ear, or the whole or any other part of his + delightful body, and if by any mischance you happened to select a Saturday + night for your purpose, you must search for him at the Century. To spend + this one evening at his favorite club had been his custom for years—ever + since he had been elected to full membership—a date so far back in + the dim past that the oldest habitue had to search the records to make + sure of the year, and this custom he still regularly kept up. + </p> + <p> + That the quaint old club-house was but a stone's throw from his own + quarters in Fifteenth Street made no difference; he would willingly have + tramped to Murray Hill and beyond—even as far as the big reservoir, + had the younger and more progressive element among the members picked the + institution up bodily and moved it that far—as later on they did. + </p> + <p> + Not that he favored any such innovation: “Move up-town! Why, my dear sir!” + he protested, when the subject was first mentioned, “is there nothing in + the polish of these old tables and chairs, rubbed bright by the elbows of + countless good fellows, that appeals to you? Do you think any modern + varnish can replace it? Here I have sat for thirty years or more, and—please + God!—here I want to continue to sit.” + </p> + <p> + He was at his own small table in the front room overlooking the street + when he spoke—his by right of long use, as it was also of Morris, + MacFarlane, Wright, old Partridge the painter, and Knight the sculptor. + For years this group of Centurions, after circling the rooms on meeting + nights, criticising the pictures and helping themselves to the punch, had + dropped into these same seats by the side of Peter. + </p> + <p> + And these were not the only chairs tacitly recognized as carrying special + privileges by reason of long usage. Over in the corner between the two + rooms could be found Bayard Taylor's chair—his for years, from which + he dispensed wisdom, adventure and raillery to a listening coterie—King, + MacDonough and Collins among them, while near the stairs, his great shaggy + head glistening in the overhead light, Parke Godwin held court, with + Sterling, Martin and Porter, to say nothing of still older habitues who in + the years of their membership were as much a part of the fittings of the + club as the smoke-begrimed portraits which lined its walls. + </p> + <p> + On this Saturday night he had stepped into the clubhouse with more than + his usual briskness. Sweeping a comprehensive glance around as he entered, + as if looking for some one in the hall, he slipped off his overcoat and + hat and handed both to the negro servant in charge of the cloak-room. + </p> + <p> + “George.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mr. Grayson.” + </p> + <p> + “If anybody inquires for me you will find me either on this floor or in + the library above. Don't forget, and don't make any mistake. + </p> + <p> + “No, suh—ain't goin' to be no mistake.” + </p> + <p> + This done, the old gentleman moved to the mirror, and gave a sidelong + glance at his perfectly appointed person—he had been dining at the + Portmans', had left the table early, and was in full evening dress. + </p> + <p> + The inspection proved that the points of his collar wanted straightening + the thousandth part of an inch, and that his sparse gray locks needed + combing a wee bit further toward his cheek bones. These, with a certain + rebellious fold in his necktie, having been brought into place, the + guardian of the Exeter entered the crowded room, picked a magazine from + the shelves and dropped into his accustomed seat. + </p> + <p> + Holker Morris and Lagarge now strolled in and drawing up to a small table + adjoining Peter's touched a tiny bell. This answered, and the order given, + the two renewed a conversation which had evidently been begun outside, and + which was of so absorbing a character that for a moment Peter's face, half + hidden by his book, was unnoticed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!—that's you, Methusaleh, is it!” cried Morris at last. “Move + over—have something?” + </p> + <p> + Peter looked up smiling: “Not now, Holker. I will later.” + </p> + <p> + Morris kept on talking. Lagarge, his companion—a thin, + cadaverous-looking man with a big head and the general air of having been + carved out of an old root—a great expert in ceramics—listening + intently, bobbing his head in toy-mandarin fashion whenever one of + Holker's iconoclasms cleared the air. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose they did pay thirty thousand dollars for it,” Holker insisted, + slapping his knee with his outspread palm. “That makes the picture no + better and no worse. If it was mine, and I could afford it, I would sell + it to anybody who loved it for thirty cents rather than sell it to a man + who didn't, for thirty millions. When Troyon painted it he put his soul + into it, and you can no more tack a price to that than you can stick an + auction card on a summer cloud, or appraise the perfume from a rose + garden. It has no money value, Legarge, and never will have. You might as + well list sunsets on the Stock Exchange.” + </p> + <p> + “But Troyon had to live, Holker,” chimed in Harrington, who, with the + freedom accorded every member of the club—one of its greatest charms—had + just joined the group and sat listening. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” rejoined Morris, a quizzical expression crossing his face—“that + was the curse of it. He was born a man and had a stomach instead of being + born a god without one. As to living—he didn't really live—no + great painter really lives until he is dead. And that's the way it should + be—they would never have become immortal with a box full of bonds + among their assets. They would have stopped work. Now they can rest in + their graves with the consciousness that they have done their level best.” + </p> + <p> + “There is one thing would lift him out of it, or ought to,” remarked + Harrington, with a glance around the circle. “I am, of course, speaking of + Troyon.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” asked Morris. + </p> + <p> + “The news that Roberts paid thirty thousand dollars for a picture for + which the painter was glad to get three thousand francs,” a reply which + brought a roar from the group, Morris joining in heartily. + </p> + <p> + The circle had now widened to the filling of a dozen chairs, Morris's way + of putting things being one of the features of club nights, he, as usual, + dominating the talk, calling out “Period”—his way of notifying some + speaker to come to a full stop, whenever he broke away from the facts and + began soaring into hyperbolics—Morgan, Harrington and the others + laughing in unison at his sallies. + </p> + <p> + The clouds of tobacco smoke grew thicker. The hum of conversation louder; + especially at an adjoining table where one lean old Academician in a + velvet skull cap was discussing the new impressionistic craze which had + just begun to show itself in the work of the younger men. This had gone on + for some minutes when the old man turned upon them savagely and began + ridiculing the new departure as a cloak to hide poor drawing, an outspoken + young painter asserting in their defence, that any technique was helpful + if it would kill off the snuff-box school in which the man under the skull + cap held first place. + </p> + <p> + Morris had lent an ear to the discussion and again took up the cudgels. + </p> + <p> + “You young fellows are right,” he cried, twisting his body toward their + table. The realists have had their day; they work a picture to death; all + of them. If you did but know it, it really takes two men to paint a great + picture—one to do the work and the other to kill him when he has + done enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Pity some of your murderers, Holker, didn't start before they stretched + their canvases,” laughed Harrington. + </p> + <p> + And so the hours sped on. + </p> + <p> + All this time Peter had been listening with one ear wide open—the + one nearest the door—for any sound in that direction. French + masterpieces, Impressionism and the rest of it did not interest him + to-night. Something else was stirring him—something he had been + hugging to his heart all day. + </p> + <p> + Only the big and little coals in his own fireplace in Fifteenth Street, + and perhaps the great back-log, beside himself, knew the cause. He had not + taken Miss Felicia into his confidence—that would never have done—might, + indeed, have spoilt everything. Even when he had risen from Morris's + coterie to greet Henry MacFarlane—Ruth's father—his intimate + friend for years, and who answered his hand-shake with—“Well, you + old rascal—what makes you look so happy?—anybody left you a + million?”—even then he gave no inkling of the amount of bottled + sunshine he was at the precise moment carrying inside his well-groomed + body, except to remark with all his twinkles and wrinkles scampering + loose: + </p> + <p> + “Seeing you, Henry—” an answer which, while it only excited derision + and a sly thrust of his thumb into Peter's ribs, was nevertheless + literally true if the distinguished engineer did but know it. + </p> + <p> + It was only when the hours dragged on and his oft-consulted watch marked + ten o'clock that the merry wrinkles began to straighten and the eyes to + wander. + </p> + <p> + When an additional ten minutes had ticked themselves out, and then a five + and then a ten more, the old fellow became so nervous that he began to + make a tour of the club-house, even ascending the stairs, searching the + library and dining-room, scanning each group and solitary individual he + passed, until, thoroughly discouraged, he regained his seat only to press + a bell lying among some half-empty glasses. The summoned waiter listened + attentively, his head bent low to catch the whispered order, and then + disappeared noiselessly in the direction of the front door, Peter's + fingers meanwhile beating an impatient staccato on the arm of his chair. + </p> + <p> + Nothing resulting from this experiment he at last gave up all hope and + again sought MacFarlane who was trying to pound into the head of a brother + engineer some new theory of spontaneous explosions. + </p> + <p> + Hardly had he drawn up a chair to listen—he was a better listener + to-night, somehow, than a talker, when a hand was laid on his shoulder, + and looking up, he saw Jack bending over him. + </p> + <p> + With a little cry of joy Peter sprang to his feet, both palms + outstretched: “Oh!—you're here at last! Didn't I say nine o'clock, + my dear boy, or am I wrong? Well, so you are here it's all right.” Then + with face aglow he turned to MacFarlane: “Henry, here's a young fellow you + ought to know; his name's John Breen, and he's from your State.” + </p> + <p> + The engineer stopped short in his talk and absorbed Jack from his neatly + brushed hair, worn long at the back of his neck, to his well-shod feet, + and held out his hand. + </p> + <p> + “From Maryland? So am I; I was raised down in Prince George County. Glad + to know you. Are you any connection of the Breens of Ann Arundle?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir—all my people came from Ann Arundle. My father was Judge + Breen,” answered Jack with embarrassment. He had not yet become accustomed + to the novelty of the scene around him. + </p> + <p> + “Now I know just where you belong. My father and yours were friends. I + have often heard him speak of Judge Breen. And did you not meet my + daughter at Miss Grayson's the other day? She told me she had met a Mr. + Breen from our part of the country.” + </p> + <p> + Jack's eyes danced. Was this what Peter had invited him to the club for? + Now it was all clear. And then again he had not said a word about his + being in the Street, or connected with it in any way. Was there ever such + a good Peter? + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, sir!—and I hope she is very well.” + </p> + <p> + The engineer said she was extremely well, never better in her life, and + that he was delighted to meet a son of his old friend—then, turning + to the others, immediately forgot Jack's existence, and for the time being + his daughter, in the discussion still going on around him. + </p> + <p> + The young fellow settled himself in his seat and looked about him—at + the smoke-stained ceiling, the old portraits and quaint fittings and + furniture—more particularly at the men. He would have liked to talk + to Ruth's father a little longer, but he felt dazed and ill at ease—out + of his element, somehow—although he remembered the same kind of + people at his father's house, except that they wore different clothes. + </p> + <p> + But Peter did not leave him long in meditation. There were other surprises + for him upstairs, in the small dining-room opening out of the library, + where a long table was spread with eatables and drinkables—salads, + baby sausages, escaloped oysters, devilled crabs and other dishes dear to + old and new members. Here men were met standing in groups, their plates in + their hands, or seated at the smaller tables, when a siphon and a beer + bottle, or a mug of Bass would be added to their comfort. + </p> + <p> + It was there the Scribe met him for the second time, my first being the + Morris dinner, when he sat within speaking distance. I had heard of him, + of course, as Peter's new protege—indeed, the old fellow had talked + of nothing else, and so I was glad to renew the acquaintance. I found him + to be like all other young fellows of his class—I had lived among + his people, and knew—rather shy, with a certain deferential air + toward older people—but with the composure belonging to unconscious + youth—no fidgeting or fussing—modest, unassertive—his + big brown eyes under their heavy lashes studying everything about him, his + face brightening when you addressed him. I discovered, too, a certain + indefinable charm which won me to him at once. Perhaps it was his youth; + perhaps it was a certain honest directness, together with a total lack of + all affectation that appealed to me, but certain it is that not many + minutes had passed before I saw why Peter liked him, and I saw, too, why + he liked Peter. + </p> + <p> + When I asked him—we had found three empty seats at a table—what + impressed him most in the club, it being his first visit, he answered in + his simple, direct way, that he thought it was the note of good-fellowship + everywhere apparent, the men greeting each other as if they really meant + it. Another feature was the dress and faces of the members—especially + the authors, to whom Peter had introduced him, whose books he had read, + and whose personalities he had heard discussed, and who, to his + astonishment, had turned out to be shabby-looking old fellows who smoked + and drank, or played chess, like other ordinary mortals, and without + pretence of any kind so far as he could detect. + </p> + <p> + “Just like one big family, isn't it, Mr. Grayson?” the boy said. “Don't + you two gentlemen love to come here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “They don't look like very rich men.” + </p> + <p> + “They're not. Now and then a camel crawls through but it is a tight + squeeze,” remarked Peter arching his gray, bushy eyebrows, a smile + hovering about his lips. + </p> + <p> + The boy laughed: “Well, then, how did they get here?” + </p> + <p> + “Principally because they lead decent lives, are not puffed up with + conceit, have creative brains and put them to some honest use,” answered + Peter. + </p> + <p> + The boy looked away for a moment and remarked quietly that about everybody + he knew would fail in one or more of these qualifications. Then he added: + </p> + <p> + “And now tell me, Mr. Grayson, what most of them do—that gentleman, + for instance, who is talking to the old man in the velvet cap.” + </p> + <p> + “That is General Norton, one of our most distinguished engineers. He is + Consulting Engineer in the Croton Aqueduct Department, and his opinion is + sought all over the country. He started life as a tow-boy on the Erie + Canal, and when he was your age he was keeping tally of dump-cars from a + cut on the Pennsylvania Railroad.” + </p> + <p> + Jack looked at the General in wonderment, but he was too much interested + in the other persons about him to pursue the inquiry any further. + </p> + <p> + “And the man next to him—the one with his hand to his head?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't recall him, but the Major may.” + </p> + <p> + “That is Professor Hastings of Yale,” I replied—“perhaps the most + eminent chemist in this or any other country.” + </p> + <p> + “And what did he do when he was a boy?” asked young Breen. + </p> + <p> + “Made pills, I expect, and washed out test tubes and retorts,” interrupted + Peter, with a look on his face as if the poor professor were more to be + pitied than commended. + </p> + <p> + “Did any of them dig?” asked the boy. + </p> + <p> + “What kind of digging?” inquired Peter. + </p> + <p> + “Well, the kind you spoke of the night you came to see me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, with their hands?” cried Peter with a laugh. “Well, now, let me see—” + and his glance roved about the room. “There is Mr. Schlessinger, the + Egyptologist, but of course he was after mummies, not dirt; and then there + is—yes—that sun-burned young fellow of forty, talking to Mr. + Eastman Johnson; he has been at work in Yucatan looking for Toltec ruins, + because he told me his experience only a few nights ago; but then, of + course, that can hardly be said to be—Oh!—now I have it. You + see that tall man with side-whiskers, looking like a young bank president—my + kind—my boy—well, he started life with a pick and shovel. The + steel point of the pick if I remember rightly, turned up a nugget of gold + that made him rich, but he DUG all the same, and he may again some day—you + can't tell.” + </p> + <p> + It had all been a delightful experience for Jack and his face showed it, + but it was not until after I left that the story of why he had come late + was told. He had started several times to explain but the constant + interruption of members anxious to shake Peter's hand, had always + prevented. + </p> + <p> + “I haven't apologized for being late, sir,” Jack had said at last. “It was + long after ten, I am afraid, but I could not help it.” + </p> + <p> + “No; what was the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't get the letter until half an hour before I reached here.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I sent it to your uncle's house, and mailed it myself, just after + you had gone out with Miss MacFarlane.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; but I am not at my uncle's house any more. I am staying with + Garry Minott in his rooms; I have the sofa.” + </p> + <p> + Peter gave a low whistle. + </p> + <p> + “And you have given up your desk at the office as well?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Bless my soul, my boy! And what are you going to do now?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know; but I will not go on as I have been doing. I can't, Mr. + Grayson, and you must not ask it. I would rather sweep the streets. I have + just seen poor Charley Gilbert and Mrs. Gilbert. He has not a dollar in + the world, and is going West, he tells me.” + </p> + <p> + Peter reflected for a moment. It was all he could do to hide his delight. + </p> + <p> + “And what do your people say?” + </p> + <p> + “My aunt says I am an idiot, and Corinne won't speak to me.” + </p> + <p> + “And your uncle?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, to me. He told Garry that if I didn't come back in three days I + should never enter his house or his office again.” + </p> + <p> + “But you are going back? Are you not?” + </p> + <p> + “No,—never. Not if I starve!” + </p> + <p> + Peter's eyes were twinkling when he related the conversation to me the + next day. + </p> + <p> + “I could have hugged him, Major,” he said, when he finished, “and I would + if we had not been at the club.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII + </h2> + <p> + The Scribe is quite positive that had you only heard about it as he had, + even with the details elaborated, not only by Peter, who was conservatism + itself in his every statement, but by Miss Felicia as well—who + certainly ought to have known—you would not have believed it + possible until you had seen it. Even then you would have had to drop into + one of Miss Felicia's cretonne-upholstered chairs—big easy-chairs + that fitted into every hollow and bone in your back—looked the + length of the uneven porch, run your astonished eye down the damp, + water-soaked wooden steps to the moist brick pavement below, and so on to + the beds of crocuses blooming beneath the clustering palms and orange + trees, before you could realize (in spite of the drifting snow heaped up + on the door-steps of her house outside—some of it still on your + shoes) that you were in Miss Felicia's tropical garden, attached to Miss + Felicia's Geneseo house, and not in the back yard of some old home in the + far-off sunny South. + </p> + <p> + It was an old story, of course, to Peter, who had the easy-chair beside + me, and so it was to Morris, who had helped Miss Felicia carry out so + Utopian a scheme, but it had come to me as a complete surprise, and I was + still wide-eyed and incredulous. + </p> + <p> + “And what keeps out the cold?” I asked Morris, who was lying back blowing + rings into the summer night, the glow of an overhead lantern lighting up + his handsome face. + </p> + <p> + “Glass,” he laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Where?” + </p> + <p> + “There, just above the vines, my dear Major,” interrupted Miss Felicia, + pointing upward. “Come and let me show you my frog pond—” and away + we went along the brick paths, bordered with pots of flowers, to a tiny + lake covered with lily-pads and circled by water-plants. + </p> + <p> + “I did not want a greenhouse—I wanted a back yard,” she continued, + “and I just would have it. Holker sent his men up, and on three sides we + built a wall that looked a hundred years old—but it is not five—and + roofed it over with glass, and just where you see the little flight of + stairs is the heat. That old arbor in the corner has been here ever since + I was a child, and so have the syringa bushes and the green box next the + wall. I wanted them all the year round—not just for three or four + months in the year—and that witch Holker said he could do it, and he + has. Half the weddings in town have been begun right on that bench, and + when the lanterns are lighted and the fountain turned on outside, no + gentleman ever escapes. You and Peter are immune, so I sha'n't waste any + of my precious ammunition on you. And now what will you wear in your + button-hole—a gardenia, or some violets? Ruth will be down in a + minute, and you must look your prettiest.” + </p> + <p> + But if the frog pond, damp porch and old-fashioned garden had come as a + surprise, what shall I say of the rest of Miss Felicia's house which I am + now about to inspect under Peter's guidance. + </p> + <p> + “Here, come along,” he cried, slipping his arm through mine. “You have had + enough of the garden, for between you and me, my dear Major”—here he + looked askance at Miss Felicia—“I think it an admirable place in + which to take cold, and that's why—” and he passed his hand over his + scalp—“I always insist on wearing my hat when I walk here. Mere + question of imagination, perhaps, but old fellows like you and me should + take no chances—” and he laughed heartily. + </p> + <p> + “This room was my father's,” continued Peter. “The bookcases have still + some of the volumes he loved; he liked the low ceiling and the big + fireplace, and always wrote here—it was his library, really. There + opens the old drawing-room and next to it is Felicia's den, where she + concocts most of her deviltry, and the dining-room beyond—and that's + all there is on this floor, except the kitchen, which you'll hear from + later.” + </p> + <p> + And as Peter rattled on, telling me the history of this and that piece of + old furniture, or portrait, or queer clock, my eyes were absorbing the air + of cosey comfort that permeated every corner of the several rooms. + Everything had the air of being used. In the library the chairs were of + leather, stretched into saggy folds by many tired backs; the wide, high + fender fronting the hearth, though polished so that you could see your + face in it, showed the marks of many a drying shoe, while on the bricks + framing the fireplace could still be seen the scratchings of countless + matches. + </p> + <p> + The drawing-room, too—although, as in all houses of its class and + period, a thing of gilt frames, high mirrors and stiff furniture—was + softened by heaps of cushions, low stools and soothing arm-chairs, while + Miss Felicia's own particular room was so veritable a symphony in chintz, + white paint and old mahogany, with cubby-holes crammed with knickknacks, + its walls hung with rare etchings; pots of flowers everywhere and the + shelves and mantels crowded with photographs of princes, ambassadors, + grand dukes, grand ladies, flossy-headed children, chubby-cheeked babies + (all souvenirs of her varied and busy life), that it was some minutes + before I could throw myself into one of her heavenly arm-chairs, there to + be rested as I had never been before, and never expect to be again. + </p> + <p> + It being Peter's winter holiday, he and Morris had stopped over on their + way down from Buffalo, where Holker had spoken at a public dinner. The + other present and expected guests were Ruth MacFarlane, who was already + upstairs; her father, Henry MacFarlane, who was to arrive by the next + train, and last and by no means lest, his confidential clerk, Mr. John + Breen, now two years older and, it is to be hoped, with considerable more + common-sense than when he chucked himself neck and heels out into the cold + world. Whether the expected arrival of this young gentleman had anything + to do with the length of time it took Ruth to dress, the Scribe knoweth + not. There is no counting upon the whims and vagaries of even the average + young woman of the day, and as Ruth was a long way above that medium + grade, and with positive ideas of her own as to whom she liked and whom + she did not like, and was, besides, a most discreet and close-mouthed + young person, it will be just as well for us to watch the game of + battledoor and shuttlecock still being played between Jack and herself, + before we arrive at any fixed conclusions. + </p> + <p> + Any known and admitted facts connected with either one of the contestants + are, however, in order, and so while we are waiting for old Moggins, who + drives the village 'bus, and who has been charged by Miss Felicia on no + account to omit bringing in his next load a certain straight, + bronzed-cheeked, well-set-up young man with a springy step, accompanied by + a middle-aged gentleman who looked like a soldier, and deliver them both + with their attendant baggage at her snow-banked door, any data regarding + this same young man's movements since the night Peter wanted to hug him + for leaving his uncle's service, cannot fail to be of interest. + </p> + <p> + To begin then with the day on which Jack, with Frederick, the second man's + assistance, packed his belongings and accepted Garry's invitation to make + a bed of his lounge. + </p> + <p> + The kind-hearted Frederick knew what it was to lose a place, and so his + sympathies had been all the more keen. Parkins's nose, on the contrary, + had risen a full degree and stood at an angle of 45 degrees, for he had + not only heard the ultimatum of his employer, but was rather pleased with + the result. As for the others, no one ever believed the boy really meant + it, and everybody—even the maids and the high-priced chef—fully + expected Jack would turn prodigal as soon as his diet of husks had whetted + his appetite for dishes more nourishing and more toothsome. But no one of + them took account of the quality of the blood that ran in the young man's + veins. + </p> + <p> + It was scheming Peter who saved the day. + </p> + <p> + “Put that young fellow to work, Henry,” he had said to MacFarlane the + morning after the three had met at the Century Club. + </p> + <p> + “What does he know, Peter?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, except to speak the truth.” + </p> + <p> + And thus it had come to pass that within twenty-four hours thereafter the + boy had shaken the dust of New York from his feet—even to resigning + from the Magnolia, and a day later was found bending over a pine desk + knocked together by a hammer and some ten-penny nails in a six-by-nine + shanty, the whole situated at the mouth of a tunnel half a mile from + Corklesville, where he was at work on the pay-roll of the preceding week. + </p> + <p> + Many things had helped in deciding him to take the proffered place. First, + Peter had wanted it; second, his uncle did not want it, Corinne and his + aunt being furious that he should go to work like a common laborer, or—as + Garry had put it—“a shovel-spanked dago.” Third, Ruth was within + calling distance, and that in itself meant Heaven. Once installed, + however, he had risen steadily, both in MacFarlane's estimation and in the + estimation of his fellow-workers; especially the young engineers who were + helping his Chief in the difficult task before him. Other important + changes had also taken place in the two years: his body had strengthened, + his face had grown graver, his views of life had broadened and, best of + all, his mind was at rest. Of one thing he was sure—no confiding + young Gilberts would be fleeced in his present occupation—not if he + knew anything about it. + </p> + <p> + Moreover, the outdoor life which he had so longed for was his again. On + Saturday afternoons and Sundays he tramped the hills, or spent hours + rowing on the river. His employer's villa was also always open to him—a + privilege not granted to the others in the working force. The old tie of + family was the sesame. Judge Breen's son was, both by blood and training, + the social equal of any man, and although the distinguished engineer, + being well born himself, seldom set store on such things, he recognized + his obligation in Jack's case and sought the first opportunity to tell him + so. + </p> + <p> + “You will find a great change in your surroundings, Mr. Breen,” he had + said. “The little hotel where you will have to put up is rather rough and + uncomfortable, but you are always welcome at my home, and this I mean, and + I hope you will understand it that way without my mentioning it again.” + </p> + <p> + The boy's heart leaped to his throat as he listened, and a dozen + additional times that day his eyes had rested on the clump of trees which + shaded the roof sheltering Ruth. + </p> + <p> + That the exclusive Miss Grayson should now have invited him to pass some + days at her home had brought with it a thrill of greater delight. Her + opinion of the boy had changed somewhat. His willingness to put up with + the discomforts of the village inn—“a truly dreadful place,” to + quote one of Miss Felicia's own letters—and to continue to put up + with them for more than two years, while losing nothing of his good-humor + and good manners, had shaken her belief in the troubadour and tin-armor + theory, although nothing in Jack's surroundings or in his prospects for + the future fitted him, so far as she could see, to life companionship with + so dear a girl as her beloved Ruth—a view which, of course, she kept + strictly to herself. + </p> + <p> + But she still continued to criticise him, at which Peter would rub his + hands and break out with: + </p> + <p> + “Fine fellow!—square peg in a square hole this time. Fine fellow, I + tell you, Felicia!” + </p> + <p> + He receiving in reply some such answer as: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, quite lovely in fairy tales, Peter, and when you have taught him—for + you did it, remember—how to shovel and clean up underbrush and split + rocks—and that just's what Ruth told me he was doing when she took a + telegram to her father which had come to the house—and he in a pair + of overalls, like any common workman—what, may I ask, will you have + him doing next? Is he to be an engineer or a clerk all his life? He might + have had a share in his uncle's business by this time if he had had any + common-sense;” Peter retorting often with but a broad smile and that + little gulp of satisfaction—something between a chuckle and a sigh—which + always escaped him when some one of his proteges were living up to his pet + theories. + </p> + <p> + And yet it was Miss Felicia herself who was the first to welcome the + reprobate, even going to the front door and standing in the icy draught, + with the snowflakes whirling about her pompadoured head, until Jack had + alighted from the tail-end of Moggins's 'bus and, with his satchel in his + hand, had cleared the sidewalk with a bound and stood beside her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I'm so glad to be here,” Jack had begun, “and it was so good of you + to want me,” when a voice rang clear from the top of the stairs: + </p> + <p> + “And where's daddy—isn't he coming?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!—how do you do, Miss Ruth? No; I am sorry to say he could not + leave—that is, we could not persuade him to leave. He sent you all + manner of messages, and you, too, Miss—” + </p> + <p> + “He isn't coming? Oh, I am so disappointed! What is the matter, is he + ill?” She was half-way down the staircase now, her face showing how keen + was her disappointment. + </p> + <p> + “No—nothing's the matter—only we are arranging for an + important blast in a day or two, and he felt he couldn't be away. I can + only stay the night.” Jack had his overcoat stripped from his broad + shoulders now and the two had reached each other's hands. + </p> + <p> + Miss Felicia watched them narrowly out of her sharp, kindly eyes. This + love-affair—if it were a love-affair—had been going on for + years now and she was still in the dark as to the outcome. There was no + question that the boy was head over heels in love with the girl—she + could see that from the way the color mounted to his cheeks when Ruth's + voice rang out, and the joy in his eyes when they looked into hers. How + Ruth felt toward her new guest was what she wanted to know. This was, + perhaps, the only reason why she had invited him—another thing she + kept strictly to herself. + </p> + <p> + But the two understood it—if Miss Felicia did not. There may be + shrewd old ladies who can read minds at a glance, and fussy old men who + can see through blind millstones, and who know it all, but give me two + lovers to fool them both to the top of their bent, be they so minded. + </p> + <p> + “And now, dear, let Mr. Breen go to his room, for we dine in an hour, and + Holker will be cross as two sticks if we keep it waiting a minute.” + </p> + <p> + But Holker was not cross—not when dinner was served; nobody was + cross—certainly not Peter, who was in his gayest mood; and certainly + not Ruth or Jack, who babbled away next to each other. Peter's heart + swelled with pride and satisfaction as he saw the change which two years + of hard work had made in Jack—not only in his bearing and in a + certain fearless independence which had become a part of his personality, + but in the unmistakable note of joyousness which flowed out of him, so + marked in contrast to the depression which used to haunt him like a + spectre. Stories of his life at his boarding-house—vaguely + christened a hotel by its landlady, Mrs. Hicks—bubbled out of the + boy as well as accounts of various escapades among the men he worked with—especially + the younger engineers and one of the foremen who had rooms next his own—all + told with a gusto and ring that kept the table in shouts of merriment—Morris + laughing loudest and longest, Peter whispering behind his hand to Miss + Felicia: + </p> + <p> + “Charming, isn't he?—and please note, my dear, that none of the dirt + from his shovel seems to have clogged his wit—” at which there was + another merry laugh—Peter's, this time, his being the only voice in + evidence. + </p> + <p> + “And she is such fun, Miss Felicia” (Mrs. Hicks was under discussion), + called out Jack, realizing that he had, perhaps—although + unconsciously—failed to include his hostess in his coterie of + listeners. “You should see her caps, and the magnificent airs she puts on + when we come down late to breakfast on Sunday mornings.” + </p> + <p> + “And tell them about the potatoes,” interrupted Ruth. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that was disgraceful, but it really could not be helped—we had + greasy fried potatoes until we could not stand them another day, and + Bolton found them in the kitchen late one night ready for the skillet the + next morning, and filled them with tooth powder, and that ended it.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd have set you fellows out on the sidewalk if I'd been Mrs. Hicks,” + laughed Morris. “I know that old lady—I used to stop with her myself + when I was building the town hall—and she's good as gold. And now + tell me how MacFarlane is getting on—building a railroad, isn't he? + He told me about it, but I forget.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Jack, his face growing suddenly serious as he turned toward + the speaker; “the company is building the road. We have only got a fill of + half a mile and then a tunnel of a mile more.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Felicia beamed sententiously when Jack said “we,” but she did not + interrupt the speaker. + </p> + <p> + “And what sort of cutting?” continued the architect in a tone that showed + his entire familiarity with work of the kind. + </p> + <p> + “Gneiss rock for eleven hundred feet and then some mica schist that we + have had to shore up every time we move our drills,” answered Jack + quietly. + </p> + <p> + “Any cave-ins?” Morris was leaning forward now, his eyes riveted on the + boy's. What information he wanted he felt sure he now could get. + </p> + <p> + “Not yet, but plenty of water. We struck a spring last week” (this time + the “we” didn't seem so preposterous) “that came near drowning us out, but + we managed to keep it under with a six-inch centrifugal; but it meant + pumping night and day.” + </p> + <p> + “And when is he going to get through?” + </p> + <p> + “That depends on what is ahead of us. Our borings show up all right—most + of it is tough gneiss—but if we strike gravel or shale again it + means more timbering, of course. Perhaps another year—perhaps a few + months. I am not giving you my own opinion, for I've had very little + experience, but that is what Bolton thinks—he's second in command + next to Mr. MacFarlane—and so do the other fellows at our boarding + house.” + </p> + <p> + And then followed a discussion on “struts,” roof timbers and tie-rods, + Jack describing in a modest, impersonal way the various methods used by + the members of the staff with which he was connected, Morris, as usual, + becoming so absorbed in the warding off of “cave-ins” that for the moment + he forgot the table, his hostess and everybody about him, a situation + which, while it delighted Peter, who was bursting with pride over Jack, + was beginning to wear upon Miss Felicia, who was entirely indifferent as + to whether the top covering of MacFarlane's underground hole fell in or + not. + </p> + <p> + “There, now, Holker,” she said with a smile as she laid her hand on his + coat sleeve—“not another word. Tunnels are things everybody wants to + get through with as quick as possible—and I'm not going to spend all + night in yours—awful damp places full of smoke—No—not + another word. Ruth, ask that young Roebling next you to tell us another + story—No, wait until we have our coffee and you gentlemen have + lighted your cigars. Perhaps, Ruth, you had better take Mr. Breen into the + smoking-room. Now, give me your arm, Holker, and you come, too, Major, and + bring Peter with you to my boudoir. I want to show you the most delicious + copy of Shelley you ever saw. No, Mr. Breen, Ruth wants you; we will be + with you in a few minutes—” Then after the two had passed on ahead—“Look + at them, Major—aren't they a joy, just to watch?—and aren't + you ashamed of yourself that you have wasted your life? No arbor for you! + What would you give if a lovely girl like that wanted you all to herself + by the side of my frog pond?” + </p> + <p> + A shout ahead from Jack, and a rippling laugh from Ruth now floated our + way. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!—OH!—” and “Yes—isn't it wonderful—come and + see the arbor—” and then a clatter of feet down the soggy steps and + fainter footfalls on the moist bricks, ending in silence. + </p> + <p> + “There!” laughed Miss Felicia, turning toward us and clapping her hands—“they + have reached the arbor and it's all over, and now we will all go out on + the porch for our coffee. I haven't any Shelley that you have not seen a + dozen times—I just intended that surprise to come to the boy and in + the way Ruth wanted it—she has talked of nothing else since she knew + he was coming. Mighty dangerous, I can tell you, that old bench. Ruth can + take care of herself, but that poor fellow will be in a dreadful state if + we leave them alone too long. Sit here, Holker, and tell me about the + dinner and what you said. All that Peter could remember was that you never + did better, and that everybody cheered, and that the squabs were so dry he + couldn't eat them.” + </p> + <p> + But the Scribe refuses to be interested in Holker's talk, however + brilliant, or in Miss Felicia's crisp repartee. His thoughts are down + among the palms, where the two figures are entering the arbor, the soft + glow of half a dozen lanterns falling upon the joyous face of the + beautiful girl, as, with hand in Jack's, she leads him to a seat beside + her on the bench. + </p> + <p> + “But it's like home,” Jack gasped. “Why, you must remember your own + garden, and the porch that ran alongside of the kitchen, and the brick + walls—and just see how big it is and you never told me a word about + it! Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, because it would have spoiled all the fun; I was so afraid daddy + would tell you that I made him promise not to say a word; and nobody else + had seen it except Mr. Morris, and he said torture couldn't drag it out of + him. That old Major that Uncle Peter thinks so much of came near spoiling + the surprise, but Aunt Felicia said she would take care of him in the back + of the house—and she did; and I mounted guard at the top of the + stairs before anybody could get hold of you. Isn't it too lovely?—and, + do you know, there are real live frogs in that pond and you can hear them + croak? And now tell me about daddy, and how he gets on without me.” + </p> + <p> + But Jack was not ready yet to talk about daddy, or the work, or anything + that concerned Corklesville and its tunnel—the transition had been + too sudden and too startling. To be fired from a gun loaded with care, + hard work and anxiety—hurled through hours of winter travel and + landed at a dinner-table next some charming young woman, was an experience + which had occurred to him more than once in the past two years. But to be + thrust still further into space until he reached an Elysium replete with + whispering fountains, flowering vines and the perfume of countless + blossoms—the whole tucked away in a cosey arbor containing a seat + for two—AND NO MORE—and this millions of miles away, so far as + he could see, from the listening ear or watchful eye of mortal man or + woman—and with Ruth, too—the tips of whose fingers were so + many little shrines for devout kisses—that was like having been + transported into Paradise. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, please let me look around a little,” he begged at last. “And this is + why you love to come here?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—wouldn't you?” + </p> + <p> + “I would not live anywhere else if I could—and it has just the air + of summer—and it feels like a summer's night, too—as if the + moon was coming up somewhere.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth's delight equalled his own; she must show him the new tulips just + sprouting, taking down a lantern so that he could see the better; and he + must see how the jessamine was twisted in and out the criss-cross slats of + the trellis, so that the flowers bloomed both outside and in; and the + little gully in the flagging of the pavement through which ran the + overflow of the tiny pond—till the circuit of the garden was made + and they were again seated on the dangerous bench, with a cushion tucked + behind her beautiful shoulders. + </p> + <p> + They talked of the tunnel and when it would be finished; and of the + village people and whom they liked and whom they didn't—and why—and + of Corinne, whose upturned little nose and superior, dominating airs Ruth + thought were too funny for words; and of her recently announced engagement + to Garry Minott, who had started for himself in business and already had a + commission to build a church at Elm Crest—known to all New Jersey as + Corklesville until the real-estate agencies took possession of its uplands—Jack + being instrumental, with Mr. MacFarlane's help, in securing him the order; + and of the dinner to be given next week at Mrs. Brent Foster's on + Washington Square, to which they were both invited, thanks to Miss Felicia + for Ruth's invitation, and thanks to Peter for that of Jack, who, at + Peter's request, had accompanied him one afternoon to one of Mrs. Foster's + receptions, where he had made so favorable an impression that he was at + once added to Mrs. Foster's list of eligible young men—the same + being a scarce article. They had discussed, I say, all these things and + many more, in sentences, the Scribe devoutly hopes, much shorter than the + one he has just written—when in a casual—oh, so casual a way—merely + as a matter of form—Ruth asked him if he really must go back to + Corklesville in the morning. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Jack—“there is no one to take charge of the new + battery but myself, and we have ten holes already filled for blasting.” + </p> + <p> + “But isn't it only to put the two wires together? Daddy explained it to + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—but at just the right moment. Half a minute too early might + ruin weeks of work. We have some supports to blow out. Three charges are + at their bases—everything must go off together.” + </p> + <p> + “But it is such a short visit.” + </p> + <p> + Some note in her voice rang through Jack's ears and down into his heart. + In all their intercourse—and it had been a free and untrammelled one + so far as their meetings and being together were concerned—there was + invariably a barrier which he could never pass, and one that he was always + afraid to scale. This time her face was toward him, the rosy light bathing + her glorious hair and the round of her dimpled cheek. For an instant a + half-regretful smile quivered on her lips, and then faded as if some + indrawn sigh had strangled it. + </p> + <p> + Jack's heart gave a bound. + </p> + <p> + “Are you really sorry to have me go, Miss Ruth?” he asked, searching her + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Why should I not be? Is not this better than Mrs. Hicks's, and Aunt + Felicia would love to have you stay—she told me so at dinner.” + </p> + <p> + “But you, Miss Ruth?” He had moved a trifle closer—so close that his + eager fingers almost touched her own: “Do you want me to stay?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, of course, we all want you to stay. Uncle Peter has talked of + nothing else for days.” + </p> + <p> + “But do you want me to stay, Miss Ruth?” + </p> + <p> + She lifted her head and looked him fearlessly in the eyes: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do—now that you will have it that way. We are going to have + a sleigh-ride to-morrow, and I know you would love the open country, it is + so beautiful, and so is—” + </p> + <p> + “Ruth! Ruth! you dear child,” came a voice—“are you two never coming + in?—the coffee is stone cold.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Aunt Felicia, right away. Run, Mr. Breen—” and she flew up the + brick path. + </p> + <p> + For the second time Miss Felicia's keen, kindly eyes scanned the young + girl's face, but only a laugh, the best and surest of masks, greeted her. + </p> + <p> + “He thinks it all lovely,” Ruth rippled out. “Don't you, Mr. Breen?” + </p> + <p> + “Lovely? Why, it is the most wonderful place I ever saw; I could hardly + believe my senses. I am quite sure old Aunt Hannah is cooking behind that + door—” here he pointed to the kitchen—“and that poor old Tom + will come hobbling along in a minute with 'dat mis'ry' in his back. How in + the world you ever did it, and what—” + </p> + <p> + “And did you hear my frogs?” interrupted his hostess. + </p> + <p> + “Of course he didn't, Felicia,” broke in Peter. “What a question to ask a + man! Listen to the croakings of your miserable tadpoles with the prettiest + girl in seven counties—in seven States, for that matter—sitting + beside him! Oh!—you needn't look, you minx! If he heard a single + croak he ought to be ducked in the puddle—and then packed off home + soaking wet.” + </p> + <p> + “And that is what he is going to do himself,” rejoined Ruth, dropping into + a chair which Peter had drawn up for her. + </p> + <p> + “Do what!” cried Peter. + </p> + <p> + “Pack himself off—going by the early train—nothing I can do or + say has made the slightest impression on him,” she said with a toss of her + head. + </p> + <p> + Jack raised his hands in protest, but Peter wouldn't listen. + </p> + <p> + “Then you'll come back, sir, on Saturday and stay until Monday, and then + we'll all go down together and you'll take Ruth across the ferry to her + father's. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, sir, but I am afraid I can't. You see, it all depends on the + work—” this last came with a certain tone of regret. + </p> + <p> + “But I'll send MacFarlane a note, and have you detailed as an escort of + one to bring his only daughter——” + </p> + <p> + “It would not do any good, Mr. Grayson.” + </p> + <p> + “Stop your nonsense, Jack—” Peter called him so now—“You come + back for Sunday.” These days with the boy were the pleasantest of his + life. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I would love to—” Here his eyes sought, Ruth—“but we + have an important blast to make, and we are doing our best to get things + into shape before the week is out.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but suppose it isn't ready?” demanded Peter. + </p> + <p> + “But it will be,” answered Jack in a more positive tone; this part of the + work was in his hands. + </p> + <p> + “Well, anyhow, send me a telegram.” + </p> + <p> + “I will send it, sir, but I am afraid it won't help matters. Miss Ruth + knows how delighted I would be to return here and see her safe home.” + </p> + <p> + “Whether she does or whether she doesn't,” broke in Miss Felicia, “hasn't + got a single thing to do with it, Peter. You just go back to your work, + Mr. Breen, and look after your gunpowder plots, or whatever you call them, + and if some one of these gentlemen of elegant leisure—not one of + whom so far has offered his services—cannot manage to escort you to + your father's house, Ruth, I will take you myself. Now come inside the + drawing-room, every one of you, or you will all blame me for undermining + your precious healths—you, too, Major, and bring your cigars with + you. So you don't drop your ashes into my tea-caddy, I don't care where + you throw them.” + </p> + <p> + It was late in the afternoon of the second day when the telegram arrived, + a delay which caused no apparent suffering to any one except, perhaps, + Peter, who wandered about with a “Nothing from Jack yet, eh?” A question + which no one answered, it being addressed to nobody in particular, unless + it was to Ruth, who had started at every ring of the door-bell. As to Miss + Felicia—she had already dismissed the young man from her mind. + </p> + <p> + When it did arrive there was a slight flutter of interest, but nothing + more; Miss Felicia laying down her book, Ruth asking in indifferent tones—even + before the despatch was opened—“Is he coming?” and Morris, who was + playing chess with Peter, holding his pawn in mid-air until the + interruption was over. + </p> + <p> + Not so Peter—who with a joyous “Didn't I tell you the boy would keep + his promise—” sprang from his chair, nearly upsetting the + chess-board in his eagerness to hear from Jack, an eagerness shared by + Ruth, whose voice again rang out, this time in an anxious tone, + </p> + <p> + “Hurry up, Uncle Peter—is he coming?” + </p> + <p> + Peter made no answer; he was staring straight at the open slip, his face + deathly pale, his hand trembling. + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you all about it in a minute, dear,” he said at last with a + forced smile. Then he touched Morris's arm and the two left the room. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV + </h2> + <p> + The Scribe would willingly omit this chapter. Dying men, hurrying doctors, + improvised stretchers made of wrenched fence rails; silent, slow-moving + throngs following limp, bruised bodies,—are not pleasant objects to + write about and should be disposed of as quickly as possible. + </p> + <p> + Exactly whose fault it was nobody knew; if any one did, no one ever told. + Every precaution had been taken each charge had been properly placed and + tamped; all the fulminates inspected and the connections made with the + greatest care. As to the battery—that was known to be half a mile + away in the pay shanty, lying on Jack Breen's table. + </p> + <p> + Nor was the weather unfavorable. True, there had been rain the day before, + starting a general thaw, but none of the downpour had soaked through the + outer crust of the tunnel to the working force inside and no extra labor + had devolved on the pumps. This, of course, upset all theories as to there + having been a readjustment of surface rock, dangerous sometimes, to + magnetic connections. + </p> + <p> + Then again, no man understood tunnel construction better than Henry + MacFarlane, C.E., Member of the American Society of Engineers, Fellow of + the Institute of Sciences, etc., etc. Nor was there ever an engineer more + careful of his men. Indeed, it was his boast that he had never lost a life + by a premature discharge in the twenty years of his experience. Nor did + the men, those who worked under him—those who escaped alive—come + to any definite conclusion as to the cause of the catastrophe: the night + and day gang, I mean,—those who breathed the foul air, who had felt + the chill of the clammy interior and who were therefore familiar with the + handling of explosives and the proper tamping of the charges—a slip + of the steel meaning instantaneous annihilation. + </p> + <p> + The Beast knew and could tell if he chose. + </p> + <p> + I say “The Beast,” for that is what MacFarlane's tunnel was to me. To the + passer-by and to the expert, it was, of course, merely a short cut through + the steep hills flanking one end of the huge “earth fill” which MacFarlane + was constructing across the Corklesville brook, and which, when completed + would form a road-bed for future trains; but to me it was always The + Beast. + </p> + <p> + This illusion was helped by its low-browed, rocky head, crouching close to + the end of the “fill,” its length concealed in the clefts of the rocks—as + if lying in wait for whatever crossed its path—as well as its + ragged, half-round, catfish gash of a mouth from out of which poured at + regular intervals a sickening breath—yellow, blue, greenish often—and + from which, too, often came dulled explosions, followed by belchings of + debris which centipedes of cars dragged clear of its slimy lips. + </p> + <p> + So I reiterate, The Beast knew. + </p> + <p> + Every day the gang had bored and pounded and wrenched, piercing his body + with nervous, nagging drills; propping up his backbone, cutting out tender + bits of flesh, carving—bracing—only to carve again. He had + tried to wriggle and twist, but the mountain had held him fast. Once he + had straightened out, smashing the tiny cars and the tugging locomotive; + breaking a leg and an arm, and once a head, but the devils had begun + again, boring and digging and the cruel wound was opened afresh. Another + time, after a big rain, with the help of some friendly rocks who had + rushed down to his help, he had snapped his jaws tight shut, penning the + devils up inside, but a hundred others had wrenched them open, breaking + his teeth, shoring up his lips with iron beams, tearing out what was left + of his tongue. He could only sulk now, breathing hard and grunting when + the pain was unbearable. One thought comforted him, and one only: Far back + in his bulk he knew of a thin place in his hide,—so thin, owing to a + dip in the contour of the hill,—that but a few yards of overlying + rock and earth lay between it and the free air. + </p> + <p> + Here his tormentors had stopped; why, he could not tell until he began to + keep tally of what had passed his mouth: The long trains of cars had + ceased; so had the snorting locomotives; so had the steam drills. + Curious-looking boxes and kegs were being passed in, none of which ever + came back; men with rolls of paper on which were zigzag markings stumbled + inside, stayed an hour and stumbled out again; these men wore no lamps in + their hats and were better dressed than the others. Then a huge wooden + drum wrapped with wire was left overnight outside his lips and unrolled + the next morning, every yard of it being stretched so far down his throat + that he lost all track of it. + </p> + <p> + On the following morning work of every kind ceased; not a man with a lamp + anywhere—and these The Beast hated most; that is, none that he could + see or feel. After an hour or more the head man arrived and with two + others went inside. The head man was tall and fair, had gray side whiskers + and wore a slouch hat; the second man was straight and well built, with a + boyish face tanned by the weather. The third man was short and fat: this + one carried a plan. Behind the three walked five other men. + </p> + <p> + All were talking. + </p> + <p> + “The dip is to the eastward,” the head man said. “The uplift ought to + clear things so we won't have to handle the stuff twice. Hard to rig + derricks on that slope. Let's have powder enough, anyhow, Bolton.” + </p> + <p> + The fat man nodded and consulted his plan with the help of his + eye-glasses. Then the three men and the five men passed in out of hearing. + </p> + <p> + The Beast was sure now. The men were going to blow out the side of the + hill where his hide was thinnest so as to make room for an air-shaft. + </p> + <p> + An hour later a gang in charge of a red-shirted foreman who were shifting + a section of toy track on the “fill” felt the earth shake under them. Then + came a dull roar followed by a cloud of yellow smoke mounting skyward from + an opening high up on the hillside. Flashing through this cloud leaped + tongues of flame intermingled with rocks and splintered trees. From the + tunnel's mouth streamed a thin, steel-colored gas that licked its way + along the upper edges of the opening and was lost in the underbrush + fringing its upper lip. + </p> + <p> + “What's that?” muttered the red-shirted foreman—“that ain't no blast—My + God!