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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8122219 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #55340 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/55340) diff --git a/old/55340-0.txt b/old/55340-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 4f09dcc..0000000 --- a/old/55340-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11609 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Squire Phin, by Holman Day - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Squire Phin - -Author: Holman Day - -Release Date: August 11, 2017 [EBook #55340] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SQUIRE PHIN *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - - - - -SQUIRE PHIN - -By Holman Day - -New York: Harper & Brothers - -1913 - - -[Illustration: 0001] - - -[Illustration: 0003] - - -[Illustration: 0010] - - -[Illustration: 0011] - - -[Illustration: 0013] - - - - -SQUIRE PHIN - - - - -CHAPTER I--“HARD-TIMES” WHARFF COCKS HIS NOSE TO SNIFF TROUBLE - - “Miss Lu-ce-e-e had a par-ret, - - An’ she kep’ it in the gar-ret, - - An’ she fed it on a car-ret, - - An’ she called him J. Iscar-ret, - - Tidy-um, - - Tidy-um! - - “An’ the par-ret had a feather - - That was blue in stormy weather, - - Or ‘twas red,--I donno whether, - - But ‘twas either one or t’ether, - - Tidy-um, - - Tidy-um!” - - --Favourite Song of “Hard-times” Wharff. - -The village sounds in Palermo that sleepy afternoon were only the -“summer snorin’s,” as Marriner Amazeen used to say. There was the murmur -of flies buzzing lazily around some banana, skins which curled limply -in the August sun in front of Asa Brickett’s store. At the side of the -building, in a patch of shade, a half-dozen old men, jack-knifed on a -rickety settee, droned in intermittent conversation. From open kitchen -windows along the village street came subdued sounds of the after-dinner -work of the housewives--clash of cutlery and clatter of dishes. In a -dusty maple whose lower branches had taken toll from passing loads of -hay, a cicada shrilled his long-drawn note, like an almost interminable -yawn. - -“First August fiddler I’ve heard,” commented one of the old men in the -shade. “As old Drew used to say in his _Rural Intelligencer_: - - “When August’s locusts wind their horn - - Then first you know, Good Summer’s gone!” - -“Well, you don’t have to walk very fur in this sun to find out that she -ain’t gone yit,” remarked an old man who had just arrived. He picked a -few fresh burdock leaves and stuffed them into the crown of his cotton -hat. “Some one ought to make ’Quar’us Wharff come in here out o’ -that sun,” he growled, scowling at a figure that stood on the corner -of Brickett’s store platform, as straight and stiff as the gnawed -hitching-post on the opposite corner. - -With cadence fully as sleepy as the other sounds of the languorous -afternoon, a squeaking whiffle-tree came down the avenue of elms that -bordered the street. - -The whiffle-tree was attached to a surrey that showed a city smartness -of paint and trimmings under the dust. The bulk of the man on the front -seat strained his linen coat. The two ladies on the back seat, evidently -his wife and daughter, fairly crushed the springs with their weight. - -The portly man pulled up at the watering trough in Palermo’s little -square and grunted over the wheel. When the horses began to wallow in -the tub, plunging their reeking noses almost to their eyes, he handed -the reins to his wife and walked toward the store, his gaze upon a bunch -of wilted bananas that dangled just inside the door. - -The six gaunt men in the shade surveyed this triple display of city -avoirdupois with disfavour. Somehow it all seemed a silent boast of -urban prosperity. - -“I don’t reckon his woman needs to hang onto them reins very tight,” - grunted Uncle Lysimachus Buck. “It’s all them horses can do to walk with -that load--much less run away.” - -“All city folks do is stuff themselves mornin’, noon and night, and then -’tween meals,” said Marriner Amazeen. “He’s after suthin’ to eat now, -and I’ll bet ye on it.” - -“How much for a dozen of those bananas?” asked the rotund man, -addressing the individual who stood so stiffly on the corner of the -platform. - -“Wind sou’ by one p’int to the west, havin’ swung from west by nothe,” - was the reply. He did not look at his questioner, but kept his head -straight and his nose in the air. - -“That ain’t nothin’ but ’Quar’us havin’ a weather-vane spell,” - apologised Brickett, appearing in the door and lounging against the side -of the building. He drawled, “I’ll sell ye fifteen for a quarter. Help -yourself.” - -The stranger broke off the fruit, stuffed it into his wide pockets, -placed the change in Brickett’s languid palm, and went back to his -carriage, casting an eye of scorn on the platform sentinel as he -repassed him. - -Then he climbed painfully back to his seat. With a grunt he pulled -the reluctant horses back from the trough, where they were now making -pretence of drinking, sucked his tongue at them pantingly and proceeded -on his “carriage tour of the coast.” - -As the horses plodded into the sun-glare from under the village elms, -the portly man swung around and said to his wife and daughter: “The town -pump and the town clock and the town fool, fifty houses bunched around -’em and everybody asleep! My God, think of living in a place like this -all your life.” - -“The old man standing on the store platform wasn’t crazy, was he, papa?” - the daughter inquired. - -“Why don’t you use your eyes once in a while, Belle?” the fat man -snorted. “The way country towns let old lunatics run at large is -something awful.” - -He whipped up and the surrey clattered across the bridge at the head of -the cove. There was a puff of cool air from the shadows where the tide -gurgled about the weedy piles, and the three people went on around the -hill with the tang of the salt smell in their nostrils, and in their -minds a totally erroneous idea of Palermo and one of its institutions. - -Fat city men are sometimes too matter-of-fact to understand the -eccentricities of genius. This traveller simply went on--out of Palermo -and out of this story--he and his wife and his daughter, his reeking -horses and smart surrey. He beheld Aquarius Wharff actually engaged in -his biggest job of prognostication---snuffing at the first of a train of -events that “ripped open” Palermo--and yet he only clucked to his horses -and drove on and never realised what he had observed. - -“Hard-times” Wharff had been standing for quite two hours in the -broiling sun on the extreme corner of Asa Brickett’s grocery store -platform. His attitude was familiar enough to his townsmen. He was on -the tripod, so to speak, as a soothsayer, though it is hardly proper, -perhaps, to speak of one leg as a tripod. He wearily balanced himself, -shifting feet from time to time. His dingy old felt hat had the crown -pinched to a peak and, before and behind, the broad brim was similarly -pinched to peaks. The effect was somewhat that of a general’s chapeau, -and its ludicrous illusion was heightened by a considerable assortment -of rooster’s tail feathers thrust into the crown. - -When “Hard-times”--a name more generally employed locally than -Aquarius--stood on one foot in front of Brickett’s store, his hat -flattened fore and aft--‘twas known by local observers that he was -having one of his “weather-vane spells.” Now, this little fancy harmed -no one, and it was agreed in Palermo that no other resident could smell -a change of weather so far ahead as Aquarius Wharff. - -If he stood on two feet, well balanced, and glowered grimly, he was -merely indulging in a fancy for his own amusement. Though he never -explained his ruminations to any one, it was suspected that he revelled -in a proud triumph of the imagination and felt all the haughtiness of a -bald-headed eagle. Certain it is that Palermo respected his abstraction -and did not smile when he stroked his plumage and fixed a still more -piercing gaze on the horizon. - -Aquarius Wharff believed--and his townsmen agreed--that as a -weather-vane he was distinctly serviceable to Palermo. He would -inveigh against the inaccuracy of the dingy, rusty arrow on the Union -Meeting-house, and then would perk his nose into the wind, and rotate -himself on his wavering leg to show his own superior manageability. When -he permitted himself to play eagle it was purely for his own relaxation. - -When he was not engaged in either pursuit Aquarius Wharff was a mild -and neighbourly man who lived with his “old maid” sister, Virgo, in the -little brown house beyond the currier shop. His twin delusions were his -only “outs,” and his tolerant neighbours in Palermo had long ago ceased -to pay any attention to his divagations. But when a man stands for -two hours in the broiling sun in one attitude he makes a picture that -disturbs his friends. Uncle Lysimachus Buck, whose chair was propped -against the side of the store in the shade, desisted from “teaming” - a worried caterpillar with his cane and called querously: “For -timenation’s sake, ’Quar’us, come set down out o’ the sun, do! It -makes me steam and sweat to look at ye.” - -“Wind quart’rin’ to west’ard, mack’rel sky, sign o’ rain, hard times -gen’rally and nothin’ ’cept air put into doughnut holes nowadays,” - croaked Aquarius without turning his head; “I jest see six crows fly -s’uth’ards from the Cod-Head spruces, and that means somethin’ ’sides -a heavy fog.” - -He shifted to his other leg and set his neck more stiffly, and continued -at his feat of endurance with the pertinacity of an Indian fakir. - -“He’ll git sunstruck, sure’s Tophet’s a poor place to store powder in,” - commented Buck. His snappy tones indicated that his selfishness at being -annoyed by the figure in the sun’s glare was more provoked than his -solicitude. - -“Why don’t you git under a tree and rest?” he demanded. “An’ if you’re -bound and determined to play dog-vane, then hold an emb’rel over -yourself. Swan, if it don’t make me dizzy to watch him!” Uncle Buck took -off his cotton hat and turned the burdock leaves in the crown to bring -their cool surface next to his bald head. - -“I’ve thought at times that ’Quar’us was losin’ his mind some--more’n -what runs in the family,” observed Dow Babb, unhooking his toe from -behind his ankle and immediately retwisting his long, gaunt legs in the -other direction. His townsmen had nicknamed him “Fly” Babb on account of -this trait. - -“He ain’t nobody’s fool, ’Quar’us ain’t,” remarked Brickett, who, -in the midday dearth of traffic, was lounging at the shady side of the -store. “Them Wharffses is weather-struck and always was so, ’way back. -It runs in the fam’ly--seems to! Old Gran’ther Wharff, you know, kept a -di’ry of storms, droughts, hot and cold streaks and all such, till the -day he died, and his son Zodiac figured out of that di’ry all the signs -of storms and so forth. I’ve got ’em writ some’ere in my desk--change -o’ wind, birds’ flyin’s, bugs’ actions, cobweb signs on the grass and -all! Yass’r, the weather streak runs in the family, all right.” - -“I reckon it must ’a’ been runnin’ hard in Zodiac Wharff,” snorted -Buck, “to make him saddle sech names on to his children as ’Quarius, -Capri-cornus, A-rees, Virgo and--what was that light-complected one that -went West and got lugged off by a terronado? I can never think of that -dum name!” - -“Sagittar’us, wa’n’t it?” suggested Brickett. - -“Ye-e-aw, that’s it, and he called them ‘Signs of the Zodiac,’ Zode did. -No wonder the most of ’em died young in that fam’ly! Names like them -would kill yaller dogs.” - -“’Quar’us, ain’t you comin’ in out o’ that blaze o’ sun?” rasped Buck. - -“Don’t buther me when I’m prognosticatin’,” replied the stubborn -meteorologist; “ain’t you gittin’ all your weather from me free--and -hard times all ’round us at that--wind shiftin’s and signs and -portents and all the wonders of the heavens? Then lemme alone. Kingbird -chasin’ a crow,” he went on with his eye on the horizon, where the -dwarf spruces bristled on Cod-Head like spikes on a huge quillpig. “And -’tain’t all weather that’s a-comin’ this way to-day.” - -“Spite o’ that loony streak in the Wharffses they have done some pretty -tol’lable s’prisin’ things,” observed Dow Babb, untwisting his legs -and reversing his clutch. “There’s somethin’ else in ’em besides that -weather crack. Now, we all know here in P’ler-mo that ’Quar’us can -smell a weather change quick’s a groundhog can. Born with the faculty, -you might say. Takes it from old Zode, and even further back, for that -matter. But him and Virgo, both of ’em, take somethin’ different than -the weather streak from the mother’s side. She was old Rudd Goffses’ -girl of Smyrna Mills, and old Rudd could cast a mist.” - -“I’ve heard he could,” vouchsafed Marriner Amazeen, striking the -dottle from his clay pipe into his hard palm with a flare of sparks and -preparing for a refill. - -“He was born with a caul, Rudd was.” - -“Heard that, too,” tersely agreed Amazeen. “Old Aunt Spencer ’fore she -died was tellin’ my mother that the caul was just like lace, and came -down all ‘round his face, and they had to untie it where it was knotted -behind jest like a woman’s veil.” - -“Yass’r, he had the second sight and the seventh sense, and he could -really magick folks, Rudd could,” Babb went on; “and there’s people -alive right over in Smyrna to-day that’ll tell you what they’ve seen -with their two eyes. ’Tain’t no use for us to poo-hoo things that was -before our time, just ’cause we didn’t see ’em. I tell you, the old -sirs could do things we couldn’t, and Rudd was one of the best o’ -the lot in the magickin’ line. One day down to Smyrna, in the Guild -deestrick, he cast a mist on much as a dozen people at once, and they -thought they saw a Braymy rooster of old Matherson’s haulin’ off a -twenty foot log up street. Whilst they was standin’ gawpin’, ’long -come old Zene Sparks and says, ‘What ye standin’ here for, all on ye?’ - -“‘Ain’t it enough of a thing to stand around for when a rooster is -haulin’ off a log like that?’ asked one o’ the crowd, pointin’ his -finger. - -“Zeke ups and says, ‘That rooster must be owin’ all on ye money by the -way you’re lookin’ at him. He ain’t doin’ anything except walk along -with an oat straw hitched to his tail!’ - -“And that’s all there was to it, so fur’s Zene could see. The mist -wasn’t cast on him, you understand, for he wasn’t there at the -start-off.” - -There followed an interval of meditative silence, broken at length by -the slow voice of Amazeen, beginning another chronicle. - -“I’ve heard tell,” he droned, “of Rudd bettin’ ten bushels of oats down -to the old blacksmith shop that used to set where the curry shop sets -now, that he would put his head right against the butt of a hemlock log -that laid in the yard and crawl right through it lengthwise and come -out o’ the little end. They took him up--the three or four that was -there--and he got down on his hands and knees, and they all swear to a -man that he went right out o’ sight into that log. Up come a man that -the mist wasn’t over, and when they told him what kind of a hen was on -he vowed and declared that he couldn’t see nothin’ out o’ the way but -old Rudd Goff crawlin’ along the top of the log, and then the man up and -gave Rudd a jeerously old swat with his gad-stick, and Rudd come hopping -off that log in a hurry, now, I tell you. And all could see him then. -He laid his hands on the tingly place and he let into that man hot and -heavy, so fur’s language would take him. If Rudd’s tongue had been a -horsewhip that man would have ridges all over him. But as it was they -haw-hawed old Rudd off’n the premises. He could cast a mist, though, -there ain’t no doubt about that! And there was lots of old sirs that -could.” - -Babb retwisted his legs with a nervous snap as he concluded. - -The little group in the shade gazed on the solitary figure bathed in -the beating August sunshine. For a moment he ceased to be in their -eyes merely old “Hard-Times” Wharff. They stared at him with a bit of -superstitious respect, as they always did when they remembered how the -blood of old Rudd Goff was in him. - -“You’ve got to own up that there are queer things in this world.” - mumbled Amazeen. - -The old man on the platform revolved slightly on his single leg of -support. He slowly swung his head from side to side, his eyes still on -the horizon line. - -“They’ve lit five times and ris’ five times and circled five times and -now lit again,” he cried. - -“Who’s lit?” demanded Uncle Buck snappishly. - -“Crows.” - -“Well, what if they have? They know enough to get down out of the sun. -Come in here, ’Quar’us, with us. I can hear what few brains you’ve got -sizzlin’ like a pan o’ tomcod a-fryin’!” - -“Over the hills! Crows a-flyin’ and crows a-watch-in’! Hard times -comin’, that’s what I guess.” - -“I s’pose there’s really a name for that--that--well, the sense for -knowin’ that somethin’ is comin’ in the weather line or mebbe the line -o’ trouble,” pursued Amazeen, puffing meditatively. It was a placid -afternoon for quiet and contemplative discourse of this sort. - -Little breezes wavered along the shady side of Brickett’s store and -stirred the grasses. Other breezes skylarked through the wide-open -front doors of the store and came out at the side door near the old men. -Inside the store the breezes did what the people of Palermo usually did -when they visited Brickett’s emporium--they swapped commodities. The -breezes brought their little treasures of pure, salty fragrance from the -cove and took away queer little whiffs of spices that were stacked in -wooden boxes, sickish-sweet scents from the tobacco “figs,” aroma of -coffee and tea, flavourings from the candy show case and more pungent -odours of kerosene and dried herring. - -“Now a dog,” stated Amazeen, “don’t really have no common sense like -human bein’s, but then a dog knows when any one’s goin’ to die in a -neighbourhood, and don’t he git out front o’ the house and stick his -nose straight up in the air and lally-hoo till some one kicks him -gallywest? That’s a sense of knowin’ ahead o’ time, and he’s born with -it--and that’s somethin’ how ’tis with ’Quar’us. Them as says he’s -just loony ain’t watched him same’s I have.” - -The old man on the platform had shifted his legs again. The breeze -fluttered his long hair and the sun was stealing the last of the -original colour from his yellowed garments. The men in the shade were -silent, partly from slumbrous laziness, partly because their slow minds -were once again revolving one of their stock problems: What mysterious -faculty of divination did “Hard-Times” Wharff possess? - -“There ain’t no disputin’ that he’s foretold full a dozen line gales -that was comin’ to rip the stuffin’ out o’ things ’long the coast,” - said Brickett. “That much we all know! Time the school-house was burned -down he had it all predicted out--leastways, he told ’round that the -critter with red tongue and crackling teeth and all out doors for a -gizzard was comin’ towards our village--and that’s a fire, ain’t it? -He’s seen shrouds in candles for fifty fam’lies in P’lermo, I’ll -bet you, just come to count ’em up! There’s -somethin’--somethin’--‘lectricity--or hypnotickism, or somethin’! These -scientists will git it figured out some day!” - -They all pondered in silence, the hush of the sultry afternoon drowsily -brooding. In the store shed a stub-tailed horse dozed uneasily between -the thills of Dow Babb’s beach waggon, occasionally thudding his hoof in -the soft soil, trying to dislodge the clustering flies. Somewhere in the -maple tree the cicada whirred in long, shrill diminuendo. - -“I ain’t no sp’tu’list or nothin’ of that sort,” broke out Uncle Buck. -“And I don’t b’lieve in no sech things like you’re talkin’ about, nor -that any Wharff that ever lived was anything except cracked--like that -old one-legged her’n out there,” he added, directing an eye of disfavour -on Aquarius. “I tell you if they could cast mists in the old times, -then why can’t they do it now, when everything is so much -improved---telefoams and telegraphts and ’lectric cars and all that? -Any man that ever claimed to see a rooster haul off a log was a dum liar -if he said so.” - -Dow Babb flipped his legs together indignantly. - -“’Tain’t any particular politeness to call my rel’tives names, is it?” - he demanded. “Furdermore, uncle never said he see the rooster act’ly -_haul_ a log; he said it _looked_ as if he had done it, ’cause the -mist had been cast.” - -“Ain’t nothin’ in it no one way or t’other,” persisted Uncle Buck -doggedly. “’Tain’t reasonable, ’tain’t Christian, and whatever -’tis it’s works of Satan, and I, as a church member, ain’t goin’ to -stand by and let things like that be said without aye, yes or no to -’em!” He thudded his fist on his knee. - -“I’ll bet there is such things as magic and--aw--well, you can call it -witchcraft,” cried Babb, rather hampered in argument by lack of terms. -“Come now, I’ll bet you!” - -“What do you propose to do--call up your Uncle Ben from Turtle Knoll -graveyard or--or leave it out to old Wind-cutter, there?” queried Buck, -sarcastically, with a hook of his thumb toward the Palermo human weather -vane. - -Babb was clearly nonplussed for a moment, but his face suddenly lighted -up. He untangled his legs, crawled out of his chair and cried: - -“I’ll leave it out to the man that P’lermo is always ready to leave out -all questions to--and that’s Squire Phin Look, by thunder!” - -He shook his skinny finger at the dingy windows over Brickett’s store. - -“If he don’t know there ain’t nobody does,” observed Brickett, clicking -his yellow teeth with decision. - -“Why should he know? ’Tain’t law, nor nothin’ that goes with law,” - persisted Buck. - -“You see if he don’t know,” retorted Babb. “It wa’n’t lo’din’ a jackass -with books when Squire Look went through college. Now let’s go up and -ask him, boys--what ye say?” - -“Oh, holler to him to come down here,” drawled Amazeen, loath to leave -his seat. “There ain’t chairs enough in his office to go ’round -amongst us--and I’ve been sick of the smell of law books ever since I -lost my bound’ry line case.” - -Therefore Babb threw back his head and bawled huskily, “Squire Phin! -Squire Phin Look!” From his mouth, as from the mouths of all Palermo, -the title sounded like “Square.” At the second call they heard a chair’s -legs pushed squeakingly on the floor and an answering bellow that was -jovial though wordless. And those who had straightened up to listen -lounged lazily down again to wait for him. - -A rickety outside stairway led up to the Squire’s office. - -On the old tin sign between the dusty front windows was: - - PHINEAS LOOK - - Attorney and Notary - -The purr of the coffee grinder in the store beneath was a frequent -obbligato to the conferences between Squire Phin and his clients, and -the savour of spice and odour of kerosene stole up through the floor -cracks to mingle with the decidedly athletic fragrance of the Squire’s -blackened T. D. pipe. - -Once he forgot one of those sooty-hued pipes and left it in the -attorney’s room at county court, and the young lawyers got ribbons and -hung it from a chandelier with a card reading, “Erected in Memory of -Phin Look.” Squire Look patiently hunted for that pipe when he went -to county court again, for its stoutness, after many months of careful -seasoning, appealed to his taste. But he never looked as high as the -chandelier. - -Folks who knew Squire Phin well declared that he had never looked high -enough in life--not as high as his merits entitled. Men who understood -such things said that he knew enough law to match any judge on the State -bench, but in middle life he was still sitting up in his little office -over Brickett’s store, smoking his pipe and reading his fat law books, -with their shiny, hand-smooched bindings. - -“Well, boys!” he said, as he came out upon the landing above them and -leaned over the rail. “What do you want to do--nominate me for Congress -at a mass-meeting?” - -Without waiting for a reply he jammed a round-topped straw hat upon his -thick hair and came down the stairs with solid tread. A fat and fuzzy -old dog followed on his heels with tread comically similar. “I had two -of ’em once,” he was wont to say, “Eli and Uli, but I gave away Uli to -another lawyer and kept Eli.” - -“They say, Squire Look,” began Uncle Buck, as soon as the lawyer came -within hearing, “that you can tell us whether old ‘Hard-Times’ there -ought to be hitched up on town hall cupoly as a vane or sent to the -insane ’sylum.” - -“It ain’t fair to put it that way,” remonstrated Dow Babb, and he -proceeded to state the point of contention. - -The two deep lines on either side of the Squire’s straight mouth curved -away, and his round, smooth-shaven face beamed upon them humorously. - -“It isn’t the first time, gentlemen,” he said, “that the motives of -a philanthropist have been misconstrued by the people to whom he has -presented himself and his services.” - -“What I contend,” broke in Dow Babb, “is that ’Quar’us has a sort of -seventh sense to smell happening ahead. I don’t know what to call it, -but it’s like what a dog has to make him go to howlin’ when some one’s -goin’ to die.” - -“Well, you ought to ask Eli about that,” suggested the Squire, his smile -broader. “That seems to be right in his line,” and then, looking down -into the humid eyes of the dog, he asked, “Eli, why do you howl when -some one is going to die?” - -The canine, who was squatting on the grass, thumped his tail agitatedly -and uttered a short “Wuff!” - -“Can you talk dog well enough to understand?” asked the lawyer of Buck. - -“Now, Squire,” pleaded Babb whiningly, “you tell us straight. This ain’t -foolin’. We ain’t been able to coax the old sir off’n that platform so -fur this afternoon. He was like that on the days before the line storms -and on them other times. He don’t act out a weather vane usually more’n -a half hour on a stretch and then sets down and chaws tobacker with us -like a human bein’!” - -“You’ve asked me some pretty tough questions,” said the lawyer, -dismissing his jocularity. He leaned the shiny shoulders of his -threadbare frock coat against the clapboards, careless of the white -smooches that were immediately transferred to the cloth. “Now, as to -the casting of a mist by the old chaps we have heard of in this section, -I’ll say that perhaps they had the same power as some of the Hindoos -that travellers describe. Men whose words ought to be good assert that -to all appearances some of those fellows throw the end of a rope into -the air and climb up and up, and so out of sight.” - -Uncle Buck pronged a mighty chew of tobacco out of the side of his jaw -with his tongue and tossed it afar into the milkweed stalks that grew -beside the horse shed. He snorted his unbelief. - -“You might just as soon tell me,” he declared, “as how that quid o’ mine -could turn into a royal Bengal tiger and come roarin’ back here to chaw -me up.” - -“I wisht a plug o’ tobacker would chase you once,” declared Amazeen. -“P’raps you wouldn’t be borrowin’ so much of it all the time if you got -one good scare.” - -Squire Phin was evidently about to explain to his fellow townsmen more -explicitly regarding the mysteries of the East, as related by veracious -investigators, when he was interrupted by the cause of all the argument. - -“Hard-Times” Wharff suddenly came down upon both feet, put his hand to -his brow, peered up the highway where it snaked into the distant spruce -growth, and cried in a very human tone of rural astonishment: - -“Well, dod-butter doughnuts, holes and all, ’tain’t no wonder the -crows kept a-flyin’! Hard times is a-comin’ to town a-ridin’ on a pony. -Come here and see ’em!” - -Led by Babb, striding on legs that worked like calipers, the old men -flocked around the corner of the store into the sunshine, each uttering -his own characteristic note of astonishment as he swung into view of the -road. - -Squire Phin leisurely followed. But the spectacle in the highway was -sufficient to make him stare at the approaching procession with surprise -that almost equalled the emotion of his more naïve townsmen. - - - - -CHAPTER II--“HIME” LOOK’S HOMECOMING WITH AN ELEPHANT - -AND TROUBLE AND A FEW OTHER THINGS - - - - “Go ask your mother for fifteen cents - - To see the elephant jump the fence, - - He jumps so high that he’ll hit the sky, - - And he won’t come down till the Fourth of July.” - - -A GRIMY, wrinkled and slouchy elephant, pudging ahead and straining at -his rusty harness, followed by eight horses plodding two and two, was -drawing a train of vehicles whose outlines were almost hidden by the -dust cloud rolling up from under the scuffing hoofs. Through puffs of -dust, glass surfaces sparkled dully, and there was an occasional glint -of gilt. The leading waggon could be more plainly seen. - -“It’s a reg’lar circus cart,” said Brickett, wonderingly. - -They all perceived that the shape of the waggon’s body was the -simulacrum of a large caravel whose bow and stern rose high in the air. - -There was a gilded, life-size female figure at the bow and a companion -figure at the stern. The only man in sight was perched on a high seat -let into the fore part of the waggon, the converging lines of the bow -meeting just above his head. - -“But there ain’t been no circus advertised ’round here,” cried Uncle -Lysimachus Buck, as he stared. - -The strange train of vehicles swung wide at the head of the cove to -cross the creek bridge. - -“There’s six of ’em,” commented Amazeen, as the waggons presented -their broadsides, “and it’s a circus, dummed if ’tain’t.” - -One waggon was fastened behind another. Three vans with huge mirrors -in the sides were following the big boat-waggon in the lead; the fifth -vehicle had a circular body scalloped like a sea shell, and a painted -figure held a canopy over it; sixth and last trundled a little red cart -of the kind made familiar by circus chariot races. - -The driver of this strange outfit guided his dripping horses and the -huge piloter across the bridge. He cracked a big whip over them, and -they came up the short rise toward Brickett’s store, gallantly surging -to the work, the faded bridle pompons nodding above the horses’ heads, -the dust swirling behind. The elephant shuffled briskly, ragged ears -flapping and trunk swaying. - -The breeze on top of the hill volleyed the dust back on the procession, -and when the driver pulled up in the little square with a mighty bellow -of “Whoa!” he and his outfit were almost invisible. As the white cloud -settled away and revealed the waggons the little group on Brickett’s -platform stared open-mouthed at every feature. The gilding was dingy, -the paint blistered and cracked, the mirrors streaked and grimy, but the -elephant and the chariots and the circus glamour were all there. - -The man who sat on the high seat wore a dusty tall hat, cocked back so -far as to almost rest on his neck. A linen duster was buttoned -closely under his gray whiskers--prolongations of his bristling -moustache--descending in two trailing streams and framing a smoothly -shaved chin. This elderly stranger set his elbows on his knees, the -reins hanging loosely, leaned forward and leisurely surveyed the group -on the platform. One eye was set and immovable--a glass eye. The other -roved and twinkled and shuttled and blinked in lively style. - -“Let’s see,” he began, a keen glint in his movable eye, “isn’t there a -cheap lawyer in this place named Phineas Look?” - -The movable eye fell upon Squire Phin. It glittered for an instant more -brightly. The muscles of the hard face seemed to twitch a little. But he -said no more, and with a curious intentness awaited a reply. - -The Squire had started at the sound of the stranger’s voice. Then he -shoved his hands deep into his trousers pockets and stared hard at the -man, his brows knotting slowly, as though he were endeavouring to recall -something. - -“I don’t know who you be, nor where you come from, nor I don’t care,” - snapped Amazeen; “but I want to say to you, mister, that you’d better -call the leadin’ man in P’lermo by a different name, ’specially when -he’s standin’ here in hearin’!” He shook an indignant cane at the man -and swung and pointed it at Phineas. - -At this instant a raucous voice squalled a long, loud “Yah-h-h!” A cage -was hung to one of the figures of the big waggon, whose seats showed a -former use as a band chariot. A ragged, gray parrot was in the cage. He -clutched a bar in his warty claws, rapped his bill violently and yelled: - -“Crack ’em down, gents! It’s the old army game!” - -The Squire took a quick step forward, halted and stared again. - -“Twenty can play as well as one!” the parrot squawked. The stranger -began to clamber down from the seat and stood revealed as a tall man -when he stood upright. The knots smoothed out of the Squire’s brow. - -The two men walked slowly toward one another, each with hand -outstretched, and they met half way. Hand clutched hand in a grip -that made the cords ridge the skin. They gazed for a long time with -moistening eyes. - -“Hime!” choked out the Squire. - -“You poor little cuss, Phin,” the other gulped, as he reached his arm -over the Squire’s shoulder and patted his back. - -There was rough affection in the gesture, but there was constraint in -the stranger’s mien. He displayed the nervous bravado of one who is -ashamed and feels that the shame is a weakness. - -“I ain’t come home expectin’ that you’re goin’ to treat me anyways like -a brother, Phin,” he muttered brokenly. “I ain’t ever been any good to -the family. I----” - -“Don’t say that, brother Hiram! Don’t!” pleaded the Squire. - -“But it’s the God’s truth, Phin. I don’t even know whether -father’s--whether he’s----” He stood back and raised entreating eyes -to his brother’s face. “You needn’t say it, Phin, boy,” he went on -mournfully. “All I can do is thank God that father had one boy that he -didn’t have to be ashamed of. I don’t ask you to overlook it--any of it, -Phin. I don’t expect you to do it. I ain’t come back for it.” - -The old men had been slowly straggling down from the platform, still -busied with their survey of this amazing new arrival. - -The Squire glanced around at them and spoke guardedly. His tone was -gently reproachful. - -“Not a word from you or of you for twenty-five years! Hime, I never -understood that. Father didn’t understand it!” - -“Understand it!” shouted his brother, careless of the throng. -“Understand it! Of course you can’t. No man with decency in his soul and -honesty in his heart could understand it. I tell ye, Phin, I ain’t worth -your while to talk to, I had a little hopes of myself, Phin, a few weeks -ago. It came over me all of a sudden. I’ve come back to square one end -of it.” He glared at the men who were crowding around them. “But our -family end, Phin, can never be squared. I’ve travelled five hundred -miles in the sun and dust to pay my honest debts. That much I can do. -Then for the road again.” He tossed a pathetic gesture at the elephant -and the vans. “I did think of sellin’ ’em along with the rest I sold,” - he added wistfully. “I had thought perhaps--I didn’t know, but--well, -Phin, it’s better to go on, that’s all.” Here and there from gardens, -from little shops and from the houses near by, men were issuing; the -cobbler with his canvas apron tucked up, the blacksmith spatting his -smutty hands together, and the men who had forgotten to lay down their -hoes. All were shouting questions to each other and pointing at the -procession that had come to town. - -The Squire eyed the approach of these spectators with some uneasiness, -but the glance he turned on his brother was full of kindly emotion. He -went along and patted Hiram on his broad back. - -“There’ll be plenty of time for us to talk it all over, Hime,” he -murmured. “I know I shall understand. Let’s go home. I’m still in the -old house.” Then with the New England ability to repress emotion he -stood back and ran his eye over his brother. - -“Well, you certainly aren’t ‘Bean-Pole Look’ any longer,” he cried in -his usual cheery tones, loud enough for all to hear. - -“And you’ve stocked up yourself, Phin,” returned his brother, with a -rather watery smile. “The Looks usually get pussy after forty.” - -Uncle Buck was the first of the crowd to stick out his hand. - -“I’d know you anywhere for Hime Look, in spite of your plug hat and your -weepin’ wilier whiskers,” he cried brusquely. “You ain’t been what -you’d exactly call neighbourly last twenty or twenty-five years,” he -suggested, with a meaning cock of his eyebrow. - -“I didn’t ask permission of the Palermo Tobacker Chawin’ League to go -away, and I ain’t asking its permission to come back!” retorted Hiram, -bridling. - -“Still got your meat-axe temper along, I notice,” said Buck, drily. - -“See here,” shouted the new arrival, “we won’t start into any of those -old rows, good people.” - -He assumed the tone of the showman “barking” at the door of a tent, as -though the habit of long years obsessed him. Apparently he could not -talk to several persons in any other tone. The throng crowding about him -suggested all his usual environment. “Best to have our general wind-up -at the start-off,” he declared, running his eye over them; “we’ll drive -every tent peg right now. Here I am home again from the wide, wide -world, and it’s no one’s business except mine why I’ve come. I own this -gear,” a flourish of his hand toward the waggons and the reeking horses, -“and why I’ve brought ’em here is my own business, too. Ask me no -questions and I’ll tell you no lies. You needn’t blink and scowl at -me--any of you. I ain’t proud of the way I left this town, but I want to -have an understanding here and now. It’s this: The man who proposes to -remind me of my going away or my staying away will get what I gave Klebe -Willard, and I hope it wasn’t too long ago for you to remember it, one -and all.” He clenched his fist and shook it at them. “Yes, I’m just the -same old Hime Look, rough and bluff and gruff and tough! No one likes -me, and probably no one ever will, and I don’t care! But I can pay my -bills.” He rapped this at them, adding an oath like a whipcrack. - -A murmur that was almost a growl ran among his listeners, who now -numbered a score. “Yes, I did slide out and leave my debts, and I held -this town up good and hard, hey? Well, I ain’t crawling back on my hands -and knees to you, good people; I’ve come with the goods.” He ripped -open his duster and, twisting his tall form and screwing his mouth as he -tussled at the job, he pulled a big wallet from under his coat tails--a -wallet so fat, so puffy, so rotund that it seemed fairly to groan at its -strap and puff with plethora. - -The Squire gently seized his brother by the arm, endeavouring to say -something to him in an undertone. But that over-wrought person wrenched -away and shouted, as he waved his wallet above his head: “No, Phin, -it aint no use to hush-baby me. I’ve got to say it to ’em. I’ve -been thinking of it too long. It’s boilin’ in me. I always was too -mouthy--I’m too mouthy now, and I know it, but I can’t help it. I’m -just Hime Look, and I have to talk or bust. They’ve had their chance to -lambaste me for twenty-five years behind my back. Now I’m going to talk -to their faces.” - -Excitedly he tore open the wallet. Packets of bills stuffed every -compartment--packets tied with bands and squeezed flat. - -With his wallet clutched in one hand and as many of the packets as -he could grip with the other, he went around the little circle of -bystanders, flapping the ends of the bills under their dodging noses. - -“Smell of it!” he roared. “Don’t it smell good? Look at it! Don’t it -look good? If you could eat it, ’twould taste good, you old droolers! -Did you ever see so much money before in Palermo? No, you never did. -Now, all you that have a claim against me of any kind, meet me at my -brother’s office any time after to-day, with your interest figured -compound at six per cent. No; reckon it better’n that--and even then -I’ll give you a bonus on top. You’ll never be able to sneer again behind -Hime Look’s back, you of Palermo. Bring your claims, good people!” - -“It’s the old army game, gents!” screamed the gray parrot. - -Again the Squire tried anxiously to lead his brother away out of the -circle. Perspiration dripped from under the showman’s tall hat. His -sound eye blazed. - -The other goggled fiercely. It was the anger of a man who was raging -as much at himself and at the memory of mistakes and faults as at his -auditors, the anger of a man who knew in his own heart that he was not -as worthy as these yokels whom he had left behind him in the old home. -He wanted to storm down the criticism and the blame that he feared--to -scare them into silence. Under it all was shame--the shame of a -domineering man who is ashamed to feel shame. - -“Hime,” pleaded his brother, “let’s not talk this over in public any -longer. The people of Palermo are all good friends of ours. They haven’t -been talking about you.” - -“No, they haven’t talked about you--that’s right,” shrilled Uncle Buck, -who had advanced closely. “No, they’ve thought you was dead--and dead -men of your calibre ain’t worth much talkin’ about.” - -Hiram whirled away from his brother’s restraint and glowered at the -doughty old man. - -“I ain’t one mite afraid of you, Hime,” barked Lysimachus, thumping down -his cane. “This is the same stick I’ve put across you when I ketched you -stealin’ my apples, and if you tackle me I’ll slash you again, though -you was grown taller’n Haman.” - -He came close to the furious man. - -“You might’s well shet up your wallet,” he said; “P’lermo ain’t -sufferin’ for your money, much of it as you seem to have.” - -“That money won’t be put up till my debts are paid,” shouted Hiram. -The old man’s fishy eye bored him with a significance he could not -understand. It was evident that Lysimachus had a trump card. - -“You can’t pay, dum ye!” shrieked Uncle Buck, now furious in his turn, -with the hysterical rage of the senile. - -“Why can’t I?” This also was bawled. - -“Because your old father mortgaged his farm after you run away, and then -after he died your brother Phin worked and paid off every cent that was -owed.” - -“Twenty can play as well as one!” said the gray parrot. - -Hiram, both hands still full of money, rubbed his forearm across his -eyes, into which sweat was streaming. His movement knocked off his hat, -and it rolled unheeded in the dust. Pitiful bewilderment wrinkled his -face. - -“And if you’ve never heard of all that, then you can’t have been any -decenter about writin’ home and lettin’ your own know about you than you -have been about other things I could name.” - -Hiram stood, his arms hanging at his side, his lower jaw drooping, his -eye shuttling from face to face evasively. - -“Kind o’ makes you drop your tail, Hime--that, eh?” jeered Amazeen from -his place in the crowd. - -As Hiram still drooped there, Uncle Buck ran his cane into the fallen -hat, lifted it with a deft toss, ran his elbow around its nap, and set -it on Hiram’s head, standing on tip-toe to do it. - -The man never moved or blinked. - -“There’s your plug hat, Hime,” he said. “It fell off, and pride goeth -before a fall.” - -At the anti-climax the crowd haw-hawed with the jovial unrestraint of -rural jokers. - -The Squire’s face was very grave. He came along, gently took the -wallet and the money from his brother’s hands, tucked the packets away, -restrapped the wallet and stuffed it back into the hip pocket. Hiram -still remained motionless, except for the blinking eye that now looked -straight at the ground. - -Phineas turned to his townsmen: - -“Folks,” he said, “I don’t think my brother Hime meant all he said. He -was excited and wrought up by coming home, and it was a hard place to -put any man in, to meet the old townsmen again as he has had to do. But -you see he has come back bringing the money to pay, and I know you are -going to give him the credit of his good intentions. We will talk it -over some time later, friends. Now I want you to come along home with -me, Hime.” - -He pushed his brother along toward the big waggon. - -“And you done what old Lys says you done?” asked the elder brother -suddenly. There was a queer indrawing of the breath after the query. The -Squire did not reply. - -“God, I ain’t fit for phosphate!” blurted the showman despairingly. -“Shame and pride and my dirty disposition--and not writin’--nor nothin,’ -thinkin’ you had soured on me--and lettin’ you and dad--oh, Phin, you -poor little cuss!” - -Down over the hard face that had cynically fronted the world for twenty -years from the barker’s rostrum, into the trailing whiskers filtered the -tears. This middle-aged, solid, lawyer brother had not as yet assumed -his proper perspective in the mind of his elder brother, who had left -him a stripling. Hiram did not try to hide his grief from those who -stared at him. - -“Ain’t I a specimen!” he whimpered. - -“I think you are beginnin’ to improve _some_,” said Uncle Buck, bluntly. - -“Your wife won’t want to see me,” moaned Hiram. “I ain’t fit to meet -her.” - -The crowd laughed anew, for this seemed the best joke of all. The lawyer -smiled, but it was a wistful smile. - -“I’m the pickedest old bach in town, so set that I even do my own -cooking, Hime,” he said. “It is all about the same as it used to be -at the old place. There’s plenty of room in the barn for all this,” he -nodded toward the waggons, “and plenty to eat for us all--I guess,” he -added, with a facetious look at the elephant, and that started the laugh -again. - -Hiram turned to the crowd as though to address them, but he clutched -at his throat, shook his head pathetically, and stumbled toward the big -waggon. - -“You ain’t the worst feller in the world, Hime,” called a voice -encouragingly. ’Twas Marriner Amazeen’s. “But you can’t sass us here -in P’lermo any more’n you useter could.” - -There was a general mumble, in a more hospitable tone, for the -prodigal’s evident contrition had touched them. He threw up his hand and -again shook his head despondently. - -“It’s a blamed queer outfit to haul into any man’s door-yard, Phin,” he -said at last, with wistful apology, as he noticed his brother looking at -the elephant with no very eager enthusiasm; “but I’ll fix it right with -you.” - -He did not remount his seat, but secured a hook from under the big -waggon, walked to the elephant and stuck the hook into a slit in the -beast’s ragged ear. With a creak and a groan the parade started, the -weary horses dragging at the heels of the scuffing pachyderm. Chattering -boys spatted along barefoot in the dusty road before, beside, behind; -the villagers attended along the sidewalk, and women stood at front -gates holding up the little ones to see. - -The Squire plodded at his brother’s side, his hands behind his back, and -Eli waddled near with cautious eye bent on the huge animal. - -And thus, after twenty-five years of wandering, returned Palermo’s queer -genius, hot-headed Hiram Look, a showman from the time he took pins for -admission from his schoolfellows at the door of a tent made of shorts’ -sacks, and that was when he wore dresses and had his flaxen hair combed -in a “Boston.” - -A little way beyond Brickett’s store the elms grew close and tall, -stretching their graceful arms across the street. Back from these elms -on a gentle slope of lawn stood the Judge Collamore Willard house, the -mansion of the village, a square structure of brick, dyed by many years -of weather to a sombre red. - -The inmates of this dignified house evidently had been affected by -the general excitement caused by the halt of the caravan in front of -Brickett’s store. - -A tall, gaunt old man, whose frock coat flapped about his skinny legs, -hurried down the gravelled path to the street, and as the head of the -parade approached he opened the iron gate and came out to the side of -the highway. - -“What’s all this?” he piped in falsetto, addressing one of the villagers -who were marching along the sidewalk. - -“Hime Look’s come back and brought his circus,” said the passer. The old -man started, and his thin lips closed viciously. - -As the showman’s eyes fell upon the old man his face also grew set and -hard. - -“Ain’t old Coll Willard gone to be a moneychanger in hell yet?” he -snarled. - -The Squire was looking toward the house and did not answer. A woman -stood on the front porch, gazing under her palm. Even from the road the -grace of her figure showed itself. The soft, light material that drooped -away from her upraised arm left its rounded contour and whiteness -outlined against the dark hair. - -“Hiram Look!” echoed the old man, and he came straight into the middle -of the road and stood there, trying to hold himself erect, propping his -hand on his back at the waist. He made no move to step aside, and the -showman was forced to halt his animals. - -“And so it’s Hiram Look come home again?” he rasped, his thin nostrils -fluttering. “And how is it he comes parading, instead of sneaking over -the back fences as he ought?” He was talking over the showman’s head to -the villagers. - -The spirit of assertion seemed to have dropped from Hiram. He shook so -violently that he set his hand against the elephant to steady himself. - -“Judge!” The Squire advanced close to the old man and spoke low. “My -brother is considerably unstrung by things that have just happened. -Don’t say anything to him now, please don’t! If something must be said -later about the old times there’ll be plenty of chance to say it. Wait!” - His tone was mild and entreating, but Willard still disdained to glance -at him. - -“If some one hasn’t told Hiram Look what Palermo thinks of him, it’s -time for it to be done, townsmen!” shrieked Willard, his face white, his -lips drawn back over some obtrusive false teeth. - -The Squire turned toward the distant figure on the porch, appeal and -apology in his eyes, though he realised that she could not witness his -emotions. - -“Better for you to have stayed with the husks and the swine, Hiram Look. -You thought you left him for dead, my boy Kleber. Don’t you tell me! You -wanted to kill him. My poor boy! To leave me in my old age without my -son! And the scar of it on his face to-day! There’s a law for you yet, -Hiram Look--a law to make you suffer for that scar. A pretty pair--yes, -a pretty pair! Old Seth Look’s pair of steers! And Hiram would have -robbed my boy of a wife, and Phin Look thought he could steal my -daughter. Now, I’ll tell you both----” - -“No, you won’t tell us--not here in the face and eyes of every one -in Palermo!” roared Hiram. “I’m ready for your tongue and your law at -fittin’ time and place, Coll Willard, but this ain’t the time. I told -your son twenty-five years ago that there was such a thing as talking -too damn much--and he still talked. Don’t you do it to-day.” - -“Do you want to put your mark on the father’s face?” the old man -shrieked, hobbling close and poking forward his weasened visage. “Strike -me! Kill me! It’s your style, Hiram Look. And it’s your brother’s style -to lallygag after a girl that wouldn’t use him for a doormat. The two of -you are----” - -The showman could restrain himself no longer. He had stood with feet -apart as though to root himself in the ground. His hands were hooked -behind him. - -He hadn’t lost the whole of that Palermo instinct of deference toward -the village plutocrat and autocrat who had dominated them all for so -many years, even as other Willards had ruled before him. But the choler -that drove him forward was the rage of a man who had never learned -self-control. His brother leaped to prevent him, but he seized the old -man, whipped him off the ground, rushed across the sidewalk and tossed -him over the iron fence upon his own lawn, where he lay squawking feebly -like a frightened fowl. - -The Squire followed, gasping appealing protest, and he stood there -clutching the rusty points of the fence when the woman came hastening -from the porch. - -“I don’t think the Judge is’ hurt a bit, Sylvena,” he faltered. “But he -provoked Hime’s awful temper, and I couldn’t stop it.” - -Judge Willard had scrambled to his feet, snarling at her when she came -to aid him. His rage was now the hysteria of the aged, but after gasping -wordlessly he turned and went toward the house. Hiram, his head bowed -as though he were ashamed of his burst of rage, had started his caravan, -and the crowd followed. Squire Phin remained. - -The woman across the fence was mature, yet she had that appearance of -freshness that spinsterhood under forty years preserves in the little -details. Her face had been flushed by her haste, and the colour crept up -to the dark hair, that had just a touch of frost at the temples. - -“And it is your brother come home, Phineas?” she asked, gazing after the -picturesque spectacle. - -“It is Hiram.” His tone was wistful. - -“He seems to be fully as--as muscular as ever,” she said, with a little -flash of her eyes. - -As he seemed searching his mind for suitable apology, she said hastily: - -“And I also know what father is, Phineas. I can understand. It is -nothing that you have done. But it all seems to be beginning over again, -and I hoped it was ended.” - -“I guess it’s like the fire in old Ward’s peat bog,” he replied, a -wrinkle of humour about his eyes. “It has been burning for twenty years -underground and breaks out every little while. I can sympathise with -Ward’s peat bog,” he added. “Every now and then, when I think it’s cold -and dead and stamped out--my own particular smoulder, you know--there’s -a breath of remembrance, when I see you, and I’m all afire again inside. -Hard case, isn’t it?” - -He didn’t allow his tone to be too serious. - -“It isn’t well to speak of such things, Phineas. And not in that way! -Somehow, it hasn’t come right for you and me. We mustn’t blame each -other. It hasn’t seemed to be our fault.” She cast a glance at the -waggons toiling up the street. He gazed at the old man, who had paused -half way across the lawn and was querulously shouting “Daughter!” - -The Squire leaned a bit further over the fence. - -“I guess it has been ten years, Sylvena,” he said, “since I’ve let you -see my fire break through the crust. I didn’t intend to let it show -again, for I know your heart is tender. I don’t blame you for feeling -that a daughter owes much to a widowed father. I’d be the last to break -up a family. I haven’t any right to blame you. Don’t worry about me, -ever. But I can’t seem to forget, and while I keep on loving you I am -having an awfully good time all by myself doing so.” - -With frank impulsiveness the woman came close to the fence and patted -his big hand that clutched the iron paling. But this frankness in her -action, her demeanour, and in the free and honest gaze she gave him, did -not console him. - -“Still you’re ‘Sleeping Beauty,’ Sylvena,” he said, half whimsically, -half bitterly. - -The old man had returned part way down the broad lawn, and was yelping -“Daughter!” in his thin voice with increasing impatience. - -She smiled at the Squire as though the jest of his last words were one -well understood between them. - -“No, only an old maid, Phineas,” she replied, softly. “Sometimes I think -that old maids are like poets--born, not made.” - -“But you’ve let ’em make _you_ one,” he retorted. “It isn’t often I -speak of it, Sylvena. You know that. It has been enough for me to -walk the same streets with you and have a smile and a word of -friendliness---it’s enough most of the time. But my heart has been -stirred to-day, and all the old feelings are on top. You have let that -stingy old man----” he shook his fist at the Judge, who returned this -salute with great spirit, “rob you of the best that a woman ought to -have--and that’s a home and a good husband. Oh, I am not speaking of -myself!” he cried, his colour coming and a sort of boyish embarrassment -overwhelming him. “I don’t know how to say such things very well, but -I didn’t mean myself. I never could wake ‘Sleeping Beauty.’ But if the -prince himself had come along your father would have driven him away so -that he could continue to monopolise your loyalty and devotion. The -only reason he wants you to marry King Bradish is because he knows that -Bradish will sit outside like a pup and wait until he opens the door.” - -The Squire was thoroughly angry. The spectacle of the old man hobbling -down the lawn and calling at them as though they were offending children -exasperated him. - -“Forgive me, Sylvena,” he choked, breaking in upon her pained and -somewhat indignant protest. “But, being a Look, I am pretty much human. -You can’t stop me from loving you. God knows I can’t stop myself. I’d -like to be able to put out my hand and say to you ‘Sister!’ and look at -you as you look at me, but I can’t do it!” - -“From the time I was fifteen years old, Phineas,” she said wistfully, “I -was mother to my mother!” A picture of the frail paralytic in her wheel -chair rose before him. “I took her place in our home when she died--yes, -before she died. It is a sacred promise that a girl makes to a mother, -Phineas, when that mother, helpless as an infant, trusts her, believes -her and goes smiling down into the grave, securely depending on that -promise.” - -The Judge was close upon them. - -“I didn’t hardly expect you to marry me, Sylvena,” said the Squire, -gazing gloomily at the old man. - -“I’ve never dared to think much about marrying any one,” she said, her -eyes straying to the caravan in its halo of dust. “Somehow, it hasn’t -seemed to come right.” - -“Some day there’ll be a man come along and you’ll know what it means to -be willing to give up every other thing in this world and not be able to -think about letting any one else step between you, and as it will have -to be a mighty good man to make you feel that way, I’ll step up then and -give you the best word I have, Sylvena, and perhaps I can begin to feel -like a brother toward you. I’m generous enough to pray God that you may -feel that way sometime.” - -“No wonder you’re trying to beg off your brother, Phineas Look,” - shrilled the Judge, interposing himself between them. He had caught a -word of the Squire’s speech as he came up. “But you can’t do it! The -law is going to take him. I’ll see that it does.” He whirled on his -daughter. “Why do you stand here talking with this man when you know -what he and his tribe are and how they have always treated us?” - -She had taken his arm and was trying to lead him away, aware of the -futility of argument or even reply. - -“You can’t come around this family, Phin Look,” stormed the Judge, “by -wheedling a girl who hasn’t had self-respect enough to spit on----” - -“Judge Willard!” The voice of the Squire was so tense, so pregnant, that -the old man stopped and looked at him. The lawyer was clutching a paling -in each hand. He had projected his face over the fence. He was grayish -white, and his eyes glowed under their knotted brows. “Don’t you discuss -the honest and faithful friendship there is between your daughter and -myself. Do you understand me?” The old man looked at him, “plipping” his -lips as though searching for a reply. - -“You have hogged the best out of her life. You have stood between her -and some man’s honest affection. I want you to know that I hate every -ounce of your stingy old skin and bones. I----” but he checked himself -and turned to the daughter with an appealing smile breaking through the -white rigidity of his countenance. “Oh! Oh! Oh!” he murmured, with a wag -of his head for each exclamation. “What a savage old whelp it is that’s -barking over your fence, Sylvena. Forgive me again.” - -He turned hastily and went up the street, following the caravan. Old -Eli, who had been patiently waiting on the sidewalk’s edge, fell in at -his master’s heels. - -And before him was Hiram guiding the grotesque elephant between the -great silver poplars before Squire Phin’s lonely home. - - - - -CHAPTER III--FROM THE MOUTH OF MARRINER AMAZEEN - - - “Narrer to the heel and wide to the toe, - - And that’s the way the Look boys go. - - Good boy Phin, he don’t raise time, - - But pepper-sass’s hot and hell’s in Hime.” - - --Old Palermo “Plaguin’ Song.’’ - - -When Marriner Amazeen plodded down street early next morning, he -found Uncle Lysimachus Buck perched in solitary and surly state on the -platform of Brickett’s store. A thick-foliaged maple tree shielded the -platform as long as the sun was low in the east, and the platform was -a desirable post of observation, since it commanded the Cove and the -fishing fleet, as well as the village square. - -“You’ve been el’phunteerin’, hey, along with the rest of the fools in -the place?” sneered Uncle Buck as Amazeen grunted down beside him on the -platform. - -“Well, I called in to see how Hime had got settled, if that’s what your -slur means,” retorted Amazeen with some resentment. - -Silence fell upon them for a time. - -“Where’s he put old Cabbage-leaf-ear?” asked Uncle Lysimachus at last. - -“None of your dum bus’ness. Go see!” - -The silence endured longer. - -“I didn’t mean nothin’ to rasp your feelin’s, ‘Mad’!” his old friend -apologised at last. “All is, I pus’nally don’t want to go peekin’ so -like sin and Sancho, same’s the people in this place us’ly do when -anything comes to town that ain’t cut and dried. I’d really like -to know, though, how things is gittin’ squared ’round up to the -Squire’s.” - -Amazeen remained sullenly silent, but his desire to gossip conquered his -spleen at last. - -“Wals’r, Lys, it’s wuth your goin’ up,” he broke out with a chuckle. -“That el’phunt’s loomin’ up in the middle of the barn floor with her -hind leg hitched to a sill beam; them chariot carts is in the yard, the -hosses fillin’ the stalls and the tie-up, folks standin’ ’round askin’ -questions, and every durn young one in town rampagin’ ’round there! -I should think it would drive the Squire out of his mind--him that has -allus lived old bach and nothin’ to bother. It has set that old mare of -his into spasms. He had to hitch her off in the woodshed, and there she -stands with her head and tail up and snortin’ and whickerin’ ev’ry -time she thinks of how that el’phunt looked when they was introduced. -El’phunt’s name, by the way, is Imogene! Don’t that beat you? Imogene! -So Hime said this mornin’. Told us she was a real pet, and he brought -her along ’cause she would take on so if he tried to shake her. He’s -had her clos’ on fifteen years, he says. Sold her when he bust up his -show, but she swatted ’round her with her trunk, Hime says, and stove -down bars and bellered Hail Columby and pulled up stakes and got away -and follered him. Hime says Imogene is the only one in the world that -ever has given a continental cuss for him and stuck to him, and he says -that him and her will allus stick to one another after this. Says he’s -li’ble to start out circussin’ ag’in.” - -“I s’pose the whole neighbourhood’s standin’ ‘round, listenin’ to them -yarns, heh?” grumbled Uncle Buck. - -“Well, it’s all interestin’ to hear,” declared Ama-zeen sturdily. “And -he ain’t nobody’s fool, Hime ain’t.” - -“It looks to me,” Uncle Lys growled on, “as though Squire Phin had got -more’n one el’phunt on his hands. Here’s Hime a-traipsin’ back home with -that gor-rammed turn-out, and before he’s been here no time he sasses -the whole town of Palermo, throws Judge Willard over his own fence and -tears ’round gen’rally. Here’s the old row between the fam’lies busted -out ag’in, and prob’ly more to happen when Klebe Willard gits home and -hears of it.” - -“Don’t you reckon that Klebe has got fully as many of Hime Look’s marks -on him now as he wants to carry?” inquired Amazeen, drily. - -“Klebe Willard, cap’n of the ‘Lycurgus Webb,’ turned forty-five, and -muscled up from knockin’ down P. I. sailors, ain’t exactly the same -feller he was when Hime Look scolloped him off twenty-five years ago,” - Amazeen retorted. “I tell you, Lys, you’re going to find out that -old ‘Hard-Times’ wasn’t snuffin’ at no pansy bed when he stood there -yesterday with his nose up. He was smellin’ trouble.” - -Brickett had lounged out of the store and stood munching a sliver -of cheese that he had scraped from the broad knife after serving a -customer. - -“That old fool is gittin’ to be a town nuisance,” he observed. “When I -came down this mornin’ he was standin’ across from Judge Willard’s house -like a setter dog opposite a fox hole, croakin’ ‘Hard times a-comin’ -to P’lermo.’ I don’t reckon that hard times is goin’ to start from Coll -Willard’s place. Leastways, if I was as well fixed as the old Judge is -I shouldn’t be reckonin’ to see hard times roostin’ on my primises just -yit awhile.” - -“You ain’t alius lived in P’lermo same’s me and Lys has, Brickett,” said -Amazeen. “I don’t know what kind of things is goin’ to happen or what -kind of a hard-times bird has come to nest on Coll Willard’s place, but -it don’t take no seventh sense to smell trouble in this town now. Hime -Look will make it without meanin’ to. He ain’t nat’rally a bad man, -Hime ain’t. It’s his cussed tongue and the freaks he takes. Ev’ry one -’round him keeps gittin’ all stirred up. Long ago’s he went to the -district school he had all the girls in fidgits about the snakes and -frogs he lugged in his pants pockets--wa’n’t happy without a menagerie. - -“Run away with circuses three times and old man Look had to chase him -up and bring him home. Started off once with a shelter-tent and a angle -worm in a mustard bottle and followed the fairs ’round in counties -above here. Wa’n’t scarcely eighteen then, but he had more cheek than -a Guinea nigger. Folks would listen to him shoutin’ up that ‘infant -anaconda’---that’s what he called the angle-worm--and would pay ten -cents and go in and then would come out mad as they could stick. Most -of the time he was able to keep hollerin’ so loud that no one could hear -them complainin’. He’d say: ‘The gentleman who has jest come out of -the tent states that under this canvas is the grandest sight that the -civilised world has got to offer. He advises his friends to pass in, one -and all, and behold the only infant anaconda in captivity.’ It certainly -did take cheek to run that show, but he had it.” - -Amazeen went fishing in his pockets for a match. - -“Well, he couldn’t always holler ’em down, could he?” inquired -Brickett, skeptically. “I should have thought that some one would ’a’ -showed him up.” - -The old man chuckled. - -“Oh, once in a while a man would git heard and then Hime would bend down -and ask: - -“‘What’s the matter with you?’ - -“‘Why, he ain’t longer’n your finger,’ the man would yap back. - -“‘Oh, he ain’t big enough? That’s it!’ Hime would say. ‘Well, go right -back in and wait till he grows. ‘There won’t be any extry charge.’ - -“And then the rest of the crowd that always likes to see a man took in -would laugh and Hime would go on cheerful as a cricket. But if he’d had -less cheek he’d have got rid’ on a rail out of ev’ry fair ground.” He -closed down the little “pepper-pot” cover over his pipe bowl. - -“Then there was Hime’s dancin’ turkey,” he went on, apparently enjoying -his recollections hugely. “For two or three years after that he was -’round with a fiddle and turkey and a sheet of tin. He’d put the -turkey on the tin with nettin’ around and set behind and fiddle ‘Speed -the Plough,’ and keep moving a lamp back and forth under that tin with -his toe, and the old gobbler would have to tip-toe Nancy mighty lively -to hunt for the cool places. Looked like he was jiggin’. I’m knowin’ to -it that he cleaned up sev’ral thousand dollars on that ‘dancin’ turkey,’ -as he called it. - -“All the time his father couldn’t do nothin’ with him! Kind of a -good-meanin’ chap, Hime allus was, though. Lib’ral with his money. Come -easy, went easy. Drove a nice team. Girls all liked him. No girl caught -him, though, till little Myry Austin got into long dresses. Hime was -nigh onto thirty then, and had gone into a general dickerin’ bus’ness -about the same as King Bradish does in town now; sold produce on -commission, you know, and handled farmin’ tools, and so forth. He got to -be real likely them days, and he reelly did think an awful sight of that -Austin girl. It straightened him all out, havin’ her take a likin’ to -him, and ’twas all understood in P’lermo as bein’ settled between -’em. And then what did young Klebe Willard do but come back from -college with a cap on the back of his head ’bout as big as a cooky and -his hair puffed out in front and puttin’ on more airs than a pigeon -on a ridgepole. And havin’ nothin’ else to do he cut out Hime, and Hime -didn’t know it for a long time, ’cause Klebe done his courtin’ on the -sly on account of the old man. And when Hime did find it out--last -one almost in the village, as us’ly happens in them cases, and got the -mitten--well, you talk about goin’ to Tophet at an angle of forty-five -with the track greased! Nothin’ but cards and hoorah-ste’boy, and tryin’ -to make believe he didn’t care. I swanny, ’twas pitiful when you -knowed what was underneath.” - -Amazeen sighed and bored his cane into the soil, his elbows on his -knees. - -“There was excuses for him, most of us knowed that!” volunteered Uncle -Buck. - -“And as though he hadn’t done enough in breakin’ up the -engagement--which wa’n’t no trouble, seein’ that Hime was so much older -and she only kind o’ silly and teetered up by havin’ a dude like Judge -Willard’s boy show her attention--Klebe had to go and sass Hime one -ev’nin’ right here in front of this store---that was when old Bruce -owned it. Hime was pretty well tea-ed up--drinkin’ some, you understand, -along with the rest--and he drove up here, leaned back and looked a long -time at Klebe, who was standin’ on the platform smokin’ a cigarette. ‘I -bought her ev’rything I could think of,’ says Hime, ‘but she had to go -dicker for a poodle-dog and trade herself off, even swap!’ - -“Now with Hime so wrought up and all that, Klebe ought to have passed -along, but he thought he had a tongue-walloper’s license, bein’ Coll -Willard’s boy, and started in and called Hime ev’rything he could lay -tongue to and then pitched into the Look fam’ly, root and branch in -general; called old Look an ignorant clod-hopper, and said that sendin’ -Phin to college was about like tryin’ to gold-plate an Early-Rose -potater. And then he barked right out there in public--bein’ -dizzy-headed by that time, I reckon--that all Myry Austin had cared -about Hime, anyway, was to watch him perform ’round her, same as boys -spit on a stick and throw it into a mill-pond for Towser to fetch back. -And when Hime still set there takin’ it, Klebe was startin’ in on -things that was worse still, when Hime came over his waggon wheel like -a pick’rel after a skip-bait and--well, when ’twas over Klebe Willard -had marks on his face that will always be there. Hime picked him -up--everyone was too scared to mess in--and lugged him on his back to -Judge Willard’s and throwed him over the fence about where he boosted -the old man to-day, and hollered: ‘Here’s something to feed to your -cat!’ Then he came back and got into his team before old Constable -Denslow had got so he could speak. - -“‘I shall have to arrest you, Hime,’ he says, ‘as I reckon you’ve killed -him!’ - -“‘Arrest hell!’ says Hime. ‘I tried to kill him!’ And he slashed old -Denslow across the face with his whip and went out of the village, -hootin’ and gallopin’ his horse, with eighteen hundred or two thousand -dollars owin’ to people ’round here. And since that night Hime Look -ain’t been seen in this village till yesterday, and from what was -dropped by word o’ mouth ’tween him and Phin, it’s pretty plain he -ain’t been heard from by his fam’ly, either.” - -He checked his garrulous narration in order to relight his pipe. - -“It’s been a hard blow for Squire Phin, it all has,” observed Uncle -Buck. “Just finishing college when it happened, and havin’ the record -of bein’ the smartest critter there! He had the chance to go into a big -city law-office, but there was poor old Seth knocked flat’s a flounder, -his name on notes to wholesalers who’d sold to Hime, and feelin’ holden -for all the other debts. - -“Phin done what few boys would do. He come home, put his shoulder to the -wheel and taught school and studied law between-whiles--and, well, we -all know how he’s worked it out.” - -“There was more than the money side of it, too, that he had to face,” - broke in Amazeen. - -“Seems as if I’ve heard hints that he was pretty fierce took in a -certain quarter,” observed Brickett, with a sly look. - -“Lord, I guess there was hints and more, too,” snapped Amazeen. “Why, he -lugged Sylveny Willard’s dinner pail to and from school when they was -so young that neither noticed there was any diff’rence between Seth -Look and Coll Willard. Kind of one of those cases where two young ones -nat’rally took to each other. I was postmaster for a spell and they -wrote reg’lar when he was away to college, till all to once old Coll -knowed about it and realised that Sylveny had got out of the ABC age. He -up and howled blue murder and right on top came the Hime part. Gad, no, -he wouldn’t consider Phin Look for a son-in-law--wa’n’t pedigree enough -to him.” - -Amazeen’s tone was scornful. - -“That’s why he f’it off Klebe marryin’ Myry Austin year after year till -it looked as though they never would git married--and from all I hear -about the way they git along now, I reckon ’twould have been better -all around if the old Judge had f’it harder. Klebe had to break loose -and git a vessel for himself before he dared to buck the old man and -marry her. I don’t believe he really ever wanted her, anyway, but she’s -one o’ them women that’s like a sheet of fly paper--git it on your -fingers and try to pull it off and it keeps stickin’ in a new place. -She’s too pretty to have much head. Ain’t ever had anything to steady -her down, and that keeps Klebe guessin’ and mad a good part of the time -when he’s home.” - -“If I’d have been Phin Look I’d have run away with Sylvena Willard years -ago,” grunted Uncle Lysimachus. “I’ll bet she’d have gone. A dummed old -hog like Coll Willard ain’t got no right to keep two people like them -apart. And more’n that, he’s torchin’ her all the time to marry King. -There ain’t a woman in this village that women-folks in trouble run to -as they do to her, and we all know what Squire Phin is to P’lermo! There -ain’t hardly a family in this town that he ain’t settled a fuss for--not -in courts and by runnin’ up bills of expense, but by kind words and -common-sense and good advice and by gittin’ right inside a critter’s -heart. A man ain’t goin’ to get rich by that way of practisin’ law, -but, by jerro, he’s earnin’ the kind of currency that they say makes -a millionnaire in eternity. He’s the husband Sylvena Willard ought to -have, and, by gad, if I was her I’d have him!” - -“Did you ever stop to think, Lys,” drawled Ama-zeen, “that people who -have things pretty much their own way, without carin’ what other people -want, who tromp over commands, disobey parents, bust into fam’lies -and all that, are pretty apt to be scaly critters? Bein’ as they are, -Sylveny Willard and Phin Look deserve to have each other; but bein’ as -they are, it’s almighty likely they never will. Cuts both ways, you -see! A woman that forgets all her father has done for her and leaves him -alone in his old age and goes away to a man that he is dead ag’inst, has -got the disposition to treat a husband as bad as she has a father. May -not do it, understand--but the disposition is there. Marryin’ and givin’ -in marriage is all right, but fam’ly loyalty is something, too. You want -to remember that Coll Willard probably don’t seem to her the same as he -does to us. A man that busts into a family when he knows he ain’t wanted -may be gritty and in love, and all that, but he’s puttin’ himself and -his pleasure and in-t’rests first, and lettin’ others trail. Phin Look -allus has practised what he preaches to his clients. But it has sartinly -happened bad for him--Hime’s cuttin’ up and all the rest, and it ain’t -lookin’ much better just now.” - -“I had an idea they’d git married sometime,” said Brickett. “You’ll find -that Squire Phin has had some partic’lar mighty good reason for stayin’ -in this little place. He don’t belong here and he never has. A drummer -told me that outside of here he’s called one of the best-read men in the -State. Judges all say that, the drummer told me. He don’t have to stay -here, not by a long shot. Yes, I thought they’d git married some day -when old Coll got through, but I guess this Hime matter comin’ up agin -will bust things forever. Klebe will take it up.” - -“I’ll tell you what I think will happen now,” broke in a tall young man -who had sauntered up and had been listening. - -No one asked any questions. Amazeen bored his cane deeper with indignant -twistings, as he reflected on the situation. - -“I reckon she’ll give in to the Judge at last and marry King Bradish.” - The lounger spoke with tone of conviction. - -Buck and Amazeen slowly turned their heads and stared at each other with -a singular look of mutual intelligence. Amazeen’s lips were set in a -straight line above his bristly brush of short chin beard. There was -a flicker of malice in Uncle Buck’s gray eyes, glittering under their -tufted brows. - -When they had established a thorough understanding by means of a -prolonged stare, they simultaneously struggled to their feet and started -around the store. At the foot of the outside stairway they paused and -looked at each other again. - -“Ain’t nobody else up there with him, is there?” asked Amazeen. - -“No one ain’t gone up sence he opened shop,” replied Buck. “He got down -early.”’ - -“I don’t blame him,” snorted Amazeen. “What with el’phunt and hosses and -hoorah, and yard full and Hime hollerin’ ’round as though he was front -of his show tent, and that ding parrot of his squawkin’, ‘Crack ’em -down, gents; the old army game!’ I reckon the Squire couldn’t git away -any too early. Now-------” he paused, and the two men looked at each -other a long time, wrinkling their brows. - -“If we try to plunk the news about Bradish and ‘Rissy Mayo to him at -the fust-off, he’ll shet us up by yappin’ out that he won’t listen -to slander. He handles ev’rything that’s spicy news just that way,” - observed Buck, dubiously. - -The young man who dropped the remark about Bradish lounged around the -corner and stood eyeing the stairway, incertitude written large on his -vapid countenance. - -Buck, with the air of a conspirator, cautiously reached out his cane and -rapped Amazeen’s foot. When the latter raised his abstracted gaze from -the ground, Buck winked prodigiously and jerked his head sideways. -Amazeen turned and eyed the young man with a shrewd twinkle of -understanding. - -“Son!” he called softly. The young man came along to them. - -“You ain’t ever had that talk o’ yourn with the Squire, have ye?” - -A mournful wag of the head. - -“Wouldn’t you like to have me’n Lys, here, to sort o’ pave the way?” - -The head waggled again in token of reviving interest. - -“Well, you go stand acrost the road and when you see me come to the -winder and toss out my cud o’ terbacker, you boost along up. Me’n Lys -is takin’ a friendly int’rest in the case for you. Now go ’long over -there and watch out.” He pushed the young man away hastily as he began -to stammer thanks. - -“I can’t talk with the dum fool,” he growled through the corner of his -mouth, as he led the way up the stairs. “Fur’s I’m concerned I wisht he -was married to a half dozen jest like the one he’s hitched up with. -But as long’s we’ve got to git this thing to the Squire ’round Robin -Hood’s barn, Mayo’s fool makes a good road-breaker, as you might say. -Now I’ll start in on the Squire as though I was ready mad because he -has married Wat to that girl, and that will bring him up all standin’ to -argue that the marriage is a rousin’ success.” - -“One that King Bradish is tryin’ to mess into and bust up, hey?” - suggested Buck with a knowing leer. - -Amazeen returned the look with just as much significance, thrust his -elbow into Buck’s ribs and started up the stairs. - -“You’re right,” asserted Buck. “The Squire’ll fight other folkses’ -battles before he’ll take up his own--always did, always will, prob’ly. -Now, I reckon if we manage this thing right, King Bradish will get the -wickin’ put to him in good shape.” - -He stopped outside the door of the office and concluded in a husky -whisper: - -“Even if the Squire don’t get her, Lys, let’s fix it so that King -Bradish never will. Sylveny Willard’s too good a girl to be wasted that -way, and if the Judge gits devil-set enough he’s li’ble to drive her -right into it. Now we’ll ste’boy the Squire onto King in spite of -himself.” - -“That critter has rid’ around town with his nose up ‘bout’s long as I -can stand it,” said Amazeen. - -“He’s a stuck-up, blame-fired skunk, that’s what he is,” snapped Buck, -the memory of certain sneers about “Palermo’s mossbacks” burning hotly -with him. - -The conspirators composed their faces and went in. - - - - -CHAPTER IV--SQUIRE PHIN FINDS HYMEN’S TORCH BURNING HIS FINGERS - - - “Old Widder Bugg was a-weanin’ her ca’f, - - Used ha’f for herself and the ca’f had ha’f, - - But he bellered all day and he blatted all night, - - And he hollered for his rations so tough and tight, - - That the widder she fed him one last, square meal, - - And the next he knowed he was peddled for veal. - - Oh, nice little ca’ves that is bein’ weaned, - - Shouldn’t keep blattin’ when the cow’s been dreened.” - - --Effort by “Rhymester” Tuttle. - - -Of the four strap-bottomed “company chairs” in Squire Look’s office, -“three had spavins and the other the blind staggers,” as old Uncle -Lysimachus Buck expressed it. But by dint of balancing on the sound legs -or bracing against the wall at the right angle, or by extreme care in -easing one’s self into a safe position, the loafers who dropped in to -smoke managed to worry along. When the wood box cover was shut down -that made a seat for two. As for clients, when the chairs were occupied -clients were glad to roost on a corner of the big table and rap their -heels with great ease of manner and comfort of person. - -The Squire’s visitors sat down and as promptly lighted their pipes. - -“As I was tellin’ ye, Squire, the other day,” began Marriner Amazeen, -after pausing to quack briskly at his pipe stem to kindle the waning -lire, “I don’t see what in sanup ye was thinkin’ of to torch Watson -Mayo up to marry that hity-tity-flighty little fool for. The minister -wouldn’t marry ’em and you done it, and so of course the Mayos lay -the blame to you.” He made great show of resentment. Buck apparently had -much trouble in refraining from grinning. - -The ’Squire, who had been feeding the stove, dusted his hands smartly -and pudged slowly back to his armchair without replying. He picked up -his pipe, surveyed a match, end to end, preparatory to scratching it, a -quizzical pucker about his mouth. - -“You remember the time Benson Wallace had all his new grading washed -away by the cloudburst, ’Mad’?” - -Amazeen nodded grimly. He did not relish Squire Look’s illustrations. - -“Well, Bens’ came bootin’ down to the office here and wanted me to sue -Deacon Bassett, who had been praying for rain to fill his mill-pond. -Laid the whole damage of the cloudburst to the deacon’s power of -supplication. I don’t have anything to do with these love cloudbursts -around here.” - -“But you encouraged the cussed fools--torch ’em on,” persisted -Amazeen. - -“No, it’s a chap named Hymen that carries the torch, ’Mad’. In Wat’s -case I wasn’t even actuated by a mercenary motive, for he owned up that -he didn’t have the fee, and he hasn’t paid me yet, and he probably never -will.” - -“And them’s the kind of double-hitches you’re throwing the harness -over!” sneered Amazeen. - -“She’s handsomer than the chromo picture on a calendar--you’ve got to -say that about the snippet,” commented Lysimachus Buck, desiring to -provoke the Squire to retort. - -“You’d ought to ’a’ plunked advice right to him not to do it, Squire,” - sputtered Amazeen. “It has raised the devil with him--and he wasn’t none -too bright before. Who knows anything about an industrial school girl -like her? She don’t know nothin’ about herself. I tell you, it’s been a -hard pill for the Mayos to swaller. Their only boy clearin’ out like -he done, leavin’ a good, comf’table home and now only a swipe in Jote -Bradley’s livery stable!” - -The lawyer leaned back in his chair, and, hooking his leg over the arm, -softly scratched the back of the appreciative old dog with dangling boot -toe. - -“Eli, here, has often remarked to me,” he said, squinting up at the -cracked ceiling, the quizzical pucker still at his mouth corners, “that -I let love as a special pleading overrule exceptions right along. - -“I do really suppose I have done a master sight of malicious mischief -in the world by marrying these young critters that are fighting the -old folks and don’t dare to flee to the parsons, and haven’t a single, -reasonable, sensible, _business_ excuse for getting married, except that -they’ve fallen in love themselves instead of waiting and letting the -farms or the fishing schooners be introduced to each other by the old -folks and fall in love. There’s nothing prettier in this world, ’Mad,’ -than a hundred and twenty acre farm sighing with its corn tassels and a -neighbouring farm rippling back an answer with its oat heads, and -both of ’em getting so much in love with one another that it is only -necessary for the young folks to get together and ratify the match and -count the wedding presents.” - -Old Amazeen snorted disgustedly. “There ain’t no more practicality to -you, Squire, than there is to a June bug tryin’ to butt the moon. I tell -ye, proputty has got to be considered first!” - -The Squire still gazed meditatively at the ceiling through the tobacco -smoke. - -“’Mad’,” he said, in that half-jesting tone that many Palermo -literalists characterised as ‘too free and easy for a lawyer,’ -“you’ve loafed here a good deal and I’ve heard you comment on most -of the Palermo vital statistics--births and deaths and marriages. -Now here’s the difference between you and Eli, here. You say, ‘Huh! -’nother brat got along down to So-and-so’s, and only last week she was -rapping out Hungryman’s ratty-too on the bottom of the flour-barrel -with her rolling-pin, trying to dust down enough for another batch of -biscuit!’ But Eli comes in, wags his tail and says to me: ‘Just came -past So-and-so’s and their dog Gyp said to me that he’d slyed in a few -minutes before and kissed the new baby on the cheek with the tip of his -tongue. Said the new baby tickled right out into the funniest little -snicker!’ Gyp said: ‘Old man, we’re all a little short just now, -’count of extra expenses and excitement and all that, you know, or I’d -ask you to have dinner with me in honor of the occasion, but we’re going -to pitch in again in dead earnest, and I’m going to run the dog churn -over to the custom dairy, and, say! for one snicker a day from that baby -I’ll trot my legs off.’” - -“’Mad’, as you say it: ‘A couple more fools married before they had a -shot in their locker.’ And Eli says: ‘I happened to drop in behind that -young Davis couple in the narrow path, and though I wasn’t trying to -listen to secrets, I did hear him say: “Little wife, you aren’t sorry -you married a poor man, are you?”’” - -“All that people want money for,” said she, “is to buy just such -happiness as we possess now. And their money doesn’t buy it, after -all. And we don’t have to say ‘mine’ and ‘your’ about our love. It’s -all--_ours_--and that’s a blessed word.” And then she stood on tiptoe -and pulled his head down--and if I hadn’t run up over the bank then I’d -have deserved to have a tin can tied to my tail.’ - -“’Mad’, you say: ‘Well, old Brown has got done! I hear he wasn’t wuth -much property--hain’t leavin’ much behind.’ And Eli comes in with head -and tail down: ‘It’s the husband of that good, old Missus Brown that’s -dead--the lady that has set out so many plates of grub for me. The plate -wasn’t on the back porch this morning, but I sat there a little while -and I heard some one inside talking low and he said: “There was never -a man in this town who left so many friends when he died. And he left a -memory that’s worth leaving--never a mean act nor a sneaking trick nor a -gouge in a trade! Property? Oh, I don’t know. You never thought of that -when you thought of him. I only know that he used wisely the good things -he found on earth in his reach as he went along, without seeing how much -he could keep away from his neighbours.”’” - -Old man Amazeen rapped out his pipe ashes and looked at the Squire -sullenly. - -“Because I’ve tug-a-lugged all my life and got a little money out at -interest, I s’pose you’re gittin’ in a dig at me, too,” he growled. - -“No, we were talking about young Mayo marrying Damaris Scott,” returned -Phineas, cheerily, “and you were saying, or intimating, that when -two such poor love-sick young critters come to me and want to own the -privilege of walking down life, hand in hand and heart to heart, I ought -first to inventory their property and their prospects.” - -The waver in his voice, the depth of his significance was lost on the -old man. - -“He gave up a good home, and where did they live the first month after -they were married?” Amazeen struck his hand on his patched knee. “Where -did they live, I say? In one of Bradley’s box stalls that Wat Mayo -tacked burlap ’round to keep out the draughts. And they ain’t much -better off now down in that Sykes’ rent, living on bannock bread and -fighting wharf rats. _There’s_ one of your--“, old Ama-zeen wrinkled -his nose and brought the word out of his nostrils with a sardonic -twist--“_love_ matches, Phin Look, and there’s worse than that on the -docket.” - -Amazeen stumped across the room to the front window. “Huh! That’s queer! -He’s coming across the street now,” he said, with a chuckle and a wink -directed at Uncle Lysimachus. - -Squire Phin understood why the two old men turned their backs on him, -hunching their shoulders and shaking with suppressed mirth as the -uncertain footsteps of Mayo blundered up the outside stairs. - -He was a tall and scrawny young man with black hair parted in the middle -and spatted down on his head, presenting twin surfaces as shiny as the -wings of a beetle. A thin moustache drooped over a weak mouth, and -his eyes had that bland, vacant arch above them that irritates one’s -common-sense. Stupid, smug, self-satisfied, and spoiled--the only child -of the hard-working village carpenter, he had always worn better clothes -than any other boy in Palermo, had never been allowed to work, and had -posed as a village beau. He was just the one to attract a girl fresh -from the half-penal restraint of the State industrial school and “bound -out” as a drudge to a Palermo family. - -From the time when Phineas Look began first impatiently to notice the -youth loafing along the street, a cigarette dangling from his lower lip, -the sight made him angry--not with the boy, but with the parents that -were ruining him. Once he had bluntly pitched into Ezra Mayo, and from -the indignant retorts of that fond parent discovered that he vaguely -prized Watson’s stupid idleness as something aristocratic. - -The fact that they now referred to this marriage as they would to an -especially sudden and fatal attack of the bubonic plague, and refused to -admit that they still had a son, appealed to the offended lawyer by its -humour rather than otherwise. - -“You’ve been trying to swim in a puddle of molasses, you poor devil,” he -muttered as young Mayo came shuffling across the room. The faded glories -of his worn clothing were eloquent of what had happened in his fortunes. -His coat was ripped in the arm seam, the cuffs were frayed, but he wore -his big puff tie of baby blue, and the pungent effluvia of the stable -was toned down by cheap perfume that surrounded him like impalpable fog. - -“That smell’s thick enough to cut,” murmured old Amazeen to Uncle Buck, -fingers squeezing his nostrils. The woe-begone visage of the client -stirred spasms of silent mirth in the old men. - -“Well, Wat, how’s the bride?” inquired Squire Phin, with heartiness. -“And there wasn’t any hurry about your paying me that two dollars, if -that’s what you’re come in for.” - -“I ain’t come to pay you no two dollars,” returned the youth, gloomily. -“First place, I ain’t got it; second place, it ain’t as I expected it -was goin’ to be.” - -A subdued “tchock” sounded in the nose of Amazeen. - -“Let’s see. You’re speaking now of your marriage and not of your job, -as I understand it,” suggested the Squire, relighting his pipe; -“though--ump-foo--ump-foo--I should say you’d better save such talk for -the job.” - -“Well, I’m sort of speakin’ of the two together,” stammered the young -man. - -“I reckon you’d better begin to dissociate your wife from the livery -stable, Watson,” drily advised the Squire, “even though you did start -housekeeping there. Now, you’ll remember that you came to me bringing -the prettiest girl I ever saw, and you told me that it wouldn’t be worth -while for you to try to live if you didn’t have her. You don’t mean to -come here now, do you, and tell me that you don’t love her?” - -“’Tain’t that,” he blurted; “oh, ’tain’t that, Squire. It’s because -I love her so much and--and--well, somehow it’s all going wrong and I’m -afraid she don’t love me. It has kind of taken the gimp out o’ me. -I didn’t think dad and ma would stand out so long--and _she_ didn’t, -either, and I ain’t got no trade so I can hold down some good job, and -she ain’t satisfied with me. No, she ain’t, Squire. If dad and ma would -only take me home--if you would see ’em and fix it and----” - -“Look here, Watson.” Look threw himself forward and drove his fists on -the table with an emphasis that started the dust. “That’s why I married -you off, you fool, to get you out of leading-strings, to make a man of -you, instead of a puppy, loafing around our streets and chasing home to -your mother’s doughnut jar three times a day. Even old Eli, here, knows -how to carry home a bone for _himself_, but you hadn’t even done that -for _yourself_ up to the time you were married. And I gave you something -you wanted, something to work for, something that every man needs to -make a true man of himself, except when he’s a tough old bach like me. -Now what are you whining about?” - -Phineas Look’s reading of his own “heart-docket” the day before had not -inclined him over-much to amiability toward this particular variety of -ingrate. His tone was peremptory and he scowled. - -“I can’t earn no kind of a livin’,” Mayo stammered. - -“And you probably never will so long as you stay a chambermaid in a -livery stable. Great God, is that the limit of your ambition or your -enterprise? A man with a wife he loves, with two strong hands and a will -to get-there-Eli, to come sniveling like this! Hunt your work! Buckle -to it! That’s what will make something better of you, boy, than Mayo’s -housedog.” - -The taunt was wasted, for the youth persisted in his stubborn lament. -“She says now she wouldn’t have married me if she didn’t think we’d be -taken care of better.” - -“What kind of cussed notions did you put in her head?” the lawyer -stormed. “If you lied to her, Watson, it’s up to you to square yourself -now by making good. Do so well by her that she’ll love you and respect -you for yourself. Don’t make me sorry that I cut your dog-leash before -your parents plumb ruined you.” - -Young Mayo cast a furtive look at the two old men, and leaning over the -table murmured, his lips trembling: - -“I tell you, Squire, she scares me. She says it has come to her in a -vision that she has a mother--a lady mother, somewhere, all in silks -and satins, and she’s seen her in a vision with her diamond thing on her -head. And most ev’ry night she wakes and sits up in bed and reaches up -her arms and says her lady mother just asked her to come, Squire Phin, -and she’s a-goin’. Yes, s’r, she’s a-goin’ some time and I’m scared and -I ain’t got no ambition and I can’t buy her no good clothes, and I sold -my watch and scarfpin to give her money. My Gawd, Squire, she’s a-goin’ -and I can’t live without her, nohow.” - -Perspiration streamed down his quivering face and his lips “guffled” - tremulously. All the smugness and self-satisfaction were gone now, and -for the first time the lawyer saw the Mayo boy in all his wretched, -discouraging inefficiency. With a pang of self-reproach he reflected -that some natures cannot stand stiff doses--and his remedy for making -over a man had certainly been a heroic one. As he pondered, he fell into -his characteristic attitude, hands clutched into the long locks of his -gray hair, his elbows on the table. He gazed into the pathos of that -quivering face and studied it as he would the page of an open book. The -little office was very still. - -“Blorh-hum!” coughed Amazeen, and he proceeded, addressing no one in -particular: “When I was a boy, goin’ to school, there was a family named -Bragg that lived clust to us, and they had a boy named Ximenus--that was -it, Ximenus Bragg. Them Braggs they was poorer--poorer’n Pooduc, but the -old man had to have his three dogs, and fin’ly Ximenus was took with a -craze for music and nothin’ would do but what he’d got to have a snare -drum. And he teased and he coaxed. Old Bragg hadn’t the gumption to -plunk his foot right down and say ‘No,’ but he’d whine and argue -with the boy and say that with winter a-comin’ on he’d ought to have -long-legged boots instead of a drum. Finally Old Bragg told Ximenus that -if he would go without the boots and not whine, he could have the drum, -and the drum he did get, by gorry. I s’pose that for a couple of days -there never was a more tickleder boy. He ratty-tooed and ratty-tummed -and long-rolled and biffed and banged and et his meals off’n the head -of the thing and kept at it till his ma was so near drove crazy that she -chased him out doors with the rollingpin and threatened to bust in the -head of that drum if he ever put stick to it ag’in in the house. - -“There it was, late fall and the snow beginning to fly, and I’ll never -forget the sight Ximenus made standin’ out there on the cold door stone -on one foot and holding the other foot to the calf of his leg to warm -it, and then shifting feet to get the other warm, and drumming away all -the time, trying to keep his courage up and make himself believe that -he loved music and the drum and was glad he had it instead of them new -long-legged boots.” - -“Beats all about some critters, don’t it?” commented Uncle Buck, after -listening to this tale with much interest. - -“It does that,” returned Amazeen. - -The Squire had not taken his eyes from the Mayo boy’s face. - -“Bub,” he said softly, “they meant well--your folks--but--damn ’em for -fools. - -“Are you and the little one hungry?” he asked in a half whisper after a -time, careful that the old men did not overhear. - -“We ain’t suff’rin’ none, Squire, but we don’t have meat vittles -nor nothin’ the same’s I had at----” but as the hard lines crinkled -ominously around the lawyer’s gray eyes he stopped confusedly. - -Shielding himself from the scrutiny of Buck and Amazeen behind the youth -who still leaned over the table, Squire Phin straightened his leg and -cautiously ran his hand into his trousers pocket. After a period of -fumbling he slid his hand along the table, slipped a bill into the palm -by which the young man was propping himself, squeezed the fingers down -over it, and said with a tenderness almost parental: - -“Go buy a good, meat dinner to-day, son, and have plenty of meat hash -for supper, and perhaps the little one will sleep so soundly that the -lady mother can’t disturb her. Take good heart. As Eli, here, says: ‘The -harder you have to dig after a woodchuck, the better your appetite is -when you get him.’ We’ll see what can be done. Now straighten up. Throw -back your shoulders. Cock your knee every time you step, just like your -best livery horse--the best ‘letter,’ you know--the one all the folks -ask for. Hold up your chin and show ’em it’s natural and not a -check-rein habit. Remember all the time that you’re young, life’s ahead -of you, and the prettiest girl in Palermo is your wife. That’s the way -to face the world. Tail over the dasher. Now out and at it!” - -And seizing the youth by the arm, he marched him to the door, thwacking -his broad palm between his shoulders at every step. - -When Squire Phin turned and came back to his table he knotted his -eyebrows and glared at the two old men. - -“Now wipe those Chessy cat grins off your faces,” he snapped. “I see -through your hectoring scheme. But you watch me. I’ll sooner or later -put that marriage along with the others I’ve pigeon-holed under the -label ‘Successes.’” - -Amazeen turned to Buck. “The Squire wants to have all his marriage -certificates hold up like his title deeds, Lys--legal, binding, and good -for all time. But you mustn’t get touchy with us, Phin. It isn’t very -often that you marry a fool tumble-bug to a butterfly. Howsomever, -you’ve done it this trip, and it ain’t goin’ to be a success--and it -ain’t your fault. There’s something worse than what’s showed yet goin’ -to drop in that quarter or I’m no prophet. You’d better not be mixed too -close in it.” - -“Go along with your tattling gossip,” cried the lawyer. “If you and -Uncle Lys haven’t anything better to do, go out and take a sun bath. I -want to study.” - -“You know more law already than you need. You know it better than you -do some kinds of human nature, and I’m going to post you a little on -the last-named,” pursued Amazeen, cheerfully disregarding the rebuff. -“There’s more’n lady mothers and visions that’s makin’ Rissy Mayo -discontented.” - -“Huh-huh!” grunted Look, without apparent interest, taking down a volume -of reports and spatting the dust from it. - -“And I ain’t givin’ you any guess-so,” shouted Amazeen, nettled by the -lawyer’s contemptuous snort. He stood up and cracked his cane on the -floor. “I ain’t ghostin’ ’round, ’specially, nor tryin’ to pry into -my neighbours’ business, but when I’m knowin’ to a thing that’s poked -right under my nose, why, I know it. Wat Mayo has to set up ev’ry -ev’nin’, don’t he, to wait for let teams to come in? Well, he wa’n’t -out strollin’ in the Cod Lead Nubble pines all spring and summer, he and -Rissy, she a-swingin’ her hat by the ribbons, all so fine and gay--and -that was nigh ev’ry fair night. He was settin’ in the stable office -shinin’ up hames’ brass-work and nickel trimmin’s, wa’n’t he? He ain’t -meetin’ her on the South Cove road with a buff-lined Goddard, and -wearin’ a white hat with a black band, and takin’ her aboard. No, he -ain’t got any such hat, and there’s only one buff-lined Goddard in these -parts and----” - -“You say you’re knowing to all that?” demanded the Squire. His gaze was -direct and glowering and his fingers gripped the volume so tightly that -they were white and bloodless. - -“Not only I’m knowin’ to it, but so’s the South Cove seiners that have -their dry racks out that way.” Amazeen was defiant. The lawyer glared -at him so threateningly that he became thoroughly indignant. “And if you -want the straight facts,” he barked, “and have got to have names right -out in meetin’ to prove it ain’t just gossip, then it’s King Bradish -who is sparkin’ round the lady mother’s lovely daughter that you’ve -plastered off onto a poor boy that’s broke his people’s hearts by -gettin’ married to her. I’ve been wond’rin’ how the high-toned Sylveny -Willard would like to find that out.” - -Squire Phin laid the book on the table and put his hands behind him to -hide their trembling. - -“You listen a moment, Amazeen,” he said, spitting the words at the -old man; “there are limits to what a person can tell and tattle in a -community, when that telling and tattling implicates others’ good names. -You know me and you know how much you can depend on what I tell you. -If I hear another word on this matter as having been passed around the -village by you or Buck, here, I’ll give my services to King Bradish, sue -you for slander, attach every dollar’s worth you own, and, by the gods, -I’ll win my case. Now if you want your tongue to empty your pocket, go -ahead and talk.” - -The old men stared at him a while and then, mumbling angrily, but -plainly intimidated, went clumping down the stairs. The Squire stood in -the middle of the office, his hands spatting each other behind him. At -last the consciousness that some one was bawling his name outside broke -upon his profound meditation. - -“Squire Phin! Squire! Won’t you see here a second?” shouted Amazeen. - -Look went along to the front window and threw it up. Only the old men -were in sight in the street, standing shoulder to shoulder, their faces -upturned, their beards snapping in the breeze. At this safe strategic -distance they had one more shot to fire, and their countenances showed -it. Amazeen held his hand beside his mouth and huskily whispered: - -“Squire, you know--that party--the party we was talkin’ about just now?” - Sullen nod. “You needn’t sue me on his account. I won’t say nothin’. -But--Squire!” Another curt nod. - -“I know that said party has owed you a settlement for quite a while, if -what folks say is true. Now, why don’t you put your bill in with -Wat’s and collect both with a”--the old man shouted the last -word--“hoss-whip?” For Squire Phin had banged down the window. - - - - -CHAPTER V--HIRAM LOOK MEETS KLEBER WILLARD BRIEFLY AND BRISKLY - -AFTER TWENTY-FIVE YEARS - - - A nice little man came up the lane, - - And it was summer weather; - - Said he, “It is jolly to meet again, - - Like this, we two together. - - And if there be no other thing - - That you can think to say, - - Then it’s ‘How do you do? ’ and ‘How do you do?’ - - And ‘How do you do, to-day? ’ “ - - -It was “Figger-four” Avery who secured from Hiram Look the most -information about himself for general circulation. When, after the first -few days of wonderment, the attendance at the Squire’s premises dropped -off, it was “Figger-four” who remained loyal to the new attraction. -Hiram tolerated his constant presence because the little man’s -wide-eyed, wide-eared, wide-mouthed receptiveness of his tales flattered -the eminent impresario of Imogene and her appanage. - -Avery was so small and inoffensive that the showman never resented any -questions that he asked. All others Hiram shooed off with profanity when -they hinted concerning his affairs and intentions. - -“Blast him,” growled Hiram to his brother, “I feel like a sap tree with -a spile let into it when he’s around. I just drip and drip away to him -and he sets and laps it down and I can’t seem to shut off. But he’s an -obligin’ little fool.” - -Avery’s soubriquet came from the appearance of his legs. A fever-sore -years before had shriveled the left leg, and the knee was set -permanently at an angle. As he bobbed along, alternately rising and -sinking, he kept presenting with his legs the shape of a grotesque 4. - -“Everywhere I go,” said Hiram, “Figger-four is right at my elbow, still -askin’ questions. And I get interested in answerin’ and I forget and -try to keep step with him, and the first thing I know I’m hoppin’ along -worse than a darned jack-rabbit. But he’ll do errands like a fly.” - -Therefore he did not rebuff the little man. In consequence Avery was -able to report that Hiram had travelled all over the country; that he -had brought his chariots to Palermo because he was going to start out -with another circus after he got rested up and had squared things with -his brother. Furthermore, the people who had bought his other show -property weren’t willing to pay a fair price for the waggons, and Hiram -didn’t propose to be “Jewed.” No one had ever got the better of Hiram, -so Hiram told Avery, and Avery told the people of Palermo. He had--at -this point Figger-four always took a long breath--rising forty thousand -dollars in the bank, beside what he carried in the fat pocketbook. He -was ready to lend money on first mortgages, and Avery was able to state -that already several persons whom Judge Willard had been squeezing for -bonuses on renewal of their notes had refunded their loans with -Hiram. As Avery bobbed around telling this, he served as an excellent -advertising medium, and other patrons of Judge Willard, who had been -the town’s sole financial man for years, came to the new capitalist -for loans. Avery admitted that probably the Judge would still enjoy a -monopoly of handling the money of the widows and orphans and old folks -who had placed their funds with him for investment, because Hiram was -not yet morally rehabilitated in the town’s opinion. - -“But there ain’t a better man to borrow money from,” concluded his -champion. “He don’t take no bonus and he lets you have it for six per -cent, and set your own time.” - -Moreover, Hiram started the hum of industry in Palermo by hiring Ezra -Mayo and several helpers to build a shelter for the circus waggons. And -he was also vaguely hinting to the admiring Avery that next season he -might start something in the way of business in Palermo that would make -people open their eyes. - -“You’re all deader’n a side-show mermaid here in Palermo,” he said one -afternoon as he and Avery were sitting by the roadside under one of the -big Look poplars. “There’s a lot of things that need to be peppered up. -My brother Phin could have done it if he wasn’t too easy-goin’. Now, how -long has old Coll Willard been town treasurer?” - -There was a queer glint in the good eye that Hiram turned on Avery. - -“Goin’ on thirty years.” - -“Does he give bonds?” - -“Hain’t ever been asked to,” replied Figger-four, with the readiness -of one whose business is to know other people’s affairs. “This town -wouldn’t ask a Willard to do such a thing as that. He’s safer’n the Bank -of England, the Judge is.” - -“Is, eh?” Hiram’s voice was hard. “I’ve seen a town note that was signed -with only his name as treasurer. Does the town allow him to borrow money -that way?” - -“I believe Cap’n Ward did bring it up in town meetin’ once and say that -the selectmen ought to sign notes along with the treasurer. But there -wa’n’t anything done, as I remember. Cap’n was kind of a kicker. He died -the summer after that town meetin’,” added Avery, with an air as though -the death were a special visitation to punish temerity in attacking a -Willard. - -“Well, I’m feelin’ pretty healthy, myself,” said Hiram, “and you watch -me go into the next town meetin’.” - -“Lyme Bearce says he’ll bet you’re a disturbin’ element, no matter -where you light,” stated Avery, with the fearless naïveté of a village -news-bureau that proposes to do its full duty. - -“Lyme Bearce and the whole of you be jiggered,” stormed Hiram. “I’ve -been ’round the world some, and got up against human nature, and I -tell you the only way to meet a man is with one hand hold of your wad -and the other doubled up behind your back. Old Willard ain’t goin’ to -run this town to suit himself. You watch me!” - -“Then you ain’t goin’ off right away with your circus?” meekly asked -Avery. - -“I shan’t be goin’ till things get dull ’round here,” crisply returned -the showman. “That’ll be after there’s a performance in one ring, me -with the whip, old Coll Willard ridin’ bareback, and ev’ry time I snap -he’ll turn a flip-flop.” - -Figger-four blinked at him uncertainly. - -“Let’s see, you ain’t ever seen Klebe since you--you----” - -“Since I licked him! Say it; I ain’t ashamed of it,” blustered Hiram. - -“Well, he’s thickened up solid’s a knot, and they say there’s more -knockin’ down o’ men on board the ‘Lycurgus Webb’ than on any other -schooner that sails out of Rockland. Terrible hard man Klebe has growed -to be!” - -Avery glanced at the showman slyly to note how he received this -information. - -“I have squared all accounts with Klebe Willard,” said Hiram, “but if -I owe him anything more he can come and collect it. As for his father, -that’s another matter. He took my old father by the throat after I went -away and he had the twist noose of a mortgage around him for a good -hold. He bought in accounts against us, as ev’ryone in P’lermo knows, so -that he could collect the bills in a way to add ev’ry cent of costs that -skin-skunk lawyers could tack on. And my old father and my brother was -caught foul and paid double--yes, treble--for ev’ry dollar I owed. -I ain’t nothin’ except plain muck, Avery--just a cheap renegade that -hasn’t woke up to be half decent till it is too late. Payin’ it back to -Phin don’t fix it. I shall always hate myself--but never mind that!” He -swallowed hard and shook his head violently to and fro. Sudden passion -blazed out of this moment of weakness. “There’s one thing I can do--I -can spend forty thousand dollars puttin’ Coll Willard where he put my -old father, and, by the gods, I’ll do it! That’s my business and no -one’s else, and they can’t oh-please-don’t me!--no one, Avery, no one!” - -“Oh, I reckon the Judge is too well fixed for _you_,” observed Avery, -wagging his head. “The Willards was always wuth money--plenty of it.” - -Hiram did not reply. But he snorted contemptuously and his eye had a -strange look of craft and secret intelligence. “S’pose your brother will -be your lawyer,” suggested Avery. - -“Look-a-here, Figger-four,” cried the showman, “I’ve been drippin’ away -to you as usual without meanin’ to say half that I have. My brother Phin -has been abused by old Willard, right and left, but he has been too easy -to fight back the way he ought to. I’m squarin’ things for our family -in gen’ral, but it has got to be done without Phin’s knowin’ it. Do you -see? I want to use you some, first and last, and you’ll get your pay, -but if you say one single word to Phin about what I’m doin’, I’ll twist -that other leg of yours till the joint comes behind like a cow’s hind -gambrel. Me and you, and mum! You understand!” - -Avery apprehensively promised and escaped, evidently fearful lest more -secrets were to be entrusted to him. He felt that he wasn’t capable of -safely holding any more just then. But the consciousness that Hiram Look -was meditating the overthrow of such a magnate as Judge Willard propped -his eyes open a bit more widely as he hopped about the street, and -people began to wonder why Figger-four so often caught himself up in his -discourse and looked scared and hurried away. They didn’t realise -how anxiously the poor sieve was struggling to hold his secrets. The -constant and sulphurous threats of Hiram started the cold sweat -whenever they conferred together. Day by day Avery brought new bits of -information that the showman sent him to dig out of people, and day by -day Hiram fitted the information, piece to piece, only himself knowing -to what it all tended. - -He sat most of the time in the porch of the old house, smoking long -cigars, the parrot occasionally croaking his familiar cry as he waddled -about his cage, that was suspended from the porch roof. - -“My office,” Hiram called the porch. - -People who wanted to borrow money, old acquaintances, folks who loafed -along that way to hear his stories of wanderings, came and sat on the -turf of the yard or on the steps. The showman shunned Brickett’s store -and the other gathering places of the village. Once, Hard-Times Wharff -came up and started to have a weather-vane spell on the Look porch, but -Hiram drove him away with violent contumely. - -“He’s crazier’n a barn rat in a thrashing machine,” the showman observed -to his faithful Avery. “Why, I hear he even said I was bringing trouble -into this place, the old liar. I’ve only come to straighten out trouble, -that’s all. Smoothin’ and glossin’ things over and lettin’ people kick -you around and never objectin’ may be some folks’ idea of livin’, but it -ain’t mine. And I don’t allow anyone to say I’m makin’ trouble when I’m -doin’ a duty. You tell that to ’em in the village, Avery, and you -tell old Whatyecallum Wharff, there, that I’ll feed him to Imogene if he -snoops ’round here again.” - -But the next day Avery came bobbing hurriedly into the yard with the -breathless announcement: - -“’Quar’us smelt it comin’! ’Twas a warnin’ to you, Hime!” - -“Smelt what? That load of superphosphate that Cap’n Nymphus Bodfish just -brought in his packet? I can smell it, too.” - -“Klebe Willard came in that packet,” gasped Avery. “His schooner is -loadin’ at Portland, and he’s up for his lay-off.” - -“Well, what if he did come?” inquired Hiram, rocking on the hind legs of -his chair and boring Avery with his piercing eye. - -“Why, all is, he’s talked with the Judge, and now he’s frothin’ ’round -Brickett’s store, and he’s comin’ up here. I stayed long enough to find -that out.” - -“Let him come,” observed Hiram, with a calmness that troubled Avery. - -The messenger snapped up the full length of his good leg and shook his -cane at the imperturbable man on the porch. “But there’s liable to be -trouble,” he cried. “Klebe’s pretty middlin’ how-come-ye-so, same as he -usually is when he’s ashore, and there’s enough folks in this place to -want to see trouble and they’ll poke him ahead. Why don’t you have him -put under bonds?” - -Hiram got up and stepped down into the road. A man had already started -out of Brickett’s store and was stumping up the middle of the dusty -highway. A dozen men were leisurely following along the gravelled -sidewalks. When the distant pedestrian perceived Hiram, he shouted -hoarsely, shook both fists above his head and came on with brisk pace. - -“Avery,” said Hiram, “you gallop down with your best high-Betty-Martin -tiptoe and tell that gent that’s in the middle of the road that there’s -nothing’ doin’ in the circus way here this afternoon.” - -Avery stood hesitating. - -“Hop along,” roared the showman, giving the man a push. “You’ve been -whinin’ that you didn’t want trouble here. Now get into the game and -stop it. You can inform Klebe Willard--for I reckon that’s him tackin’ -up this way--that when he steps his foot onto the Look place he’s -steppin’ onto a proposition that has the burnin’ deck laid away in the -ice-box. Tell him I said so.” - -Hiram left the road and went into the big barn. - -The other came on more rapidly now, with a shout that was something -like a jeer. He violently bumped the entreating Avery from his path and -strode into the Look yard, the retinue following at a distance. - -The new arrival set his sturdy legs wide apart, threw his cloth cap on -the ground, and bellowed: - -“Come out here in the fair and open, where there’s sea-room, you old -woodchuck! Come out and see the mark I’ve lugged for twenty-five years.” - -He slapped his hand against his cheek where a scar showed its wrinkled -whiteness across his flushed, brown face. - -“Come out!” he bawled. - -“Crack ’em down, gents,” squawked the parrot, and he seized a bar of -the cage in his beak and rattled away vigorously. - -“Come out!” Willard kept shouting, stamping about on the turf. “If you -ain’t turned coward as well as skin-game thief, come out!” The parrot -interspersed in these invitations his raucous cries. - -“Between you and Absalom a man can’t do his chores in much peace,” - calmly said Hiram, appearing in the tie-up door. He stepped into the -yard, set the tip of a long-handled pitchfork in the ground, and leaned -his shoulder against this support. - -“You see that, do you?” yelled Willard, striding forward a few steps -and putting a thick forefinger end on the scar. “That’s been there -twenty-five years.” - -“Let’s see. You’re Cap’n Klebe Willard, ain’t you?” inquired Hiram, -affably. And a wordless shout answering him, he said: - -“Yes, I know you and I know the mark, because I put it there myself for -good reasons.” He looked around at the little group of spectators with -an air of secure triumph. - -“And you threw my poor old father over his own fence, you coward, when I -wasn’t there to defend him. Now, Hime Look, you’ve got to meet a man and -not a boy.” - -He rolled his sleeves up from his hairy wrists. - -“You’ve got to fight a man and fight him in order to pay a bill you’ve -owed here in Palermo for a long time.” - -Look still leaned on the pitchfork. “Put down your fork!” bawled the -frenzied skipper, “I’m not one of your tame animals,” and without other -preface he rushed at Hiram. - -The showman had been watching him with his sound eye glowing redly, the -glass one glaring impassively. At the skipper’s rush, with the facility -an old circus man displays with a pitchfork, he shortened the handle in -his grasp, speared one tine through the generous cartilage of Willard’s -ear, and before that furious adversary fairly realised what had -happened, he swung him on his heel, forced him back by the pain of the -pierced ear, and then driving the tines into the side of the barn, -set both fists on the end of the handle and had the frantic man a safe -prisoner at the end of the fork. Willard writhed a few times, groaning -as his ear tugged against the steel. Then he stood up, perforce as stiff -as a soldier, and roared at Hiram all the billingsgate of a long coast -“language-artist.” The grim captor simply glared at him until he had -exhausted himself. - -“A hyeny came at me in a cage once,” said the showman, reminiscently, in -the first pause, “and I caught him just like this, and I held him till -the fight was all out of him. Now, Klebe, you’ve come up here drunk as a -fiddler’s hoorah and wantin’ to fight. You can’t fight with me to make -a town spectacle. That’s what your father tried to do--make a town -spectacle of me. I won’t stand for it. The Willard family can have all -the trouble with me it’s lookin’ for, so far’s I’m personally concerned, -but not in knock-downs. Those don’t settle things. You can see that for -yourself. We fi’t twenty-five years ago, and here you are just as hot -for it next time I see you.” - -The skipper burst into a fresh rage, and Hiram calmly waited. - -“The idea is, Klebe,” he went on in a maddeningly patronising way, -“you’ve always done about as you wanted to and made others stand -’round. Now, I’ve come back to Palermo to do a little runnin’ of -things for myself. I’ll give you your chance at me when the right and -proper time comes, and fair warning ahead. And when you say that you’ll -walk off these premises, then I’ll pull out the fork. If you don’t -promise here before these people to keep away from me and shut up about -fights, you may as well make arrangements to have your meals brought.” - -At that moment Squire Phin came hastily into the yard, in advance of the -puffing, hopping, terrified Figger-four, who had brought him. - -“Hiram,” he called, as he came within hearing, “release Captain -Willard.” - -“Not until he promises to behave himself.” - -For answer the Squire, his face flaming with indignation, stepped behind -his brother, and, seizing him by the shoulders, yanked him backwards. -The fork came away and Willard stood free, clutching his bleeding ear. -As he rushed again at Hiram, the Squire stepped between. He said -slowly, quietly, yet with something in his face and his mien that was -soul-compelling: - -“Captain Willard, you go home!” - -After a long stare at him, a stare that at last grew wavering, Willard -turned and went out of the yard. - -The Squire stood and looked at his brother while the spectators stole -sheepishly away. His hands were clasped behind his back; sorrow, anger, -and reproach were upon his face. - -At last the showman stooped and dragged the fork tine to and fro on the -grass to restore its brightness. - -“I don’t want to poison Imogene,” he growled. - -The Squire was still silent. - -“Well, say it,” snapped Hiram. “It’s on your mind. Let’s have it. I’m -gettin’ used to bein’ called names.” - -But his brother only shook his head slowly, his eyes lowered to the -ground. He turned and walked back toward his office. - -Hiram gazed after him as long as he was in sight, and then he went into -the barn. The big doors at the rear were open, and the elephant, with -eyes directed on the soothing landscape, was comfortably weaving to and -fro. She crooked her trunk at him as he came near and curved it around -his shoulders when he stood beside her. - -“Old girl,” he said, mournfully, “I reckon the cards was stacked when -they dealt me my hand in this game o’ life. I’m a storm centre that -would put a barometer out of business, but”--he took hold of her ragged -ear and shouted into it, as though the affirmation did his resolution -good,--“it’s me for the Willard family, just the same, and Phin along -with me at the finish. You never _did_ give a continental for me, old -girl, till I had licked you to a standstill, and I know families that’s -like you.” - - - - -CHAPTER VI--SQUIRE PHIN HAS A WORD OF BUSINESS WITH KING BRADISH - - - For the dearest affection the heart can hold - - Is the honest love of the nine-year-old. - - It isn’t checked by the five-barred gate - - Of worldly prudence or real-estate, - - And that is the reason why, till the end, - - A childhood lover is loyal friend. - - -The little crowd that followed Klebe Willard out of the Look door-yard -moved slowly, for the irate skipper formed the nucleus of the group -and stopped every few steps to mop at his wounded ear with a big -handkerchief, while he grunted threats and promises of vengeance. - -“I hope you’ll give it to him hot and heavy, Cap’n. He needs it. To -be sure, I’ve done days’ work for him and got my pay, but I was never -cussed so much before in my life as I was by him in that one week, and I -don’t allow no man to talk that way to me.” This war-counsellor was Ezra -Mayo, the carpenter, a sallow, weasened little man who had prudently -run out of the door-yard at the showman’s first hostile movement. “And -there’s others in the Look family that better be made to mind their own -bus’ness,” he added with bitterness. - -He looked around apprehensively, and he now saw Squire Phin following -slowly, as though to avoid overtaking them. - -A carriage was standing in front of Brickett’s store, and the man who -occupied it leaned back with crossed legs and lazily kicked his foot -over the wheel. A white hat, a black moustache and the light lining -of the Goddard top emphasised the colour of his florid face. He looked -prosperous, well-fed and entirely self-satisfied, and hailed the -sputtering captain with great familiarity. - -As the Squire turned to ascend the outside stairway the man in the -carriage flapped a greeting at him with careless hand, garbed in a tan -glove. There was in the salute the same half-mocking condescension that -marked the intercourse of King Bradish with most of the townsmen. But -long before that, Squire Phin felt there was something more subtle than -mere condescension in Bradish’s attitude toward him’. There Was a sneer -under all, and there had been a sneer ever since the time when Palermo -knew that Judge Willard wanted King Bradish for his son-in-law. - -As the lawyer toiled up his stairs he heard Bradish inquire -sardonically: - -“Well, Klebe, which licked?” - -The Squire closed his door on the flood of profane threats that Willard -began to pour out, clutching the tire of Bradish’s wheel with one hand -and pounding emphasis with the other. - -The lawyer’s hands were trembling a bit as he sat down in his arm-chair -and drew his tin tobacco-box toward him. He heard the voice of Bradish -outside, raised above the captain’s angry diapason: - -“Do it? Why, of course I should do it; and you’d be backed up in it by -all of us.” - -Squire Phin leaned on his table, and, narrowing his eyes in earnest -thought, stared up at a row of creosote stains on the cracked plastering -of his wall. Those stains for many years had occupied a peculiar place -in his thoughts. When he half shut his eyes and gazed on the wall -without studying detail, the stains took on the semblance of a row of -men. He used at first to imagine them a jury, and he rehearsed his cases -before them. It was profitable exercise. Every judge who came to hold -court in that county had grown to respect the ability of the earnest -attorney whose law was so flawless and whose cases were so thoroughly -prepared. - -And after the Squire began to study the conditions of the country and -its great social questions, he found recreation in applying to them the -broad principles of law and seeking for solution. His own modest orbit -of practice afforded him no mental stimulus such as he got from this -imaginary practice. - -One day when there were no loafers in his office, he half-shamefacedly -cut the picture of the Chief Justice of the United States out of an -illustrated weekly and tacked it on the wall in the centre of the -creosote stains, and after that he argued “big cases.” - -And in order to argue them he stinted himself in his modest personal -wants in order to buy reports and digests and commentaries and all kinds -of fat books in slippery buff calf; and he read those books until his -eyes ached and his head spun, and he trained his big guns of logic and -appeal on those creosote stains--and then sometimes wondered whimsically -if this were not a sign of incipient aberration. He worried a bit -occasionally until a certain grave judge whom he met at nisi prius term -confessed to him one day as they were strolling after supper that he, -from childhood, had entertained a gnawing hankering to be a locomotive -engineer, and even then at sixty-five liked to walk by himself along -country paths, chuffing softly between his teeth and keeping as sharp a -lookout as though he were in the cab of a limited express. - -After that--the Judge being generally considered the most matter-of-fact -old hard-head on the State bench--Squire Phin reflected that probably -all men, if one but knew it, nurse little notions of their own. - -Therefore he kept on hammering the great trusts before that Creosote -Supreme Bench, cherished the diversion as his chief recreation--lived in -a dream world of amazing activity and usefulness. And in the meantime -he humbly and contentedly drew deeds, conveyances and wills, appraised -estates, presided sagely over “leave-it-out” questions of dispute, and -spent most of his time keeping would-be litigants in Palermo out of the -law. - -The voices under his window kept on their monotonous rumble as he -meditated. There was the occasional spit of an oath from Willard, -following the irritating drawl of Bradish, who seemed to relish the -skipper’s rage. - -“Your honours,” murmured Squire Phin, “I want to thank God in your -presence that I never yet ste-boyed a bulldog into a fight, rubbed a -tomcat’s ears, nor scuffed a rooster’s feathers and set him over into a -neighbour’s barnyard.” - -He tossed his pipe into the tin box and went along and threw up the -front window as though he had arrived at his resolution. - -“Bradish!” he called, and when the man poked his head around the side of -the Goddard and peered at the window, the Squire beckoned and went back -to his chair. - -“I was intending to come up right away, Squire,” said the visitor, with -an irritating air of condescension, standing with one foot on a chair -and slapping his glove against his leg. His garments seemed peculiarly -fresh and smart in the dingy office, in contrast with the lawyer’s -careless attire. “But I got pretty much interested in hearing Klebe give -personal recollections of ‘When I was a circus animal for five minutes!’ -It strikes me that your brother----” - -“I didn’t call you up here to talk about my brother,” broke in the -lawyer, brusquely. - -“Sure enough,” replied Bradish, airily, “I’d be ashamed of him if I were -you. So, then, to business! Have you collected from Buffum and Crummett -and those others?” - -“No,” said the lawyer, “and it isn’t about them I want to talk. I----” - -“But I propose to talk about ’em,” snapped Brad-ish, interrupting in -turn. “Here I’ve put a lot of bills in your hands to collect--_collect!_ -I want all that’s due me and I’ve got to have it. I’m in a hurry and I -told you so. This is the fourth time I’ve ordered you to put ’em to -the wall, and you haven’t done it.” - -“Look here, Bradish,” said Squire Phin, standing up and planting his -broad hands on the table to prop himself, “I’ve collected your bills -from all except a half dozen men, and that half dozen intend to pay. But -I’m not the kind of a lawyer that will take a poor man by the heels and -pound his head on the ground to shake money out of his pockets. Those -men have had sickness and death and troubles in their families, and -they simply can’t pay. And you can’t buy law in my office with which to -persecute honest men, Bradish.” - -“Give me the bills, then,” commanded the other, stretching out his hand -and clacking his middle finger smartly into the palm. “You aren’t the -only lawyer in this county.” - -Squire Phin looked at him steadily for a time, then pulled down a letter -file and began to search it. When he had found the papers he held them -and gazed at his client, knotting his eyebrows. - -“I didn’t call you up here to talk about your bills,” he said, “but now -that we are on the subject I’m going to ask you something, Bradish. -Why is it that, after I’ve collected and put in your hands almost -ten thousand dollars in the last few weeks--from men to whom you had -promised longer time--you are still driving me to take the very heart’s -blood out of these poor devils? Can’t you wait a few weeks?” - -Bradish brought his foot to the floor. - -“I suppose it’s a regular thing for a lawyer to ram his nose into a -man’s business and twist it clear to the bottom, hey?” - -“I don’t know as I ever asked another client such a question,” rejoined -the Squire, coldly, “because I don’t usually have a client who wants me -to go to a debtor with an auger and a blood-pump when the poor chap is -down and helpless.” - -“Then I’ll tell you, Look,” said Bradish, leaning forward with mock -appearance of confiding the truth; “it’s none of your infernal business. -Give me those papers. I know of a man that can collect them.” - -“And I know a man that will,” returned the Squire, “and collect them -without making women and children go hungry while their men folks are -in jail.” He sat down at the table, pulled a long wallet from his pocket -and began counting money from a thick packet of banknotes. “Receipt -those bills,” he said curtly. - -Bradish hesitated a moment, his anger prompting him to refuse the -money from this source. But evidently his anxiety to secure his cash -overmastered the grudge. He scrawled his name across the papers and took -the banknotes. - -“Circus money, eh?” he sneered, unable to resist the impulse to make the -fling. “I heard that Hiram has been squaring himself with you.” He began -counting the money. - -“Now there’s no more business between us, Brad-ish,” said the lawyer as -his client buttoned his coat. - -“I hope not,” retorted Bradish. - -“Only this,” pursued the Squire; “I may guess what you’re collecting -your money for and shortening financial sail in town, and I may not. No -matter! But I want to tell you, King Bradish, that from this time out -you are going to leave Damaris Mayo to her husband.” Again he propped -himself on the table and leaned forward. - -The charge came so unexpectedly that the man’s florid face grew pale -and then as suddenly flushed crimson, as he stammered oaths, seeking -emphasis for his denial. The Squire came around the table toward him and -raised his hand. - -“Not a word--not a word more, Bradish,” he said, his composure perfect. -“I married that boy and girl, and you can’t ruin that little home if I -can prevent it--no, sir, you can’t!” - -Bradish strode to the door, but he drove his fists down at his sides -with a gesture of impotent ire, whirled and came back close to the -lawyer. - -“Why don’t you own up what your grudge is against me?” he gritted. “Why -ain’t you man enough to fight fair and lay down when you’re licked? If -Syl-vena Willard had wanted you she would have married you, and because -she is going to marry me when---when”--his eyes shifted uneasily under -the Squire’s stern gaze--“when she gets ready to, is no reason why you -should ghost me ’round town and make up stories to retail to her. I -suppose you’ll be reporting I’m planning to run away.” - -“You stop right where you are, Bradish!” cried the lawyer. “Sylvena -Willard is too good a woman to have her name bandied here between us, or -dragged through a village scandal by your fault. Your affairs and hers -are between yourselves. You needn’t discuss them. But you shall not -break up young Mayo’s family, nor insult Sylvena Willard by your -actions, and I say this as a friend of both. Now, if you know where your -head is level you will get out of my office.” - -The creases deepened about the Squire’s mouth. One fist was clenched at -his side. The other hand pointed to the door. - -Bradish paused irresolutely, closing and unclosing his hands. But at -that moment the door opened and a woman came in. Bradish crowded past -her and went thumping down the stairs. - -Mrs. Micajah Dunham, bolt upright in the middle of the seat of a rattly -beach waggon and disdaining the support of the leather-covered back, -even when the ledges of the Cove road danced her most vigorously, had -with a directness typical of Mrs. Micajah Dunham driven straight to the -gnawed hitching post in front of Brickett’s store. Mrs. Dunham always -appeared to be a very rigid sort of person, but on this occasion there -was extra rigidity about her, from the set of her jaw to the stiffness -of her knee action, as she stepped down from the waggon. Looking neither -right nor left, she ran the halter rope through the gnawed hitching post -and walked up the outside stairs exactly in the middle, hands at her -sides and neglecting the rain-bleached rail as she had disdained the -seat-back. A bonnet trimmed with dust-spotted imitations of grapes -framed her narrow face squarely, and a shawl appeared to pinch her -shoulders together. - -She sat down in the “blind-stagger” chair well to the edge, on account -of the dust, at which her housewife’s eye glared in disfavour. - -“Squire,” she said, with a directness of attack that took no account of -his averted face, “I’ve come to consult you legally, and I’ve brought -the dockyments.” She jerked herself up, crossed the room, and laid on -his open book a sheet of rudely scalloped pink paper, on which were -pasted hearts cut out of red and blue tissue. - -“That’s almost the first to which I really was knowin’ the straight -facts,” she went on. “But I’ve had a glimmer of an idea for some time. -Oh, I tell you it ain’t come all to once, this thing ain’t!” The lawyer -turned slowly, picked up the paper, holding it gingerly by the corner. - -“Sit down, Esther,” he said quietly, “and we’ll see what we can make out -of it.” - -There were some lines of writing on the paper, and he read them aloud -in dry, legal monotone, the woman greeting the sentiments with scornful -sniffs: - - - “For those that love the world is bright; - - And when it’s bright it is a sign - - That some one’s eyes do shed the light; - - Oh, darling, be my Valentine!” - - -He paused and cocked his eyebrows at her inquiringly. - -“I caught Mr. Dunham writin’ that tormented sculch out of a book at the -sekert’ry in the best room one day the first of this month,” she said. -“And I took it away from him. And I know that he jest went to work and -made another, ’cause he said he was goin’ to. He’s been dead set and -possessed by the Old Harry for months, Squire, till I’m plumb out with -him. I can’t, won’t and shan’t stand it no longer. Here’s items, if you -need ’em.” - -She unfolded a long roll composed of many sheets of notepaper pasted -together, and he read in the same calm voice her pencilled entries: - -“July 15.--He helped her and her scholars to pick white weeds to trim up -the schoolhouse. - -“July 19.--Took our ladder and clime trees for leaves, ditto. - -“July 22.--Took broken candy to door and give it to her. - -“August 2.--Hitched and took her to her boarding place when it rained. - -“August 5.--More broken candy. - -“August 7.--Hitched before school and went after her. - -“August 10.--Dressed up and visited school.” - -The lawyer ran his eye over the other entries, noting a general -similarity in all. Then he read aloud: - -“August 10.--Suspect he is making a valentine. - -“August 12.--Caught him at it and took the valentine.” - -“And this is it, eh?” he inquired, tapping the gaudily decorated sheet -on the table. “But this is hardly the season for valentines.” - -“And this ain’t the season for a man that’s goin’ on fifty-two to fall -in love with an eighteen-year-old girl, either,” she retorted. “But -he’s done it. And ’sides all I’ve put down, it has been a continual -peddlin’ out to her of candy and apples and fol-de-rols. You understand -that by twistin’ a little I can see that schoolhouse door right from my -but’ry winder, and there it is in that paper, chalked up to date.” - -For the first time since she had entered the room his eyes softened a -bit. He shook the paper at her gently. - -“I understand, do I,” he inquired, his mild tones contrasting soothingly -with her high-pitched anger, “that this record of devotion to a certain -school-house door means that ’Caje is----” - -“It means,” she shrilled, “that that miserable, old, soft-headed fool -of a husband of mine has gone to work and fell in love with that young -teeter-bird of a schoolmarm in our deestrick, and has acted out till -I’m distracted. I can’t do nothin’ with him, Squire. He jest grunts and -growls and clears out of the house when I go at him. Now it’s come to -the end of the jig. Understand? It’s the wind-up. - -“There’s the dockyments. I want to warn you right at the outset that you -ain’t goin’ to come none of your gum-games on me, the way they tell of -you actin’ with some of them that come to you for law. My mind is as -set as old Pisgy itself.” She brought her work-stained hand down on the -chair rail with a vehemence that made it creak. - -“I’m not going to have any fight with you, Esther,” he replied, smiling -into her hostile eyes. “But you do surprise me about ’Caje. I thought -he was as steady-going as a stone boat.” - -She nipped her lips spitefully. - -“Always a hardworking man, ’Caje has been,” the lawyer went on; “has -stuck to his work a little speck too close, maybe.” - -“Look here, Squire Phineas Look,” she broke in, “this ain’t gittin’ on -about that _di_-vose. You needn’t try to beat about the bush.” - -“Let’s see!” he mused. “Poor, crazy Ben Haskell’s girl, ’Liza, is -teaching in the Dunham district, I believe. And Ben in the asylum these -five years! Is she as pretty as her mother was before her?” - -“High-headed snippet,” sniffed Mrs. Dunham. “But I’ll show her!” - -The Squire set his arms on the table, his elbows squared, and a -quizzical smile in the wrinkles about his eyes. - -“’Caje Dunham is a good neighbour, is honest and pays his bills, -Esther,” he said, “but do you think for one moment that pretty ’Liza -Haskell wants that old, callous-fisted, round-shouldered husband of -yours hanging around her?” - -The woman’s eyes narrowed, and she glared at him with malice in her -gaze. - -“A school agent in a district has to putter around the school house more -or less,” he went on. “If he has been too neighbourly I’ll talk with -him about it. But you’re not going to drag an innocent girl through any -scandal, Esther, just to satisfy some grudge that you’ve hatched up in -your own mind.” - -“So she has run to you with her budget, has she?” demanded the woman, -her expression still more malevolent. - -“No, I haven’t seen ’Lize Haskell for months,” said the Squire with -candour. - -“Oh, _she_ ain’t the one I mean,” Mrs. Dunham snapped. “I mean the -pompous Queen o’ Sheby that was sittin’ in that school house yistiddy -when I called there to give the little fool her come-uppance right -before her scholars.” - -She nipped her lips and looked at him so spitefully and meaningly that a -flush crept up from under his collar. - -He knew that the motherless girl had become a protégé of Sylvena -Willard’s at the time that Ben Haskell had been taken to the madhouse. - -“No wonder you’re ’shamed,” the woman went on angrily. “You all of you -are in the plot ag’inst me. I give her her earful, all right, Willard so -high and mighty, or no Willard. That teacher and her, the both of ’em, -got it straight from _me_.” - -“Do you mean to say that you went to the school house and abused that -girl before Sylvena Willard?” demanded the Squire, standing up and -glowering down on her. - -But her spirit was equal to his, for her anger was bitterer. - -“If any woman gits in my way when I’m doin’ my bounden duty by myself,” - she retorted, “she gits what’s comin’ to her. Says I to that snifflin’ -school-marm, ‘There’s no man what’s draggin’ at a woman’s gown-tail -unless he gits encouragement.’ And I says to Miss Queen Sheby of the -Willards, ‘You can take that to yourself, you that’s tryin’ to shet me -up. King Bradish and Squire Phin Look wouldn’t both be----” - -“Esther Dunham,” he shouted, “not another word. Not one word!” - -It was the awful anger of a patient man thoroughly aroused that fronted -her. - -“I have a right to speak my own mind, and I pretty gen’rally do it,” she -muttered, but she did not venture to say any more. - -He slowly sank back into his armchair, still glaring at her. - -“Oh, the devilish weapon that a woman feels privileged to use,” he -cried. After a time he went on sternly: - -“Esther, I knew you at school, and I’ve watched you more or less since. -You were kind of a cute little girl, with your way of spitting out just -what you thought about folks and things. But we’d laugh at kittens when -we’d cuff an old cat’s ears for doing the same thing. You’ve nagged and -browbeaten your husband all your life together, and you know it!” - -“Gimme them dockyments,” she rasped, popping up with a snap like a -carpenter’s rule. The lawyer put his broad hand on them. - -“’Caje Dunham was the kind of man that you could have driven with -a cotton thread of love and teamed him anywhere. But you’ve used goad -sticks, and hot pitch and a twist bit, and it isn’t any wonder you’ve -made him balky.” - -“So you’re stickin’ up for that missable critter right before my face -and eyes,” she cried. “I might ’a’ knowed better than to come here -and expect a dried-up old bach to admit anything about the rights of a -woman. You give me them papers, Squire Phin Look! I know where I can buy -law, even if it isn’t for sale in this shop.” - -He calmly held the papers away from her clutching fingers. - -“How much have you and ’Caje put away between you?” he inquired. - -And when she did not reply, puckering her eyes and resenting his -intrusive question, he suggested, more gently, “In case of alimony, you -know!” - -“If that’s what you’re askin’ for, I don’t know as there’s any hurt in -tellin’ you we’ve got risin’ ’leven thousand, put where it’s earnin’ -int’rest and twenty-five hundred out on first mo’gidges.” - -“And not a chick nor a child to leave it to,” he murmured, looking at -her with sudden sympathy in his eyes. “It’s too bad, Esther, that your -little ’Cilia was called away to her treasures in Heaven before she -could enjoy some of the treasures you heaped up on earth for her--you -two, poor, tug-a-lugging old critters, you!” She sat down suddenly, and -her work-stained, knotted hands trembled as she folded them on her lap. - -“Saving and skinching and piling up,” he went on. “What good has it ever -done you, Esther? Why didn’t you and ’Caje knock off and have a little -fun together in the world before you got hardened this way? And for poor -’Cilia it was always ‘Sometime!’ till she got to be sixteen years old, -and then she went on the first journey of her life--to the grave! And -the only good dress she ever wore was the one you laid her out in! Do -you know what animals grub and grub with their noses rooting soil?” He -shouted the question at her. - -She came back at him with equal fire. “When I want a sermon I’ll go to -the parson! ’Tain’t any disgrace to be prudent and forehanded, is it, -even if we ain’t got no one to enjoy it after we’re gone?” - -Her voice broke suddenly. The tears flooded into her cold eyes. - -“Oh, Squire,” she quavered, “’twould have been different with ’Caje -and me if only ’Cilla’d been left to us. Hain’t neither of us knowed -what to do with ourselves since we laid her away in the graveyard.” - -He walked around the table and patted the shoulder bowed under the faded -shawl. - -“And as little as you’ve got left in the world now, Esther, here you are -wanting to get rid of the biggest hunk of it. Can’t you realise that -you don’t understand this thing yet? Your husband don’t know what the -trouble is with him. Now let me tear up this list of ’Caje’s temporary -aberrations. I’ll have a talk with him, and we’ll see--we’ll see!” - -But with an angry red in her cheeks that seemed to scorch the tears -there she jerked her shoulder away from his patting hand. - -“Squire Phin, you’ve known me from a little snippet, and you know I -ain’t flyin’ off to no tangents without good reason. It ain’t no one -night’s growth, this ain’t. I’m going to have a bill from that man, I -say! The neighbours ain’t goin’ to have a chance to say _I’ve_ -backed down. If you don’t want to take the case, then out with it, -bus’nesslike, and I’ll go farther. But that _di_-vose I’m goin’ to -have!” - -There was no gainsaying her angry obstinacy. - -“Well, Esther,” he said with a sigh, “leave the papers and I’ll have -notice of the libel served.” - -“When? There can’t be no more fubbin’. The neighbours are all stirred -up, and I’ve made my talk!” - -“To-morrow.” - -“So do! And I’ll plan according,” she snapped, and with lips set tight -she left the room. - -The Squire slowly filled his pipe, his eyes fixed in unblinking stare on -a far corner. - -“Neighbours!” he snorted. “Poor little gaffer of a girl, and the whole -of ’em pecking at her!” - -He aimlessly searched for a match in his pockets, his eyes still on the -corner. - -“Oh, Sylvie,” he murmured, “they are just ready to bury their beaks in -you if you step between--oh-h-h!” - -In sudden impotent choler he snapped the stem of the unlighted pipe, -threw the pieces into the corner and went out, shutting his office door -behind him with a vehemence that made the building shiver. - - - - -CHAPTER VII--THE BUSINESS OF HUMAN HEARTS - -THAT CALLED SQUIRE PHIN TO THE COVE ROAD - - - Uncle Elnathan Shaw one day - - Started down cellar, usual way, - - Plannin’ in usual way to draw - - Cider enough for ’foresaid Shaw; - - But he happened to slip on the upper stair, - - Whirled round and grabbed at the empty air, - - And clear to the foot of them stairs, ker-smack, - - He bumped on the bulge of his humped old back; - - And his wife yelled down, as mad’s a bug: - - “Ding-rat your pelt, did you break my jug?’ - - -Micajah Dunham was pulling “six-weeks” beans in his lower lot the next -afternoon when he saw two men coming across the field toward him. With -hand at his forehead he soon recognised them--Squire Look’s sturdy -figure, and behind him the equally well-known waddling bulk of -“Sawed-off” Purday, Palermo’s local deputy sheriff. - -“Hen’, just hand ’Caje that paper,” directed the Squire after the -greetings. “Then, if you’ve a mind to, go back to the team and wait -while I have a word here.” - -The farmer’s face paled as he took the paper, first dragging his -earth-soiled hands across his trousers’ legs. He realised it must be a -legal document, and it frightened him. - -“It isn’t often that the lawyer himself comes along with his paper,” - commented Squire Phin, “but I felt that this might need a little -elucidation--and something else, perhaps.” The farmer blinked, holding -the writing aslant. The sheet crackled and fluttered in his trembling -hands. - -“I ain’t got my specs, Squire,” he said with agitation. “But I don’t owe -no money nor nothin’ to be sued for. What is it?” - -“Esther has sued you for a bill of divorce,” the lawyer explained -bluntly. “Charge, cruel and abusive treatment. From what she tells me -you are knowing to the whys and wherefores.” - -Dunham stumbled to a tussock and sat down. “Di-vose! Di-vose!” he -stammered. “Esther sue me? I don’t believe it. It is some kind of a -lawyer trick. Lawyers is alwa’s stirrin’ trouble, but I didn’t reckon -you was one of that kind, Squire Look.” - -“Look here, ’Caje,” the lawyer’s voice was bluff and businesslike; -“it’s better for me to handle this matter than to have it left to that -young whippet over to the Corner, who’d have your heart out if he could -pile up costs that way. Now, what do you mean by volunteering in the -cause of education?” he inquired, jerking his thumb at the school house, -whose roof was visible above the rise of ground. - -Micajah lowered his eyes under the keen look, visibly discomposed. - -“Still she’s a-dingin’ away at that, hey?” he growled. “If you was a -school agent in a deestrick, Squire, and there was a poor, lonesome -little wusser’n-orphan critter of a schoolmarm teachin’ the school, -wouldn’t you sort of show her a few attentions so’s to keep her in the -deestrick, seein’ that the children all love her? I’ve tried to explain -to Esther, Squire, that it’s all in the way of school gov’ummunt, as you -might say, but you know what a woman is!” - -“I’m afraid I don’t understand quite as well as I’d like to,” admitted -the lawyer sadly, “but as for you, I reckon you don’t know ’em at all, -’Caje. And you don’t know even your own self, you old numbhead. You’re -sitting meeching there on that tussock, and you don’t know your heart -well enough to understand whether you ought to be ashamed of your -attentions to the schoolma’am or to be proud of them, as showing that -you still have human feelings left. And the result of it all is that -you’ve blundered ’round till you’ve made your wife jealous, instead of -putting tenderness and generosity and mother-feeling into her heart. You -blind old mole, you simply don’t know---don’t know! Here! You come along -after me with that paper in your hand!” - -He led the way across the field, up the apple-tree bordered lane -and into the house. There was no one in the kitchen or in the -little sitting-room, where Esther Dunham always sat at her sewing o’ -afternoons, the sun filtering on her through the leaves of the window -plant? No one in the house! They searched and called, and only the -clock’s tick-tack answered in the silences. - -Everything was tidied. The table had been reset after the noon meal, and -its well scoured ware glinted cheerfully. Micajah grabbed the lawyer’s -arm. - -“She’s took her napkin ring!” he gasped. “She’s gone, Squire!” - -The husband hurried into the west bedroom and fumbled in the closet. -“And her clothes is gone, Squire!” he called dismally. “Oh, my Gawd, if -this ain’t trouble come double then I don’t know what ’tis.” He sat -down on the edge of the bed and seemed about to weep. - -“Get up there, you old fool!” Look roared. “I’ve about concluded that -the two of you need guardians or--or keepers.” He stood before Micajah -with his arms akimbo. “Eleven thousand at interest and twenty-five -hundred on first mortgages!” he sneered. “And while you’ve been pawing -that out of the muck, you and your wife, you have never stood up -straight, taken full, free breath of air and God’s sunshine and looked -into each other’s eyes like true man and wife. And she doesn’t know you -and you don’t know her, and you don’t know your own selves. Oh, ’Caje -Dunham, I’m ashamed of you!” - -The man stared at him stupidly. - -“You don’t know yet what I mean, do you?” the lawyer went on. “You’re -waiting for me, an old bach, to explain to you your mistakes and point -out your duty.” - -A youngster came slapping his bare feet along the shed walk. - -“Squire Look,” he called, “Mis’ Dunham is over to my marm’s, and she -just see you come in here, and sent word if you got any business with -her you can call over there.” He added, triumphantly, “She’s brung her -clothes to our house, too, and she’s goin’ to be our boarder.” He had -edged into the bedroom, and his round eyes, big with the half-knowledge -and guesses of childhood, goggled at the woe-stricken husband. - -The lawyer meditatively stroked his nose a moment and then turning -without a word walked out of the house. The boy pattered on ahead. -Dunham picked up the writ and followed dejectedly. - -“Be you goin’ to stay to the big meetin’ to-night, Squire Look?” - inquired the boy, bursting with his fresh knowledge. “Mis’ Dunham and my -marm and my pa and Mister Bolster are goin’ to have all the people meet -at the school house and discharge teacher.” He turned his urchin’s stare -of inquisitive significance on Dunham, stubbing along behind in the -highway. “Mis’ Dunham come into school this afternoon and told teacher, -and teacher didn’t go home after school, but I peeked in the winder, and -she’s there cryin’ and----” - -“Bub,” said the Squire severely, “you’re anxious to grow up to be a nice -big man, aren’t you?” - -“Yep.” - -“Well, there’s nothing that stunts growth like using your tongue too -much. That’s why so many women are shorter and slimmer than men. Now -always remember that all your life, and some day when you’ve grown up -good and tall you just tell your little boys that a nice old lawyer gave -you that advice about your tongue and never charged you a cent for it.” - -The boy stared up and down the big man, slowly slooped up the moisture -of his open mouth, and closed his lips apprehensively. - -Mrs. Dunham was on the front porch of the neighbour’s house, defiantly -awaiting their approach. - -“Has that paper been served?” she demanded, when they were still some -distance down the path. - -The abandoned husband held up the fateful document, and was about to -break into appealing speech, but she stamped her foot and checked him. - -“Not a word--not a word from you!” she screamed fiercely. “It’s all over -and done and the passel tied and the string cut between us. I’m here to -stay till I git my bill and allowance by the court. I shall watch that -house till I git my own out of it. Then you can go to pot and see the -kittle bile, for all I care. Ain’t you ashamed to face me with the -stigmy of that law paper on you?” She pointed at him as at something -proscribed. Her hosts were at the window, listening with manifest -enjoyment. The situation maddened Dunham. - -“Talk to her, Squire! For pity sakes, talk to her,” he entreated, tears -running down his sallow cheeks. “When she has twitted me before this -I ain’t talked right to her, and I realise it all now. I’m awful -sorry--I’m turrible, awful, desp’rit’ sorry I ever talked uppish to you, -Esther,” he wailed. “I ain’t fell in love with any one else. I vow I -ain’t. It’s diff’rent than that. I ain’t skercely realised how it was-- -but I reckon I know now. I’ve been thinkin’. I was jest--I was jest----” - -“Oh, you was jest Mr. Pompous-on-Parade, all so fine and gay,” she -sneered, “and now you think that one drop of goose grease is goin’ to -cure all the smart and hurt. But I tell you now, as I’ve already told -Squire Look, once my mind is made up it is set as the eternal hills. -Now, can you get that through your wool?” she stormed, her eyes blazing. - -“I know your disposition is inclined that way, Esther,” he faltered, -lifting his eyes to her piteously. - -“And you say there ain’t no way--no chance----” - -“No, sir!” she spat. - -He pondered awhile, his slow, farmer comprehension of the situation -dropping back into the material rut, in which his life had flowed like -muddy water. “Which of the milk pans is to be skimmed to-night, Esther?” - -“I marked them for you,” she replied stiffly. “And the cooked stuff is -on the swing shelf in the suller-way. Doughnuts and cookies in the stun’ -jar ’side of the flour barrel in the but’ry.” - -The lawyer had been scowling at the peering heads in the window. -“Esther,” he broke in, “I want you and ’Caje both to come over to -your house and sit down. I’ll venture to say that we can get at a more -sensible arrangement than all this amounts to.” - -“You’re up to your old tricks again, Squire!” she cried sarcastically. -“There are some folks that you can wind ’round your little finger, -and some you can’t, and I’m”--she patted her flat breast--“one with too -stiff a backbone to be wound.” She whirled on her heel and went into the -house, slamming the door spitefully. - -The Squire gazed at the farmer with a flicker of sympathy in his eyes. - -“Go home and do your chores, ’Caje,” he commanded gruffly, “and be at -the school house this evening.” - -At that moment the master of the house issued from a side door with -his milk pails on his arm, and started for the barn, wearing a fine -assumption of innocent obliviousness. - -“Oh, I. say, Uncle Paul,” called the lawyer, “what is the hour set for -the lynching this evening?” - -“Lynchin’!” repeated the astonished man. - -“Well, perhaps I don’t pick exactly the right word---inquisition might -hit it nearer. At the school house, I mean!” - -“If that’s lawyers’ lingo for our deestrick meetin’,” replied the -indignant farmer, “it’s set for ha’f-past seven.” - -“You can drive back to the village,” directed the Squire as he passed -Purday. The deputy had been comfortably lolling on the waggon seat, his -legs hooked over the dashboard. “I’ll come along when I get ready. I -ain’t afraid to foot it.” - -The mellowness of the waning afternoon was chilled a bit by the first -breeze of autumn that crept over the ledges of Nubble Hill. - -Squire Phin turned up his collar, clasped his hands behind his back, and -started down the road toward the school house. The old dog Eli, who had -been routed from under the waggon seat by the deputy, scuffed along the -gutter through the dry grasses. - -“If there’s anything lonesomer, Eli, than outdoors at this time of -year,” mused the lawyer, “it’s the empty chamber in some of the human -hearts that we know about.” - -All the eyes of the little neighbourhood were watching the Squire when -he turned in at the yard of the school house and disappeared in the -entry-way. - -But it was chore time and supper time, and the Dunham district people -went about their tasks, mumbling surmise as to what the Squire intended -to do. Mrs. Micajah Dunham remained at Uncle Paul Appleby’s gate, her -gimlet gaze still on the school house. There was nothing to see, but -she didn’t have anything else to do. For the first time since she could -remember she wasn’t busy with supper-getting at that hour of the day, -and she was conscious of something lacking, something discomforting. -Her hands twitched when she heard the rattle of dishes within doors. -She looked across at the old home. There was no trail of smoke from the -chimney. - -“Cold vittles is good enough for him,” she reflected bitterly. “I wisht -he’d choke on what I’ve left cooked up.” - -Her hard gaze did not soften when she saw her husband come out of the -cellar door, shoulders humped, dragging his feet spiritlessly, the milk -pails dangling from his lifeless arms. A gray cat was at his heels. - -“I don’t want Betsy to starve along with him,” grumbled Esther, and she -called stridently, “Kit-te-e-e! Kit-te-e-e! Come, kit-te-e-e!” - -With a feline’s deference to one who has always filled the saucer for -her the cat turned and scampered over to the Appleby house, tail up. - -“He ain’t even fit to associate with the cat!” snapped Mrs. Dunham, and -she picked up the purring creature and switched into the house. But that -uncomfortable hankering for occupation, that queer little feeling of -being a fifth wheel, obsessed her. - -“I’m goin’ to slip on one of your aprons, Mis’ Appleby,” she announced, -“and help you to get supper on.” - -“Now you jest set right down and fold your hands, Mis’ Dunham,” - remonstrated the hostess. “I don’t expect boarders to do one namable -thing. No,” she said hastily, stripping the apron from Esther before she -could tie it, “I’ve sort of got my own ways ’round the house jest -the same’s you have around yours, and there ain’t a thing you can do -to help. You go right into the settin’-room and look over the album, or -anything you’re a mind to.” - -Esther wandered into the other room. She reflected that she had always -said the same things to “company” that tried to mess in. But the smug -faces of the Applebys, enshrined between the plush covers of the album, -palled on her. Nothing to do! She peered through the interlacing leaves -of Mrs. Appleby’s geranium and a sob shook her. She was homesick, and -she knew it. Her hostess, stirring briskly about her kitchen, made her -long for her own domain of kitchen floor, even as a disgraced skipper -hungers for his own quarter-deck. A boarder! A thing without authority, -without aim or purpose! The clang of the oven door reminded her that -Mrs. Appleby didn’t make cream of tartar biscuit exactly after her own -receipt. How she would like to be back in front of her own oven door -pulling out a tinful of those odorous, hot, crisply browned biscuit! -But the reflection that Micajah would eat them made her snap her jaws -together and wink the tears back from her eyes. - -Yet she went out to the gate once more and watched to see if there was -now any trail of smoke from the kitchen chimney. Then she stared at the -school house, and her features hardened. - -“Oh, I don’t understand it!” she murmured. “It ain’t been like ’Caje -at all to do it! I can’t understand it!” - -She could control herself no longer. Despite the fact that she had -stubbornly forced the issue herself, nagged on by the neighbours who -had counselled her to stand up for her rights, she felt abandoned by the -world. Her face puckered with the unsightly grimace of those who do not -often weep, and the hot tears bubbled freely. - -“You don’t appear to be enjoying very high spirits, Mrs. Dunham.” She -raised her head from the fence post with a jerk, for the drawling voice -startled her. King Bradish’s rubber-tired carriage had made no sound on -the dusty road. He had swung in upon the grass and sat looking at her, -his elbows on his knees. - -“It ain’t any one’s business how I feel,” she retorted indignantly, -ashamed at having been detected. - -“I heard down to the village that you and the old man had agreed to -disagree,” he pursued, with that calm impertinence that Palermo called -“the Bradish cheek.” - -“I don’t thank anybody to go peddlin’ my bus’ness ’round.” - -“Well, you’d have to put Sawed-off Purday under bonds to keep his mouth -shut if you don’t want legal business strung from Clew to Erie in this -town. But what I can’t understand is, why you didn’t get a lawyer that -would really put your case through. Phin Look never will. And he don’t -intend to, because he told Purday as much.” - -There was malice in the glint of his eye. - -She clutched at the palings and projected her face at him over them. - -“You needn’t make up any such faces at me,” he said coolly. “It’s none -of my business, especially, but I hate to see a man that poses as a -lawyer go around fooling his clients.” - -“Look here, King Bradish,” she cried, “I don’t know what Hen’ Purday is -saying and I don’t care. But I do know that Squire Phin Look was here -this very afternoon, and the libel was served on Mr. Dunham, and the -Squire is down there in the school house this very minute talkin’----” - In spite of herself her voice wavered, for she had been wondering with -angry astonishment why her lawyer should go into so long a conference -with the other side. - -Bradish slowly stretched up his arms and yawned. “Yes?” he drawled. -“Down there with the school-marm, hey? Probably he’s telling her how -the paper that was served on your husband to-day was only a dog-license -blank, and they’re having a laugh, and he’s explaining how he will fix -the thing up and fool you.” - -She slammed open the gate and started down the road. - -“Jump in!” he invited. “You seem to be in a hurry, and I don’t blame you -a bit.” - -A few moments later he snapped his hitch-weight into his horse’s bridle -and followed the angry woman into the dusty entry-way of the little -school house. - -Esther tore at the knob of the inner door and threw it open. - -Squire Phin sat in the little teacher’s chair. The little teacher was -huddled on the floor at his feet, her head on his knee. He was stroking -a shoulder that was quivering with sobs. - -At the woman’s first explosion the lawyer arose and put his arm around -the teacher and led her toward the door. - -“I will talk with you when you are in your right mind, Esther,” he said. -“But this poor child has suffered enough from your tongue. Isn’t there -one streak of womanhood left in you?” He put out his arm and gently -pushed her from their path, leading the schoolma’am toward the door. - -“A pretty spectacle of a man you are, Bradish,” he gritted. “You’re -trampling on a poor girl to strike a coward’s blow at me.” - -His face was gray with passion and his brows knotted above flaming eyes. -He shouldered against the other and crowded him back into the entry-way -and to one side. Bradish had his whip. - -“If it wasn’t for the presence of the ladies here, Look,” he cried, “I’d -lace you till you howled.” - -“Bradish,” replied the Squire, “you’re hiding behind women now, like -the cur that you are, and you have been hiding behind a woman for a -good many years. Some day--but I’m a fool to stoop to your level. Come, -child.” - -He strode away across the yard, the little teacher in the hook of his -arm. - -“I guess you might as well take back your husband, Mrs. Dunham,” he -heard Bradish cry after him. “Your lawyer seems to have cut him out.” - - - - -CHAPTER VIII--SQUIRE PHIN ACTS AS PEACEMAKER - - - I’m tellin’ ye what Eph Landers did - - The time that he went and lost his fid. - - He was yankin’ boulders a week ago-- - - Tumble feller to hump and go! - - He strung his chain round a rousin’ rock - - And found that he’d lost the little block - - To catch the link; it’s used instid - - Of a hook and link and it’s called a fid. - - And the crack-brained critter--what do you think? - - Why, he stuck his thumb in the unhooked link! - - -The school house was more than filled that evening. - -People came straggling up across the fields by short cuts, following -lanterns that winked between the striding legs of the bearers. The -nearer neighbours scuffled slowly along the road, bringing lamps and -shielding the blaze with curved palms as they walked. The lanterns were -hung on the nails about the cracked walls, part of whose unsightliness -the little teacher had covered with the evergreen wreaths that she had -plaited. The lamps were placed on the knife-whittled desks. - -The grown-ups painfully bent their knees under these narrow confines, -some of them acting as though they were astonished that they were so -much larger than they were in the old school days. Most of them hadn’t -been in the school house since they had gone out with their tattered -books in a strap so many years before. - -“It makes ye feel nearer the grave, don’t it?” whispered Salome Burpee -to her seat mate of the old days, who had by almost unconscious choice -sought the well-remembered desk. - -The seat mate, a tall, scrawny woman, was obliged to sit sidewise, for -she couldn’t get her knees under the desk. - -“My, yes!” she replied rather mournfully. “It don’t seem hardly a day -ago that I could sit here and swing my feet.” - -“That’s my initial,” mumbled Deacon Burgess to Uncle Paul Appleby, -fingering a deep nick in the edge of the desk. “They was new then, and I -got walloped for cutting it.” - -The men had gravitated to one side of the room, the women to the other. -All whispered decorously if they had occasion to address one another, -for in rural communities the usual gatherings are prayer meetings, and -habit is strong. - -They discussed the report that the Squire had gone to the teacher’s -boarding place with her, and would be present at the meeting that -evening, and that he had talked “real saucy” to Mrs. Dunham, and that, -too, after she had hired him for her lawyer. - -Esther sat grimly at the far side of the room in the girls’ reservation, -and Micajah was hunched into a seat on the other side, his eyes staring -straight before him. Neither exchanged a word with any other person in -the room. - -“I heard it hinted,” whispered the scrawny woman, “that Sylvene Willard -is going to stick her nose into this thing. She has allus made more or -less of ’Lize Haskell, and ’Lize has been one of her ‘Grit and Grace -Girls,’ as she calls ’em.” The woman’s tone was scornful. “You can let -Sylvene Willard alone to put more tomfool notions into a girl’s head in -a minit than practical common-sense will weed out in a year. She’s got -them girls meetin’ to her house Saturdays and readin’ a lot of ratted -stuff out loud and writin’ papers and foolin’ with a lot of lit’ry -sculch. I wouldn’t let my Minnie join in with ’em. I told her that -there was too much readin’ and writin’ of tomrot in the world now, and -if she wanted to read she could stay to home and read cook-book receets. -It may not be quite so new-fangled and fash’nable as it is to read -about furrin’ countries”--the woman’s lips curled and her nostrils -spread--“but it is a blamed sight more to the point if a woman’s goin’ -to amount to anything in this world and has got a husband and fam’ly--as -she ought to have.” - -“Sylvene Willard better ’a’ taken one of her chances,” agreed Salome -Burpee. “She can talk about loyalty to her parent and all sech till the -cows come home. But the trouble was she was tormented afraid that the -Judge might shine up to Number Two. I tell ye, them Willards is shysters -after the dollars!” - -“She might have gone furder and fared wuss than o ’a’ married King -Bradish,” said the tall woman. “But you’ll find that she has liked to -have the two of ’em taggin’ at her gown-tail. You can’t blame ‘Lize -Haskell for thinkin’ it’s all right to be flirty.” Salome turned a -cautious gaze to the stolid, hard face of Esther. Then she looked across -to Micajah. - -“My land o’ Goshen,” she murmured, “it don’t seem as though that young -gal would need to mess into a fam’ly like that. I’ve thought right -along that there ain’t anything to it except that Esther is so set and -determined to make it out that way.” - -“I tell ye she’s a designin’ little critter,” retorted the tall woman. -“And I want to see her boosted out of her job. If Sylvene Willard wants -to stick and primp girls up and git ’em to readin’ furrin’ his’try -and a lot of sculch, and gittin’ ’em all set up when their father’s -nothin’ but a crazy pauper, so that they’re so nippy they have to talk -polite lingo all the time, ‘yes, marm, yes, sir, our black cat!’ then -I say let her take care of ’em. I want my Minnie to see that airs go -before a fall!” - -A grating of wheels on the grit outside checked the whispers. - -Sylvena Willard came in, her cheeks flushed by her ride through -the crisp air. The assembled inquisitors of the Dunham district -instinctively knew that she was there as the teacher’s defender, and -they surveyed her with disapprobation. - -But she nodded cheery little greetings here and there and sat down on -one of the front seats with great composure. - -“Holds her age tumble well, don’t she?” mumbled Deacon Burgess, -surveying the profile above the fluffy collar of her jacket. - -But Uncle Paul gazed at her grudgingly. “It ain’t the real Christians -that go to Heaven on flow’ry beds of ease,” he grunted. “She’s had a -pretty soft time of it all her life now, I tell ye.” - -At that moment the hush was broken by one of those solemn explosions -that the irreverent call a “vestry cough,” and “Wolf” Doughty, so -nicknamed on account of a swelling on his cheek, swung in his seat and -suggested: - -“I reckon we might as well proceed to elect a moderator to preside this -ev’nin’, whilst we are waitin’ for the defendant ’foresaid. Any one -that has a mind on the subject will please say something.” - -At this hint Deacon Burgess was preparing to nominate Doughty, when -there was a bustle in the entry-way and Squire Prin Look came in, -blinking the outside gloom from his kindly eyes. The little teacher -followed close in the lee of his generous bulk, her eyes downcast. The -lawyer had carefully timed his late arrival, both on his own account and -for the sake of the schoolma’am. - -“We’ll let ’em get settled on the roost,” he had told her, “and their -first spell of cawing over and done with.” - -He lifted her chair from the platform and placed it so that she did not -have to meet their eye-borings. Then he went up and calmly sat down -in the visitor’s chair, the only seat on the platform, with an air of -proprietorship. - -He crossed his knees and swung his dusty foot comfortably, oblivious to -the frowns on the faces of Doughty and his adherents. The old dog beside -him surveyed the audience with benignly extended jaws and rapped his -tail as though it were a chairman’s gavel. - -The town of Palermo was accustomed to seeing the Squire at the head -of all assemblages. For years he had been the natural selection of the -voters at town meetings, after that hot caucus years before when he had -defeated Judge Willard, who had been moderator so long that the office -had almost become titular with him. It was a bold man who would get up -now and suggest that some one else preside. The men stole embarrassed -looks at each other, waiting for some one to take the plunge. - -“We’re wasting time, fellow-townsmen,” said the Squire briskly. - -“We was jest gittin’ ready to choose a moderator when you came in,” - growled Doughty. - -“Will you kindly make the nomination, Mr. Doughty?” directed the lawyer, -keenly eyeing the man. - -Doughty, nervous under the general regard that was now fixed on him, -gruntingly worked his legs from under a desk and stood up. He could not -nominate himself, and he wouldn’t name a Dunham district man, for he -was angry at the cowardice of the assemblage that had failed to obey his -hint. - -“I think it is the general sense of the meetin’,” he mumbled, “that -Squire Phineas Look serve as moderator, he knowin’ how--how----” - -“I will accept the honour with thanks,” broke in the lawyer, rising. And -as he stood there looking into their sullen faces he reflected, “You’re -a cheeky old pirate, Phin, but it’s the only way to keep ’em from -putting the little one on the rack.” - -“Neighbours,” he began, “I’m going to start in by telling you a bit of a -story. Once when I was a small boy my father had a flock of turkeys, -and the only thing I owned in the Lord’s world then was a little rabbit -about half grown. That was the time we lived over on the Ridge road; you -remember, some of you older ones, the farm that father took up?” Several -nodded. His tone was the social chat of an old friend. The initial -stiffness that had oppressed the farmers and their women had begun to -wear off. - -“Well, s’r, folks, that rabbit was about as cunning a little critter as -you ever saw. Gracious, wasn’t I proud of him, though! He used to hop -around the yard and nibble clover, and I liked to watch him. You know -how a rabbit’s nose will flicker when he eats? Like a lawyer’s tongue in -a horse case!” His listeners greeted this thrust at the profession with -much hilarity. The Squire beamed an encouraging smile at the little -teacher, and then for the first time since their nod of greeting he -looked straight and long into the face of Sylvena Willard. Her brown -eyes brimmed with appreciation. - -“Well, the little rabbit hopped about the yard where the big turkeys -brustled and hustled and pecked and scratched. Rabbit was busy getting -its living and didn’t mind the turkeys. And the turkeys didn’t pay much -attention to the rabbit. But one day something peculiar happened. One of -those hen turkeys made what you might call a mispeck at a grasshopper, -happened to get hold of that little rabbit’s ear by accident, and that -turkey was so surprised that she h’isted it right up and held on. - -“Now, it’s the nature of turkeys, when they see another one holding up -something that seems like a good, tempting morsel, to close in on the -run and get their share. So in they tore. First hen turkey, however run -off with the rabbit. She thought it must be good to eat, seeing that -all the others were after her hotfoot. When she had run as long as she -could, with every once in awhile another turkey getting in a peck at it, -she laid it down to take a peck herself, and the others crowded around, -shutting their eyes and getting in their work, and before they knew what -they were pecking at they had torn that poor little rabbit all to bits.” - -The audience blinked up at him, as yet hardly understanding the -application of the allegory. He straightened till his head grazed the -cracked ceiling. - -“Since then I have always had an eye out to protect the innocent little -rabbits from excited turkeys, who most likely might be sorry after they -realised what they were pecking at.” - -Esther Dunham interrupted him. She half rose from her seat and cried in -shrill tones: - -“As near as I can ketch what you’re drivin’ at, Squire Look, you’re -callin’ me a hen turkey and you’re flingin’ out that the rest of -the women in this school deestrick are turkeys, too. I for one don’t -consider that is a compliment, and I don’t propose to sit here and -listen to any more of that sort of talk.” - -He smiled indulgently at her excitement and went on: - -“As old Anse Breed, the chicken thief, used to say, ‘It’s a wise fowl -that doesn’t step off the roost on to the first warm board that’s stuck -up in the night.’ - -“Now, we’ll just let the story I’ve told stand for what it’s worth. But -you mustn’t expect me to argue in defence of such turkeys. And if you -ever see an old gobbler named Phineas Look forgetting himself to any -such extent you may throw just as many stones at me as you like till I -come to my right senses. - -“You all know why you’ve met here to-night. All this gossip and guess-so -and say-so has been thrashed over at back doors and front doors, -upstairs and downstairs. I’ll not soil my tongue by rolling it in my -mouth.” - -“It’s the bus’ness of this meeting to bring out the evidence,” blurted -“Wolf” Doughty. - -“Any time I need any assistance, Doughty, in running a meeting over -which I am presiding I’ll call you in,” replied the Squire tartly. “Now, -what are the facts? Here is a little girl--only a little girl--poor Ben -Haskell’s ’Liza, born and brought up in this town. Her mother dead -and her father worse than dead. She trying to earn her living honestly, -taking care of the children that you’re glad to have out from underfoot, -you women. Every day she has been sending them home to you a little -better, a little sweeter, a little more honest and self-respecting for -having been with her that day--and yet all of you are ready to turn and -rend her at the first squawk of---- - -“Look-a-here, Squire!” Mrs. Dunham was leaning over her desk, her thin -hand vibrating at him. “You can go about so fur with me! Do you mean to -tell this meetin’ that my husband----” - -“Sit down, woman!” the lawyer thundered. - -“This ain’t free speech!” clamoured Uncle Appleby. “A moderator ain’t -got no license to choke off everybody here.” - -With one stride Squire Phin was off the platform. Indignation bristled -from his shaggy gray locks and gleamed in his narrowing eyes. As he -passed Sylvena Willard she gave him a look that was like a cup of cold -water to a man in battle. - -He stood among them in the centre aisle. - -“Have your moderators to suit yourselves!” he shouted, with a thump of -his fist on the desk that made Uncle Paul dodge. “I’m down here now on -this floor as a man that won’t see this innocent girl harried nor put -out of a place where she is earning her honest living. Who are -you, Esther Dunham, to analyse the emotions of the human heart? A -self-operating dishwashing machine. What is your old husband that he can -understand them, either? A doubled-over grub worm. The two of you hungry -for something in your lives, you don’t know what! But you shall not shut -your eyes and tear the innocent! Eleven thousand dollars in the banks, -eh?” He snarled the words at them. “Rooted by your snouts out of the -soil, and you never lifting your eyes to God’s sun and sky and open -heart and loving eye and generous impulse. Oh, I know I am harsh and -bitter! It is as hard for me to say it as it is for you to hear it. I am -bitter toward all of you that live that way, and you in this town -have always known my feelings. I dare to tell you the truths about -yourselves, and only the sharp-pointed truth will dig into your hides. -I dare to say to you, Esther Dunham, that you have maligned a pure and -innocent girl who has minded her own business. I dare to tell you that -you have trampled upon the torch of love in your own house until you -have trod out every spark. - -“You wouldn’t let your husband love and do for his own child as he -ought. He don’t know what is the matter with him, that’s the trouble. -He has been bumping around like an old blind mule. He don’t know his own -heart. - -“Why, all under God’s heavens he needs is the love of a child--a child, -Esther Dunham. He has seen again in this poor girl the image of the one -he lost. He has built another altar for his affections, and if it is -outside of your own walls, blame yourself, Esther.” - -He clapped his finger smartly against his palm. - -“Wake up, ‘Caje! Wake up, my man! Can’t you see now what the hankering -in your heart meant?” - -The old farmer tucked his head between his arms on the desk and wept -weakly. His wife sat staring straight before her. - -“Poor little girl!” softly said the Squire. He tiptoed back down the -aisle and smoothed the little teacher’s curls. “Poor little girl! You -have been ground between two hard millstones--and none of you knew, none -of you knew.” - -He gazed long, silently and rebukingly over the assemblage. The people -shifted uneasily, shuttling their eyes from him to the floor. - -“Now, who wants to stand forth as persecutor of this abused child?” he -demanded, his hand protectingly on her head. - -No one stirred or spoke. - -In the silence he walked slowly up the aisle and bent down over the wife -who stood staring into vacancy. - -“Esther!” he said softly, and when she looked up at him after a time he -gazed at her with his eyes softening. - -“Poor old mother!” He said it with infinite tenderness. He waited -awhile. - -“It has been a bitter, cruel lesson that I have read to you,” he went -on. “I am a harsh old tyrant when my feelings are stirred. But I would -have defended just as stoutly your own little girl if she were here -alone and you were sleeping over yonder there on the hill where her -mother is.” - -He took her unwilling hand, and thereafter the eloquence that trembled -on his lips was the soul outpouring of a man who has lived the life of -human justice and generosity that he preached--and the woman knew it. -With the skill of one who understood what quality of human nature lay -under that tough New England exterior, he probed to the depths of her -being, pulled away all the husks of selfishness that the years had -piled, layer on layer, and reached the mother instinct. - -“Esther,” he said at last, “don’t you think you’ll look better with that -softness you have now in your eyes when your ’Cilia meets you at the -gate of Heaven? Why don’t you practise that look for the rest of your -life? But you need something to practise on! There are lots of things -that are going to waste up at your house since ’Cilia died. There’s -love and tenderness, most of all. There’s the heart of a faithful man -who has been yoked with you all these years, dragging at your mutual -burdens. He wants a little love, that’s all. He wants that love from -you, from no other. The two of you need something to soften your hard -natures, something in common. You lost that when your girl died.” - -He hastened down the aisle. The little school-ma’am struggled a bit in -his grasp, but with Sylvena Willard’s pat on her cheek and comforting -word in her ear she went with him. - -“Now, Esther, what have you to say to this poor little chicken--this -motherless little girl? Look into her eyes! What have you to say?” - -The woman seemed to be awakening from some dream. She gazed about over -the assemblage. Her eyes returned to the shrinking girl before her. - -“It was only the same way that my own father was good to me, Mrs. -Dunham,” murmured the schoolma’am, tears streaking her cheeks. -“I thought it was you that sent some of the little things, till -you---you----” Sobs checked her. - -“Esther!” pleaded the Squire, “it’s awful lonesome up to your house!” - -The whole picture of her homeless misery that afternoon blended with the -strange new light that had entered her soul. She clutched his arm and -pulled him down, whispered a few words into his ear, and then caught the -little schoolma’am in an embrace that proved that motherhood was burning -in her once again. - -The Squire nodded his head and smiled sagely. Sylvena Willard was -standing at the foot of the aisle as he passed, mist in her eyes, but a -smile of earnest approbation on her lips that made his heart beat fast. - -“It is a miracle, Phineas,” she whispered. - -“Oh, no; it’s in all of ’em--in all of us, if you only know how to get -at it,” he returned softly. - -Then he faced the silent people, who were blinking hard their blurry -eyes. He ran the brim of his worn hat around and around between his -fingers with an air that was almost embarrassment. - -“Neighbours!” There was a bit of catch in his throat. “Esther wanted -me to tell you that the little school teacher has found a new mother -to-night.” - -He went out through the entry-way, and the old dog waddled down off the -platform and followed at his heels. - -“Phineas!” Sylvena Willard caught him on the little platform of the -school house. “How are you going to return to the village?” - -“I was reckoning to foot it, Eli and I.” - -“The boy brought me in our team. Won’t you ride with me? I want to talk -it all over with you.” - -He was about to accept, when out of the gloom to which their eyes were -as yet hardly accustomed came a blur of lighter colour. It was the -lining of King Bradish’s Goddard buggy, and Bradish leaned out and spoke -to her, “I sent the boy home with your hitch, Sylvie. I’ve been waiting -for you.” He climbed out and “cramped” the wheel. “Was your experience -meeting worth all the time you put into it?” he inquired with a bit of -satire. - -“You sent my carriage home?” she demanded indignantly. - -“Why, it was the most natural thing in the world to do. There was no -need of keeping the boy here when you are going to ride back with me.” - -“But I am not going to ride back with you, King,” she said, recovering -her composure. “I must withdraw my invitation to you,” she went on, -turning to the Squire. “But you can return the compliment by inviting me -to share your conveyance--Shanks’s mare, I believe the boys call it.” - -“But it is two miles,” remonstrated the Squire. - -“Only a pleasant stroll after the stuffiness of the school house. -Come!” She seized his arm and brushed past Bradish, for the people were -beginning to come out of the school house with their lamps. - -He overtook them a few rods down the road. - -“Sylvie,” he said, walking his horse close to them, “I don’t propose to -discuss this thing in the highway, but you certainly can’t be intending -to walk home with this man, under the _circumstances_.” He dwelt on the -last word. - -She did not reply, but continued to chat to the Squire, who plodded on, -dumb and confounded at the turn affairs had taken. - -“And I shall tell your father!” drawled Bradish, venom in his tone. - -“Tell him whatever you think will be the best for all concerned,” she -replied with fully as much significance. - -They heard him lashing his horse cruelly as he turned the corner into -the Cove road. - -But during the walk to the village his name was not mentioned between -them. - - - - -CHAPTER IX--SUMNER BADGER MAKES A WILL AND, UNWITTINGLY, A DISCLOSURE - - - “A man there was who died of late - - Whom angels did impatient wait, - - With outstretched arms and smiles of love - - To take him to the Realms Above. - - “While angels hovered in the skies - - Disputing who should bear the prize, - - In slipped the Devil like a weasel - - And Down Below he kicked old Keazle! ” - - --An Epitaph by “Rhymester” Tuttle. - - -The Squire had pulled his arm-chair into the centre of the broadest -patch of sunshine that carpeted the dusty floor of his office. The -light flooded his book’s pages until he almost closed his eyes, but he -welcomed sunshine this morning. It fitted into his mood. When Brickett -started his coffee-grinder there was a certain rhythm about it that -set the Squire to whistling. “Hard-Times” Wharff was playing on his tin -flute down in the yard of the little brown house behind the currier’s -shop, the music serving as his daily relaxation from his meditations on -astronomy. Usually the monotonous “toodle-oodle” irritated the Squire. -This day he tapped time with his finger on the open page. - -He wanted to say something aloud and he glanced up at the “Creosote -Supreme Bench.” No, that wasn’t the right kind of an audience! He looked -down at the floor. Eli’s steadfast, worshipful gaze caught his. The dog -rapped his tail genially. - -“Eli,” said the Squire, smiling at him, “when you load your gun to bring -down a particular human heart, there isn’t any telling how many others -the scatter-fire will hit.” - -Then for a little while he sat and dreamed over that walk home along the -Cove road, past the pines that whispered and along the shore where the -waves seemed to follow them with a sort of a dance step. And neither of -them had said a word about love during all the long walk! - -In fact, Squire Phin hadn’t said much of anything. It was so good to -hear her voice. Since he had talked to her that August day across the -iron fence he had been afraid she would think that he was whining and -sentimental. To be sure, he reflected, his feelings had been cruelly -stirred that day, and that was some excuse; and then, too, he had waited -ten years to say even the little that he did say. He was rather proud -that he hadn’t raked up the old topic during the walk. This was the -pride of New England reserve that distrusts over-much lip service. It -had been hard to hold in sometimes along the way, when she praised his -courage in handling the affair in the Dunham district and showed her -appreciation of other things that he didn’t know she had heard about. - -“I suppose some men would have taken advantage and pestered her again -with love-talk,” he had pondered as he walked away from the iron gate of -the Willard place, “but I reckon I’ll never get fussed up enough again -to bother her that way. It’s a tough thing for a woman to feel that she -can’t walk with a man without his everlastingly dinging away his own -troubles into her ears--and--and there may be a time when she will walk -with me again if she realises that I know enough to keep my mouth shut.” - -All of which might indicate to those versed in such matters that Squire -Phin Look understood litigation better than love-making, which has its -own court days, its calendar for service, its notice and its set time -for appeal. He, however, felt that he had played the part of chivalry. - -So the morning had seemed fair and he had slapped Hiram on the back at -breakfast time and had hummed a tune as he walked to his office, -and everything had seemed to be music, even the mournful cooing of -“Hard-Times’s” tin flute. - -And when old Sumner Badger came dragging up the stairs and into the -office, and dolorously announced that he was going to die inside of two -days and wanted to make his will, the Squire leaned back in his chair -and laughed, to the indignant disgust of old Sumner. - -“If there’s anything funny about my havin’ a call to the Speret Land I’d -be much obleeged if you’d ’loosidate it, Squire Phin Look.” There -was a scowl on the old man’s yellow face, and his shock of white hair -bristled. - -“Die!” echoed the Squire; “why, Sum, who talks of dying with the sun -warm overhead, and the waves sparkling out yonder in the Cove, and even -Asa Brickett’s coffee-grinder down there playing dance music with every -twist of the handle? Never say die, Sum.” - -“I donno what’s happened to chirk you up so’t you giggle at your -neighbour’s solum warnin’s as have come to ’em, nor I don’t care -a ding, Squire Look, but it ain’t right to mix in your own joys with -others’ sorrers.” - -A close observer might have seen in the lawyer’s countenance a flicker -of contrition, as though he had suddenly remembered that every man in -Palermo didn’t have such cause for joy as he. - -“Sun a-shinin’, you say!” went on Badger, grimly. “Yes, and a sun-dog -each side of it like wings on a bat, and a-showin’ that we’re goin’ to -have a line gale that will blow the knot-holes out of apple trees. Waves -sparklin’, hey? Porgy scum from that stinkin’ Cod Lead fact’ry that -they’ve stuck under our noses out our way. Music in a coffee-grinder! -And Brickett chargin’ three cents more a pound for Rio than he ever -done. There’s some as can laugh at a fun’ral, but they ain’t got no good -wit.” - -“I never laughed yet at anybody’s troubles, Uncle Sum,” said the Squire, -gently; “but you and I, with life still in us, don’t know the day and -the hour of our passing out. You’re not going to die.” - -“You think you know more about me than my guardeen angel, do you, hah? -When my guardeen angel comes a-rappin’ the death knock on my headboard -night after night I know what it means.” - -The Squire remembered that Badger was a Spiritualist of fervent faith. -He made no comment. - -“Three times at our circle Mis’ Achorn has seen a shroud around me and -angel hands beckoning over my head. You ain’t denyin’ that Mis’ Achorp -is the best medium in this country, be ye?” - -“Mrs. Achorn is, probably, a good and well-meaning woman, Sum, I have -no doubt; but if I were you I wouldn’t let any one scare me into -conniptions. It doesn’t pay.” - -“I know what I’m talkin’ about,” persisted Badger. “I want to make my -will.” - -“There’s no reason why you shouldn’t,” the Squire replied, and he pulled -a long sheet of paper from the drawer. - -“I allus like to know prices before I buy. What will sech a dockyment -cost me?” - -Sumner Badger was known widely as the “closest figgerer” in Palermo. He -often boasted that he had never been extravagant in his life except once -when he bought five cents’ worth of peppermint-drops for a girl. He was -young then, he said. - -“She set and et the whole mess right down, one after the other,” he -frequently related, “and that fixed me with _her_. I wouldn’t have no -sech extravagance as that in a wife and so she lost her chance. I went -and got me a woman that knowed how to make things spend for what they -was wuth.” And on their little farm, denying themselves everything -except the barest necessities, the couple had amassed their little -competence. - -The Squire eyed the old man’s sun-faded clothes and his knotted hands -and his seamed, gaunt face, yellow with bile, and he pitied this -slave who had half-starved himself, in the midst of his herds and his -harvests. - -“Poor old gaffer, you’ve sold your cream all along and drunk the skim -milk,” he reflected--“a life ordeal worse than Tantalus went through, -for Tantalus couldn’t reach what he was hungry for, and all you have had -to do was to stick out your hand and dip into bounty.” - -He looked long at Badger, his shrewd eyes twinkling with the humour that -replaced his momentary pity. Then he answered the old man’s question. - -“I’m willing to be reasonable, Sum. Now, what would you say was a fair -price for drawing a will?” - -“Lawyers’ money comes dretful easy,” growled Badger. “’Tain’t like -diggin’ it out of a farm.” He pondered, screwing up his eyes and -calculating. “I should say if you’d draw up one that couldn’t be busted -I’d be willin’ to pay a shillin’.” He made a move to draw his wallet, -but the lawyer put up his hand. - -“I’ll tell you what I’ll do with you, Sum. If you’ll carry home to-day -a good big piece of steak and eat it with your wife--lots of butter on -it--I’ll draw your will for nothing.” - -Badger surveyed him dubiously and with sullen suspicion. - -“We don’t go much on meat vittles to our house--not with beef prices -stuck ’way up where they be.” - -“That’s my price. And it’s got to be sirloin, not round.” - -The lawyer saw by the expression on Badger’s face that he had -anticipated the old man’s prompt thought as to quality. - -“Steak’s steak, ain’t it?” he muttered. “I never heard of payin’ a -lawyer’s bill in no sech fashion, but”--he sighed--“I’ll do it.” - -“And aren’t you going to thank me into the bargain?” demanded the -Squire. “I usually get five dollars, at least, for a document of this -sort.” - -“I reckon it’s lib’ral as law goes, Squire.” He suddenly warmed a bit. -“You’ve been reasonable with me. Now I’ll do something for you. You’ve -allus kind of cocked your nose up at s’p’tu’lism. I know it. You needn’t -tell me! Now it’s goin’ to be worth something for you to reelly know -whether there’s anything on the Other Side. So after I arrive there and -git a little bit wonted to the place I’ll come back and appear to you -and tell you all about it.” - -“Oh, no, Sum,” expostulated the lawyer, his face serious. “I couldn’t -think of asking you to take all that trouble for a hard old nut like -me.” - -“But a word from you to the people--you bein’ prominent--sayin’ that -you’d seen me--materialised, mebbe; known by knocks, anyway--and I’d -said ’twas so-and-so, would carry a good deal of weight and prove that -I ain’t been no dum fool to b’lieve in s’p’tu’lism. I say, I’m comin’ -back and appear to you and you needn’t think it’s anything strange.” - -The Squire leaned forward and shook his finger at Badger. - -“Let me advise you on one point, Sum. This advice isn’t going to cost -a cent. Now, if you ever get so much as one foot into heaven--even get -your fingers through the crack in the door, you stay right there. Don’t -you ever take any chances on coming away to visit. They might get to -asking leading questions about you the next time you came back to the -door.” - -“You don’t mean that for a slur, do you?” The old man’s face hardened. - -“Let’s get to the business of drawing the will before we go to talking -personal, Sum. I don’t have the same ideas as you on some ways of -living.” - -He wrote the usual heading at the top of the page, dipped his pen and, -suddenly looking Badger in the eye, asked bluntly: - -“I suppose it all goes to the wife so long as she lives, and after her -to your niece, seeing that you have no children. To ’Liza Haskell, -poor Ben’s girl, I mean?” - -The old man shook his head with determination. - -“What! you aren’t going to leave it to your only niece--your dead -sister’s child--a little girl that----?” - -“This is my will and it’s my own property that I’m willin’,” interrupted -the farmer. “You can make it short and right to the point. It’s all -goin’ to be turned into cash when I die, and Mirandy will git the -interest as long as she lives, to be paid to her by the trustees that -I shall name. Then the whole is goin’ to pay for a monnyment over my -grave.” - -Squire Phin leaned back and stared at the old man. - -“Yess’r, a monnyment with my statoot on top and poetry about s’p’tu’lism -carved around the bottom. I’ll show ’em that has scoffed and sneered -that there is more to it than they thought.” - -“But how do you prove anything by putting, say, ten thousand dollars -into such infernal foolishness as that?” stormed the Squire. - -“It will show that one man believed in it thirteen thousand dollars’ -wuth--and that’s all he had and what he’d worked for all his life,” - persisted the farmer, stubbornly. He stood up and cracked his fist on -the table. - -“Now, you can’t change my mind on that one jot or tittle, Squire Phin -Look. You put it into any kind of lawyer lingo that will stick, and mind -your own business.” - -The Squire completed the writing without further comment, but his face -was stern and he drove his pen into the inkstand with violent thrusts. -Badger during the writing informed him that he wanted him to be one of -the trustees. The lawyer paused and frowned at the old man as though he -were intending to refuse, then inserted the name. - -“And I want you to take these notes,” went on Badger, “and figger the -interest up on ’em and put ’em in your safe and keep ’em.” - -He passed across the table a dog’s-eared bank-book with a few papers -between the leaves. The Squire examined them without particular -interest. There were half a dozen for small amounts. But at sight of -the last he sat up straighter, studied the document with increasing -attention, turned it over and over, and then stared at Badger, arching -his eyebrows. - -“Where did you get hold of this town note?” he demanded. - -“I lent good money for it. I got it right from the man whose name is -signed at the bottom--and he’s been town treasurer of Palermo for thirty -years. I reckon you know him!” - -“Seven thousand dollars!” muttered the Squire. “Why, this town -hasn’t----” - -“There ain’t nothin’ out of the way, is there, about me havin’ a town -note?” Badger went on. He paused a moment, then added, “So long as -you’re my lawyer and one of the trustees and I’m goin’ to die and shan’t -be lendin’ the money any longer, I tell you that’s a good way to let -your money out--on a town note.” - -For the first time since he had come into the office his face twisted -into something like a smile. He leaned forward and whispered: - -“Says the Judge to me, ‘You keep right still about how you’ve lent this -money to the town and you won’t git taxed. So long’s it’s between you -and me it won’t git onto the assessors’ books.’” - -The Squire had the note spread before him and was studying it, his hands -clutched into his thick hair, his elbows on the table. - -“Yess’r, the Judge says, ‘You’re a friend of mine, Sum, and so long’s -you keep still you’ll git your six per cent, and not be taxed on it!’ -But there ain’t no need of keepin’ still any longer. I shan’t need extra -int’rest. You can collect as soon as I’m dead.” - -“Sum,” said the Squire, slowly lifting his eyes to the old man’s -face--eyes in which there was a sort of shocked bewilderment, “I don’t -want you to say anything about this note. It isn’t to be talked of.” - -“But I’ve told Figger-Four Avery about it,” cried Badger, looking -scared. - -“Figger-Four Avery!” Squire Phin shouted the name. “Why, you might -as well have put it into the _Seaside Oracle_. What do you want to go -blurting your affairs for?” - -“He was inquirin’ on bus’ness for your brother Hime,” faltered Badger. -“He said Hime was borryin’ and lendin’ and was willing to pay seven per -cent. Figger-Four is clerkin’ for Hime and gittin’ facts and figgers for -him, and you know it jest as well as I do.” - -“No, I don’t know----” but the lawyer checked his exclamation, setting -his lips hard. He put the bank-book and the notes away in the safe. - -“It’s best for you to keep your mouth shut about this,” he said curtly -to the old man who followed his movements with frightened stare. “I -won’t answer for what may happen to you otherwise.” - -He threw up the window and looked out. Uncle Buck and Marriner Amazeen -sat on the store platform, their chairs tilted back. They were the -lawyer’s regular stand-bys as witnesses of legal papers, and came -upstairs at his call. - -“Your will, hey?” observed Buck as he pulled his spectacles down from -his forehead and looked over the paper preparatory to signing it. “I -allus thought you cal’lated on takin’ it all with ye, Sum.” - -When his eyes fell on the writing designating the purpose to which the -estate was to be applied, he snorted, “Well, it’s about as I reckoned, -after all. That’s the next thing to luggin’ it away to Kingdom Come.” He -read the clause aloud to Amazeen. - -“Statoot to be life-size?” that individual blandly inquired. - -“It will be as big’s there’s money for,” replied Badger, stiffly. “It -will be sculped out from my photograft and I reckon the sculper can make -me nine feet high. There’s risin’ thirteen thousand to do it with.” He -gazed at his auditors with triumph. - -“Le’s see!” pursued Amazeen, reflectively, “that would make your ear -about as big over as a chiny nappy. Before you’ve been standin’ there -two days them cussed sparrers will set up housekeepin’ in both ears. And -a robin will have a nest under your arm, and there’ll be a crow settin’ -on your head ha’f the time. You want to add a codicil there providin’ -for about four scarecrow windmills set around over you. You’re goin’ to -be almighty uncomfortable if you don’t. A statoot with twine string and -feathers sticking out of the ears ain’t going to attract no particular -admirin’ interest.” - -“If the citerzens of this town stand round and see a thirteen thousand -dollar monnyment get all cluttered and gurried up, then they ain’t got -no more public sperit than quahaugs,” cried Badger. - -Amazeen took Uncle Buck’s place at the table and proceeded to affix his -signature. While he wrote he said: - -“Mebbe you think you’ve done enough for this town so that the citerzens -will stand out there in the grave-yard, turn and turn about, and -keep the flies off’n that statoot with a feather duster! But I’m more -inclined to think that the youngsters will do it with rocks.” - -Badger replied to the sally with violent language, and the debate was -becoming acrimonious when the Squire brusquely advised them to continue -their dispute out of doors. His tone was harsher than usual, and his -face was troubled. The old men went out, Amazeen shouting further -directions to Badger, who hurried ahead, advising lightning rods and -fire extinguishers and other appurtenances. Uncle Buck greeted each -suggestion with a cackle of laughter. Squire Phin heard them pursuing -their furious victim across the square, but he listened with abstracted -frown, though at another time the grim jests might have amused him. - -He took the town note out of the safe and examined it again. Then he -pulled down a bundle of small pamphlets bearing the cover inscription, -“Town Reports of Palermo.” He studied them with care and at last leaned -back in his chair and gazed long at the ceiling. - -“If I,” he said, softly, “were town treasurer of Palermo and had -borrowed seven thousand dollars simply on my own name as treasurer, -after the town had voted that two of the selectmen should sign with the -treasurer on town loans, and had continued to pay six per cent, for that -money after the town had voted to refund all floating indebtedness -at four per cent., and, finally, still owed that seven thousand after -making oath in my last report that the town owed less than two thousand -dollars, why, I--I couldn’t explain it to myself, much less to the -voters of this town.” - -Brickett began to grind coffee again. - -“Don’t the people of this place buy anything except coffee?” growled the -Squire, jumping up and striding around the office. The noise racked his -nerves now. - -“It can’t be,” he muttered. “It’s some mistake or--or----” The -recollection of certain gossip he had heard a year before at the county -court regarding alleged dealings in stock by “a prominent Palermo man” - and his losses occurred to him, and he remembered that he had stoutly -averred that no one in his town ever dealt in stocks. He knew that -people outside were usually the first to hear of such things, but this -was a story that he didn’t believe. This note was there on his table--a -document that demanded explanation--a document that could be explained -by a desperate man’s financial stress and in no other way. Men did not -take such chances for amusement. - -Aquarius Wharff’s little flute piped away insistently. - -“What a devilish nuisance that old fool is!” the lawyer growled, and he -went along and slammed down the window. - -Who properly should demand that explanation? Himself as town agent. - -Brickett was now unheading a barrel, and the clamour made the Squire -pound his table with a boyish and futile rage. Every noise jarred on him -and the sun didn’t shine in at the windows any longer. - -There was no doubt about his duty. The note must be shown to the -selectmen. He picked it up, put it into his pocketbook, hesitated at the -door, then hastily went back to the safe, tucked it into the most remote -pigeon-hole, slammed the safe door and whirled the lock knob vigorously. - -“No, sir,” he muttered as he went down the stairs, “this isn’t a thing -to prick with a crowbar. It needs a fine needle. There’s a woman to be -considered first, and, by the gods! there’s no steer-team of selectmen -going to walk over her to get to her father--no matter how the land -lies.” - -He stopped at the foot of the stairs and looked back at his office door -with a singular air of apprehension, as though he had left there some -ugly and hideous object. - -“No, it can’t be.” He stamped his foot upon the turf. “It isn’t the -Willard stripe to do a thing like that. He’s a hog, but not a thief. I -guess I’ll go and sit under the old poplars and think about it a bit.” - -As he walked along the street he remembered what Badger had said about -his brother Hiram’s activity in the matter of that town note. - - - - -CHAPTER X--HIRAM LOOK PULLS IN SIMON PEAK FROM THE FLOTSAM OF LIFE - -FOR GOOD AND SUFFICIENT REASONS - - - Foster the tinker traversed Maine - - From Elkinstown to Kittery Point, - - With a rattling pack and a rattling brain, - - And a general air of “out of joint.” - - A gaunt, old chap with a shambling gait, - - A battered hat and rusty clothes, - - With grimy digits in sorry state, - - And a smooch on the end of his big red nose. - - That was the way that Foster went-- - - Mixture of shrewdness and folly blent, - - Mending the pots and pans as ordered, - - But leaving the leak in his nob unsoldered. - - --From “Ballads of the Wayfarers.” - - -Hiram was on the porch in his favourite attitude, his chair tipped -against the wall, his tall hat on the back of his head, his thumb hooked -into the armhole of his vest. He rolled his cigar across his tongue and -looked at his brother with a sidewise, suspicious glance as the Squire -sat down on the edge of the platform. The lawyer remembered suddenly -that he had seen that look on Hiram’s face frequently of late. It was -the wary expression of a man who feared that he might be called on to -defend himself. - -“I thought I’d run up to the house and sit down for a spell, Hime. The -loafers down there get on my nerves once in a while.” - -The Squire noted the instant relief on Hiram’s face. The cigar rolled -back to the other corner of his mouth and perked itself with new -assurance. - -“I don’t blame you, Phin. That’s why I keep away from Brickett’s. I can -jaw ’em off the premises, here, when they get to bothering me.” - -The old woman whom Hiram had insisted on adding to the household as maid -of all work snapped her dishcloth at the ell window and began chatting -with “Figger-Four” Avery, who was varnishing one of the vans. Avery sat -down on the cart tongue and gave her his full attention. - -“Avery is a fair sample of ’em,” continued Hiram, jerking his head to -indicate his servitor. “There ought to be only three days in the week -for fellers like him and the rest round here--a rainy day, Sunday and -pay-day.” - -“It wears on a man like Avery to get up before breakfast and work -between meals,” observed the Squire, drily. - -At this little jest of his brother’s, Hiram recovered all his composure. -It was evident that the Squire wasn’t bringing that dreaded “bone to -pick,” he reflected. - -“I’m goin’ to have old Skip-bug, there, give the whole outfit a -goin’-over, new gilding, new paint, varnish, and a clean scour. Prob’ly -I’ll be takin’ to the road again next season, Phin,” he said, with a -sigh. “I’ve been studyin’ it over for quite a spell. I’m get-tin’ to -realise every day that you’ve drifted your way and I’ve drifted mine, -and the things I talk about don’t hit you and the things you talk -about----” - -“I’m a pretty dry, prosy chap to be a companion to one who has seen the -world as you’ve seen it,” the Squire finished the sentence. - -“No, it ain’t that, Phin,” blustered Hiram. “The idea is you’ve got -education and I ain’t, and I never shall have. There’s only brass -and bellow to me, slam-bang like a circus band. So I guess I’ll have -Hop-and-fetch-it give the gear a slickin’ and I’ll be movin’ on.” He set -his hat down over his eyes and smoked hard. - -The Squire did not reply for a time. He had unclasped his jack-knife and -was meditatively jabbing it into the decayed wood of the porch platform. - -“The Looks are no great hands to make a lot of soft talk to each other -or anybody else, Hime,” he said at last. “But I want to say to you that -I really hoped you were home to settle here. Half of the house is yours -to do with as you like. Neither of us will bother the other one--I -hope!” - -Hiram gave him another of his suspicious side-glances. - -“I’ve heard that you have been making quite a number of investments in -town and were looking for more, and so I supposed you had decided to -camp here. I wish you would, Hime.” - -“Well, I don’t like to have money ’round idle, that’s all,” growled -his brother. He waited a moment and then, studying the Squire from the -corner of his eye, he said: - -“I suppose the old fools ’round here are makin’ all kinds of talk -about my lettin’ out a little money. I ain’t said anything to you about -it ’cause I reckoned you had business enough of your own to think -about.” - -“And I find enough in my own affairs to keep me busy, Hime. But”--he -turned his gaze full upon his brother--“I’ve found time to wonder why -you’ve been trying to _borrow_ money from old Sum Badger.” Hiram growled -an oath, brought his chair down on its four legs with a clatter, and -half rose, with a malignant eye boring the back of Avery, who was -unsuspiciously swabbing his brush on the side of the van. - -“Oh, it isn’t Figger-Four’s mouth this time, Hime. I’ve been drawing up -Sum’s will and he told me about it and left his notes with me.” - -Now that the Squire’s gaze showed that he understood the situation, -Hiram’s apprehensiveness gave place to bravado. - -“And what do you think of that town note that shows that your high -and mighty treasurer is a--is--well, whatever the law name is, I say -‘thief’?” - -“I am perfectly well able to attend to the business of my clients, and I -am not prepared to discuss their private affairs just yet,” returned the -Squire, tartly. “It comes pretty near bein’ a town affair, and as I’ve -never gained residence anywhere else and am a voter here and have got -investments here, it comes pretty near bein’ my affair, too.” - -“There are good and sufficient reasons why I don’t want this old family -feud carried on any longer, Hiram.” The lawyer stood up, clacked his -knife’s blade shut and shoved it into his pocket. - -“And I know what the reasons are and I say you’re a devilish fool to -have ’em,” cried his brother. - -“I have lived in this town all my life, Hiram”--the Squire preserved his -temper, though the other was already bristling with wrath. “I intend to -live here much longer. I am ready to resent injury just as quickly -as you are. But this keeping alive an old fight, when there have been -provocations on both sides, is folly and will lower us both in the -estimation of the public. I say, you are not going to tramp over -innocent persons to get at the object of your grudge.” - -Hiram stood up and kicked his chair off the porch. - -“Allow me to remind you--not to twit, but to speak the plain truth--that -you seem to have waked up pretty late to the fact that you had any -vengeance to attend to in this town.” - -“And that’s just it,” shouted Hiram. “I stayed away and let the -wickin’ be put to you and father. You’ve been ground into the dirt and -mallywhacked and spit on, just on account of me. The Look fam’ly has -been muck under foot for some folks. And even now, after all that’s past -and gone, that old wolf would have my ha’slet out of me if he could get -it. There’s a debt due to the Looks, compound int’rest piled on compound -int’rest, and by the jumped-up Judas Is-carrot, I’m goin’ to collect it, -Phin. You may as well stand out of the way.” - -He strode about the little yard before the porch. - -“And besides all that, he’s stealin’ from this town, and you know it,” - cried Hiram, stopping in his march for a moment. - -“There’s other redress for that besides persecution,” replied the -Squire. “It isn’t our business as Seth Look’s boys.” - -“It _is_ our bus’ness. And it’s more yours than it is mine. You’re the -agent of this town. You’re the man the people trust to see that Palermo -gets what’s her just dues. You know she is bein’ robbed. Now, Phin, you -either go to work and find out why old Coll Willard is borrowin’ money -secretly on town’s notes, and you put it before the people in the right -and proper way as you know how to do, or, by mighty, I’ll do it my way -and then you’ll see how you stand before the people--you that’s hidin’ a -note that you know is crooked.” - -Hiram stopped before his brother and breathed hard in his passion. And -now the Squire’s repression began to give way. The obstinacy of this -stormy petrel of the Look family was maddening. - -But, fortunately for both, the unhappy quarrel was interrupted. For some -moments there had been approaching behind the alders at the turn of the -highway a queer medley of sound--squeaking of whiffle-tree, yawling of -dry axle and over all a peculiar moaning. Now a vehicle like a van came -in sight. The brothers stood and watched it as it approached them. Avery -came hobbling with brush in hand and gaped his surprise. - -“Well, P’lermo’s took this time, sartin sure,” he gasped. - -’Twas almost a little house on wheels. An elbow of stove funnel stuck -out of one side. An old chaise-top was fastened by strings and wire over -a seat in front. Dust and mud covered everything with striated coatings, -a mask eloquent of wanderings over many soils. - -A bony horse, knee-sprung and wheezy, dragged the van at the gait of a -caterpillar. - -Under the chaise-top was a hunched-up elderly man, gaunt but huge of -frame, his knees almost at his chin. Long, grizzled hair fluffed over -his shoulders, and little puffs of white whiskers stood out from his -tanned cheeks. A fuzzy beaver hat barely covered the bald spot on his -head. The reins were looped around his neck. Between his hands, huge -as hams, moaned and sucked and snuffled and droned a much-patched -accordion. To its accompaniment the man sang words that he fitted to the -tune of “Old Dog Tray,” trolling lustily at the end of each verse, “An -honest friend is old hoss Joe.” - -“Whoa, there! Whup!” screamed Hiram’s parrot, swinging by one foot. - -“Ain’t you kind of workin’ a friend to the limit, and a little plus?” - inquired Hiram, sarcastically. The old horse, at the parrot’s command, -had stopped before the gate, legs straddled, head down, the dust rising -in little puffs as he breathed. - -“Joachim loves music,” said the stranger, with a mild smile. “He’ll -travel all day if I’ll only play and sing to him.” - -“Love of music will be the death of Joachim, then,” commented Hiram, -briefly. - -“Is there a hostelry near by?” asked the other, lifting his tall beaver -hat politely. In the atmosphere of rough-and-ready Palermo the little -action seemed an exaggeration. With satirical courtesy Hiram lifted his -hat--and at the psychological moment the only “plug” hats in the whole -town of Palermo saluted each other. - -“There’s a hossery down the road, and a mannery, too, all run by old -Fyles.” - -“Crack ’em down, gents,” rasped the parrot. “Twenty can play as well -as one.” - -The man under the chaise-top pricked up his ears and cast a rather -startled look at the plug hat in the yard. Plug hat in the yard seemed -suddenly to recognise some affinity or comradeship in plug hat under the -chaise-top. The Squire saw only another of those fantastic wanderers who -occasionally went dragging through the village, peddling their wares. -He backed slowly to the porch and sat down. His brother trudged out -into the road and walked around the outfit, his nose elevated with a -curiosity that was almost canine. - -At last he planted himself in the highway before the man of the -chaise-top, his knuckles on his hips, his eye flashing under brows -wrinkled with thought, and stared long and silently. - -“Who be I?” he demanded at last. - -The stranger surveyed him for a long time, his head drooping lower and -lower, until it was hugged between his shoulders. - -“You,” he huskily ventured, “so I should jedge, though I ain’t seen you -for a good many years, you--I should say--you----” - -“Well, up and out with it!” - -“You are Look’s Leviathan Circus and Menagerie, H. Look, Proprietor.” - -“You win a cigar,” assented Hiram, with a snap of his head. “And as for -you, you’re Sime Peak, billed as Mounseer Hercules, and I’m glad you -called when you came along.” - -There was a grim significance under his words that made the stranger -flinch. - -“Let’s see!” pursued Hiram, his eyes narrowing, “it’s quite a while to -remember back, but didn’t you throw up your job with me kind o’ sudden?” - -The man on the van scratched a trembling forefinger through a cheek -tuft. - -“I don’t exactly recollect how the--how the change came about,” he -faltered. - -“Well, I do!” Hiram came close and wagged a forefinger up at the man. -“You ducked out across country the night of that punkin freshet, when I -was mud-bound in that pennyr’yal settlement and the elephant was afraid -of the bridges. And you took my dancin’, turkey outfit and a cage of -monkeys and a few other things that didn’t belong to you, and--_her!_” - He almost shouted the last word, and then looked around with sudden -apprehension that he was overheard by his brother. But the Squire sat -on the porch without apparent interest. “What became of her, Sime Peak?” - demanded Hiram, hissing the words at him. He seized a spoke of the old, -dished wheel and shook the vehicle impatiently. The spoke came away in -his hand. - -“Never mind it,” quavered the man. “It ain’t nothin’. We’re all comin’ -to pieces, me and the whole caboodle. But don’t hit me with it.” - -He was eyeing the spoke in Hiram’s clutch. - -“What did you steal her for, Sime Peak?” - -“There isn’t anything sure about her goin’ away with me,” the other -protested weakly. - -Hiram yanked away another spoke in the vehemence of his emotions. - -“Don’t you lie to me!” he snarled. “The both of you done me when I was -tied up with my circus clear’n to the hubs in mud. Mounseer Hercules of -the curly hair!” he snorted, and ran a sneering gaze over the outfit. -“She wouldn’t chase you very fur now. You took her, I say, a girl I’d -lifted off the streets and made the champion lady rider of--and was -goin’ to marry and thought more of”--another cautious look at the -Squire, “yess’r, thought more of than I did of anyone else in the world. -What did you do with her?” - -“Well, I was startin’ and she wanted to go along and so I took her -aboard. She seemed to want to get away from your show, as near as -I could find out.” The giant hugged his knees together and blinked -appealingly. - -“It must be a bang-up livin’ you’re givin’ her.” Again Hiram -disdainfully surveyed the equipage. - -“Seems as if you hadn’t heard the latest news,” broke in Peak, his face -suddenly clearing of the puckers of apprehension. “She never stuck to -me no time--honest to Gawd, Look. She only made believe she was goin’ to -marry me. It was so I’d take her along. She ducked out with ev’ry -cent of the sixteen hundred I’d saved up and run away with Signor -Dellybunko--or whatever his name was--who was waiting for her along the -road. Honest, I ain’t seen hide nor hair of her since, nor I don’t ever -want to,” he rattled on eagerly, “and I’ve still got the letter that she -left for me, and I’ll prove what I say. She said in it that she’d been -plannin’ to do the same thing with you, but she had made up her mind -that you wasn’t as easy as I was and she couldn’t work you.” - -Hiram’s shoulders straightened and he pulled his trailing moustaches -with a bit of swagger. - -“She was out just to do someone so’s she and Dellybunko could get away -with the stuff,” insisted Peak. - -“She says so in the letter, and you was smart and I was easy--that’s -all!” - -“It’s the old army game, gents!” squawked the parrot. He cracked his -beak against the bars of the cage. - -Hiram shoved his hands into his pockets and with a sort of meditative -air of conscious superiority kicked another spoke out of the wheel. - -“Hadn’t you just as soon tear pickets off’n the fence, there, or -something of that sort?” wistfully asked Peak. “This is all I’ve got -left, and, honestly, I’ve never had no great courage to do anything -since she run away with that sixteen hundred. I never had no great -enterprise and ability like you’ve got, anyway. I just went all to -pieces.” - -He scrubbed his raspy palms on his upcocked knees. - -“I didn’t really want to run away with her, Hiram, but she bossed me -into it. I never was no hand to stand up for my rights. I could lift -weights and let ‘em crack a marble block on my chest, but anyone with a -limber tongue could allus talk me ’round--and I guess they allus can. -I wish she’d stuck to you and let me alone.” His big hands trembled on -his knees, and his weak face with its flabby chops had the wistful look -one sees on a foxhound’s visage. “When did you give up the road?” he -asked, evidently willing to change the subject. - -“Haven’t given it up,” snapped Hiram, scowling. “There’s the waggons -over there, and the round-top and seats are stored, and I’ve got my -elephant. I’m liable to buy a lemon and a square hunk of glass and start -out again ’most any time.” - -Hiram couldn’t help winking his good eye at his old partner in -“shenanigan,” though his face hardened again the moment after. Peak -chuckled fulsome appreciation, Still eager to placate, he said: - -“I don’t suppose you really have to.” He blinked watery eyes at Hiram’s -big watch chain with its bunch of charms, and at the ring on his thick -finger, with its blazing stone. - -“Forty thousand or so in the bank and plenty more out at int’rest,” - returned Hiram. He put both thumbs into the armholes of his vest. Then -with the patronising air of the “well-fixed” he inquired: - -“How are you gettin’ your three squares nowadays?” - -“Lecture on Lost Arts and Free Love, mesmerise and cure stutterin’ in -one secret lesson, pay in advance,” Peak explained listlessly. “But -there ain’t the three squares in no such graft in these times. I ain’t -got your head. I wish I’d been as sharp as you are and never let a woman -whiffle me into a scrape.” Hiram glowed with the same warmth that he -felt when “Figger-Four” daily regaled him with stories of how Myra -Willard made life miserable for Kleber with her tongue and her folly. -This gossip had been “Figger-Four’s” first recommendation to the notice -of the showman, and Avery had sagaciously pursued it. Hiram now looked -up at the man on the van with a pride that was gloomy, but none the less -apparent. - -“Nobody ever come it over me,” he said in low tones, with a side glance -to see that Avery didn’t overhear. “Still, another way you look at it, -she did come it over me and so did----” He suddenly checked himself. - -“But she didn’t come it over you,” insisted Peak. “I’m the one she come -it over, and look at me!” He made a despairing gesture that embraced all -his pathetic belongings. “You’re the one that’s come out ‘unrivalled, -stupendous and triumphant,’ as your full sheeters used to say. If I was -any help in steerin’ her away I’m humbly glad of it, Hime, for I allus -liked you.” - -This gradual assuming of the rôle of benefactor was not entirely to -Hiram’s taste, as his frown indicated, but the constant iteration of -admiration for his shrewdness and good fortune was having its effect. -The old grudge ached less. It was like having opodeldoc stuffed into a -bad tooth. Hiram felt as though he would like to listen to a lot more of -that comforting talk. Moreover, his showman’s heart was hungry for -some of that association of the old days and for a chance to swap old -stories. - -“Sime,” he cried with a heartiness that surprised even himself, “you’re -a poor old devil that’s been abused, and you seem to be all in.” He -surveyed the wheezy horse and kicked another spoke from the wheel. - -“Crack ’em down, crack ’em down, gents!” squalled the parrot. - -“If it wasn’t for Absalom, there, to holler that to me with an -occasional ‘Hey, Rube!’ I don’t believe I could stay in this -God-forsaken place fifteen minutes. There’s no one here that can talk -about anything except ensilage and new-milk cows. Now, what say, Sime? -Store your old traps along o’ mine, squat down and take it comfortable -a little while. I reckon that you and me can find a few things to talk -about that really amount to something.” - -The man on the van unhooked the reins from around his neck and let them -fall to the ground. But he still hesitated to climb down. - -“I should hate to feel that I was a burden on you,” he faltered. “But -if there’s any stutterers around here I might earn a little something on -the side to help out on my board.” - -“Me with forty thousand in the bank takin’ board money from an old -friend, or lettin’ a guest of mine graft for his livin’?” snorted Hiram. -“Not by a blame sight! You just shut up and h’ist yourself down here and -help me unharness old Polyponeesus.” - -Hiram introduced his guest to his brother with curt brevity. - -“And I guess I’ll do as you hinted this mornin’ about takin’ the other -half of the house, Phin,” he said. “I don’t want any friends of mine to -be underfoot for you. As long as you suggested splittin’ off, I’ll do -it. Old Aunt What’s-Her-Name can do for both of us.” - -“I didn’t mean it that way, Hime,” said the Squire, earnestly. “Your -friends are my friends and we can all get along comfortably together -just as we are.” - -“I’d ruther have the side-show privilege than a share in the big show,” - persisted the stubborn relative; “it’s your proposition, and I can -take a hint.” The presence of Peak and his mute suggestion of the old -associations were already having their effect on Hiram’s undisciplined -temperament. He had begun to wonder before this if getting acquainted -again with a brother after so many years was altogether a success. He -had been a bit ashamed in spite of Phineas’s candid forgiveness; this -calm, earnest, educated man made him feel ill at ease. Suddenly, he -realised perfectly why he had clutched at this stroller and hauled him -into this haven. - -Hiram always acted first and reflected afterwards. He knew now that he -had seized upon this man to hold him between his brother and himself, as -he would have interposed a shield. He had anticipated that his brother -would interfere in his resolution to “make Coll Willard curl.” For weeks -he had been dreading the hour when Phineas would come to him for an -understanding. No man knew better than he what the Look grit was, and as -he had fully made up _his_ mind to carry out his plan of vengeance, and -realised that the Squire would as vigorously oppose him, he had been -trembling each noon and night for many days, as he sat upon the porch -and watched the lawyer’s approach. - -Now he stood up close beside the amiable giant. - -“Sime and me is pretty close chums, Phin,” he said, “and we shall be -together all the time talkin’ mighty busy, and it ain’t in no ways right -for us to be gabblin’ round where you be and takin’ your mind off’n your -business. So I’ll have another cook-stove set up in my part and we won’t -trouble you a mite.” - -He took Peak by the arm and drew him away with some eagerness. - -“I want you to come in and see if Imogene remembers you, Sime. Then -we’ll look over the carts.” - -Avery had been crowding up closely, mutely appealing for an -introduction. His jealousy was aroused by the attention that was shown -to this new arrival, and he followed them toward the barn as they -started away. - -“Say, look-a-here, Figger-Four,” said Hiram, whirling on him and -speaking with a gruffness that wounded Avery’s devoted heart, “you get -back onto your job, there, and you mind it dern close from this time on. -I don’t want you trailin’ me no more. You keep your place after this.” - -The cripple stood gazing after Hiram until he had slammed the barn door -behind him. Then he settled slowly down upon his short leg and turned to -the Squire a face on which there was astonishment as well as grief. - -“Seems like I never seen a changeabler man,” he observed. - -The lawyer looked at the discarded companion a little while, and the -poor fellow’s distress was so sincere that he pitied him, even in his -own sorrow. - -“Don’t mind it too much, Avery,” he said. “Hiram has had a good many -things happen in his life to sour him and spoil his disposition. Some -day he’ll find out who his real friends are and then you and I will have -our innings.” - -He put his hands behind his back and walked into the house, and Avery -went on with his varnishing. At first his strokes were slow and his -face was melancholy. But as he pondered on his insult, his brush flicked -faster and soon he was slapping away at a lively gait, keeping time to a -song that he hummed, the last two lines running: - - “Good boy Phin, he don’t raise time, - - But pepper sass is hot and hell’s in Hime."- - - - - -CHAPTER XI--THE COMBINATION THAT PROVED TOO MUCH - -FOR SQUIRE PHIN’S “LOOK TEMPER” - - - “Let cats and dogs delight to fight, - - For ’tis their cross-patch natur’ to; - - To wallop humans is not right, - - But--wal, there’s things ye have to do!” - - --From “Meditations of Deacon Burgess.” - - -The next morning the Squire was busy at the cook-stove at daybreak. -He had joyfully turned old Aunt Rhoda over to Hiram’s _ménage_, and he -relished the idea that he could resume his own way of living. As he tied -on his canvas apron he reflected contritely that perhaps he was feeling -a bit too good about being alone again. It wasn’t wholly brotherly. - -Then in his mind he laid it all to Aunt Rhoda’s cooking. - -She had frizzled the bacon into black chips and fried the steak until -it would do for a boot-tap, and when the Squire had expostulated, had -defiantly told him that he’d better stick to his law books and not try -to tell her, after sixty years at the cook-stove, how to get up “a mess -of vittles.” She had obliged him to eat huge hot dinners at noon that -made him as sleepy as a stuffed anaconda for hours as he sat in his -arm-chair in the office, trying to read his books. She had expected him -to make out a supper on plum preserves and hot cream of tartar biscuits, -and he had already felt the first gnawings of dyspepsia. - -“Now for my steak!” he said aloud. It was a generous slice, thick as a -cushion and bordered with the cream-hued fat that Aunt Rhoda obstinately -threw away when she pared his steak into thinner slices in order to fry -them into parchment-like strips. - -It sizzled on the grid cheerily, the coffee--with its heaping “measure -for the pot” and two for himself--gave forth an odour that promised -better than the old housekeeper’s slaty-hued brew, and he was just -cracking his eggs for his omelet when there was a rap at the door. - -The Squire called an invitation over his shoulder, and the visitor -came in. It was the Mayo youth. His hair, that was usually slicked so -smoothly, was tousled and it hung in strings about his face. He had -evidently run all the way up the street, for he was out of breath and -panted with open mouth like a dog as he thrust toward the Squire a bit -of paper that he pinched by one corner. - -“Lay it down on the table,” directed the lawyer, shortly. “Can’t you see -that both my hands are full?” - -The young man stumbled toward him and shoved the paper into his hands, -evidently unconscious that the Squire had spoken. It fell into the bowl -and the lawyer picked it out gingerly, muttering his ire. - -Mayo then grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, trying to utter -intelligible speech, but he could only blubber and hiccup. - -“You infernal calf,” stormed the lawyer; “sit down in that chair and get -your breath and let me alone!” He pushed the youth across the room and -plumped him down with a thud that snapped his open jaws together. - -“She’s gug-gug-gone, Squire Look!” Mayo managed to squeak. - -The lawyer shook the paper to free it of the egg, looking ruefully -toward his bowl as he did so. Then he read the note, his brows knotting. - -“_Deer Wart: my laddy mother has come for me & i have had to go with -hur. i have gorn into a brighter wurld. soe yon needent hunt for me -corse i shant ever be found, with love Rissy.”_ - -“She’s dead,” squalled the husband, staggering to his feet. “She’s -jumped into the water somewhere. You know ev’rything, Squire.7 You’re -the only friend I’ve truly got to find her for me.” He seized the lawyer -by the arm and tried to drag him away. - -“Sit down, I tell you!” commanded the Squire, and again he thrust the -young man down into the chair. He read the letter again. - -“Have you shown this to anyone else?” he demanded. - -“No, not to a soul. I’ve run right to you, Squire. I know you can find -her, but she’s dead. Oh, where has she gone?” - -“She may have gone straight up or she may have gone straight down,” - growled the lawyer. “What are you sitting there gaping and goggling -like that for? When did she go? When did you miss her? Did she take her -clothes?” - -“I woke up this morning and found her gone,” wailed the youth. “She went -in the night. She’s dead. She’s gone with her lady mother jest as she -said she’d do.” - -“If you ever say lady mother to me again I’ll cuff your ears,” - stormed the Squire. “Or if you mention this to anyone until I give you -permission I’ll boot you clear to Brickett’s store and back again. Do -you think you understand that?” - -“Yes,” whimpered the youth. - -“Not to a soul! Finding your wife depends on it.” - -“Can’t I go drag in the Potter brook?” - -“You stay here in this house. You are going to eat some of this -breakfast first of all.” - -“I never can eat nothin’ more till she’s found,” wailed Mayo, with a -canine whine in his nose. - -But when the meal was on the table the Squire hustled him to a chair -beside it and roared at him until he ate. - -“It will never do for me to say one word of sympathy to the poor devil,” - he pondered as he eyed the pitiful creature munching his food. - -“If I loosen one bit he’ll be climbing all over me like a hungry dog. -The only way to handle him is to cuff him when he stands up on his hind -legs.” - -While the Squire ate he pondered. - -“She went with Cap Nymphus Bodfish on the packet, that’s how she went.” - -He glanced at the clock. - -“Eight,” he mused. “Half the time since he has put in his auxiliary -power Bodfish doesn’t sail until nine. If he got away early this morning -it signifies something, that’s all! It isn’t the first time King Bradish -has hired him for dirty work.” - -He started up and took his hat from the hook. “Wat,” he said, “you stay -here and wash up my dishes and make yourself useful until I come back. -Don’t you stir out of this house and don’t you say a word to anyone -about your wife being gone. If you disobey me I’ll quit you.” - -He hurried out of the house and down the street. - -It was necessary to go almost to the packet’s berth to determine whether -she was there, for the elms loomed high along the shore road. No masts -showed above the storehouse when he came in sight of it, but to assure -himself the Squire walked out on the wharf and peered around the corner -of the building. The packet’s berth was empty and there was no sign of -her on the narrow sea line at the mouth of the cove. - -“Hard-Times” Wharff stood by one of the hawser piles, looking to sea. - -“I wisht I was a garsoline ingine instead of a weather-vane, Squire -Look,” confessed the old man, regretfully. “The wind it bloweth where -it listeth, sayeth the Scriptur’s, but”--he sucked his tongue to imitate -the explosions of an engine, “tchock! tchock! tchock! Garsoline don’t -have to wait and list. It can go any time, day or night. I wisht I -knowed better how it works, but Nymp’ Bodfish wouldn’t let me aboard -this mornin’ to see how it does it.” - -“Did he get away early, Uncle Aquarius?” - -“I was down here at four to see whuther the sunrise was goin’ to be -pink or yaller, ’cause you know a yaller sunrise follerin’ on sun-dogs -means----” - -“Let the weather stand for a moment,” broke in the Squire, a bit -impatiently. “What time was it when Bodfish sailed?” - -“Break o’ day, no wind but garsoline, oil on the heave, and ‘Hard-Times’ -went aboard with him wrapped in a shawl. And he wouldn’t let me come on -to see the tchock, tchock, tchocker.” - -The Squire’s suspicions required no further confirmation. He hastened -away up the wharf. - -“The sneak!” he hissed through set teeth. “The pup!” But he did not -refer to Captain Nymphus Bodfish of the “Effort.” - -The man that was in his mind was just tying his horse at the post in -front of Brickett’s store, and as the Squire approached, hurrying up -the road, he shook the dust from his gloves and started leisurely along -ahead of him, blandly oblivious of the other, to all appearances. - -“Good-morning, Bradish,” said the lawyer, curtly, as he came up behind -him. He slackened his pace for a moment. Then he set his lips as though -to hold back something that he had intended to say, and hastened past. - -“Business seems to be rushing with you this morning,” observed Bradish, -with his tantalising drawl. The Squire walked on. - -“I say, Look!” The man’s tone was insolent. The lawyer’s evident anxiety -to avoid him spurred his bravado. “You’ve put your nose into my affairs -this time so far that you can’t pull it out by dodging me.” The Squire -held up and the man came close to him. “What do you mean, Bradish?” - -“I mean that the other evening you made me the laughing-stock of the -gossips of this town by stepping in between me and the lady I was -escorting. You have compromised her, and now her father----” - -“Look here, my fellow,” roared the lawyer, “my family isn’t a very -patient one, and you have got to about your limit with me. I never -intended to pass another word with you, for it’s getting to be dangerous -for both of us. But when you talk of my companionship, compromising any -lady, I’m going to put you before your own eyes as just what you are in -a community. You’re a low-lived, dirty hound that this very morning has -stolen another man’s wife and sent her away by Bodfish’s underground -railroad, as you’ve done once before if the truth were known.” Bradish’s -face was purple with rage, but he looked the Squire straight in the eye. - -“So you’ve become a lunatic along with your other qualifications! Now -tell me what you mean or I’ll post you for a blackmailer.” - -“I mean,” blurted the lawyer, “that it is your money that has hired -Bodfish to carry Rissy Mayo out of town to-day, and it’s your money that -she has in her pocket to pay railroad fare from Square Harbour to the -place where you’re sending her.” - -Bradish snapped his fingers under his accuser’s nose. - -“That for your slander!” he cried. He started along the walk, but -whirled and came close to Look. “There’s one thing I want to say to -you,” he growled, “and it’s this--you seem bound and determined to -plaster me with slander and it’s beneath my dignity to defend myself. -And now you are working up a plot against me. You have heard that I was -going to leave to-night for New York on business for Judge Willard and -myself, and----” - -“I have heard nothing of the sort,” retorted the Squire, his eyes -gleaming dangerously. - -“I say you have, and you must know I am going to his house now to -discuss it. But no matter about that. I say you have engineered a plot -against me, Look. You have fired that girl out of town and now you’ll -turn around to-morrow and take advantage of a business trip that I must -make and assert that I have run away with her. But I want to tell -you now”--in his passion he drove his palm down on the lawyer’s -shoulder--“if you dare to insinuate such a thing I’ll put you into State -prison for criminal libel. I shall at once explain your dirty trick to -Judge Willard and his daughter. And”--he drew back and looked at the -Squire with malice in his eyes--“I shall furthermore tell Judge Willard -what interest you have in this Mayo woman whom you have married off to -a fool in order to hide your own guilt, you cheap apology for a man and -lawyer.” - -The Squire stood immovable and stared at the man, his lips moving -wordlessly. But language refused to come. - -For a few crowded seconds he almost admired the impudence of Bradish’s -bluff, yet its masterly audacity fairly paralysed him. - -In the storm of his feelings words seemed useless. The thought of his -own impotence of defence, with this assailant in possession of Judge -Willard’s ear and confidence, the memory of his own sorrows of waiting, -the woes of the Mayo youth, whirled in his brain like torches. His fist -tightened into a hard lump, his arm throbbed and itched, and the next -moment, with a grunt, the Squire struck forward. - -For the first and last time in his life Squire Phineas Look knocked a -man down, and for one wild moment the primal Adam in him gloried in the -act. He stood above Bradish with his arm poised and his fist smarting. - -Then he looked up and beheld Sylvena Willard gazing at the miserable -scene from the piazza of the big house. - -And he held down his head and walked away up the street, the hot flush -of shame on his face, a sob in his throat, and the gray blur of tears -replacing the red blur that had flamed there a moment before. He glanced -back once and saw Bradish going to her with his handkerchief pressed to -his face. - -Hiram and his new friend were taking the air on the porch when he came -into the yard of the Look place. He tried to avoid them, but his brother -called to him. - -“We saw you do it, Phin,” he said. “’Twas good work, but what had he -done to you?” - -“Oh, Hiram,” mourned the Squire, “don’t make light of a terrible deed. -Oh, the Look temper--the Look temper! Thank God there are none of the -blood to follow us.” - -He stumbled into the house with the feeble step of an old man. - - - - -CHAPTER XII--THE LIVELY FIRST APPEARANCE OF “THE LOOK BROTHERS - -CONSOLIDATED MENAGERIE AND CIRCUS” - - - “Allus was bound to grab right in, - - That was the cut of old Seth Blinn. - - Finger was stuck in ev’ry pie - - Or else he’d know the reason why; - - But when he quit how people swore, - - For things was wuss’n they was before.” - - --Ballads of “Queer Capers.” - - -By Judas,” remarked Hiram, admiringly, to Peak for the tenth time since -they had observed the astonishing contretemps in the road, “I’m proud of -that brother of mine. I didn’t know ’twas in him. I was afraid he was -only lawyer and nothin’ else.” - -He relighted his cigar. “I’ve got to own up to you, Sime, that we wasn’t -gettin’ along together the best that ever was. I thought he had got -soaked with too many sissy notions, and there’s nothin’ that makes a -circus man so sick as sissy notions. You know that! But I tell you, -Sime, if he can do a job like that and only holds out now as he’s -commenced, him and me is goin’ to get along fine after this.” - -“He seemed to be feelin’ awful bad when he went into the house,” - remarked Peak, solicitously. - -“I didn’t notice it,” cried Hiram; “well, if that’s the case, he’s got -to be chirked up. I don’t want him to lose any of his grip.” - -And he hurried around the corner and entered the kitchen. - -“What’s the matter, Phin?” he cried, bluffly. “There’s something on -and you might as well out with it. It’s the Looks together against the -world--and you know what the family is!” - -“Enough of that, Hiram!” roared the Squire, thumping the table at which -he sat deep in thought, as his brother came in. Dishes fell off and were -smashed on the floor. He kicked the fragments impatiently. “The Looks -are rowdies, plug-uglies and street brawlers, and we ought to be ashamed -to lift our heads in the presence of decency and refinement. The trouble -with you is, you’re too much of a fool to know that you’re cheap--that -we’re all cheap. That’s the word--cheap!” - -But Hiram’s good nature was not to be disturbed that morning. - -“You’re one of the good old breed, even if you are chewed up just this -minute,” he replied cheerfully. “And whatever’s goin’ on now I’m goin’ -to be in it, Phin, and you can’t shake me. I’m your brother and you -can’t cut me out. Now, what is it?” - -It was not to be resisted, this frank and honest anxiety to be of use, -and the Squire was sorely in need of counsel and aid. With a glance at -the Mayo youth; who was rubbing listlessly away at a saucepan, his misty -and unseeing gaze fixed on the far hills framed in the kitchen windows, -the lawyer drew his brother out of the room into the yard. - -“What’s the matter with your friend, Phin?” inquired the showman. “He -acts like a wax figger with clock-work in him.” - -The lawyer explained rapidly. - -“You ain’t goin’ to stop her, be ye?” asked Hiram when he had listened. - -“I’m not goin’ to let that hound break up that little family,” insisted -the Squire. “Look at that poor, heart-broken boy in that kitchen and -then tell me if he is to be robbed in such a fashion.” - -“Oh, he’ll beller like a new-weaned calf for a day or so,” said Hiram, -calmly. “But he’ll get over it and be better off, like the rest of us,” - he added with bitterness. “I’ll go and tell him a few things and show up -what women are in this world and give him a couple horns of whisky and -in an hour I’ll have him singin’ ‘Glory, hallelujah,’ and glad she’s -gone.” He started away briskly, but the lawyer pulled him back roughly. - -“One member of our family has tried an experiment on that poor devil and -it has half-killed him. Now don’t you go in there and finish the job. -You’re not an expert on heart matters, Hime.” - -“Well, I’ll fetch her back, then,” cried Hiram, unabashed. “You can have -anything you want. It’s only to say the word.” - -The Squire looked at him. - -“Bodfish won’t land her this side of the railroad at Square Harbour, of -course?” asked Hiram. - -“Bodfish isn’t a deep knave,” said the lawyer. “He simply got away early -to avoid observation at this end. He will land her there probably for -the one-o’clock train, west.” - -“Simple matter, then. Telephone the police to arrest her and lock her up -till we come.” - -“And have the scandal and gossip and disgrace spread from here to -Hackenny, and the _Oracle_ and people’s mouths full of it! That would be -saving the reputation of the Mayo family with a vengeance, Hiram.” - -The showman took off his tall hat and fondled the bare spot on his head. - -“Oh, it’s got to be a fly-by-night, come-back-by-dark job, eh?” he -observed. “Disappearin’ lady trick! Touch the button and she’s gone. -Touch the button and back she comes. You only think she’s gone and -she ain’t been gone at all! A very pretty little trick---and thank you -kindly for your attention, ladies and gents, one and all!” - -“It isn’t any time to joke, Hiram,” complained the Squire. “I must ride -across country and get that girl. The old mare can’t do it. Will you -lend me one of your horses?” - -“No.” - -The showman turned a quizzical gaze into his brother’s pained and -puzzled eyes. - -“Now you think I’m a hog, don’t you, Phin? But I ain’t. I’m your brother -Hime, gruff and tough, but always ready in a time of trouble when the -famly’s concerned. Now you just stay here and keep your wax figger in -there from falling down and bustin’ in two and lettin’ all that’s inside -him run out. You understand! You want the celebrated invisible lady -trick worked at Square Harbour, eh? Then you for your job and me for -mine! There are some things that _you_ can’t tell _me_ how to do.” - -He trotted clumsily around the corner and entered into earnest -conversation with Peak on the piazza. Both men hurried to the barn. - -Squire Phin gazed after them with some anxiety. He had often had -good reason to doubt Hiram’s tact. He dreaded to have that hot-headed -individual start on a mission where so much finesse was required. And -yet he hesitated about undertaking the task himself and leaving the -blundering and irresponsible husband to stir up the village, as he -certainly would do if left to his own devices. - -The youth was at the sink, still rubbing the same saucepan. - -“He might stand there till night unless some one poked him,” mused the -Squire. “I must take chances that Hime can manage him while I’m gone. I -can’t let anyone else do the job at the other end. It needs----” - -He had been pondering the matter longer than he had realised. The -tumult of gruff shoutings in the barn and in the rear, where the circus -equipment was stored, in its new building, had been increasing. Now -around the corner of the barn, with clank of whiffle-tree and jingle of -harness and ruck-te-chuck of axle boxes, came one of the vans, smart in -new paint and varnish. Four horses were drawing it. - -Across the yard they came on the trot. Hiram and his friend loomed on -the box, and their plug hats loomed above them. - -“She’ll come back invisible, Phin,” called Hiram, swirling his whip -above his head to uncoil the lash. - -“You’re not going after that girl in any such outlandish fashion,” - roared the Squire, running from the door-stoop. - -“Don’t bother us,” shouted Hiram, and he cracked the lash over the -heads of the rearing leaders. “We’ve got less than four hours to make -twenty-five miles and there ain’t time for conversation. You for your -job, me for mine.” - -The Squire was obliged to leap back out of the way of the plunging -horses. But he ran after the van as it roared down into the road, -yelling appeal and protest. - -“We’ll fix it,” Hiram shrieked over his shoulder as the horses began to -gallop. - -The Squire stopped in the middle of the road, shaking his fists after -the turn-out as it went around the bend at the alders in a cloud of -dust. - -“Fix it, you damnable fool!” he gasped in his impotent rage. “You’ll fix -it forever. Of all the infernal idiots in the way of a brother that a -man ever had! Roaring through Square Harbour with a circus cart and four -horses! Oh! Oh!” - -In his fury--the Look fury of which he was so ashamed--he kicked a stone -out of the soil, picked it up and cast it after the distant van, which -was now far out of sight. - -“A secret errand,” he muttered, blushing at his juvenile act. “It will -be a wonder if he doesn’t get out hand-bills.” - -Avery’s voice behind him made him turn quickly. - -“I’m pesky glad you’ve driv’ the two of ’em out of town,” he said, -with grim satisfaction. “There wa’n’t either of ’em any good to -the place, and I’m sayin’ it to you, even if one of ’em is your own -brother.” - -The Squire walked back into the yard without replying. “Figger-Four” - hopped along beside him. - -“I’ve come up to resign,” he continued. “I wish I could have told him so -to his face. I was goin’ to inform him that I wouldn’t work another -hour for him, not if he was the Great Kajam of Pee-ru and paid me five -dollars a second. He owes me two dollars and a half as it is, and I want -you to collect it for me, Squire.” - -“My brother hasn’t gone away,” snapped the lawyer from the door-stoop. -He wanted the man to leave. - -“If that wa’n’t goin’ away, then what do you call it?” squealed Avery, -snapping up to his full height and pointing his hand at the turn of the -road. “He wasn’t comin’, was he, with his four hosses and his circus -cart?” - -“You go home and keep still,” commanded the Squire. “Hiram will be here -to-morrow and will pay you if he owes you anything.” - -He went into the kitchen and slammed the door. - -“If the Looks can’t act out hogs when they’re a mind to, then I don’t -want a cent,” growled Avery, scowling at the door. “But they ain’t -goin’ to cheat me out of two dollars and a half, not if the court knows -herself, and she thinks she do.” - -After another surly look at the closed door he went around the barn. The -other vans were in their usual place. - -“There’s property enough left. I can sue and attach,” pondered the -creditor. - -“Another thing about Hime, he’s a durn liar,” he went on mumbling. “He’s -been telling me right along that his el’phunt is so much in love with -him that she’d make a kick-up if he went away and left her. She ain’t -makin’ no great stir near as I can see.” - -He peered in through the big door at the rear of the barn. - -Imogene had evidently been roused from her ordinary contemplative and -calm mood by the routing out of the horses and their hasty departure. -She stood now, twitching her ears impatiently and listening with an -occasional hollow grunt of distrust. She peered at the four empty stalls -with uneasiness in her little eyes and surveyed the four horses that -still remained, with something like reassurance. Then she listened some -more. It was evident, even to so obtuse an observer as Avery, that she -was momentarily expecting the showman to come back for the other horses, -and so long as they remained she considered them proof that she was not -abandoned. - -Avery decided that this was so, muttering his convictions to himself as -he stood and watched her. - -“I’m a blame good mind to try her,” he said. “I don’t believe she gives -a tophet for him, any more’n anyone else in the world does. I can prove -him out a liar along with the rest, and I’ll tell the folks so. I’ll run -him into the ground! You watch me! There’s folks that think as how they -can set on Sam Av’ry, but I’ll show ’em that they can’t--not, and keep -their reppytations. I’m only a poor cripple and I can’t fight the way -some folks do, but I’ve got a tongue in my head, and as soon as I’ve -proved some things you jest watch me.” - -Thus soliloquising, he led the four horses, one by one, out of the barn -through the rear door, knotted their halters around their necks and sent -them down into the field with a slap on the flank. They frolicked away, -glad of a run in the open. - -When the last one went out of the barn the elephant said good-bye with -a melancholy “roomp.” She surged once more at her chains and the sill -beams creaked. Then she settled back and eyed Avery hopefully when he -came close to her. - -“He’s allus told me you was more’n half human,” said Avery, addressing -her. “It’s prob’ly more of his lies. I’ve heard him talkin’ to you and -he said you could understand human language. Another lie prob’ly. But if -you can understand, then take this and chaw on it a spell; your man has -run away and them’s his horses gone a-chasin’ after him, as you can -see for yourself. He ain’t never comin’ back any more. He’s robbed four -banks and killed three men and you ought to be ashamed of him. They’re -goin’ to build a treadle for you and make you run a thrash-in’ machine -and earn your livin’. There! If you can understand human talk there’s -something that will int’rest you for a minit or two.” - -He stood back and gazed at her triumphantly. - -The animal had been lifting her feet uneasily for some moments. Now she -gazed out through the door where the horses had disappeared and moaned -pitifully. With the sagacity of a veteran she seemed to sniff the fact -that her master was not on the premises. To assure herself she raised -her trunk and began to trumpet the call that he had always answered. -After each echoing roar she hearkened. No reply came, and each -succeeding appeal was more insistent and more frantic. - -Avery backed to the door with considerable precipitancy. - -The elephant began to crouch and strain at her chains. The old beams -creaked more ominously and there were crackings. - -“I was only foolin’ you, Imogene,” Avery faltered. “He ain’t gone at -all.” - -The elephant stood up on her hind legs and tugged at the chains that -confined her fore feet. One of them snapped. - -“Honest to Gawd!” shouted “Figger-Four.” The situation frightened him. -Palermo with a wild elephant rampant in it would hear of his visit to -the barn and would suspect and blame him. Imogene thrashed about more -viciously. - -“There ain’t a word of truth in what I said about him. He’s right -handy.” But when she snapped one of the hind-leg chains he quavered, “He -was lyin’ to me! She don’t understand what you say to her!”’ - -He ran out to see where the horses were, thinking that their return -might reassure the great beast. But they were far down in the field, -scampering about. There was the “yawk” of drawing nails within, and the -side of the barn shivered. - -“She’s a-goin’ to get loose! She’s goin’ to rip us all to pieces!” - -He hopped around to the front of the barn in the frantic hope that some -kind of aid would present itself. “Hard-Times” Wharff, with an instinct -that never failed when there was trouble on, stood across the road, his -gaze on the barn. - -Then came an inspiration to “Figger-Four.” Since Imogene had settled -in Palermo he had taken especial interest in all literature relating to -elephants. He suddenly remembered an item he had seen in the miscellany -of the county _Oracle_. - -It was stated there that elephants were singularly susceptible to the -soothing influence of music. - -“Have you got your flute along, ’Quarius?” squalled Avery. - -The human weather-vane pulled it out and waved it. - -“Then, for the Lord’s sake, hurry acrost here with it. You may save -lives and property.” - -It was at that moment that Squire Phin realised that something out -of the ordinary was occurring on his premises. He came out of the -kitchen-door just in time to behold “Figger-Four” and “Hard-Times” - hustling around the corner of the barn. A moment later he heard the -melancholy and wavery notes of the flute, and hurried into the barn by -the way of the tie-up door just in time to witness the climax of Avery’s -attempt at elephant-taming. - -“Figger-Four” was holding Uncle Wharff at the big door almost by main -force, and the old man, in spite of his fright, was trying his best to -play. But his goggling eyes were too busy with the distracted Imogene, -who was now occupied with her last leg-chain, which was attached to -an upright beam supporting an end of the scaffold. Amidst her hollow -roarings the feeble tones of the flute wailed like a cricket’s chirpings -in a tornado. - -If anything were needed to add to the exasperation of the desolated -Imogene it was this mocking presence in the barn-door. With a last -plunge she pulled the beam from under the scaffold and made for the -door, sweeping her trunk at the men in her path. But the dragging log -impeded her for a moment until she shook it out of the bight of chain. -Avery and Uncle Wharff rolled over the driveway and crawled under the -barn, and Imogene strode down across the field pursuing the horses. - -“Perhaps I didn’t play the right tune,” the Squire heard “Hard-Times” - gasp under the bam in reply to an angry growl from Avery. But he didn’t -wait to interrogate them. That elephant was abroad, evidently with mind -determined on mischief, and he felt that his first duty was to secure a -band of elephant hunters in the village and start them on the trail. - -When he turned into the street from the yard the parrot vigorously -snapped a bar of his cage and yelled after him, “Hey, Rube!” - -This final and unconscious touch of satire was too much for Squire -Phin’s sense of the ludicrous. He turned in his tracks and surveyed the -old homestead behind the poplars. - -“Headquarters of the Look Brothers’ Grand Consolidated Circus and -Menagerie,” he muttered, a smile creasing his cheeks even while he -frowned. - -“I don’t know whether to laugh, cry or swear damnation!” - -Then he hurried on to round up his elephant posse. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII--THE “COME-UPPANCE” OF CAPTAIN NYMPHUS BODFISH - -OF THE PACKET “EFFORT” - - - “I’m a serious-minded man, - - I have sailed from old Cape Ann - - For fifty years, and I’ve braved as much as ary a mortal can. - - I ain’ afraid of the stormy sea, - - Nor critters that swim it, whatever they be, - - But a witch of a woman is what floors me.” - - --Sea-song of the “Baches of Bucksport.” - - -The Palermo packet, “Effort,” rocked slowly on the refuse-strewn -ooze in her berth at Merrithew’s wharf, Square Harbour, her gray, -weather-streaked sides rubbing at the barnacles on the piles. On the -upper step of her cuddy companionway sat her skipper, Captain Nymphus -Bodfish, rubbing his raspy palm over his bristly gray beard, the little -curls of which were much like barnacles, too. - -“I tell ye, set quiet,” he growled down the companionway. “I ain’t run -packet here for ten years not to know when trains leave or not to know -how to telefoam for a hack when I want one. That hack will be here -ha’f-past twelve and it will get you to the deppo plenty in time.” - -In a little while the complaining whine of a woman’s voice came up the -companionway again. The captain impatiently twitched at a leather chain -and flipped a big silver watch out of his pocket. - -“Ten minits arter twelve, if ye’ve got to know,” he grumbled. “And it -was eight minits arter twelve when you asked before. Now I ain’t no town -clock to set here passin’ down time to ye ev’ry second or two. I say -you’ll get to that deppo. So set quiet.” - -But in a little while the complaining voice came up once more--the voice -of a woman who was hoarse with much weeping. - -“It ain’t no time now to be wishin’ that,” he snapped impatiently. “Your -wishin’ wants to be all done up ahead when you make up your mind to -run away from your husband. It’s all been fixed and arranged and you’ve -agreed to do thus and so, and now there ain’t nothin’ to do but set -quiet, set quiet, I tell you.” - -Rather abstractedly he fingered in his waistcoat pocket and pulled -the corner of a bill above its edge. He noted with fresh satisfaction, -though he had looked at that bill at least a dozen times during the -forenoon, that the figures in the corner were “20.” - -“Yes, it’s all been fixed and arranged,” he repeated with additional -firmness, “and you said you’d go and you’ve gone, so now what is the use -of cry-babyin’?” He craned his neck and looked up the long alley that -led from the wharf to the street. “Hack will prob’ly git here a little -ahead of time,” he muttered, “and I’ll be blamenation glad if it does. -There’s nothin’ so cussed aggravatin’ to have ’round as a woman that -can’t keep her mind set on one thing more’n fourteen seconds at a time. -It will be good riddance when her gown-tail goes over the rail.” Again -the voice complained below. - -“Now I want a puffick understandin’ about this thing,” snarled Captain -Bodfish. “You want to stop whifflin’ back and forth, like a sheet at -come-about, and fill full on one tack or t’other. When that hack comes -you want to be ready to step into it, free will and no caterwaulin’s. I -don’t propose to lug you out. It’s your own bus’ness and ’tain’t mine. -But I’ve contracted to git you to that deppo and you’ve taken par-sage -with that understandin’--and it’s to that deppo that I deliver you. Then -you can go to Tophet, home or Hackenny so soon’s you’re off’n my hands.” - -The voice came promptly when he finished. There was a question. - -“No, s’r! Not a dum word of advice from me,” barked the skipper. “You’ve -rooted your own hole and now you lay in it. I don’t never advise folks -about their own business. If I said to go back to Wat Mayo or said to -run away to where King Bradish is sendin’ you, you’d wish you’d done -t’other, whatever one you done, and then I’d get the blame.” - -He half rose and craned his neck again. It was at the noon hour and the -drays were silent and the hum of business had ceased in the storehouses -along the wharf. In the stillness he heard the rapid roll of some heavy -vehicle on the stones of the street to which the alley admitted. - -“Here comes your hack,” he said. - -The voice rose in shrill protest. - -“Yes, you will _go_, too!” he bawled, angrily. “I ain’t goin’ to have -you left on my hands. It ain’t in the bargain.” - -The next moment four horses swung around the corner into the alley. - -“Jee-hosophat!” whistled the skipper. “They’re sartinly putting on style -in the hackin’ line.” - -Then the van appeared, but it was too far away for Captain Bodfish to -see just what it was. - -“Blast ’em,” he snorted, “I didn’t telefoam for no furnitur’ to be -moved.” He clumped across the deck and stood at the rail, peering under -his palm. - -Captain Nymphus Bodfish of the packet “Effort” had never met Hiram Look, -having scornfully refused to “go up and hang ’round a peep-show.” - He was not familiar, as were his townsmen, with the showman’s vans and -horses. - -His slow comprehension did not connect this apparition in Square Harbour -with anything that could have come out of Palermo. - -“They’re both of ’em wearin’ plug hats,” he soliloquised as the outfit -came rattling down the alley, “but ’tain’t no hearse, painted and -gew-gawed up like that.” - -The equipage made a gallant sweep past the end of the storehouse near -the packet’s berth and halted at the edge of the dock. Hiram leisurely -tucked away his whip in the socket beside the seat, passed the reins to -Peak and jumped to the ground. - -“We didn’t have to waste a minute askin’ the way, Cap,” he remarked, -cheerfully. “I find that the ‘Effort’ puts up at the same old dock, even -if you _are_ a new skipper.” - -“Ain’t anything very new about ten years o’ runnin’,” returned Bodfish, -rather surlily, for the stranger’s easy familiarity nettled him. - -“Well, it makes you new to me,” said Hiram. “Howsomever, I ain’t got -time to swap a great deal of talk.” He pulled out his watch. “I’ve got -thutty-five minutes to git to the station if she ain’t here. If she is -here I want her.” - -Captain Bodfish’s jaw dropped in his astonishment, and his rolling eye -now caught for the first time the lettering on the upper panel of the -van: “Leviathan Circus and Menagerie, H. Look, Prop.” - -“Yes,” went on Hiram, noting the skipper’s gathering scowl, “we’ve come -round by land per the Inlet road, crooked as an angle-worm and up and -down like a dash chum. It took sweat and axle-grease, but we’re here, -Cap, glad to see you and wishin’ you all the compliments of the season. -Now, brief and to the point--is the lady aboard that you took out of -Palermo this mornin’?” - -“None o’ your bus’ness,” replied Captain Bodfish, promptly and -emphatically. - -“Then I’ll come aboard and look. That’ll save me time and you the wear -and tear on your mouth.” - -But Captain Bodfish leaped to the gang-plank and straddled himself -there. - -“No you don’t come aboard no packet o’ mine,” he cried. - -“Oh, then she’s here,” said Hiram. “They’re easy, these mossback -fellers, Sime,” he added, turning to Peak. “It’s the old pickpocket -trick. Jab a jay in the crowd and he flaps his hand onto where he’s -carrying his wallet. Then all you have to do is to pick it.” - -Bodfish’s rage was gathering fast. - -Hiram stepped upon the wharf-end of the plank. - -“I say ye can’t come aboard,” shouted the skipper. “You ain’t no -policeman and you ain’t no custom officer.” He pulled a marline-spike -from a knot of rope at the rail. “You come in reach of me, you circus -man, and I’ll drive that plug hat down so fur oh your shoulders that -folks will have to slice it off with a can-opener.” - -“Ain’t your works gittin’ a little heated?” sarcastically queried Hiram. -“Now, there’s a young woman aboard that bo’t that I’ve come after, and -I’m goin’ to have her. You don’t know me and I don’t know you. You think -you can stop me. I know you can’t. Now you’d better come over to my -opinion of the case, Cap’n Nymp’ Bodfish, and save further wear and -tear.” - -But the irate captain only stepped out on the plank and whirled his -spike. “You ain’t got your pitchfork to-day, and you ain’t got no Klebe -Willard to deal with, either.” - -“No, but I’ve got my grapplers,” shouted Hiram, and before the skipper -could stir stump he snapped forward, grabbed the gang-plank and jerked -it toward him. At the same time he tipped it and the captain of the -“Effort” went down ’longside with a “kerplunko” that sent the turbid -water above the wharf’s edge like the spout of a geyser. Hiram made two -bounds, one to the rail and one to the deck. - -“Here, Mayo woman,” he cried, as he clumped down the companionway into -the dim cabin, “no arguments, no back talk.” - -He seized her by the arm, rushed her up the steps and to the rail, -and fairly tossed her across the space to the wharf, over the head of -Captain Bodfish, who was blowing water from his mouth and nose, and -clambering painfully up the side of the craft. - -“You ain’t cool yet. Take another dip,” cried Hiram, and he put his -broad boot down on Bodfish’s head and sent him under again. - -The girl swayed dizzily on the wharf, but the showman had her in his -grasp the next moment. He noted a hack bowling down the wharf and -persons were sauntering that way, attracted by the unusual spectacle of -a circus van. Without a moment’s hesitation he half-carried the woman to -the rear of the van, threw open the double doors, pushed her in on some -blankets that were spread on the floor, and closed and padlocked the -opening. She was uttering sharp cries, but he put his mouth close to the -crack and growled at her: - -“You’re goin’ home, you little fool. But if you let one more yip out of -you I’ll deliver you to the first policeman I meet and tell him you’re -an eloper. Then it’s State prison for you.” - -Her cries ceased and Hiram turned a bland face to the persons who had -come up. - -Captain Bodfish had regained his vessel and was sitting on the rail, -dragging the water out of his eyes with his knuckles, and panting for -breath. The showman forestalled any compromising accusations. He went -close to the edge of the wharf, leaned over and said: - -“Cap, you can’t afford to open your mouth. I can have you tarred and -feathered here in ten minutes if I let the crowd in on what you’ve tried -to do. I’m a son of a seacook on handlin’ a crowd.” - -The skipper unclosed and shut his mouth like a fish, but he realised the -force of that warning. - -Hiram went along and prepared to climb back upon his seat. As he set his -toe on the hub one of the crowd inquired suspiciously: - -“If it ain’t a sassy question, mister, what was that critter that you -was putting into the cart here? We heard it squawkin’, but we couldn’t -see very well.” Hiram, his success making him amiable, smiled upon the -bystanders. - -“Gents, I am both pleased and proud to tell you that I have now in this -van one of the most beautiful specimens of the five-finned American -mermaid that was ever captured on our stem and rock-bound coast.” - -The zeal of the barker entered his spirit. It had been a long time since -he had faced an audience. - -“This stupendous attraction, gents, that has just been secured for -Look’s Leviathan Menagerie is the only living specimen of the American -Mermaidissus in captivity to-day. She has flowing hair in which she -wraps herself as in a mantle of the purest silk, and she is fresh from -the royal courts of the king of the seas. She was captured off our -aforesaid rocky coast by the bravest sailor that ploughs the ocean -blue”--Bodfish was edging through the crowd, his face working with -mighty wrath that he did not dare to give rein to. The showman beamed -on him. “Yes, gents, captured in a single-handed conflict by that brave -sailor, Cap’n Nymphus Bodfish, of the ‘Effort.’ And now he will be -pleased to give you full particulars of that gigantic struggle in the -waters of old ocean. As for me I shall have to be movin’ on to where -immense and delighted audiences await me.” - -He started to climb over the wheel, tipping a wink at Peak, and the -crowd turned open-mouthed to Bodfish. The instant the showman’s back was -turned that infuriated individual rushed forward, dealt Hiram a mighty -kick, and when the showman turned, bonneted him in his tall hat, and -then ran like a deer off the wharf and across the decks of a nest of -fishing schooners that were packed in at one of the docks. - -Hiram worked off his hat and straightened it, gazing after the fleeing -Bodfish without a word. But his face was gray and rigid with rage. Then -he climbed to his seat and gazed afresh on the skipper, scuttling across -the decks. - -“Aforesaid brave and intrepid sailor seems to have had his brain -turned by his wonderful success as a mermaid capturer,” he grated. -“It--it’s----” he choked and paused. “It’s too bad!” he managed to growl -at last, and then snatched the reins from Peak’s hands and drove off up -the alley at a stiff pace, leaving a very much mystified crowd behind -him. - -“We’ll get out of this place as soon as pullin’ the braid and pushin’ -the webbin’ will do it,” he said to Peak as the van turned into the -dingy shore street of Square Harbour. “Ev’ry one here has got eyes hung -out on their cheeks like lobsters have,” he went on, glowering at the -people on the sidewalks. His amiability had departed suddenly. - -“What ye goin’ to do to old Tarfinger?” asked Peak, who fully understood -what the showman was thinking about. - -“It’s goin’ to take a good deal of prayer and meditation to plan it out, -Sime,” replied Hiram, slowly and menacingly. “Do you think that many of -them critters that stood round there knew who I was?” - -“Ain’t your name on this cart bigger’n a fat woman sign on a side-show -banner?” - -Hiram ground his teeth. - -“There was a man kicked me once,” he related slowly, “and there wasn’t -no outsiders see him do it, either. And that man--but I ain’t any hand -to brag, Sime. All I say is that such a case as this needs prayer and -meditation, and a lot of it.” - -They rode on in silence. There was no sound from within. - -“We’ll stop up-country at some farmer’s place and bait,” said Hiram at -last, “and we’ll get into Palermo after dark. The invisible lady trick -will be played all right and there’s that much to say, but--I never -was kicked before in the face and eyes of a public audience, to have it -talked about from Clew to Erie and laughed over, and him get away! Oh, -it ain’t no common case, Sime. Don’t talk to me. Let me meditate.” - -Therefore the ride along the highway that swept up around the broad -Inlet was one devoted wholly to introspection, both without and within -the rumbling van. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV--THE PACT OF “ORPHAN HILL” - -AND THE DIVAGATIONS OF DISCONSOLATE IMOGENE - - - “I’ tell you ’bout that, mare of mine--the more you holler ‘whoa!’ - - I’ve taught the whelp to clench her teeth and h’ist her tail and go! - - And when we got clus’ down to Clark’s, I thought for jest a sell, - - I’d make believe we’d run away. So I began to yell, - - And old man Pease he hugged his knees and gaffled to his pail, - - And now, my boy, purraps you think that turn-out didn’t sail! ” - - --“Narrative of Bart of Brighton. - - -In the mid-afternoon Hiram checked his weary horses on the swell of a -hill that overlooked a placid reach of farms. - -“I guess we’ll stop and provender up at that first house, there, Sime,” - he stated. “I’m ’bout starved, and I reckon the plugs are, too. You -hold the reins a minute whilst I lay down a little law to the invisible -lady.” - -He threw open the rear doors and surveyed the swollen and tear-streaked -features of ’Missy Mayo. She met his gaze for a moment only, and then -began to sob again. - -“Ashamed of yourself, ain’t you?” the showman demanded. - -She bobbed woful assent with her head and crooked her arm before her -face. - -“Women,” pursued Hiram, relentlessly, “are ostriches when they ain’t -wild-cats, and from me that knows ’em all and that’s been scratched -criss-cross by wild-cats and has owned ostriches and had a nat’rally -sweet and affectionate disposition soured by women’s actions, you can -take that say-so as gospel. It ain’t no advance agent’s talk. I’ve been -with the main show, and I _know_. You’re an ostrich. Take your head out -from under the chip and look at me.” - -She obeyed, huddling herself on her knees on the blankets. - -“I know just what you are goin’ to tell me if I begin to ask you -questions,” he said. “You’ll take on like a kitten with her tail in a -crack and tell me you are so, _so_ sorry and that you’ll never do it -again, and that he promised you nice dresses and di’mond rings and -nothin’ to do except to let your poor, dear, oopsy-soopsy little hands -grow white, and so you couldn’t help yourself, and you tried to be good -and love your husband and stay at home, and you couldn’t, so there!” - -“But I do love my husband,” she sobbed. “And that man did say all those -things to me, and he did say I had broken up my husband’s home with his -people and that they all hated me, and that my poor Wat would be better -off if I were to go away.” - -“And so you thought it all over and cried off by yourself and planned -how noble it would be for you to leave him to be happy ever after, with -his folks boarding him, and you would go away into the wide, wide world -and sacrifice yourself just as that wife did that you’d read about who -went backward outdoors into the night with her black hood on--they allus -wear black hoods--waving her hands and sending back kisses toward the -bedroom where her husband was sleepin’, and sayin’, ‘Farewell, I go to -save thee!’ That was jest the whole story, wa’n’t it?” - -“Oh, Mr. Look,” began the girl, eagerly, “that was the truth of it--you -do know it all--you can appreciate----” - -“Shut up,” roared the showman; “talk about prohibiting the sale of rum -in this State,” he snarled, glancing up at Peak; “they ought to make it -a jail crime to sell a dime novel to a woman unless she’s got cross eyes -and a club foot and a hare-lip--and then it wouldn’t allus be safe to -let her have one of ’em. There’s more cussedness sucked up out of one -of them such novels than you can get through straws at a bar. Now, Mrs. -Ostrich, I ain’t got any time to stand here and tell you how many kinds -of a byjoosly fool you are, for there’s a team li’ble to come along any -minute. But I’m goin’ to tell you sometime, and I’ve seen enough of -the world and of cheap renegades of men to make your hair curl when you -think what you’ve got out of. It’s me that’s goin’ to take you home in -this cart--and it’s me that thought up this way of gettin’ you there -without ev’rybody knowin’ that you run away and left your husband.” - -The wife dragged herself on her knees to the opening and clasped her -hands. - -“Mr. Look,” she wailed, “it’s all true what you say. But I ain’t ever -had any mother that I can remember. I didn’t have anyone to tell me the -things that a girl ought to know. I don’t blame you for talking hard -to me. I deserve it. But I want to do right. Indeed, I do, Mr. Look. If -you’ll take me home I’ll always stay there. I’m hungry to stay there. -Oh, how I’ve wished I hadn’t gone--wished so all this long day and I’ve -cried my eyes out wishing so. I know I don’t love anyone but my husband. -Take me back to him, Mr. Look, and I’ll never want to be anything but a -true wife to him again--never, never, never!” - -Her fluttering hands grasped the sides of the van and she leaned her -convulsed face toward him. - -“So your mother died when you was young?” Hiram inquired. His tone had -softened. - -“I never knew who my mother was.” - -“Mine died and left me under fourteen and Phin a baby,” said the -showman, looking off across the fields and blinking his eyes. “It’s sort -of--sort of startin’ anyone back-handed into the world without a mother -to kind of walk hand in hand with up to where the paths split. Bad for a -man, worse for a woman.” - -There was silence for a little time, except for the girl, who sobbed -with quick indrawings of the breath. - -“Let’s see, Sime,” said Hiram, trying to keep his voice steady and -matter-of-fact, “I ain’t ever asked you how it was with your fam’ly. Was -you brought up by a mother?” - -“I was bound out from an orphan asylum when I was eight,” replied the -giant, turning away his face and fingering the seam of a patch on -his knee. “A farmer took me and he made me wear pants made out of a -butcher’s frock, and I never got but five weeks’ schoolin’, ’cause I -couldn’t stand ’em laughin’ at me.” - -“Three of us pretty much of a stripe,” sighed the showman. “Each of -us with an out of some kind. Nothin’ to be proud of, any of us. Can’t -expect much else, maybe! I tell ye, Sime, I know how you felt about the -school bus’ness. After they folded mother’s hands--and I can see ’em -folded now just as I did when I tiptoed into the settin’-room where -they’d laid her out--I didn’t have no more jelly tarts to set out on the -desk when I opened my dinner-pail at school, and I used to stay in -at recess so that the girls couldn’t see the holes in the seat of my -pants.” - -He stood and looked away and fingered the folds of skin on his wrinkled -neck as though there were an ache there. - -“I’m glad to believe,” he said softly and brokenly, “that God ain’t mean -enough to let dead mothers ever know how their little gaffers get along -after their mother hands are folded and they can’t ’tend and do any -longer.” - -After a little time he turned to the wife, and his eyes were wet. - -“I ain’t all hard spots, sissy,” he affirmed impulsively. “Most often -it’s the softest places that have the hardest calluses over ’em. I’m a -pretty soft old fool, myself. Most think I ain’t, but I am. I’ve made my -mistakes and they was bad ones. Sime, there, has made just as bad ones -as me. You’ve made yours, sissy, but don’t make any more--don’t!” - -He patted her cheek with a tenderness that no one ever saw before in -Hiram Look. - -“We’ve sort of found out each other all at once. Let’s call this place -here ‘Orphan Hill’ and always remember it. Let’s kind of brace from now -on. We can’t be angels, none of us. We’ve been too much handicapped. But -we can brace!” - -He didn’t seem to dare to trust himself to talk any longer, but closed -the doors on the girl and called to her that she must be very quiet -while the van stood in the farmer’s yard, explaining that he would -secure food for her. - -Then he perched himself beside Peak and drove on, each busy with his own -thoughts. - -The woman of the house promptly appeared at the door when the van swung -into the yard. - -“Well, it’s best for you that you did stop on your way back,” she -snapped. “You never paid a single mite of attention to me when you went -past this morning, but kept goin’ like the mill-tail of Tophet. I said -to my husband that peddlers’ teams was gettin’ pretty stuck up, prancin’ -past with four horses and not payin’ no attention when, a lady comes -to the door sacking a bag of rags. Now here they be. Have you got your -st’ilyards? I suppose you have and that you cheat as much as----” - -“That woman seems to be the open-faced, self-windin’ kind,” Hiram -growled to Peak through the corner of his mouth. Then he interrupted -her. - -“You’d better buy a good pair of far-sighted specs from the next peddler -that comes along this way, marm,” he suggested with some insolence. -“You’ll be able to tell the diff’rence, then, between a tin rag peddler -or a rag tin peddler, or whatever you call ’em, and two gentlemen -ridin’ out for pleasure to take the air. Now, to come to bus’ness--will -you sell me a baitin’ for my horses, and three lunches--two to be et on -the spot and one to be took away?” - -Her first impulse, evidently, was to refuse this blunt request. But -Hiram waved a bill at her. She called a freckled youth from the barn and -continued to stare at the vehicle and the two strangers. - -When the boy led away the horses, after Hiram and Peak had unhooked -them from the cart, the woman broke her silence and there was suppressed -excitement in her tones. - -“I’ve got you placed. You’re the circus man that’s come back to live -down to P’lermo, and this is one of your carts, and you’ve come up here -to help catch that dratted el’phunt that’s been rampagin’ ’round here -since noon. You ain’t come none too soon, Mr. Circuser. You’ll have a -nice bill to pay in this neighbourhood--and you can start right in by -settlin’ with us first of all. You come here, the two of ye.” - -In silent amazement the men followed her around the ell. - -“There’s where he come through,” she rasped, pointing to two lengths of -a picket fence laid flat; “there’s where he went out.” On the opposite -side of the garden more lengths of fence were cast down. “Half the -pickets busted where he stepped on ’em! Three of our little Sopsyvine -trees knocked down, and there--look there!” - -She had evidently reserved this climax. She pointed to the slope of a -little hillock. - -“Two webs of ‘Fruit of the Loom’ that was bleach-in’, all trampled and -torn and gurried up! A ding-blamed el’phunt and a dozen men skyhootin’ -acrost herer without aye, yes or no and not payin’ the least attention -to anything underfoot! I say if you’re the circus man from P’lermo -you’ve got a good nice bill to settle in these parts.” - -“_My_ elephant!” demanded Hiram, amazedly, tapping himself with his -knuckles on his breast and staring from Peak to the woman. - -“I don’t know of any other fool that’s keepin’ el’phunts for pets or -raisin’ ’em for market,” she retorted. “If an old gray gob o’ meat -with ragged ears and dirty feet as big as saucepans--as you can see by -the smooches on my unbleached cotton--is your el’phunt, then it _is_ -your el’phunt with a passul of howlin’ men after him, and my husband -chasin’ off along with the rest instead of stayin’ here and protectin’ -his home and his wife.” - -“Do you suppose it’s Imogene got away?” gasped Hiram, staring at Peak. - -“Well, for a guess I should say it was,” replied that friend, -unconsolingly. “Elephants are not as common as woodchucks around here.” - -The two men stared away up the hillock and across the field to the fence -that bordered it. There was no need of asking the woman the course of -the parade. A huge gap in the fence and torn bushes in the adjacent -woodlot marked the route. - -“I consider that a man that introduces el’phunts into a quiet country -neighbourhood is worse than he would be if he put damanite bumbs under -folks’ houses,” sputtered the woman. - -“You just shut your mouth for a minute and let me think, will ye?” - roared Hiram. “Sime,” he went on after a little reflection, “you’ve -got to go along with the--the----” He saw the woman’s eyes fixed on -him inquisitively and he checked himself. “You deliver the goods,” he -directed, “right to Phin and he’ll do the rest. Get along just as -soon as the horses are baited and don’t forget the lunch for the--the -gayzelle,” he added for the benefit of the curious woman. “I’ll take -my grub in my hand and chase up Imogene. There’s no knowin’ what them -farmers will da with her if I don’t. Here’s a two-dollar bill,” he -said hastily to the woman. “That’s lib’ral pay for three lunches and -hoss-baitin’.” - -“I never heard of gay-zelles eatin’ lunch,” she said, suspicion in her -tones. “I s’pose you’ve got a wild man o’ Borneo in that cart to let -loose on us next.” - -“It’s no matter what we’ve got,” retorted Hiram. “You give me my grub in -my hand and let me get away.” - -He went stamping into the kitchen and she foh lowed him with some -apprehension. Five minutes later he trotted at his best gait across -the field along the trail of Imogene and her pursuers, munching ham -sandwiches and scattering crumbs upon the breeze. - -A stern chase is always a long one, and after Hiram had crossed the -woodlot he found himself on a parallel road where there were still other -indignant women and clamorous farmers to shake off when they hailed him -as the presumptive owner of the fugitive elephant and sought to collect -damages. - -“A Kansas cyclone is a kitten beside of her,” he muttered as he surveyed -one scene of devastation after another and hurried on. - -“Them farmers must be aggravatin’ Imogene something awful to make her -cut up this way. But I don’t blame her. If I had a trunk and weighed -twenty-seven hundred pounds I’d smash down what she ain’t finished up. -She and me agrees on farmers.” - -So, scattering right and left profanity and promises to settle, he -toiled on, his tall hat in his hand and the perspiration streaming -down his face. There was no such thing as keeping the trail in a team. -Through copses and meadows, down water-courses and valleys and across -farm dooryards the animal had led her pursuers. The trail was devious, -too, as though Imogene, harassed on all sides, had kept turning, either -to attack or dodge. In one place a considerable array of various samples -of trousers cloth fluttering from a barbed wire fence indicated that -there had been a hasty retreat. Hiram stopped and surveyed this scene -with grim satisfaction. - -“You pocketed ’em in this corner, dum ’em,” he muttered. “Bully for -you, old gal!” - -The showman, in his many twistings and turnings along the trail, stopped -taking note of his general direction of progress, and just before dusk, -leg-weary and panting, found himself coursing down a hillock that -was strangely familiar. He suddenly stopped in the midst of trampled, -tattered and bedraggled cotton sheeting and stared about him. He had -come’ back to the place where he had started on the chase and for a -moment thought he had unconsciously crossed his own trail somewhere and -had followed back. A woman’s voice, shrill with anger, hailed him from -the ell window. - -“’Tain’t enough, is it, for your tarnation old el’-phunt to hooroosh -over our primises once, but she and her rag-tag must come back and -slambang through again!” - -The farmer came out of the barn, mopping his brow. - -“They ain’t five minutes ahead of ye,” he said. “I should ’a’ kept -right on chasin’, but I had to stop off and do my chores. I reckon -they’ll catch her pretty quick. She’s about beat out.” - -Hiram slouched down the hill, puffing. - -“But there ain’t no use in ’em catchin’ her,” continued the farmer. -“It will be like catchin’ smallpox. You can’t do nothin’ sensible with -it when you do get it.” - -“If you infernal fools would let her alone she’d be all right and go -home,” bellowed Hiram over his shoulder as he leaped across the highway -fence and began to run with his last remaining strength. - -A quarter of an hour later, after struggling in the dusk through an -alder swamp, he came out in the rear of some farm buildings. He saw men -sprinkled in straggly line about a barn, men who leaned on pitchforks -and clubs and guns. - -“Where is she?” he shouted at the first man he came across--an -individual who was scratched by bushes and brambles and whose blue, -drilling overalls hung about him in shreds. - -“Ain’t much need of askin’ that if you’ll listen a minit,” returned the -elephant hunter surlily. - -From the bam came frantic neighings of horses and melancholy lowings -of cows. An occasional crash, rattle or clatter indicated that either -Imogene was trying to get comfortably into a safe shelter, in spite of -the interference of farming tools, or that the terrified inmates were -struggling to get out. - -In the house a woman could be heard plaintively mourning, once in a -while her voice breaking into a scream as some fresh and louder tumult -sounded in the barn. - -“That’s the widder Abilene Snell that owns this stand,” explained the -man solemnly. “She was jest gittin’ over the hysterics she had this -noon. Us and el’phunt was here once before this to-day. She’s an awful -high-strung woman. I shouldn’t wonder if this second trip would fix -her.” - -The showman did not hesitate. - -He clapped his hat on his head and rushed into the barn. The men flocked -together, the word having passed that Hime Look had at last arrived to -claim his own. - -For a little space there was utter silence in the barn---Imogene -evidently listening in an attempt to determine whether this new arrival -were friend or foe. Then there sounded joyful trumpetings as the -exhausted and frightened animal recognised her master. The men could -hear Hiram’s voice soothing her, and after a time he appeared at the -tie-up door. - -“I’ve got another time and place,” he said, addressing them as they came -crowding up to him, “for tellin’ you all what I think of a parsul of men -that will chase a poor elephant nearly to death. I ain’t goin’ to tell -you now. I’ve been runnin’ too long. I ain’t got breath enough. When I -start in to tell you I shall need a lot of it.” - -“Well, we got your brother Phin’s word to come after her,” said one -of the bystanders, sulkily. “There ain’t any of us got any partic’lar -relish for an el’phunt bee, but we come ’cause he asked us to.” - -“You may be good barn-raisers,” returned the showman angrily, “but what -you snoozers don’t know about elephants would make up the most that’s so -about ’em.” - -Several women came to the door of the house and one of the men called to -them: - -“Tell Mis’ Snell that the man that owns the animile has come to git her. -There ain’t no more danger.” - -The mournings within ceased promptly and a plump and fair matron -appeared among the women on the door-stoop. - -“What have you got to say for yourself, lettin’ loose such critters -to ruin and destroy?” she demanded, with the ready and hot anger that -succeeds fright. - -Hiram, still framed in the tie-up door, took off his hat gallantly. - -“It ain’t any doin’s of mine, marm,” he said. “Prob’ly a kinder or -sweeter-tempered elephant than Imogene is has never teased for peanuts -over a guard-rope. But it don’t improve no dispositions to be chased by -a pack of goramuses--it wouldn’t improve your disposition, it wouldn’t -improve mine.” - -“Don’t you go to classin’ me with your menagerie, yourself included,” - she snapped. “What I want to know is, who’s goin’ to pay me for the -damage that’s been done here to-day? It ain’t goin’ to be no shillin’ -and a thank-ye settlement, now, I can tell ye that.” - -Hiram came out of the tie-up door and trudged forward a few steps. - -“I’m a widder, but you needn’t think you are goin’ to jew me one cent’s -wuth,” she flung at him. - -“I’ve got forty thousand dollars in the bank, and I don’t care who knows -the same,” retorted Hiram, “and I stand good for all bills incurred by -me or Imogene--now don’t you forget that for a second.” - -He started across the yard toward the widow, for this arm’s-length -conversation, with so many eavesdroppers, annoyed him. The persecuted -Imogene had been trying to squeeze through the narrow alley from the -barn floor. Now that she had recovered her friend and defender she did -not propose to lose him again. With an eagerness candid and child-like, -she sought safety at his side. - -“I want you to understand that though I’m a widder I ain’t without -friends and protectors,” said Mrs. Snell. “The bill for damages will be -sent to Cap’n Nymphus Bodfish, at P’lermo, and he’ll have full power to -act for me. And now if you’ll take your el’phunt in tow and git off my -primises I’ll be much obleeged to you. I’ve been through all I want to -for one day.” - -The name of Bodfish acted on the showman almost galvanically. - -“Him,” he muttered, “settle with him? Not by a----” - -He strode across the yard. - -“You and me----” He began, but at that instant Imogene, who had heard -his voice in the space before the barn, whirled from her attempt to -squeeze through the tie-up and crashed out through the big doors. With -screams the women jammed back into the entry and slammed the door. The -men in the yard ran in all directions. - -“Go back, Imogene!” the showman shouted wrathfully, but the anxious -beast ambled sidewise toward him, waving her trunk appealingly. - -He jumped at her and threw up his arms. She stopped and gazed -reproachfully, and came toward him again. - -“I say, she won’t hurt a soul,” he shouted, but the women kept up their -clamour in the house, and the men were hidden in the dusk. Then his -anger wreaked itself on the only thing in sight--and that was the amazed -Imogene. - -There was a pile of fitted wood in the yard, and he began to bombard her -with it. She retreated a few steps, and then bowing her devoted head, -received the missiles meekly, yet with an evident determination to stay -that touched the showman’s heart. - -“Poor old gal,” he muttered, “you’re worth all the rest put together. -But there ain’t no Widder Snell goin’ to pass me and my bus’ness along -to Cap Nymp’ Bodfish, and if this is the place where that old wharf-rat -thinks he’s goin’ to nest in the sweet by-and-by--well, no man ever -kicked me in the face and eyes of the public before!” - -He set his teeth with obstinate resolve and walked up and rapped on the -widow’s door. When it was not opened to him he pushed vigorously, -and two women who had been holding it ran away into the sitting-room, -screaming that the elephant was coming. - -But it was only Hiram who appeared to the terrified widow, backed into a -corner and surrounded by her retinue of comforters. - -“Mis’ Snell,” said Hiram, bowing low and striving for an especial -purpose of his own to put his best foot forward, “a man ain’t to be -judged by first appearances nor while standin’ in a dooryard in the dark -tryin’ to handle an elephant that’s been scared to death by tomrotted -fools. Now, I can see that you’re a lady that’s used to the world and -that’s too polite and ladylike to refuse to have an understand when a -gentleman comes to you humbly like I do.” - -He noted the little flush on the widow’s fair cheek and reflected that -Captain Bodfish displayed eminent good taste. - -“I hope it won’t ever be said of me that I didn’t know my manners,” - replied Mrs. Snell, with pride, but visibly affected by Hiram’s gallant -admiration and homage. - -“And as it is allus best when talkin’ private and personal bus’ness -to make that bus’ness strickly personal and private,” continued Hiram, -bowing to the women, who now stood back from the widow, “I feel that -I ain’t askin’ too great a favour from you, Mis’ Snell, if you could -arrange it so that we could have the room to ourselves.” - -The women retired to the kitchen with no very good grace. - -As Hiram began to speak there was a queer fumbling and rustling at the -window, and the widow turned and with difficulty repressed a cry. There -stood Imogene, with the lamp-light touching the broad head pushed close -to the glass. She was blinking appealing eyes, and with the “thumb” of -her trunk was feeling along the sash in an aimless, selfconscious way. - -“Now, marm,” expostulated the showman, “that elephant is tamer than a -tab cat, ’cause a cat will scratch and that elephant wouldn’t harm -a hair--a single spear of your--your--” (Hiram let it come out, but -bashfully)--“your pretty head. It’s affection that brings her to that -window--affection for me. She’s the only one in the world that cares a -rap for me--but it shows that I ain’t all bad when an animile can love -me like that.” - -He sighed and the widow looked at him with new interest. She apparently -forgot the elephant at the window, and in a few minutes she certainly -had forgotten Imogene’s presence, for she was leaning forward toward -Hiram and listening intently. - -The women were listening as intently at the crack of the kitchen door, -but Hiram spoke low and rapidly and they could not understand. But the -interview must have altered Mrs. Snell’s opinion of Hiram Look, for at -the end of half-an-hour she came to the kitchen door and said: - -“I wish you’d plan to stay here with me to-night, Nellie.” - -The young woman assented. - -“My nerves ain’t jest all right yet,” continued the widow, and then she -looked them all boldly in the eye, though her cheeks were red, “and I’ve -asked Mr. Look to stop all night and put his elephant in the barn. -It would be an awful traipse for him to travel ’way back to P’lermo -to-night, and I really feel that I could get to like elephants, he has -talked to me so nice about ’em.” - -She went to a cupboard in a corner, took down a box of sweetmeats, -carried them into the sitting-room, and, to the inexpressible horror -of the women, shoved up the window at which Imogene was still wistfully -fumbling. With fingers that trembled at first she dropped a few bits of -the candy into the animal’s moist “porringer,” and Imogene tucked them -into her mouth and munched with supreme satisfaction. The widow fed the -candy to the last bit, manifestly enjoying the comments on her bravery. - -Then she carried the lantern to the barn when Hiram led the elephant -away to domicile her for the night. - -“I don’t want to draw no wrong conclusions nor do anyone wrong in my -thoughts,” said Mrs. Wes Johnson, on her way home that evening, speaking -to a woman who walked with her. “But if I was any judge I should say -that Cap’n Nymphus Bodfish better be lookin’ to his buttons in a certain -quarter.” - -“By the style she spit out there before us all tonight, you might think -her intentions was serious toward him,” commented the other. - -“I know they’re serious,” replied the other with decision. “Nymp’ has -made his brags already, and I’m knowin’ to it that she’s been havin’ -extra sewin’ done.” - -“You don’t s’pose she’d mitten him now, do you?’ asked the other in -horrified tones. - -“Well, I don’t want to wrong nobody,” said Mrs Johnson, “but if I was -goin’ to say, I shouldn’t be that Cap Nymp’ Bodfish would get Abby Snell -till I see ’em comin’ down the aisle together. I tell ye, when a man’s -got forty thousand to put into the bank ’side of the twenty thousand -that Number One left to ye, a woman does a little second-thought -thinkin’.” - -The Widow Snell stayed awake a long time that night, listening to the -distant rumble of Hiram’s snores shuddering under the door of the best -room. Possibly she was fulfilling Mrs. Johnson’s prediction about second -thoughts. - - - - -CHAPTER XV--SOME OF THE POSSIBILITIES IN A “CORNET BRASS BAND” - -AS FIGURED BY ITS PROMOTER, HIRAM LOOK - - - Open order and forward march! - - Major in bearskin and stiffer than starch, - - Knees like a thoroughbred--he’s the kind! - - And all the musicianers marchin’ behind, - - Then poum-ta-roum! Oh, ain’t it grand - - To march with the Atkinson Full Brass Band? - - --From “Village Ballads.” - - -When Hiram turned in at the dooryard of the Look place next day it was -late in the afternoon, and he was riding in the rear of a farmer’s beach -waggon, his long legs dangling over the tail-board. Imogene followed -docilely at the end of a rope, her affectionate gaze on her master. - -Squire Phin and Peak, who had been sitting on the porch, came along to -greet the new arrival and congratulate him. - -“Well, it’s taken leg-work a lot and head-work a lot,” said Hiram with -a sigh of relief as he slid stiffly down from his perch. “Look-a-there!” - He pointed to the horse that had drawn the waggon. “Had two runaways and -one smash-up before I got that invented.” - -Two saplings were lashed to the thills and extended beyond the bit-rings -through which they were thrust. The horse was unable to turn his head to -look behind, and for further precaution the apprehensive country youth -who drove had tied his ragged coat around the animal’s head like a -muffler. - -“I never saw a section, hoss-kind and human-kind both, get so -foolish over one mild and inoffensive elephant before,” Hiram went on -disgustedly. “I should have been home before this, but I stayed and -squared up. Went along the whole trail and, as you might say, settled -damages along the right o’ way. They ain’t got no kick comin’. Ain’t -that so, son?” he demanded, addressing the youth on the seat. - -“I don’t see how anyone could be any perficker a gent,” said the driver, -warmly. “Our folks lost a row and a half of nurs’ry stock and one cosset -lamb stepped on and squashed, and Mr. Look just up and slapped what it -come to right down into dad’s fist, with a half a dollar extry for a -laylock bush that we didn’t make no account of. And at Abby Snell’s, -where the most damage was done, why, you jest ought to hear Abby -tell----” - -“Well, that’s all right, son,” interrupted Hiram, hastily. “All is I -wanted to stand square up that way, and give the gossips a chance to -chaw on something sweet ’stead of something sour.” He handed the youth -a silver dollar. “That’s for yourself, son,” he said, “and now you’d -better be hustling for home ‘fore dark.” He looked more comfortable when -the waggon went clattering away under the elms. - -“I guess what they don’t know about Abby Snell down this way jest yet -awhile won’t hurt ’em any,” he muttered as he led away Imogene into -the barn, and into the companionship of the eight horses once more -assembled. “Sime is such a soft old fool he would think I am in love, -and Phin would pitch into me on account of my temper for gittin’ even, -the same as he allus does.” - -“Hiram,” said his brother, when the showman joined the two men on the -porch, “I want to ask your pardon for trying to stop you yesterday. Mr. -Peak has told me how you managed at the other end. At this end it all -worked to perfection. Wat Mayo only knows that she _ran_ away on account -of a mistaken notion that she would be helping him, and that she loved -him too much to _stay_ away.” - -“There’s mighty few cases where women’s concerned when judicious lyin’ -ain’t a benefit all ’round,” said Hiram, lighting his cigar. - -“It’s only the strong natures that want and can stand the whole truth,” - replied the Squire, sighing. “I did what I thought was for the best.” - -“He’s a cosset and allus will be and you warmed his milk for him,” - snorted Hiram. “That’s all right! You ain’t done anything wrong. Any -other kind of feedin’ would give him an attack of love-colic that would -tie him up into knots so that he’d never get untangled.” - -He smoked in silence for a little while. - -“Ain’t there any ding-blasted thing in this world that the critter knows -how to do?” he demanded. “There’s no young and pretty girl that’s goin’ -to stay very hard in love with a swipe in a liv’ry stable, no matter how -she tries. I pity the poor little gaffer, Phin. We had a talk together -on the road--me and her and Sime here. I ain’t all bristles, Phin. I’d -do somethin’ for the feller if I could--anything short of charity, and -I’ll be cussed if I’ll give money to an able-bodied man that’s able to -earn it. She’d hate him then, if there’s anything to her, and if she -didn’t I’d hate her--and there you have it. Gad! I don’t understand how -a chap can grow to be over twenty-one and not know how to do some one -thing.” - -“If his folks had taught him to play a fiddle instead of a cornet,” said -the Squire, “he might have been able to fiddle for dances and earn an -oyster supper and a dollar-fifty once in a while, as old Eb Lancaster -does.” - -“Does the Mayo boy know how to play the cornet?” asked Hiram, with -reviving interest. - -“His folks paid that bandmaster, that has his summer cottage down on -Prout’s Point, two hundred dollars and over for lessons to Wat.” - -“But can he _play?