—they're blowed up!” + </p> + <p> + He sprang on a car and waved his arms with all his might: “Drop them + shovels! Git to the tunnel, every man of ye: here,—this way!” and he + plunged on, the men scrambling after him. + </p> + <p> + The Beast was a magnet now, drawing everything to its mouth. Gangs of men + swarmed up the side of the hill; stumbling, falling; picking themselves up + only to stumble and fall again. Down the railroad tracks swept a repair + squad who had been straightening a switch, their foreman in the lead. From + out of the cabins bareheaded women and children ran screaming. + </p> + <p> + The end of the “fill” nearest the tunnel was now black with people; those + nearest to the opening were shielding their faces from the deadly gas. The + roar of voices was incessant; some shouted from sheer excitement; others + broke into curses, shaking their fists at The Beast; blaming the + management. All about stood shivering women with white faces, some chewing + the corners of their shawls in their agony. + </p> + <p> + Then a cry clearer than the others soared above the heads of the + terror-stricken mob as a rescue gang made ready to enter the tunnel: + </p> + <p> + “Water! Water! Get a bucket, some of ye! Ye can't live in that smoke yet! + Tie your mouth up if you're going in! Wet it, damn ye!—do ye want to + be choked stiff!” + </p> + <p> + A shrill voice now cut the air. + </p> + <p> + “It's the boss and the clerk and Mr. Bolton that's catched!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—and a gang from the big shanty; I seen 'em goin' in,” shouted + back the red-shirted foreman. + </p> + <p> + The volunteers—big, brawny men, who, warned by the foreman, had been + binding wet cloths over their mouths, now sprang forward, peering into the + gloom. Then the sound of footsteps was heard—nearer—nearer. + Groping through the blue haze stumbled a man, his shirt sleeve shielding + his mouth. On he came, staggering from side to side, reached the edge of + the mouth and pitched head-foremost as the fresh air filled his lungs. A + dozen hands dragged him clear. It was Bolton. + </p> + <p> + His clothes were torn and scorched; his face blackened; his left hand + dripping blood. Two of the shanty gang were next hauled out and laid on + the back of an overturned dirt car. They had been near the mouth when the + explosion came, and throwing themselves flat had crawled toward the + opening. + </p> + <p> + Bolton was still unconscious, but the two shanty men gasped out the + terrible facts: “The boss and the clerk, was jes' starting out when + everything let go”; they choked; “ther' ain't nothing left of the other + men. We passed the boss and the clerk; they was blowed agin a car; the + boss was stove up, the clerk was crawlin' toward him. They'll never git + out alive: none on 'em. We fellers was jes' givin' up when we see the + daylight and heared you a-yellin'.” + </p> + <p> + A hush now fell on the mass of people, broken by the piercing shriek of a + woman,—the wife of a shanty man. She would have rushed in had not + some one held her. + </p> + <p> + Bolton sat up, gazing stupidly about him. Part of the story of the escaped + men had reached his ears. He struggled to his feet and staggerd toward the + opening of the tunnel. The red-shirted foreman caught him under the + armpits and whirled him back. + </p> + <p> + “That ain't no place for you!” he cried—“I'll go!” + </p> + <p> + A muffled cry was heard. It came from a bystander lying flat on his belly + inside the mouth: he had crawled in as far as he could. + </p> + <p> + “Here they come!” + </p> + <p> + New footfalls grew distinct, whether one or more the listeners could not + make out. Under the shouts of the red-shirted foreman to give them air, + the throng fell back. + </p> + <p> + Out of the grimy smoke two figures slowly loomed up; one carried the other + on his back; whether shanty men or not, no one could tell. + </p> + <p> + The crowd, no longer controlled by the foreman, surged about the opening. + Ready hands were held out, but the man carrying his comrade waved them + aside and staggered on, one hand steadying his load, the other hanging + loose. The big foreman started to rush in, but stopped. Something in the + burdened man's eye had checked him, it was as if a team were straining up + a steep hill, making any halt fatal. + </p> + <p> + “It's the boss and the clerk!” shouted the foreman. “Fall back, men,—fall + back, damn ye!” + </p> + <p> + The man came straight on, reached the lips of the opening, lunged heavily + to the right, tried to steady his burden and fell headlong. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV + </h2> + <p> + The street lamps were already lighted on the following afternoon—when + Ruth, with Peter and Miss Felicia, alighted at the small station of + Corklesville. All through the day she had gone over in her mind the words + of the despatch: + </p> + <p> + Explosion in tunnel. MacFarlane hurt—serious—will recover. + Break news gently to daughter. + </p> + <p> + Bolton Asst. Engineer + </p> + <p> + Other despatches had met the party on the way down; one saying, “No + change,” signed by the trained nurse, and a second one from Bolton in + answer to one of Peter's: “Three men killed—others escaped. + MacFarlane's operation successful. Explosion premature.” + </p> + <p> + Their anxiety only increased: Why hadn't Jack telegraphed? Why leave it to + Bolton? Why was there no word of him,—and yet how could Bolton have + known that Peter was with Ruth, except from young Breen. In this mortal + terror Peter had wired from Albany: “Is Breen hurt?” but no answer had + been received at Poughkeepsie. There had not been time for it, perhaps, + but still there was no answer, nor had his name been mentioned in any of + the other telegrams. That in itself was ominous. + </p> + <p> + This same question Ruth had asked herself a dozen times. Jack was to have + had charge of the battery—he had told her so. Was he one of the + killed?—why didn't somebody tell her?—why hadn't Mr. Bolton + said something?—why—why—Then the picture of her father's + mangled body would rise before her and all thought of Jack pass out of her + mind. + </p> + <p> + As the train rolled into the grimy station she was the first to spring + from the car; she knew the way best, and the short cut from the station to + where her father lay. Her face was drawn; her eyes bloodshot from + restrained tears—all the color gone from her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “You bring Aunt Felicia, Uncle Peter,—and the bags;—I will go + ahead,” she said, tying her veil so as to shield her face. “No, I won't + wait for anything.” + </p> + <p> + News of Ruth's expected arrival had reached the village, and the crowd at + the station had increased. On its inner circle, close to a gate leading + from the platform, stood a young man in a slouch hat, with his left wrist + bandaged. The arm had hung in a sling until the train rolled in, then the + silk support had been slipped and hidden in his pocket. Under the slouch + hat, the white edge of a bandage was visible which the wearer vainly tried + to conceal by pulling the hat further on his head,—this subterfuge + also concealed a dark scar on his temple. Whenever the young man pressed + closer to the gate, the crowd would fall back as if to give him room. Now + and then one would come up, grab his well hand and pat his shoulder + approvingly. He seemed to be as much an object of interest as the daughter + of the injured boss. + </p> + <p> + When Ruth gained the gate the wounded man laid his fingers on her gloved + wrist. The girl started back, peered into his face, and uttered a cry of + relief. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Breen!” For one wild moment a spirit of overwhelming joy welled up in + her heart and shone out of her eyes. Thank God he was not dead! + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Miss Ruth,—what is left of me. I wanted to see you as soon as + you reached here. You must not be alarmed about your father.” The voice + did not sound like Jack's. + </p> + <p> + “Is he worse? Tell me quick!” she exclaimed, the old fear confronting her. + </p> + <p> + “No. He is all right,” he wheezed, “and is going to get well. His left arm + is broken and his head badly cut, but he is out of danger. The doctor told + me so an hour ago.” + </p> + <p> + “And you?” she pleaded, clinging to his proffered hand. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I am all right, too. The smoke got into my throat so I croak, but + that is nothing. Why, Mr. Grayson,—and Miss Felicia! I am so glad, + Miss Ruth, that you did not have to come alone! This way, everybody.” + </p> + <p> + Without other words they hurried into the carriage, driving like mad for + the cottage, a mile away; all the worn look gone from Ruth's face. + </p> + <p> + “And you're not hurt, my boy?” asked Peter in a trembling voice—Jack's + well hand in his own. + </p> + <p> + “No, only a few scratches, sir; that's all. Bolton's hand's in a bad way, + though; lose two of his fingers, I'm afraid.” + </p> + <p> + “And how did you escape?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. I got out the best way I could. First thing I knew I was + lying on the grass and some one was pouring water over my head; then they + got me home and put me to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “And MacFarlane?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he came along with me. I had to help him some.” + </p> + <p> + Peter heaved a sigh of relief, then he asked: + </p> + <p> + “How did it happen?” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody knows. One of the shanty men might have dropped a box of + fulminates. Poor fellow,—he never knew; they could find nothing of + him,” Jack whispered behind his hand so Ruth would not hear. + </p> + <p> + “But when did you get out of bed?” continued Peter. He was less anxious + now. + </p> + <p> + Jack looked at Ruth and again lowered his voice; the sound of the carriage + preventing its hoarse notes from reaching her ears. + </p> + <p> + “About half an hour ago, sir; they don't know I have gone, but I didn't + want anybody to frighten Miss Ruth. I don't look so bad, do I? I fixed + myself up as well as I could. I have got on Bolton's hat; I couldn't get + mine over the bandages. My wrist is the worst—sprained badly, the + doctor says.” + </p> + <p> + If Ruth heard she made no answer, nor did she speak during the ride. Now + and then she would gaze out of the window and once her fingers tightened + on Miss Felicia's arm as she passed in full view of the “fill” with the + gaping mouth of the tunnel beyond. Miss Felicia was occupied in watching + Jack. In fact, she had not taken her eyes from him since they entered the + carriage. She saw what neither Peter nor Ruth had seen;—that the boy + was suffering intensely from hidden wounds and that the strain was so + great he was verging on a collapse. No telling what these foolish + Southerners will do, she said to herself, when a woman is to be looked + after,—but she said nothing of all this to Ruth. + </p> + <p> + When the carriage stopped and Ruth with a spring leaped from her seat and + bounded upstairs to her father's bedside, Miss Felicia holding Jack's + hand, her eyes reading the boy's face, turned and said to Peter: + </p> + <p> + “Now you take him home where he belongs and put him to bed; and don't you + let him get up until I see him. No—” she continued in a more decided + tone, in answer to Jack's protest—“I won't have it. You go to bed + just as I tell you—you can hardly stand now.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I had better, Miss Felicia. I am a little shaky,” replied Jack, + in a faint voice, and the carriage kept on its way to Mrs. Hicks's leaving + the good lady on MacFarlane's porch. + </p> + <p> + MacFarlane was asleep when Ruth, trembling with excitement, reached the + house. Outside the sick room, lighted by a single taper, she met the nurse + whose few hurried words, spoken with authority, calmed her, as Jack had + been unable to do, and reassured her mind. “Compound fracture of the right + arm, Miss,” she whispered, “and badly bruised about the head, as they all + were. Poor Mr. Breen was the worst.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth looked at her in astonishment. That was why he had not lifted his + hat, she thought to herself, as she tiptoed into the sick room and sank to + her knees beside her father's bed. + </p> + <p> + The injured man opened his eyes, and his free hand moved slowly till it + rested on his daughter's head. + </p> + <p> + “I got an awful crack, Ruth, but I am all right now. Too bad to bring you + home. Who came with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Aunt Felicia and Uncle Peter,” she whispered as she stroked his uninjured + hand. + </p> + <p> + “Mighty good of them—just like old Peter. Send the old boy up—I + want to see him.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth made no answer; her heart was too full. That her father was alive was + enough. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not pretty to look at, am I, child, but I'll pull out; I have been + hurt before—had a leg broken once in the Virginia mountains when you + were a baby. The smoke was the worst; I swallowed a lot of it; and I am + sore now all over my chest. Poor Bolton's badly crippled, I hear—and + Breen—they've told you about Breen, haven't they, daughter?” His + voice rose as he mentioned the boy's name. + </p> + <p> + Ruth shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I wouldn't be here but for him! He's a plucky boy. I will never + forget him for it; you mustn't either,” he continued in a more positive + tone. + </p> + <p> + The nurse now moved to the bed. + </p> + <p> + “I would not talk any more, Mr. MacFarlane. Miss Ruth is going to be at + home now right along and she will hear the story.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I won't, nurse, if you don't want me to—but they won't be + able to tell her what a fix we were in—I remember everything up to + the time Breen dragged me from under the dirt car. I knew right away what + had happened and what we had to do; I've been there before, but—” + </p> + <p> + “There,—that will do, Mr. MacFarlane,” interrupted the nurse. “Come, + Miss Ruth, suppose you go to your room for a while.” + </p> + <p> + The girl rose to her feet. + </p> + <p> + “You can come back as soon as I fix your father for the night.” She + pointed significantly to the patient's head, whispering, “He must not get + excited.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear daddy—I will come back just as soon as I can get the dust + out of my hair and get brushed up a little,” cried Ruth bravely, in the + effort to hide her anxiety, “and then Aunt Felicia is downstairs.” + </p> + <p> + Once outside she drew the nurse, who had followed her, to the window so as + to be out of hearing of the patient and then asked breathlessly: + </p> + <p> + “What did Mr. Breen do?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know exactly, but everybody is talking about him.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment Miss Felicia arrived at the top of the stairs: she had + heard Ruth's question and had caught the dazed expression on the girl's + face. + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you, my dear, what he did, for I have heard every word of it + from the servants. The blast went off before he and your father had + reached the opening of the tunnel. They left your father for dead, then + John Breen crawled back on his hands and knees through the dreadful smoke + until he reached him, lifted him up on his shoulders and carried him out + alive. That's what he did; and he is a big, fine, strong, noble fellow, + and I am going to tell him so the moment I get my eyes on him. And that is + not all. He got out of bed this afternoon, though he could hardly stand, + and covered up all his bruises and his broken wrist so you couldn't see + them, and then he limped down to the station so you would get the truth + about your father and not be frightened. And now he is in a dead faint.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth's eyes flamed and the color left her cheeks. She stretched out both + hands as if to keep from falling. + </p> + <p> + “Saved daddy!” she gasped—“Carried him out on—Oh! Aunt + Felicia!—and I have been so mean! To think he got up out of bed and—and—” + Everything swam before her eyes. + </p> + <p> + Miss Felicia sprang forward and caught her in her arms. + </p> + <p> + “Come!—none of this, Child. Pull yourself together right away. Get + her some water, nurse,—she has stood all she can. There now, dearie—” + Ruth's head was on her breast now. “There—there—Such a poor + darling, and so many things coming all at once. There, darling, put your + head on my shoulder and cry it all out.” + </p> + <p> + The girl sobbed on, the wrinkled hand patting her cheek. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but you don't know, aunty—” she crooned. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but I do—you blessed child. I know it all.” + </p> + <p> + “And won't somebody go and help him? He is all alone, he told me so.” + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Peter is with him, dearie.'” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,—but some one who can—” she straightened up—“I will + go, aunty—I will go now.” + </p> + <p> + “You will do nothing of the kind, you little goose; you will stay just + where you are.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, won't you go, then? Oh, please—please—aunty.” Peter's + bald head now rose above the edge of the banisters. Miss Felicia motioned + him to go back, but Ruth heard his step and raised her tear-drenched face + half hidden in her dishevelled hair. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Uncle Peter, is Jack—is Mr. Breen—” + </p> + <p> + Miss Felicia's warning face behind Ruth's own, for once reached Peter in + time. + </p> + <p> + “In his bed and covered up, and his landlady, Mrs. Hicks, sitting beside + him,” responded Peter in his cheeriest tones. + </p> + <p> + “But he fainted from pain—and—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but that's all over now, my dear,” broke in Miss Felicia. + </p> + <p> + “But you will go, anyhow—won't you, aunty?” pleaded Ruth. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly—just as soon as I put you to bed, and that is just where + you have got to go this very minute,” and she led the overwrought + trembling girl into her room and shut the door. + </p> + <p> + Peter stood for an instant looking about him, his mind taking in the + situation. Ruth was being cared for now, and so was MacFarlane—the + white cap and apron of the noiseless nurse passing in and out of the room + in which he lay, assured him of that. Bolton, too, in the room next to + Jack's, was being looked after by his sister who had just arrived. He, + too, was fairly comfortable, though a couple of his fingers had been + shortened. But there was nobody to look after Jack—no father, + mother, sister—nobody. To send for the boy's uncle, or Corinne, or + his aunt, was out of the question, none of them having had more than a + word with him since his departure. Yet Jack needed attention. The doctor + had just pulled him out of one fainting spell only to have him collapse + again when his coat was taken off, and the bandages were loosened. He was + suffering greatly and was by no means out of danger. + </p> + <p> + If for the next hour or two there was anything to be done at MacFarlane's, + Peter was ready to do it, but this accomplished, he would shoulder his bag + and camp out for the night beside the boy's bed. He had come, indeed, to + tell Felicia so, and he meant to sleep there whatever her protests. He was + preparing himself for her objections, when she reentered the room. + </p> + <p> + “How is young Breen?” Miss Felicia asked in a whisper, closing the door + behind her. She had put Ruth to bed, where she had again given way to an + uncontrollable fit of weeping. + </p> + <p> + “Pretty weak. The doctor is with him now.” + </p> + <p> + “What did the fool get up for?” She did not mean to surrender too quickly + about Jack despite his heroism—not to Peter, at any rate. Then, + again, she half suspected that Ruth's tears were equally divided between + the rescuer and the rescued. + </p> + <p> + “He couldn't help it, I suppose,” answered Peter, with a gleam in his eyes—“he + was born that way.” + </p> + <p> + “Born! What stuff, Peter—no man of any common-sense would have—” + </p> + <p> + “I quite agree with you, my dear—no man except a gentleman. There is + no telling what one of that kind might do under such circumstances.” And + with a wave of his hand and a twinkle in his merry scotch-terrier eyes, + the old fellow disappeared below the handrail. + </p> + <p> + Miss Felicia leaned over the banisters: + </p> + <p> + “Peter, PETER,” she called after him, “where are you going?” + </p> + <p> + “To stay all night with Jack.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that's the most sensible thing I have heard of yet. Will you take + him a message from me?” + </p> + <p> + Peter looked up: “Yes, Felicia, what is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Give him my love.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI + </h2> + <p> + Miss Felicia kept her promise to Ruth. Before that young woman, indeed, + tired out with anxiety, had opened her beautiful eyes the next morning and + pushed back her beautiful hair from her beautiful face—and it was + still beautiful, despite all the storms it had met and weathered, the + energetic, old lady had presented herself at the front door of Mrs. + Hicks's Boarding Hotel (it was but a step from MacFarlane's) and had sent + her name to the young man in the third floor back. + </p> + <p> + A stout person, with a head of adjustable hair held in place by a band of + black velvet skewered by a gold pin, the whole surmounted by a flaring + mob-cap of various hues and dyes, looked Miss Felicia all over and replied + in a dubious tone: + </p> + <p> + “He's had a bad mash-up, and I don't think—” + </p> + <p> + “I am quite aware of it, my dear madam, or I would not be here. Now, + please show me the way to Mr. Breen's room—my brother was here last + night and—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the bald-headed gentleman?” exclaimed Mrs. Hicks. “Such a dear, kind + man; and it was as much as I could do to get him to bed and he a—” + </p> + <p> + But Miss Felicia was already inside the sitting-room, her critical eyes + noting its bare, forbidding furnishing and appointment—she had not + yet let down her skirts, the floor not being inviting. As each article + passed in review—the unsteady rocking-chairs upholstered in + haircloth and protected by stringy tidies, the disconsolate, almost + bottomless lounge, fly-specked brass clock and mantel ornaments, she could + not but recall the palatial entrance, drawing-room, and boudoir into which + Parkins had ushered her on that memorable afternoon when she had paid a + visit to Mrs. Arthur Breen—(her “last visit” the old lady would say + with a sly grimace at Holker, who had never forgiven “that pirate, Breen,” + for robbing Gilbert of his house). + </p> + <p> + “And this is what this idiot has got in exchange,” she said to herself as + she peered into the dining-room beyond, with its bespattered table-cloth + flanked by cheap china plates and ivory napkin rings—the castors + mounting guard at either end. + </p> + <p> + The entrance of the lady with the transferable hair cut short her revery. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Breen says come up, ma'am,” she said in a subdued voice. It was + astonishing how little time it took for Miss Felicia's personality to have + its effect. + </p> + <p> + Up the uncarpeted stairs marched the great lady, down an equally bare hall + lined on either side by bedroom doors, some marked by unblacked shoes + others by tin trays holding fragments of late or early breakfasts, the + flaring cap obsequiously pointing the way until the two had reached a door + at the end of the corridor. + </p> + <p> + “Now I won't bother you any more,” said Miss Felicia. “Thank you very + much. Are you in here Mr. Breen?” she called in a cheery voice as she + pushed open the door, and advanced to his bedside:—“Oh, you poor + fellow! Oh, I AM so sorry!” + </p> + <p> + The boy lay on a cot-bed pushed close to the wall. His face was like + chalk; his eyes deep set in his head; his scalp one criss-cross of + bandages, and his right hand and wrist a misshapen lump of cotton wadding + and splints. + </p> + <p> + “No, don't move. Why, you did not look as bad as this yesterday,” she + added in sympathetic tones, patting his free hand with her own, her glance + wandering over the cramped little room with its meagre appointments. + </p> + <p> + Jack smiled faintly and a light gleamed in his eyes. The memory of + yesterday evidently brought no regrets. + </p> + <p> + “I dared not look any other way,” he answered faintly; “I was so afraid of + alarming Miss Ruth.” Then after a pause in which the smile and the gleam + flickered over his pain-tortured face, he added in a more determined + voice: “I am glad I went, though the doctor was furious. He says it was + the worst thing I could have done—and thought I ought to have had + sense enough to—But don't let's talk any more about it, Miss + Felicia. It was so good of you to come. Mr. Grayson has just left. You'd + think he was a woman, he is so gentle and tender. But I'll be around in a + day or two, and as soon as I can get on my feet and look less like a + scarecrow than I do, I am coming over to see you and Miss Ruth and—yes, + and UNCLE PETER—” Miss Felicia arched her eyebrows: “Oh, you needn't + look!—that's what I am going to call him after this; we settled all + that last night.” + </p> + <p> + A smile overspread Miss Felicia's face. “Uncle Peter, is it? And I suppose + you will be calling me Aunt Felicia next?” + </p> + <p> + Jack turned his eyes: “That was just what I was trying to screw up my + courage to do. Please let me, won't you?” Again Miss Felicia lifted her + eyebrows, but she did not say she would. + </p> + <p> + “And Ruth—what do you intend to call that young lady? Of course, + without her permission, as that seems to be the fashion.” And the old + lady's eyes danced in restrained merriment. + </p> + <p> + The sufferer's face became suddenly grave; for an instant he did not + answer, then he said slowly: + </p> + <p> + “But what can I call her except Miss Ruth?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Felicia laughed. Nothing was so delicious as a love affair which she + could see into. This boy's heart was an open book. Besides, this kind of + talk would take his mind from his miseries. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but I am not so sure of that,” she rejoined, in an encouraging tone. + </p> + <p> + A light broke out in Jack's eyes: “You mean that she WOULD let me call her—call + her Ruth?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't mean anything of the kind, you foolish fellow. You have got to + ask her yourself; but there's no telling what she would not do for you + now, she's so grateful to you for saving her father's life.” + </p> + <p> + “But I did not,” he exclaimed, an expression as of acute pain crossing his + brows. “I only helped him along. But she must not be grateful. I don't + like the word. Gratitude hasn't got anything to do with—” he did not + finish the sentence. + </p> + <p> + “But you DID save his life, and you know it, and I just love you for it,” + she insisted, ignoring his criticism as she again smoothed his hand. “You + did a fine, noble act, and I am proud of you and I came to tell you so.” + Then she added suddenly: “You received my message last night, didn't you? + Now, don't tell me that that good-for-nothing Peter forgot it.” + </p> + <p> + “No, he gave it to me, and it was so kind of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then I forgive him. And now,” here she made a little salaam with + both her hands—“now you have Ruth's message.” + </p> + <p> + “I have what?” he asked in astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Ruth's message.” She still kept her face straight although her lips + quivered with merriment. + </p> + <p> + Jack tried to lift his head: “What is her message?” he asked with + expectant eyes—perhaps she had sent him a letter! + </p> + <p> + Miss Felicia tapped her bosom with her forefinger. + </p> + <p> + “ME!” she cried, “I am her message. She was so worried last night when she + found out how ill you were that I promised her to come and comfort you; + that is why it is ME. And now, don't you think you ought to get down on + your knees and thank her? Why, you don't seem a bit pleased!” + </p> + <p> + “And she sent you to me—because—because—she was GRATEFUL + that I saved her father's life?” he asked in a bewildered tone. + </p> + <p> + “Of course—why shouldn't she be; is there anything else you can give + her she would value as much as her father's life, you conceited young + Jackanapes?” + </p> + <p> + She had the pin through the butterfly now and was watching it squirm; not + maliciously—she was never malicious. He would get over the prick, + she knew. It might help him in the end, really. + </p> + <p> + “No, I suppose not,” he replied simply, as he sank back on his pillow and + turned his bruised face toward the wall. + </p> + <p> + For some moments he lay in deep thought. The last half-hour in the arbor + under the palms came back to him; the tones of Ruth's voice; the casual + way in which she returned his devouring glance. She didn't love him; never + had loved him; wouldn't ever love him. Anybody could carry another fellow + out on his back; was done every day by firemen and life-savers,—everybody, + in fact, who happened to be around when their services were most needed. + Grateful! Of course the rescued people and their friends were grateful + until they forgot all about it, as they were sure to do the next day, or + week, or month. Gratitude was not what he wanted. It was love. That was + the way he felt; that was the way he would always feel. He who loved every + hair on Ruth's beautiful head, loved her wonderful hands, loved her + darling feet, loved the very ground on which she walked “Gratitude!” eh! + That was the word his uncle had used the day he slammed the door of his + private office in his face. “Common gratitude, damn you, Jack, ought to + put more sense in your head,” as though one ought to have been “grateful” + for a seat at a gambling table and two rooms in a house supported by its + profits. Garry had said “gratitude,” too, and so had Corinne, and all the + rest of them. Peter had never talked gratitude; dear Peter, who had done + more for him than anybody in the world except his own father. Peter wanted + his love if he wanted anything, and that was what he was going to give him—big, + broad, all-absorbing LOVE. And he did love him. Even his wrinkled hands, + so soft and white, and his glistening head, and his dabs of gray whiskers, + and his sweet, firm, human mouth were precious to him. Peter—his + friend, his father, his comrade! Could he ever insult him by such a mean, + cowardly feeling as gratitude? And was the woman he loved as he loved + nothing else in life—was she—was Ruth going to belittle their + relations with the same substitute? It was a big pin, that which Miss + Felicia had impaled him on, and it is no wonder the poor fluttering wings + were nigh exhausted in the struggle! + </p> + <p> + Relief came at last. + </p> + <p> + “And now what shall I tell her?” asked Miss Felicia. “She worries more + over you than she does over her father; she can get hold of him any + minute, but you won't be presentable for a week. Come, what shall I tell + her?” + </p> + <p> + Jack shifted his shoulders so that he could move the easier and with less + pain, and raised himself on his well elbow. There was no use of his hoping + any more; she had evidently sent Miss Felicia to end the matter with one + of her polite phrases,—a weapon which she, of all women, knew so + well how to use. + </p> + <p> + “Give Miss Ruth my kindest regards,” he said in a low voice, still husky + from the effects of the smoke and the strain of the last half-hour—“and + say how thankful I am for her gratitude, and—No,—don't tell + her anything of the kind. I don't know what you are to tell her.” The + words seemed to die in his throat. + </p> + <p> + “But she will ask me, and I have got to say something. Come,—out + with it.” Her eyes were still on his face; not a beat of his wings or a + squirm of his body had she missed. + </p> + <p> + “Well just say how glad I am she is at home again and that her father is + getting on so well, and tell her I will be up and around in a day or two, + and that I am not a bit worse off for going to the station yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “Anything else?” + </p> + <p> + “No,—unless you can think of something.” + </p> + <p> + “And if I do shall I add it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh,—then I know exactly what to do,—it will be something like + this: 'Please, Ruth, take care of your precious self, and don't be worried + about me or anything else, and remember that every minute I am away from + you is misery, for I love you to distraction and—'” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Miss Felicia!” + </p> + <p> + “No—none of your protests, sir!” she laughed. “That is just what I + am going to tell her. And now don't you dare to move till Peter comes + back,” and with a toss of her aristocratic head the dear lady left the + room, closing the door behind her. + </p> + <p> + And so our poor butterfly was left flat against the wall—all his + flights ended. No more roaming over honeysuckles, drinking in the honey of + Ruth's talk; no more soaring up into the blue, the sunshine of hope + dazzling his wings. It made no difference what Miss Felicia might say to + Ruth. It was what she had said to HIM which made him realize the absurdity + of all his hopes. Everything that he had longed for, worked for, dreamed + about, was over now—the long walks in the garden, her dear hand in + his, even the song of the choir boys, and the burst of joyous music as + they passed out of the church door only to enter their own for life. All + this was gone—never to return—never had existed, in fact, + except in his own wild imagination. And once more the disheartened boy + turned his tired pain-racked face toward the bare wall. + </p> + <p> + Miss Felicia tripped downstairs with an untroubled air, extended two + fingers to Mrs. Hicks, and without more ado passed out into the morning + air. No thought of the torment she had inflicted affected the dear woman. + What were pins made for except to curb the ambitious wings of flighty + young men who were soaring higher than was good for them. She would let + him know that Ruth was a prize not to be too easily won, especially by + penniless young gentlemen, however brave and heroic they might be. + </p> + <p> + Hardly had she crossed the dreary village street encumbered with piles of + half-melted snow and mud, than she espied Peter picking his way toward + her, his silk hat brushed to a turn, his gray surtout buttoned close, + showing but the edge of his white silk muffler, his carefully rolled + umbrella serving as a divining rod the better to detect the water holes. + No one who met him and looked into his fresh, rosy face, or caught the + merry twinkle of his eyes, would ever have supposed he had been pouring + liniment over broken arms and bandaged fingers until two o'clock in the + morning of the night before. It had only been when Bolton's sister had + discovered an empty “cell,” as Jack called the bedroom next to his, that + he had abandoned his intention of camping out on Jack's disheartened + lounge, and had retired like a gentleman carrying with him all his toilet + articles, ready to be set out in the morning. + </p> + <p> + Long before that time he had captured everybody in the place: from Mrs. + Hicks, who never dreamed that such a well of tenderness over suffering + could exist in an old fellow's heart, down to the freckled-faced boy who + came for his muddy shoes and who, after a moment's talk with Peter as to + how they should be polished, retired later in the firm belief that they + belonged to “a gent way up in G,” as he expressed it, he never having + waited on “the likes of him before.” As to Bolton, he thought he was the + “best ever,” and as to his prim, patient sister who had closed her school + to be near her brother—she declared to Mrs. Hicks five minutes after + she had laid her eyes on him, that Mr. Breen's uncle was “just too dear + for anything,”—to which the lady with the movable hair and mob-cap + not only agreed, but added the remark of her own, “that folks like him was + a sight better than the kind she was a-gettin'.” + </p> + <p> + All these happenings of the night and early hours of this bright, + beautiful morning—and it was bright and sunny overhead despite the + old fellow's precautionary umbrella—had helped turn out the spick + and span gentleman who was now making his way carefully over the unpaved + road which stood for Corklesville's principal street. + </p> + <p> + Miss Felicia saw him first. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! there you are!” she cried before he could raise his eyes. “Did you + ever see anything so disgraceful as this crossing—not a plank—nothing. + No—get out of my way, Peter; you will just upset me, and I would + rather help myself.” + </p> + <p> + In reply Peter, promptly ignoring her protest, stepped in front of her, + poked into several fraudulent solidities covering unfathomable depths, + found one hard enough to bear the weight of Miss Felicia's dainty shoe—it + was about as long as a baby's hand—and holding out his own said, in + his most courtly manner: + </p> + <p> + “Be very careful now, my dear: put your foot on mine; so! now give me your + hand and jump. There—that's it.” To see Peter help a lady across a + muddy street, Holker Morris always said, was a lesson in all the finer + virtues. Sir Walter was a bungler beside him. But then Miss Felicia could + also have passed muster as the gay gallant's companion. + </p> + <p> + And just here the Scribe remarks, parenthetically, that there is nothing + that shows a woman's refinement more clearly than the way she crosses a + street. + </p> + <p> + Miss Felicia, for instance, would no more have soiled the toes of her + shoes in a puddle than a milk-white pussy would have dampened its feet in + the splash of an overturned bowl: a calm survey up and down; a taking in + of the dry and wet spots; a careful gathering up of her skirts, and over + skimmed the slender, willowy old lady with a one—two—and three—followed + by a stamp of her absurd feet and the shaking out of ruffle and pleat. + When a woman strides through mud without a shiver because she has plenty + of dry shoes and good ones at home, there are other parts of her make-up, + inside and out, that may want a looking after. + </p> + <p> + Miss Felicia safely landed on the dry and comparatively clean sidewalk, + Peter put the question he had been framing in his mind since he first + caught sight of that lady picking her way among the puddles. + </p> + <p> + “Well, how is he now?” + </p> + <p> + “His head, or his heart?” she asked with a knowing smile, dropping her + still spotless skirts. “Both are broken; the last into smithereens. It is + hopeless. He will never be any better. Oh, Peter, what a mess you have + made of things!” + </p> + <p> + “What have I done?” he laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Got these two people dead in love with each other,—both of them—Ruth + is just as bad—and no more chance of their ever being married than + you or I. Perfectly silly, Peter, and I have always told you so—and + now you will have to take the consequences.” + </p> + <p> + “Beautiful—beautiful!” chuckled Peter; “everything is coming my way. + I was sure of Jack, for he told me so, but Ruth puzzled me. Did she tell + you she loved him?” + </p> + <p> + “No, stupid, of course she did not. But have I not a pair of eyes in my + head? What do you suppose I got up for this morning at such an unearthly + hour and went over to—Oh, such an awful place!—to see that + idiot? Just to tell him I was sorry? Not a bit of it! I went to find out + what was going on, and now I know; and what is to become of it all nobody + can tell. Here is her father with every penny he has in the world in this + work—so Holker tells me—and here are a lot of damages for dead + men and Heaven knows what else; and there is Jack Breen with not a penny + to his name except his month's wages; and here is Ruth who can marry + anybody she chooses, bewitched by that boy—and I grant you she has + every reason for he is as brave as he can be, and what is better he is a + gentleman. And there lies Henry MacFarlane blind as a bat as to what is + going on! Oh!—really, Peter, there cannot be anything more absurd.” + </p> + <p> + During the outbreak Peter stood leaning on his umbrella, a smile playing + over his smooth-shaven face, his eyes snapping as if at some inwardly + suppressed fun. These were the kind of outbursts Peter loved. It was only + when Felicia was about to come over to your way of thinking that she + talked like this. It was her way of hearing the other side. + </p> + <p> + “Dreadful!—dreadful!” sighed Peter, looking the picture of woe. + “Love in a garret—everybody in rags,—one meal a day—awful + situation! Something's got to be done at once. I'll begin by taking up a + collection this very day. In the meantime, Felicia, I'll just keep on to + Jack's and see how his arm's getting on and his head. As to his heart,—I'll + talk to Ruth and see—” + </p> + <p> + “Are you crazy, Peter? You will do nothing of the kind. If you do, I will—” + </p> + <p> + But Peter, his hat in the air, was now out of hearing. When he reached the + mud line he turned, drew his umbrella as if from an imaginary scabbard, + made a military salute, and, with a suppressed gurgle in his throat, kept + on to Jack's room. + </p> + <p> + Somehow the sunshine had crept into the old fellow's veins this morning. + None of Miss Felicia's pins for him! + </p> + <p> + Ruth, from her place by the sitting-room window, had seen the two talking + and had opened the front door, before Miss Felicia's hand touched the + bell. She had already subjected Peter to a running fire of questions while + he was taking his coffee and thus had the latest intelligence down to the + moment when Peter turned low Jack's light and had tucked him in. He was + asleep when Peter had peered into his cramped room early this morning, and + the bulletin therefore could go no further. + </p> + <p> + “And how is he, aunty?” Ruth asked in a breathless tone before the front + door could be closed. + </p> + <p> + “Getting on splendidly, my dear. Slept pretty well. It is a dreadful place + for any one to be in, but I suppose he is accustomed to it by this time.” + </p> + <p> + “And is he no worse for coming to meet us, Aunt Felicia?” Ruth asked, her + voice betraying her anxiety. She had relieved the old lady of her cloak + now, and had passed one arm around her slender waist. + </p> + <p> + “No, he doesn't seem to be, dearie. Tired, of course—and it may keep + him in bed a day or two longer, but it won't make any difference in his + getting well. He will be out in a week or so.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth paused for a moment and then asked in a hesitating way, all her + sympathy in her eyes: + </p> + <p> + “And I don't suppose there is anybody to look after him, is there?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, plenty: Mrs. Hicks seems a kind, motherly person, and then Mr. + Bolton's sister runs in and out.” It was marvellous how little interest + the dear woman took in the condition of the patient. Again the girl + paused. She was sorry now she had not braved everything and gone with her. + </p> + <p> + “And did he send me any message, aunty?” This came quite as a matter of + form—merely to learn all the details. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes,—I forgot: he told me to tell you how glad he was to hear + your father was getting well,” replied Miss Felicia searching the mantel + for a book she had placed there. + </p> + <p> + Ruth bit her lips and a certain dull feeling crept about her heart. Jack, + with his broken arm and bruised head rose before her. Then another figure + supplanted it. + </p> + <p> + “And what sort of a girl is that Miss Bolton?” There was no curiosity—merely + for information. “Uncle Peter was so full of her brother and how badly he + had been hurt he hardly mentioned her name” + </p> + <p> + “I did not see her very well; she was just coming out of her brother's + room, and the hall was dark. Oh, here's my book—I knew I had left it + here.” + </p> + <p> + “Pretty?” continued Ruth, in a slightly anxious tone. + </p> + <p> + “No,—I should say not,” replied the old lady, moving to the door. + </p> + <p> + “Then you don't think there is anything I can do?” Ruth called after her. + </p> + <p> + “Not now.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth picked up Miss Felicia's wrap from the chair where that lady had + thrown it, mounted the stairs, peered from between the pots of geraniums + screening a view of the street with the Hicks Hotel dominating one corner, + wondered which window along the desolate front gave Jack light and air, + and with whispered instructions to the nurse to be sure and let her know + when her father awoke, shut herself in her room. + </p> + <p> + As for the horrible old ogre who had made all the trouble, nipping off + buds, skewering butterflies and otherwise disporting herself after the + manner of busybodies who are eternally and forever poking their thin, + pointed noses into what doesn't concern them, no hot, scalding tears, the + Scribe regrets to say, dimmed her knowing eyes, nor did any unbidden sigh + leap from her old heart. Foolish young people ought to thank her really + for what she had done—what she would still try to do—and they + would when they were a year older. + </p> + <p> + Poor, meddling Miss Felicia! Have you forgotten that night thirty years + ago when you stood in a darkened room facing a straight, soldierly looking + man, and listened to the slow dropping of words that scalded your heart + like molten metal? Have you forgotten, too, the look on his handsome face + when he uttered his protest at the persistent intermeddling of another, + and the square of his broad shoulders as he disappeared through the open + door never to return again? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII + </h2> + <p> + Some of the sunshine that had helped dry the muddy road, making possible + the path between Jack's abode and MacFarlane's hired villa—where + there was only room for Miss Felicia, Peter still occupying his cell at + Mrs. Hicks's, but taking his meals with Ruth, so that he could be within + call of MacFarlane when needed—some of this same sunshine, I say, + may have been responsible for the temporary drying up of Ruth's tears and + the establishing of various ways of communication between two hearts that + had for some days been floundering in the deeps. Or, perhaps, the rebound + may have been due to the fact that Peter had whispered something in Jack's + ear, or that Ruth had overheard Miss Felicia praising Jack's heroism to + her father—it was common talk everywhere—or it may have been + that the coming of spring which always brings hope and cheer—making + old into new, may have led to the general lighting up of the gloom that + had settled over the house of MacFarlane and its dependents; but certain + it is that such was the case. + </p> + <p> + MacFarlane began by taking a sudden change for the better—so decided + a change that he was out of his room and dressed on the fifth day + (although half his coat hid his broken arm, tightly bandaged to his side). + He had even talked as far as the geraniums in the window, through which he + could not only see Jack's hotel, but the big “earth fill” and mouth of The + Beast beyond. + </p> + <p> + Then Bolton surprised everybody by appearing outdoors, his hand alone in a + sling. What was left of the poor shanty men, too, had been buried, the + dreadful newspaper articles had ceased, and work was again in full blast. + </p> + <p> + Jack, to be sure, was still in his room, having swallowed more gas and + smoke than the others, badly scorching his insides, as he had panted under + the weight of MacFarlane's body. The crisis, however, brought on by his + imprudence in meeting Ruth at the station, had passed, and even he was + expected to be out in a few days. + </p> + <p> + As for Miss Felicia, although she had blown hot and blown cold on Ruth's + heart, until that delicate instrument stood at zero one day and at fever + heat the next, she had, on the whole, kept up an equable temperature, and + meant to do so until she shook the dust of Corklesville from her dainty + feet and went back to the clean, moist bricks of her garden. + </p> + <p> + And as for Peter! Had he not been a continuous joy; cheering everybody; + telling MacFarlane funny stories until that harassed invalid laughed + himself, unconscious of the pain to his arm; bringing roses for the prim, + wizened-up Miss Bolton, that she might have a glimpse of something fresh + and alive while she sat by her brother's bed. And last, and by no means + least, had he not the morning he had left for New York, his holiday being + over, taken Ruth in his arms and putting his lips close to her ear, + whispered something into its pink shell that had started northern lights + dancing all over her cheeks and away up to the roots of her hair; and had + she not given him a good hug and kissed him in return, a thing she had + never done in her whole life before? And had he not stopped on his way to + the station for a last hand-shake with Jack and to congratulate him for + the hundredth time for his plucky rescue of MacFarlane—a subject he + never ceased to talk about—and had he not at the very last moment, + told Jack every word of what he and Ruth talked about, with all the + details elaborated, even to the hug, which was no sooner told than another + set of northern lights got into action at once, and another hug followed; + only this time it took the form of a hearty hand-shake and a pat on + Peter's back, followed by a big tear which the boy tried his best to + conceal? Peter had no theories detrimental to penniless young gentlemen, + pursued by intermeddling old ladies. + </p> + <p> + And yet with all this there was one corner deep down in Ruth's heart so + overgrown with “wonderings” and “whys,” so thick with tangled doubts and + misgivings, that no cheering ray of certainty had yet been able to pierce + it. Nor had any one tried. Miss Felicia, good as she was and loving as she + had been, had done nothing in the pruning way—that is, nothing which + would let in any sunshine radiating from Jack. She had talked about him, + it is true; not to her, we may be sure, but to her father, saying how + handsome he had grown and what a fine man he was making of himself. She + had, too, more than once commented—and this before everybody—on + his good manners and his breeding, especially on the way he had received + her the first morning she called, and to his never apologizing for his + miserable surroundings, meagre as they were—just a theodolite, his + father's portrait and half a dozen books alone being visible, the white + walls covered with working plans. But when the poor girl had tried to draw + from her some word that was personal to himself, or one that might become + personal—and she did try even to the verge of betraying herself, + which would never have done—Miss Felicia had always turned the + subject at once or had pleaded forgetfulness. Not a word could she drag + out of this very perverse and determined old lady concerning the state of + the patient, nothing except that he was “better,” or “doing nicely,” or + that the bandage was being shortened, or some other commonplace. Uncle + Peter had been kinder. He understood—she saw that in his eyes. Still + even Uncle Peter had not told her all that she wanted to know, and of + course she could not ask him. + </p> + <p> + Soon a certain vague antagonism began to assert itself toward the old lady + who knew so much and yet who said so little! who was too old really to + understand—no old person, in fact, could understand—that is, + no old woman. This proved, too, that this particular person could never + have loved any other particular person in her life. Not that she, Ruth, + loved Jack—by no manner of means—not in that way, at least. + But she would have liked to know what he said, and how he said it, and + whether his eyes had lost that terrible look which they wore when he + turned away at the station to go back to his sick bed in the dingy hotel. + All these things her Aunt Felicia knew about and yet she could not drag a + word out of her. + </p> + <p> + What she ought to have done was to go herself that first night, bravely, + honestly, fearlessly as any friend had a right to do; go to him in his + miserable little hotel and try to cheer him up as Miss Felicia, and + perhaps Miss Bolton, had done. Then she might have found out all about it. + Exactly what it was that she wanted to find out all about—and this + increased her perplexity—she could not formulate, although she was + convinced it would help her to bear the anxiety she was suffering. Now it + was too late; more than a week had passed, and no excuse for going was + possible. + </p> + <p> + It was not until the morning after Peter's departure,—she, sitting + alone, sad and silent in her chair at the head of her father's breakfast + table (Miss Felicia, as was her custom, had her coffee in her room), that + the first ray of light had crept into her troubled brain. It had only + shone a brief moment,—and had then gone out in darkness, but it held + a certain promise for better days, and on this she had built her hopes. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to send for Breen to-morrow, Ruth,” her father had said as he + kissed her good-night. “There are some things I want to talk over with + him, and then I want to thank him for what he did for me. He's a man, + every inch of him; I haven't told him so yet,—not to his face,—but + I will to-morrow. Fine fellow is Breen; blood will always tell in the end, + my daughter, and he's got the best in the country in his veins. Looks more + like his father every day he lives.” + </p> + <p> + She had hardly slept all night, thinking of the pleasure in store for her. + She had dressed herself, too, in her most becoming breakfast gown—one + she had worn when Jack first arrived at Corklesville, and which he said + reminded him of a picture he had seen as a boy. There were pink rosebuds + woven in its soft texture, and the wide peach-blossom ribbon that bound + her dainty waist contrasted so delightfully, as he had timidly hinted, + with the tones of her hair and cheeks. + </p> + <p> + It was the puffy, bespectacled little doctor who shut out the light. + </p> + <p> + “No, your father has still one degree of fever,” he grumbled, with a wise + shake of his bushy head. “No—nobody, Miss MacFarlane,—do you + understand? He can see NOBODY—or I won't be responsible,” and with + this the crabbed old fellow climbed into his gig and drove away. + </p> + <p> + She looked after him for a moment and two hot tears dropped from her eyes + and dashed themselves to pieces on the peach-blossom ribbon. + </p> + <p> + But the sky was clearing again—she didn't realize it,—but it + was. April skies always make alternate lights and darks. The old + curmudgeon had gone, but the garden gate was again a-swing. + </p> + <p> + Ruth heard the tread on the porch and drawing back the curtains looked + out. The most brilliant sunbeams were but dull rays compared with what now + flashed from her eyes. Nor did she wait for any other hand than her own to + turn the knob of the door. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mr. Breen!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Miss Ruth,” Jack answered, lifting his hat, an unrestrained gladness + at the sight of her beauty and freshness illumining his face. “I have come + to report for duty to your father.” + </p> + <p> + “But you cannot see him. You must report to me,” she laughed gayly, her + heart brimming over now that he was before her again. “Father was going to + send for you to-day, but the doctor would not let him. Hush! he musn't + hear us.” + </p> + <p> + “He would not let me go out either, but as I am tired to death of being + cooped up in my room, I broke jail. Can't I see him?” he continued in a + lower key. He had his coat off and had hung it on the rack, she following + him into the sitting-room, absorbing every inch of his strong, well-knit + body from his short-cropped hair where the bandages had been wound, down + to the sprained wrist which was still in splints. She noted, too, with a + little choke in her throat, the shadows under the cheek bones and the + thinness of the nose. She could see plainly how he had suffered. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry you cannot see father.” She was too moved to say more. “He + still has one degree of fever.” + </p> + <p> + “I have two degrees myself,” Jack laughed softly,—“one records how + anxious I was to get out of my cell and the other how eager I was to get + here. And now I suppose I can't stay.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, you can stay if you will keep as still as a mouse so father + can't hear you,” she whispered, a note of joy woven in her tones. + </p> + <p> + She was leading him to the sofa as she spoke. He placed a cushion for her, + and took his place beside her, resting his injured hand, which was in a + sling, on the arm. He was still weak and shaking. + </p> + <p> + “Daddy is still in his room,” she rattled on nervously, “but he may be out + and prowling about the upstairs hall any minute. He has a heap of things + to talk over with you—he told me so last night—and if he knew + you were here nothing would stop him. Wait till I shut the door. And now + tell me about yourself,” she continued in a louder voice, regaining her + seat. “You have had a dreadful time, I hear—it was the wrist, wasn't + it?” She felt she was beginning badly; although conscious of her nervous + joy and her desire to conceal it, somehow it seemed hard for her to say + the right thing. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I reckon it was everything, Miss Ruth, but it's all over now.” He was + not nervous. He was in an ecstasy. His eyes were drinking in the round of + her throat and the waves of glorious hair that crowned her lovely head. He + noticed, too, some tiny threads that lay close to her ears: he had been so + hungry for a glimpse of them! + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I hope so, but you shouldn't have come to the station that day,” she + struggled on. “We had Uncle Peter with us, and only a hand-bag, each of + us,—we came away so suddenly.” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't want you to be frightened about your father. I didn't know that + Uncle Peter was with you; in fact, I didn't know much of anything until it + was all over. Bolton sent the telegram as soon as he got his breath.” + </p> + <p> + “That's what frightened us. Why didn't YOU send it?” she was gaining + control of herself now and something of her old poise had returned. + </p> + <p> + “I hadn't got MY breath,—not all of it. I remember his coming into + my room where they were tying me up and bawling out something about how to + reach you by wire, and he says now that I gave him Mr. Grayson's address. + I cannot remember that part of it, except that I—Well, never mind + about that—” he hesitated turning away his gaze—the memory + seemed to bring with it a certain pain. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,—tell me,” she pleaded. She was too happy. This was what she + had been waiting for. There was no detail he must omit. + </p> + <p> + “It was nothing, only I kept thinking it was you who were hurt,” he + stammered. + </p> + <p> + “Me!” she cried, her eyes dancing. The ray of light was breaking—one + with a promise in it for the future! + </p> + <p> + “Yes,—you, Miss Ruth! Funny, isn't it, how when you are half dead + you get things mixed up.” Oh, the stupidity of these lovers! Not a thing + had he seen of the flash of expectation in her eyes or of the hot color + rising to her cheeks. “I thought somebody was trying to tell your father + that you were hurt, and I was fighting to keep him from hearing it. But + you must thank Bolton for letting you know.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth's face clouded and the sparkle died out in her eyes. What was Mr. + Bolton to her, and at a time like this? + </p> + <p> + “It was most kind of Mr. Bolton,” she answered in a constrained voice. “I + only wish he had said something more; we had a terrible day. Uncle Peter + was nearly crazy about you; he telegraphed and telegraphed, but we could + get no answer. That's why it was such a relief to find you at the + station.” + </p> + <p> + But the bat had not finished banging his head against the wall. “Then I + did do some good by going?” he asked earnestly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, indeed you did.” If he did not care whether she had been hurt or not, + even in his delirium, she was not going to betray herself. “It was the + first time anybody had seen Uncle Peter smile; he was wretched all day. He + loves you very dearly, Mr. Breen.” + </p> + <p> + Jack's hand dropped so suddenly to his side that the pain made him tighten + his lips. For a moment he did not answer. + </p> + <p> + “Then it was only Uncle Peter who was anxious, was it? I am glad he loves + me. I love him, too,” he said at last in a perfunctory tone—“he's + been everything to me.” + </p> + <p> + “And you have been everything to him.” She determined to change the + subject now. “He told me only—well,—two days ago—that + you had made him ten years younger.” + </p> + <p> + “Me?—Miss Ruth!” Still the same monotonous cadence. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,—maybe because he is old and you are young.” As she spoke her + eyes measured the width of his shoulders and his broad chest—she saw + now to what her father owed his life—“and another thing; he said + that he would always thank you for getting out alive. And I owe you a debt + of gratitude, too, Mr. Breen;—you gave me back my dear daddy,” she + added in a more assured tone. Here at last was something she could talk + unreservedly about. Something that she had wanted to say ever since he + came. + </p> + <p> + Jack straightened and threw back his shoulders: that word again! Was that + all that Ruth had to say? + </p> + <p> + “No, Miss Ruth, you don't.” There was a slight ring of defiance now. “You + do not owe me anything, and please don't think so, and please—please—do + not say so!” + </p> + <p> + “I don't owe you anything! Not for saving my father's life?” This came + with genuine surprise. + </p> + <p> + “No! What would you have thought of me, what would I have thought of + myself had I left him to suffocate when I could just as well have brought + him out? Do you think I could ever have looked you in the face again? You + might not have ever known I could have saved him—but I should have + hated myself every hour of my life. Men are not to be thanked for these + things; they are to be despised if they don't do them. Can't you see the + difference?” + </p> + <p> + “But you might have been killed, too!” she exclaimed. Her own voice was + rising, irritation and disappointment swaying it. “Everybody says it was a + miracle you were not.” + </p> + <p> + “Not a miracle at all. All I was afraid of was stumbling over something in + the dark—and it was nearly dark—only a few of the rock lights + burning—and not be able to get on my feet again. But don't let us + talk about it any more.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—but I will, I MUST. I must feel right about it all, and I + cannot unless you listen. I shall never forget you for it as long as I + live.” There was a note of pathos in her voice. Why did he make it so hard + for her, she thought. Why would he not look in her face and see? Why would + he not let her thank him? “Nothing in the world is so precious to me as + daddy, and never will be,” she went on resolutely, driving back the + feeling of injustice that surged up in her heart at his attitude—“and + it is you, Mr. Breen, who have given him back to me. And daddy feels the + same way about it; and he is going to tell you so the minute he sees you,” + she insisted. “He has sent you a lot of messages, he says, but they do not + count. Please, now won't you let me thank you?” + </p> + <p> + Jack raised his head. He had been fingering a tassel on the end of the + sofa, missing all the play of feeling in her eyes, taking in nothing but + the changes that she rang on that one word “gratitude.” Gratitude!—when + he loved the ground she stepped on. But he must face the issue fairly now: + </p> + <p> + “No,—I don't want you to thank me,” he answered simply. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what do you want, then?” She was at sea now,—compass and + rudder gone,—wind blowing from every quarter at once,—she + trying to reach the harbor of his heart while every tack was taking her + farther from port. If the Scribe had his way the whole coast of love would + be lighted and all rocks of doubt and misunderstanding charted for just + such hapless lovers as these two. How often a twist of the tiller could + send them into the haven of each other's arms, and yet how often they go + ashore and stay ashore and worse still, stay ashore all their lives. + </p> + <p> + Jack looked into her eyes and a hopeless, tired expression crossed his + face. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” he said in a barely audible voice:—“I just—please, + Miss Ruth, let us talk of something else; let me tell you how lovely your + gown is and how glad I am you wore it to-day. I always liked it, and—” + </p> + <p> + “No,—never mind about my gown; I would rather you did not like + anything about me than misunderstand me!” The tears were just under the + lids;—one more thrust like the last and they would be streaming down + her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “But I haven't misunderstood you.” He saw the lips quiver, but it was + anger, he thought, that caused it. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you have!”—a great lump had risen in her throat. “You have + done a brave, noble act,—everybody says so; you carried my dear + father out on your back when there was not but one chance in a thousand + you would ever get out alive; you lay in a faint for hours and once they + gave you up for dead; then you thought enough of Uncle Peter and all of us + to get that telegram sent so we wouldn't be terrified to death and then at + the risk of your life you met us at the station and have been in bed ever + since, and yet I am to sit still and not say a word!” It was all she could + do to control herself. “I do feel grateful to you and I always shall feel + grateful to you as long as I live. And now will you take my hand and tell + me you are sorry, and let me say it all over again, and with my whole + heart? for that's the way I mean it.” + </p> + <p> + She was facing him now, her hand held out, her head thrown back, her dark + eyes flashing, her bosom heaving. Slowly and reverently, as a devotee + would kiss the robe of a passing priest, Jack bent his head and touched + her fingers with his lips. + </p> + <p> + Then, raising his eyes to hers, he asked, “And is that all, Miss Ruth? + Isn't there something more?” Not once had she mentioned his own safety—not + once had she been glad over him—“Something more?” he repeated, an + ineffable tenderness in his tones—“something—it isn't all, is + it?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, how can I say anything more?” she murmured in a lowered voice, + withdrawing her hand as the sound of a step in the hall reached her ear. + </p> + <p> + The door swung wide: “Well, what are you two young people quarrelling + about?” came a soft, purring voice. + </p> + <p> + “We weren't quarrelling, Aunty. Mr. Breen is so modest he doesn't want + anybody to thank him, and I just would.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Felicia felt that she had entered just in time. Scarred and penniless + heroes fresh from battle-fields of glory and desirable young women whose + fathers have been carried bodily out of burning death pits must never be + left too long together. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII + </h2> + <p> + As the weeks rolled by, two questions constantly rose in Ruth's mind: Why + had he not wanted her to thank him?—and what had he meant by—“And + is that all?” + </p> + <p> + Her other admirers—and there had been many in her Maryland home—had + never behaved like this. Was it because they liked her better than she + liked them? The fact was—and she might as well admit it once for all—that + Jack did not like her at all, he really DISliked her, and only his loyalty + to her father and that inborn courtesy which made him polite to every + woman he met—young or old—prevented his betraying himself. She + tried to suggest something like this to Miss Felicia, but that good woman + had only said: “Men are queer, my dear, and these Southerners are the + queerest of them all. They are so chivalrous that at times they get + tiresome. Breen is no better than the rest of them.” This had ended it + with Miss Felicia. Nor would she ever mention his name to her again. Jack + was not tiresome; on the contrary, he was the soul of honor and as brave + as he could be—a conclusion quite as illogical as that of her + would-be adviser. + </p> + <p> + If she could only have seen Peter, the poor child thought,—Peter + understood—just as some women not as old as her aunt would have + understood. Dear Uncle Peter! He had told her once what Jack had said + about her—how beautiful he thought her and how he loved her devotion + to her father. Jack MUST have said it, for Uncle Peter never spoke + anything but the exact truth. Then why had Jack, and everything else, + changed so cruelly? she would say—talking to herself, sometimes + aloud. For the ring had gone from his voice and the tenderness from his + touch. Not that he ever was tender, not that she wanted him to be, for + that matter; and then she would shut her door and throw herself on her bed + in an agony of tears—pleading a headache or fatigue that she might + escape her father's inquiry, and often his anxious glance. + </p> + <p> + The only ray of light that had pierced her troubled heart—and this + only flashed for a brief moment—was the glimpse she had had of + Jack's mind when he and her father first met. The boy had called to + inquire after his Chief's health and for any instructions he might wish to + give, when MacFarlane, hearing the young hero's voice in the hall below, + hurried down to greet him. Ruth was leaning over the banister at the time + and saw all that passed. Once within reach MacFarlane strode up to Jack, + and with the look on his face of a man who had at last found the son he + had been hunting for all his life, laid his hand on the lad's shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “I think we understand each other, Breen,—don't we?” he said simply, + his voice breaking. + </p> + <p> + “I think so, sir,” answered Jack, his own eyes aglow, as their hands met. + </p> + <p> + Nothing else had followed. There was no outburst. Both were men; in the + broadest and strongest sense each had weighed the other. The eyes and the + quivering lips and the lingering hand-clasp told the rest. A sudden light + broke in on Ruth. Her father's quiet words, and his rescuer's direct + answer came as a revelation. Jack, then, did want to be thanked! Yes, but + not by her! Why was it? Why had he not understood? And why had he made her + suffer, and what had she done to deserve it? + </p> + <p> + If Jack suspected any of these heartaches and misgivings, no one would + have surmised it. He came and went as usual, passing an hour in the + morning and an hour at night with his Chief, until he had entirely + recovered his strength—bringing with him the records of the work; + the number of feet drilled in a day; cost of maintenance; cubic contents + of dump; extent and slope and angles of “fill”—all the matters which + since his promotion (Jack now had Bolton's place) came under his immediate + supervision. Nor had any word passed between himself and Ruth, other than + the merest commonplace. He was cheery, buoyant, always ready to help,—always + at her service if she took the train for New York or stayed after dark at + a neighbor's house, when he would insist on bringing her home, no matter + how late he had been up the night before. + </p> + <p> + If the truth were known, he neither suspected nor could he be made to + believe that Ruth had any troubles. The facts were that he had given her + all his heart and had been ready to lay himself at her feet, that being + the accepted term in his mental vocabulary—and she would have none + of him. She had let him understand so—rebuffed him—not once, + but every time he had tried to broach the subject of his devotion;—once + in the Geneseo arbor, and again on that morning when he had really crawled + to her side because he could no longer live without seeing her. The manly + thing to do now was to accept the situation: to do his work; look after + his employer's interests, read, study, run over whenever he could to see + Peter—and these were never-to-be-forgotten oases in the desert of + his despair—and above all never to forget that he owed a duty to + Miss Ruth in which no personal wish of his own could ever find a place. + She was alone and without an escort except her father, who was often so + absorbed in his work, or so tired at night, as to be of little help to + her. Moreover, his Chief had, in a way, added his daughter's care to his + other duties. “Can't you take Ruth to-night—” or “I wish you'd meet + her at the ferry,” or “if you are going to that dinner in New York, at + so-and-so's, would you mind calling for her—” etc., etc. Don't + start, dear reader. These two came of a breed where the night key and the + daughter go together and where a chaperon would be as useless as a + policeman locked inside a bank vault. + </p> + <p> + And so the boy struggled on, growing in bodily strength and mental + experience, still the hero among the men for his heroic rescue of the + “Boss”—a reputation which he never lost; making friends every day + both in the village and in New York and keeping them; absorbed in his + slender library, and living within his means, which small as they were, + now gave him two rooms at Mrs. Hicks's,—one of which he had fitted + up as a little sitting-room and in which Ruth had poured the first cup of + tea, her father and some of the village people being guests. + </p> + <p> + His one secret—and it was his only one—he kept locked up in + his heart, even from Peter. Why worry the dear old fellow, he had said to + himself a dozen times, since nothing would ever come of it. + </p> + <p> + While all this had been going on in the house of MacFarlane, much more + astonishing things had been developing in the house of Breen. + </p> + <p> + The second Mukton Lode scoop,—the one so deftly handled the night of + Arthur Breen's dinner to the directors,—had somehow struck a snag in + the scooping with the result that most of the “scoopings” had been spilled + over the edge there to be gathered up by the gamins of the Street, instead + of being hived in the strong boxes of the scoopers. Some of the habitues + in the orchestra chairs in Breen's office had cursed loud and deep when + they saw their margins melt away; and one or two of the directors had + broken out into open revolt, charging Breen with the fiasco, but most of + the others had held their peace. It was better to crawl away into the tall + grass there to nurse their wounds than to give the enemy a list of the + killed and wounded. Now and then an outsider—one who had watched the + battle from afar—saw more of the fight than the contestants + themselves. Among these was Garry Minott. + </p> + <p> + “You heard how Mason, the Chicago man, euchred the Mukton gang, didn't + you?” he had shouted to a friend one night at the Magnolia—“Oh, + listen! boys. They set up a job on him,—he's a countryman, you know + a poor little countryman—from a small village called Chicago—he's + got three millions, remember, all in hard cash. Nice, quiet motherly old + gentleman is Mr. Mason—butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. Went into + Mukton with every dollar he had—so kind of Mr. Breen to let him in—yes, + put him down for 2,000 shares more. Then Breen & Co. began to hoist + her up—five points—ten points—twenty points. At the end + of the week they had, without knowing it, bought every share of Mason's + stock.” Here Garry roared, as did the others within hearing. “And they've + got it yet. Next day the bottom dropped out. Some of them heard Mason + laugh all the way to the bank. He's cleaned up half a million and gone + back home—'so afraid his mother would spank him for being out late + o' nights without his nurse,'” and again Garry's laugh rang out with such + force and earnestness that the glasses on Biffy's table chinked in + response. + </p> + <p> + This financial set-back, while it had injured, for the time, Arthur + Breen's reputation for being “up and dressed,” had not, to any appreciable + extent, curtailed his expenditures or narrowed the area of his social + domain. Mrs. Breen's dinners and entertainments had been as frequent and + as exclusive, and Miss Corinne had continued to run the gamut of the + gayest and best patronized functions without, the Scribe is pained to + admit, bringing home with her for good and all both her cotillion favors + and the gentleman who had bestowed them. Her little wren-like head had + moved from side to side, and she had sung her sweetest and prettiest, but + somehow, when the song was over and the crumbs all eaten (and there were + often two dinners a week and at least one dance), off went the male birds + to other and more captivating roosts. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Breen, of course, raved when Corinne at last opened the door of her + cage for Garry,—went to bed, in fact, for the day, to accentuate her + despair and mark her near approach to death because of it—a piece of + inconsistency she could well have spared herself, knowing Corinne as she + had, from the day of her birth, and remembering as she must have done, her + own escapade with the almost penniless young army officer who afterward + became Corinne's father. + </p> + <p> + Breen did not rave; Breen rather liked it. Garry had no money, it is true, + except what he could earn,—neither had Corinne. Garry seemed to do + as he darned pleased,—so did Corinne;—Garry had no mother,—neither + had Corinne so far as yielding to any authority was concerned. “Yes,—let + 'em marry,—good thing—begin at the bottom round and work up—” + all of which meant that the honorable banker was delighted over the + prospect of considerable more freedom for himself and considerable less + expense in the household. + </p> + <p> + And so the wedding had taken place with all the necessary trimmings: + awning over the carpeted sidewalk; four policemen on the curb; detectives + in the hall and up the staircase and in the front bedroom where the jewels + were exposed (all the directors of the Mukton Lode were represented); + crowds lining the sidewalk; mob outside the church door—mob inside + the church door and clear up to the altar; flowers, palms, special choir, + with little bank-notes to the boys and a big bank-note to the leader; + checks for the ranking clergyman and the two assistant clergymen, not + forgetting crisp bills for the sexton and the janitor and the policemen + and the detectives and everybody else who could hold out a hand and not be + locked up in jail for highway robbery. Yes, a most fashionable and a most + distinguished and a most exclusive wedding—there was no mistake + about that. + </p> + <p> + No one had ever seen anything like it before; some hoped they never would + again, so great was the crush in the drawing-room. And not only in the + drawing-room, but over every square inch of the house for that matter, + from the front door where Parkins's assistant (an extra man from + Delmonico's) shouted out—“Third floor back for the gentlemen and + second floor front for the ladies”—to the innermost recesses of the + library made over into a banquet hall, where that great functionary + himself was pouring champagne into batteries of tumblers as if it were so + much water, and distributing cuts of cold salmon and portions of terrapin + with the prodigality of a charity committee serving a picnic. + </p> + <p> + And then the heartaches over the cards that never came; and the presents + that were never sent, and the wrath of the relations who got below the + ribbon in the church and the airs of the strangers who got above it; and + the tears over the costly dresses that did not arrive in time and the + chagrin over those they had to wear or stay at home—and the heat and + the jam and tear and squeeze—and the aftermath of wet glasses on + inlaid tables and fine-spun table-cloths burnt into holes with careless + cigarettes; and the little puddles of ice cream on the Turkish rugs and + silk divans and the broken glass and smashed china!—No—there + never had been such a wedding! + </p> + <p> + This over, Corinne and Garry had gone to housekeeping in a dear little + flat, to which we may be sure Jack was rarely ever invited (he had only + received “cards” to the church, an invitation which he had religiously + accepted, standing at the door so he could bow to them both as they + passed)—the two, I say, had gone to a dear little flat—so + dear, in fact, that before the year was out Garry's finances were in such + a deplorable condition that the lease could not be renewed, and another + and a cheaper nest had to be sought for. + </p> + <p> + It was at this time that the new church to be built at Corklesville needed + an architect—a fact which Jack communicated to Garry. Then it + happened that with the aid of MacFarlane and Holker Morris the commission + was finally awarded to that “rising young genius who had so justly + distinguished himself in the atelier of America's greatest architect—Holker + Morris—” all of which Garry wrote himself and had inserted in the + county paper, he having called upon the editor for that very purpose. This + service—and it came at a most critical time in the young man's + affairs—the Scribe is glad to say, Garry, with his old-time generous + spirit suddenly revived, graciously acknowledged thanking Jack heartily + and with meaning in his voice, as well as MacFarlane—not forgetting + Ruth, to whom he sent a mass of roses as big as a bandbox. + </p> + <p> + The gaining of this church building—the largest and most important + given the young architect since he had left Morris's protection and + guidance—decided Garry to give up at once his expensive quarters in + New York and move to Corklesville. So far as any help from the house of + Breen was concerned, all hope had ended with the expensive and + much-advertised wedding (a shrewd financial move, really, for a firm + selling shady securities). Corinne had cooed, wept, and then succumbed + into an illness, but Breen had only replied: “No, let 'em paddle their own + canoe.” + </p> + <p> + This is why the sign “To Let,” on one of the new houses built by the Elm + Crest Land and Improvement Company—old Tom Corkle who owned the + market garden farms that gave the village of Corklesville its name, would + have laughed himself sore had he been alive—was ripped off and + various teams loaded with all sorts of furniture, some very expensive and + showy and some quite the contrary—especially that belonging to the + servants' rooms—were backed up to the newly finished porch with its + second coat of paint still wet, and their contents duly distributed + upstairs and downstairs and in my lady Corinne's chamber. + </p> + <p> + “Got to put on the brakes, old man,” Garry had said one day to Jack. The + boy had heard of the expected change in the architect's finances before + the villa was rented, and so Garry's confidential communication was not + news to him. + </p> + <p> + “Been up to look at one of those new houses. Regular bird cage, but we can + get along. Besides, this town is going to grow and I'm going to help it + along. They are all dead out here—embalmed, some of them—but + dead.” Here he opened the pamphlet of the company—“See this house—an + hour from New York; high ground; view of the harbor—(all a lie, + Jack, but it goes all the same); sewers, running water, gas (lot of the + last,—most of it in the prospectus) It's called Elm Crest—beautiful, + isn't it,—and not a stump within half a mile.” + </p> + <p> + Jack always remembered the interview. That Garry should help along + anything that he took an interest in was quite in the line of his ambition + and ability. Minott was as “smart as a steel trap,” Holker Morris had + always said of him, “and a wonderful fellow among the men. He can get + anything out of them; he would really make a good politician. His handling + of the Corn Exchange showed that.” + </p> + <p> + And so it was not surprising,—not to Jack,—that when a new + village councilman was to be elected, Garry should have secured votes + enough to be included among their number. Nor was it at all wonderful that + after taking his seat he should have been placed in charge of the village + funds so far as the expenditures for contract work went. The prestige of + Morris's office settled all doubts as to his fitness in construction; and + the splendor of the wedding—there could still be seen posted in the + houses of the workmen the newspaper cuts showing the bride and groom + leaving the church—silenced all opposition to “our fellow + townsman's” financial responsibility, even when that opposition was led by + so prominent a ward heeler as Mr. Patrick McGowan, who had planned to get + the position himself—and who became Garry's arch enemy thereafter. + </p> + <p> + In these financial and political advancements Corinne helped but little. + None of the village people interested her, nor did she put herself out in + the least to be polite to them. Ruth had called and had brought her hands + full of roses—and so had her father. Garry had continued to thank + them both for their good word to the church wardens—and he himself + now and then spent an evening at MacFarlane's house without Corinne, who + generally pleaded illness; but the little flame of friendship which had + flashed after their arrival in Corklesville had died down again. + </p> + <p> + This had gone on until the acquaintance had practically ended, except when + they met on the trains or in crossing the ferry. Then again, Ruth and her + father lived at one end of the village known as Corklesville, and Garry + and Corinne lived at the other end, known as Elm Crest, the connecting + link being the railroad, a fact which Jack told Garry with a suggestive + laugh, made them always turn their backs on each other when they parted to + go to their respective homes, to which Garry would reply that it was an + outrage and that he was coming up that very night—all of which he + failed to do when the proposed visit was talked over with Corinne. + </p> + <p> + None of this affected Jack. He would greet Corinne as affectionately and + cordially as he had ever done. He had taken her measure years before, but + that made no difference to him, he never forgetting that she was his + uncle's nominal daughter; that they had been sheltered by the same roof + and that she therefore in a way belonged to his people. Moreover, he + realized, that like himself, she had been compelled to give up many of the + luxuries and surroundings to which she had been accustomed and which she + loved,—worthless now to Jack in his freedom, but still precious to + her. This in itself was enough to bespeak his sympathy. Not that she + valued it;—she rather sniffed at it. + </p> + <p> + “I wish Jack wouldn't stand with his hat off until I get aboard the + train,” she had told Garry one day shortly after their arrival—“he + makes me so conspicuous. And he wears such queer clothes. He was in his + slouch hat and rough flannel shirt and high boots the other day and looked + like a tramp.” + </p> + <p> + “Better not laugh at Jack, Cory,” Garry had replied; “you'll be taking + your own hat off to him one of these days; we all shall. Arthur Breen + missed it when he let him go. Jack's queer about some things, but he's a + thoroughbred and he's got brains!” + </p> + <p> + “He insulted Mr. Breen in his own house, that's why he let him go,” + snapped Corinne. The idea of her ever taking off her hat, even + figuratively, to John Breen, was not to be brooked,—not for an + instant. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that's one way of looking at it, Cory, but I tell you if Arthur + Breen had had Jack with him these last few months—ever since he left + him, in fact,—and had listened once in a while to what Jack thought + was fair and square, the firm of A. B. & Co. would have a better hold + on things than they've got now; and he wouldn't have dropped that million + either. The cards don't always come up the right way, even when they're + stacked.” + </p> + <p> + “It just served my stepfather right for not giving us some of it, and I'm + glad he lost it,” Corinne rejoined, her anger rising again. “I have never + forgiven him for not making me an allowance after I married, and I never + will. He could, at least, have continued the one he always gave me.” + </p> + <p> + Garry winked sententiously, and remarked in reply that he might be making + the distinguished money-bags an allowance himself one of these fine days, + and he could if some of the things he was counting on came out top side + up, but Corinne's opinions did not change either toward Jack or her + stepfather. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX + </h2> + <p> + When the pain in Jack's heart over Ruth became unbearable, there was + always one refuge left—one balm which never failed to soothe, and + that was Peter. + </p> + <p> + For though he held himself in readiness for her call, being seldom absent + lest she might need his services, their constrained intercourse brought + with it more pain than pleasure. It was then that he longed for the + comfort which only his dear mentor could give. + </p> + <p> + On these occasions Mrs. McGuffey would take the lace cover off Miss + Felicia's bureau, as a matter of precaution, provided that lady was away + and the room available, and roll in a big tub for the young gentleman—“who + do be washin' hisself all the time and he that sloppy that I'm afeared + everything will be spi'lt for the mistress,” and Jack would slip out of + his working clothes (he would often come away in his flannel shirt and + loose tie, especially when he was late in paying off) and shed his heavy + boots with the red clay of Jersey still clinging to their soles, and get + into his white linen and black clothes and dress shoes, and then the two + chums would lock arms and saunter up Fifth Avenue to dine either at one of + Peter's clubs or at some house where he and that “handsome young ward of + yours, Mr. Grayson—do bring him again,” were so welcome. + </p> + <p> + If Miss Felicia was in town and her room in use, there was never any + change in the programme, Mrs. McGuffey rising to the emergency and + discovering another and somewhat larger apartment in the next house but + two—“for one of the finest gintlemen ye ever saw and that quiet,” + etc.—into which Jack would move and which the good woman would + insist on taking full charge of herself. + </p> + <p> + It was on one of these blessed and always welcome nights, after the two + had been dining at “a little crack in the wall,” as Peter called a near-by + Italian restaurant, that he and Jack stopped to speak to Isaac Cohen whom + they found closing his shop for the night. Cohen invited them in and Jack, + after following the little tailor through the deserted shop—all the + work people had left—found himself, to his great surprise, in a + small room at the rear, which Isaac opened with a key taken from his vest + pocket, and which even in the dim light of a single gas jet had more the + appearance of the den of a scholar, or the workshop of a scientist, than + the private office of a fashioner of clothes. + </p> + <p> + Peter only stayed a moment—long enough to borrow the second volume + of one of Isaac's books, but the quaint interior and what it contained + made a great impression on Jack,—so much so that when the two had + said good-night and mounted the stairs to Peter's rooms, it was with + increased interest that the boy listened to the old fellow who stopped on + every landing to tell him some incident connected with the little tailor + and his life: How after his wife's death some years before, and his only + daughter's marriage—“and a great affair it was, my boy, I was there + and know,”—Cohen had moved down to his shop and fitted up the back + room for a little shelter of his own, where he had lived with his books + and his personal belongings and where he had met the queerest looking + people—with big heads and bushy beards—foreigners, some of + them—speaking all kinds of languages, as well as many highly + educated men in town. + </p> + <p> + Once inside his own cosey rooms Peter bustled about, poking the fire into + life, drawing the red curtains closer, moving a vase of roses so he could + catch their fragrance from where he sat, wheeling two big, easy, + all-embracing arm-chairs to the blaze, rolling a small table laden with + various burnables and pourables within reach of their elbows, and + otherwise disporting himself after the manner of the most cheery and + lovable of hosts. This done, he again took up the thread of his discourse. + </p> + <p> + “Yes! He's a wonderful old fellow, this Isaac Cohen,” he rattled on when + the two were seated. “You had only a glimpse of that den of his, but you + should see his books on costumes,—he's an authority, you know,—and + his miniatures,—Oh, a Cosway, which he keeps in his safe, that is a + wonder!—and his old manuscripts. Those are locked up too. And he's a + gentleman, too, Jack; not once in all the years I have known him have I + ever heard him mention the word money in an objectionable way, and he has + plenty of it even if he does press off my coat with his own hands. Can you + recall anybody you know, my boy—even in the houses where you and I + have been lately, who doesn't let the word slip out in a dozen different + ways before the evening is over? And best of all, he's sane,—one of + the few men whom it is safe to let walk around loose.” + </p> + <p> + “And you like him?” + </p> + <p> + “Immensely.” + </p> + <p> + “And you never remember he is a Jew?” This was one of the things Jack had + never understood. + </p> + <p> + “Never;—that's not his fault,—rather to his credit.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because the world is against both him and his race, and yet in all the + years I have known him, nothing has ever soured his temper.” + </p> + <p> + Jack struck a match, relit his cigar and settling himself more comfortably + in his chair, said in a positive tone: + </p> + <p> + “Sour or sweet,—I don't like Jews,—never did.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't like him because you don't know him. That's your fault, not + his. But you would like him, let me tell you, if you could hear him talk. + And now I think of it, I am determined you shall know him, and right away. + Not that he cares—Cohen's friends are among the best men in London, + especially the better grade of theatrical people, whose clothes he has + made and whose purses he has kept full—yes—and whom he + sometimes had to bury to keep them out of Potter's field; and those he + knows here—his kind of people, I mean, not yours.” + </p> + <p> + “All in his line of business, Uncle Peter,” Jack laughed. “How much + interest did they pay,—cent per cent?” + </p> + <p> + “I am ashamed of you, Jack. Not a penny. Don't let your mind get clogged + up, my boy, with such prejudices,—keep the slate of your judgment + sponged clean.” + </p> + <p> + “But you believe everybody is clean, Uncle Peter.” + </p> + <p> + “And so must you, until you prove them dirty. Now, will you do me a very + great kindness and yourself one as well? Please go downstairs, rap three + times at Mr. Cohen's shutters—hard, so that he can hear you—that's + my signal—present my compliments and ask him to be kind enough to + come up and have a cigar with us.” + </p> + <p> + Jack leaned forward in his seat, his face showing his astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “You don't mean it?” + </p> + <p> + “I do.” + </p> + <p> + “All right.” + </p> + <p> + The boy was out of his chair and clattering down-stairs before Peter could + add another word to his message. If he had asked him to crawl out on the + roof and drop himself into the third-story window of the next house, he + would have obeyed him with the same alacrity. + </p> + <p> + Peter wheeled up another chair; added some small and large glasses to the + collection on the tray and awaited Jack's return. The experience was not + new. The stupid, illogical prejudice was not confined to inexperienced + lads. + </p> + <p> + He had had the same thing to contend with dozens of times before. Even + Holker had once said: “Peter, what the devil do you find in that little + shrimp of a Hebrew to interest you? Is he cold that you warm him, or + hungry that you feed him,—or lonely that—” + </p> + <p> + “Stop right there, Holker! You've said it,—lonely—that's it—LONELY! + That's what made me bring him up the first time he was ever here. It + seemed such a wicked thing to me to have him at one end of the house—the + bottom end, too—crooning over a fire, and I at the top end crooning + over another, when one blaze could warm us both. So up he came, Holker, + and now it is I who am lonely when a week passes and Isaac does not tap at + my door, or I tap at his.” + </p> + <p> + The distinguished architect understood it all a week later when the new + uptown synagogue was being talked of and he was invited to meet the board, + and found to his astonishment that the wise little man with the big gold + spectacles, occupying the chair was none other than Peter's tailor. + </p> + <p> + “Our mutual friend Mr. Grayson, of the Exeter Bank, spoke to me about you, + Mr. Morris,” said the little man without a trace of foreign accent and + with all the composure of a great banker making a government loan; rising + at the same time, with great dignity introducing Morris to his brother + trustees and then placing him in the empty seat next his own. After that, + and on more than one occasion, there were three chairs around Peter's + blaze, with Morris in one of them. + </p> + <p> + All these thoughts coursed through Peter's head as Jack and Cohen were + mounting the three flights of stairs. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Isaac,” he cried at first sight of his friend, “I just wanted you to + know my boy, Jack Breen, better, and as his legs are younger than mine, I + sent him down instead of going myself—you don't mind, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “Mind!—of course I do not mind,—but I do know Mr. Breen. I + first met him many months ago—when your sister was here—and + then I see him going in and out all the time—and—” + </p> + <p> + “Stop your nonsense, Isaac;—that's not the way to know a man; that's + the way not to know him, but what's more to the point is, I want Jack to + know you. These young fellows have very peculiar ideas about a good many + things,—and this boy is like all the rest—some of which ought + to be knocked out of his head,—your race, for one thing. He thinks + that because you are a Jew that you—” + </p> + <p> + Jack uttered a smothered, “Oh, Uncle Peter!” but the old fellow who now + had the tailor in one of his big chairs and was filling a thin wineglass + with a brown liquid (ten years in the wood)—Holker sent it—kept + straight on. “Jack's all right inside, or I wouldn't love him, but there + are a good many things he has got to learn, and you happen to be one of + them.” + </p> + <p> + Cohen lay back in his chair and laughed heartily. + </p> + <p> + “Do not mind him, Mr. Breen,—do not mind a word he says. He + mortifies me that same way. And now—” here he turned his head to + Peter—“what does he think of my race?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! He thinks you are a lot of money-getters and pawnbrokers, gouging the + poor and squeezing the rich.” + </p> + <p> + Jack broke out into a cold perspiration: “Really, Uncle Peter! Now, Mr. + Cohen, won't you please believe that I never said one word of it,” + exclaimed Jack in pleading tones, his face expressing his embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + “I never said you did, Jack,” rejoined Peter with mock solemnity in his + voice. “I said you THOUGHT so. And now here he is,—look at him. Does + he look like Scrooge or Shylock or some old skinflint who—” here he + faced Cohen, his eyes brimming with merriment—“What are we going to + do with this blasphemer, Isaac? Shall we boil him in oil as they did that + old sixteenth-century saint you were telling me about the other night, or + shall we—?” + </p> + <p> + The little tailor threw out his hands—each finger an exclamation + point—and laughed heartily, cutting short Peter's tirade. + </p> + <p> + “No—no—we do none of these dreadful things to Mr. Breen; he is + too good to be a saint,” and he patted Jack's knees—“and then again + it is only the truth. Mr. Breen is quite right; we are a race of + money-getters, and we are also the world's pawnbrokers and will always be. + Sometimes we make a loan on a watch or a wedding ring to keep some poor + soul from starving; sometimes it is a railroad to give a millionaire a + yacht, or help buy his wife a string of pearls. It is quite the same, only + over one shop we hang three gilt balls: on the other we nail a sign which + reads: 'Financial Agents.' And it is the same Jew, remember, who stands + behind both counters. The first Jew is overhauled almost every day by the + police; the second Jew is regarded as our public-spirited citizen. So you + see, my young friend, that it is only a question of the amount of money + you have got whether you loan on rings or railroads.” + </p> + <p> + “And whether the Christian lifts his hat or his boot,” laughed Peter. + </p> + <p> + Cohen leaned his elbows on his plump knees and went on, the slender glass + still in his hand, from which now and then he took a sip. Peter sat buried + in his chair, his cigar between his fingers. Jack held his peace; it was + not for him to air his opinions in the presence of the two older men, and + then again the tailor had suddenly become a savant. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, there are many things I wish were different,” the tailor + continued in a more thoughtful tone. “Many of my people forget their + birthright and force themselves on the Christian, trying to break down the + fence which has always divided us, and which is really our best + protection. As long as we keep to ourselves we are a power. Persecution,—and + sometimes it amounts to that—is better than amalgamation; it brings + out our better fighting qualities and makes us rely on ourselves. This is + the view of our best thinkers, and they are right. Just hear me run on! + Why talk about these things? They are for graybeards, not young fellows + with the world before them.” Cohen straightened up—laid his glass on + the small table, waved his hand in denial to Peter who started to refill + it, and continued, turning to Jack: “And now let me hear something about + your own work, Mr. Breen,” he said in his kindest and most interested + voice. “Mr. Grayson tells me you are cutting a great tunnel. Under a + mountain, is it not? Ah!—that is something worth doing. And here is + this old uncle of yours with his fine clothes and his old wine, who does + nothing but pore over his musty bank-books, and here am I in the cellar + below, who can only sew on buttons, and yet we have the impudence to + criticise you. Really, I never heard of such conceit!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!—but it isn't my tunnel,” Jack eagerly protested, greatly amused + at the Jew's talk; “I am just an assistant, Mr. Cohen.” Somehow he had + grown suddenly smaller since the little man had been talking. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,—of course, we are all assistants; Mr. Grayson assists at the + bank, and I assist my man, Jacob, who makes such funny mistakes in the cut + of his trousers. Oh, yes, that is quite the way life is made up. But about + this tunnel? It is part of this new branch, is it not? Some of my friends + have told me about it. And it is going straight through the mountain.” + </p> + <p> + And then before Jack or Peter could reply the speaker branched out into an + account of the financing of the great Mt. Cenis tunnel, and why the + founder of the house of Rothschild, who had “assisted” in its + construction, got so many decorations from foreign governments; the talk + finally switching off to the enamelled and jewelled snuff boxes of Baron + James Rothschild, whose collection had been the largest in Europe; and + what had become of it; and then by one of those illogical jumps—often + indulged in by well-informed men discussing any subject that absorbs them—brought + up at Voltaire and Taine and the earlier days of the Revolution in which + one of the little tailor's ancestors had suffered spoliation and death. + </p> + <p> + Jack sat silent—he had long since found himself out of his depth—drinking + in every word of the talk, his wonderment increasing every moment, not + only over Cohen, but over Peter as well, whom he had never before heard so + eloquent or so learned, or so entertaining. When at last the little man + rose to go, the boy, with one of those spontaneous impulses which was part + of his nature, sprang from his seat, found the tailor's hat himself, and + conducting him to the door, wished him good-night with all the grace and + well-meant courtesy he would show a prince of the blood, should he ever be + fortunate enough to meet one. + </p> + <p> + Peter was standing on the mat, his back to the fire, when the boy + returned. + </p> + <p> + “Jack, you delight me!” the old fellow cried. “Your father couldn't have + played host better. Really, I am beginning to believe I won't have to lock + you up in an asylum. You're getting wonderfully sane, my boy,—real + human. Jack, do you know that if you keep on this way I shall really begin + to love you!” + </p> + <p> + “But what an extraordinary man,” exclaimed Jack, ignoring Peter's + compliment and badinage. “Is there anything he does not know?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,—many things. Oh! a great many things. He doesn't know how to + be rude, or ill bred, or purse-proud. He doesn't know how to snub people + who are poorer than he is, or to push himself in where he isn't wanted; or + to talk behind people's backs after he has accepted their hospitality. + Just plain gentleman journeyman tailor, Jack. And now, my boy, be honest. + Isn't he a relief after some of the people you and I meet every day?” + </p> + <p> + Jack settled again in his chair. His mind was not at all easy. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he is, and that makes me afraid I was rude. I didn't mean to be.” + </p> + <p> + “No,—you acted just right. I wanted to draw him out so you could + hear, and you must say that he was charming. And the best of it is that he + could have talked equally well on a dozen other subjects.” + </p> + <p> + For some time Jack did not answer. Despite Peter's good opinion of him, he + still felt that he had either said or done something he should be ashamed + of. He knew it was his snap judgment about Cohen that had been the cause + of the object lesson he had just received. Peter had not said so in so + many words—it was always with a jest or a laugh that he corrected + his faults, but he felt their truth all the same. + </p> + <p> + For some minutes he leaned back in his chair, his eyes on the ceiling; + then he said in a tone of conviction: + </p> + <p> + “I WAS wrong about Mr. Cohen, Uncle Peter. I am always putting my foot in + it. He is an extraordinary man. He certainly is, to listen to, whatever he + is in his business.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Jack, my boy—you were only honest,” Peter rejoined, passing + over the covert allusion to the financial side of the tailor. “You didn't + like his race and you said so. Act first. Then you found out you were + wrong and you said so. Act second. Then you discovered you owed him an + ample apology and you bowed him out as if he had been a duke. Act third. + And now comes the epilogue—Better be kind and human than be king! + Eh, Jack?” and the old gentleman threw back his head and laughed heartily. + </p> + <p> + Jack made no reply. He was through with Cohen;—something else was on + his mind of far more importance than the likes and dislikes of all the + Jews in Christendom. Something he had intended to lay before Peter at the + very moment the old fellow had sent him for Isaac—something he had + come all the way to New York to discuss with him; something that had + worried him for days. There was but half an hour left; then he must get + his bag and say good-night and good-by for another week or more. + </p> + <p> + Peter noticed the boy's mood and laid his hand on his wrist. Somehow this + was not the same Jack. + </p> + <p> + “I haven't hurt you, my son, have I?” he asked with a note of tenderness + in his voice. + </p> + <p> + “Hurt me! You couldn't hurt me, Uncle Peter!” There was no question of his + sincerity as he spoke. It sprang straight from his heart. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, what's the matter?—out with it. No secrets from + blundering old Peter,” he rejoined in a satisfied tone. + </p> + <p> + Jack laughed gently: “Well, sir, it's about the work.” It wasn't; but it + might lead to it later on. + </p> + <p> + “Work!—what's the matter with the work! Anything wrong?” There was a + note of alarm now that made Jack reply hastily: + </p> + <p> + “No, it will be finished next month: we are lining up the arches this week + and the railroad people have already begun to dump their cross ties along + the road bed. It's about another job. Mr. MacFarlane, I am afraid, hasn't + made much money on the fill and tunnel, but he has some other work offered + him up in Western Maryland, which he may take, and which, if he does, may + pay handsomely. He wants me to go with him. It means a shanty and a negro + cook, as near as I can figure it, but I shall get used to that, I suppose. + What do you think about it?” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” chuckled Peter—it was not news; MacFarlane had told him all + about it the week before at the Century—“if you can keep the shanty + tight and the cook sober you may weather it. It must be great fun living + in a shanty. I never tried it, but I would like to.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, perhaps it is,—but it has its drawbacks. I can't come to see + you for one thing, and then the home will be broken up. Miss Ruth will go + back to her grandmother's for a while, she says, and later on she will + visit the Fosters at Newport and perhaps spend a month with Aunt Felicia.” + He called her so now. + </p> + <p> + Jack paused for some further expression of opinion from his always ready + adviser, but Peter's eyes were still fixed on the slow, dying fire. + </p> + <p> + “It will be rather a rough job from what I saw of it,” Jack went on. “We + are to run a horizontal shaft into some ore deposits. Mr. MacFarlane and I + have been studying the plans for some time; we went over the ground + together last month. That's why I didn't come to you last week.” + </p> + <p> + Peter twisted his head: “What's the name of the nearest town?” MacFarlane + had told him but he had forgotten. + </p> + <p> + “Morfordsburg. I was there once with my father when I was a boy. He had + some ore lands near where these are;—those he left me. The + Cumberland property we always called it. I told you about it once. It will + never amount to anything,—except by expensive boring. That is also + what hurts the value of this new property the Maryland Mining Company + owns. That's what they want Mr. MacFarlane for. Now, what would you do if + you were me?” + </p> + <p> + “What sort of a town is Morfordsburg?” inquired Peter, ignoring Jack's + question, his head still buried between his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, like all other country villages, away from railroad connection.” + </p> + <p> + “Any good houses,—any to rent?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,—I saw two.” + </p> + <p> + “And you want my advice, do you, Jack?” he burst out, rising erect in his + seat. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'd stick to MacFarlane and take Ruth with me.” + </p> + <p> + Jack broke out into a forced laugh. Peter had arrived by a short cut! Now + he knew, he was a mind reader. + </p> + <p> + “She won't go,” he answered in a voice that showed he was open to + conviction. Peter, perhaps, had something up his sleeve. + </p> + <p> + “Have you asked her?” The old fellow's eyes were upon him now. + </p> + <p> + “No,—not in so many words.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, try it. She has always gone with her father; she loves the outdoor + life and it loves her. I never saw her look as pretty as she is now, and + she has her horse too. Try asking her yourself, beg her to come along and + keep house and make a home for the three of you.” + </p> + <p> + Jack leaned back in his seat, his face a tangle of hopes and fears. What + was Uncle Peter driving at, anyhow? + </p> + <p> + “I have tried other things, and she would not listen,” he said in a more + positive tone. Again the two interviews he had had with Ruth came into his + mind; the last one as if it had been yesterday. + </p> + <p> + “Try until she DOES listen,” continued Peter. “Tell her you will be very + lonely if she doesn't go, and that she is the one and only thing in + Corklesville that interests you outside of your work—and be sure you + mention the dear girl first and the work last—and that you won't + have another happy hour if she leaves you in the—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!—Uncle Peter!” + </p> + <p> + “And why not? It's a fact, isn't it? You were honest about Isaac; why not + be honest with Ruth?” + </p> + <p> + “I am.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you're not,—you only tell her half what's in your heart. Tell + her all of it! The poor child has been very much depressed of late, so + Felicia tells me, over something that troubles her, and I wouldn't be at + all surprised if you were at the bottom of it. Give yourself an + overhauling and find out what you have said or done to hurt her. She will + never forget you for pulling her father out of that hole, nor will he.” + </p> + <p> + Jack bristled up: “I don't want her to think of me in that way!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you don't! don't you? Oh, of course not! You want her to think of you + as a great and glorious young knight who goes prancing about the world + doing good from habit, and yet you are so high and mighty that—Jack, + you rascal, do you know you are the stupidest thing that breathes? You're + like a turkey, my boy, trying to get over the top rail of a pen with its + head in the air, when all it has to do is to stoop a little and march out + on its toes.” + </p> + <p> + Jack rose from his seat and walked toward the fire, where he stood with + one hand on the mantel. He knew Peter had a purpose in all his raillery + and yet he dared not voice the words that trembled on his lips; he could + tell the old fellow everything in his life except his love for Ruth and + her refusal to listen to him. This was the bitterest of all his failures, + and this he would not and could not pour into Peter's ears. Neither did he + want Ruth to have Peter's help, nor Miss Felicia's; nor MacFarlane's; not + anybody's help where her heart was concerned. If Ruth loved him that was + enough, but he wouldn't have anybody persuade her to love him, or advise + with her about loving him. How much Peter knew he could not say. Perhaps!—perhaps + Ruth told him something!—something he was keeping to himself! + </p> + <p> + As this last thought forced itself into his brain a great surge of joy + swept over him. For a brief moment he stood irresolute. One of Peter's + phrases now rang clear: “Stoop a little!” Stoop?—hadn't he done + everything a man could do to win a woman, and had he not found the bars + always facing him? + </p> + <p> + With this his heart sank again. No, there was no use of thinking anything + more about it, nor would he tell him. There were some things that even + Peter couldn't understand,—and no wonder, when you think how many + years had gone by since he loved any woman. + </p> + <p> + The chime of the little clock rang out. + </p> + <p> + Jack turned quickly: “Eleven o'clock, Uncle Peter, and I must go; time's + up. I hate to leave you.” + </p> + <p> + “And what about the shanty and the cook?” said Peter, his eyes searching + Jack's. + </p> + <p> + “I'll go,—I intended to go all the time if you approved.” + </p> + <p> + “And what about Ruth?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't ask me, Uncle Peter, not now.” And he hurried off to pack his bag. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX + </h2> + <p> + If Jack, after leaving Peter and racing for the ferry, had, under Peter's + advice, formulated in his mind any plan by which he could break down + Ruth's resolve to leave both her father and himself in the lurch and go + out in the gay world alone, there was one factor which he must have left + out of his calculations—and that was the unexpected. + </p> + <p> + One expression of Peter's, however, haunted him all the way home:—that + Ruth was suffering and that he had been the cause of it. Had he hurt her?—and + if so, how and when? With this, the dear girl's face, with the look of + pain on it which Miss Felicia had noticed, rose before him. Perhaps Peter + was right. He had never thought of Ruth's side of the matter—had + never realized that she, too, might have suffered. To-morrow he would go + to her. If he could not win her for himself he could, at least, find out + the cause and help relieve her pain. + </p> + <p> + This idea so possessed him that it was nearly dawn before he dropped to + sleep. + </p> + <p> + With the morning everything changed. + </p> + <p> + Such a rain had never been known to fall—not in the memory of the + oldest moss-back in the village—if any such ancient inhabitant + existed. Twelve hours of it had made rivers of the streets, quagmires of + the roads, and covered the crossings ankle-deep with mud. It had begun in + the night while Isaac was expounding his views on snuff boxes, tunnels, + and Voltaire to Peter and Jack, had followed Jack across the river and had + continued to soak into his clothes until he opened Mrs. Hicks's front door + with his private key. It was still pelting away the next morning, when + Jack, alarmed at its fury, bolted his breakfast, and, donning his oilskins + and rubber boots, hurried to the brick office from whose front windows he + could get a view of the fill, the culvert, and the angry stream, and from + whose rear windows could be seen half a mile up the raging torrent, the + curve of the unfinished embankment flanking one side of the new boulevard + which McGowan was building under a contract with the village. + </p> + <p> + Hardly had he slipped off his boots and tarpaulins when MacFarlane, in + mackintosh and long rubber boots, splashed in: + </p> + <p> + “Breen,” said his Chief, loosening the top button of his storm coat and + threshing the water from his cap: + </p> + <p> + Jack was on his feet in an instant: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you would take a look at the boulevard spillway. I know McGowan's + work and how he skins it sometimes, and I'm getting worried. Coggins says + the water is backing up, and that the slopes are giving way. You can see + yourself what a lot of water is coming down—” here they both gazed + through the open window. “I never saw that stream look like that since + I've been here; there must be a frightful pressure now on McGowan's + retaining walls. We should have a close shave if anything gave way above + us. Our own culvert's working all right, but it's taxed now to its + utmost.” + </p> + <p> + Jack unhooked his water-proof from a nail behind the door—he had + began putting on his rubber boots again before MacFarlane finished + speaking. + </p> + <p> + “He will have to pay the bills, sir, if anything gives way—” Jack + replied in a determined voice. “Garry told me only last week that McGowan + had to take care of his own water; that was part of his contract. It comes + under Garry's supervision, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I know, and that may all be so, Breen,” he replied with a flickering + smile, “but it won't do us any good,—or the road either. They want + to run cars next month.” + </p> + <p> + The door again swung wide, and a man drenched to the skin, the water + glistening on his bushy gray beard stepped in. + </p> + <p> + “I heard you were here, sir, and had to see you. There's only four feet + lee-way in our culvert, sir, and the scour's eating into the underpinning; + I am just up from there. We are trying bags of cement, but it doesn't do + much good.” + </p> + <p> + MacFarlane caught up his hat and the two hurried down stream to the + “fill,” while Jack, buttoning his oilskin jacket over his chest, and + crowding his slouch hat close to his eyebrows and ears strode out into the + downpour, his steps bent in the opposite direction. + </p> + <p> + The sight that met his eyes was even more alarming. The once quiet little + stream, with its stretch of meadowland reaching to the foot of the steep + hills, was now a swirl of angry reddish water careering toward the big + culvert under the “fill.” There it struck the two flanking walls of solid + masonry, doubled in volume and thus baffled, shot straight into and under + the culvert and so on over the broad fields below. + </p> + <p> + Up the stream toward the boulevard on the other side of its sky line, + groups of men were already engaged carrying shovels, or lugging pieces of + timber as they hurried along its edge, only to disappear for an instant + and reappear again empty-handed. Shouts could be heard, as if some one + were giving orders. Against the storm-swept sky, McGowan's short, squat + figure was visible, his hands waving wildly to other gangs of men who were + running at full speed toward where he stood. + </p> + <p> + Soon a knife-edge of water glistened along the crest of the earth + embankment supporting the roadway of the boulevard, scattered into a dozen + sluiceways, gashing the sides of the slopes, and then, before Jack could + realize his own danger, the whole mass collapsed only to be swallowed up + in a mighty torrent which leaped straight at him. + </p> + <p> + Jack wheeled suddenly, shouted to a man behind him to run for his life, + and raced on down stream toward the “fill” a mile below where MacFarlane + and his men, unconscious of their danger, were strengthening the culvert + and its approaches. + </p> + <p> + On swept the flood, tearing up trees, cabins, shanties, fences; swirling + along the tortuous bed only to leap and swirl again, its solid front + bristling with the debris it had wrenched loose in its mad onslaught, Jack + in his line of flight keeping abreast of its mighty thrust, shouting as he + ran, pressing into service every man who could help in the rescue. + </p> + <p> + But MacFarlane had already been forewarned. The engineer of the morning + express, who had crossed close to the boulevard at the moment the break + occurred, had leaned far out of his cab as the train thundered by at right + angles to the “fill,” and with cupped hands to his mouth, had hurled this + yell into the ravine: + </p> + <p> + “Water! Look out! Everything busted up above! Water! Water! Run, for God's + sake!” + </p> + <p> + The men stood irresolute, but MacFarlane sprang to instant action. + Grabbing the man next him,—an Italian who understood no English—he + dragged him along, shouting to the others, the crowd swarming up, throwing + away their shovels in their flight until the whole posse reached a point + of safety near the mouth of the tunnel. + </p> + <p> + There he turned and braced himself for the shock. He realized fully what + had happened: McGowan's ill-constructed culvert had sagged and choked; a + huge basin of water had formed behind it; the retaining walls had been + undermined and the whole mass was sweeping down upon him. Would there be + enough of it to overflow the crest line of his own “fill” or not? If it + could stand the first on-thrust there was one chance in a hundred of its + safety, provided the wing-walls and the foundations of the culvert held up + its arch, thus affording gradual relief until the flood should have spent + its force. + </p> + <p> + It was but a question of minutes. He could already see the trees sway as + the mad flood struck them, the smaller ones rebounding, the large ones + toppling over. Then came a dull roar like that of a tram through a covered + bridge, and then a great wall of yellow suds, boiling, curling, its + surface covered with sticks, planks, shingles, floating barrels, parts of + buildings, dashed itself against the smoothed earth slopes of his own + “fill,” surged a third of its height, recoiled on itself, swirled + furiously again, and then inch by inch rose toward the top. Should it + plunge over the crest, the “fill” would melt away as a rising tide melts a + sand fort, the work of months be destroyed, and his financial ruin be a + certainty. + </p> + <p> + But the man who had crawled out on the shore end of the great cantilever + bridge over the Ohio, and who had with his own hands practically set the + last rebellious steel girder one hundred feet above the water level, had + still some resources left. Grabbing a shovel from a railroad employee, he + called to his men and began digging a trench on the tunnel end of the + “fill” to form a temporary spillway should the top of the flood reach the + crest of the road bed. + </p> + <p> + Fifty or more men sprang to his assistance with pick and shovel wherever + one could stand and dig. The water had now reached within five feet of the + top: the rise was slower, showing that the volume had lessened; the + soakage, too, was helping, but the water still gained. The bottom of the + trench, cut transversely across the road bed of the “fill,” out of which + the dirt was still flying from scores of willing shovels, had reached the + height of the flood line. It was wide enough and deep enough to take care + of the slowly rising overflow and would relieve the pressure on the whole + structure; but the danger was not there. What was to be feared was the + scour on the down-stream—far side—slope of the “fill.” This + also, was of loose earth: too great a gulch might mean total collapse. + </p> + <p> + To lessen this scour MacFarlane had looted a carload of plank switched on + to a siding, and a gang of men in charge of Jack,—who had now + reached his Chief's side,—were dragging them along the downstream + slope to form sluices with which to break the force of the scour. + </p> + <p> + The top of the flood now poured into the mouth of the newly dug trench, + biting huge mouthfuls of earth from its sides in its rush; spreading the + reddish water fan-like over the down-stream slope: first into gullies; + then a broad sluiceway that sunk out of sight in the soft earth; then + crumblings, slidings of tons of sand and gravel, with here and there a + bowlder washed clean; the men working like beavers,—here to free a + rock, there to drive home a plank, the trench all the while deepening, + widening—now a gulch ten feet across and as deep, now a canon + through which surged a solid mass of frenzied water. + </p> + <p> + With the completion of the first row of planking MacFarlane took up a + position where he could overlook all parts of the work. Every now and then + his eyes would rest on a water-gauge which he had improvised from the + handle of a pick; the rise and fall of the wet mark showing him both the + danger and the safety lines. He seemed the least interested man in the + group. Once in a while he would consult his watch, counting the seconds, + only to return to the gauge. + </p> + <p> + That thousands of dollars' damage had so far been done did not seem to + affect him in the least. Only when Jack would call out that everything so + far was solid on the main “fill” did his calm face light up. + </p> + <p> + Tightening his wide slouch hat farther down on his head, he drew up the + tops of his high-water boots and strode through the slush to the + pick-handle. His wooden record showed that half an hour before the water + had been rising at the rate of an inch every three minutes; that it had + then taken six, and now required eight! He glanced at the sky; it had + stopped raining and a light was breaking in the West. + </p> + <p> + Pocketing his watch he beckoned to Jack: + </p> + <p> + “The worst is over, Breen,” he said in a voice of perfect calmness—the + tone of a doctor after feeling a patient's pulse. “Our culvert is doing + its work and relieving the pressure. This water will be out of here by + morning. Tell the foreman to keep those planks moving wherever they do any + good, but they won't count much longer. You can see the difference already + in the overflow. And now go up to the house and tell Ruth. She may not + know we are all right and will be worrying.” + </p> + <p> + Jack's heart gave a bound. No more delightful duty could devolve on him. + </p> + <p> + “What shall I tell her about the damage if she asks me, sir?” he demanded, + hiding his pleasure in a perfunctory, businesslike tone, “and she will.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell her it means all summer here for me and no new bonnets for her until + next winter,” replied MacFarlane with a grim smile. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I suppose, but I referred to the money loss,” Jack laughed in reply. + “There is no use worrying her if we are not to blame for this.” He didn't + intend to worry her. He was only feeling about for some topic which would + prolong his visit and encourage conversation. + </p> + <p> + “If we are, it means some thousands of dollars on the wrong side of the + ledger,” answered MacFarlane after a pause, a graver tone in his voice. + “But don't tell Ruth that. Just give her my message about the bonnet—she + will understand.” + </p> + <p> + “But not if McGowan is liable,” argued Jack. If Ruth was to hear bad news + it could at least be qualified. + </p> + <p> + “That depends somewhat on the wording of his contract, Breen, and a good + deal on whether this village wants to hold him to it. I'm not crossing any + bridges of that kind, and don't you. What I'm worrying about is the number + of days and nights it's going to take to patch this work so they can get + trains through our tunnel—And, Breen—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” answered Jack, as he stopped and looked over his shoulder. + There were wings on his feet now. + </p> + <p> + “Get into some dry clothes before you come back.” + </p> + <p> + While all this had been going on Ruth had stood at the window in the upper + hall opposite the one banked with geraniums, too horrified to move. She + had watched with the aid of her opera-glass the wild torrent rushing + through the meadow, and she had heard the shouts of the people in the + streets and the prolonged roar when the boulevard embankment gave way. + </p> + <p> + The hurried entrance and startled cry of the grocer's boy in the kitchen + below, and the loud talk that followed, made her move to the head of the + stairs. There she stood listening, her heart in her mouth, her knees + trembling. Such expressions as “drownded,”—“more'n a hundred of 'em—” + reached her ears. Then came the words—“de boss's work busted; ain't + nobody seen him alive, so dey say.” + </p> + <p> + For an instant she clutched the hand rail to keep her from falling, then + with a cry of terror she caught up an old cloth cape, bound a hat to her + head with a loose veil, and was downstairs and into the street before the + boy had reached the curb. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mum,” he stammered, breathlessly, his eyes bulging from his head,—“Oh! + it's awful, mum! Don't know how many's drownded! Everybody's shovelin' on + de railroad dump, but dere ain't nothin' kin save it, dey say!” + </p> + <p> + She raced on—across the long street, avoiding the puddles as best + she could; past the Hicks Hotel—no sign of Jack anywhere—past + the factory fence, until she reached the railroad, where she stopped, + gathered her bedraggled skirts in her hand and then sped on over the + cross-ties like a swallow, her little feet scarce touching the cinders. + </p> + <p> + Jack had caught sight of the flying girl as she gained the railroad and + awaited her approach; he supposed she was the half-crazed wife or daughter + of some workman, bringing news of fresh disaster, until she approached + near enough for him to note the shape and size of her boots and the way + the hat and veil framed her face. But it was not until she uttered a cry + of agony and ran straight toward him, that he sprang forward to meet her + and caught her in his aims to keep her from falling. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Jack!—where is daddy—where—” she gasped. + </p> + <p> + “Why, he is all right, Miss Ruth,—everybody's all right! Why did you + come here? Oh! I am so sorry you have had this fright! Don't answer,—just + lean on me until you get your breath.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—but are you sure he is safe? The grocer's boy said nobody had + seen him alive.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I am sure! Just look across—there he is; nobody could + ever mistake that old slouch hat of his. And look at the big 'fill.' It + hasn't given an inch, Miss Ruth—think of it! What a shame you have + had such a fright,” he continued as he led her to a pile of lumber beside + the track and moved out a dry plank where he seated her as tenderly as if + she had been a frightened child, standing over her until she breathed + easier. + </p> + <p> + “But then, if he is safe, why did you leave daddy? You are not hurt + yourself, are you?” she exclaimed suddenly, reaching up her hand and + catching the sleeve of his tarpaulin, a great lump in her throat. + </p> + <p> + “Me, hurt!—not a bit of it,—not a scratch of any kind,—see!” + As an object-lesson he stretched out his arm and with one clenched hand + smote his chest gorilla fashion. + </p> + <p> + “But you are all wet—” she persisted, in a more reassured tone. “You + must not stand here in this wind; you will get chilled to the bone. You + must go home and get into dry clothes;—please say you will go?” + </p> + <p> + Something warm and scintillating started from Jack's toes as the words + left her lips, surged along his spinal column, set his finger tips + tingling and his heart thumping like a trip hammer. She had called him + “Jack!” She had run a mile to rescue him and her father, and she was + anxious lest he should endanger his precious life by catching cold. Cold!—had + he been dragged through the whirlpool of Niagara in the dead of winter + with the thermometer at zero and then cast on a stranded iceberg he would + now be sizzling hot. + </p> + <p> + Again she repeated her command,—this time in a more peremptory tone, + the same anxious note in her voice. + </p> + <p> + “Please come, if daddy doesn't want you any more you must go home at once. + I wouldn't have you take cold for—” she did not finish the sentence; + something in his face told her that her solicitude might already have + betrayed her. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, I will go just as soon as you are rested a little, but you + mustn't worry about me, Miss Ruth, I am as wet as a rat, I know, but I am + that way half the time when it rains. These tarpaulins let in a lot of + water—” here he lifted his arms so she could see the openings + herself—“and then I got in over my boots trying to plug the holes in + the sluiceway with some plank.” He was looking down into her eyes now. + Never had he seen her so pretty. The exercise had made roses of her + cheeks, and the up-turned face framed by the thatch of a bonnet bound with + the veil, reminded him of a Madonna. + </p> + <p> + “And is everything all right with daddy? And was there nobody in the + shanties?” she went on. “Perhaps I might better try to get over where he + is;—do you think I can? I would just like to tell him how glad I am + it is no worse.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if you change boots with me,” laughed Jack, determined to divert her + mind; “I was nearly swamped getting back here. That is where most of this + mud came from—” and Jack turned his long, clay-encrusted boot so + that Ruth could see how large a section of the “fill” he had brought with + him. + </p> + <p> + Ruth began to laugh. There was no ostensible reason why she should laugh; + there was nothing about Jack's make-up to cause it. Indeed, she thought he + had never looked so handsome, even if his hair were plastered to his + temples under his water-soaked hat and his clothes daubed with mud. + </p> + <p> + And yet she did laugh:—At the way her veil got knotted under her + chin,—so tightly knotted that Jack had to take both hands to loosen + it, begging pardon for touching her throat, and hoping all the while that + his clumsy fingers had not hurt her;—at the way her hat was + crumpled, the flowers “never,—never, being of the slightest use to + anybody again”; at her bedraggled skirts—“such a sight, and sopping + wet.” + </p> + <p> + And Jack laughed, too,—agreeing to everything she said, until she + reached that stage in the conversation, never omitted on occasions of this + kind, when she declared, arching her head, that she must look like a + perfect fright, which Jack at once refuted exclaiming that he had never + seen her look so—he was going to say “pretty,” but checked himself + and substituted “well,” instead, adding, as he wiped off her ridiculously + small boots, despite her protests, with his wet handkerchief,—that + cloud-bursts were not such bad things, after all, now that he was to have + the pleasure of escorting her home. + </p> + <p> + And so the two walked back to the village, the afternoon sun, which had + now shattered the lowering clouds, gilding and glorifying their two faces, + Jack stopping at Mrs. Hicks's to change his clothes and Ruth keeping on to + the house, where he was to join her an hour later, when the two would have + a cup of tea and such other comforts as that young lady might prepare for + her water-soaked lover. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI + </h2> + <p> + If ten minutes make half an hour, then it took Jack that long to rush + upstairs, two steps at a time, burst into his room, strip off his boots, + tear off his wet clothes, struggle into others jerked from his wardrobe, + tie a loose, red-silk scarf under the rolling collar of his light-blue + flannel shirt, slip into a grey pea-jacket and unmentionables, give his + hair a brush and a promise, tilt a dry hat on one side of his head and + skip down-stairs again. + </p> + <p> + Old Mrs. Hicks had seen him coming and had tried to catch him as he flew + out the door, hoping to get some more definite news of the calamity which + had stirred the village, but he was gone before she could reach the front + hall. + </p> + <p> + He had not thought of his better clothes; there might still be work to do, + and his Chief might again need his services. Ruth would understand, he + said to himself—all of which was true. Indeed, she liked him better + in his high-water rubber boots, wide slouch hat and tarpaulins than in the + more conventional suit of immaculate black with which he clothed his + shapely body whenever he took her to one of the big dinners at one of the + great houses on Washington Square. + </p> + <p> + And she liked this suit best of all. She had been peeping through the + curtains and her critical admiring eyes had missed no detail. She saw that + the cavalier boots were gone, but she recognized the short pea-jacket and + the loose rolling collar of the soft flannel shirt circling the strong, + bronzed throat, and the dash of red in the silken scarf. + </p> + <p> + And so it is not surprising that when he got within sight of her windows, + his cheeks aflame with the crisp air, his eyes snapping with the joy of + once more hearing her voice, her heart should have throbbed with an + undefinable happiness and pride as she realized that for a time, at least, + he was to be all her own. And yet when he had again taken her hand—the + warmth of his last pressure still lingered in her palm—and had + looked into her eyes and had said how he hoped he had not kept her + waiting, all she could answer in reply was the non-committal remark: + </p> + <p> + “Well, now you look something like”—at which Jack's heart gave a + great bound, any compliment, however slight, being so much manna to his + hungry soul; Ruth adding, as she led the way into the sitting-room, “I + lighted the wood fire because I was afraid you might still be cold.” + </p> + <p> + And ten minutes had been enough for Ruth. + </p> + <p> + It had been one of those lightning changes which a pretty girl can always + make when her lover is expected any instant and she does not want to lose + a moment of his time, but it had sufficed. Something soft and clinging it + was now; her lovely, rounded figure moving in its folds as a mermaid moves + in the surf; her hair shaken out and caught up again in all its delicious + abandon; her cheeks, lips, throat, rose-color in the joy of her + expectancy. + </p> + <p> + He sat drinking it all in. Had a mass of outdoor roses been laid by his + side, their fragrance filling the air, the beauty of their coloring + entrancing his soul, he could not have been more intoxicated by their + beauty. + </p> + <p> + And yet, strange to say, only commonplaces rose to his lips. All the + volcano beneath, and only little spats of smoke and dying bits of ashes in + evidence! Even the message of his Chief about her not getting a new bonnet + all summer seemed a godsend under the circumstances. Had there been any + basis for her self-denial he would not have told her, knowing how much + anxiety she had suffered an hour before. But there was no real good reason + why she should economize either in bonnets or in anything else she wanted. + McGowan, of course, would be held responsible; for whatever damage had + been done he would have to pay. He had been present when the young + architect's watchful and trained eye had discovered some defects in the + masonry of the wing walls of the McGowan culvert bridging the stream, and + had heard him tell the contractor, in so many words that if the water got + away and smashed anything below him he would charge the loss to his + account. McGowan had groveled in dissent, but it had made no impression on + Garry, whose duty it was to see that the work was properly carried out and + whose signature loosened the village purse strings. + </p> + <p> + None of these details would interest Ruth; nor was it necessary that they + should. The bonnet, however, was another matter. Bonnets were worn over + pretty heads and framed lovely hair and faces and eyes—one + especially! And then again any pleasantry of her father's would tend to + relieve her mind after the anxiety of the morning. Yes, the bonnet by all + means! + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I never gave you your father's message,” he began, laying aside his + cup, quite as if he had just remembered it. “I ought to have done so + before you hung up the hat you wore a while ago.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth looked up, smiling: “Why?” There was a roguish expression about her + mouth as she spoke. She was very happy this afternoon. + </p> + <p> + “He says you won't get a new bonnet all summer,” continued Jack, toying + with the end of the ribbon that floated from her waist. + </p> + <p> + Ruth put down her cup and half rose from her chair All the color had faded + from her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Did he tell you that?” she cried, her eyes staring into his, her voice + trembling as if from some sudden fright. + </p> + <p> + Jack gazed at her in wonderment: + </p> + <p> + “Yes—of course he did and—Why, Miss Ruth!—Why, what's + the matter! Have I said anything that—” + </p> + <p> + “Then something serious has happened,” she interrupted in a decided tone. + “That is always his message to me when he is in trouble. That is what he + telegraphed me when he lost the coffer-dam in the Susquehanna. Oh!—he + did not really tell you that, did he, Mr. Breen?” The old anxious note had + returned—the one he had heard at the “fill.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—but nothing serious HAS happened, Miss Ruth,” Jack persisted, + his voice rising in the intensity of his conviction, his earnest, truthful + eyes fixed on hers—“nothing that will not come out all right in the + end. Please, don't be worried, I know what I am talking about.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, it is serious,” she rejoined with equal positiveness. “You do + not know daddy. Nothing ever discourages him, and he meets everything with + a smile—but he cannot stand any more losses. The explosion was bad + enough, but if this 'fill' is to be rebuilt, I don't know what will be the + end of it. Tell me over again, please—how did he look when he said + it?—and give me just the very words. Oh, dear, dear daddy! What will + he do?” The anxious note had now fallen to one of the deepest suffering. + </p> + <p> + Jack repeated the message word for word, all his tenderness in his tones—patting + her shoulder in his effort to comfort her—ending with a minute + explanation of what Garry had told him: but Ruth would not be convinced. + </p> + <p> + “But you don't know daddy,” she kept repeating “You don't know him. Nobody + does but me. He would not have sent that message had he not meant it. + Listen! There he is now!” she cried, springing to her feet. + </p> + <p> + She had her arms around her father's neck, her head nestling on his + shoulder before he had fairly entered the door. “Daddy, dear, is it very + bad?” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Pretty bad, little girl,” he answered, smoothing her cheek tenderly with + his chilled fingers as he moved with her toward the fire, “but it might + have been worse but for the way Breen handled the men.” + </p> + <p> + “And will it all have to be rebuilt?” + </p> + <p> + She was glad for Jack, but it was her father who now filled her mind. + </p> + <p> + “That I can't tell, Puss”—one of his pet names for her, particularly + when she needed comforting—“but it's safe for the night, anyway.” + </p> + <p> + “And you have worked so hard—so hard!” Her beautiful arms, bare from + the elbow, were still around his neck, her cheek pressed close—her + lovely, clinging body in strong contrast to the straight, gray, forceful + man in the wet storm-coat, who stood with arms about her while he caressed + her head with his brown fingers. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Puss, we have one consolation—it wasn't our fault—the + 'fill' is holding splendidly although it has had a lively shaking up. The + worst was over in ten minutes, but it was pretty rough while it lasted. I + don't think I ever saw water come so fast. I saw you with Breen, but I + couldn't reach you then. Look out for your dress, daughter. I'm pretty + wet.” + </p> + <p> + He released her arms from his neck and walked toward the fire, stripping + off his gray mackintosh as he moved. There he stretched his hands to the + blaze sod went on: “As I say, the 'fill' is safe and will stay so, for the + water is going down rapidly; dropped ten feet, Breen, since you left. My!—but + this fire feels good! Got into something dry—did you, Breen? That's + right. But I am not satisfied about the way the down-stream end of the + culvert acts”—this also was addressed to Jack—“I am afraid + some part of the arch has caved in. It will be bad if it has—we + shall know in the morning. You weren't frightened, Puss, were you?” + </p> + <p> + She did not answer. She had heard that cheery, optimistic note in her + father's voice before; she knew how much of it was meant for her ears. + None of his disasters were ever serious, to hear daddy talk—“only + the common lot of the contracting engineer, little girl,” he would say, + kissing her good-night, while he again pored over his plans, sometimes + until daylight. + </p> + <p> + She crept up to him the closer and nestled her fingers inside his collar—an + old caress of hers when she was a child, then looking up into his eyes she + asked with almost a throb of suffering in her voice, “Is it as bad as the + coffer-dam, daddy?” + </p> + <p> + Jack looked on in silence. He dared not add a word of comfort of his own + while his Chief held first place in soothing her fears. + </p> + <p> + MacFarlane passed his hand over her forehead—“Don't ask me, child! + Why do you want to bother your dear head over such things, Puss?” he + asked, as he stroked her hair. + </p> + <p> + “Because I must and will know. Tell me the truth,” she demanded, lifting + her head, a note of resolve in her voice. “I can help you the better if I + know it all.” Some of the blood of one of her great-great-grandmothers, + who had helped defend a log-house in Indian times, was asserting itself. + She could weep, but she could fight, too, if necessary. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, I'm afraid it is worse than the coffer-dam,” he answered in + all seriousness. “It may be a matter of twelve or fifteen thousand dollars—maybe + more, if we have to rebuild the 'fill.' I can't tell yet.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth released her grasp, moved to the sofa and sank down, her chin resting + on her hand. Twelve or fifteen thousand dollars! This meant ruin to + everybody—to her father, to—a new terror now flashed into her + mind—to Jack—yes, Jack! Jack would have to go away and find + other work—and just at the time, too, when he was getting to be the + old Jack once more. With this came another thought, followed by an + instantaneous decision—what could she do to help? Already she had + determined on her course. She would work—support herself—relieve + her father just that much. + </p> + <p> + An uncomfortable silence followed. For some moments no one spoke. Her + father, stifling a sigh, turned slowly, pushed a chair to the fire and + settled into it, his rubber-encased knees wide apart, so that the warmth + of the blaze could reach most of his body. Jack found a seat beside him, + his mind on Ruth and her evident suffering, his ears alert for any fresh + word from his Chief. + </p> + <p> + “I forgot to tell you, Breen,” MacFarlane said at last, “that I came up + the track just now as far as the round-house with the General Manager of + the Road. He has sent one of his engineers to look after that Irishman's + job before he can pull it to pieces to hide his rotten work—that is, + what is left of it. Of course it means a lawsuit or a fight in the Village + Council. That takes time and money, and generally costs more than you get. + I've been there before, Breen, and know.” + </p> + <p> + “Does he understand about McGowan's contract?” inquired Jack mechanically, + his eyes on Ruth. Her voice still rang in his ears—its pathos and + suffering stirred him to his very depths. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—I told him all about it,” MacFarlane replied. “The Road will + stand behind us—so the General Manager says—but every day's + delay is ruinous to them. It will be night-and-day work for us now, and no + let-up. I have notified the men.” He rose from his seat and crossed to his + daughter's side, and leaning over, drew her toward him: “Brace up, little + girl,” there was infinite tenderness in his cadences—“it's all in a + lifetime. There are only two of us, you know—just you and me, + daughter—just you and me—just two of us. Kiss me, Puss.” + </p> + <p> + Regaining his full height he picked up his storm-coat from the chair where + he had flung it, and with the remark to Jack, that he would change his + clothes, moved toward the door. There he beckoned to him, waited until he + had reached his side, and whispering in his ear: “Talk to her and cheer + her up, Breen. Poor little girl—she worries so when anything like + this happens”—mounted the stairs to his room. + </p> + <p> + “Don't worry, Miss Ruth,” said Jack in comforting tones as he returned to + where she sat. “We will all pull out yet.” + </p> + <p> + “It is good of you to say so,” she replied, lifting her head and leaning + back so that she could look into his eyes the better, “but I know you + don't think so. Daddy was just getting over his losses on the Susquehanna + bridge. This work would have set him on his feet. Those were his very + words—and he was getting so easy in his mind, too—and we had + planned so many things!” + </p> + <p> + “But you can still go to Newport,” Jack pleaded. “We will be here some + months yet, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh—but I won't go a step anywhere. I could not leave him now—that + is, not as long as I can help him.” + </p> + <p> + “But aren't you going to the Fosters' and Aunt Felicia's?” She might not + be, but it was good all the same to hear her deny it. + </p> + <p> + “Not to anybody's!” she replied, with an emphasis that left no doubt in + his mind. + </p> + <p> + Jack's heart gave a bound. + </p> + <p> + “But you were going if we went to Morfordsburg,” he persisted. He was + determined to get at the bottom of all his misgivings. Perhaps, after all, + Peter was right. + </p> + <p> + Ruth caught her breath. The name of the town had reopened a vista which + her anxiety over her father's affairs had for the moment shut out. + </p> + <p> + “Well, but that is over now. I am going to stay here and help daddy.” + Again the new fear tugged at her heart. “You are going to stay, too, + aren't you, Mr. Breen?” she added in quick alarm. “You won't leave him, + will you?—not if—” again the terrible money loss rose before + her. What if there should not be money enough to pay Jack? + </p> + <p> + “Me! Why, Miss Ruth!” + </p> + <p> + “But suppose he was not able to—” she could not frame the rest of + the sentence. + </p> + <p> + “You can't suppose anything that would make me leave him, or the work.” + This also came with an emphasis of positive certainty. “I have never been + so happy as I have been here. I never knew what it was to be myself. I + never knew,” he added in softened tones, “what it was to really live until + I joined your father. Only last night Uncle Peter and I were talking about + it. 'Stick to Mac,' the dear old fellow said.” It was to Ruth, but he + dared not express himself, except in parables. “Then you HAD thought of + going?” she asked quickly, a shadow falling across her face. + </p> + <p> + “No—” he hesitated—“I had only thought of STAYING. It was you + who were going—I was all broken up about being left here alone, and + Uncle Peter wanted to know why I did not beg you to stay, and I—” + </p> + <p> + Ruth turned her face toward him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I am going to stay,” she answered simply. She did not dare to trust + herself further. + </p> + <p> + “Yes!—and now I don't care what happens!” he exclaimed with a thrill + in his voice. “If you will only trust me, Miss Ruth, and let me come in + with you and your father. Let me help! Don't let there be only two—let + us be three! Don't you see what a difference it would make? I will work + and save every penny I can for him and take every bit of the care from his + shoulders; but can't you understand how much easier it would be if you + would only let me help you too? I could hardly keep the tears back a + moment ago when I saw you sink down here. I can't see you unhappy like + this and not try to comfort you.” + </p> + <p> + “You do help me,” she murmured softly. Her eyes had now dropped to the + cushion at her side. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but not—Oh, Ruth, don't you see how I love you! What + difference does this accident make—what difference does anything + make if we have each other?” He had his hand on hers now, and was bending + over, his eyes eager for some answer in her own. “I have suffered so,” he + went on, “and I am so tired and so lonely without you. When you wouldn't + understand me that time when I came to you after the tunnel blew up, I + went about like one in a dream—and then I determined to forget it + all, and you, and everything—but I couldn't, and I can't now. Maybe + you won't listen—but please—” + </p> + <p> + Ruth withdrew her hand quickly and straightened her shoulders. The mention + of the tunnel and what followed had brought with it a rush of memories + that had caused her the bitterest tears of her life. And then again what + did he mean by “helping”? + </p> + <p> + “Jack,” she said slowly, as if every word gave her pain, “listen to me. + When you saved my father's life and I wanted to tell you how much I + thanked you for it, you would not let me tell you. Is not that true?” + </p> + <p> + “I did not want your gratitude, Ruth,” he pleaded in excuse, his lips + quivering, “I wanted your love.” + </p> + <p> + “And why, then, should I not say to you now that I do not want your pity? + Is it because you are—” her voice sank to a whisper, every note told + of her suffering—“you are—sorry for me, Jack, that you tell me + you love me?” + </p> + <p> + Jack sprang to his feet and stood looking down upon her. The cruelty of + her injustice smote his heart. Had a man's glove been dashed in his face + he could not have been more incensed. For a brief moment there surged + through him all he had suffered for her sake; the sleepless nights, the + days of doubts and misunderstandings! And it had come to this! Again he + was treated with contempt—again his heart and all it held was + trampled on. A wild protest rose in his throat and trembled on his lips. + </p> + <p> + At that instant she raised her eyes and looked into his. A look so + pleading—so patient—so weary of the struggle—so ready to + receive the blow—that the hot words recoiled in his throat. He bent + his head to search her eyes the better. Down in their depths, as one sees + the bottom of a clear pool he read the truth, and with it came a reaction + that sent the hot blood rushing through his veins. + </p> + <p> + “Sorry for you, my darling!” he burst out joyously—“I who love you + like my own soul! Oh, Ruth!—Ruth!—my beloved!” + </p> + <p> + He had her in his arms now, her cheek to his, her yielding body held + close. + </p> + <p> + Then their lips met. + </p> + <p> + The Scribe lays down his pen. This be holy ground on which we tread. All + she has she has given him: all the fantasies of her childhood, all the + dreams of her girlhood, all her trust, her loyalty—her reverence—all + to the very last pulsation of her being. + </p> + <p> + And this girl he holds in his arms! So pliant, so yielding, so pure and + undefiled! And the silken sheen and intoxicating perfume of her hair, and + the trembling lashes shading the eager, longing, soul-hungry eyes; and the + way the little pink ears nestle; and the fair, white, dovelike throat, + with its ripple of lace. And then the dear arms about his neck and the + soft clinging fingers that are intertwined with his own! And more + wonderful still, the perfect unison, the oneness, the sameness; no jar, no + discordant note; mind, soul, desire—a harmony. + </p> + <p> + The wise men say there are no parallels in nature; that no one thing in + the wide universe exactly mates and matches any other one thing; that each + cloud has differed from every other cloud-form in every hour of the day + and night, to-day, yesterday and so on back through the forgotten + centuries; that no two leaves in form, color, or texture, lift the same + faces to the sun on any of the million trees; that no wave on any beach + curves and falls as any wave has curved and fallen before—not since + the planet cooled. And so it is with the drift of wandering winds; with + the whirl and crystals of driving snow, with the slant and splash of rain. + And so, too, with the flight of birds; the dash and tumble of restless + brooks; the roar of lawless thunder and the songs of birds. + </p> + <p> + The one exception is when we hold in our arms the woman we love, and for + the first time drink in her willing soul through her lips. Then, and only + then, does the note of perfect harmony ring true through the spheres. + </p> + <p> + For a long time they sat perfectly still. Not many words had passed, and + these were only repetitions of those they had used before. “Such dear + hands,” Jack would say, and kiss them both up and down the fingers, and + then press the warm, pink shell palm to his lips and kiss it again, + shutting his eyes, with the reverence of a devotee at the feet of the + Madonna. + </p> + <p> + “And, Jack dear,” Ruth would murmur, as if some new thought had welled up + in her heart—and then nothing would follow, until Jack would loosen + his clasp a little—just enough to free the dear cheek and say: + </p> + <p> + “Go on, my darling,” and then would come— + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing, Jack—I—” and once more their lips would meet. + </p> + <p> + It was only when MacFarlane's firm step was heard on the stairs outside + that the two awoke to another world. Jack reached his feet first. + </p> + <p> + “Shall we tell him?” he asked, looking down into her face. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, tell him,” braved out Ruth, uptilting her head with the + movement of a fawn surprised in the forest. + </p> + <p> + “When?” asked Jack, his eager eyes on the opening door. + </p> + <p> + “Now, this very minute. I never keep anything from daddy.” + </p> + <p> + MacFarlane came sauntering in, his strong, determined, finely cut features + illumined by a cheery smile. He had squared things with himself while he + had been dressing: “Hard lines, Henry, isn't it?” he had asked of himself, + a trick of his when he faced any disaster like the present. “Better get + Ruth off somewhere, Henry, don't you think so? Yes, get her off to-morrow. + The little girl can't stand everything, plucky as she is.” It was this + last thought of his daughter that had sent the cheery smile careering + around his firm lips. No glum face for Ruth! + </p> + <p> + They met him half-way down the room, the two standing together, Jack's arm + around her waist. + </p> + <p> + “Daddy!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear.” He had not yet noted the position of the two, although he had + caught the joyous tones in her voice. + </p> + <p> + “Jack and I want to tell you something. You won't be cross, will you?” + </p> + <p> + “Cross, Puss!” He stopped and looked at her wonderingly. Had Jack + comforted her? Was she no longer worried over the disaster? + </p> + <p> + Jack released his arm and would have stepped forward, but she held him + back. + </p> + <p> + “No, Jack,—let me tell him. You said a while ago, daddy, that there + were only two of us—just you and I—and that it had always been + so and—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, isn't it true, little girl?” It's extraordinary how blind and + stupid a reasonably intelligent father can be on some occasions, and this + one was as blind as a cave-locked fish. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it WAS true, daddy, when you went upstairs, but—but—it + isn't true any more! There are three of us now!” She was trembling all + over with uncontrollable joy, her voice quavering in her excitement. + </p> + <p> + Again Jack tried to speak, but she laid her hand on his lips with— + </p> + <p> + “No, please don't, Jack—not yet—you will spoil everything.” + </p> + <p> + MacFarlane still looked on in wonderment. She was much happier, he could + see, and he was convinced that Jack was in some way responsible for the + change, but it was all a mystery yet. + </p> + <p> + “Three of us!” MacFarlane repeated mechanically—“well, who is the + other, Puss?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Jack, of course! Who else could it be but Jack? Oh! Daddy!—Please—please—we + love each other so!” + </p> + <p> + That night a telegram went singing down the wires leaving a trail of light + behind. A sleepy, tired girl behind an iron screen recorded it on a slip + of yellow paper, enclosed it in an envelope, handed it to a half-awake + boy, who strolled leisurely up to Union Square, turned into Fifteenth + Street, mounted Peter's front stoop and so on up three flights of stairs + to Peter's door. There he awoke the echoes into life with his knuckles. + </p> + <p> + In answer, a charming and most courtly old gentleman in an embroidered + dressing-gown and slippers, a pair of gold spectacles pushed high up on + his round, white head, his index finger marking the place in his book, + opened the door. + </p> + <p> + “Telegram for Mr. Grayson,” yawned the boy. + </p> + <p> + Ah! but there were high jinks inside the cosey red room with its low + reading lamp and easy chairs, when Peter tore that envelope apart. + </p> + <p> + “Jack—Ruth—engaged!” he cried, throwing down his book. + “MacFarlane delighted—What!—WHAT? Oh, Jack, you rascal!—you + did take my advice, did you? Well I—well! I'll write them both—No, + I'll telegraph Felicia—No, I won't!—I'll—Well!—well!—WELL! + Did you ever hear anything like that?” and again his eyes devoured the + yellow slip. + </p> + <p> + Not a word of the freshet; of the frightful loss; of the change of plans + for the summer; of the weeks of delay and the uncertain financial outlook! + And alas, dear reader—not a syllable, as you have perhaps noticed, + of poor daddy tottering on the brink of bankruptcy; nor the slightest + reference to brave young women going out alone in the cold, cold world to + earn their bread! What were floods, earthquakes, cyclones, poverty, debt—what + was anything that might, could, would or should happen, compared to the + joy of their plighted troth! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII + </h2> + <p> + Summer has come: along the banks of the repentant stream the willows are + in full leaf; stretches of grass, braving the coal smoke and dust hide the + ugly red earth. The roads are dry again; the slopes of the “fill” once + more are true; all the arches in the mouth of the tunnel are finished; the + tracks have been laid and the first train has crawled out on the newly + tracked road where it haggled, snorted and stopped, only to crawl back and + be swallowed by The Beast. + </p> + <p> + And with the first warm day came Miss Felicia. “When your wretched, + abominable roads, my dear, dry up so that a body can walk without sinking + up to their neck in mud—” ran Miss Felicia's letter in answer to + Ruth's invitation,—“I'll come down for the night,” and she did, + bringing Ruth half of her laces, now that she was determined to throw + herself away on “that good-for nothing—Yes, Jack, I mean you and + nobody else, and you needn't stand there laughing at me, for every word of + it's true; for what in the world you two babes in the wood are going to + live on no mortal man knows;” Ruth answering with her arm tight around the + dear lady's neck,—a liberty nobody,—not even Peter, ever dared + take—and a whisper in her ear that Jack was the blessedest ever, and + that she loved him so sometimes she was well-nigh distracted—a + statement which the old lady remarked was literally true. + </p> + <p> + And we may be sure that Peter came too—and we may be equally + positive that no impassable roads could have held him back. Indeed, on the + very afternoon of the very day following the receipt of the joyful + telegram, he had closed his books with a bang, performed the Moses act + until he had put them into the big safe, slipped on his coat, given an + extra brush to his hat and started for the ferry. All that day his face + had been in a broad smile; even the old book-keeper noticed it and so did + Patrick, the night-watchman and sometimes porter; and so did the line of + depositors who inched along to his window and were greeted with a + flash-light play of humor on his face instead of the more sedate, though + equally kindly expression which always rested on his features when at + work. But that was nothing to the way he hugged Jack and Ruth—separately—together—then + Ruth, then Jack—and then both together again, only stopping at + MacFarlane, whose hand he grabbed with a “Great day! hey? Great day! By + Cricky, Henry, these are the things that put new wine into old leather + bottles like you and me.” + </p> + <p> + And this was not all that the spring and summer had brought. Fresh sap had + risen in Jack's veins. This girl by his side was his own—something + to work for—something to fight for. MacFarlane felt the expansion + and put him in full charge of the work, relieving him often in the night + shifts, when the boy would catch a few hours' sleep, and when, you may be + sure, he stopped long enough at the house to get his arms around Ruth + before he turned in for the night or the morning, or whenever he did turn + in. + </p> + <p> + As to the injury which McGowan's slipshod work had caused to the “fill,” + the question of damages and responsibility for the same still hung in the + air. The “fill” did not require rebuilding—nor did any part of the + main work—a great relief. The loss had not, therefore, been as great + as MacFarlane had feared. Moreover, the scour and slash of the down-stream + slope, thanks to Jack's quick work, required but few weeks to repair; the + culvert, contrary to everybody's expectation, standing the test, and the + up-stream slope showing only here and there marks of the onslaught. The + wing walls were the worst; these had to be completely rebuilt, involving + an expense of several thousands of dollars, the exact amount being one + point in the discussion. + </p> + <p> + Garry, to his credit, had put his official foot down with so strong a + pressure that McGowan, fearing that he would have to reconstruct + everything from the bed of the stream up, if he held out any longer, + agreed to arbitrate the matter, he selecting one expert and MacFarlane the + other; and the Council—that is, Garry—the third. MacFarlane + had chosen the engineer of the railroad who had examined McGowan's masonry + an hour after the embankment had given way. McGowan picked out a brother + contractor and Garry wrote a personal letter to Holker Morris, following + it up by a personal visit to the office of the distinguished architect, + who, when he learned that not only Garry, MacFarlane, and Jack were + concerned in the outcome of the investigation, but also Ruth—whose + marriage might depend on the outcome,—broke his invariable rule of + never getting mixed up in anybody's quarrels, and accepted the position + without a murmur. + </p> + <p> + This done everybody interested sat down to await the result of the + independent investigations of each expert, Garry receiving the reports in + sealed envelopes and locking them in the official safe, to be opened in + full committee at its next monthly meeting, when a final report, with + recommendations as to liability and costs, would be drawn up; the same, + when adopted by a majority of the Council the following week, to be + binding. + </p> + <p> + It was during this suspense—it happened really on the morning + succeeding the one on which Garry had opened the official envelopes—that + an envelope of quite a different character was laid on Jack's table by the + lady with the adjustable hair, who invariably made herself acquainted with + as much of that young gentleman's mail as could be gathered from square + envelopes sealed in violet wax, or bearing family crests in low relief, or + stamped with monograms in light blue giving out delicate perfumes, each + one of which that lady sniffed with great satisfaction; to say nothing of + business addresses and postal-cards,—the latter being readable, and, + therefore, her delight. + </p> + <p> + This envelope, however, was different from any she had ever fumbled, + sniffed at, or pondered over. It was not only of unusual size, but it bore + in the upper left-hand corner in bold black letters the words: + </p> + <p> + ARTHUR BREEN & COMPANY, BANKERS. + </p> + <p> + It was this last word which set the good woman to thinking. Epistles from + banks were not common,—never found at all, in fact, among the + letters of her boarders. + </p> + <p> + Jack was even more astonished. + </p> + <p> + “Call at the office,” the letter ran, “the first time you are in New York,—the + sooner the better. I have some information regarding the ore properties + that may interest you.” + </p> + <p> + As the young fellow had not heard from his uncle in many moons, the + surprise was all the greater. Nor, if the truth be known, had he laid eyes + on that gentleman since he left the shelter of his home, except at + Corinne's wedding,—and then only across the church, and again in the + street, when his uncle stopped and shook his hand in a rather perfunctory + way, complimenting him on his bravery in rescuing MacFarlane, an account + of which he had seen in the newspapers, and ending by hoping that his new + life would “drop some shekels into his clothes.” Mrs. Breen, on the + contrary, while she had had no opportunity of expressing her mental + attitude toward the exile, never having seen him since he walked out of + her front door, was by no means oblivious to Jack's social and business + successes. “I hear Jack was at Mrs. Portman's last night,” she said to her + husband the morning after one of the ex-Clearing House Magnate's great + receptions. “They say he goes everywhere, and that Mr. Grayson has adopted + him and is going to leave him all his money,” to which Breen had grunted + back that Jack was welcome to the Portmans and the Portmans to Jack, and + that if old Grayson had any money, which he very much doubted, he'd better + hoist it overboard than give it to that rattlebrain. Mrs. Breen heaved a + deep sigh. Neither she nor Breen had been invited to the Portmans', nor + had Corinne (the Scribe has often wondered whether the second scoop in + Mukton was the cause)—and yet Ruth MacFarlane, and Jack and Miss + Felicia Grayson, and a lot more out-of-town people—so that + insufferable Mrs. Bennett had told her—had come long distances to be + present, the insufferable adding significantly that “Miss MacFarlane + looked too lovely and was by all odds the prettiest girl in the room, and + as for young Breen, really she could have fallen in love with him + herself!” + </p> + <p> + Jack tucked his uncle's letter in his pocket, skipped over to read it to + Ruth and MacFarlane, in explanation of his enforced absence for the day, + and kept on his way to the station. The missive referred to the + Morfordsburg contract, of course, and was evidently an attempt to gain + information regarding the proposed work, Arthur Breen & Co. being the + financial agents of many similar properties. + </p> + <p> + “I will take care of him, sir,” Jack had said as he left his Chief. “My + uncle, no doubt, means all right, and it is just as well to hear what he + says—besides he has been good enough to write to me, and of course I + must go, but I shall not commit myself one way or the other—” and + with a whispered word in Ruth's ear, a kiss and a laugh, he left the + house. + </p> + <p> + As he turned down the short street leading to the station, he caught sight + of Garry forging ahead on his way to the train. That rising young + architect, chairman of the Building Committee of the Council, trustee of + church funds, politician and all-round man of the world—most of + which he carried in a sling—seemed in a particularly happy frame of + mind this morning judging from the buoyancy with which he stepped. This + had communicated itself to the gayety of his attire, for he was dressed in + a light-gray check suit, and wore a straw hat (the first to see the light + of summer) with a green ribbon about the crown,—together with a + white waistcoat and white spats, the whole enriched by a red rose bud + which Corinne had with her own hands pinned in his buttonhole. + </p> + <p> + “Why, hello! Jack, old man! just the very fellow I'm looking for,” cried + the joyous traveller. “You going to New York?—So am I,—go + every day now,—got something on ice,—the biggest thing I've + ever struck. I'll show that uncle of yours that two can play at his game. + He hasn't lifted his hand to help us, and I don't want him to,—Cory + and I can get along; but you'd think he'd come out and see us once in a + while, wouldn't you, or ask after the baby; Mrs. Breen comes, but not + Breen. We live in the country and have tar on our heels, he thinks. Here,—sit + by the window! Now let's talk of something else. How's Miss Ruth and the + governor? He's a daisy;—best engineer anywhere round here. Yes, + Cory's all right. Baby keeps her awake half the night; I've moved out and + camp upstairs; can't stand it. Oh, by the way, I see you are about + finishing up on the railroad work. I'll have something to say to you next + week on the damage question. Got all the reports in last night. I tell + you, my old chief, Mr. Morris, is a corker! What he doesn't know about + masonry isn't worth picking up;—can't fool him! That's what's the + matter with half of our younger men; they sharpen lead-pencils, mix ink, + and think they are drawing; or they walk down a stone wall and don't know + any more what's behind it and what holds it up than a child. Mr. Morris + can not only design a wall, but he can teach some first-class mechanics + how to lay it.” + </p> + <p> + Jack looked out the window and watched the fences fly past. For the moment + he made no reply to Garry's long harangue—especially the part + referring to the report. Anxious as he was to learn the result of the + award, he did not want the facts from the chairman of the committee in + advance of the confirmation by the Council. + </p> + <p> + “What is it you have on ice, Garry?” he asked at last with a laugh, + yielding to an overpowering conviction that he must change the subject—“a + new Corn Exchange? Nobody can beat you in corn exchanges.” + </p> + <p> + “Not by a long shot, Jack,—got something better; I am five thousand + ahead now, and it's all velvet.” + </p> + <p> + “Gold-mine, Garry?” queried Jack, turning his head. “Another Mukton Lode? + Don't forget poor Charlie Gilbert; he's been clerking it ever since, I + hear.” + </p> + <p> + “No, a big warehouse company; I'll get the buildings later on. That Mukton + Lode deal was a clear skin game, Jack, if it is your uncle, and A. B. + & Co. got paid up for it—downtown and uptown. You ought to hear + the boys at the Magnolia talk about it. My scheme is not that kind; I'm on + the ground floor; got some of the promoter's stock. When you are through + with your railroad contract and get your money, let me know. I can show + you a thing or two;—open your eyes! No Wall Street racket, remember,—just + a plain business deal.” + </p> + <p> + “There won't be much money left over, Garry, from the 'fill' and tunnel + work, if we keep on. We ought to have a cyclone next to finish up with; + we've had about everything else.” + </p> + <p> + “You're all through, Jack,” replied Garry with emphasis. + </p> + <p> + “I'll believe that when I see it,” said Jack with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you, Jack, YOU ARE ALL THROUGH. Do you understand? Don't ask me + any questions and I won't tell you any lies. The first thing that strikes + you will be a check, and don't you forget it!” + </p> + <p> + Jack's heart gave a bound. The information had come as a surprise and + without his aid, and yet it was none the less welcome. The dreaded anxiety + was over; he knew now what the verdict of the Council would be. He had + been right from the first in this matter, and Garry had not failed despite + the strong political pressure which must have been brought against him. + The new work now would go on and he and Ruth could go to Morfordsburg + together! He could already see her trim, lovely figure in silhouette + against the morning light, her eyes dancing, her face aglow in the crisp + air of the hills. + </p> + <p> + Garry continued to talk on as they sped into the city, elaborating the + details of the warehouse venture in which he had invested his present and + some of his future commissions, but his words fell on stony ground. The + expected check was the only thing that filled Jack's thoughts. There was + no doubt in his mind now that the decision would be in MacFarlane's favor, + and that the sum, whether large or small, would be paid without delay,—Garry + being treasurer and a large amount of money being still due McGowan on the + embankment and boulevard. It would be joyous news to Ruth, he said to + himself, with a thrill surging through his heart. + </p> + <p> + Jack left Garry on the Jersey side and crossed alone. The boy loved the + salt air in his face and the jewelled lights flashed from the + ever-restless sea. He loved, too, the dash and vim of it all. Forcing his + way through the crowds of passengers to the forward part of the boat, he + stood where he could get the full sweep of the wonderful panorama: + </p> + <p> + The jagged purple line of the vast city stretching as far as the eye could + reach; with its flat-top, square-sided, boxlike buildings, with here and + there a structure taller than the others; the flash of light from + Trinity's spire, its cross aflame; the awkward, crab-like movements of + innumerable ferry-boats, their gaping alligator mouths filled with human + flies; the impudent, nervous little tugs, spitting steam in every passing + face; the long strings of sausage-linked canalers kept together by + grunting, slow-moving tows; the great floating track-yards bearing + ponderous cars—eight days from the Pacific without break of bulk; + the skinny, far-reaching fingers of innumerable docks clutching prey of + barge, steamer, and ship; the stately ocean-liner moving to sea, + scattering water-bugs of boats, scows and barges as it glided on its way:—all + this stirred his imagination and filled him with a strange resolve. He, + too, would win a place among the masses—Ruth's hand fast in his. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII + </h2> + <p> + When Jack, in reply to Breen's note, stepped into his uncle's office, no + one would have recognized in the quick, alert, bronze-faced young fellow + the retiring, almost timid, boy who once peered out of the port-hole of + the cashier's desk. Nor did Jack's eyes fall on any human being he had + ever seen before. New occupants filled the chairs about the ticker. A few + lucky ones—very few—had pulled out and stayed out, and could + now be found at their country seats in various parts of the State, or on + the Riviera, or in Egypt; but by far the larger part had crawled out of + the fight to nurse their wounds within the privacy of their own homes + where the outward show had to be kept up no matter how stringent the + inside economies, or how severe the privations. Others, less fortunate, + had disappeared altogether from their accustomed haunts and were to be + found filling minor positions in some far Western frontier town or camp, + or menial berths on a railroad, while at least one victim, too cowardly to + leave the field, had haunted the lunch counters, hotel lobbies, and + race-tracks for months, preying on friends and acquaintances alike until + dire poverty forced him into crime, and a stone cell and a steel grille + had ended the struggle. + </p> + <p> + Failing to find any face he recognized, Jack approached a group around the + ticker, and inquired for the head of the firm. The answer came from a + red-cheeked, clean-shaven, bullet-headed, immaculately upholstered + gentleman—(silk scarf, diamond horse-shoe stick-pin, high collar, + cut-away coat, speckled-trout waistcoat—everything perfect)—who + stood, paring his nails in front of the plate-glass window overlooking the + street, and who conveyed news of the elder Breen's whereabouts by a bob of + his head and a jerk of his fat forefinger in the direction of the familiar + glass door. + </p> + <p> + Breen sat at his desk when Jack entered, but it was only when he spoke + that his uncle looked up;—so many men swung back that door with + favors to ask, that spontaneous affability was often bad policy. + </p> + <p> + “I received your letter, Uncle Arthur,” Jack began. + </p> + <p> + Breen raised his eyes, and a deep color suffused his face. In his heart he + had a sneaking admiration for the boy. He liked his pluck. Strange, too, + he liked him the better for having left him and striking out for himself, + and stranger still, he was a little ashamed for having brought about the + revolt. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Jack!” He was on his feet now, his hand extended, something of his + old-time cordiality in his manner. “You got my letter, did you? Well, I + wanted to talk to you about that ore property. You own it still, don't + you?” The habit of his life of going straight at the business in hand, + precluded every other topic. Then again he wanted a chance to look the boy + over under fire,—“size him up,” in his own vocabulary. He might need + his help later on. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, we don't own a foot of it,—don't want to. If Mr. MacFarlane + decides to—” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not talking about MacFarlane's job; I'm talking about your own + property,—the Cumberland ore property,—the one your father + left you. You haven't sold it, have you?” This came in an anxious tone. + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Jack simply, wondering what his father's legacy had to do + with his Chief's proposed work. + </p> + <p> + “Have you paid the taxes?” Arthur's eyes were now boring into his. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, every year; they were not much. Why do you ask?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you that later on,” answered his uncle with a more satisfied + air. “You were up there with MacFarlane, weren't you?—when he went + to look over the ground of the Maryland Mining Company where he is to cut + the horizontal shaft?” Jack nodded. “So I heard. Well, it may interest you + to learn that some of our Mukton people own the property. It was I who + sent MacFarlane up, really, although he may not know it.” + </p> + <p> + “That was very kind of you, sir,” rejoined Jack, without a trace of either + gratitude or surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm glad you think so. Some of our directors also own a block of + that new road MacFarlane is finishing. They wouldn't hire anybody else + after they had gone up to Corklesville and had seen how he did his work, + so I had the secretary of the company write MacFarlane, and that's how it + came about.” + </p> + <p> + Jack nodded and waited; his uncle's drift was not yet apparent. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what I wanted to see you about, Jack, is this:” here he settled his + fat back into the chair. “All the ore in that section of the county,—so + our experts say, dips to the east. They've located the vein and they think + a horizontal shaft and gravity will get the stuff to tide water much + cheaper than a vertical shaft and hoist. Now if the ore should peter out—and + the devil himself can't tell always about that—we've got to get some + ore somewhere round there to brace up and make good our prospectus, even + if it does cost a little more, and that's where your Cumberland property + might come in,—see? One of our lawyers looked over a record of your + deed in the town hall of Mulford—” here he bent forward and + consulted a paper on his desk—“No,—that's not it,—Morfordsburg,—yes, + that's it,—Morfordsburg,—looked up the deed, I say, Jack, and + from what he says I don't believe your property is more than a quarter of + a mile, as the crow flies, from where they want MacFarlane to begin + cutting. If the lawyer's right there may be a few dollars in it for you—not + much, but something; and if there is,—of course, I don't want to + commit myself, and I don't want to encourage you too much—but if + he's right I should advise your bringing me what papers you've got and + have our attorney look them over, and if everything's O.K. in the title, + your property might be turned over to the new company and form part of the + deal. You can understand, of course, that we don't want any other deposits + in that section but our own.” + </p> + <p> + Breen's meaning was clear now. So was the purpose of the letter. + </p> + <p> + Jack leaned back in his chair, an expression first of triumph and then of + disgust crossing his face. That his uncle should actually want him back in + his business in any capacity was as complimentary as it was unexpected. + That the basis of the copartnership—and it was this that brought the + curl to his lip—was such that neither a quarter of a mile nor two + miles would stand in the way of a connecting vein of ore on paper, was to + be expected by any one at all familiar with his uncle's methods. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Uncle Arthur,” he answered simply, “but there's nothing + decided yet about the Morfordsburg work. I heard a bit of news coming down + on the train this morning that may cause Mr. MacFarlane to look upon the + proposed work more favorably, but that is for him to say. As to my own + property, when I am there again, if I do go,—I will look over the + ground myself and have Mr. MacFarlane go with me and then I can decide.” + </p> + <p> + Breen knitted his brows. It was not the answer he had expected. In fact, + he was very much astonished both at the reply and the way in which it was + given. He began to be sorry he had raised the question at all. He would + gladly have helped Jack in getting a good price for his property, provided + it did not interfere with his own plans, but to educate him up to the + position of an obstructionist, was quite another matter. + </p> + <p> + “Well, think it over,” he replied in a tone that was meant to show his + entire indifference to the whole affair,—“and some time when you are + in town drop in again. And now tell me about Ruth, as we must call her, I + suppose. Your aunt just missed her at the Cosgroves' the other day.” Then + came a short disquisition on Garry and Corinne and their life at Elm + Crest, followed by an embarrassing pause, during which the head of the + house of Breen lowered the flow line on a black bottle which he took from + a closet behind his desk,—“his digestion being a little out that + morning,” he explained. And so with renewed thanks for the interest he had + taken in his behalf, and with his whole mind now concentrated on Peter and + the unspeakable happiness in store for him when he poured into the old + gentleman's willing and astonished ears the details of the interview, Mr. + John Breen, Henry MacFarlane's Chief Assistant in Charge of Outside Work, + bowed himself out. + </p> + <p> + He had not long to wait. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, that delightful old gentleman had but a short time before called + to a second old gentleman, a more or less delightful fossil in black wig + and spectacles, to take his place at the teller's window, and the first + delightful old gentleman was at the precise moment standing on the top + step of the Exeter, overlooking the street, where he had caught sight of + Jack wending his way toward him. + </p> + <p> + “Jack! JACK!” Peter cried, waving his hand at the boy. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! that's you, Uncle Peter, is it? Shall I—?” + </p> + <p> + “No, Jack, stay where you are until I come to you.” + </p> + <p> + “And where are you going now?” burst out Jack, overjoyed at reaching his + side. + </p> + <p> + “To luncheon, my dear boy! We'll go to Favre's, and have a stuffed pepper + and a plate of spaghetti an inch deep, after my own receipt. Botti cooks + it deliciously;—and a bottle of red wine, my boy,—WINE,—not + logwood and vinegar. No standing up at a trough, or sitting on a high + stool, or wandering about with a sandwich between your fingers,—ruining + your table manners and your digestion. And now tell me about dear Ruth, + and what she says about coming down to dinner next week?” + </p> + <p> + It was wonderful how young he looked, and how happy he was, and how spry + his step, as the two turned into William Street and so on to the cheap + little French restaurant with its sanded floor, little tables for two and + four, with their tiny pots of mustard and flagons of oil and red vinegar,—this + last, the “left-overs” of countless bottles of Bordeaux,—to say + nothing of the great piles of French bread weighing down a shelf beside + the proprietor's desk, racked up like cordwood, and all of the same color, + length, and thickness. + </p> + <p> + Every foot of the way through the room toward his own table—his for + years, and which was placed in the far corner overlooking the doleful + little garden with its half-starved vine and hanging baskets—Peter + had been obliged to speak to everybody he passed (some of the younger men + rose to their feet to shake his hand)—until he reached the + proprietor and gave his order. + </p> + <p> + Auguste, plump and oily, his napkin over his arm, drew out his chair (it + was always tipped back in reserve until he arrived), laid another plate + and accessories for his guest, and then bent his head in attention until + Peter indicated the particular brand of Bordeaux—the color of the + wax sealing its top was the only label—with which he proposed to + entertain his friend. + </p> + <p> + All this time Jack had been on the point of bursting. Once he had slipped + his hand into his pocket for Breen's letter, in the belief that the best + way to get the most enjoyment out of the incident of his visit and the + result,—for it was still a joke to Jack,—would be to lay the + half sheet on Peter's plate and watch the old fellow's face as he read it. + Then he decided to lead gradually up to it, concealing the best part of + the story—the prospectus and how it was to be braced—until the + last. + </p> + <p> + But the boy could not wait; so, after he had told Peter about Ruth,—and + that took ten minutes, try as hard as he could to shorten the telling,—during + which the stuffed peppers were in evidence,—and after Peter had + replied with certain messages to Ruth,—during which the spaghetti + was served sizzling hot, with entrancing frazzlings of brown cheese + clinging to the edges of the tin plate—the Chief Assistant squared + his elbows and plunged head-foremost into the subject. + </p> + <p> + “And now, I have got a surprise for you, Uncle Peter,” cried Jack, + smothering his eagerness as best he could. + </p> + <p> + The old fellow held up his hand, reached for the shabby, dust-begrimed + bottle, that had been sound asleep under the sidewalk for years; filled + Jack's glass, then his own; settled himself in his chair and said with a + dry smile: + </p> + <p> + “If it's something startling, Jack, wait until we drink this,” and he + lifted the slender rim to his lips. “If it's something delightful, you can + spring it now.” + </p> + <p> + “It is both,” answered Jack. “Listen and doubt your ears. I had a letter + from Uncle Arthur this morning asking me to come and see him about my + Cumberland ore property, and I have just spent an hour with him.” + </p> + <p> + Peter put down his glass: + </p> + <p> + “You had a letter from Arthur Breen—about—what do you mean, + Jack.” + </p> + <p> + “Just what I say.” + </p> + <p> + Peter moved close to the table, and looked at the boy in wonderment. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what did he want?” He was all attention now. Arthur Breen sending + for Jack!—and after all that had happened! Well—well! + </p> + <p> + “Wants me to put the Cumberland ore property father left me into one of + his companies.” + </p> + <p> + “That fox!” The explosion cleared the atmosphere for an instant. + </p> + <p> + “That fox!” answered Jack, in a confirmatory tone; and then followed an + account of the interview, the boy chuckling at the end of every sentence + in his delight over the situation. + </p> + <p> + “And what are YOU going to do?” asked Peter in an undecided tone. He had + heard nothing so comical as this for years. + </p> + <p> + “Going to do nothing,—that is, nothing with Uncle Arthur. In the + first place, the property is worthless, unless half a million of money is + spent upon it.” + </p> + <p> + “Or is SAID to have been spent upon it,” rejoined Peter with a smile, + remembering the Breen methods. + </p> + <p> + “Exactly so;—and in the second place, I would rather tear up the + deed than have it added to Uncle Arthur's stock of balloons.” + </p> + <p> + Peter drummed on the table-cloth and looked out of the window. The boy was + right in principle, but then the property might not be a balloon at all; + might in fact be worth a great deal more than the boy dreamed of. That + Arthur Breen had gone out of his way to send for Jack—knowing, as + Peter did, how systematically both he and his wife had abused and + ridiculed him whenever his name was mentioned—was positive evidence + to Peter's mind not only that the property had a value of some kind but + that the discovery was of recent origin. + </p> + <p> + “Would you know yourself, Jack, what the property was worth,—that + is, do you feel yourself competent to pass upon its value?” asked Peter, + lifting his glass to his lips. He was getting back to his normal condition + now. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, to a certain extent, and if I fail, Mr. MacFarlane will help me out. + He was superintendent of the Rockford Mines for five years. He received + his early training there,—but there is no use talking about it, + Uncle Peter. I only told you to let you see how the same old thing is + going on day after day at Uncle Arthur's. If it isn't Mukton, it's + Ginsing, or Black Royal, or some other gas bag.” + </p> + <p> + “What did you tell him?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,—not in all the hour I talked with him. He did the talking; + I did the listening.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope you were courteous to him, my boy?” + </p> + <p> + “I was,—particularly so.” + </p> + <p> + “He wants your property, does he?” ruminated Peter, rolling a crumb of + bread between his thumb and forefinger. “I wonder what's up? He has made + some bad breaks lately and there were ugly rumors about the house for a + time. He has withdrawn his account from the Exeter and so I've lost sight + of all of his transactions.” Here a new idea seemed to strike him: “Did he + seem very anxious about getting hold of the land?” + </p> + <p> + A queer smile played about Jack's lips: + </p> + <p> + “He seemed NOT to be, but he was” + </p> + <p> + “You're sure?” + </p> + <p> + “Very sure; and so would you be if you knew him as well as I do. I have + heard him talk that way to dozens of men and then brag how he'd 'covered + his tracks,' as he used to call it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, Jack,” exclaimed Peter in a decided tone, “there is something in + it. What it is you will find out before many weeks, but something. I will + wager you he has not only had your title searched but has had test holes + driven all over your land. These fellows stop at nothing. Let him alone + for a while and keep him guessing. When he writes to you again to come and + see him, answer that you are too busy, and if he adds a word about the ore + beds tell him you have withdrawn them from the market. In the meantime I + will have a talk with one of our directors who has an interest, so he told + me, in a new steel company up in the Cumberland Mountains, somewhere near + your property, I believe. He may know something of what's going on, if + anything is going on.” + </p> + <p> + Jack's eyes blazed. Something going on! Suppose that after all he and Ruth + would not have to wait. Peter read his thoughts and laid his hand on + Jack's wrist: + </p> + <p> + “Keep your toes on the earth, my boy:—no balloon ascensions and no + bubbles,—none of your own blowing. They are bad things to have burst + in your hands—four hands now, remember, with Ruth's. If there's any + money in your Cumberland ore bank, it will come to light without your + help. Keep still and say nothing, and don't you sign your name to a piece + of paper as big as a postage stamp until you let me see it.” + </p> + <p> + Here Peter looked at his watch and rose from the table. + </p> + <p> + “Time's up, my boy. I never allow myself but an hour at luncheon, and I am + due at the bank in ten minutes. Thank you, Auguste,—and Auguste! + please tell Botti the spaghetti was delicious. Come, Jack.” + </p> + <p> + It was when he held Ruth in his arms that same afternoon—behind the + door, really,—she couldn't wait until they reached the room,—that + Jack whispered in her astonished and delighted ears the good news of the + expected check from Garry's committee. + </p> + <p> + “And daddy won't lose anything; and he can take the new work!” she cried + joyously. “And we can all go up to the mountains together! Oh, Jack!—let + me run and tell daddy!” + </p> + <p> + “No, my darling,—not a word, Garry had no business to tell me what + he did; and it might leak out and get him into trouble:—No, don't + say a word. It is only a few days off. We shall all know next week.” + </p> + <p> + He had led her to the sofa, their favorite seat. + </p> + <p> + “And now I am going to tell you something that would be a million times + better than Garry's check if it were only true,—but it isn't.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, Jack,—quick!” Her lips were close to his. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Arthur wants to buy my ore lands.” + </p> + <p> + “Buy your—And we are going to be—married right away! Oh, you + darling Jack!” + </p> + <p> + “Wait,—wait, my precious, until I tell you!” She did not wait, and + he did not want her to. Only when he could loosen her arms from his neck + did he find her ear again, then he poured into it the rest of the story. + </p> + <p> + “But, oh, Jack!—wouldn't it be lovely if it were true,—and + just think of all the things we could do.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,—but it Isn't true.” + </p> + <p> + “But just suppose it WAS, Jack! You would have a horse of your own and + we'd build the dearest little home and—” + </p> + <p> + “But it never can be true, blessed,—not out of the Cumberland + property—” protested Jack. + </p> + <p> + “But, Jack! Can't we SUPPOSE? Why, supposing is the best fun in the world. + I used to suppose all sorts of things when I was a little girl. Some of + them came true, and some of them didn't, but I had just as much fun as if + they HAD all come true.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever suppose ME?” asked Jack. He knew she never had,—he + wasn't worth it;—but what difference did it make what they talked + about! + </p> + <p> + “Yes,—a thousand times. I always knew, my blessed, that there was + somebody like you in the world somewhere,—and when the girls would + break out and say ugly things of men,—all men,—I just knew + they were not true of everybody. I knew that you would come—and that + I should always look for you until I found you! And now tell me! Did you + suppose about me, too, you darling Jack?” + </p> + <p> + “No,—never. There couldn't be any supposing;—there isn't any + now. It's just you I love, Ruth,—you,—and I love the 'YOU' in + you—That's the best part of you.” + </p> + <p> + And so they talked on, she close in his arms, their cheeks together; + building castles of rose marble and ivory, laying out gardens with vistas + ending in summer sunsets; dreaming dreams that lovers only dream. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV + </h2> + <p> + The check “struck” MacFarlane just as the chairman had said it would, + wiping out his losses by the flood with something ahead for his next + undertaking. + </p> + <p> + That the verdict was a just one was apparent from the reports of both + McGowan's and the Railroad Company's experts. These showed that the + McGowan mortar held but little cement, and that not of the best; that the + backing of the masonry was composed of loose rubble instead of split + stone, and that the collapse of his structure was not caused by the + downpour, but by the caving in of culverts and spillways, which were built + of materials in direct violation of the provisions of the contract. Even + then there might have been some doubt as to the outcome but for Holker + Morris's testimony. He not only sent in his report, but appeared himself, + he told the Council, so as to answer any questions Mr. McGowan or his + friends might ask. He had done this, as he said openly at the meeting, to + aid his personal friend, Mr. MacFarlane, and also that he might raise his + voice against the slipshod work that was being done by men who either did + not know their business or purposely evaded their responsibilities. “This + construction of McGowan's,” he continued, “is especially to be condemned, + as there is not the slightest doubt that the contractor has intentionally + slighted his work—a neglect which, but for the thorough manner in + which MacFarlane had constructed the lower culvert, might have resulted in + the loss of many lives.” + </p> + <p> + McGowan snarled and sputtered, denouncing Garry and his “swallow-tails” in + the bar rooms and at the board meetings, but the decision was unanimous, + two of his friends concurring, fearing, as they explained afterward, that + the “New York crowd” might claim even a larger sum in a suit for damages. + </p> + <p> + The meeting over, Morris and Jack dined with MacFarlane and again the + distinguished architect won Ruth's heart by the charm of his personality, + she telling Jack the next day that he was the only OLD MAN—fifty was + old for Ruth—she had ever seen with whom she could have fallen in + love, and that she was not sure after all but that Jack was too young for + her, at which there was a great scrimmage and a blind-man's-buff chase + around the table, up the front stairs and into the corner by the window, + where she was finally caught, smothered in kisses and made to correct her + arithmetic. + </p> + <p> + This ghost of damages having been laid—it was buried the week after + Jack had called on his uncle—the Chief, the First Assistant, and + Bangs, the head foreman, disappeared from Corklesville and reappeared at + Morfordsburg. + </p> + <p> + The Chief came to select a site for the entrance of the shaft; the First + Assistant came to compare certain maps and documents, which he had taken + from the trunk he had brought with him from his Maryland home, with the + archives resting in the queer old courthouse; while Foreman Bangs was to + help with the level and target, should a survey be found necessary. + </p> + <p> + The faded-out old town clerk looked Jack all over when he asked to see the + duplicate of a certain deed, remarking, as he led the way to the Hall of + Records,—it was under a table in the back room,—“Reckon + there's somethin' goin' on jedgin' from the way you New Yorkers is lookin' + into ore lands up here. There come a lawyer only last month from a man + named Breen, huntin' up this same property.” + </p> + <p> + The comparisons over and found to be correct, “starting from a certain + stone marked 'B' one hundred and eighty-seven feet East by South,” etc., + etc., the whole party, including a small boy to help carry the level and + target and a reliable citizen who said he could find the property + blindfold—and who finally collapsed with a “Goll darn!—if I + know where I'm at!”—the five jumped onto a mud-encrusted vehicle and + started for the site. + </p> + <p> + Up hill and down hill, across one stream and then another; through the + dense timber and into the open again. Here their work began, Jack handling + the level (his Chief had taught him), Bangs holding the target, MacFarlane + taking a squint now and then so as to be sure,—and then the final + result,—to wit:—First, that the Maryland Company's property, + Arthur Breen & Co., agents, lay under a hill some two miles from + Morfordsburg; that Jack's lay some miles to the south of Breen's. Second, + that outcroppings showed the Maryland Mining Company's ore dipped, as the + Senior Breen had said, to the east, and third, that similar outcroppings + showed Jack's dipped to the west. + </p> + <p> + And so the airy bubble filled with his own and Ruth's iridescent hopes,—a + bubble which had floated before him as he tramped through the cool woods, + and out upon the hillside, vanished into thin air. + </p> + <p> + For with Ruth's arms around him, her lips close to his, her boundless + enthusiasm filling his soul, the boy's emotions had for the time overcome + his judgment. So much so that all the way up in the train he had been + “supposing” and resupposing. Even the reply of the town clerk had set his + heart to thumping; his uncle had sent some one then! Then came the + thought,—Yes, to boom one of his misleading prospectuses—and + for a time the pounding had ceased: by no possible combination now, either + honest or dishonest, could the two properties be considered one and the + same mine. + </p> + <p> + Again his thoughts went back to Ruth. He knew how keenly she would be + disappointed. She had made him promise to telegraph her at once if his own + and her father's inspection of the ore lands should hold out any + rose-colored prospects for the future. This he had not now the heart to + do. One thing, however, he must do, and at once, and that was to write to + Peter, or see him immediately on his return. There was no use now of the + old fellow talking the matter over with the director; there was nothing to + talk over, except a bare hill three miles from anywhere, covering a + possible deposit of doubtful richness and which, whether good or bad, + would cost more to get to market than it was worth. + </p> + <p> + They were on the extreme edge of the forest when the final decision was + reached, MacFarlane leaning against a rock, the level and tripod tilted + against his arm, Jack sitting on a fallen tree, the map spread out on his + knees. + </p> + <p> + For some minutes Jack sat silent, his eyes roaming over the landscape. + Below him stretched an undulating mantle of velvet, laid loosely over + valley, ravine and hill, embroidered in tints of corn-yellow, purplings of + full-blossomed clover and the softer greens of meadow and swamp. In and + out, now straight, now in curves and bows, was threaded a ribbon of + silver, with here and there a connecting mirror in which flashed the sun. + Bordering its furthermost edge a chain of mountains lost themselves in + low, rolling clouds, while here and there, in its many crumplings, were + studded jewels of barn stack and house, their facets aflame in the morning + light. + </p> + <p> + Jack absorbed it all, its beauty filling his soul, the sunshine bathing + his cheeks. Soon all trace of his disappointment vanished: with Ruth here,—with + his work to occupy him,—and this mighty, all-inspiring, + all-intoxicating sweep of loveliness spread out, his own and Ruth's every + hour of the day and night, what did ore beds or anything else matter? + </p> + <p> + MacFarlane's voice woke him to consciousness. He had called to him before, + but the boy had not heard. + </p> + <p> + “As I have just remarked, Jack,” MacFarlane began again, “there is nothing + but an earthquake will make your property of any use. It is a low-grade + ore, I should say, and tunnelling and shoring would eat it up. Wipe it off + the books. There are thousands of acres of this kind of land lying around + loose from here to the Cumberland Valley. It may get better as you go down—only + an assay can tell about that—but I don't think it will. To begin + sinking shafts might mean sinking one or a dozen; and there's nothing so + expensive. I am sorry, Jack, but wipe it out. Some bright scoundrel might + sell stock on it, but they'll never melt any of it up into stove plate.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, sir,” Jack said at last, with a light laugh. “It is the same + old piece of bread, I reckon, and it has fallen on the same old buttered + side. Uncle Peter told me to beware of bubbles—said they were hard + to carry around. This one has burst before I got my hand on it. All right—let + her go! I hope Ruth won't take it too much to heart. Here, boy, get hold + of this map and put it with the other traps in the wagon. And now, Mr. + MacFarlane, what comes next?” + </p> + <p> + Before the day was over MacFarlane had perfected his plans. The town was + to be avoided as too demoralizing a shelter for the men, and barracks were + to be erected in which to house them. Locations of the principal derricks + were selected and staked, as well as the sites for the entrance to the + shaft, for the machine and blacksmith's shops and for a storage shanty for + tools: the Maryland Mining Company's work would require at least two years + to complete, and a rational, well-studied plan of procedure was + imperative. + </p> + <p> + “And now, Jack, where are you going to live,—in the village?” asked + his Chief, resting the level and tripod carefully against a tree trunk and + seating himself beside Jack on a fallen log. + </p> + <p> + “Out here, if you don't mind, sir, where I can be on top of the work all + the time. It's but a short ride for Ruth and she can come and go all the + time. I am going to drop some of these trees; get two or three choppers + from the village and knock up a log-house like the one I camped in when I + was a boy.” + </p> + <p> + “Where will you put it?” asked MacFarlane with a smile, as he turned his + head as if in search of a site. It was just where he wanted Jack to live, + but he would not have suggested it. + </p> + <p> + “Not a hundred yards from where we sit, sir—a little back of those + two big oaks. There's a spring above on the hill and sloping ground for + drainage; and shade, and a great sweep of country in front. I've been + hungry for this life ever since I left home; now I am going to have it.” + </p> + <p> + “It will be rather lonely, won't it?” The engineer's eyes softened as they + rested on the young fellow, his face flushed with the enthusiasm of his + new resolve. He and Ruth's mother had lived in just such a shanty, and not + so very long ago, either, it seemed,—those were the happiest years + of his life. + </p> + <p> + “No!” exclaimed Jack. “It's only a step to the town; I can walk it in half + an hour. No, it won't be lonely. I will fix up a room for Uncle Peter + somewhere, so he can be comfortable,—he would love to come here on + his holidays; and Ruth can come out for the day,—she will be crazy + about it when I tell her. No, I will get along. If the lightning had + struck my ore beds I would probably have painted and papered some musty + back room in the village and lived a respectable life. Now I am going to + turn savage.” + </p> + <p> + The next day the contracts were signed: work to commence in three months. + Henry MacFarlane, Engineer-in-Chief, John Breen in charge of construction. + </p> + <p> + It was on that same sofa in the far corner of the sitting-room that Jack + told Ruth,—gently, one word at a time,—making the best of it, + but telling her the exact truth. + </p> + <p> + “And then we are not going to have any of the things we dreamed about, + Jack,” she said with a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid not, my darling,—not now, unless the lightning strikes + us, which it won't.” + </p> + <p> + She looked out of the window for a moment, and her eyes filled with tears. + Then she thought of her father, and how hard he had worked, and what + disappointments he had suffered, and yet how, with all his troubles, he + had always put his best foot foremost—always encouraging her. She + would not let Jack see her chagrin. This was part of Jack's life, just as + similar disappointments had been part of her father's. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, blessed. Well, we had lots of fun 'supposing,' didn't we, + Jack. This one didn't come true, but some of the others will and what + difference does it make, anyway, as long as I have you,” and she nestled + her face in his neck. “And now tell me what sort of a place it is and + where daddy and I are going to live, and all about it.” + </p> + <p> + And then, to soften the disappointment the more and to keep a new bubble + afloat, Jack launched out into a description of the country and how + beautiful the view was from the edge of the hill overlooking the valley, + with the big oaks crowning the top and the lichen-covered rocks and fallen + timber blanketed with green moss, and the spring of water that gushed out + of the ground and ran laughing down the hillside, and the sweep of + mountains losing themselves in the blue haze of the distance, and then + finally to the log-cabin he was going to build for his own especial use. + </p> + <p> + “And only two miles away,” she cried in a joyous tone,—“and I can + ride out every day! Oh, Jack!—just think of it!” And so, with the + breath of this new enthusiasm filling their souls, a new bubble of hope + and gladness was floated, and again the two fell to planning, and + “supposing,” the rose-glow once more lightening up the peaks. + </p> + <p> + For days nothing else was talked of. An onslaught was at once made on + Garry's office, two doors below Mrs. Hicks, for photographs, plans of + bungalows, shanties, White Mountain lean-tos, and the like, and as quickly + tucked under Ruth's arm and carried off, with only the permission of the + office boy,—Garry himself being absent owing to some matters + connected with a big warehouse company in which he was interested, the boy + said, and which took him to New York on the early train and did not allow + his return sometimes, until after midnight. + </p> + <p> + These plans were spread out under the lamp on the sitting-room table, the + two studying the details, their heads together, MacFarlane sitting beside + them reading or listening,—the light of the lamp falling on his + earnest, thoughtful face,—Jack consulting him now and then as to the + advisability of further extensions, the same being two rooms shingled + inside and out, with an annex of bark and plank for Ruth's horse, and a + kitchen and laundry and no end of comforts, big and little,—all to + be occupied whenever their lucky day would come and the merry bells ring + out the joyful tidings of their marriage. + </p> + <p> + Nor was this all this particularly radiant bubble contained. Not only was + there to be a big open fireplace built of stone, and overhead rafters of + birch, the bark left on and still glistening,—but there were to be + palms, ferns, hanging baskets, chintz curtains, rugs, pots of flowers, + Chinese lanterns, hammocks, easy chairs; and for all Jack knew, porcelain + tubs, electric bells, steam heat and hot and cold water, so enthusiastic + had Ruth become over the possibilities lurking in the 15 X 20 log-hut + which Jack proposed to throw together as a shelter in his exile. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV + </h2> + <p> + The news of MacFarlane's expected departure soon became known in the + village. There were not many people to say good-by, the inhabitants having + seen but little of the engineer and still less of his daughter, except as + she flew past, in a mad gallop, on her brown mare, her hair sometimes down + her back. The pastor of the new church came, however, to express his + regrets, and to thank Mr. MacFarlane for his interest in the church + building. He also took occasion to say many complimentary things about + Garry, extolling him for the wonderful manner in which that brilliant + young architect had kept within the sum set apart by the trustees for its + construction, and for the skill with which the work was being done, adding + that as a slight reward for such devotion the church trustees had made Mr. + Minott treasurer of the building fund, believing that in this way all + disputes could the better be avoided,—one of some importance having + already arisen (here the reverend gentleman lowered his voice) in which + Mr. McGowan, he was sorry to say, who was building the masonry, had + attempted an overcharge which only Mr. Minott's watchful eye could have + detected, adding, with a glance over his shoulder, that the collapse of + the embankment had undermined the contractor's reputation quite as much as + the freshet had his culvert, at which MacFarlane smiled but made no reply. + </p> + <p> + Corinne also came to express her regrets, bringing with her a scrap of an + infant in a teetering baby carriage, the whole presided over by a nurse in + a blue dress, white cap, and white apron, the ends reaching to her feet: + not the Corinne, the Scribe is pained to say, who, in the old days would + twist her head and stamp her little feet and have her way in everything. + But a woman terribly shrunken, with deep lines in her face and under her + eyes. Jack, man-like, did not notice the change, but Ruth did. + </p> + <p> + After the baby had been duly admired, Ruth tossing it in her arms until it + crowed, Corinne being too tired for much enthusiasm, had sent it home, + Ruth escorting it herself to the garden gate. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry you are going,” Corinne said in Ruth's absence. “I suppose we + must stay on here until Garry finishes the new church. I haven't seen much + of Ruth,—or of you, either, Jack. But I don't see much of anybody + now,—not even of Garry. He never gets home until midnight, or even + later, if the train is behind time, and it generally is.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he must have lots of new work,” cried Jack in a cheerful tone. “He + told me the last time I saw him on the train that he expected some big + warehouse job.” + </p> + <p> + Corinne looked out of the window and fingered the handle of her parasol. + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe that is what keeps him in town, Jack,” she said slowly. + “I hoped you would come and see him last Sunday. Did Garry give you my + message? I heard you were at home to-day, and that is why I came.” + </p> + <p> + “No, he never said a single word about it or I would have come, of course. + What do you think, then, keeps him in town so late?” Something in her + voice made Jack leave his own and take a seat beside her. “Tell me, + Corinne. I'll do anything I can for Garry and you too. What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, Jack,—I wish I did. He has changed lately. When I + went to his room the other night he was walking the floor; he said he + couldn't sleep, and the next morning when he didn't come down to breakfast + I went up and found him in a half stupor. I had hard work to wake him. + Don't tell Ruth,—I don't want anybody but you to know, but I wish + you'd come and see him. I've nobody else to turn to,—won't you, + Jack?” + </p> + <p> + “Come! of course I'll come, Corinne,—now,—this minute, if he's + home, or to-night, or any time you say. Suppose I go back with you and + wait. Garry's working too hard, that's it,—he was always that way, + puts his whole soul into anything he gets interested in and never lets up + until it's accomplished.” He waited for some reply, but she was still + toying with the handle of her parasol. Her mind had not been on his + proffered help,—she had not heard him, in fact. + </p> + <p> + “And, Jack,” she went on in the same heart-broken tone through which an + unbidden sob seemed to struggle. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I am listening, Corinne,—what is it?” + </p> + <p> + “I want you to forgive me for the way I have always treated you. I have—” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Corinne, what nonsense! Don't you bother your head about such—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but I do, and it is because I have never done anything but be ugly + to you. When you lived with us I—” + </p> + <p> + “But we were children then, Corinne, and neither of us knew any better. I + won't hear one word of such nonsense. Why, my dear girl—“he had + taken her hand as she spoke and the pair rested on his knee—“do you + think I am—No—you are too sensible a woman to think anything + of the kind. But that is not it, Corinne—something worries you;” he + asked suddenly with a quick glance at her face. “What is it? You shall + have the best in me, and Ruth will help too.” + </p> + <p> + Her fingers closed over his. The touch of the young fellow, so full of + buoyant strength and hope and happiness, seemed to put new life into her. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, Jack.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “There may not be + anything, yet I live under an awful terror. Don't ask me;—only tell + me you will help me if I need you. I have nobody else—my stepfather + almost turned me out of his office when I went to see him the other day,—my + mother doesn't care. She has only been here half a dozen times, and that + was when baby was born. Hush,—here comes Ruth,—she must not + know.” + </p> + <p> + “But she MUST know, Corinne. I never have any secrets from Ruth, and don't + you have any either. Ruth couldn't be anything but kind to you and she + never misunderstands, and she is so helpful. Here she is. Ruth, dear, we + were just waiting for you. Corinne is nervous and depressed, and imagines + all sorts of things, one of which is that we don't care for her: and I've + just told her that we do?” + </p> + <p> + Ruth looked into Jack's eyes as if to get his meaning—she must + always get her cue from him now—she was entirely unconscious of the + cause of it all, or why Corinne should feel so, but if Jack thought + Corinne was suffering and that she wanted comforting, all she had was at + Corinne's and Jack's disposal. With a quick movement she leaned forward + and laid her hand on Corinne's shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Why, you dear Corinne,—Jack and I are not like that. What has gone + wrong,—tell me,” she urged. + </p> + <p> + For a brief instant Corinne made no answer. Once she tried to speak but + the words died in her throat. Then, lifting up her hands appealingly, she + faltered out: + </p> + <p> + “I only said that I—Oh, Ruth!—I am so wretched!” and sank back + on the lounge in an agony of tears. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI + </h2> + <p> + At ten o'clock that same night Jack went to the station to meet Garry. He + and Ruth had talked over the strange scene—unaccountable to both of + them—and had determined that Jack should see Garry at once. + </p> + <p> + “I must help him, Ruth, no matter at what cost. Garry has been my friend + for years; he has been taken up with his work, and so have I, and we have + drifted apart a little, but I shall never forget him for his kindness to + me when I first came to New York. I would never have known Uncle Peter but + for Garry, or Aunt Felicia, or—you, my darling.” + </p> + <p> + Jack waited under the shelter of the overhanging roof until the young + architect stepped from the car and crossed the track. Garry walked with + the sluggish movement of a tired man—hardly able to drag his feet + after him. + </p> + <p> + “I thought I'd come down to meet you, Garry,” Jack cried in his old + buoyant tone. “It's pretty rough on you, old fellow, working so hard.” + </p> + <p> + Garry raised his head and peered into the speaker's face. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Jack!” he exclaimed in a surprised tone; the voice did not sound + like Garry's. “I didn't see you in the train. Have you been in New York + too?” He evidently understood nothing of Jack's explanation. + </p> + <p> + “No, I came down to meet you. Corinne was at Mr. MacFarlane's to-day, and + said you were not well,—and so I thought I'd walk home with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank you, old man, but I'm all right. Corinne's nervous;—you + mustn't mind her. I've been up against it for two or three weeks now,—lot + of work of all kinds, and that's kept me a good deal from home. I don't + wonder Cory's worried, but I can't help it—not yet.” + </p> + <p> + They had reached an overhead light, and Jack caught a clearer view of the + man. What he saw sent a shiver through him. A great change had come over + his friend. His untidy dress,—always so neat and well kept; his + haggard eyes and shambling, unsteady walk, so different from his springy, + debonair manner, all showed that he had been and still was under some + terrible mental strain. That he had not been drinking was evident from his + utterance and gait. This last discovery when his condition was considered, + disturbed him most of all, for he saw that Garry was going through some + terrible crisis, either professional or financial. + </p> + <p> + As the two advanced toward the door of the station on their way to the + street, the big, burly form of McGowan, the contractor, loomed up. + </p> + <p> + “I heard you wouldn't be up till late, Mr. Minott,” he exclaimed gruffly, + blocking Garry's exit to the street. “I couldn't find you at the Council + or at your office, so I had to come here. We haven't had that last payment + on the church. The vouchers is all ready for your signature, so the head + trustee says,—and the money's where you can git at it.” + </p> + <p> + Garry braced his shoulders and his jaw tightened. One secret of the young + architect's professional success lay in his command over his men. Although + he was considerate, and sometimes familiar, he never permitted any + disrespect. + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, Mr. McGowan, that's so,” he answered stiffly. “I've been in New + York a good deal lately and I guess I've neglected things here. I'll try + to come up in the morning, and if everything's all right I'll get a + certificate and fill it up and you'll get a check in a few days.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but you said that last week.” There was a sound of defiance in + McGowan's voice. + </p> + <p> + “If I did I had good reason for the delay,” answered Garry with a flash of + anger. “I'm not running my office to suit you.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor for anybody else who wants his money and who's got to have it, and I + want to tell you, Mr. Minott, right here, and I don't care who hears it, + that I want mine or I'll know the reason why.” + </p> + <p> + Garry wheeled fiercely and raised his hand as if to strike the speaker, + then it dropped to his side. + </p> + <p> + “I don't blame you, Mr. McGowan,” he said in a restrained, even voice. “I + have no doubt that it's due you and you ought to have it, but I've been + pretty hard pressed lately with some matters in New York; so much so that + I've been obliged to take the early morning train,—and you can see + yourself what time I get home. Just give me a day or two longer and I'll + examine the work and straighten it out. And then again, I'm not very + well.” + </p> + <p> + The contractor glared into the speaker's face as if to continue the + discussion, then his features relaxed. Something in the sound of Garry's + voice, or perhaps some line of suffering in his face must have touched + him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, of course, I ain't no hog,” he exclaimed in a softer tone, which + was meant as an apology, “and if you're sick that ends it, but I've got + all them men to pay and—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I understand and I won't forget. Thank you, Mr. McGowan, and + good-night. Come along, Jack,—Corinne's worrying, and will be till I + get home.” + </p> + <p> + The two kept silent as they walked up the hill Garry, because he was too + tired to discuss the cowardly attack; Jack, because what he had to say + must be said when they were alone,—when he could get hold of Garry's + hand and make him open his heart. + </p> + <p> + As they approached the small house and mounted the steps leading to the + front porch, Corinne's face could be seen pressed against a pane in one of + the dining-room windows. Garry touched Jack's arm and pointed ahead: + </p> + <p> + “Poor Cory!” he exclaimed with a deep sigh, “that's the way she is every + night. Coming home is sometimes the worst part of it all, Jack.” + </p> + <p> + The door flew open and Corinne sprang out: “Are you tired, dear?” she + asked, peering into his face and kissing him. Then turning to Jack: “Thank + you, Jack!—It was so good of you to go. Ruth sent me word you had + gone to meet him.” + </p> + <p> + She led the way into the house, relieving Garry of his hat, and moving up + an easy chair stood beside it until he had settled himself into its + depths. + </p> + <p> + Again she bent over and kissed him: “How are things to-day, dear?—any + better?” she inquired in a quavering voice. + </p> + <p> + “Some of them are better and some are worse, Cory; but there's nothing for + you to worry about. That's what I've been telling Jack. How's baby? + Anybody been here from the board?—Any letters?” + </p> + <p> + “Baby's all right,” the words came slowly, as if all utterance gave her + pain. “No, there are no letters. Mr. McGowan was here, but I told him you + wouldn't be home till late.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I saw him,” replied Garry, dropping his voice suddenly to a + monotone, an expression of pain followed by a shade of anxiety settling on + his face: McGowan and his affairs were evidently unpleasant subjects. At + this instant the cry of a child was heard. Garry roused himself and turned + his head. + </p> + <p> + “Listen—that's baby crying! Better go to her, Cory.” + </p> + <p> + Garry waited until his wife had left the room, then he rose from, his + chair, crossed to the sideboard, poured out three-quarters of a glass of + raw whiskey and drank it without drawing a breath. + </p> + <p> + “That's the first to-day, Jack. I dare not touch it when I'm on a strain + like this. Can't think clearly, and I want my head,—all of it. + There's a lot of sharks down in New York,—skin you alive if they + could. I beg your pardon, old man,—have a drop?” + </p> + <p> + Jack waved his hand in denial, his eyes still on his friend: “Not now, + Garry, thank you.” + </p> + <p> + Garry dropped the stopper into the decanter, pushed back the empty tumbler + and began pacing the floor, halting now and then to toe some pattern in + the carpet, talking all the time to himself in broken sentences, like one + thinking aloud. All Jack's heart went out to his friend as he watched him. + He and Ruth were so happy. All their future was so full of hope and + promise, and Garry—brilliant, successful Garry,—the envy of + all his associates, so harassed and so wretched! + </p> + <p> + “Garry, sit down and listen to me,” Jack said at last. “I am your oldest + friend; no one you know thinks any more of you than I do, or will be more + ready to help. Now, what troubles you?” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you, Jack, I'm not troubled!”—something of the old bravado + rang in his voice,—“except as everybody is troubled when he's trying + to straighten out something that won't straighten. I'm knocked out, that's + all,—can't you see it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I see it,—and that's not all I see. Is it your work here or in + New York? I want to know, and I'm going to know, and I have a right to + know, and you are not going to bed until you tell me,—nor will I. I + can and will help you, and so will Mr. MacFarlane, and Uncle Peter, and + everybody I ask. What's gone wrong?—Tell me!” + </p> + <p> + Garry continued to walk the floor. Then he wheeled suddenly and threw + himself into his chair. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Jack,” he answered with an indrawn sigh,—“if you must know, + I'm on the wrong side of the market.” + </p> + <p> + “Stocks?” + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly. The bottom's fallen out of the Warehouse Company.” + </p> + <p> + Jack's heart gave a rebound. After all, it was only a question of money + and this could be straightened out. He had begun to fear that it might be + something worse; what, he dared not conjecture. + </p> + <p> + “And you have lost money?” Jack continued in a less eager tone. + </p> + <p> + “A whole lot of money.” + </p> + <p> + “How much?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, but a lot. It went up three points to-day and so I am + hanging on by my eyelids.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that's not the first time men have been in that position,” Jack + replied in a hopeful tone. “Is there anything more,—something you + are keeping back?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,—a good deal more. I'm afraid I'll have to let go. If I do I'm + ruined.” + </p> + <p> + Jack kept silent for a moment. Various ways of raising money to help his + friend passed in review, none of which at the moment seemed feasible or + possible. + </p> + <p> + “How much will make your account good?” he asked after a pause. + </p> + <p> + “About ten thousand dollars.” + </p> + <p> + Jack leaned forward in his chair. “Ten thousand dollars!” he exclaimed in + a startled tone. “Why, Garry—how in the name of common-sense did you + get in as deep as that?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I was a damned fool!” + </p> + <p> + Again there was silence, during which Garry fumbled for a match, opened + his case and lighted a cigarette. Then he said slowly, as he tossed the + burnt end of the match from him: + </p> + <p> + “You said something, Jack, about some of your friends helping. Could Mr. + MacFarlane?” + </p> + <p> + “No,—he hasn't got it,—not to spare. I was thinking of another + kind of help when I spoke. I supposed you had got into debt, or something, + and were depending on your commissions to pull you out, and that some new + job was hanging fire and perhaps some of us could help as we did on the + church.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” rejoined Garry, in a hopeless tone, “nothing will help but a + certified check. Perhaps your Mr. Grayson might do something,” he + continued in the same voice. + </p> + <p> + “Uncle Peter! Why, Garry, he doesn't earn ten thousand dollars in three + years.” + </p> + <p> + Again there was silence. + </p> + <p> + “Well, would it be any use for you to ask Arthur Breen? He wouldn't give + me a cent, and I wouldn't ask him. I don't believe in laying down on your + wife's relations, but he might do it for you now that you're getting up in + the world.” + </p> + <p> + Jack bent his head in deep thought. The proposal that his uncle had made + him for the ore lands passed in review. At that time he could have turned + over the property to Breen. But it was worthless now. He shook his head: + </p> + <p> + “I don't think so.” Then he added quickly—“Have you been to Mr. + Morris?” + </p> + <p> + “No, and won't. I'd die first!” this came in a sharp, determined voice, as + if it had jumped hot from his heart. + </p> + <p> + “But he thinks the world of you; it was only a week ago that he told Mr. + MacFarlane that you were the best man he ever had in his office.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,—that's why I won't go, Jack. I'll play my hand alone and take + the consequences, but I won't beg of my friends; not a friend like Mr. + Morris; any coward can do that. Mr. Morris believes in me,—I want + him to continue to believe in me. That's worth twenty times ten thousand + dollars.” His eyes flashed for the first time. Again the old Garry shone + out. + </p> + <p> + “When must you have this money?” + </p> + <p> + “By the end of the week,—before next Monday, anyhow.” + </p> + <p> + “Then the situation is not hopeless?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not entirely. I have one card left;—I'll play it to-morrow, + then I'll know.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there a chance of its winning?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes and no. As for the 'yes,' I've always had my father's luck. Minotts + don't go under and I don't believe I shall, we take risks and we win. + That's what brought me to Corklesville, and you see what I have made of + myself. Just at present I've got my foot in a bear trap, but I'll pull out + somehow. As for the 'no' part of it,—I ought to tell you that the + warehouse stock has been knocked endways by another corporation which has + a right of way that cuts ours and is going to steal our business. I think + it's a put-up job to bear our stock so they can scoop it and consolidate; + that's why I am holding on. I've flung in every dollar I can rake and + scrape for margin and my stocking's about turned inside out. I got a tip + last week that I thought would land us all on our feet, but it worked the + other way.” Something connected with the tip must have stirred him for his + face clouded as he rose to his feet, exclaiming: “Have a drop, Jack?—that + last one braced me up.” + </p> + <p> + Again Jack shook his head, and again Garry settled himself back in his + chair. + </p> + <p> + “I am powerless, Garry,” said Jack. “If I had the money you should have + it. I have nothing but my salary and I have drawn only a little of that + lately, so as to help out in starting the new work. I thought I had + something in an ore bank my father left me, but it is valueless, I find. I + suppose I could put some life in it if I would work it along the lines + Uncle Arthur wants me to, but I can't and won't do that. Somehow, Garry, + this stock business follows me everywhere. It drove me out of Uncle + Arthur's office and house, although I never regretted that,—and now + it hits you. I couldn't do anything to help Charlie Gilbert then and I + can't do anything to help you now, unless you can think of some way. Is + there any one that I can see except Uncle Arthur,—anybody I can talk + to?” + </p> + <p> + Garry shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “I've done that, Jack. I've followed every lead, borrowed every dollar I + could,—been turned down half a dozen times, but I kept on. Got it in + the neck twice to-day from some fellows I thought would help push.” + </p> + <p> + Jack started forward, a light breaking over his face. + </p> + <p> + “I have it, Garry! Suppose that I go to Mr. Morris. I can talk to him, + maybe, in a way you would not like to.” + </p> + <p> + Garry lifted his head and sat erect. + </p> + <p> + “No, by God!—you'll do nothing of the kind!” he cried, as he brought + his fist down on the arm of his chair. “That man I love as I love nothing + else in this world—wife—baby—nothing! I'll go under, but + I'll never let him see me crawl. I'll be Garry Minott to him as long as I + breathe. The same man he trusted,—the same man he loved,—for + he does love me, and always did!” He hesitated and his voice broke, as if + a sob clogged it. After a moment's struggle he went on: “I was a damned + fool to leave him or I wouldn't be where I am. 'Garry,' he said to me that + last day when he took me into his office and shut the door,—'Garry, + stay on here a while longer; wait till next year. If it's more pay you + want, fix it to suit yourself. I've got two boys coming along; they'll + both be through the Beaux Arts in a year or so. I'm getting on and I'm + getting tired. Stay on and go in with them.' And what did I do? Well, + what's the use of talking?—you know it all.” + </p> + <p> + Jack moved his chair and put his arm over his shoulder as a woman would + have done. He had caught the break in his voice and knew how manfully he + was struggling to keep up. + </p> + <p> + “Garry, old man.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Jack.” + </p> + <p> + “If Mr. Morris thought that way, then, why won't he help you now? What's + ten thousand to him?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,—not a drop in the bucket! He'd begin drawing the check + before I'd finished telling him what I wanted it for. I'm in a hole and + don't know which way to turn, but when I think of what he's done for me + I'll rot in hell before I'll take his money.” Again his voice had the old + ring. + </p> + <p> + “But, Garry,” insisted Jack, “if I can see Morris in the morning and lay + the whole matter before him—” + </p> + <p> + “You'll do nothing of the kind, do you hear!—keep still—somebody's + coming downstairs. Not a word if it is Corinne. She is carrying now all + she can stand up under.” + </p> + <p> + He passed his hand across his face with a quick movement and brushed the + tears from his cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Remember, not a word. I haven't told her everything. I tried to, but I + couldn't.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell her now, Garry,” cried Jack. “Now—to-night,” his voice rising + on the last word. “Before you close your eyes. You never needed her help + as you do now.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't—it would break her heart. Keep still!—that's her + step.” + </p> + <p> + Corinne entered the room slowly and walked to Garry's chair. + </p> + <p> + “Baby's asleep now,” she said in a subdued voice, “and I'm going to take + you to bed. You won't mind, Jack, will you? Come, dear,” and she slipped + her hand under his arm to lift him from his chair. + </p> + <p> + Garry rose from his seat. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” he answered assuming his old cheerful tone, “I'll go. I AM + tired, I guess, Cory, and bed's the best place for me. Good-night, old + man,—give my love to Ruth,” and he followed his wife out of the + room. + </p> + <p> + Jack waited until the two had turned to mount the stairs, caught a + significant flash from Garry's dark eyes as a further reminder of his + silence, and, opening the front door, closed it softly behind him. + </p> + <p> + Ruth was waiting for him. She had been walking the floor during the last + half hour peering out now and then into the dark, with ears wide open for + his step. + </p> + <p> + “I was so worried, my precious,” she cried, drawing his cheek down to her + lips. “You stayed so long. Is it very dreadful?” + </p> + <p> + Jack put his arm around her, led her into the sitting-room and shut the + door. Then the two settled beside each other on the sofa. + </p> + <p> + “Pretty bad,—my darling—” Jack answered at last,—“very + bad, really.” + </p> + <p> + “Has he been drinking?” + </p> + <p> + “Worse,—he has been dabbling in Wall Street and may lose every cent + he has.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth leaned her head on her hand: “I was afraid it was something awful + from the way Corinne spoke. Oh, poor dear,—I'm so sorry! Does she + know now?” + </p> + <p> + “She knows he's in trouble, but she doesn't know how bad it is. I begged + him to tell her, but he wouldn't promise. He's afraid of hurting her—afraid + to trust her, I think, with his sufferings. He's making an awful mistake, + but I could not move him. He might listen to you if you tried.” + </p> + <p> + “But he must tell her, Jack,” Ruth cried in an indignant tone. “It is not + fair to her; it is not fair to any woman,—and it is not kind. + Corinne is not a child any longer;—she's a grown woman, and a + mother. How can she help him unless she knows? Jack, dear, look into my + eyes;” her face was raised to his;—“Promise me, my darling, that no + matter what happens to you you'll tell me first.” + </p> + <p> + And Jack promised. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII + </h2> + <p> + When Jack awoke the next morning his mind was still intent on helping + Garry out of his difficulties. Where the money was to come from, and how + far even ten thousand dollars would go in bridging over the crisis, even + should he succeed in raising so large a sum, were the questions which + caused him the most anxiety. + </p> + <p> + A letter from Peter, while it did not bring any positive relief, shed a + ray of light on the situation: + </p> + <p> + I have just had another talk with the director of our bank—the one I + told you was interested in steel works in Western Maryland. He by no means + agrees with either you or MacFarlane as to the value of the ore deposits + in that section, and is going to make an investigation of your property + and let me know. You may, in fact, hear from him direct as I gave him your + address. + </p> + <p> + Dear love to Ruth and your own good self. + </p> + <p> + This was indeed good news if anything came of it, but it wouldn't help + Garry. Should he wait till Garry had played that last card he had spoken + of, which he was so sure would win, or should he begin at once to try and + raise the money? + </p> + <p> + This news at any other time would have set his hopes to fluttering. If + Peter's director was made of money and intent on throwing it away; and if + a blast furnace or a steel plant, or whatever could turn worthless rock + into pruning-hooks and ploughshares, should by some act of folly be built + in the valley at the foot of the hill he owned, why something might come + of it. But, then, so might skies fall and everybody have larks on toast + for breakfast. Until then his concern was with Garry. + </p> + <p> + He realized that the young architect was too broken down physically and + mentally to decide any question of real moment. His will power was gone + and his nerves unstrung. The kindest thing therefore that any friend could + do for him, would be to step in and conduct the fight without him. Garry's + wishes to keep the situation from Corinne would be respected, but that did + not mean that his own efforts should be relaxed. Yet where would he begin, + and on whom? MacFarlane had just told him that Morris was away from home + and would not be back for several days. Peter was out of the question so + far as his own means—or lack of means—was concerned, and he + could not, of course, ask him to go into debt for a man who had never been + his friend, especially when neither he nor Garry had any security to + offer. + </p> + <p> + He finally decided to talk the whole matter over with MacFarlane and act + on his advice. The clear business head of his Chief cleared the situation + as a north-west wind blows out a fog. + </p> + <p> + “Stay out of it, Jack,” he exclaimed in a quick, positive voice that + showed he had made up his mind long before Jack had finished his recital. + “Minott is a gambler, and so was his father before him. He has got to take + his lean with his fat. If you pulled him out of this hole he would be in + another in six months. It's in his blood, just as much as it is in your + blood to love horses and the woods. Let him alone;—Corinne's + stepfather is the man to help; that's his business, and that's where + Minott wants to go. If there is anything of value in this Warehouse + Company, Arthur Breen & Co. can carry the certificates for Minott + until they go up and he can get out. If there is nothing, then the sooner + Garry sells out and lets it go the better. Stay out, Jack. It's not in the + line of your duty. It's hard on his wife and he is having a devil of a row + to hoe, but it will be the best thing for him in the end.” + </p> + <p> + Jack listened in respectful silence, as he always did, to MacFarlane's + frank outburst, but it neither changed his mind nor cooled his ardor. + Where his heart was concerned his judgment rarely worked. Then, loyalty to + a friend in distress was the one thing his father had taught him. He did + not agree with his Chief's view of the situation. If Garry was born a + gambler, he had kept that fact concealed from him and from his wife. He + recalled the conversation he had had with him some weeks before, when he + was so enthusiastic over the money he was going to make in the new + Warehouse deal. He had been selected as the architect for the new + buildings, and it was quite natural that he should have become interested + in the securities of the company. This threatened calamity was one that + might overtake any man. Get Garry out of this hole and he would stay out; + let him sink, and his whole career would be ruined. And then there was a + sentimental side to it even if Garry was a gambler—one that could + not be ignored when he thought of Corinne and the child. + </p> + <p> + Late in the afternoon, his mind still unsettled, he poured out his + anxieties to Ruth. She did not disappoint him. Her big heart swelled only + with sympathy for the wife who was suffering. It made no difference to her + that Corinne had never been even polite, never once during the sojourn of + the Minotts in the village having manifested the slightest interest either + in her own or Jack's affairs—not even when MacFarlane was injured, + nor yet when the freshet might have ruined them all. Ruth's generous + nature had no room in it for petty rancors or little hurts. Then, too, + Jack was troubled for his friend. What was there for her to do but to + follow the lamp he held up to guide her feet—the lamp which now shed + its glad effulgence over both? So they talked on, discussing various ways + and means, new ties born of a deeper understanding binding them the closer—these + two, who, as they sometimes whispered to each other, were “enlisted for + life,” ready to meet it side by side, whatever the day developed. + </p> + <p> + Before they parted, she promised again to go and see Corinne and cheer her + up. “She cannot be left alone, Jack, with this terrible thing hanging over + her,” she urged, “and you must meet Garry when he returns to-night. Then + we can learn what he has done—perhaps he will have fixed everything + himself.” But though Jack went to the station and waited until the arrival + of the last train had dropped its passengers, there was no sign of Garry. + Nor did Ruth find Corinne. She had gone to the city, so the nurse said, + with Mr. Minott by the early train and would not be back until the next + day. Until their return Jack and Ruth found their hands tied. + </p> + <p> + On the afternoon of the second day a boy called at the brick office where + Jack was settling up the final accounts connected with the “fill” and the + tunnel, preparatory to the move to Morfordsburg, and handed him a note. It + was from Corinne. + </p> + <p> + “I am in great trouble. Please come to me at once,” it read. “I am here at + home.” + </p> + <p> + Corinne was waiting for him in the hall. She took his hand without a word + of welcome, and drew him into the small room where she had seen him two + nights before. This time she shut and locked the door. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. McGowan has just been here,” she moaned in a voice that showed how + terrible was the strain. “He tried to force his way up into Garry's room + but I held him back. He is coming again with some one of the church + trustees. Garry had a bad turn in New York and we came home by the noon + train, and I have made him lie down and sent for the doctor. McGowan must + not see him; it will kill him if he does. Don't leave us, Jack!” + </p> + <p> + “But how dare he come here and try to force his—” + </p> + <p> + “He will dare. He cursed and went on dreadfully. The door was shut, but + Garry heard him. Oh, Jack!—what are we to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't worry, Corinne; I'll take care of Mr. McGowan. I myself heard Garry + tell him that he would attend to his payments in a few days, and he went + away satisfied.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but McGowan says he has been to the bank and has also seen the + Rector, and will stop at nothing.” + </p> + <p> + Jack's fingers tightened and his lips came together. + </p> + <p> + “He will stop on that threshold,” he said in a low, determined voice, “and + never pass it—no matter what he wants. I will go up and tell Garry + so.” + </p> + <p> + “No, not yet—wait,” she pleaded, in nervous twitching tones—with + pauses between each sentence. “You must hear it all first. Garry had not + told me all when you were here two nights ago; he did not tell me until + after you left. Then I knelt down by his bed and put my arms around him + and he told me everything—about the people he had seen—and—McGowan—everything.” + She ceased speaking and hid her eyes with the back of one hand as if to + shut out some spectre, then she stumbled on. “We took the early train for + New York, and I waited until my stepfather was in his office and went into + his private room. It was Garry's last hope. He thought Mr. Breen would + listen to me on account of mother. I told him of our dreadful situation; + how Garry must have ten thousand dollars, and must have it in twenty-four + hours, to save us all from ruin. Would you believe, Jack—that he + laughed and said it was an old story; that Garry had no business to be + speculating; that he had told him a dozen times to keep out of the Street; + that if Garry had any collaterals of any kind, he would loan him ten + thousand dollars or any other sum, but that he had no good money to throw + after bad. I did all I could; I almost went down on my knees to him; I + begged for myself and my mother, but he only kept saying—'You go + home, Corinne, and look after your baby—women don't understand these + things.' Oh, Jack!—I could not believe that he was the same man who + married my mother—and he isn't. Every year he has grown harder and + harder; he is a thousand times worse than when you lived with him. Garry + was waiting outside for me, and when I told him he turned as white as a + sheet, and had to hold on to the iron railing for a moment. It was all I + could do to get him home. If he sees Mr. McGowan now it will kill him; he + can't pay him and he must tell him so, and it will all come out.” + </p> + <p> + “But he will pay him, Corinne, when he gets well.” + </p> + <p> + There came a pause. Then she said slowly as if each word was wrung from + her heart: + </p> + <p> + “There is no money. Garry took the trust funds from the church.” + </p> + <p> + “No money, Corinne! You don't mean—you can't—Oh! My God! Not + Garry! No—not Garry!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes! I mean it. He expected to pay it back, but the people he is with in + New York lied to him, and now it is all gone.” There was no change in her + voice. + </p> + <p> + She stood gazing into his face; not a tear in her eyes; no quiver of her + lips. She had passed that stage; she was like a victim led to the stake in + whom nothing but dull endurance is left. + </p> + <p> + Jack backed into a chair and sat with bowed head, his cheeks in his hands. + Had the earth opened under him he could not have been more astounded. + Garry Minott a defaulter! Garry a thief! Everything seemed to whirl about + him—only the woman remained quiet—still standing—her + calm, impassive eyes fixed on his bowed head; her dry, withering, soulless + words still vibrating in the hushed room. + </p> + <p> + “When did this happen, Corinne—this—this taking of Mr. + McGowan's money?” The words came between his closed fingers, as if he, + too, would shut out some horrible shape. + </p> + <p> + “Some two weeks ago.” + </p> + <p> + “When did you know of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Night before last, after you left him. I knew he was in trouble, but I + did not know it was as bad as this. If Mr. Breen had helped me everything + would have been all right, for Garry sold out all the stock he had in the + Warehouse Company, and this ten thousand dollars is all he owes.” She + shivered as she spoke, and her pale, tired eyes closed as if in pain. + Nothing was said between them for a while, and neither of them stirred. + During the silence the front door was heard to open, letting in the + village doctor, who mounted the stairs, his footfalls reverberating in + Garry's room overhead. + </p> + <p> + Jack raised his eyes at last and studied her closely. The frail body + seemed more crumpled and forlorn in the depths of the chair, where she had + sunk, than when she had been standing before him. The blonde hair, always + so glossy, was dry as hemp; the small, upturned nose, once so piquant and + saucy, was thin and pinched—almost transparent; the washed-out, + colorless eyes, which in her girlhood had flashed and sparkled so + roguishly, were half hidden under swollen lids. The arms were flat, the + hands like bird claws. The white heat of a furnace of agony had shrivelled + her poor body, drying up all the juices of its youth. + </p> + <p> + And yet with the scorching there had crept into the wan face, and into the + tones of her tired, heart-broken voice something Jack had never found in + her as a girl—something of tenderness, unselfishness—of + self-sacrifice for another and with it there flamed up in his own heart a + determination to help—to wipe out everything—to sponge the + record, to reestablish the man who in a moment of agony had given way to + an overpowering temptation and brought his wife to this condition. A lump + rose in his throat, and a look of his old father shone out of his face—that + look with which in the years gone by he had defied jury, district + attorney, and public opinion for what he considered mercy. And mercy + should be exercised now. Garry had never done one dishonest act before, + and never, God helping, should he be judged for this. + </p> + <p> + He, John Breen, let Garry be called a common thief! Garry whose every + stand in Corklesville had been for justice; Garry whom Morris loved, whose + presence brought a cheery word of welcome from every room he entered! Let + him be proclaimed a defaulter, insulted by ruffians like McGowan, and + treated like a felon—brilliant, lovable, forceful Garry! Never, if + he had to go down on his knees to Holker Morris or any other man who could + lend him a dollar. + </p> + <p> + Corinne must have seen the new look in his face, for her own eyes + brightened as she asked: + </p> + <p> + “Have you thought of something that can help him?” + </p> + <p> + Jack did not answer. His mind was too intent on finding some thread which + would unravel the tangle. + </p> + <p> + “Does anybody else know of this, Corinne?” he asked at last in a + low-pitched voice. + </p> + <p> + “Nobody.” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody must,” he exclaimed firmly. Then he added gently—“Why did + you tell me?” + </p> + <p> + “He asked me to. It would all have come out in the end, and he didn't want + you to see McGowan and not know the truth. Keep still—some one is + knocking,” she whispered, her fingers pressed to her lips in her fright. + “I know it is McGowan, Jack. Shall I see him, or will you?” + </p> + <p> + “I will—you stay here.” + </p> + <p> + Jack lifted himself erect and braced back his shoulders. He intended to be + polite to McGowan, but he also intended to be firm. He also intended to + refuse him any information or promise of any kind until the regular + monthly meeting of the Church Board which would occur on Monday. This + would give him time to act, and perhaps to save the situation, desperate + as it looked. + </p> + <p> + With this in his mind he turned the key and threw wide the door. It was + the doctor who stood outside. He seemed to be laboring under some + excitement. + </p> + <p> + “I heard you were here, Mr. Breen—come upstairs.” + </p> + <p> + Jacked obeyed mechanically. Garry had evidently heard of his being + downstairs and had some instructions to give, or some further confession + to make. He would save him now from that humiliation; he would get his + arms around him, as Corinne had done, and tell him he was still his friend + and what he yet intended to do to pull him through, and that nothing which + he had done had wrecked his affection for him. + </p> + <p> + As these thoughts rushed over him his pace quickened, mounting the stairs + two steps at a time so that he might save his friend even a moment of + additional suffering. The doctor touched Jack on the shoulder, made a sign + for him to moderate his steps, and the two moved to where his patient lay. + </p> + <p> + Garry was on the bed, outside the covering, when they entered. He was + lying on his back, his head and neck flat on a pillow, one foot resting on + the floor. He was in his trousers and shirt; his coat and waistcoat lay + where he had thrown them. + </p> + <p> + “Garry,” began Jack in a low voice—“I just ran in to say that—” + </p> + <p> + The sick man did not move. + </p> + <p> + Jack stopped, and turned his head to the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “Asleep?” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + “No;—drugged. That's why I wanted you to see him before I called his + wife. Is he accustomed to this sort of thing?” and he picked up a bottle + from the table. + </p> + <p> + Jack took the phial in his hand; it was quite small, and had a glass + stopper. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, doctor?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. Some preparation of chloral, I should think; smells and + looks like it. I'll take it home and find out. If he's been taking this + right along he may know how much he can stand, but if he's experimenting + with it, he'll wake up some fine morning in the next world. What do you + know about it?” + </p> + <p> + “Only what I have heard Mrs. Minott say,” Jack whispered behind his hand. + “He can't sleep without it, she told me. He's been under a terrible + business strain lately and couldn't stand the pressure, I expect.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that's a little better,” returned the doctor, moving the apparently + lifeless arm aside and placing his ear close to the patient's breast. For + a moment he listened intently, then he drew up a chair and sat down beside + him, his fingers on Garry's pulse. + </p> + <p> + “You don't think he's in danger, do you, doctor?” asked Jack in an anxious + tone. + </p> + <p> + “No—he'll pull through. His breathing is bad, but his heart is doing + fairly well. But he's got to stop this sort of thing.” Here the old + doctor's voice rose as his indignation increased (nothing would wake + Garry). “It's criminal—it's damnable! Every time one of you New York + people get worried, or short of money or stocks, or what not, off you go + to a two-cent drug shop and buy enough poison to kill a family. It's + damnable, Breen—and you must tell Minott so when he wakes up.” + </p> + <p> + Jack made no protest against being included in the denunciation. He was + too completely absorbed in the fate of the man who lay in a stupor. + </p> + <p> + “Is there anything can be done for him?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I can't tell yet. He may only have taken a small dose. I will watch him + for a while. But if his pulse weakens we must shake him awake somehow. You + needn't wait I'll call you if I want you, You've told me what I wanted to + know.” + </p> + <p> + Again Jack bent over Garry, his heart wrung with pity and dismay. He was + still there when the door opened softly and a servant entered, tiptoed to + where he stood, and whispered in his ear: + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Minott says, sir, that Mr. McGowan and another man are downstairs.” + </p> + <p> + The contractor was standing in the hall, his hat still on his head. The + other man Jack recognized as Murphy, one of the church building trustees. + That McGowan was in an ugly mood was evident from the expression on his + face, his jaw setting tighter when he discovered that Jack and not Garry + was coming down to meet him; Jack having been associated with MacFarlane, + who had “robbed him of damages” to the “fill.” + </p> + <p> + “I came to see Mr. Minott,” McGowan blurted out before Jack's feet had + touched the bottom step of the stairs. “I hear he's in—come home at + dinner time.” + </p> + <p> + Jack continued his advance without answering until he had reached their + side. Then with a “Good-evening, gentlemen,” he said in a perfectly even + voice: + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Minott is ill and can see no one. I have just left the doctor sitting + beside his bed. If there is anything I can do for either of you I will do + it with pleasure.” + </p> + <p> + McGowan shoved his hat back on his forehead as if to give himself more + air. + </p> + <p> + “That kind of guff won't go with me no longer,” he snarled, his face + growing redder every instant. “This ill business is played out. He + promised me three nights ago he'd make out a certificate next day—you + heard him say it—and I waited for him all the morning and he never + showed up. And then he sneaks off to New York at daylight and stays away + for two nights more, and then sneaks home again in the middle of the day + when you don't expect him, and goes to bed and sends for the doctor. How + many kinds of a damned fool does he take me for? That work's been finished + three weeks yesterday; the money is all in the bank to pay for it just as + soon as he signs the check, and he don't sign it, and ye can't get him to + sign it. Ain't that so, Jim Murphy?” + </p> + <p> + Murphy nodded, and McGowan blazed on: “If you want to know what I think + about it—there's something crooked about the whole business, and it + gets crookeder all the time. He's drunk, if he's anything—boiling + drunk and—” + </p> + <p> + Jack laid the full weight of his hand on the speaker's shoulder: + </p> + <p> + “Stop short off where you are, Mr. McGowan.” The voice came as if through + tightly clenched teeth. “If you have any business that I can attend to I + am here to do it, but you can't remain here and abuse Mr. Minott. My + purpose in coming downstairs was to help you if I could, but you must act + like a man, not like a ruffian.” + </p> + <p> + Murphy stepped quickly between the two men: + </p> + <p> + “Go easy, Mac,” he cried in a conciliatory tone. “If the doctor's with him + ye can't see him. Hear what Mr. Breen has to say; ye got to wait anyhow. + Of course, Mr. Breen, Mr. McGowan is het up because the men is gettin' + ugly, and he ain't got money enough for his next pay-roll, and the last + one ain't all paid yit.” + </p> + <p> + McGowan again shifted his hat—this time he canted it on one side. + His companion's warning had had its effect, for his voice was now pitched + in a lower key. + </p> + <p> + “There ain't no use talking pay-roll to Mr. Breen, Jim,” he growled. “He + knows what it is; he gits up agin' it once in a while himself. If he'll + tell me just when I'm going to get my money I'll wait like any decent man + would wait, but I want to know, and I want to know now.” + </p> + <p> + At that instant the door of the sitting-room opened, and Corinne, + shrinking as one in mortal fright, glided out and made a hurried escape + upstairs. Murphy sagged back against the wall and waited respectfully for + her to disappear. McGowan did not alter his position nor did he remove his + hat, though he waited until she had reached the landing before speaking + again: + </p> + <p> + “And now, what are you going to do, Mr. Breen?” he demanded in threatening + tones. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing,” said Jack in his same even voice, his eyes never moving from + the contractor's. “Nothing, until you get into a different frame of mind.” + Then he turned to Murphy: “When Mr. McGowan removes his hat, Mr. Murphy, + and shows some sign of being a gentleman I will take you both into the + next room and talk this matter over.” + </p> + <p> + McGowan flushed scarlet and jerked his hat from his head. + </p> + <p> + “Well she come on me sudden like and I didn't see her till she'd got by. + Of course, if you've got anything to say, I'm here to listen, Where'll we + go?” + </p> + <p> + Jack turned and led the way into the sitting-room, where he motioned them + both to seats. + </p> + <p> + “And now what is the exact amount of your voucher?” he asked, when he had + drawn up a chair and sat facing them. + </p> + <p> + McGowan fumbled in his inside pocket and drew forth a slip of paper. + </p> + <p> + “A little short of ten thousand dollars,” he answered in a business-like + tone of voice. “There's the figures,” and he handed the slip to Jack. + </p> + <p> + “When is this payment to be made?” continued Jack, glancing at the slip. + </p> + <p> + “Why, when the money is due, of course,” he cried in a louder key. “Here's + the contract—see—read it; then you'll know.” + </p> + <p> + Jack ran his eye over the document until it fell on the payment clause. + This he read twice, weighing each word. + </p> + <p> + “It says at the monthly meeting of the Board of Trustees, does it not?” he + answered, smothering all trace of the relief the words brought him. + </p> + <p> + McGowan changed color. “Well, yes—but that ain't the way the + payments has always been made,” he stammered out. + </p> + <p> + “And if I am right, the meeting takes place on Monday next?” continued + Jack in a decided tone, not noticing the interruption. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I suppose so.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, Monday night, Mr. McGowan, either Mr. Minott or I will be on + hand. You must excuse me now. Mrs. Minott wants me, I think,” and he + handed McGowan the contract and walked toward the door, where he stood + listening. Something was happening upstairs. + </p> + <p> + McGowan and his friend looked at each other in silence. The commotion + overhead only added to their discomfiture. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what do you think, Jim?” McGowan said at last in a subdued, baffled + voice. + </p> + <p> + “Well, there ain't no use thinkin', Mac. If it's writ that way, it's writ + that way; that's all there is to it—” and the two joined Jack who + had stepped into the hall, his eyes up the stairway as if he was listening + intensely. + </p> + <p> + “Then you say, Mr. Breen, that Mr. Minott will meet us at the Board + meeting on Monday?” + </p> + <p> + Jack was about to reply when he caught sight of the doctor, his hand + sliding rapidly down the stair-rail as he approached. + </p> + <p> + McGowan, fearing to be interrupted, repeated his question in a louder + voice: + </p> + <p> + “Then you say I'll see Mr. Minott on Monday?” + </p> + <p> + The doctor crossed to Jack's side. He was breathing heavily, his lips + quivering; he looked like a man who had received some sudden shock. + </p> + <p> + “Go up to Mrs. Minott,” he gasped. “It's all over, Breen. He's dying. He + took the whole bottle.” + </p> + <p> + At this instant an agonizing shriek cut the air. It was the voice of + Corinne. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII + </h2> + <p> + No one suspected that the young architect had killed himself. Garry was + known to have suffered from insomnia, and was supposed to have taken an + overdose of chloral. The doctor so decided, and the doctor's word was law + in such MATTERS, and so there was no coroner's inquest. Then again, it was + also known that he was doing a prosperous business with several buildings + still in course of construction, and that his wife's stepfather was a + prominent banker. + </p> + <p> + McGowan and his friends were stupefied. One hope was left, and that was + Jack's promise that either he or Garry would be at the trustees' meeting + on Monday night. + </p> + <p> + Jack had not forgotten. Indeed nothing else filled his mind. There were + still three days in which to work. The shock of his friend's death, + tremendous as it was, had only roused him to a greater need of action. The + funeral was to take place on Sunday, but he had Saturday and Monday left. + What he intended to do for Garry and his career he must now do for Garry's + family and Garry's reputation. The obligation had really increased, + because Garry could no longer fight his battles himself; nor was there a + moment to lose. The slightest spark of suspicion would kindle a flame of + inquiry, and the roar of an investigation would follow. McGowan had + already voiced his own distrust of Garry's methods. No matter what the + cost, this money must be found before Monday night. + </p> + <p> + The secret of both the suicide and the defalcation was carefully guarded + from MacFarlane, who, with his daughter, went at once to Minott's house, + proffering his services to the stricken widow, but nothing was withheld + from Ruth. The serious financial obligations which Jack was about to + undertake would inevitably affect their two lives; greater, therefore, + than the loyalty he owed to the memory of his dead friend, was the loyalty + which he owed to the woman who was to be his wife, and from whom he had + promised to hide no secrets. Though he felt sure what her answer would be, + his heart gave a great bound of relief when she answered impulsively, + without a thought for herself or their future: + </p> + <p> + “You are right, dearest. These things make me love you more. You are so + splendid, Jack. And you never disappoint me. It is Garry's poor little boy + who must be protected. Everybody would pity the wife, but nobody would + pity the child. He will always be pointed at when he grows up. Dear little + tot! He lay in my arms so sweet and fresh this morning, and put his baby + hands upon my cheek, and looked so appealingly into my face. Oh, Jack, we + must help him. He has done nothing.” + </p> + <p> + They were sitting together as she spoke, her head on his shoulder, her + fingers held tight in his strong, brown hand. She could get closer to him + in this position, she always told him: these hands and cheeks were the + poles of a battery between which flowed and flashed the vitality of two + sound bodies, and through which quivered the ecstasy of two souls. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the thought of Garry and what he had been, in the days of his + brilliancy, and of what he had done to crush the lives about him came to + her. Could she not find some excuse for him, something which she might use + as her own silent defence of him in the years that were to come? + </p> + <p> + “Do you think Garry was out of his mind, Jack? He's been so depressed + lately?” she asked, all her sympathy in her voice. + </p> + <p> + “No, my blessed, I don't think so. Everybody is more or less insane who + succumbs to a crisis. Garry believed absolutely in himself and his luck, + and when the cards went against him he collapsed. And yet he was no more a + criminal at heart than I am. But that is all over now. He has his + punishment, poor boy, and it is awful when you think of it. How he could + bring himself to prove false to his trust is the worst thing about it. + This is a queer world, my darling, in which we live. I never knew much + about it until lately. It is not so at home, or was not when I was a boy—but + here you can take away a man's character, rob him of his home, corrupt his + children. You can break your wife's heart, be cruel, revengeful; you can + lie and be tricky, and no law can touch you—in fact, you are still a + respectable citizen. But if you take a dollar-bill out of another man's + cash drawer, you are sent to jail and branded as a thief. And it is right—looked + at from one standpoint—the protection of society. It is the absence + of all mercy in the enforcement of the law that angers me.” + </p> + <p> + Ruth moved her head and nestled the closer. How had she lived all the + years of her life, she thought to herself, without this shoulder to lean + on and this hand to guide her? She made no answer. She had never thought + about these things in that way before, but she would now. It was so + restful and so blissful just to have him lead her, he who was so strong + and self-reliant, and whose vision was so clear, and who never dwelt upon + the little issues. And it was such a relief to reach up her arms and kiss + him and say, “Yes, blessed,” and to feel herself safe in his hands. She + had never been able to do that with her father. He had always leaned on + her when schemes of economies were to be thought out, or details of their + daily lives planned. All this was changed now. She had found Jack's heart + wide open and had slipped inside, his strong will henceforth to be hers. + </p> + <p> + Still cuddling close, her head on his shoulder, her heart going out to him + as she thought of the next morning and the task before him, she talked of + their coming move to the mountains, and of the log-cabin for which Jack + had already given orders; of the approaching autumn and winter and what + they would make of it, and of dear daddy's plans and profits, and of how + long they must wait before a larger log-cabin—one big enough for two—would + be theirs for life—any and every topic which she thought would + divert his mind—but Garry's ghost would not down. + </p> + <p> + “And what are you going to do first, my darling?” she asked at last, + finding that Jack answered only in monosyllables or remained silent + altogether. + </p> + <p> + “I am going to see Uncle Arthur in the morning,” he answered quickly, + uncovering his brooding thoughts. “It won't do any good, perhaps, but I + will try it. I have never asked him for a cent for myself, and I won't + now. He may help Corinne this time, now that Garry is dead. There must be + some outside money due Garry that he has not been able to collect—commissions + on unfinished work. This can be turned in when it is due. Then I am going + to Uncle Peter, and after that to some of the people we trade with.” + </p> + <p> + Breen was standing by the ticker when Jack entered. It was a busy day in + the Street and values were going up by leaps and bounds. The broker was + not in a good humor; many of his customers were short of the market. + </p> + <p> + He followed Jack into his private office and faced him. + </p> + <p> + “Funeral's at one o'clock Sunday, I see,” he said in a sharp voice, as if + he resented the incident. “Your aunt and I will be out on the noon train. + She got back this morning, pretty well bunged up. Killed himself, didn't + he?” + </p> + <p> + “That is not the doctor's opinion, sir, and he was with him when he died.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it looks that way to me. He's busted—and all balled up in the + Street. If you know anybody who will take the lease off Corinne's hands, + let me know. She and the baby are coming to live with us.” + </p> + <p> + Jack replied that he would make it his business to do so, with pleasure, + and after giving his uncle the details of Garry's death he finally arrived + at the tangled condition of his affairs. + </p> + <p> + Breen promptly interrupted him. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, so Corinne told me. She was in here one day last week and wanted to + borrow ten thousand dollars. I told her it didn't grow on trees. Suppose I + had given it to her? Where would it be now. Might as well have thrown it + in the waste-basket. So I shut down on the whole business—had to.” + </p> + <p> + Jack waited until his uncle had relieved his mind. The state of the market + had something to do with his merciless point of view; increasing + irritability, due to loss of sleep, and his habits had more. The outburst + over, Jack said in a calm direct voice, watching the effect of the words + as a gunner watches a shell from his gun: + </p> + <p> + “Will you lend it to me, sir?” + </p> + <p> + Arthur was pacing his private office, casting about in his mind how to + terminate the interview, when Jack's shot overhauled him. Garry's sudden + death had already led him to waste a few more minutes of his time than he + was accustomed to on a morning like this, unless there was business in it. + </p> + <p> + He turned sharply, looked at Jack for an instant, and dropped into the + revolving chair fronting his desk. + </p> + <p> + Then he said in a tone of undisguised surprise: + </p> + <p> + “Lend you ten thousand dollars! What for?” + </p> + <p> + “To clear up some matters of Garry's at Corklesville. The Warehouse matter + has been closed out, so Corinne tells me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that's it, is it? I thought you wanted it for yourself. Who signs for + it?” + </p> + <p> + “I do.” + </p> + <p> + “On what collateral?” + </p> + <p> + “My word.” + </p> + <p> + Breen leaned back in his chair. The unsophisticated innocence of this boy + from the country would be amusing if it were not so stupid. + </p> + <p> + “What are you earning, Jack?” he said at last, with a half-derisive, + half-humorous expression on his face. + </p> + <p> + “A thousand dollars a year.” Jack had never taken his eyes from his + uncle's face, nor had he moved a muscle of his body. + </p> + <p> + “And it would take you ten years to pay it if you dumped it all in?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Got anything else to offer?” This came in a less supercilious tone. The + calm, direct manner of the young man had begun to have its effect. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing but my ore property.” + </p> + <p> + “That's good for nothing. I made a mistake when I wanted you to put it in + here. Glad you didn't take me up.” + </p> + <p> + “So am I. My own investigation showed the same thing.” + </p> + <p> + “And the ore's of poor quality,” continued Breen in a decided tone. + </p> + <p> + “Very poor quality, what I saw of it,” rejoined Jack. + </p> + <p> + “Well, we will check that off. MacFarlane got any thing he could turn in?” + </p> + <p> + “No—and I wouldn't ask him.” + </p> + <p> + “And you mean to tell me, Jack, that you are going broke yourself to help + a dead man pay his debts?” + </p> + <p> + “If you choose to put it that way.” + </p> + <p> + “Put it that way? Why, what other way is there to put it? You'll excuse + me, Jack—but you always were a fool when your damned idiotic notions + of what is right and wrong got into your head—and you'll never get + over it. You might have had an interest in my business by this time, and + be able to write your check in four figures; and yet here you are cooped + up in a Jersey village, living at a roadside tavern, and getting a + thousand dollars a year. That's what your father did before you; went + round paying everybody's debts; never could teach him anything; died poor, + just as I told him he would.” + </p> + <p> + Jack had to hold on to his chair to keep his mouth closed. His father's + memory was dangerous ground for any man to tread on—even his + father's brother; but the stake for which he was playing was too great to + be risked by his own anger. + </p> + <p> + “No, Jack,” Breen continued, gathering up a mass of letters and jamming + them into a pigeon-hole in front of him, as if the whole matter was set + forth in their pages and he was through with it forever. “No—I guess + I'll pass on that ten thousand-dollar loan. I am sorry, but A. B. & + Co, haven't any shekels for that kind of tommy-rot. As to your helping + Minott, what I've got to say to you is just this: let the other fellow + walk—the fellow Garry owes money to—but don't you butt in. + They'll only laugh at you. Now you will have to excuse me—the + market's kiting, and I've got to watch it. Give my love to Ruth. Your aunt + and I will be out on the noon train for the funeral. Good-by.” + </p> + <p> + It was what he had expected. He would, perhaps, have stood a better chance + if he had read him Peter's encouraging letter of the director's opinion of + his Cumberland property, and he might also have brought him up standing + (and gone away with the check in his pocket) if he had told him that the + money was to save his own wife's daughter and grandchild from disgrace—but + that secret was not his. Only as a last, desperate resource would he lay + that fact bare to a man like Arthur Breen, and perhaps not even then. John + Breen's word was, or ought to be, sacred enough on which to borrow ten + thousand dollars or any other sum. That meant a mortgage on his life until + every cent was paid. + </p> + <p> + Do not smile, dear reader. He is only learning his first lesson in modern + finance. All young men “raised” as Jack had been—and the Scribe is + one of them—would have been of the same mind at his age. In a great + city, when your tea-kettle starts to leaking, you never borrow a whole one + from your neighbor; you send to the shop at the corner and buy another. In + the country—Jack's country, I mean—miles from a store, you + borrow your neighbor's, who promptly borrows your saucepan in return. And + it was so in larger matters: the old Chippendale desk with its secret + drawer was often the bank—the only one, perhaps, in a week's + journey. It is astonishing in these days to think how many dingy, tattered + or torn bank-notes were fished out of these same receptacles and handed + over to a neighbor with the customary—“With the greatest pleasure, + my dear sir. When you can sell your corn or hogs, or that mortgage is paid + off, you can return it.” A man who was able to lend, and who still refused + to lend, to a friend in his adversity, was a pariah. He had committed the + unpardonable sin. And the last drop of the best Madeira went the same way + and with equal graciousness! + </p> + <p> + Peter, at Jack's knock, opened the door himself. Isaac Cohen had just come + in to show him a new book, and Peter supposed some one from the shop below + had sent upstairs for him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! it's you, my boy!” Peter cried in his hearty way, his arms around + Jack's shoulders as he drew him inside the room. Then something in the + boy's face checked him, bringing to mind the tragedy. “Yes, I read it all + in the papers,” he exclaimed in a sympathetic voice. “Terrible, isn't it! + Poor Minott. How are his wife and the poor little baby—and dear + Ruth. The funeral is to-morrow I see by the papers. Yes, of course I'm + going.” As he spoke he turned his head and scanned Jack closely. + </p> + <p> + “Are you ill, my boy?” he asked in an anxious tone, leading him to a seat + on the sofa. “You look terribly worn.” + </p> + <p> + “We all have our troubles, Uncle Peter,” Jack replied with a glance at + Cohen, who had risen from his chair to shake his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—but not you. Out with it! Isaac doesn't count. Anything you can + tell me you can tell him. What's the matter?—is it Ruth?” + </p> + <p> + Jack's face cleared. “No, she is lovely, and sent you her dearest love.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it's your work up in the valley?” + </p> + <p> + “No—we begin in a month. Everything's ready—or will be.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I see, it's the loss of Minott. Oh, yes, I understand it all now. + Forgive me, Jack. I did not remember how intimate you and he were once. + Yes, it is a dreadful thing to lose a friend. Poor boy!” + </p> + <p> + “No—it's not that altogether, Uncle Peter.” + </p> + <p> + He could not tell him. The dear old gentleman was ignorant of everything + regarding Garry and his affairs, except that he was a brilliant young + architect, with a dashing way about him, of whom Morris was proud. This + image he could not and would not destroy. And yet something must be done + to switch Peter from the main subject—at least until Cohen should + leave. + </p> + <p> + “The fact is I have just had an interview with Uncle Arthur, and he has + rather hurt my feelings,” Jack continued in explanation, a forced smile on + his face. “I wanted to borrow a little money. All I had to offer as + security was my word.” + </p> + <p> + Peter immediately became interested. Nothing delighted him so much as to + talk over Jack's affairs. Was he not a silent partner in the concern? + </p> + <p> + “You wanted it, of course, to help out on the new work,” he rejoined. + “Yes, it always takes money in the beginning. And what did the old fox + say?” + </p> + <p> + Jack smiled meaningly. “He said that what I called 'my word' wasn't a + collateral. Wanted something better. So I've got to hunt for it somewhere + else.” + </p> + <p> + “And he wouldn't give it to you?” cried Peter indignantly. “No, of course + not! A man's word doesn't count with these pickers and stealers. Half—three-quarters—of + the business of the globe is done on a man's word. He writes it on the + bottom or on the back of a slip of paper small enough to light a cigar + with—but it's only his word that counts. In these mouse-traps, + however, these cracks in the wall, they want something they can get rid of + the moment somebody else says it is not worth what they loaned on it; or + they want a bond with the Government behind it. Oh, I know them!” + </p> + <p> + Cohen laughed—a dry laugh—in compliment to Peter's way of + putting it—but there was no ring of humor in it. He had been reading + Jack's mind. There was something behind the forced smile that Peter had + missed—something deeper than the lines of anxiety and the haunted + look in the eyes. This was a different lad from the one with whom he had + spent so pleasant an evening some weeks before. What had caused the + change? + </p> + <p> + “Don't you abuse them, Mr. Grayson—these pawn-brokers,” he said in + his slow, measured way. “If every man was a Turk we could take his word, + but when they are Jews and Christians and such other unreliable people, of + course they want something for their ducats. It's the same old pound of + flesh. Very respectable firm this, Mr. Arthur Breen & Co.—VERY + respectable people. I used to press off the elder gentleman's coat—he + had only two—one of them I made myself when he first came to New + York—but he has forgotten all about it now,” and the little tailor + purred softly. + </p> + <p> + “If you had pressed out his morals, Isaac, it would have helped some.” + </p> + <p> + “They didn't need it. He was a very quiet young man and very polite; not + so fat, or so red or so rich, as he is now. I saw him the other day in our + bank. You see,” and he winked slyly at Jack, “these grand people must + borrow sometimes, like the rest of us; but he never remembers me any + more.” Isaac paused for a moment as if the reminiscence had recalled some + amusing incident. When he continued his face had a broad smile—“and + I must say, too, that he always paid his bills. Once, when he was afraid + he could not pay, he wanted to bring the coat back, but I wouldn't let + him. Oh, yes, a very nice young man, Mr. Arthur Breen,” and the tailor's + plump body shook with suppressed laughter. + </p> + <p> + “You know, of course, that he is this young man's uncle,” said Peter, + laying his hand affectionately on Jack's shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I know about it. I saw the likeness that first day you came in,” + he continued, nodding to Jack. “It was one of the times when your sister, + the magnificent Miss Grayson was here, Mr. Grayson.” Isaac always called + her so, a merry twinkle in his eye when he said it, but with a face and + voice showing nothing but the deepest respect; at which Peter would laugh + a gentle laugh in apology for his sister's peculiarities, a dislike of + little tailors being one of them—this little tailor especially. + </p> + <p> + “And now, Mr. Breen, I hope you will have better luck,” Isaac said, rising + from his chair and holding out his hand. + </p> + <p> + “But you are not going, Isaac,” protested Peter. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, this young gentleman, I see, is in a good deal of trouble and I + cannot help him much, so I will go away,” and with a wave of his pudgy + hand he shut the door behind him and trotted downstairs to his shop. + </p> + <p> + Jack waited until the sound of his retreating footsteps assured the Jew's + permanent departure, then he turned to Peter. + </p> + <p> + “I did not want to say too much before Mr. Cohen, but Uncle Arthur's + refusal has upset me completely. I could not have believed it of him. You + must help me somehow, Uncle Peter. I don't mean with your own money; you + have not got it to spare—but so I can get it somewhere. I must have + it, and I can't rest until I do get it.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, my dear boy! Is it so bad as that? I thought you were joking.” + </p> + <p> + “I tried to joke about it while Mr. Cohen was here, but he saw through it, + I know, from the way he spoke: but this really is a very serious matter; + more serious than anything that ever happened to me.” + </p> + <p> + Peter walked to the sofa and sat down. Jack's manner and the tone of his + voice showed that a grave calamity had overtaken the boy. He sat looking + into Jack's eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” he said, his heart in his mouth. + </p> + <p> + “I must have ten thousand dollars. How and where can I borrow it?” + </p> + <p> + Peter started. “Ten thousand dollars!” he repeated in undisguised + surprise. “Whew! Why, Jack, that's a very large sum of money for you to + want. Why, my dear boy, this is—well—well!” + </p> + <p> + “It is not for me, Uncle Peter—or I would not come to you for it.” + </p> + <p> + “For whom is it, then?” Peter asked, in a tone that showed how great was + his relief now that Jack was not involved. + </p> + <p> + “Don't ask me, please.” + </p> + <p> + Peter was about to speak, but he checked himself. He saw it all now. The + money was for MacFarlane, and the boy did not like to say so. He had heard + something of Henry's financial difficulties caused by the damage to the + “fill.” He thought that this had been made good; he saw now that he was + misinformed. + </p> + <p> + “When do you want it, Jack?” he resumed. He was willing to help, no matter + who it was for. + </p> + <p> + “Before Monday night.” + </p> + <p> + Peter drew out his watch as if to find some relief from its dial, and + slipped it into his pocket again. It was not yet three o'clock and his + bank was still open, but it did not contain ten thousand dollars or any + other sum that he could draw upon. Besides, neither Jack, nor MacFarlane, + nor anybody connected with Jack, had an account at the Exeter. The + discounting of their notes was, therefore, out of the question. + </p> + <p> + “To-day is a short business day, Jack, being Saturday,” he said with a + sigh. “If I had known of this before I might have—and yet to tell + you the simple truth, my boy, I don't know a human being in the world who + would lend me that much money, or whom I could ask for it.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought maybe Mr. Morris might, if you went to him, but I understand he + is out of town,” returned Jack. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Peter in a perplexed tone—“yes—Holker has gone + to Chicago and won't be back for a week.” He, too, had thought of Morris + and the instantaneous way in which he would have reached for his + check-book. + </p> + <p> + “And you must have it by Monday night?” Peter continued, his thoughts + bringing into review one after the other all the moneyed men he knew. + “Well—well—that IS a very short notice. It means Monday to + hunt in, really—to-morrow being Sunday.” + </p> + <p> + He leaned back and sat in deep thought, Jack watching every expression + that crossed his face. Perhaps Ruth was mixed up in it in some way. + Perhaps their marriage depended upon it—not directly, but indirectly—making + a long postponement inevitable. Perhaps MacFarlane had some old score to + settle. This contracting was precarious business. Once before he had known + Henry to be in just such straits. Again he consulted his watch. + </p> + <p> + Then a new and cheering thought struck him. He rose quickly from his seat + on the sofa and crossed the room to get his hat. + </p> + <p> + “It is a forlorn hope, Jack, but I'll try it. Come back here in an hour—or + stay here and wait.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I'll keep moving,” replied Jack. “I have thought of some supply men + who know me; our account is considerable; they would lend it to Mr. + MacFarlane, but that's not the way I want it. I'll see them and get back + as soon as I can—perhaps in a couple of hours.” + </p> + <p> + “Then make it eight o'clock, so as to be sure. I have thought of something + else. Ten thousand dollars,” he kept muttering to himself—“ten + thousand dollars”—as he put on his hat and moved to the door. There + he stopped and faced about—his bushy brows tightening as a new + difficulty confronted him. “Well, but for how long?” That part of the + transaction Jack had forgotten to mention. + </p> + <p> + “I can't tell; maybe a year—maybe more.” + </p> + <p> + Peter advanced a step as if to return to the room and give up the whole + business. + </p> + <p> + “But Jack, my boy, don't you see how impossible a loan of that kind is?” + </p> + <p> + Jack stood irresolute. In his mad desire to save Garry he had not + considered that phase of the matter. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—but I've GOT TO HAVE IT,” he cried in a positive tone. “You + would feel just as I do, if you knew the circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + Peter turned without a word and opened the door leading into the hall. “Be + back here at eight,” was all he said as he shut the door behind him and + clattered down the uncarpeted stairs. + </p> + <p> + Shortly before the appointed hour Jack again mounted the three flights of + steps to Peter's rooms. He had had a queer experience—queer for him. + The senior member of one supply firm had looked at him sharply, and had + then said with a contemptuous smile, “Well, we are looking for ten + thousand dollars ourselves, and will pay a commission to get it.” Another + had replied that they were short, or would be glad to oblige him, and as + soon as Jack left the office had called to their bookkeeper to “send + MacFarlane his account, and say we have some heavy payments to meet, and + will he oblige us with a check”—adding to his partner—“Something + rotten in Denmark, or that young fellow wouldn't be looking around for a + wad as big as that.” A third merchant heard him out, and with some feeling + in his voice said: “I'm sorry for you, Breen”—Jack's need of money + was excuse enough for the familiarity—“for Mr. MacFarlane thinks + everything of you, he's told me so a dozen times—and there isn't any + finer man living than Henry MacFarlane. But, just as your friend, let me + tell you to stay out of the Street; it's no place for a young man like + you. No—I don't mean any offence. If I didn't believe in you myself, + I wouldn't say it. Take my advice and stay out.” + </p> + <p> + And so footsore and heart-sore, his face haggard from hunger, for he had + eaten nothing since breakfast, his purpose misunderstood, his own + character assailed, his pride humiliated, and with courage almost gone, he + strode into Peter's room and threw himself into a chair. + </p> + <p> + Peter heard his step and entered from his bedroom, where he had finished + dressing for dinner. The old fellow seemed greatly troubled. One glance at + Jack's face told the story of the afternoon. + </p> + <p> + “You have done nothing, Jack?” he asked in a despondent tone. + </p> + <p> + “No—have you?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing. Portman has gone to his place on Long Island, the others were + out. Whom did you see?” + </p> + <p> + “Some people we do business with; some of them laughed at me; some gave me + advice; none of them had any money.” + </p> + <p> + “I expected it. I don't think you are quite aware of what you ask, my dear + boy.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I am not, but I am beginning to see. It is a new experience for + me. If my father had wanted the money for the same purpose for which I + want this, he would not have had to drive a mile from his house before he + would have had it.” + </p> + <p> + “Your father lived in a different atmosphere, my boy; in another age, + really. In his environment money meant the education of children, the + comfort of women, and the hospitalities that make up social life.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, is not that true now, among decent people?” protested Jack, his + mind going back to some homes he remembered. + </p> + <p> + “No—not generally—not here in New York. Money here means the + right to exist on the planet; we fight for it as we do for our lives. Your + own need of this ten thousand dollars proves it. The men I tried to find + this afternoon have more than they need or ever will need; that's why I + called on them. If I lost it, it wouldn't matter to them, but I would + never hear the last of it all the same,” and a shudder ran through him. + </p> + <p> + Peter did not tell Jack that had Portman been at home and, out of + friendship for him, had agreed to his request, he would have required the + old fellow's name on a demand note for the amount of the loan; and that he + would willingly have signed it, to relieve the boy's mind and ward off the + calamity that threatened those he loved and those who loved him—not + one cent of which, the Scribe adds in all positiveness, would the boy have + taken had he known that the dear fellow had in any way pledged himself for + its return. + </p> + <p> + For some minutes Jack sat stretched out in his chair, his body aslant; + Peter still beside him. All the events of the day and night passed in + review before him; Garry's face and heavy breathing; McGowan's visit and + defiance; Corinne's agonized shriek—even the remembrance made him + creep—then Ruth's voice and her pleading look: “The poor little boy. + Jack. He has done no wrong—all his life he must be pointed at.” + </p> + <p> + He dragged himself to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “I will go back to Ruth now, Uncle Peter. Thank you for trying. I know it + is a wild goose chase, but I must keep moving. You will be out to-morrow; + we bury poor Garry at one o'clock. I still have all day Monday. + Good-night.” + </p> + <p> + “Come out and dine with me, my boy—we will go to—” + </p> + <p> + “No, Ruth is worrying. I will get something to eat when I get home. + Good-night!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX + </h2> + <p> + Jack descended Peter's stairs one step at a time, Each seemed to plunge + him the deeper into some pit of despair. Before he reached the bottom he + began to realize the futility of his efforts. He began to realize, too, + that both he and Ruth had been swept off their feet by their emotions. + MacFarlane, the elder Breen, and now Peter, had all either openly + condemned his course or had given it scant encouragement. There was + nothing to go new but go home and tell Ruth. Then, after the funeral was + over, he would have another talk with MacFarlane. + </p> + <p> + He had reached the cool air of the street, and stood hesitating whether to + cross the Square on his way to the ferry, or to turn down the avenue, when + the door of Isaac Cohen's shop opened, and the little tailor put out his + head. + </p> + <p> + “I have been waiting for you.” he said in a measured voice. “Come inside.” + </p> + <p> + Jack was about to tell him that he must catch a train, when something in + the tailor's manner and the earnestness with which he spoke, made the + young fellow alter his mind and follow him. + </p> + <p> + The little man led the way through the now darkened and empty shop, + lighted by one gas jet—past the long cutting counter flanked by + shelves bearing rolls of cloth and paper patterns, around the octagon + stove where the irons were still warm, and through the small door which + led into his private room. There he turned up a reading lamp, its light + softened by a green shade, and motioning Jack to a seat, said abruptly, + but politely—more as a request than a demand: + </p> + <p> + “I have a question to ask you, and you will please tell me the truth. How + much money do you want, and what do you want it for?” + </p> + <p> + Jack bit his lip. He wanted money, and he wanted it badly, but the tailor + had no right to pry into his private affairs—certainly not in this + way. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that was something I was talking to Uncle Peter about,” he rejoined + stiffly. “I suppose you must have overheard.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I did. Go on—how much money do you want, and what do you want + it for?” + </p> + <p> + “But, Mr. Cohen, I don't think I ought to bother you with my troubles. + They wouldn't interest you.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, my dear young man, you will please not misunderstand me. You are + very intelligent, and you are very honest, and you always say what is in + your heart; I have heard you do it many times. Now say it to me.” + </p> + <p> + There was no mistaking the tailor's earnestness. It evidently was not mere + curiosity which prompted him. It was something else. Jack wondered vaguely + if the Jew wanted to turn money-lender at a big percentage. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you want to know?” he asked; more to gain time to fathom his + purpose than with any intention of giving him the facts. + </p> + <p> + Isaac went to his desk, opened with great deliberation an ebony box, took + out two cigars, offered one to Jack, leaned over the lamp until his own + was alight, and took the chair opposite Jack's. All this time Jack sat + watching him as a child does a necromancer, wondering what he meant to do + next. + </p> + <p> + “Why do I want to know, Mr. Breen? Well, I will tell you. I have loved Mr. + Grayson for a great many years. When he goes out in the morning he always + looks through the glass window and waves his hand. If I am not in sight, + he opens the door and calls inside, 'Ah, good-morning, Isaac.' At night, + when he comes home, he waves his hand again. I know every line in his + face, and it is always a happy face. Once or twice a week he comes in + here, and we talk. That is his chair—the one you are sitting in. + Once or twice a week I go up and sit in his chair and talk. In all the + years I have known him I have only seen him troubled once or twice. Then I + asked him the reason, and he told me. To-day I heard you speak about some + money you wanted, and then I saw that something had gone wrong. After I + left he came downstairs and passed my window and did not look in. I + watched him go up the street, he walked very slow, and his head was down + on his chest. I did not like it. A little while ago he came back; I went + out to meet him. I said, 'Mr. Grayson, what troubles you?' And he said—'Nothing, + Isaac, thank you,' and went upstairs. That is the first time in all the + years I know him that he answered me like that. So now I ask you once more—how + much money do you want, and what do you want it for? When I know this, + then I will know what troubles Mr. Grayson. There is always a woman or a + sum of money at the bottom of every complication. Mr. Grayson never + worries over either. I do not believe you do, but I have had many + surprises in my life.” + </p> + <p> + Jack had heard him through without interruption. Most of it—especially + Cohen's affection for Peter—he had known before. It was the last + statement that roused him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you must know, Mr. Cohen—it is not for myself, but for a + friend.” + </p> + <p> + The Jew smiled. He saw that the young man had told the truth. Peter's + confidence in the boy, then, need not be shaken. + </p> + <p> + “And how much money do you need for your friend?” His eyes were still + reading Jack. + </p> + <p> + “Well, a very large sum.” Jack did not like the cross-examination, but + somehow he could not resent it. + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear young man, will you not tell me? If you buy a coat, do you + not want to know the price? If you pay for an indiscretion, is not the sum + named in the settlement?” + </p> + <p> + “Ten thousand dollars.” + </p> + <p> + There was no change in the Jew's face. The smile did not alter. + </p> + <p> + “And this is the money that Mr. Grayson tried to borrow for you, and + failed? Is it not so?” + </p> + <p> + Jack nodded. + </p> + <p> + “And you have tried everywhere to get it yourself? All the afternoon you + have been at it?” Still the same queer smile—one of confirmation, as + if he had known it all the time. + </p> + <p> + Again Jack nodded. Isaac was either a mind reader or he must have been + listening at the keyhole when he poured out his heart to Peter. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that is what I thought when I saw you come in a little while ago, + dragging your feet as if they were lead, and your eyes on the ground. The + step and the eye, Mr. Breen, if you did but know it, make a very good + commercial agency. When the eye is bright and the walk is quick, your + customer has the money to pay either in his pocket or in his bank; when + the step is dull and sluggish, you take a risk; when the eye looks about + with an anxious glance and the step is stealthy, and then when you take + the measure for the coat, both go out dancing, you may never get a penny. + But that is only to tell you how I know,” the tailor chuckled softly. “And + now one thing more”—he was serious now—“when must you have + this ten thousand dollars?” + </p> + <p> + “Before Monday night.” + </p> + <p> + “In cash?” + </p> + <p> + “In cash or something I can get cash on.” + </p> + <p> + The tailor rose from his seat with a satisfied air—he had evidently + reached the point he had been striving for—laid the stump of his + cigar on the edge of the mantel, crossed the room, fumbled in the side + pocket of a coat which hung on a nail in an open closet; drew out a small + key; sauntered leisurely to his desk, all the while crooning a tune to + himself—Jack following his every movement, wondering what it all + meant, and half regretting that he had not kept on to the ferry instead of + wasting his time. Here he unlocked a drawer, took out a still smaller key—a + flat one this time—removed some books and a small Barye bronze tiger + from what appeared to be a high square table, rolled back the cloth, + bringing into view an old-fashioned safe, applied the key and swung back a + heavy steel door. Here, still crooning his song in a low key, dropping it + and picking it up again as he moved—quite as does the grave-digger + in “Hamlet”—he drew forth a long, flat bundle and handed it to Jack. + </p> + <p> + “Take them, Mr. Breen, and put them in your inside pocket. There are ten + United States Government bonds. If these Breen people will not lend you + the amount of money you want, take them to Mr. Grayson's bank. Only do not + tell him I gave them to you. I bought them yesterday and was going to lock + them up in my safe deposit vault, only I could not leave my shop. Oh, you + needn't look so scared. They are good,” and he loosened the wrapper. + </p> + <p> + Jack sprang from his seat. For a moment he could not speak. + </p> + <p> + “But, Mr. Cohen! Do you know I haven't any security to offer you, and that + I have only my salary and—” + </p> + <p> + “Have I asked you for any?” Isaac replied with a slight shrug, a quizzical + smile crossing his face. + </p> + <p> + “No—but—” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, then, we will not talk about it. You are young—you are + hard-working; you left a very rich home on Fifth Avenue to go and live in + a dirty hotel in a country village—all because you were honest; you + risked your life to save your employer; and now you want to go into debt + to save a friend. Ah—you see, I know all about you, my dear Mr. John + Breen. Mr. Grayson has told me, and if he had not, I could read your face. + No—no—no—we will not talk about such things as cent per + cent and security. No—no—I am very glad I had the bonds where + I could get at them quick. There now—do you run home as fast as you + can and tell your friend. He is more unhappy than anybody.” + </p> + <p> + Jack had his breath now and he had also made up his mind. Every drop of + blood in his body was in revolt. Take money from a Jew tailor whom he had + not seen half a dozen times; with whom he had no business relations or + dealings, or even social acquaintance? + </p> + <p> + He laid the bonds back on the desk. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot take them, Mr. Cohen. I thank you most sincerely, but—no—you + must not give them to me. I—” + </p> + <p> + Isaac wheeled suddenly and drew himself up. His little mouse eyes were + snapping, and his face fiery red. + </p> + <p> + “You will not take them! Why?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know—I can't!” + </p> + <p> + “I know!” he cried angrily, but with a certain dignity. “It is because I + am a Jew. Not because I am a tailor—you have too much sense for that—but + because I am a Jew!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Cohen!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—I know—I see inside of you. I read you just as if you + were a page in a book. Who taught you to think that? Not your Uncle Peter; + he loves me—I love him. Who taught you such nonsense?” His voice had + risen with every sentence. In his indignation he looked twice his size. + “Is not my money as good as that man Breen's—who insults you when + you go to him?—and who laughed at you? Have I laughed at you? Does + Mr. Grayson laugh?” + </p> + <p> + Jack tried to interrupt, but the tailor's words poured on. + </p> + <p> + “And now let me tell you one thing more, Mr. John Breen. I do not give you + the bonds. I give them to Mr. Grayson. Never once has he insulted me as + you do now. All these years—fifteen years this winter—he has + been my friend. And now when the boy whom he loves wants some money for a + friend, and Mr. Grayson has none to give him, and I, who am Mr. Grayson's + friend, come to help that boy out of his trouble, you—you—remember, + you who have nothing to do with it—you turn up your nose and stop it + all. Are you not ashamed of yourself?” + </p> + <p> + Jack's eyes blazed. He was not accustomed to be spoken to in that way by + anybody; certainly not by a tailor. + </p> + <p> + “Then give them to Uncle Peter,” Jack flung back. “See what he will say.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I will not give them to your Uncle Peter. It will spoil everything + with me if he knows about it. He always does things for me behind my back. + He never lets me know. Now I shall do something for him behind his back + and not let him know.” + </p> + <p> + “But—” + </p> + <p> + “There are no buts! Listen to me, young man. I have no son; I have no + grandchild; I live here alone—you see how small it is? Do you know + why?—because I am happiest here. I know what it is to suffer, and I + know what it is for other people to suffer. I have seen more misery in + London in a year than you will see in your whole life. Those ten bonds + there are of no more use to me than an extra coat of paint on that door. I + have many more like them shut up in a box. Almost every day people come to + me for money—sometimes they get it—oftener they do not. I have + no money for beggars, or for idlers, or for liars. I have worked all my + life, and shall to the end—and so must they. Now and then something + happens like this. Now do you understand?” + </p> + <p> + Again Jack tried to speak. His anger was gone; the pathos in the Jew's + voice had robbed him of all antagonism, but Cohen would allow no + interruptions. + </p> + <p> + “And now one thing more before I let you speak, And then I am through. In + all the years I have known Mr. Grayson, this is the first time I have ever + been able to help him with the only thing I have that can help him—my + money. If it was five times what you want, he should have it. Do you hear? + Five times!” + </p> + <p> + Isaac threw himself into his chair and sat with his chin in his hand. The + last few words had come in a dry, choking whisper—as if they had + been pumped from the depths of his heart. + </p> + <p> + Jack instinctively put out his hand and touched the Jew's knee. + </p> + <p> + “Will you please forgive me, Mr. Cohen—and will you please listen to + me. I won't tell you a lie. I did feel that way at first—I do not + now. I will take the bonds, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart + for them. You will never know how much good they will do; I have hardly + slept since I knew I had to get this money. I am, perhaps, too tired to + think straight, but you must do something for me—you must make it + right with my own conscience. I want to sign something—give you + something as security. I have only one thing in the world and that is some + ore property my father left me in Maryland. At present it is worthless and + may always be, but still it is all I have. Let me give you this. If it + turns out to be of value you can take out your loan with interest and give + me the rest; if it does not, I will pay it back as I can; it may be ten + years or it may be less, but I will pay it if I live.” + </p> + <p> + Isaac raised his head. “Well, that is fair.” His voice was again under + control. “Not for me—but for you. Yes, that is quite right for you + to feel that way. Next week you can bring in the papers.” He picked up the + bonds. “Now put these in your inside pocket and look out for them as you + cross the ferry. Good-by.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX + </h2> + <p> + Jack strode out into the night, his mind in a whirl. No sense of elation + over the money had possession of him. All his thoughts were on Isaac. What + manner of man was this Jew? he kept asking himself in a sort of stunned + surprise, who could handle his shears like a journeyman, talk like a + savant, spend money like a prince, and still keep the heart of a child? + Whoever heard of such an act of kindness; and so spontaneous and direct; + reading his heart, sympathizing with him in his troubles—as his + friend would have done—as his own father might have done. + </p> + <p> + And with the thought of Cohen's supreme instantaneous response there + followed with a rush of shame and self-humiliation that of his own + narrow-mindedness, his mean prejudices, his hatred of the race, his + questionings of Peter's intimacy, and his frequent comments on their + acquaintance—the one thing he could never understand in his beloved + mentor. Again Isaac's words rang in his ears. “Is it because I am a Jew? + Who taught you such nonsense? Not your Uncle Peter—he loves me. I + love him.” And with them arose the vision of the man stretched to his full + height, the light of the lamp glinting on his moist forehead, his + bead-like eyes flashing in the rush of his anger. + </p> + <p> + As to the sacrifice both he and Ruth had just made, and it was now final, + this no longer troubled him. He had already weighed for her every side of + the question, taking especial pains to discuss each phase of the subject, + even going so far as to disagree with MacFarlane's opinion as to the + worthlessness of the ore lands. But the dear child had never wavered. + </p> + <p> + “No!—I don't care,” she had answered with a toss of her head. “Let + the land go if there is no other way. We can get on without it, my + darling, and these poor people cannot.” She had not, of course, if the + truth must be told, weighed any of the consequences of what their double + sacrifice might entail, nor had she realized the long years of work which + might ensue, or the self-denial and constant anxiety attending its + repayment. Practical questions on so large a scale had been outside the + range of her experience. Hers was the spirit of Joan of old, who reckoned + nothing of value but her ideal. + </p> + <p> + Nor can we blame her. When your cheeks are twin roses; your hair black as + a crow's wing and fine as silk; and your teeth—not one missing—so + many seed pearls peeping from pomegranate lips; when your blood goes + skipping and bubbling through your veins; when at night you sleep like a + baby, and at morn you spring from your bed in the joy of another day; when + there are two strong brown hands and two strong arms, and a great, loving, + honest heart every bit your own; and when, too, there are crisp autumn + afternoons to come, with gold and brown for a carpet, and long winter + evenings, the fire-light dancing on the overhead rafters; and 'way—'way—beyond + this—somewhere in the far future there rises a slender spire holding + a chime of bells, and beneath it a deep-toned organ—when this, I + say, is, or will be, your own—the gold of the Indies is but so much + tinkling brass, and Cleopatra's diadem a mere bauble with which to quiet a + child. + </p> + <p> + It was not until he was nearing Corklesville that the sense of the money + really came to him. He knew what it would mean to Ruth and what her eyes + would hold of gladness and relief. Suddenly there sprang to his lips an + unbidden laugh, a spontaneous overflow from the joy of his heart; the + first he had uttered for days. Ruth should know first. He would take her + in his arms and tell her to hunt in all his pockets, and then he would + kiss her and place the package in her hands. And then the two would go to + Corinne. It would be late, and she would be in bed, perhaps, but that made + no difference. Ruth would steal noiselessly upstairs; past where Garry + lay, the flowers heaped upon his coffin, and Corinne would learn the glad + tidings before to-morrow's sun. At last the ghost which had haunted them + all these days was banished; her child would be safe, and Corinne would no + longer have to hide her head. + </p> + <p> + Once more the precious package became the dominant thought. Ten bonds! + More than enough! What would McGowan say now? What would his Uncle Arthur + say? He slipped his hand under his coat fondling the wrapper, caressing it + as a lover does a long-delayed letter, as a prisoner does a key which is + to turn darkness into light, as a hunted man a weapon which may save his + life. + </p> + <p> + It did not take Jack many minutes we may be sure to hurry from the station + to Ruth's home. There it all happened just as he had planned and schemed + it should—even to the kiss and the hunting for the package of bonds, + and Ruth's cry of joy, and the walk through the starlight night to + Corinne's, and the finding her upstairs; except that the poor woman was + not yet in bed. + </p> + <p> + “Who gave it to you, Jack?” Corinne asked in a tired voice. + </p> + <p> + “A friend of Uncle Peter's.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean Mr. Grayson?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + There was no outburst, no cry of gratitude, no flood of long-pent-up + tears. The storm had so crushed and bruised this plant that many days must + elapse before it would again lift its leaves from the mud. + </p> + <p> + “It was very good of Mr. Grayson, Jack,” was all she said in answer, and + then relapsed into the apathy which had been hers since the hour when the + details of her husband's dishonesty had dropped from his lips. + </p> + <p> + Poor girl! she had no delusions to sustain her. She knew right from wrong. + Emotions never misled her. In her earlier years she and her mother had + been accustomed to look things squarely in the face, and to work out their + own careers; a game of chance, it is true, until her mother's marriage + with the elder Breen; but they had both been honest careers, and they had + owed no man a penny. Garry had fought the battle for her within the last + few years, and in return she had loved him as much as she was able to love + anybody but she had loved him as a man of honor, not as a thief. Now he + had lied to her, had refused to listen to her pleadings, and the end had + come. What was there left, and to whom should she now turn—she + without a penny to her name—except to her stepfather, who had + insulted and despised her. She had even been compelled to seek help from + Ruth and Jack; and now at last to accept it from Mr. Grayson—he + almost a stranger. These were the thoughts which, like strange nightmares, + swept across her tired brain, taking grewsome shapes, each one more + horrible than its predecessor. + </p> + <p> + At the funeral, next day, she presented the same impassive front. Breen + and her mother rode with her in the carriage to the church, and Jack and + Ruth helped her alight, but she might have been made of stone so far as + she evinced either sorrow or interest in what was taking place about her. + And yet nothing had been omitted by friend or foe expressive of the grief + and heart-felt sorrow the occasion demanded. Holker Morris sent a wreath + of roses with a special letter to her, expressing his confidence in and + respect for the man he had brought up from a boy. A committee was present + from the Society of Architects to which Garry belonged; half a dozen of + his old friends from the Magnolia were present, Biffy among them; the + village Council and the Board of Church Trustees came in a body, and even + McGowan felt it incumbent upon him to stand up during the service and + assume the air of one who had been especially bereft. Nor were the notices + in the country and city papers wanting in respect. “One of our most + distinguished citizens—a man who has reached the topmost round of + the ladder,” etc., etc., one editorial began. + </p> + <p> + It was only when the funeral was over, and she was once more at home, that + she expressed the slightest concern. Then she laid her hand in Peter's and + threw back her heavy crepe veil: “You have saved me from disgrace, Mr. + Grayson,” she said, in a low, monotonous voice, “and my little boy as + well. I try to think that Garry must have been out of his mind when he + took the money. He would not listen to me, and he would not tell me the + truth. Jack is going to pay it back to-morrow, and nobody will ever know + that my husband did wrong; but I couldn't let you go away without thanking + you for having saved us. My stepfather wouldn't help—nobody would + help but you. I don't know why you did it. It seems so strange. I had + given up all hope when Jack came back last night.” + </p> + <p> + Peter sat perfectly still, his hand on her wrist, where he had placed it + to show by a kindly touch his sympathy for her. Not knowing what her lips + would tell, he had begun to pat the back of her black glove when she + started to speak, as one would quiet a child who pours out its troubles, + but he stopped in amazement as she proceeded. He had not loaned her a + dollar, nor had Jack, as he knew, succeeded in getting a penny, unless by + a miracle he had met some one on the train who had come to his rescue. + </p> + <p> + What did the poor woman mean? Disgrace! Trouble! Garry taking money, and + Jack paying it back on Monday! The horror of her husband's sudden death + had undoubtedly turned her mind, distorting some simple business + transaction into a crime, or she would not be thanking him for something + that he had never done. This talk of Jack's could only have been a ruse to + keep up her spirits and give her false strength until she had passed + through the agonizing ordeal of the funeral—he accepting all her + delusions as true—as one does when an insane person is to be coaxed + back into a cell. These thoughts went whirling through his mind, as Peter + watched her face closely, wondering what would be his course. He had not + met her often, yet he could see that she was terribly changed. He noticed, + too, that all through the interview she had not shed a tear. Yes—there + was no question that her mind was unbalanced. The best plan would be to + bring the interview to an end as quickly as possible, so she should not + dwell too long on her sorrow. + </p> + <p> + “If I have done anything to help you, my dear lady,” he said with gentle + courtesy, rising from his chair and taking her hand again, “or can do + anything for you in the future, I shall be most happy, and you must + certainly let me know. And now, may I not ask you to go upstairs and lie + down. You are greatly fatigued—I assure you I feel for you most + deeply.” + </p> + <p> + But his mind was still disturbed. Ruth and Jack wondered at his quiet as + he sat beside them on the way back to MacFarlane's—gazing out of the + carriage window, his clean-shaven, placid face at rest, his straight thin + lips close shut. He hardly spoke until they reached the house, and then it + was when he helped Ruth alight. Once inside, however, he beckoned Jack, + and without a word led him alone into MacFarlane's study—now almost + dismantled for the move to Morfordsburg—and closed the door. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Minott has just told me the most extraordinary thing, Jack—an + unbelievable story. Is she quite sane?” + </p> + <p> + Jack scanned Peter's face and read the truth. Corinne had evidently told + him everything. This was the severest blow of all. + </p> + <p> + “She supposed you knew, sir;” answered Jack quietly, further concealment + now being useless. + </p> + <p> + “Knew what?” Peter was staring at him with wide-open eyes. + </p> + <p> + “What she told you, sir,” faltered Jack. + </p> + <p> + The old man threw up his hands in horror. + </p> + <p> + “What! You really mean to tell me, Jack, that Minott has been stealing?” + </p> + <p> + Jack bent his head and his eyes sought the floor. He could hardly have + been more ashamed had he himself been the culprit. + </p> + <p> + “God bless my soul! From whom?” + </p> + <p> + “The church funds—he was trustee. The meeting is to-morrow, and it + would all have come out.” + </p> + <p> + A great light broke over Peter—as when a window is opened in a + darkened room in which one has bees stumbling. + </p> + <p> + “And you have walked the streets trying to beggar yourself, not to help + MacFarlane but to keep Minott out of jail!” Amazement had taken the place + of horror. + </p> + <p> + “He was my friend, sir—and there are Corinne and the little boy. It + is all over now. I have the money—that is, I have got something to + raise it on.” + </p> + <p> + “Who gave it to you?” He was still groping, blinded by the revelations, + his gray eyes staring at Jack, his voice trembling, beads of perspiration + moistening his forehead. + </p> + <p> + “Isaac Cohen. He has given me ten Government bonds. They are in that + drawer behind you. He overheard what I said to you yesterday about wanting + some money, and was waiting for me when I went downstairs. He gave them to + me because he loved you, he said. I am to give him my ore property as + security, although I told him it was of no value.” + </p> + <p> + Peter made a step forward, stretching out a hand as if to steady himself. + His face grew white then suddenly flushed. His breath seemed to have left + him. + </p> + <p> + “And Cohen did this!” he gasped—“and you for Minott! Why—why—” + </p> + <p> + Jack caught him in his arms, thinking he was about to fall. + </p> + <p> + “No! No! I'm all right,” he cried, patting Jack's shoulder. “It's you!—you—YOU, + my splendid boy! Oh!—how I love you!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXI + </h2> + <p> + The following morning Jack walked into Arthur Breen's private office while + his uncle was reading his mail, and laid the package containing the ten + bonds on his desk. So far as their borrowing capacity was concerned, he + could have walked up the marble steps of any broker's office or bank on + either side of the street—that is, wherever he was known, and he was + still remembered by many of them—thrust the package through the + cashier's window, and walked down again with a certified check for their + face value in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + But the boy had other ends in view. Being human, and still smarting under + his uncle's ridicule and contempt, he wanted to clear his own name and + character; being loyal to his friend's memory and feeling that Garry's + reputation must be at least patched up—and here in Breen's place and + before the man who had so bitterly denounced it; and being above all + tender-hearted and gallant where a woman, and a sorrowing one, was + concerned, he must give Corinne and the child a fair and square start in + the house of Breen, with no overdue accounts to vex her except such petty + ones as a small life insurance and a few uncollected commissions could + liquidate. + </p> + <p> + These much-to-be-desired results could only be attained when the senior + member of the firm was made acquainted with the fact that, after all, + Garry's debts could be paid and his reputation saved. The money must, + therefore, be borrowed of Arthur Breen & Co. His uncle would know then + beyond doubt; his axiom being that the only thing that talked loud enough + ever to make him listen was “money.” + </p> + <p> + It was therefore with a sense of supreme satisfaction, interwoven with + certain suppressed exuberance born of freedom and self-reliance, that + Jack, in answer to Breen's “What's this?” when his eyes rested on the + bundle of bonds, replied in an off-hand but entirely respectful manner: + </p> + <p> + “Ten United States Government bonds, sir; and will you please give me a + check drawn to my order for this amount?” and he handed the astounded + broker the slip of paper McGowan had given him, on which was scrawled the + total of the overdue vouchers. + </p> + <p> + Breen slipped off the rubber band, spread out the securities as a lady + opens a fan, noted the title, date, and issue, and having assured himself + of their genuineness, asked in a confused, almost apologetic way, as he + touched a bell to summon the cashier: + </p> + <p> + “Where did you get these? Did MacFarlane give them to you?” + </p> + <p> + “No—a friend,” answered Jack casually, and without betraying a trace + of either excitement or impatience. + </p> + <p> + “On what?” snapped Breen, something of his old dictatorial manner + asserting itself. + </p> + <p> + “On my word,” replied Jack, with a note of triumph, which he could not + wholly conceal. + </p> + <p> + The door opened and the cashier entered. Breen handed him the bonds, gave + instructions about the drawing of the check, and turned to Jack again. He + was still suffering from amazement, the boy's imperturbable manner being + responsible for most of it. + </p> + <p> + “And does this pay Minott's debts?” he asked in a more conciliatory tone. + </p> + <p> + “Every dollar,” replied Jack. + </p> + <p> + Breen looked up. Where had the boy got this poise and confidence, he asked + himself, as a flush of pride swept through him; after all, Jack was of his + own blood, his brother's son. + </p> + <p> + “And I suppose now that it's you who will be doing the walking instead of + Minott's creditors?” Breen inquired with a frown that softened into a + smile as he gazed the longer into Jack's calm eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, for a time,” rejoined Jack in the same even, unhurried voice. + </p> + <p> + The clerk brought in the slip of paper, passed it to his employer, who + examined it closely, and who then affixed his signature. + </p> + <p> + “If you get any more of that kind of stuff and want help in the new work, + let me know.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, sir,” said Jack, folding up the precious scrap and slipping it + into his pocket. + </p> + <p> + Breen waited until Jack had closed the door, pulled from a pigeon-hole a + bundle of papers labelled Maryland Mining Company, touched another button + summoning his stenographer, and said in a low voice to himself: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I have it! Something is going on in that ore property. I'll write + and find out.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXII + </h2> + <p> + The Board of Church Trustees met, as customary, on Monday night, but there + was no business transacted except the passing of a resolution expressing + its deep regret over the loss of “our distinguished fellow-townsman, whose + genius has added so much to the beautifying of our village, and whose + uprightness of character will always be,” etc., etc. + </p> + <p> + Neither Jack nor McGowan, nor any one representing their interests, was + present. A hurried glance over Garry's check and bank-books showed that + the money to pay McGowan's vouchers—the exact sum—had been + drawn from the fund and deposited to Garry's personal credit in his own + bank in New York. Former payments to McGowan had been made in this way. + There was therefore no proof that this sum had been diverted into + illegitimate channels. + </p> + <p> + McGowan was paid that same Monday afternoon, Jack bringing the papers to + the contractor's office, where they were signed in the presence of Murphy + and his clerk. + </p> + <p> + And so the matter was closed, each and every one concerned being rejoiced + over the outcome. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Minott (it was 'Mr.' now) had a big stack of money over at his + stepfather's bank,” was Murphy's statement to a group around a table in + one of the bar-rooms of the village. “He was in a big deal, so Mac thinks, + and didn't want to haul any of it out. So when he died Mr. Breen never + squawked—just went over and told the old man that Mac wanted the + money and to fork out; and he did, like a good one. I seen the check, I + tell ye. Oh! they're all in together. Mr. Breen's kin to them New York + folks, and so is Mrs. Minott. He's her father, I hear. I think Mac shot + off his mouth too quick, and I told him so, but he was so het up he + couldn't keep still. Why, them fellers has got more money than they can + throw away. Mac sees his mistake now. Heard him tell Mr. Breen that Mr. + Minott was the whitest man he ever knowed; and you bet yer life he's + right.” + </p> + <p> + Nor was Murphy's eulogium the only one heard in the village. Within a week + after the funeral a committee was appointed to gather funds for the + placing of a stained-glass window in the new church in memory of the young + architect who had designed and erected it; with the result that Holker + Morris headed the subscription list, an example which was followed by many + of the townspeople, including McGowan and Murphy and several others of + their class, as well as various members of the Village Council, together + with many of Garry's friends in New York, all of which was duly set forth + in the county and New York papers; a fact which so impressed the head of + the great banking firm of Arthur Breen & Co. that he immediately sent + his personal check for a considerable amount, desiring, as he stated at a + club dinner that same night, to pay some slight tribute to that brilliant + young fellow, Minott, who, you know, married Mrs. Breen's daughter—a + lovely girl, brought up in my own house, and who has now come home again + to live with us. + </p> + <p> + Peter listened attentively while Jack imparted these details, a peculiar + smile playing about the corners of his eyes and mouth, his only comment at + the strangeness of such posthumous honors to such a man, but he became + positively hilarious when Jack reached that part in the narrative in which + the head of the house of Breen figured as chief contributor. + </p> + <p> + “And you mean to tell me, Jack,” he roared, “that Breen has pushed himself + into poor Minott's stained-glass window, with the saints and the gold + crowns, and—oh, Jack, you can't be serious!” + </p> + <p> + “That's what the Rector tells me, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Jack—forgive me, my boy, but I have never in all my life heard + anything so delicious. Don't you think if Holker spoke to the artist that + Mr. Iscariot, or perhaps the estimable Mr. Ananias, or Mr. Pecksniff, or + Uriah Heep might also be tucked away in the background?” And with this the + old fellow, in spite of his sympathy for Jack and the solemnity of the + occasion, threw back his head and laughed so long and so heartily that + Mrs. McGuffey made excuse to enter the room to find out what it was all + about. + </p> + <p> + With the subletting of Garry's house and the shipping of his furniture—that + which was not sold—to her step-father's house, Jack's efforts on + behalf of his dead friend and his family came to a close. Ruth helped + Corinne pack her personal belongings, and Jack found a tenant who moved in + the following week. Willing hands are oftenest called upon, and so it + happened that the two lovers bore all the brunt of the domestic upheaval. + </p> + <p> + Their own packing had long since been completed; not a difficult matter in + a furnished house; easy always to Ruth and her father, whose nomadic life + was marked by constant changes. Indeed, the various boxes, cases, crates, + and barrels containing much of the linen, china, and glass, to say nothing + of the portieres, rugs and small tables, and the whole of Ruth's bedroom + furniture, had already been loaded aboard a box car and sent on its way to + Morfordsburg, there to await the arrival of the joyous young girl, whose + clear brain and competent hands would bring order out of chaos, no matter + how desolate the interior and the environment. + </p> + <p> + For these dainty white hands with their pink nails and soft palms, so + wonderfully graceful over teapot or fan, could wield a broom or even a + dust-pan did necessity require. Ruth in a ball gown, all frills and + ruffles and lace, was a sight to charm the eye of any man, but Ruth in + calico and white apron, her beautiful hair piled on top of her still more + beautiful head; her skirts pinned up and her dear little feet pattering + about, was a sight not only for men but for gods as well. Jack loved her + in this costume, and so would you had you known her. I myself, old and + wrinkled as I am, have never forgotten how I rapped at the wrong door one + morning—the kitchen door—and found her in that same costume, + with her arms bare to the elbows and covered with flour, where she had + been making a “sally lunn” for daddy. Nor can I forget her ringing laugh + as she saw the look of astonishment on my face, or my delight when she + ordered me inside and made me open the oven door so that she could slide + in the finished product without burning her fingers. + </p> + <p> + The packing up of their own household impedimenta complete, there came a + few days of leisure—the first breathing spell that either MacFarlane + or Jack, or Ruth, too, for that matter, had had for weeks. MacFarlane, in + view of the coming winter—a long and arduous one, took advantage of + the interim and went south, to his club, for a few days' shooting—a + rare luxury for him of late years. Jack made up his mind to devote every + one of his spare hours to getting better acquainted with Ruth, and that + young woman, not wishing to be considered either neglectful or selfish, + determined to sacrifice every hour of the day and as much of the night as + was proper and possible to getting better acquainted with Jack; and the + two had a royal time in the doing. + </p> + <p> + Jack, too, had another feeling about it all. It seemed to him that he had + a debt of gratitude—the rasping word had long since lost its edge—to + discharge; and that he owed her every leisure hour he could steal from his + work. He had spent days and nights in the service of his friends, and had, + besides, laid the burden of their anxieties upon her. He would pay her in + return twice as many days of gladness to make up for the pain she had so + cheerfully borne. What could he do to thank her?