_” persisted Hiram. - -“How should I know?” snapped the Squire impatiently. “All I know is he -near drove me crazy with his practising--and nigh every one else in the -village.” But after a moment he went on with gentler tone: - -“Yes, Hiram, some of the men around here who understand such things say -that Wat Mayo plays wonderfully well. I remember that the bandmaster -used to brag about him, but what with folks jawing about the noise he -made, and his natural laziness, he hasn’t done anything with it. And -a bulldog might as well try to chew with a set of store teeth as a man -start out to earn a living in Palermo with a cornet.” - -“Well, he’ll earn one from now on,” said Hiram. - -The two men stared at him. - -“He’s jest the man I’ve been lookin’ for,” said the showman. “Life ain’t -worth livin’ for me without band music. I’m homesick for it. Wat Mayo -can consider himself hired as the teacher and leader of ‘Look’s Cornet -Band,’ and I’ll bet you ten dollars I’ll have twenty men practisin’ in -Hobbs’s hall before next Saturday night.” - -“You’ll never find twenty men in this place who can afford to buy band -instruments,” objected the Squire. - -“I’ll buy ’em myself,” cried Hiram, stoutly. “Great Caesar, what’s a -little expense beside good band music when a man’s hungry for it? I’ll -buy the instruments, I’ll buy the uniforms--it’ll be my band, and I’ll -buy a bearskin cap for Sime, here, six feet tall, and advertise him -for the tallest drum-major in the State. Why, hustlin’ Cicero, men,” he -cried, as his enthusiasm warmed his showman’s heart, “I can make Look’s -Cornet Band an organisation that will be wanted in ev’ry parade from -Quoddy to the Scarb’ro clam flats. And when your young friend Wat Mayo, -Phin, gets ahead of that band in his spick-and-span uniform, you won’t -have any more trouble about any critter ever cuttin’ him out with his -wife. Why, she’ll love him to death!” He stamped his big foot on the -piazza and laughed. - -“I knew there was something I was hankerin’ for,” he chuckled. “’Twas -a band. Why, we can serenade you, Phin, when you get elected Congressman -or hog-reeve or culler of staves or to some other high office.” - -“Of course, you are able to have such a plaything, Hime,” said the -Squire, without enthusiasm, “and if it helps poor Wat Mayo to get out -of his troubles I reckon the rest of us ought to be willing to stand the -hullabaloo.” - -With a rather grim smile he left them and went around into his kitchen. - -“Sime,” said the showman after he had smoked reflectively for some -time, “I have taken you in with me as a sort of a side partner. It’s -no use--there’s a few things that Phin and I can’t hitch hosses on, and -they are things that’s derned important to me. No matter what they are, -not jest now, at any rate. But I don’t mind tellin’ you that there’s -more comin’ out of that Palermo Cornet Band than biff-bangs and -toodle-oos. The thought of gettin’ it up was an inspiration--that’s what -it was. You see now what comes of doin’ a good deed! Gettin’ that girl -back makes us talk about Mayo, and from Mayo to a job for him, and thus -around to the band. Yess’r, a good deed brings it own reward. Now, I -ain’t popular with the people of this place. I want to be popular, but -I never could cater to the old moss-backs by soft-soapin’ ’em. To do -what I’ve set out to do I need to have a followin’. Now I’m goin’ to -start that band, pay ’em wages when they play, furnish free concerts -and music for dances, and if I ain’t popular then, why, I don’t know my -people, that’s all.” - -“Goin’ to run for office, I persume?” suggested Simon. - -“Run for your grandmother!” snorted Hiram. “What have I ever done to you -that you should twit me that style? No, s’r, I’ll jest say this much to -you, Sime. There’s a certain old son of a pickerel that I’m layin’ -for in this town, and I’m goin’ to have him. I’m goin’ to walk one way -acrost him and then come back the same way and wipe my feet on him. I -tell ye, Sime, when an old harker that has got plenty of his own, jest -gets out his knife and lets the financial blood out of a poor old man -and a strugglin’ boy, only for the sake of lettin’ it, then if he don’t -get it handed to him here--well, I may be lodged in another part of hell -from him and shan’t be able to see what is passed to him there. So it’s -me for him in this life! I tell you, Sime, our trip to Square Harbour -wa’n’t all for nothin’. We done a good deed and we are gettin’ our pay -passed right back to us.” - -With this curious but entirely characteristic reflection on the -dispensations of Providence, Hiram tossed away his cigar butt and -answered the supper call of Aunt Rhoda. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI--THE DISAPPOINTING “TEST CASE” OF SUMNER BADGER, - -A “SAMPLE CITIZEN” OF PALERMO - - - There once was a Quaker, Orasmus Nute, - - With a physog. as stiff as a cowhide boot, - - And he skippered a ship from Georgetown, Maine, - - In the ’way back days of the pirates’ reign. - - And the story I tell it has to do - - With Orasmus Nute and a black flag crew-- - - The tale of the upright course he went - - In the face of a certain predicament. - - --Ballad of “Orasmus Nute.” - - -There was at least one secret in his life that “Fig-ger-Four” Avery -kept. He never told what inspired Imogene to make her dash for liberty. - -Squire Phin didn’t exactly understand the tableau he had beheld, and -charitably refrained from mentioning to his brother how music, as -rendered by Uncle Wharff, failed to soothe the savage breast. As for -Hiram, he did not seem to be interested enough to ask any questions. - -Whenever he mentioned the elephant’s escapade to Peak, he referred to -the affair with a sort of grim blithesomeness. - -Weeks afterward, when the first damp, swirling snow of winter was -clotting itself on the windows of the little sitting-room, he sat for a -long time, figuring in a grimy account book with a stubby lead pencil. -Every once in a while he chuckled. - -“J. B. Sawtelle,” he murmured, “items: four begonies and three geraniums -mashed in front yard, one washin’ scattered hoorah-ste’-boy--say, Sime, -Imogene with a night gown on one tush and a pair of J. B.’s flannel -drawers flyin’ distress from the other, and sheddin’ assorted articles -such as found on a well-regulated clothes-line, as she hurrooped down -through the beech growth, must have been worth double the price of a -high-dive feature.” - -His shoulders, hunched in the rocking-chair, shook with suppressed -mirth. - -Peak, his slippered feet resting on the rail of the Franklin stove, -surveyed the shoulders and the back of Hiram’s head with scowling -disapproval. - -“Some might think you relished chances to throw away money,” he growled, -with a freedom of criticism accorded the favourite. Simon now appeared -to be settled as a fixture in the showman’s household. The old horse -Joachim had died with the first frosts, and the battered van lurched -under one of the poplars, exposed to the beating of the elements. - -“What bills do you think Imogene incurred on that trip--now, jest for a -guess?” demanded Hiram, in high good humour. “I’ve been figgerin’ it for -fun.” - -“It reely must be a good deal like a joke book,” observed Peak, with -fine satire. - -“I can set and pee-ruse them figgers,” said Hiram, slapping the little -book on his knee and chuckling afresh, “and think how Imogene must have -looked passin’ through them way stations, as you might say, and then -think how them farmers and old maids and women-folks run and squawked -and hollered, and I get fuller of tickles inside than a settin’ hen is -full of clucks. The trouble with you is, Sime, you ain’t got no humour.” - -“Well, I’ve had mostly troubles in my time, and I ain’t got no forty -thousand dollars in the bank, either,” said Peak, sourly. - -“Say, you’ve been twittin’ me about that forty thousand a good -deal lately,” snorted Hiram, glaring around over the back of the -rocking-chair. “You ain’t begretchin’ me my own, be ye?” - -“Ev’ry man’s welcome to all he’s got, for all o’ me. I ain’t ever had -nothin’. I don’t ever expect to have anything. But I tell ye, a -man don’t gain in the long run by slingin’ his money around too -permiscuous.” - -Hiram whirled in his chair and put his little book into his pocket. - -“For more’n a fortnit now, Sime, you’ve been slurrin’ more or less. -You’ve got some kind of a duflicker’s egg that you’re settin’ on. Now -come off’n the nest and if you’ve got any cacklin’ to do, out with it so -that I can join in!” - -Simon was too certain of his position as a favourite to be backed down. - -“I guess if speech of the people is correct,” he replied sturdily, “it’s -well enough known why you’re ticklin’ out when you think of Imogene’s -trip up-country.” - -“F’r instance, now,” suggested Hiram, his face very hard. - -Peak bent and poked the fire, sniffing disdainfully. - -“F’r instance, I said,” repeated the showman. - -“Say, look-a-here, Hime,” snapped Peak, whirling in his chair in his -turn, “do you think for a minute that I don’t know why you’ve been -makin’ all these trips up-country lately--and you a-sayin’ that you’ve -got to go up and transact a little more bus’ness about them damages of -Imogene’s? Now it’s about time to take some of the cuss of the thing -off’n that elephant.” - -“F’r instance, I said!” yelled Hiram, standing up and clacking his -fingers imperiously under Peak’s nose. “Out with it!” - -“Don’t you suppose I know that you’re courtin’ that tow-headed widder -that’s got a farm and twenty thousand dollars in the bank? Do you think -that you can fool me that’s summered and wintered with you? You’re -courtin’ her, that’s what you’re doin’, and you’re layin’ it all off -onto that elephant. Now don’t give me no more flim-flam. ’Tain’t -professional. It’s pickin’ me up for a sucker.” - -The narrow eyes of the giant sparkled with suspicion and with the -jealousy of the companion who is being supplanted and realises it. - -For a little while Hiram stood and glared at him and then sat down in -his chair again. Either a sense of guilt, craft or desire to placate a -friend caused him to moderate his demeanour. - -“See here, Sime,” he began, lighting a cigar to keep himself in -countenance, “you have figgered the thing all wrong. You know I ain’t -a marryin’ man. You and me neither of us is. I want you to live with me -and you’re goin’ to.” - -“I should think that the both of us has suffered enough from women as -it is,” grumbled the giant. “Both of us knows the other’s troubles -with ’em. And now for you to go and ram yourself right into the -bramble-bush again, and me here to advise you, makes me mad and -disgusted. I’m thinkin’ of you first of all, Hime. I ain’t selfish. But -I can see jest how it’s goin’ to be: you’re goin’ to git hitched and -then the first thing she’ll do will be to put the spittoon in the -woodshed and kick me out-doors. I thought you knowed more than to do -it--I honest thought so.” - -Peak bowed his head in grief. - -“In my whole life long I never was judged right yet by any human bein’,” - wailed Hiram. “And now here you go off the handle jest like the rest. -_You_ know what Nymp’ Bodfish done to me. _You_ know what I propose to -do to Nymp’ Bodfish. That’s all there is to it. He wants her and the -twenty thousand, and he’d ’a’ had her a year ago if he wasn’t hangin’ -off about bein’ a farmer. He wants her to sell and put the money into a -schooner, and he’s jest as much reckonin’ on that as on flood tide when -the moon’s right. His heart is set on it. I’m goin’ to make him the -sickest man ’tween here and the North Pole.” - -“There was a man once that give an elephant a chaw of terbacker,” - related Simon, “and when the doctors was tryin’ to fit some of the least -mussed-up pieces together at the hospital, he opened his eyes and said: -‘It was a good one on the elephant, wasn’t it?’ and then give one hiccup -and died.” - -“If you was only jest--well, say, ‘Figger-Four,’ and made such talk to -me,” snarled Hiram, “I’d drive you right down through the floor there, -like I’d drive a tent peg. But I’m willin’ to argue with _you_, Sime, -and if that don’t show that I’m a friend of yours, then I don’t know -what does.” He wiped his flushed face. “You understand, I can’t bust -this thing in a minit.” - -“Didn’t you yourself ketch him right in a caper that would queer him -with any decent woman--lug-gin’ off another man’s wife ’cause he was -hired to?” - -“Don’t you know that would be givin’ away the trouble of the young -Mayos--and them livin’ together now like turtledoves?” roared Hiram. -“Look at my brother Phin--one of God’s own gentlemen, if there ever -was one. Him a-breakin’ his heart and misjudged and old Willard’s girl -passin’ him by be-. cause he smashed King Bradish before her face -and eyes--and Bradish with the last word to her! Don’t you suppose my -brother could square himself with her by just one word of what he knows? -But will he do it after he has passed ’Rissy Mayo his word that so -long as she behaves herself he won’t give her away to any livin’ soul? -You can say he’s a fool if you want to, but I tell ye, Sime, when a man -has got as far along in life as Phin has without breakin’ his solemn -word, you can’t blame him if he’d rather gnaw himself inside than have -those whom he gives away scorch him outside.” - -He had furiously puffed his cigar down to the end. Now he lighted -another. - -“I never approved of him carin’ a snap for the Willard girl, Sime. I -don’t like her. I don’t like the breed. But this lovin’ of folks ain’t -to be regulated jest the way you’d like to have it. If my brother can -keep his mouth shut about King Bradish’s rottenness when, as you might -say, it’s a wife at stake for him, then I guess I can keep still when -it’s only a grudge that I’m workin’.” - -“Then it ain’t no wife in your case?” pursued Peak, suspiciously. - -“I tell ye, all I can do now is to hint,” insisted Hiram, evading the -main question. “I’ve jest got her on the anxious seat. It’s the way I -struck up her interest first of all. I couldn’t have got near her with -a ten-foot pole if I hadn’t got her curiosity started by hints. Then, -of course, she wanted to know what I meant and I’ve been puttin’ her off -ever since. You never saw a woman so worked up as she is, Sime--never. -She can’t hardly stand it till I come again. Then she lets into me to -tell her all about Cap Bodfish. She don’t want to leave go of him till -she knows definite. I reckon she wants to have him around so as to peel -him when she does find out that there really is something in what I -hint.” The showman chuckled again. “And it’s kind of what you might call -a lingerin’ death for him--one of the slow kind like bein’ gnawed by -ants. Ev’ry time he goes up to see her she don’t know whuther to love -him or club him off’n the premises--and she blows hot and she blows cold -all in one minit, and if he ain’t the wust puzzled man that ever tried -to box compass in the sea of matrimony, then I’ll eat the celluloid peel -in a side-show lemonade.” - -“Don’t he suspect what it all means?” inquired Peak, beginning to -appreciate the situation with the malice of a man who has been fooled -and enjoys seeing others in the same boat. - -“Keeps a-grabbin’ ev’ry which way like a man that hears a moskeeter -buzzin’ round him in the night,” giggled Hiram. “I’ve set right in the -other room sev’ral times and he didn’t know I was there, and I’ve heard -him coax and beg and guess and promise and almost blubber, and me behind -the door in t’other room swellin’ up and swellin’ up and then lettin’ it -out through my nose easy, and then swellin’ up again. I don’t believe I -shall be able to stand very much of that. I’m li’ble to bust some time.” - -“I should think it would be well wuth list’nin’ to,” agreed Peak. Then -he said artlessly: “I like fun myself. Why can’t I go along with you -after this? Then there won’t be no such thing as her gettin’ her cobweb -around you.” - -“You talk as though I was runnin’ matinées up-country,” said Hiram, the -red on his bristly cheeks. He detected Peak’s selfish apprehension, and -the giant’s gaze shifted under his scowl. “I never had any trouble -in runnin’ my own bus’ness yet and I don’t expect to have to call in -understudies right away.” - -In considerable dudgeon he marched along to a narrow secretary in the -corner and began to mumble figures in an undertone as he went over -his accounts. Peak sat gazing into the fire, twirling his huge thumbs -thoughtfully. - -The sound of some one stamping off snow on the porch broke upon the -silence of the two. The visitor came in without knocking and, fumbling -his way along the dark entry, opened the sitting-room door. - -It was old Sumner Badger, the wet snow splotching his faded overcoat. - -“’Pears to be one o’ these ’ere sticky storms,” he observed amiably, -pulling a chair up before the stove. - -“Yes, seems to hang to _you_ like dollar bills do,” retorted Hiram, -snapping around from the secretary and squinting over his glasses. Then -he went on with his figuring, talking half aloud. Badger surveyed the -back of his head for some time and then said: - -“It’s about that money you want to borrow of me, Capt’in.” Badger always -bestowed this title in moments when he wanted to placate. - -“Then you’ve collected from Willard, have you?” inquired Hiram, gruffly, -over his shoulder. “Huh, you’ve been long enough about it. Ever since -last fall.” - -“Well, I’ve seen the Jedge,” faltered Badger; “jest come from his office -to here. He says the town can’t raise no money to take up town notes not -till town meetin’ in March. He says it will be made all right to me if -I’ll wait. Now he give me to understand that I’d git seven per cent, all -hunky if I didn’t hurry things and--no, s’r, honest to Lucifer if I said -a word about your wantin’ the money,” he expostulated as Hiram swung -angrily to face him. - -“I told you I’d kill you if you did,” roared Hiram. “And I didn’t, -Capt’in! No, s’r, when it’s money concerned I can keep my mouth shet. -Ain’t I kept it shet all these years about the Jedge havin’ it?” - -“Let’s see!” remarked Hiram, with a sly look in his eye, as though he -wished to test this Palermo voter. “How much money does Palermo owe, -anyway?” - -“I don’t have the least idee,” blandly returned Badger, crossing his -knees. “We all trust the Jedge to ’tend to that. _He_ knows.” - -“So you are goin’ to let your money stay with the Judge, hey?” - -“Well--blorh hum! Well, as I was sayin’, Jedge Willard seems to -be perfickly square about makin’ it right and--and--well, Capt’in, -nat’rally it’s--it’s bus’ness--well, to make it an object to shift you -might---there’s the taxes, too----” - -“You old harker,” cried Hiram, irefully, “what you want me to say is -that I’ll pay you eight per cent.! ‘You’ve been whifflin’ back and forth -for two months between Judge Willard and me. I thought you got all ready -to die a while ago. What are you waitin’ for--to place your money out at -eight per cent, first?” - -“I ain’t goin’ to die,” blurted Badger. “A man’s got the right to change -his mind, ain’t he? And they’ve found out about that Mis’ Achorn. She -used a wax hand to make folks believe ’twas some one dead that was -touchin’ ’em and---” - -“Shet up!” barked Hiram. “Do you think I’ve been in the circus line -thirty years to need to have fakes explained to me? It’s bus’ness I want -to talk with you, Sum. Don’t you read your town report, you fool? Don’t -you know that Judge Willard says there over his name that this town owes -only a little over two thousand dollars? And yet you know, yourself, -that he has borrowed seven thousand from you on a town note! Don’t you -stop to think about those things? And now I’ll tell you something -to make your hair curl! I have found out that there are twenty-five -thousand dollars’ worth of town notes held around here by just such old -blind moles as you are that he has told to keep still. Lord knows how -many more there are. I don’t imagine that some would let it out if you -took a knife to ’em.” - -He wiped the perspiration from his face and gazed at Badger as though he -expected the information to wilt him. The avenger of the wrongs of the -Looks was not entirely ready with the thunderbolt that he was -forging for the town treasurer of Palermo, but the serenity of the -dollar-blinded Badger exasperated him. For a test he wanted to see how -one citizen of Palermo would receive the disclosure. - -“I tell you your treasurer is fooling the whole of ye!” he shouted. “He -has stolen from your town.” The creditor blinked at him. “Now will you -sit by and let him fool you with his talk of makin’ it right? Now will -you try to screw eight per cent, out of me who’s tryin’ to bring him to -the ring bolt? Now will you hand that note over to me or pitch in and -collect it yourself?” - -To Hiram’s intense astonishment Badger slowly leaned forward, set his -elbows on his knees, began to tap his finger-tips together, winked one -eye, and smiled shrewdly and composedly. - -“Don’t you worry none about Coll Willard,” he said. “He’s a financier.” - He rolled the word over his tongue. “His folks was financiers before -him. Nobody can’t fool him. He’s sly. So’m I. He’s ready to help the -sly folks. You’ve got money, but you ain’t no financier. You’re jest a -circus man. And we ain’t your monkeys, here in P’lermo. If you want your -nuts pulled out of the fire, pull ’em out yourself.” - -Hiram got up and stamped around the room in an ecstasy of rage. - -“I’m a good mind to let you all go to Tophet by the short cut, your -tails tied together with kerosened rags,” he gasped. “Here I am, givin’ -up time and money to save this town from being lugged into bankruptcy, -and what do I get? I get laughed at! Damn it!” he stormed, “there’s your -last town report! Look for yourself! He’s lied there under oath.” - -With the words he threw a pamphlet into Badger’s lap. The old man -promptly tossed the report upon the table. - -“You’d better stop tryin’ to work out your old grudge on Jedge Willard,” - he advised, with a bland sapience that made the showman grit his teeth. -“If he finds out that you’re a-slanderin’ him he’s li’ble to have the -law on ye.” - -“If I should stand up in town meetin’ and call on you to rise and -say whether or not you hold a town note for seven thousand dollars, I -suppose you’ll lie, won’t you?” - -“I shall allus stand behind the man who has allus helped to put some -extry dollars in my pocket,” said the old man, stiffly. - -Hiram seized him by the arm, hustled him to the door and thrust him out -into the entry. - -“If you wasn’t rank poison I’d chop you up and feed you to Imogene,” he -shouted as he slammed the door. “If you come into my house again I’ll -take chances and do it.” - -The door opened promptly and the unterrified Badger poked in his head. - -“I don’t s’pose you’re goin’ back on your brother Phin as a legal -adviser, be ye?” he inquired. “Well, he advised me to hang onto my town -note for a while and keep still till I heard from him. It wa’n’t two -hours ago that he told me the same thing. Now I----” - -But when Hiram clutched a chair with a threatening motion Badger fled. - -“Sime,” said the showman, “I’m blasted glad I had them carts painted -up. It’s me and you for the road again next season, both of us with our -knives out for blood and our little tin dippers held ready to catch -it. I’m sick of tryin’ to do favours for anyone. I never saw such an -ungrateful town as this one is.” - -He looked sullenly out into the driving snow. - -“The band seems to be doin’ well,” said Peak. “They’re havin’ three -rehearsals a week and are pretty nigh blowin’ their lungs out. You can’t -ask nothin’ better from the band than what you’re gittin’.” - -Hiram turned from the window and gave his friend and confidant a long -and searching stare. - -“Peak,” said he, “sometimes when you talk to me I think you’re in with -the rest a-tryin’ to do me.” - -Simon surveyed him with eyes mutely expostulating. - -“Other times I think you are a dummed fool. You can take your pick. Now -I am goin’ out to associate with some one that ain’t tryin’ to pick my -pocket the whole dog-blessed time nor spreadin’ on hair-oil talk when it -ain’t called for.” - -He trudged out to the barn where Imogene was spending the winter -in dignified ease, occupying a corner of the building that had been -sheathed and boarded for her comfort. Here “Figger-Four” Avery tended a -little air-tight stove, relegated to the post of menial. - -Hiram sat in silent communion with Imogene until the dusk came down. -Once in a while he fed to her a lump of candy. Each time she curved down -her trunk he poked a thick finger against it roguishly. - -“I’ll bet ye know who sent ’em to ye--now, don’t ye?” he would -chuckle, when Imogene gazed down on him with amiable blinkings. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII--WHAT DEVELOPED AT THE FORUM IN ASA BRICKETT’S STORE, - -TO AN OBBLIGATO BY LOOK’S CORNET BRASS BAND - - - “Always a seat for another, - - Providin’ we squeeze ’em tight; - - Stampin’ in from the smother, - - For ’tis snowin’ hard to-night. - - Time for a bit o’ smokin’, - - Time for another tale, - - Time for a little jokin’, - - Waitin’ here for the mail.” - - --Ballad of “The Grocery Store.” - - -I think there’s more git-up and ginger in a fife and drum,” said Uncle -Lysimachus Buck. He had cocked his ear to listen. Then he held his cane -beside his lips and fingered imaginary stops. - -The windows of Hobbs’s hall, across the street from Asa Brickett’s -store, shed their yellow gleams out upon the crisp winter night. A band -rehearsal was going on there. The loafers who hovered about the stove -in the store could hear the voice of the leader haranguing his men, then -the robust attack on the tune--bass horns bellowing “oomp-pah oomps,” - cornets blaring and clarinets wailing; then the false note, the wavering -in the melody and the sharp command of a voice, at which the music -shredded out into jargon and ceased. More harangue and away they all -went again from the start! - -“If the dummed calves ever git so they can play a whole piece to once it -will be wuth while list’nin’,” growled Marriner Amazeen, settling down -once more to his whittling, after he had cocked his ear for a time. - -“Near’s I can find out, Hime ain’t lettin’ ’em practise nothin’ but -them high-diddle-diddle circus tunes,” observed Uncle Buck. “Now, you -take a fife and drum in ‘The Girl I Left Behind Me,’ or a good fiddler -in ‘The Devil’s Dream’ or ‘Miss McCloud’s Reel,’ or even an accordion -in ‘Alice, Where Be Ye?’ and, by swanny, you’ve got the real old -ear-ticklers. But this squeaky-weaky, biff, bang, boom stuff ain’t music -no more’n poundin’ on a tin wash-boiler is.” - -But when Brickett began knocking a soap box into pieces for firewood, -Uncle Buck bawled at him angrily. - -“Band tootlin’ don’t keep _me_ warm,” said Brickett, as he stuffed the -fuel into the stove. “Any time my system of runnin’ things in this store -don’t suit the loafers, said loafers know what they can do.” - -“Ain’t no need of goin’ ’round makin’ noise jest for the sake of -makin’ it,” replied Buck. - -“Then you whistle whilst I pound boxes,” said the storekeeper, grinning, -“and p’raps it’ll remind you of a fife and drum.” - -“Shet up a little while, won’t ye, now?” asked Micajah Dunham, -wistfully. “Here I drive clear in from my place on band-practisin’ -nights so’s to git a little music, and you run your clack so that a -feller can’t hear.” He sat on the edge of a box, his purchases heaped in -his lap, his fur cap on the floor in order that the earlappers might -not obstruct his hearing. “Here’s a piece now that they play well,” he -added, with the air of conviction of one who had followed faithfully the -work of the new Palermo band. - -The men around the stove listened, Uncle Buck tapping his cane -appreciatively. - -“There! Ain’t that good?” sighed Dunham as the band came down the -homestretch and wound up the selection in a fine burst of melody. - -“I guess there ain’t no doubt but what Wat Mayo is hunky-dory as a -musicianer,” agreed Amazeen. “I hear that the Port boys are gittin’ up a -band, and they’re even talkin’ of one over to Newry Gore, and are goin’ -to have Wat to teach both of ’em. I s’pose it’s all right for him to -spend his time that way and earn a dollar, but it don’t seem much like -man’s work to me.” - -“I s’pose you think the only real bus’ness a man ought to foller is to -raise pertaters and fat shotes?” sarcastically observed Dunham. “I tell -ye, I admire the Mayo boy’s spunk in makin’ something out of himself -instead of a day-labourer. You can’t fit square pegs into round holes. -He’s been woke up and put into the job that he fits. Now he’ll amount -to some thing. Folks gen’rally amount to something when they git woke -up--if it ain’t too late,” he added with a sigh. He snuggled his heap of -parcels together on his knees. “I ought to be goin’ home,” he said, half -to himself. “But, I swan, I’d like to hear one more tune.” - -“You seem to be livin’ pretty well nowadays out to your house,” remarked -Uncle Buck, with a sly look at the bundles. - -“’Tain’t no more than bringin’ up the gen’ral av’rage, when you think -of what we’ve missed to our house,” was Dunham’s stout rejoinder. He -was ready nowadays to meet fearlessly the malicious thrusts of his old -neighbours, with his new gospel of life. - -The music recommenced again across the street. This time the band was -playing an accompaniment for a cornet solo by its leader. The notes, -dulcet in the distance, seemed almost phrasing a song. Dunham’s eyes -moistened with the sudden emotion of his simple nature. - -“I know you all have a good deal of fun behind my back about the way -I’ve shifted over,” he said, quietly. “I know that it makes you laugh -to hear me go ’round preachin’ about gittin’ a little something out of -life as you go along. I don’t care if you do laugh. Laugh! The more ye -laugh, the less you’ll growl. But me and my wife has woke up, and we -don’t care who knows it, and if some of the rest of you would wake up, -too, you’d find that the only thing the sun shines for ain’t to raise -crops and make freckles.” - -“P’raps if all of us could git holt of a ready-made, grown-up daughter, -as good as the one you’ve got, we might improve some,” said Buck, with a -wink at his associates in “hector.” - -“P’raps you could,” Dunham answered, simply and earnestly. - -“Well, it makes a pretty good berth for a poor girl, ’Caje,” said -a man behind the stove. “Most anyone would like to be adopted into a -fam’ly like yours.” - -“It ain’t that way, neighbours,” Dunham said softly, his face in the -direction of the music. “When we adopted ’Liza Haskell we was gettin’ -the best end of the bargain, if ye want to put it on that kind of a -basis. We was both all corners before--sharp corners at that. I ain’t -backward about ownin’ up--we f’it, me and Esther, like fury, and we -didn’t know what was the matter with us. But somehow there don’t seem to -be any corners in our house now. Them that ain’t filled with new chairs -and pictur’s is all full o’ sunshine. There ain’t a room in the house -that looks like it used to--with the furniture standin’ round jest as -though it had been used at a funeral last and was where the undertaker -arranged it. We didn’t know what the matter was, I say--me and Esther -didn’t. We don’t know jest how it’s come about nov. But we do know -that we’ve adopted something besides a poor little girl--we’ve adopted -sunshine and sweetness and comfort and new notions about livin’ and -lovin’ and havin’.” - -He stood up and piled his parcels upon his arm. - -“That’s the way it is to our house nowadays, neighbours. I used to like -to set here the whole ev’nin’ in the store before--but now--well, -when I git to thinkin’ about how home is, why, it takes more than them -pretty tunes to hold me here. There’s music to our house that’s better -than all the brass bands in the world.” - -He went out and they heard the jingle of his sleigh-bells threading -through the mellow notes of the cornet. - -“He was allus sort of a soft old fool when you got under his shell,” - scoffed Uncle Buck, grinding his cane against the rusty stove. “What I -can’t understand is how Esther ever come ’round as she did. I allus -thought she was harder’n nails.” - -“Oh, it took Squire Phin to warm her ear-wax,” said Amazeen. “And when -you know how to handle a woman like that, why, you’ve got her--that’s -all. I cal’late there ain’t a man in the county that understands human -natur’ better’n Squire Phin does. He can handle ’em all right when he -makes up his mind to.” - -Uncle Buck was plainly nettled by Amazeen’s air of easy confidence. - -“Well, there’s one woman that he don’t seem to be able to handle--and I -reckon he’d like to at that,” he snorted. “Sylvene Willard ain’t hardly -spoke to him since he knocked her feller down.” - -“I don’t cal’late as how you’ve got any right to call King Bradish her -feller,” objected Amazeen. - -“I donno why not,” snapped Uncle Buck. “Jedge Willard come right out -after that happened and said that Sylvene and King was goin’ to git -married at Christmas time, and Sylvene didn’t dispute him. It’s past -Christmas time now, to be sure, but as I understand it, King is tied up -in New York by bus’ness and ain’t been able to git back since he went -away a little spell ago.” - -“Little spell ago!” cried Amazeen. “He ain’t been back since he went -away that time in the fall when Hime’s el’phunt got loose.” - -“Mebbe, but time slides away kind o’ fast,” grudgingly admitted Buck. -“Howsomever, they’ll git married all right when he comes back. If Coll -Willard says so, then they will, that’s all! Phin Look can’t stop it. -His cake was dough when he licked Bradish.” - -“As I’ve allus understood the row, King had the right of it,” observed -the man behind the stove. - -“Why, the Jedge himself told me,” said Buck, “that all King done in the -world was to step up to the Squire and call him into line for braggin’ -round how he’d cut out King the night before and walked home with -Sylvene from the schoolhouse out Dunham’s way. Jedge told me so himself. -That’s comin’ pretty straight!” - -“Well, now, that don’t seem like Squire Phin Look,” broke in Amazeen, -wagging his head decisively. “I’ve heard that version, but it don’t seem -like Squire Phin--and we’ve known him a long time, too.” - -“He ain’t ever given the lie to the Jedge,” said Buck. “He ain’t ever -said aye, yes or no about it. Nat’rally think, then, he must be ashamed -of it, wouldn’t ye? I tell ye, boys, when there’s a woman in the case we -don’t none of us know what the best of us might do. Squire Phin Look is -an almighty nice man, good and kind-hearted and smarter’n a whip. I’ve -allus stood up for him, and I was in the scheme----” He checked himself -suddenly in some confusion with a side glance at Amazeen. “I was in -hopes that the match wouldn’t come off with Bradish. But the Squire -went and lost his head and kicked up---like the best do sometimes when -there’s a woman in the case. Sylvene Willard ain’t the woman to stand -that kind of bus’ness. You can’t blame her. I say she and Bradish will -git married, and you can mark my word on it.” - -A man sat on a bit of board that was laid across an unheaded keg of -nails. He had been listening, elbows on his knees, his brown hands -braiding and unbraiding a length of rope with a sailor’s deftness. This -man was Mate Seekins of the _A. P. Bristol_, home in Palermo for his -midwinter lay-off. - -“What do they hear here in town from Bradish?” he inquired. There was -a suppressed note of meaning in his voice that the little crowd did not -catch. - -The men about the stove looked at each other. “Nothin’,” at last blurted -Uncle Buck. - -“What bus’ness is he a-follerin’ of in New York?” asked Seekins. - -“As near’s I’ve ever come to it,” said Buck, “him and the Jedge is in -some kind of financierin’ together and King’s handlin’ that end of it. -But the Jedge don’t put his bus’ness into the _Seaside Oracle_ and King -ain’t the kind that writes letters to be read out loud here in Ase’s -store,” he added grimly. “I s’pose his mother hears reg’lar and the -Jedge and Sylvene, but the Bradishes and the Willards never messed in -very thick with their neighbours. Sum and substance is, we don’t know -not the first dum thing about King Bradish nor his bus’ness, nor why -he closed up bus’ness here in the hurry that he did and got out of the -place. And I donno as I care. I never had no use for the skunk, anyway.” - -He pared a corner from a black plug of tobacco, stuck it into his cheek -and relapsed into dignified silence. - -The man on the keg braided at his rope-end. - -“I shouldn’t want him to do no gre’t amount of financierin’ for me,” he -said at last. “Bradish, I mean.” - -“I donno ’bout that,” Amazeen said. “He was allus pretty sharp on a -dicker ’round here.” - -“I say I shouldn’t want him to do my financierin’ for me,” persisted -Mate Seekins. - -The group waited for him to go on, but he kept at his braiding. - -“Well, you’ve gone that fur. Keep on,” commanded Uncle Buck. - -“I ain’t no hand to peddle gossip,” said Seekins. - -“Who said ye was?” Lysimachus’s tone was indignant. “And there ain’t no. -call for you to hint that we’re gossips here. If you ain’t man enough to -dast to say what you know, then keep still and much good may it do you.” - But the old man’s eyes gleamed with curiosity. “Half truths are wusser’n -whole lies,” he muttered. “I ain’t no hand to talk and tell,” went on -Seekins, “but when I say I don’t want him to financier for me I mean to -say that I don’t want any man handlin’ my money that keeps drunk as a -fiddler’s hoorah.” - -The music from across the street bellowed in louder blast, for the store -door opened with a bang and Hiram Look came stamping in. - -“Do me up a slab of cheese and plenty of crackers, Colonel Brickett,” - he called. “Wider’n that,” he snapped as Brickett set his knife on the -cheese. “Look’s Cornet Brass Band ain’t eatin’ no half rations so long -as old Hime himself is on hand to buy for ’em.” - -He beamed on the circle of faces about the stove, for the inspiration of -his favourite tunes made him genial. - -“How does that sound to you, old turkles?” he cried, with a backward jab -of his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of Hobbs’s hall. “It’s -sort of wakin’ up Palermo, hey?” - -“I suppose it will be good enough when they can play without soundin’ -like bullfrogs with the croup,” returned Uncle Buck, sulkily. Hiram had -come in at just the time when he had edged forward to put some leading -questions to Mate Seekins. He turned to the sailor again. - -“You was sayin’----” he began. - -“You never heard nothin’ in your life before but a melodeon and a jew’s -harp, you old Fiji,” shouted Hiram, thrusting forward close to the -stove. “There’s about a half dozen of you old mossbacks that ain’t come -to enough to appreciate what I’m doin’ for this place. But I’ve got the -crowd with me. I’ll show ye in town meeting next March! I can run that -band myself, so fur’s that comes to; but I’m goin’ to make some of -you old hogs of taxpayers chip in to support it. I’m goin’ to have an -article put in appropriating two hundred dollars for band concerts next -summer, and I’ll carry it through.” - -“This town won’t vote for no such dum foolishness,” retorted Buck. -He turned to Seekins again, his curiosity mastering his spirit of -controversy. - -“You was sayin’ as how----” - -“Bet you fifty, and put the money in Brickett’s hands right now,” - bellowed Hiram, ever eager for opportunities to browbeat the old men of -the village. He dug into his trousers pocket. - -“Why don’t you wear that wad o’ money hung round your neck out in -plain sight?” demanded Uncle Lysimachus, angrily. “You seem bound and -determined to have it under our noses all the whol’ time.” - -“Put up your stuff,” cried Hiram. “Make a pool if ye want to. I ain’t -afraid of the gang of you.” - -He whirled and ran his hale eye along their faces. Dow Babb, who had -been chief of the Palermo hand-tub brigade for many years, unhooked his -toe from his instep, recrossed his legs and said with decision: - -“You can’t run the _whole_ of this town, Hime, even if you are runnin’ a -part of it jest now. You wait your turn with your brass band. I’ve been -before town meetin’ for four years, now, a-askin’ and implorin’ the -voters to appropriate enough to repair Hecla and buy some more hose. -They ain’t give me a cent. Now if you go to work and bull through any -such article in the warrant as you’re braggin’ you will, then all I’ve -got to say is that the next time a fire breaks out in the village, your -darned old band can go and play on it. The Hecla comp’ny never will.” - Uncle Buck, unable to control himself any longer, got up and pounded his -cane on the floor. - -“I’ve heard all the tow-rowin’ I want to hear. Here I be tryin’ to talk -with Mr. Seekins about something that amounts to something. And ye can’t -hear yourself think. Take your cheese and your crackers, Hime Look, and -go over and stuff ’em into your toodle-oodlers. Let gentlemun that’s -a-talkin’ serious bus’ness go on with their serious bus’ness. Now, -Seekins, you said as how you’d seen King Bradish drunker’n a fiddler’s -hoorah. What else?” - -“I never said I seen him,” returned the man, sullenly. - -“It’s the same thing; you meant it. Go ahead.” The old man’s tone was -imperious. - -Hiram and the rest of the crowd turned to him, inquiry on their faces. -The showman leaned forward with especial insistence. - -“I ain’t no hand to tattle----” - -“You said that before, consarn ye!” This persistent delay that baffled -Uncle Buck’s curiosity made him furious. - -“No matter what you see or what you didn’t see,” said Hiram. “The -idea is, what do you _know?_” There was no resisting the force of -circumstances. “Well,” roared Seekins, “I know that King Bradish is -keepin’ full of licker in New York and throwin’ money right and left and -over his shoulder--or has been so long’s he had it to throw. He’s gone -to Tophet, that’s what he’s done, and if what I hear up at the other end -is true, he’s got a string hitched to certain parties in this place and -he’s goin’ to drag ’em with him. Now that’s all you’re goin’ to git -out of me,” he concluded, throwing the rope-end into the wood-box and -rising. “I don’t propose to git into no trouble by talkin’ and tellin’. -I’ve seen people that done that. If any’s interested, let ’em go to -New York and to the right people and they’ll find out for themselves.” - -He pushed through the little circle and went out of the store. - -Hiram seized his crackers and cheese and started after him, overtaking -the sailor in the middle of the square. - -One after the other, the old men blunted their noses against the frosty -panes of Brickett’s front window, trying to spy and to hear. But only -the mumble of voices reached them, Hiram’s tone insistent, Seekins’s -deprecatory. - -But at last Hiram slapped him cordially on the back and the two -separated. A sudden cessation in the band music showed that the -refreshments had arrived in the hall, and the old men yawned about -Brickett’s stove and one by one went home. - -One or two persons saw Hiram Look drive out of the yard of the old place -the next forenoon and take the road toward Square Harbour, his tall hat -projecting just above the high back of his sleigh, and fat ear-muffs -cosily snuggling his ears. - -These one or two asked “Figger-Four” Avery about the showman’s -departure, when he came to the store during the day, after a “fig” of -tobacco. - -“Here’s what he said to me,” stated Avery: “Says he, ‘I’m goin’ to -Europe, I-rope and A-rope after wild animiles, and I’ll be back when I -git damation good and ready. If you miss feedin’ Imogene on the dot -or let the fire git low in the stove, I’ll warp t’other leg for you.’ -There! That’s what he said, and if you can git any more out of it than -what I have, you’re welcome to. I guess you’d better give me another fig -o’ terbacker, Ase, for I’m goin’ to stay pretty clus to that barn till -he gits back.” - -“I s’pose you know all about el’phunts now, don’t you, Avery?” inquired -one of the men who lounged about the stove, toasting their shins. - -“Wal, I know this much,” said “Figger-Four,” putting away his weed and -buttoning his coat before facing the cold; “I know that an el’phunt -wants meals reg’lar--a lot of it, can’t understand a joke and don’t like -music on the flute. There may be other things about ’em to know, but -they ain’t things that I need in my bus’ness.