—how discharge the + obligation? Every hour he would tell her, and in different ways—by + his tenderness, by his obedience to her slightest wish, anticipating her + every want—how much he appreciated her unselfishness, and how much + better, if that were possible, he loved her for her sacrifice. Nor was + there, when the day came, any limit to his devotion or to her enjoyment. + There were rides over the hills in the soft September mornings—Indian + summer in its most dreamy and summery state; there were theatre parties of + two and no more; when they sat in the third row in the balcony, where it + was cheaper, and where, too, they wouldn't have to speak to anybody else. + There were teas in Washington Square, where nobody but themselves and + their hostess were present, as well as other unexpected outings, in which + all the rest of the world was forgotten. + </p> + <p> + The house, too, was all their own. Nobody upstairs; nobody downstairs but + the servants; even the emptiness of daddy's room, so grewsome in the old + days, brought a certain feeling of delight. “Just you and me,” as they + said a dozen times a day to each other. And then the long talks on that + blessed old sofa with its cushions—(what a wonderful old sofa it + was, and how much it had heard); talks about when she was a girl—as + if she had ever passed the age; and when he was a boy; and of what they + both thought and did in that blissful state of innocence and inexperience. + Talks about the bungalow they would build some day—that bungalow + which Garry had toppled over—and how it would be furnished; and + whether they could not persuade the landlord to sell them the dear sofa + and move it out there bodily; talks about their life during the coming + winter, and whether she should visit Aunt Felicia's—and if so, + whether Jack would come too; and if she didn't, wouldn't it be just as + well for Jack to have some place in Morfordsburg where he could find a bed + in case he got storm-bound and couldn't get back to the cabin that same + night. All kinds and conditions and sorts of talks that only two lovers + enjoy, and for which only two lovers can find the material. + </p> + <p> + Sometimes she thought he might be too lonely and neglected at the + log-cabin. Then she would make believe she was going to ask daddy to let + them be married right away, insisting that two rooms were enough for them, + and that she herself would do the washing and ironing and the cooking, at + which Jack would laugh over the joy of it all, conjuring up in his mind + the pattern of apron she would wear and how pretty her bare arms would be + bending over the tub, knowing all the time that he would no more have + allowed her to do any one of these things than he would have permitted her + to chop the winter's wood. + </p> + <p> + Most of these day dreams, plots, and imaginings were duly reported by + letter to Miss Felicia to see what she thought of them all. For the dear + lady's opposition had long since broken down. In these letters Ruth poured + out her heart as she did to no one except Jack; each missive interspersed + with asides as to how dear Jack was, and how considerate, and how it would + not be a very long time before she would soon get the other half of the + dear lady's laces, now that daddy and Jack (the boy had been given an + interest in the business) were going to make lots of money on the new work—to + all of which Miss Felicia replied that love in a garret was what might be + expected of fools, but that love in a log-cabin could only be practised by + lunatics. + </p> + <p> + It was toward the close of this pre-honey-moon—it lasted only ten + days, but it was full moon every hour and no clouds—when, early one + morning—before nine o'clock, really—a night message was handed + to Jack. It had been sent to the brick office, but the telegraph boy, + finding that building closed and abandoned, had delivered it to Mrs. + Hicks, who, discovering it to be sealed, forwarded it at once, and by the + same hand, to the MacFarlane house, known now to everybody as the + temporary headquarters, especially in the day time, of the young + superintendent who was going to marry the daughter—“and there ain't + a nicer, nor a better, nor a prettier.” + </p> + <p> + On this morning, then, the two had planned a day in the woods back of the + hills; Ruth's mare was to be hooked up to a hired buggy, and such comforts + as a bucket of ice, lettuce sandwiches thin as wafers, a cold chicken, a + spirit lamp, teapot, and cups and saucers, not to mention a big shawl for + my sweetheart to sit on, and another smaller one for her lovely shoulders + when the cool of the evening came on, were to be stowed away under the + seat. + </p> + <p> + “That telegram is from Aunt Felicia, I know,” said Ruth. “She has set her + heart on my coming up to Geneseo, but I cannot go, Jack. I don't want to + be a minute away from you.” + </p> + <p> + Jack had now broken the seal and was scanning the contents. Instantly his + face grew grave. + </p> + <p> + “No—it's not from Aunt Felicia,” he said in a thoughtful tone, his + eyes studying the despatch. “I don't know whom it's from; it is signed T. + Ballantree; I never heard of him before. He wants me to meet him at the + Astor House to-day at eleven o'clock. Some business of your father's, I + expect—see, it's dated Morfordsburg. Too bad, isn't it, blessed—but + I must go. Here, boy”—this to the messenger, who was moving out of + the door—“stop at the livery stable as you go by and tell them I + won't want the horse and wagon, that I'm going to New York. All in a + life-time, my blessed—but I'm dreadfully sorry.” + </p> + <p> + “And you MUST go? Isn't it mean, Jack—and it's such a lovely day.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—but it can't be helped. What are you going to do with the + sandwiches and chicken and things? And you had so much trouble making + them. And you will be lonely, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I shall keep them till you come back, and we'll have a lovely feast + at home,” she said with a light laugh in her effort to hide her feelings. + “Oh, no, I shan't be lonely. You won't be gone long, Jack, will you, + dear?” + </p> + <p> + “I hope not.” His mind must no longer rest on the outing. There was work + to do for Ruth as well as himself. His play time had come to a sudden end; + the bell had rung and recess was over. He looked at his watch; there was + just time to catch the train. + </p> + <p> + She followed him to the door and kissed her hand as he swung down the path + and through the gate, and watched him until he had disappeared behind the + long wall of the factory; then she went in, put away the sandwiches and + chicken, and the teapot and the cups and saucers, and emptied the ice. + </p> + <p> + Yes, the day was spoiled, she said to herself—part of it anyway; but + the night would come, and with it Jack would burst in with news of all he + had seen and done, and they would each have an end of the table; their + last dinner in the old home, where everything on which her eyes rested + revived some memory of their happiness. But then there would be other + outings at Morfordsburg, and so what mattered one day when there were so + many left? And with this thought her tears dried up and she began to sing + again as she busied herself about the house—bursting into a refrain + from one of the operas she loved, or crooning some of the old-time + melodies which her black mammy had taught her when a child. + </p> + <p> + But now for Jack and what the day held for him of wonders and surprises. + </p> + <p> + Some pessimistic wiseacre has said that all the dire and dreadful things + in life drop out of a clear sky; that it is the unexpected which is to be + feared, and that the unknown bridges are the ones in which dangers lurk + and where calamity is to be feared. + </p> + <p> + The optimistic Scribe bites his derisive thumb at such ominous prophecies. + Once in a while some rain does fall, and now and then a roar of thunder, + or sharp slash of sleet will split the air during our journey through + life, but the blue is always above, and the clouds but drifting ships that + pass and are gone. In and through them all the warm, cheery sun fights on + for joyous light and happy endings, and almost always wins. + </p> + <p> + This time the unexpected took shape in the person of T. Ballantree, from + Morfordsburg—a plain, direct, straight-to-the-point kind of a man, + whom Jack found in the corridor of the Astor House with his eyes on the + clock. + </p> + <p> + “You are very prompt, Mr. Breen,” he said in clear-cut tones, “so am I. + What I wanted to see you about is just this: You own some ore property + three miles east of the Maryland Mining Company's lay-out. Am I right?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you are right,” answered Jack with a comprehensive glance which + began at the speaker's black derby hat, traversed his suit of store + clothes, and ended in a pair of boots which still showed some traces of + yellow clay, as if their wearer had been prospecting the day before. + </p> + <p> + “Are there any encumbrances on the property—any mortgages or liens + not yet recorded? I don't mean taxes; I find they have been paid,” + continued Ballantree. + </p> + <p> + Jack shifted his seat so he could get a better view of the speaker's face, + and said in answer: + </p> + <p> + “Why do you ask?” + </p> + <p> + “Because,” said the man with entire frankness, “we understand that the + Maryland Mining Company have an option on it. If that is so, I'll stop + where I am. We don't care to buck up against Breen & Co.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Jack, now convinced of the man's sincerity; “no—it's + free and clear except for a loan of ten thousand dollars held by a friend, + which can be paid off at any time.” + </p> + <p> + Ballantree ducked his head in token of his satisfaction over the statement + and asked another question—this time with his eyes straight on Jack. + </p> + <p> + “Is it for sale—now—for money?” + </p> + <p> + It was Jack's turn to focus his gaze. This was the first time any one had + asked that question in the memory of the oldest inhabitant. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that depends on what it is wanted for, Mr. Ballantree,” laughed + Jack. He had already begun to like the man. “And perhaps, too, on who + wants it. Is it for speculation?” + </p> + <p> + Ballantree laughed in return. “No—not a square foot of it. I am the + general manager of the Guthrie Steel Company with head-quarters here in + New York. We have been looking for mineral up in that section of the + State, and struck yours. I might as well tell you that I made the borings + myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you an expert?” asked Jack. The way people searched his title, + examined his tax receipts and rammed hypodermics into his property without + permission was, to say the least, amusing. + </p> + <p> + “Been at it thirty years,” replied Ballantree in a tone that settled all + doubt on the subject. + </p> + <p> + “It is a low-grade ore, you know,” explained Jack, feeling bound to + express his own doubts of its value. + </p> + <p> + “No, it's a high-grade ore,” returned Ballantree with some positiveness; + “that is, it was when we got down into it. But I'm not here to talk about + percentage—that may come in later. I came to save Mr. Guthrie's + time. I was to bring you down to see him if you were the man and + everything was clean, and if you'll go—and I wouldn't advise you to + stay away—I'll meet you at his office at twelve o'clock sharp; + there's his card. It isn't more than four blocks from here.” + </p> + <p> + Jack took the card, looked on both sides of it, tucked it in his inside + pocket, and said he would come, with pleasure. Ballantree nodded + contentedly, pulled a cigar from his upper breast pocket, bit off one end, + slid a match along his trousers until it burst into flame, held it to the + unbitten end until it was a-light, blew out the blaze, adjusted his derby + and with another nod to Jack—and the magic words—“Twelve + sharp”—passed out into Broadway. + </p> + <p> + Ten minutes later—perhaps five, for Jack arrived on the run—Jack + bounded into Peter's bank, and slipping ahead of the line of depositors, + thrust his overheated face into the opening. There he gasped out a bit of + information that came near cracking the ostrich egg in two, so wide was + the smile that overspread Peter's face. + </p> + <p> + “What—really! You don't say so! Telegraphed you? Who?” + </p> + <p> + “A Mr. Ballantree,” panted Jack. “I have just left him at the Astor + House.” + </p> + <p> + “I never heard of him. Look out, my boy—don't sign anything until + you—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he is only the general manager. It's a Mr. Guthrie—Robert A. + Guthrie—who wants it. He sent Mr. Ballantree.” + </p> + <p> + “Robert Guthrie! The banker! That's our director; that's the man I told + you of. I gave him your address. Go and see him by all means and tell him + everything. Talk just as you would to me. One of the best men in the + Street. Not a crooked hair on his head, Jack. Well—well—this + does look like business.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, sir, one minute, if you please—” interpolated Peter to + an insistent depositor whom Jack in his impatience had crowded out. “Now + your book—thank you—And Jack”—this over the hat of the + depositor, his face a marvel of delight—“come to my rooms at four—wait + for me—I'll be there.” + </p> + <p> + Out again and around the block; anything to kill time until the precious + hour should arrive. Lord!—how the minutes dragged. The hands of the + old clock of Trinity spire must be stuck together. Any other day it would + take him at least half an hour to walk up Wall Street, down Broadway to + the Battery and back again—now ten minutes was enough. Would the + minute hand never climb up the face to the hour hand and the two get + together at twelve, and so end his impatience. He wished now he had + telegraphed to Ruth not to expect him until the late afternoon train. He + thought he would do it now. Then he changed his mind. No; it would be + better to await the result of his interview. Yet still the clock dragged + on, and still he waited for the magic hour. Ten minutes to twelve—five—then + twelve precisely—but by this time he was closeted inside Mr. + Guthrie's private office. + </p> + <p> + Peter also found the hours dragging. What could it all mean? he kept + asking himself as he handed back the books through his window, his eyes + wandering up to the old-fashioned clock. Robert Guthrie the banker—a + REAL banker—had sent for the boy—Guthrie, who never made a too + hurried move. Could it be possible that good fortune was coming to Jack?—that + he and Ruth—that—Ah! old fellow, you nearly made a mistake + with the amount of that check! No—there was no use in supposing. He + would just wait for Jack's story. + </p> + <p> + When he reached home he was still in the same overwrought, anxious state—hoping + against hope. When would the boy come? he asked himself a hundred times as + he fussed about his room, nipping off the dead leaves from his geraniums, + drawing the red curtains back; opening and shutting the books, only to + throw himself into his chair at last. Should he smoke until four?—should + he read? What a fool he was making of himself! It was astonishing that one + of his age should be so excited over a mere business proposition—really + not a proposition at all, when he came to think of it—just an + ordinary question asked. He must compose himself. It was quite absurd for + him to go on this way. But would the boy NEVER come? It was four o'clock + now—or would be in ten minutes, and—and— + </p> + <p> + Yes! + </p> + <p> + He sprang toward the door and caught the young fellow in his arms. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! such good news! Mr. Guthrie's bought the property!” roared Jack. + </p> + <p> + He had made one long spring from the sidewalk up three flights of steps to + the old-fashioned door, but he still had breath to gasp the glad tidings. + </p> + <p> + “Bought!—Who?—Not Guthrie!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—I am to sign the papers to-morrow. Oh!—Uncle Peter, I am + half crazy with delight!” + </p> + <p> + “Hurrah,” shouted Peter. “HURRAH, I say! This IS good news! Well!—Well!” + He was still bending over him, his eyes blinking in his joy, scurries of + irradiating smiles chasing each other over his face. Never had the old + gentleman been in such a state. + </p> + <p> + “And how much, Jack?” + </p> + <p> + “Guess.” + </p> + <p> + “Will there be enough to pay Isaac's ten thousand?” + </p> + <p> + “More!” Jack was nearly bursting, but he still held in. + </p> + <p> + “Twenty thousand?” This came timidly, fearing that it was too much, and + yet hoping that it might be true. + </p> + <p> + “More!” The strain on Jack was getting dangerous. + </p> + <p> + “Twenty-five thousand?” Peter's voice now showed that he was convinced + that this sum was too small. + </p> + <p> + “More! Go on, Uncle Peter! Go on!” + </p> + <p> + “Thirty-five thousand, Jack?” It was getting hot; certainly this was the + limit. Was there ever such luck? + </p> + <p> + “Yes!—and five thousand more! Forty thousand dollars and one-fifth + interest in the output! Just think what Ruth will say. I've just sent her + a telegram. Oh!—what a home-coming!” + </p> + <p> + And then, with Peter drawn up beside him, his face radiant and his eyes + sparkling with joy, he poured out the story of the morning. How he had + begun by telling Mr. Guthrie of his own and Mr. MacFarlane's opinion of + the property, as he did not want to sell anything he himself considered + worthless. How he had told him frankly what Peter had said of his—Mr. + Guthrie's—fairness and honesty; how he was at work for his + prospective father-in-law, the distinguished engineer of whom Mr. Guthrie + had no doubt heard—at which the gentleman nodded. How this property + had been given him by his father, and was all he had in the world except + what he could earn; how he already owed ten thousand dollars and had + pledged the property as part payment, and how, in view of these facts, he + would take any sum over ten thousand dollars that Mr. Guthrie would give + him, provided Mr. Guthrie thought it was worth that much. + </p> + <p> + “But I am buying, not selling, your land, young man,” the banker had said. + “I know it, sir, and I am willing to take your own figures,” Jack replied—at + which Mr. Guthrie had laughed in a kindly way, and had then called in Mr. + Ballantree and another man how the three had then talked in a corner, and + how he had heard Mr. Guthrie say, “No, that is not fair—add another + five thousand and increase the interest to one-fifth”; whereupon the two + men went out and came back later with a letter in duplicate, one of which + Mr. Guthrie had signed, and the other which he, Jack, signed—and + here was Mr. Guthrie's letter to prove it. With this Jack took out the + document and laid it before Peter's delighted eyes; adding that the deeds + and Isaac's release were to be signed in the morning, and that Mr. Guthrie + had sent a special message by him to the effect that he very much wished + Mr. Grayson would also be present when the final transfers would be signed + and the money paid. + </p> + <p> + Whereupon the Scribe again maintains—and he is rubbing his hands + with the joy of it all as he does it—that there was more sunshine + than clouds in this particular Unexpected, and that if all the boys in the + world were as frank and sincere as young Jack Breen, and all the grown-ups + as honest as old Robert Guthrie, the REAL banker, the jails would be empty + and the millennium knocking at our doors. + </p> + <p> + Peter had drunk in every word of the story, bowing his head, fanning out + his fingers, or interrupting with his customary “Well, well!” whenever + some particular detail seemed to tend toward the final success. + </p> + <p> + And then, the story over, there came the part that Peter never forgot; + that he has told me a dozen times, and always with the same trembling tear + under the eyelids, and the same quivering of his lower lip. + </p> + <p> + Jack had drawn his chair nearer the old gentleman, and had thrown one arm + over the shoulder of his dearest friend in the world. There was a moment's + silence as they sat there, and then Jack began. “There is something I want + you to do for me, Uncle Peter,” he said, drawing his arm closer till his + own fresh cheek almost touched the head of the older man. “Please, don't + refuse.” + </p> + <p> + “Refuse, my dear boy! I am too happy to-day to refuse anything. Come, out + with it.” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to give you half of this money. I love you better than any one + in this world except Ruth, and I want you to have it.” + </p> + <p> + Peter threw up his hands and sprang to his feet. + </p> + <p> + “What!—You want to—Why, Jack! Are you crazy! Me! My dear boy, + it's very lovely of you to wish to do it, but just think. Oh, you dear + Jack! No!—no, no!” He was beating the air now deprecatingly with his + outspread fingers as he strode around the room, laughing short laughs in + his effort to keep back the tears. + </p> + <p> + Jack followed him in his circuit, talking all the while, until he had + penned the old gentleman in a corner between the open desk and the window. + </p> + <p> + “But, Uncle Peter—think what you have done for me! Do you suppose + for one moment that I don't know that it was you and not I who sold the + property? Do you think Mr. Guthrie would have added that five thousand + dollars to the price if he hadn't wanted to help you as well as me?” + </p> + <p> + “Five thousand dollars, my dear Jack, is no more to Robert Guthrie than a + ferry ticket is to you or me. He gave you the full price because you + trusted to his honesty and told him the truth, and he saw your + inexperience.” + </p> + <p> + “No—it was YOU he was thinking of, I tell you,” protested Jack, with + eager emphasis. “He would never have sent Ballantree for me had you not + talked to him—and it has been so with everything since I knew you. + You have been father, friend, everybody to me. You gave me Ruth and my + work. Everything I am I owe to you. You must—you SHALL have half of + this money! Ruth and I can be married, and that is all we want, and what + is left I can put into our new work to help Mr. MacFarlane. Please, Uncle + Peter!—we will both be so much happier if we know you share it with + us.” Here his voice rose and a strain of determination rang through it. + “And, by George!—Uncle Peter, the more I think of it, the more I am + convinced that it is fair. It's yours—not mine. I WILL have it that + way—you are getting old, and you need it.” + </p> + <p> + Peter broke into a laugh. It was the only way he could keep down the + tears. + </p> + <p> + “What a dear boy you are, Jack,” he said, backing toward the sofa and + regaining his seat. “You've got a heart as big as a house, and I'm proud + of you, but no—not a penny of your money. Think a moment! Your + father didn't leave the property to me—not any part of it—he + left it to you, you spendthrift! When I get too old to work I am going up + to Felicia's and pick out an easy-chair and sit in a corner and dry up + gradually and be laid away in lavender. No, my lad, not a penny! Gift + money should go to cripples and hypochondriacs, not to spry old gentlemen. + I would not take it from my own father's estate when I was your age, and I + certainly won't take it now from you. I made Felicia take it all.” Jack + opened his eyes. He had often wondered why Peter had so little and she so + much. “Oh, yes, nearly forty years ago! But I have never regretted it + since! And you must see how just it was, for there wasn't enough for two, + and Felicia was a woman. No—be very careful of gift money, my boy, + and be very careful, also, of too much of anybody's money—even your + own. What makes me most glad in this whole affair is that Guthrie didn't + give you a million—that might have spoilt you. This is just enough. + You and Ruth can start square. You can help Henry—and you ought to, + he has been mighty good to you. And, best of all, you can keep at work. + Yes—that's the best part of it—that you can keep at work. Go + right on as you are; work every single day of your life, and earn your + bread as you have done ever since you left New York, and, one thing more, + and don't you ever forget it: Be sure you take your proper share of fun + and rest as you go. Eight hours' work, eight hours' play, eight hours' + sleep—that's the golden rule and the only one to live by. Money will + never get its grip on you if you keep this up. This fortune hasn't yet + tightened its fingers around your throat, or you would never have come up + here to give me half of it—and never let it! Money is your servant, + my boy, not your master. And now go home and kiss Ruth for me, and tell + her that I love her dearly. Wait a moment. I will go with you as far as + Isaac's. I am going to tell him the good news. Then I'll have him measure + me for a coat to dance at your wedding.” + </p> + <p> + And the Unexpecteds are not yet over. There was still another, of quite a + different character, about to fall—and out of another clear sky, too—a + sort of April-shower sky, where you get wet on one side of the street and + keep dry on the other. Jack had the dry side this time, and went on his + way rejoicing, but the head of the house of Breen caught the downpour, and + a very wet downpour it was. + </p> + <p> + It all occurred when Jack was hurrying to the ferry and when he ran into + the senior member of the firm, who was hurrying in the opposite direction. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Jack!—the very man I wanted to see,” cried Breen. “I was going + to write you. There's something doing up in that ore country. Better drop + in to-morrow, I may be able to handle it for you, after all.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry, sir, but it's not for sale,” said Jack, trying to smother his + glee. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” demanded Breen bluntly. + </p> + <p> + “I have sold it to Mr. Robert Guthrie.” + </p> + <p> + “Guthrie! The devil you say!—When?” + </p> + <p> + “To-day. The final papers are signed to-morrow. Excuse me, I must catch my + boat—” and away he went, his cup now brimming over, leaving Breen + biting his lips and muttering to himself as he gazed after him. + </p> + <p> + “Guthrie!—My customer! Damn that boy—I might have known he + would land on his feet.” + </p> + <p> + But Jack kept on home to his sweetheart, most of the way in the air. + </p> + <p> + Down in the little room all this time in the rear of the tailor's shop the + two old men sat talking. Peter kept nothing back; his lips quivering again + and another unbidden tear peeping over the edge of his eyelid when he told + of Jack's offer. + </p> + <p> + “A dear boy, Isaac—yes, a dear boy. He never thinks with his head—only + with his heart. Never has since I knew him. Impulsive, emotional, + unpractical, no doubt—and yet somehow he always wins. Queer—very + queer! He comes upstairs to me and I start out on a fool's errand. He goes + down to you, and you hand him out your money. He gives it all away the + next day, and then we have Guthrie doubling the price. Queer, I tell you, + Isaac—extraordinary, that's what it is—almost uncanny.” + </p> + <p> + The Jew threw away his cigar, rested his short elbows on the arms of his + chair, and made a basket of his hands, the tips of all his fingers + touching. + </p> + <p> + “No, you are wrong, my good friend. It is not extraordinary and it is not + uncanny. It is very simple—exceedingly simple. Nobody runs over a + child if he can help it. Even a thief will bring you back your pocket-book + if you trust him to take care of it. It is the trusting that does it. Few + men, no matter how crooked, can resist the temptation of reaching, if only + for a moment, an honest man's level.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIII + </h2> + <p> + Peter's coat was finished in time for the wedding—trust Isaac for + that—and so was his double-breasted white waistcoat—he had not + changed the cut in twenty years; and so were his pepper-and-salt trousers + and all his several appointments, little and big, even to his polka-dot + scarf of blue silk, patent-leather shoes and white gaiters. Quite the + best-dressed man in the room, everybody said, and they of all the people + in the world should have known. + </p> + <p> + And the wedding! + </p> + <p> + And all that went before it, and all that took place on that joyous day; + and all that came after that happiest of events! + </p> + <p> + Ruth and Jack, with Peter's covert endorsement, had wanted to slip into + the village church some afternoon at dusk, with daddy and Peter and Miss + Felicia, and one or two more, and then to slip out again and disappear. + MacFarlane had been in favor of the old Maryland home, with Ruth's + grandmother in charge, and the neighbors driving up in mud-encrusted + buggies and lumbering coaches, their inmates warmed by roaring fires and + roaring welcomes—fat turkeys, hot waffles, egg-nogg, apple-toddy, + and the rest of it. The head of the house of Breen expressed the opinion + (this on the day Jack gave his check for the bonds prior to returning them + to Isaac, who wouldn't take a cent of interest) that the ceremony should + by all means take place in Grace Church, after which everybody would + adjourn to his house on the Avenue, where the wedding-breakfast would be + served, he being nearest of kin to the groom, and the bride being + temporarily without a home of her own—a proposition which, it is + needless to say, Jack declined on the spot, but in terms so courteous and + with so grand and distinguished an air that the head of the house of Breen + found his wonder increasing at the change that had come over the boy since + he shook the dust of the Breen home and office from his feet. + </p> + <p> + The Grande Dame of Geneseo did not agree with any of these makeshifts. + There would be no Corklesville wedding if she could help it, with gaping + loungers at the church door; nor would there be any Maryland wedding with + a ten-mile ride over rough roads to a draughty country-house, where your + back would freeze while your cheeks burned up; nor yet again any city + wedding, with an awning over the sidewalk, a red carpet and squad of + police, with Tom, Dick, and Harry inside the church, and Harry, Dick and + Tom squeezed into an oak-panelled dining-room at high noon with every + gas-jet blazing. + </p> + <p> + And she did not waste many seconds coming to this conclusion. Off went a + telegram, after hearing the various propositions, followed by a letter, + that might have melted the wires and set fire to the mail-sack, so fervid + were the contents. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! My dear Ruth, you will be married in my house and the breakfast + will be in the garden. If Peter and your father haven't got any common + sense, that's no reason why you and Jack should lose your wits.” + </p> + <p> + This, of course, ended the matter. No one living or dead had ever been + found with nerve enough to withstand Felicia Grayson when she had once + made up her mind. + </p> + <p> + And then, again, there was no time to lose in unnecessary discussions. + Were not Ruth and her father picnicking in a hired villa, with half their + household goods in a box-car at Morfordsburg?—and was not Jack still + living in his two rooms at Mrs. Hicks's? The only change suggested by the + lovers was in the date of the wedding, Miss Felicia having insisted that + it should not take place until November, “FOUR WHOLE WEEKS AWAY.” But the + old lady would not budge. Four weeks at least, she insisted, would be + required for the purchase and making of the wedding clothes, which, with + four more for the honeymoon (at this both Jack and Ruth shouted with + laughter, they having determined on a honeymoon the like of which had + never been seen since Adam and Eve went to housekeeping in the Garden). + These eight weeks, continued the practical old lady, would be required to + provide a suitable home for them both; now an absolute necessity, seeing + that Mr. Guthrie had made extensive contracts with MacFarlane, which, with + Jack's one-fifth interest in the ore banks was sure to keep Jack and + MacFarlane at Morfordsburg for some years to come. + </p> + <p> + So whizz went another telegram—this time from Jack—there was + no time for letters these days—stopping all work on the nearly + completed log cabin which the poor young superintendent had ordered, and + which was all he could afford, before the sale of the ore lands. But then + THAT seemed ages and ages ago. + </p> + <p> + “Don't tell me what I want, sir,” roared Mr. Golightly at the waiter, in + “Lend Me Five Shillings,” when he brought a crust of bread and cheese and + a pickle with which to entertain Mrs. Phobbs; Golightly in the meantime + having discovered a purse full of sovereigns in the coat the waiter had + handed him by mistake. “Don't tell me what I said, sir. I know what I + said, sir! I said champagne, sir, and plenty of it, sir!—turkeys, + and plenty of them! + </p> + <p> + Burgundy—partridges—lobsters—pineapple punch—pickled + salmon—everything! Look sharp, Be off!” (Can't you hear dear Joe + Jefferson's voice, gentle reader, through it all?) + </p> + <p> + And now listen to our proud Jack, with the clink of his own gold in his + own pocket. + </p> + <p> + “What did you say? A six by nine log hut, with a sheet-iron stove in one + corner and a cast-iron bedstead in another, and a board closet, and a + table and two chairs—and this, too, for a princess of quality and + station? Zounds, sirrah!—” (Holker Morris was the “Sirrah”)—“I + didn't order anything of the kind. I ordered a bungalow all on one floor—that's + what I ordered—with a boudoir and two bedrooms, and an extra one for + my honored father-in-law, and still another for my thrice-honored uncle, + Mr. Peter Grayson, when he shall come to stay o' nights; and porches front + and back where my lady's hammock may be slung: and a fireplace big enough + to roll logs into as thick around as your body and wide enough to warm + every one all over; and a stable for my lady's mare, with a stall for my + saddle-horse. Out upon you, you Dago!” + </p> + <p> + Presto, what a change! Away went the completed roof of the modest cabin + and down tumbled the sides. More post-holes were dug; more trenches + excavated; more great oaks toppled over to be sliced into rafters, joists + and uprights; more shingles—two carloads; more brick; more plaster; + more everything, including nails, locks, hinges, sash; bath-tubs—two; + lead pipe, basins, kitchen range—and so the new bungalow was begun. + </p> + <p> + Neither was there any time to be lost over the invitations. Miss Felicia, + we may be sure, prepared the list. It never bothered her head whether the + trip to Geneseo—and that, too, in the fall of the year, when early + snows were to be expected—might prevent any of the invited guests + from witnessing the glad ceremony. Those who loved Ruth she knew would + come even if they had to be accompanied by St. Bernard dogs with kegs of + brandy tied to their necks to get them across the glaciers, including + Uncle Peter, of course; as would also Ruth's dear grandmother, who was + just Miss Felicia's age, and MacFarlane's saintly sister Kate, who had + never taken off her widow's weeds since the war, and two of her girl + friends, with whom Ruth went to school, and who were to be her + bridesmaids. + </p> + <p> + Then there were those who might or might not struggle through the drifts, + if there happened to be any—the head of the house of Breen, for + instance, and Mrs. B., and lots and lots of people of whom Jack had never + heard, aunts and uncles and cousins by the dozens; and lots and lots of + people of whom Ruth had never heard, of the same blood relationship; and + lots more of people from Washington Square and Murray Hill, who loved the + young people, and Peter, and his outspoken sister, all of whom must be + invited to the ceremony; including the Rector and his wife from + Corklesville, and—(no—that was all from Corklesville) together + with such selected inhabitants of Geneseo as dame Felicia permitted inside + of her doors. As for the several ambassadors, generals, judges, + dignitaries, attaches, secretaries, and other high and mighty folks + forming the circle of Miss Felicia's acquaintance, both here and abroad, + they were only to receive “announcement” cards, just as a reminder that + Miss Grayson of Geneseo was still in and of the world. + </p> + <p> + The hardest nut of all to crack was given to Jack. They had all talked it + over, the dear girl saying “of course he shall come, Jack, if you would + like to have him.” Jack adding that he should “never forget his + generosity,” and MacFarlane closing the discussion by saying: + </p> + <p> + “Go slow, Jack. I'd say yes in a minute. I am past all those foolish + prejudices, but it isn't your house, remember. Better ask Peter—he'll + tell you.” + </p> + <p> + Peter pursed his mouth when Jack laid the matter before him in Peter's + room the next day, tipped his head so far on one side that it looked as if + it might roll off any minute and go smash, and with an arching of his + eyebrows said: + </p> + <p> + “Well, but why NOT invite Isaac? Has anybody ever been as good to you?” + </p> + <p> + “Never any one, Uncle Peter—and I think as you do, and so does Ruth + and Mr. MacFarlane, but—” The boy hesitated and looked away. + </p> + <p> + “But what?” queried Peter. + </p> + <p> + “Well—there's Aunt Felicia. You know how particular she is; and she + doesn't know how splendid Mr. Cohen has been, and if he came to the + wedding she might not like it.” + </p> + <p> + “But Felicia is not going to be married, my boy,” remarked Peter, with a + dry smile wrinkling the corners of his eyes. + </p> + <p> + Jack laughed. “Yes—but it's her house.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—and your wedding. Now go down and ask Mr. Cohen yourself. + You'll send him a card, of course, but do more than that. Call on him + personally and tell you want him to come, and why—and that I want + him, too. That will please him still more. The poor fellow lives a great + deal alone. Whether he will come or not, I don't know—but ask him. + You owe it to yourself as much as you do to him.” + </p> + <p> + “And you don't think Aunt Felicia will—” + </p> + <p> + “Hang Felicia! You do what you think is right; it does not matter what + Felicia or anybody else thinks.” + </p> + <p> + Jack wheeled about and strode downstairs and into the back room where the + little man sat at his desk looking over some papers. Isaac's hand was out + and he was on his feet before Jack had reached his side. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!—Mr. Millionaire. And so you have come to tell me some more good + news. Have you sold another mine? I should have looked out to see whether + your carriage did not stop at my door; and now sit down and tell me what I + can do for you. How well you look, and how happy. Ah, it is very good to + be young!” + </p> + <p> + “What you can do for me is this, Mr. Cohen. I want you to come to our + wedding—will you? I have come myself to ask you,” said Jack in all + sincerity. + </p> + <p> + “So! And you have come yourself.” He was greatly pleased; his face showed + it. “Well, that is very kind of you, but let me first congratulate you. + Yes—Mr. Grayson told me all about it, and how lovely the young lady + is. And now tell me, when is your wedding?” + </p> + <p> + “Next month.” + </p> + <p> + “And where will it be?” + </p> + <p> + “At Uncle Peter's old home up at Geneseo.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, at that grand lady's place—the magnificent Miss Grayson.” “Yes, + but it is only one night away. I will see that you are taken care of.” + </p> + <p> + The little man paused and toyed with the papers on his desk. His black, + diamond-pointed eyes sparkled and an irrepressible smile hung around his + lips. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you very much, Mr. Breen—and thank your young lady too. You + are very kind and you are very polite. Yes—I mean it—very + polite. And you are sincere in what you say; that is the best of all. But + I cannot go. It is not the travelling at night—that is nothing. You + and your lady would be glad to see me and that would be worth it all, but + the magnificent Miss Grayson, she would not be glad to see me. You see, my + dear young man”—here the smile got loose and scampered up to his + eyelids—“I am a most unfortunate combination—oh, most + unfortunate—for the magnificent Miss Grayson. If I was only a tailor + I might be forgiven; if I was just a Jew I might be forgiven; but when I + am both a tailor and a Jew”—here the irrepressible went to pieces in + a merry laugh—“don't you see how impossible it is? And you—you, + Mr. Breen! She would never forgive you. 'My friend, Mr. Cohen,' you would + have to say, and she could do nothing. She must answer that she is most + glad to see me—or she might NOT answer, which would be worse. And it + is not her fault. You can't break down the barriers of centuries in a day. + No—no—I will not compromise you in that way. Let me come to + see you some time when it is all over, when your good uncle can come too. + He will bring me; perhaps. And now give my best respects to the lady—I + forget her name, and say to her for me, that if she is as thoughtful of + other people as you are, you deserve to be a very happy couple.” + </p> + <p> + Jack shook the little man's hand and went his way. He was sorry and he was + glad. He was also somewhat ashamed in his heart. It was not altogether + himself who had been thoughtful of other people. But for Peter, perhaps, + he might never have paid the visit. + </p> + <p> + As the blissful day approached Geneseo was shaken to its centre, the + vibrations reaching to the extreme limits of the town. Not only was + Moggins who drove the village 'bus and tucked small packages under the + seat on the sly, overworked, but all the regular and irregular express + companies had to put on extra teams. Big box, little box, band box, + bundle, began to pour in, to say nothing of precious packages that nobody + but “Miss Grayson” could sign for. And then such a litter of cut paper and + such mounds of pasteboard boxes poked under Miss Felicia's bed, so she + could defend them in the dead of night, and with her life if necessary, + each one containing presents, big and little; the very biggest being a + flamboyant service of silver from the head of the house of Breen and his + wife, and the smallest a velvet-bound prayer-book from Aunt Kate with + inter-remembrances from MacFarlane (all the linen, glass, and china); from + Peter (two old decanters with silver coasters); from Miss Felicia (the + rest of her laces, besides innumerable fans and some bits of rare + jewelry); besides no end of things from the Holker Morrises and the + Fosters and dozens of others, who loved either Ruth or Jack, or somebody + whom each one or both of them loved, or perhaps their fathers and mothers + before them. The Scribe has forgotten the list and the donors, and really + it is of no value, except as confirmation of the fact that they are still + in the possession of the couple, and that none of them was ever exchanged + for something else nor will be until the end of time. + </p> + <p> + One curious-looking box, however, smelling of sandalwood and dried + cinnamon, and which arrived the day the ceremony took place, is worthy of + recall, because of the universal interest which it excited. It was marked + “Fragile” on the outside, and was packed with extraordinary care. Miss + Felicia superintended the unrolling and led the chorus of “Oh, how + lovely!” herself, when an Imari jar, with carved teakwood stand, was + brought to light. So exquisite was it in glaze, form, and color that for a + moment no one thought of the donor. Then their curiosity got the better of + them and they began to search through the wrappings for the card. It + wasn't in the box; it wasn't hidden in the final bag; it wasn't—here + a bright thought now flashed through the dear lady's brain—down went + her shapely hand into the depths of the tall jar, and up came an envelope + bearing Ruth's name and enclosing a card which made the grande dame catch + her breath. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Isaac Cohen! What—the little tailor!” she gasped out. “The Jew! + Well, upon my word—did you ever hear of such impudence!” + </p> + <p> + Isaac would have laughed the harder could he have seen her face. + </p> + <p> + Jack caught up the vase and ran with it to Ruth, who burst out with + another: “Oh, what a beauty!” followed by “Who sent it?” + </p> + <p> + “A gentleman journeyman tailor, my darling,” said Jack, with a flash of + his eye at Peter, his face wreathed in smiles. + </p> + <p> + And with the great day—a soft November day—summer had lingered + on a-purpose—came the guests: the head of the house of Breen and his + wife—not poor Corinne, of course, who poured out her heart in a + letter instead, which she entrusted to her mother to deliver; and Holker + Morris and Mrs. Morris, and the Fosters and the Granthams and Wildermings + and their wives and daughters and sons, and one stray general, who stopped + over on his way to the West, and who said when he entered, looking so very + grand and important, that he didn't care whether he had been invited to + the ceremony or not, at which Miss Felicia was delighted, he being a + major-general on the retired list, and not a poor tailor who—no, we + won't refer to that again; besides a very, VERY select portion of the dear + lady's townspeople—the house being small, as she explained, and Miss + MacFarlane's intimates and acquaintances being both importunate and + numerous. + </p> + <p> + And with the gladsome hour came the bride. + </p> + <p> + None of us will ever forget her. Not only was she a vision of rare + loveliness, but there was in her every glance and movement that + stateliness and grace that poise and sureness of herself that marks the + high-born woman the world over when she finds herself the cynosure of all + eyes. + </p> + <p> + All who saw her descend Miss Felicia's stairs held their breath in + adoration: Not a flight of steps at all, but a Jacob's ladder down which + floated a company of angels in pink and ivory—one all in white, her + lovely head crowned by a film of old lace in which nestled a single rose. + </p> + <p> + On she came—slowly—proudly—her slippered feet touching + the carpeted steps as daintily as treads a fawn; her gown crinkling into + folds of silver about her knees, one fair hand lost in a mist of gauze, + the other holding the blossoms which Jack had pressed to his lips—until + she reached her father's side. + </p> + <p> + “Dear daddy,” I heard her whisper as she patted his sleeve with her + fingers. + </p> + <p> + Ah! but it was a proud day for MacFarlane. I saw his bronzed and + weather-beaten face flush when he caught sight of her in all her gracious + beauty; but it was when she reached his side and laid her hand on his arm, + as he told me afterward, that the choke came. She was so like her mother. + </p> + <p> + The two swept past me into the old-fashioned parlor, now a bower of roses, + where Jack and Peter and Felicia, with the elect, waited their coming, and + I followed, halting at the doorway. From this point of vantage I peered in + as best I could over and between the heads of the more fortunate, but I + heard all that went on; the precise, sonorous voice of the bishop—(catch + Miss Felicia having anybody but a bishop); the clear responses—especially + Jack's—as if he had been waiting all his life to say those very + words and insisted on being heard; the soft crush of satin as Ruth knelt; + the rustle of her gown when she regained her feet; the measured words: + “Whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder”—and then the + outbreak of joyous congratulations. As I looked in upon them all—old + fellow as I am—listening to their joyous laughter; noting the + wonderful toilettes, the festoons and masses of flowers; watching Miss + Felicia as she moved about the room (and never had I seen her more the + “Grande Dame” than she was that day), welcoming her guests with a + graciousness that must have opened some of their eyes—even fat, + red-faced Arthur Breen, perspiring in pearl-colored gloves and a morning + frock coat that fitted all sides of him except the front, and Mrs. Arthur + in moire antique and diamonds, were enchanted; noting, too, Peter's + perfectly appointed dress and courtly manners, he taking the whole + responsibility of the occasion on his own shoulders—head of the + house, really, for the time; receiving people at the door; bowing them out + again; carrying glasses of punch—stopping to hobnob with this or + that old neighbor: “Ah, my dear Mrs. Townehalle, how young and well you + look; and you tell me this is your daughter. I knew your mother, my dear, + when she was your age, and she was the very prettiest girl in the county. + And now let me present you to a most charming woman, Mrs. Foster, of New + York, who—” etc., etc. Or greeting some old gray-head with: “Well, + well—of course it is—why, Judge, I haven't seen you since you + left the bench which you graced so admirably,” etc, etc.; watching, too, + Ruth and Jack as they stood beneath a bower of arching roses—(Miss + Felicia had put it together with her own hands)—receiving the + congratulations and good wishes of those they knew and those they did not + know; both trying to remember the names of strangers; both laughing over + their mistakes, and both famished for just one kiss behind some door or + curtain where nobody could see. As I looked on, I say, noting all these + and a dozen other things, it was good to feel that there was yet another + spot in this world of care where unbridled happiness held full sway and + joy and gladness were contagious. + </p> + <p> + But it was in the tropical garden, with its frog pond, climbing roses in + full bloom, water-lilies, honeysuckle, and other warm-weather shrubs and + plants (not a single thing was a-bloom outside, even the chrysanthemums + had been frost-bitten), that the greatest fun took place. That was a sight + worth ten nights on the train to see. + </p> + <p> + Here the wedding breakfast was spread, the bride's table being placed + outside that same arbor where Jack once tried so hard to tell Ruth he + loved her (how often have they laughed over it since); a table with covers + for seven, counting the two bridesmaids and the two gallants in puffy + steel-gray scarfs and smooth steel-gray gloves. The other guests—the + relations and intimate friends who had been invited to remain after the + ceremony—were to find seats either at the big or little tables + placed under the palms or beneath the trellises of jasmine, or upon the + old porch overlooking the tropical garden. + </p> + <p> + It was Jack's voice that finally caught my attention. I could not see + clearly on account of the leaves and tangled vines, but I could hear. + </p> + <p> + “But we want you, and you must.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, please, do,” pleaded Ruth; there was no mistaking the music of her + tones, or the southern accent that softened them. + </p> + <p> + “But what nonsense—an old duffer like me!” This was Peter's voice—no + question about it. + </p> + <p> + “We won't any of us sit down if you don't,” Jack was speaking now. + </p> + <p> + “And it will spoil everything,” cried Ruth. “Jack and I planned it long + ago; and we have brought you out a special chair; and see your card—see + what it says: 'Dear Uncle Peter—'” + </p> + <p> + “Sit down with you young people at your wedding breakfast!” cried Peter, + “and—” He didn't get any farther. Ruth had stopped what was to + follow with a kiss. I know, for I craned my neck and caught the flash of + the old fellow's bald head with the fair girl's cheek close to his own. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then—just as you want it—but there's the Major and + Felicia and your father.” + </p> + <p> + But they did not want any of these people, Ruth cried with a ringing + laugh; didn't want any old people; they just wanted their dear Uncle + Peter, and they were going to have him; a resolution which was put to vote + and carried unanimously, the two pink bridesmaids and the two steel-gray + gentlemen voting the loudest. + </p> + <p> + The merriment ceased when Ruth disappeared and came back in a dark-blue + travelling dress and Jack in a brown suit. We were all in the doorway, our + hands filled with rose petals—no worn-out slippers or hail of rice + for this bride—when she tried to slip through in a dash for the + carriage, but the dear lady caught and held her, clasping the girl to her + heart, kissing her lips, her forehead, her hands—she could be very + tender when she loved anybody; and she loved Ruth as her life; Peter and + her father going ahead to hold open the door where they had their kisses + and handshakes, their blessings, and their last words all to themselves. + </p> + <p> + The honeymoon slipped away as do all honeymoons, and one crisp, cool + December day a lumbering country stage containing two passengers struggled + up a steep hill and stopped before a long, rambling building nearing + completion. All about were piles of partly used lumber, broken bundles of + shingles, empty barrels, and abandoned mortar beds. Straight from the low + slanting roof with its queer gables, rose a curl of blue smoke, telling of + comfort and cheer within. Back of it towered huge trees, and away off in + the distance swept a broad valley hazy in the morning light. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Jack—what a love!” cried one passenger—she had alighted + with a spring, her cheeks aglow with the bracing mountain air, and was + standing taking it all in. “And, oh—see the porch!—and the + darling windows and the dear little panes of glass! And, Jack—” she + had reached the open door now, and was sweeping her eyes around the + interior—“Oh!—oh!—what a fireplace!—and such ducky + little shelves—and the flowers, and the table and the big easy + chairs and rugs! ISN'T it lovely!!” + </p> + <p> + And then the two, hand in hand, stepped inside and shut the door. + </p> + <p> + THE END. <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Peter, by F. Hopkinson Smith + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PETER *** + +***** This file should be named 4516-h.htm or 4516-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/4/5/1/4516/ + +Produced by Robert Rowe, Charles Franks, David Widger +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” + or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +http://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + </body> +</html> |