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII--YANKEE DISPOSITION IS NOT EXACTLY UNDERSTOOD, - -EVEN BY ITS POSSESSORS. - - - “Old Zibe Haines had a corn on his toe - - And it ached like ginger ev’ry step he’d go. - - He reckoned that toe had all them pains - - Jest for to hector old Zibe Haines. - - He grabbed up a mallet and a chisel, too, - - And clear’n to the woodpile swore things blue. - - He put that toe on the choppin’ block - - And off he whacked it, slap, ker-chock! - - And he throwed that toe ’bout ha’f a mile-- - - Oh, that was old Zibe Haines’s style. - - Tum-diddy-dum and tum-diddy-dee, - - Queer old crab was Haines, was he!” - - --Narrated by Marriner Amazeen. - - -Squire Phineas Look, during the life of his love for Sylvena Willard, -had become pretty thoroughly accustomed to having his heart affairs -marked “Continued till next session,” as he half-bitterly termed it in -his meditations. - -Coupled with Squire Phin’s natural reserve was that quality of his -trained lawyer mind that was willing to abide delays till “his case was -prepared.” - -In some men this would have been timidity. - -In others it would have been half-heartedness. - -In Squire Phin it was fixity of purpose and the steady loyalty of a -firm, pure, true love that could wait. - -Down in Smyrna the summer visitors still listen with mingled emotions to -the story of the loves of Moses Britt and Xoa Emerson. - -After they became engaged Moses worked for eight years accumulating -enough money to buy three-eights of a fishing schooner. Xoa toiled -at housework in various families, picked blueberries for the canning -factory, and, by any employment that came to her hand, earned and saved -for the little home that they had planned. - -“We won’t get married till we can have our house built and furnished and -ready to step into,” was the mark they had set thriftily for themselves. - -The house went up, so old Mell Cowallis remarked, like the way -“Figger-Four” Avery walked--steady by jerks: one year the foundation, -another year the side walls and roof, a third year the chimneys and the -lathing and clapboards--and so on for successive seasons, according as -the fishing prospered and the work-stained fingers of Xoa tucked away -the clinking change and the worn dollar bills. - -Now it came to the time when Xoa resolved to fulfill the dream of her -life and have a bow window of ample dimensions, the model of the one -on Sheriff Morton’s big house, where she had worked for years in the -kitchen, envying all the time the luxurious ease of the sheriff’s wife -lolling on a divan in the window. But this window meant postponing the -marriage a year, and with the house so nearly completed Moses had begun -to express an entirely natural anxiety to get married. - -Xoa, with the bow window filling her vision, could not understand this -sudden haste in one who had been always as philosophic over delays as -she herself. - -“You think more of your old bow winder than you do of me,” cried Moses, -in sudden jealousy. And he sailed away on a trip to the Banks, biting -his stubbly gray beard in pique. - -And ere one week had gone a legacy came to Xoa from her aunt -Persis--just enough of a legacy to put on that bow window. So she hired -carpenters in haste and set them at work, determined to have her way -before the return of Moses. On one evening when the expanse of glass in -that window was glowing redly in the beams of the setting sun, the “Xoa -and Laura” sailed up the reach with her flag at half mast, and reported -the loss of Moses Britt and his dory mate, smashed under in a fog by a -roaring steamship. - -Those who know say that Xoa knelt all night in her new bow window, -with her face against the glass, and when morning came she called the -carpenters again, and with clamour of hammers and rasp of saws they took -off the bow window and boarded the side of the building up. And then--it -being a case where the solemn ceremony could be deferred till all was -ready--she secured a casket from the city, put into it all the pathetic -old clothes that had been turned over to her with Moses’s dunnage-bag, -called in the parson and the neighbours, and the funeral of Moses -Britt was decorously carried out in a house upon which the soul of the -bridegroom-elect could look down from on high and not take exceptions. - -For forty years after that, until death took her, Xoa lived an old maid -in the bow-windowless house. - -It is not likely that Squire Phin Look used this case or any others -similar for precedents in heart affairs, as he would have employed -law-court decisions in his legal practice, but he had in his New England -temperament a finer grade of the same iron-stone that is found in such -dispositions as those of Moses and Xoa. - -So much for the steadiness and the reserve of his affection in the past. - -Since that unfortunate day in the fall there had been something else -than reserve to make him walk hastily past the Willard place, to keep -him away from the little social gatherings in the meeting-house vestry, -and he avoided Sylvena Willard with as much anxiety as she appeared to -avoid him. He was as ashamed of that blow as he would have been of a -crime. Now that the rage of the provocation had departed, he knew that -his act had been a vulgar street affray--there was no other word for it -in his vocabulary. - -When some of the jesters in the attorneys’ room at county court -mentioned the affair at the December term with many humorous inquiries, -he was so overwhelmed with shame that he asked continuance for most of -his cases and hurried home. - -Yet he heard other things at that term of court that disquieted him -more. - -“Why, Look, I _know_ it!” one of his lawyer friends had insisted, when -he ventured to remonstrate at certain gossip. “I don’t know how much -property Judge Willard has got, nor what resources are back of him. But -I do know that he is as pinched for ready money as the devil. I can -talk with you without it’s going any farther; but being a trustee in -a savings bank and a director in a national bank, I come pretty near -knowing when a man is hustling hard for loans, and you can tell how -hard he is hustling from the kind of collateral he is offering. I’ve -got nothing against the Judge, but I’m afraid he’s in over his head with -Bradish. Your Bradish has been a country plunger for a long time--and -the country plunger is the worst of the breed. He thinks he knows it all -and is working the stock market at arm’s length. I know, myself, that -one bucket shop let him down for sixteen thousand in a single blind -pool. Willard seems to have played fox with you folks in Palermo -through it all, and, of course, he’s had a great start of you with his -reputation and all that. But if he’s your town treasurer, as I hear he -is, and custodian of about all the funds of widows and orphans and old -codgers in your town, give him a looking over and do it right away. You -can’t afford to let even a Willard dump the whole of you--especially -when it looks to me as though this Bradish is the chap responsible for -getting him into this mess and has gobbled most of the money.” - -But even with that warning to spur him, Squire Look allowed the weeks to -pass without setting about any thorough investigation of Judge Willard’s -finances. If he were any other than Seth Look’s boy---Hiram Look’s -brother, he felt that the case would be different. Whenever he paused -in his work to ponder on the matter and on his duty to the citizens, he -groaned under his breath and put the thing away from him once more. - -And as the winter went on the Squire found less and less time to think -upon anything but his own matters. - -The State legislature had recognised his modest but just reputation as -one of the best-grounded “straight” lawyers in the State, and on the -recommendation of the judges had selected him as the reviser of the -statutes, a labour that he found exacting and absorbing. - -Then on the heels of this work came a syndicate with a scheme for -helping municipalities to instal and own their own water plants, despite -the statutory restrictions that allow towns to assume so much debt and -no more. The syndicate had heard of the Squire’s legal invention of -“water districts” that he had studied out in the dumbly approving -presence of his “Creosote Supreme Court” and expounded to the amazement -of lawyers who studied for a while and then accepted. - -And the syndicate would not listen to a nay and laid a certified check -in his hands of a size that would have caused Asa Brickett to swoon had -he realised that so large a consideration had passed over his head, and -on the first warming days of March thousands of picks and shovels were -ready to follow Squire Phineas Look when he had brushed away the last -tangle of litigation. - -Uncle Buck had passed the necessary word among the veteran loafers who -used to occupy the lawyer’s shaky chairs. - -“He’s busier’n a yaller dog with a tin can of snap-crackers tied to his -tail, and he don’t want nobody up there unless they come on straight -bus’ness.” - -So all day long, whether the snow beat against the panes or the sun -shone warm upon his broad back down through the bare elms, the Squire -sat at his big table, his pen busy, scratchity-scratch, or his eyebrows -frowning above some volume of reports, his old dog Eli curled on the -dusty floor at his feet. - -And the only ones who stamped up the slippery outside stairs were those -who came on business. - -It was on business that Judge Collamore Willard came one snowy, blowy -day in March, the wind whipping his cloak about his skinny legs as he -toiled up the stairs leading to Squire Phin’s office. He came in with -the gust casting a last handful of snow at his back, as a roguish youth -snowballs a figure that is aged and eccentric. - -It _was_ a queer figure that sat slowly down in one of the Squire’s -chairs, unwrapping fold on fold of a huge shawl that was coiled about -his head and long, thin neck. He had pulled the mitten from one of -his hands and the gaunt phalanges looked like a bundle of reeds tied -together by skin-strips. The skin was speckled with the brown spots of -age and the hand fluttered as it tugged at the shawl. - -The Squire put his knees against the edge of the table, sat back in -his chair, and poised his pen in silent amazement for a moment. Then he -pointed the pen at the stove. - -“Better sit close, Judge,” he admonished. “The draughts get to -sky-larking through here pretty lively on windy days.” - -“I ought not to have come out this day,” said the old man querulously. -“But I didn’t want to send word to you to come to my office for fear you -would think it strange and not come. And I felt that I had much need to -see you, Lawyer Look.” - -“I would have come if you had sent word,” said the Squire, simply. He -did not utter his curt “What can I do for you?” so common with him in -these busy times, but looked at his visitor with inquiring gaze. - -“Haven’t you got any influence or control over that fool brother of -yours?” demanded the Judge, bluntly and indignantly. - -“I don’t care to reply to questions of that sort put in that fashion,” - returned the lawyer, knitting his brows. - -Willard stared a moment into his face with its hard lines and then -shifted his eyes under the steady gaze of the Squire. - -“I don’t mean to be tart with you, Mr. Look,” he said, moderating his -tone, “but I don’t think you ought to let your brother come into this -town, after all that’s happened, and do what he is trying to do to me -and mine. You’re a man of standing and I’m going to say to you that I -think you are above such things.” - -His apology was awkward and half-hearted. - -“Aren’t you going to handle him and prevent him from making a fool of -himself?” - -“I don’t care to enter into any statement to you, Judge Willard, of -certain family discussions that have already occurred between my brother -and myself. I simply want to state for your benefit that I have no -sympathy with certain movements of his. But my brother’s business is his -own, Judge. He has adopted his own manner of living and occupies his own -apartments at our house, and if you care to talk this matter over with -him you’ll find him there at any time. I shall not interfere in his -affairs.” - -“I can’t talk with him,” remonstrated the old man. “There isn’t any -sense in him. With him it is either a curse or a blow, and the Willard -family has had enough of both from him. I have come to talk with you, -Mr. Look. Whatever else I have said to you and of you, I’ll acknowledge -that you are a fair man to talk with.” - -The lawyer made no reply. - -“I’ll say nothing to you of his under-handed tricks to interfere in my -business of loans and private banking,” went on Willard, stroking his -trembling hand along his withered neck. “But now he is going to mix -into town politics with his brass band and his free suppers and free -dances and his circus flapdoodle. It’s hurting this town, Lawyer Look, -and I appeal to you as a good citizen of Palermo to pull him back and -make him behave himself and not bring discredit on the place that I and -mine before me have been proud of so long.” There was some dignity as -well as earnest appeal in the old man’s voice. - -“I understand that he has the hoodlums with him,” he went on. “He can -make a lot of trouble in our town meeting this month. We have always got -along so well that it will be a shame to bring uproar and contention and -cheapness into our town affairs, Mr. Look.” - -Delicacy of touch at critical moments was not one of Squire Phineas -Look’s attributes. Now he leaned his elbows on the table, locked his -fingers together, and bending toward the old man said bluntly: - -“What you mean is, that it would be bad for you if you were defeated -for town treasurer, after your thirty years of service, since that would -mean that your books would be examined.” - -He pitied Willard when he crumpled down in his chair. In the silence -the lawyer had the queer thought come to him that the old man’s flabby -neck-skin looked like turkey’s wattles, flushed with dull red as they -were now. - -“That is a cruel taunt--an unjust advantage to take of a man who has -served his town so many years, Lawyer Look. I’ll own to you that I do -have some pride in the fact that I have been treasurer of this town so -long. I have set my heart on being reelected. It’s an old man’s whim, -Mr. Look--just an old man’s whim, and it would hurt my feelings cruelly -if the voters allowed your brother to work out his grudge in that way. -If I could only have another year--if I----” - -The lawyer, who had been steadily staring into his shifting eyes, broke -in upon his faltering appeal. - -“I always hate to see any living creature squirm, whether it’s an -angle-worm on a hook or a man on the rack of his own conscience,” he -said in his blunt, brusque manner. “I never delighted in torturing -anything, Judge. This is something like killing a creature to put it out -of its misery, but I’m not going to beat about the bush.” - -Willard had hooked his thin hands around the rungs of his chair and was -staring at the attorney with horror in his eyes. - -“I know why you want to be re-elected town treasurer,” went on the -Squire. “You want to cover up the fact that you’re an embezzler of -almost forty thousand dollars of the town’s funds-----Oh, I know what -you are going to say,” he cried, holding up his hand; “you are going to -say that you’ve only hired this money on town’s notes and are going to -pay it back, and that if you can be re-elected no one will be the -wiser. You are begging for time, Judge. But I tell you”--he stood up and -pounded the table--“you have stolen that money! You cannot pay it back. -It’s no use for you to deceive me by stories. Every dollar of property -you have in the world is mortgaged for every cent it is worth, and that -money and the money you have stolen from this town have gone--gone down -into that hole of speculation, to the side of which King Bradish led -with his devilish arts and promises. You’re ruined, Judge Willard, -you’re ruined--and God only knows how many other poor people you will -drag down with you in this town--people whose little capital is all in -your hands! I curse Bradish, first, for I believe if it hadn’t been for -him no Willard would have turned out of the straight path his ancestors -always followed. But I curse you, Judge Willard, for having allowed -yourself to be inveigled into dishonesty and the betrayal of the great -trust that has been placed in your hands. You have called me various -names in the past,” he went on, his eyes flashing and the passionate -anger of the Look temperament getting the better of his self-control; “I -simply want to say to you now that you”--he leaned forward, supporting -himself by his knuckles on the table--“are as miserable a thief as I -ever knew. For when you fall--a man trusted by all--you have taken away -Palermo’s strongest prop of good example from the poor, weak devils who -are trying to be honest in their poverty.” - -For a long time the two men looked at each other, the Squire stern and -angry, the Judge writhing in his self-abasement. - -Then the old man’s secret passed from his desperate clinch on it. He -trembled like a leaf, but there was a certain air of relief in his -confession and appeal. - -“God help me, Squire,” he wailed. “No, God cannot help me. But you can. -I am in awful trouble, Squire Look--awful! But it mustn’t be exposed -now, it mustn’t. If I can only tide it over this town meeting I can work -out of it. We got caught on the wrong side, King and I. It happened that -way right along until I knew it was wrong for us to work at arm’s -length from the market. But now that King is up there where he can study -things, we’re coming out all right. We can’t help coming out all right. -I have sat up night after night for weeks, Squire, and figured. I -haven’t slept for weeks and weeks. I have raked and scraped together -all I could and now we are going to win. King has it in his hands. -It’s going to win, I tell you! Only help me to tide it over this town -meeting, Squire. It was a mistake going into it. I realise it now. But -I had to stay in. I was tied up with King. But this time we are going -to win. We can’t help winning. Here’s King’s letter explaining the last -deal.” - -He tore at the breast of his frock coat and pulled out a crumpled -envelope. - -“Oh, it’s got to come out right now,” the old man mumbled on -appealingly. “I have sat up nights at my desk till my eyes were almost -burned out, planning and figuring. Here’s the letter, Squire. I’m going -to be honest with you at last. You can help me. You’ve got to help me!” - -His trembling fingers pulled the letter from the envelope, but the -lawyer motioned it back. - -“Excuse me, Judge,” he said, “but I don’t want to touch it. I’d rather -take hold of an adder from Watson’s bog. There’s less poison in the -adder. He has poisoned you through and through, Judge. I know more of -King Bradish in New York than you do. I----” - -“It’s your brother that has come back and lied about him!” cried the old -man with reviving passion. “It’s all lies! Lies!” - -“I say that I know about King Bradish,” pursued the lawyer with the -calm, dispassionate tone of utter conviction. “He has become a rake, a -spendthrift and a drunkard. He was all three when he lived here, but -he hid his passions. He ran away because he had stolen from you and was -afraid to face your ruin. He has thrown away the money you have sent -to him. You have nothing to hope from him, Judge. If I am cruel I am -at least honest, for now is the time for honesty. You are in an awful -position. Glossing over the situation cannot help you.” - -He looked with pity into the gray face of the village magnate, for -he never saw anguish drawn in more agonising lines on the human -countenance. Then the face puckered with the sudden emotion of an old -man, wearied, driven to his last ditch and become a child again. He wept -weakly, and the lawyer sat back in his chair and watched him without a -word, his brows knitted in thought. - -At last the old man rose and gathered his shawl about his neck. With a -pitiful attempt he had regained some of the old-time dignity. - -“I had no right to come to you, Mr. Look,” he said. “I didn’t realise -how the interview would come out. I hoped that you would control your -brother, that’s all, and give me one chance to save myself from State’s -prison. I can understand perfectly why you should not be willing to -help. I don’t blame you. Probably I should do the same under similar -circumstances. It’s only human nature. Excuse me for giving way, but--it -was pretty sudden for an old man.” His lips quivered. - -The Squire overtook him at the door and led him back to his chair -gently, but with a quiet decision that the Judge did not attempt to -resist. Then the lawyer leaned against one corner of the table and -looked down on the man before him. - -“It’s bad, Judge Willard! It’s bad,” he said earnestly. “Both of us have -passed our opinions of each other in the past, and it didn’t do either -of us any good. Neither of us will now make any false pretences of -friendship or forgiveness. We’ll leave affairs between us just as they -stand. I am going to own up to you that in an investigation of the -town’s affairs I shall show up badly myself, for I have been knowing to -irregularities for some months and I have no explanation to offer why -I did not report and interfere. It is for my interest, therefore, to -attempt to arrange this matter. It is for the interest of Palermo in -general to arrange it if we can. Your family has been our model of -integrity for a long time. To say nothing of money loss, the showing -up of this terrible thing will have an effect on morals and business -confidence that our poor little town will not recover from in years. It -is on my own and the people’s account that I am willing to say this to -you--and that is: If it is within the power of one man to do it, I will -try to avert this calamity from this town. I cannot tell you just how, -for I do not know myself. I haven’t had time to think about it. It is -too painful to talk about any longer now. Go home and put your -affairs into such shape that I may determine your obligations and your -resources.” - -The Judge weakly stammered promises, explanations and appeal, and would -have stayed, but the lawyer, with some impatience, helped him to tuck -his shawl about his neck, handed him his cane and opened the outside -door. - -But he stopped him on the threshold. - -“If I hear that you have sent one more dollar to Bradish or have had -truck or dealing of any sort with him after this talk of ours, I’ll have -no more to do with the affair. I’m not much of a man to threaten, but -that’s something you can depend upon.” - -The lawyer stood at his side window and watched the old man buffeting -his way up the street, the corners of his shawl streaming on the wind, -his slender legs quivering like reeds. - -“I’d hate to be cross-examined on a witness stand as to why I made such -a promise to him,” he muttered, and then he put another stick into the -stove, spatted his hands, gave the old dog an affectionate cuff, and -went back to his work. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX--SQUIRE PHIN SEES AND REPLEVINS WHAT BELONGS TO HIM - -IN MANNER DECIDEDLY SUMMARY - - - Then twice and thrice the youth’s parched lips - - Strive hard to frame the longed-for word; - - And twice and thrice he tries again, - - Yet not a single sound is heard. - - There’s just an upward flash of eyes - - Like starlight in a forest pool; - - She may have said, “Take heart, dear one!” - - She may have said, “Go on, thou fool!” - - --The “Quaker Wooing.” - - -Some of the older voters in Palermo relate that once a constable obeyed -the injunction to post a caucus call “in a public place” by sticking the -paper on the wall under the roller towel in Asa Brickett’s store. It -is further related that no one heard of that caucus until it was over, -except the few chosen ones let into the secret. - -But the warrant for the annual town meeting in Palermo that March, done -in the best roundhand of the second selectman, one copy tacked onto -the townhouse door, another copy pasted up in the post-office, another -nailed to the round centre post in Brickett’s store, received the -careful attention of every voter. - -Each sheet was banded by several broad smooches that distinguished the -articles in the warrant to which especial public interest attached. Each -voter, as he read these, carefully ran his finger along the lines across -the paper, so as not to miss a word, for it was understood that the -new faction in town politics, captained by Hiram Look, had obtained the -insertion of those articles. - -One was, “To see if the town will vote a sum of money for the support of -the ‘Look Cornet Brass Band,’ or act anything thereto.” - -Popular interest in this measure was shown by a fair amount of -discoloration on the paper. - -A deeper tint attached to Article 15: “To see if the town will vote to -pay its floating indebtedness, statement of complete amount of same to -be furnished the voters from his books by the town treasurer prior to -the call for the ballot.” - -Article 16 was banded darkest of any. It was: “To see if the town -will vote to oblige its treasurer to secure bonds acceptable to the -selectmen.” - -The people discussed these articles freely, but only as evidence that -Hiram Look was still busy at the working out of the old grudge against -the Willard family. No hint that irregularities existed in Judge -Willard’s accounts had been breathed. - -First of all, he had borrowed shrewdly from such men as Sumner Badger, -who clung to their little money secrets desperately, secure in their -faith in a Willard. - -Squire Phin Look was silent with the silence of a man who walks beneath -an avalanche poised for its plunge, and realises all the danger. - -The tempestuous Hiram, with teeth set close and growling under his -breath since his return from New York, was silent from motives ingrained -in his showman’s temperament. The fall of Palermo’s tower of financial -strength was a sensation that he was planning with as full an eye to the -dramatic as he would have planned a slide for life from the peak of the -round-top. - -“Blast him,” he muttered to Simon over and over in the moments when he -“had to talk to some one or bust,” as he expressed it, “he has always -put the twisters on our fam’ly before the face and eyes of the people. -It’s there I’ll take him, then! I wouldn’t even joggle him now. I want -him just as high on the pedestal as he can be. Not a whisper, or I’ll -murder you. I want him high, I tell ye! And with these two hands I’ll -push him off whilst they are all lookin’ at him. And he’ll fall a -thousand miles a minute and he’ll light in a cloud of splinters that -will make the sky dark. And then I’ll jump on him and crow three times -and a tiger, whilst the band plays ‘Yankee Doodle Dandy.’” - -During these harangues Peak wriggled his toes in his carpet slippers and -blinked appreciatively, but without venturing a word. - -“God!” blurted Hiram, spanking his hands upon his knees, “I’m givin’ him -a taste of the ling’rin’ agony he gave my poor old father till he run -him under ground. I’ve let him know just enough, Sime, to realise -that I’ve got the hooks fast into him. Now let him squirm! There ain’t -nothin’ that ties human natur’ into knots like bein’ sentenced and -knowin’ the day set for the hangin’. Old Coll Willard knows it’s for -town-meetin’ day, and that I’ve got the rope soaped for him. Let him -squirm! He’s a-writin’ two letters a day to that drunk in New York and -firin’ along three telegrams daily, sweatin’ blood all the time. Let him -squirm! I wonder now if he can’t see in his dreams poor old Seth Look -beggin’ for a little leeway on the notes the old pirate had bought up -against our fam’ly. He’s been down on his knees to Phin already.” - -Hiram rubbed his rough palms with satisfaction. - -“Ain’t your brother li’ble to daub in, seein’ that him and you ain’t -gittin’ along the best ever was jest now?” inquired Peak. - -“My brother is a fool in some directions, as I’m free to say both to him -and to inquirin’ friends,” reported Hiram. “But he’s a fool only about -so fur and then he stops. Don’t you set up nights worryin’ about that, -Sime. Phin has got a blister or two from the Willard fam’ly lately and -the swellin’ ain’t gone down yet.” - -After freeing his mind on such occasions as this, Hiram lighted another -of his long cigars, hunched down in his chair, and perused figures in a -dog’s-eared notebook with intense satisfaction. - -On the afternoon of the day before town meeting something that Squire -Phin had been vaguely dreading happened to him. - -He was walking slowly home, avoiding the sidewalk pools that the chill -of late afternoon had crusted. His head was bowed, either in thought or -to watch his steps, and he did not see Sylvena Willard standing at the -gate until she spoke to him. - -“Phineas, I would not have troubled you, but the matter is of the utmost -importance. I do not feel like discussing it by the roadside. Won’t you -step to the house?” - -He glanced at her with a sort of timidity in his demeanour. Her face, -half shielded by the shawl caught lightly around her head, was very -grave. It seemed to him that her temple locks had more gray in them than -when he saw her last. - -He hesitated only for a moment, then opened the iron gate and -accompanied her up the broad path to the porch. Neither spoke on the -way. - -In the big, gloomy parlour, in the corners of which old-fashioned -chairs of dark wood seemed to lurk like uncouth animals in the afternoon -shadows, he sat gazing at her, still without speaking. - -Her hands picked restlessly at the fringes of the shawl that she had -dropped across her lap. - -Beyond the closed double doors that shut off the adjoining room there -sounded music faintly. It was the tinkly melody of an automatic -music box, but the Squire, having no very keen ear for tunes, did not -recognise what this one was playing, only vaguely realising that it was -something he had heard before, probably at a vestry meeting. It seemed -to have a hymn flavour. - -“I don’t know enough about business to talk this matter over with you as -it should be discussed, Phin-eas,” she said at last. “I only know that -some dreadful trouble is killing my poor father. And I also know that -your brother is at the bottom of it. I have found out that he wants to -have father dismissed from office to-morrow. Father is old and childish, -Phineas. In the last few months he has grown much more so. He is -breaking down. I can see it, for I have a loving daughter’s eyes. I wish -he did not care for the office. It is only a little one, I know. But the -Willards have been treasurers of the town for many years, and he seems -to have set his heart on holding it. It is a small favour for an old man -to ask, Phineas, and you know that there is no honour that father thinks -as much of as he does an honour from his own people.” - -She looked at him wistfully. Yet he missed the old-time frank and candid -friendship in her eyes. - -Now it came to him suddenly that the tune on the music box in the other -room was, “Where is My Wandering Boy To-night?” - -“It is King’s mother,” she said, noting his look at the closed door. -“She is very lonely nowadays and spends her afternoons with me. She -seems to enjoy listening to the little music box that the Sunday-school -gave to me. I hope it doesn’t disturb you. We have grown used to it here -in the house. As to the office that father----” - -“I am only one of the voters in this town,” he said brusquely. The -kindly sympathy had suddenly gone out of his face. A curious feeling -of hostility entered his heart. The sudden angry thought came to him in -these surroundings, and with that element on the other side of the door, -“I’m only Seth Look’s boy, to be pitied, then used, then pitied some -more and tossed aside.” - -“There is no one who exerts as much influence as you,” she persisted. -“But I don’t appeal to you to secure for my father an office to which he -is entitled by all fair play.” Her tone was proud now. “I only ask you -to restrain that wretched brother of yours, who apparently has come -back to this town simply and solely to make trouble. He is meddling in -affairs that do not concern him; he is stirring up strife and factions -in our town, and for the credit of Palermo and your family it is your -duty to put him where he belongs.” - -The subdued clicking of a spring ratchet had sounded in the other room, -and now the music box started in again on “Where is My Wandering Boy -To-night?” - -“Where he belongs, eh?” he said in a voice that he tried to make calm. -“And where would that be?” - -“Well, somewhere so far away that we’d never again hear the bellow of -that elephant and the discord of that brass band,” she replied smartly, -for the suppressed sneer in his tone touched her. - -“So it’s my wild beast brother who is responsible for all the troubles -of your father, and you want me to cage him and ship him out of town?” - -He scowled at the door that shut off the music box and its persistent -operator. - -“Night after night my poor old father sits there in his office alone, -white and sick and weak and----” - -“I’ve seen a poor old father sit up nights, too,” he broke in, “and he -was sitting up fighting off mortgages and executions and bills of sale -let loose on him by _your_ father before he tucked himself away on his -bed of down. Don’t let us get to comparing fathers, Sylvena! It will not -be profitable.” - -His tone was harsh and his eyes flashed. - -“But it’s _my_ father,” she cried, “and I’ll fight for him. It’s well to -know who all our enemies are. I was shocked and disappointed, Phineas, -when you----” - -“Not one word about that affair--not a word from you!” he commanded. -“You can tell me nothing that I don’t know and understand.” - -She paused stammeringly, frightened by his heat. After a moment she rose -and pushed back her chair. - -“If I am to class you with your brother,” she began, but he checked her -again by a furious exclamation. He stood up and threw upon his chair the -soft hat that he had been crumpling between his broad palms. The music -box kept on its monotonous tune. - -“That’s enough about my brother--enough!” he cried. “You are bound to -have it that he is the man who has made your father sleepless and old, -and childish and haggard. You are facing Hime Look--the Look family, as -though it were your only enemy, when the wolf is behind you, Sylvena, -behind you!” - -His voice was so intense that she cast a look over her shoulder -instinctively. - -He came close to her, took her by both arms and held her so. - -“You listen to me,” he said, with tone of the master. “I don’t know very -well how to make love. I never have known. I even was fool enough and -quixotic enough to think I’d let another man have you if that would make -you happy. But I know now that I wouldn’t. I know that you are mine. -I’m going to be so much of a braggart now--so conceited that you won’t -recognise me! I’m going to say to you that you have never loved any one -else but me, and you never will love any one else. But life has been -too easy for you, Sylvena, and your heart has never been stirred and -awakened like the hearts of some of us poor devils. You have followed -your one duty as you saw it. Others have filched from me, who deserved -it most, this bit of love, that bit of loyalty. Now I, Phineas Look, -stand forth here and demand my own. Understand me! I demand it. You are -mine, Sylvie Willard, because I love you better than myself. You are -mine because you love me. You are mine because you need my arm about you -in the bitterest hour of your life. That hour is now upon you. I’m going -to strike the blow, Sylvie, because it will make you mine.” - -His voice trembled in sympathy for her. But he went on: - -“It is not my brother who is keeping your father awake. It is King -Bradish, the rascal, the sneak, the drunken villain who has plunged him -into ruin. It has been weeks--yes, months--since you or your father, or -even his own mother, have received a word from him.” - -He checked the expostulation that was on her lips. Her eyes were wide -and fixed on his. Her face worked pitifully. - -“His mother has lied for him. You have lied for him, Sylvie, because -your father asked it of you. I know all about it. There are times when -a woman’s lie for a man is holy, but not in this case. I say to you that -King Bradish is a profligate drunkard, a thief--a worse than thief, -for he has dragged your father into dishonesty as well as ruin. There! -There’s the bitter blow. Bear it, Sylvie, bear it, for it will make a -truer, nobler woman of you.” - -Her knees trembled so that he put his arm about her. The music box -started in once more on the same tune. - -With a growl under his breath he placed the half fainting woman on her -chair, strode into the hall and entered the other room by a side door. -He seized the music box from the lap of the astonished and frightened -operator, slammed up a window and threw it as far as he could. Its -plaintive query ceased in a crash. - -He found Sylvena on her knees beside the chair, clutching the rungs and -staring into vacancy. He knelt beside her and took her white face into -his strong hands. - -“Little girl,” he said, “forgive all of my brutal ways. Forgive what I -just did. But perhaps it was that infernal tune that made me so cruel -with you and so blunt. I love you! I love you! I can’t say that with all -the pretty words that some men use, for I haven’t had practice, Sylvie. -Please put that much to my credit. But I love you. I cannot _say_ any -more---but I can _do!_” - -His voice was firm and full of rugged encouragement. - -“I have told you the bitter truth about your father. Honesty is best -between folks who are going to be married.” He spoke this with a tone of -conviction that brought her astonished gaze up to meet his. “You had to -know it. I have told you. You are a brave woman, and you can bear it. -You can bear it because from this moment I put my body, my strength, my -brains, my love, my eternal devotion between you and all those who -would be your enemies. Your battles are now my battles. My ways must -henceforth be your ways. I have told your father that I would help. Go -and talk with him, poor girl. The truth is bitter, but it’s time now to -be honest. Don’t say anything to me now. I have said enough for both. -And I am going away to do my best for you and yours, knowing that a good -and true woman will be ready some day to tell me that she loves me best -of all the world.” - -He still held her face between his hands, and bent and kissed her on her -forehead and then on her lips. She attempted to say something, but he -gently kissed her once more to check her speech, then rose, took his hat -from the chair and went out of the house. - -The old dog was waiting for him on the porch, and gave him an amiable -glance from appreciative eyes. - -“It isn’t the sort of wooing that’s laid down in the books, Eli,” - muttered the Squire; “but I reckon that when you’ve made up your mind -that a thing really belongs to you the best thing to do is to go right -ahead and replevin.” - - - - -CHAPTER XX--PALERMO’S “MARCH MEETIN’” - -HOW IT WAS PLANNED TO BE RUN, AND HOW IT WAS RUN - - - When a hen is bound to set - - Seems as if ’tain’t etiket - - Dousin’ her in water till - - She’s connected with a chill. - - Seems as though ’twas skursely right - - Givin’ her a dreadful fright, - - Tyin’ rags around her tail, - - Poundin’ on an old tin pail, - - Chasin’ her around the yard-- - - Seems as though ’twas kind of hard - - Bein’ kicked and ammed and shooed - - ‘Cause she wants to raise a brood. - - --Meditations by Bill Benson’s Boy. - - -Palermo’s town house is like a roofed dry goods box, its clapboards -unpainted and weather-beaten. It is perched on the gray ledges of -Cross Hill in the centre of the town in order to accommodate the three -villages, and here in lonely state, with no other building nearer than -half a mile, it faces a buffet from every gale and a drenching from -every storm. It is opened once each year--for the annual town meeting in -March. - -Solomon Norton, who combined in his person the duties of Palermo’s -hearse driver, sexton and custodian of public buildings, struggled with -the rusty padlock on the outer door of the town house, and then stamped -in and sniffed at the musty atmosphere. The March sun was just rising, -and Solomon Norton was in good season. - -“Canned terbacker smoke and left-over speeches,” he growled. “I donno -which smells wust.” - -He forced up the warped windows and began to sweep with a stout broom. -The floor was thickly sprinkled with stale sawdust, in which were -flotsam of charred matches, cigar stubs and pipe dottles. The crumpled -ballots of last year’s election lay scattered everywhere. In a few -moments the March breezes were playing with the dust clouds that rolled -from open doors and windows. - -The early vanguard of Palermo’s voters was even then on hand--a few men -grouped around horses of uncertain age, whose points and pedigrees they -were discussing with animation. The first “shift” of the day had already -been made, and a tall man with ginger-coloured whiskers was unbuckling -the harness from a stump-tailed bay horse. The man who had traded with -him was as briskly taking the harness from a rangy gray mare. - -“Now honest, Lem,” whined the tall man over his shoulder, “what’s the -‘out’ with her? ’Tain’t fair if you don’t tell me, if it’s anything -dang’rous.” - -The other man chuckled, and the tall man repeated his plaintive appeal. -But it was only after the transfer of harness had been completed that -the ex-owner of the gray mare replied: - -“It’s understood there ain’t goin’ to be no backin’ outs?” he inquired, -after he had again poked a swelling on the stump-tailed horse’s leg and -noted with satisfaction that the animal did not wince. “I gen’-rally -believe in lettin’ t’other feller find the ‘outs’ for hisself.” - -“I ain’t goin’ to cry-baby unless she’s a biter--and swappin’ biters -ain’t no fair,” protested the tall man. - -“No danger of her bitin’ anything harder’n porridge with them teeth,” - said the man called Lem, with great good humour. “I’d jest’s soon tell -ye. She’s high pressur’.” - -“Wind’s broke, hey?” - -“’Ep!” - -“Bad?” The tall man eyed the gray mare with interest. - -“Wa-a-al,” drawled the other, buckling the ends of his reins and -preparing to climb into his waggon, “she ain’t blowed out ary cylinder -head yit, but she sartinly does whistle loud enough so’t your wife can -git supper ready on to the table after she begins to hear ye comin’.” - -The bystanders laughed, and Lem climbed into his waggon in still greater -good humour. He turned a beaming face on the new owner of the gray mare. - -The aforesaid owner of the gray mare was not a whit disconcerted. He -pulled a bit of strap iron from his pocket and pinched it over the -mare’s nostrils. - -“There’s some ‘outs’ that’s wusser’n whistlin’,” he said mysteriously -as he adjusted the strap iron. “You might as well git your laugh in now, -Lem. There’s nothin’ like gittin’ in a laugh at one end or t’other of a -trade.” - -Most of Lem’s gayety left him, and he looked at the stump-tailed horse -with some anxiety. - -“Now look-a-here, Ben,” said he, “I don’t want no circus animile tucked -off onto me to-day, for I’ve took a contract from Hime Look to haul some -of the old lamed-up codgers to town meetin’.” - -“You didn’t say nothin’ to me about your contracts,” replied the tall -man, clawing a freckled hand through his beard. “All I got to say is, -lamed-up old codgers better crawl here on their hands and knees instead -of ride with you. Now, you know there ain’t goin’ to be no backin’ outs -on this trade,” he expostulated as he saw a dubious look come on Lem’s -face. - -“Who said there was goin’ to be?” retorted the other. He started to lay -the reins down across the dasher with the evident intent of getting out -to investigate his purchase a little closer, when the horse, who had -been peering around at him from the corner of a bloodshot eye, performed -a sudden and surprising action. He whirled his stump of a tail as though -it worked on a pivot, clutched the reins under it, and started with a -jump that lifted both fore wheels of the waggon off the ground. - -The man tugged desperately at the reins, his feet against the dasher, -but the “webbin’s” remained fixed under the tail, and the horse kept on -down the muddy road with speed undiminished. When the outfit went out of -sight around a turn the man was down on his knees tugging at the stump -and shouting “Whoa!” - -“I reckon,” said the possessor of the gray mare, twirling a strand of -his ginger-coloured beard into a spill and reflectively tickling his -nose, “that Lem has got holt of a pa’snip there that he won’t pull up in -no great hurry. That’s a hoss,” he continued, turning to the bystanders, -who had watched the runaway with astonished silence, “that I got -plastered on to me about three weeks ago and then found out that I’d -got holt of that Iron Tail Ike, as they call him. He’s give more folks a -h’ist than any other hoss in this county.” - -“What will happen to Lem?” inquired one of the men. - -“It all depends on how high he flies and what he strikes on when he -comes down,” calmly answered the tall man. - -“Hoss swappin’ is hoss swappin’, of course,” said another in the group; -“but this sellin’ folks blastin’ powder with red hair on it ain’t very -neighbourly, as I look at it.” - -“Any man that grins at me ’cause he thinks he’s got me stuck and sells -himself out to haul voters for that Hiram Look can nat’rally expect -to have somethin’ comin’ to him and can’t blame nobody if it comes,” - replied the callous tall man. “I’m goin’ to haul men that will vote for -law and order in this town and for them that’s allus led us as citerzens -ought to be led--and that’s with pride and dignity. This slambangin’ -style and tryin’ to throw down good men ain’t my notion, and I’m goin’ -out to hunt up folks that think my way.” - -He hopped over the wheel, tucked his long legs under the waggon seat, -and drove away, the gray mare wheezing past the restraining strap iron. - -A man who had been standing in the lee of the town house trying to light -his pipe came away coughing and strangling. - -“A chap that runs a threshing machine, like I do, can stand a fair -amount of dust,” he said, wiping the tears from his eyes; “but I got -a couple of whiffs from the tail-end of ‘Wolf’ Doughty’s last year’s -speech as it come out o’ that winder there, and I’ll be blamed if it -didn’t almost put me out of bus’ness.” The men in the little crowd -grinned at him. - -“I’m hearin’ that it will be a hotter one that ‘Wolf’ makes this year,” - said one of the men. “He’s got most of the Dunham deestrick crowd lined -up ag’inst Squire Phin’s clique this year.” - -“Hime let him have four hundred on a second mo’gidge,” said another. -“You hold a silver dollar in front of ‘Wolf’ and he can’t see over nor -around it.” - -“Oh, it goes furder back this time,” returned the first speaker. “The -Dunham deestrickers ain’t ever forgive the Squire for yankin’ the -Haskell girl away from ’em just when they was gittin’ ready to make -a meal off her. It’s lucky the women-folks out that way can’t vote. I -reckon they’d swing town meetin’ ag’inst him.” - -“It’s li’ble to be swung, as ’tis,” rejoined another man. “I tell -ye Hime Look is cuttin’ a bigger swath in this town nowadays than most -folks realise. It’s money that talks, and he’s been puttin’ out a lot of -it one way and another.” - -“It’s a fact, ain’t it, that him and the Squire don’t hitch at all?” - queried a bystander as he crooked his leg to light a match. - -“Wa-a-al,” drawled another voter humorously, “Hime ain’t tried to black -the Squire’s eye yit, the same as he has most others in town, but I -shouldn’t be a dummed bit surprised if it come to that unless they stop -brustlin’ up at each other.” - -“Hime wants to look out for his buttons,” observed the man who had -lighted his pipe. “’Cordin’ to stories that have passed ’round town -since King Bradish went away the shoulder hitters ain’t confined to one -branch of the Look fam’ly.” - -Solomon Norton came out and got a huge basket of clean sawdust from the -tail of his waggon. - -“Put on plenty this year, Sol,” called one of the men. “It’ll be needed -to sop up the blood.” - -The soil of the town-house yard, soggy from the March rains, began to -thaw as the sun grew higher and warmer. In increasing numbers waggons -gullied and rutted it. Mud dripped from the wheels and was splattered -on the backs of the voters. Men arrived in pairs or in fours, in narrow -buggies or in double-seated waggons, whose bodies bumped upon the axles -as the wheels slumped into the highway honey-pots. The seiners from the -Cove road, whose horses were their dories, clubbed together and came -in hay-racks. To the front rail of one of these a joker had fastened -a sprit-sail, and the lead horse had a pennant floating from a little -staff set into his bridle. - -Before nine o’clock the yard was well filled with men, most of them -assembled in knots that constantly changed personnel as voters trudged -through the sticky ooze from one to the other, shouting jovial greetings -or mumbling certain confidences in undertone. The town clerk, the -selectmen and a constable or two had gone into the town house, trailing -mud upon Solomon Norton’s fresh sawdust; but the main body of the voters -remained outside. The assemblage wore a general air of expectancy. - -But the citizens of Palermo were certainly not expecting one spectacle -that day. - -When the Willard family carriage scraped its muddy wheels against the -platform in front of the town house Squire Phineas Look was the first to -lift the flap and step out. He gave his hand to Judge Collamore -Willard, whose thin leg trembled as he put out his foot to grope for the -platform. - -The space before the door was thronged with men, and the Squire, who -held the old town treasurer’s arm, waited for them to open a passage. - -There was a certain grave dignity on the Squire’s face that morning that -the men of Palermo had not been accustomed to see there before. Their -old, free-and-easy greeting seemed out of place now. It was not because -they were astonished at beholding him in company with Judge Willard. -Nor was it the presence of the Judge that restrained them. Somehow, Phin -Look was different, and they instinctively realised it. His isolation -during the past few months while he had been engrossed in his work, the -knowledge that the outside world had begun to give him honour and money, -accounted for a part of the respect that Squire Phin suddenly detected -in the eyes of his townsmen, but there was something in his bearing more -potent still--the intangible aura of the man who had suddenly come to -full knowledge of himself and his abilities. - -That intangible something had been in his face, in the poise of his -body, in the straightening of his shoulders and the lift of his chin -ever since he had walked out of the parlour of the Willard house. It is -not surprising that the assembled voters of Palermo did not understand -it, because Squire Phin did not wholly understand it himself. He passed -among them with quiet greetings that made those upon whom they fell -grow warm with pleasure and pride. Selfaggrandisement can bestow no -such favours. The people of Palermo, unconsciously almost, had suddenly -elevated their best citizen to the height his merit but not his modesty -claimed. And through that subtle attribute that attaches to such -elevations they were correspondingly proud of him. - -The voters closed in behind the two and followed them into the town -house, mumbling surmises to account for this astonishing situation. - -“Politics makes strange bedfellers, so they say,” observed Deacon -Burgess, squinting at the Squire and the feeble old man whom he was -leading, “but if them two there don’t have nightmares and git to kickin’ -each other it will be somethin’ to be talked about in words that ain’t -laid down in the dictionary.” - -But the surge into the town house was promptly succeeded by a rush for -outdoors. The bellow of band music summoned them. - -Fully appreciating what the dramatic stood for, Hiram Look had timed -his arrival carefully. He wanted all the voters to witness it. His eight -horses drew the band chariot, whose gilt and glass were resplendent, -even through the mud-streakings. The showman drove, perched upon the -high seat, his new silk hat flashing in the March sun. But the hat was -dwarfed on that occasion. - -Simon Peak sat beside him, and for the first time since Palermo had -known him Simon Peak was really erect. It was his initial appearance as -drum-major of the “Look Cornet Brass Band.” His trousers were white, -his coat was crimson, with huge yellow shoulder knots, and an absolutely -gigantic bearskin shako towered from his head. When the big waggon swung -into the town-house yard the voters got a peep at the new uniforms of -the bandmen and, inspired by the gorgeous spectacle and by the lively -music, broke into a cheer. - -Hiram’s grim features relaxed. He wheeled his horses skilfully and -brought the big cart to a standstill opposite the crowded platform, -twisted the reins about the brake bar, arose and removed his hat. - -The ruling passion of the mob is the same in Palermo as it is in the -metropolis. - -“Speech!” yelled the crowd enthusiastically above the blare of the -instruments. - -“It ain’t no time, gents, for speeches now and here,” said Hiram Look -in the first silence. “I only want to present to you, the voters of the -town of Palermo, your new brass band, with the tallest drum-major in -New England, if not in the whole world. It’s a band that no one can be -ashamed of. It has taken enterprise and hard work to _get_ it to goin’. -It needs a boost from the voters of this town to _keep_ it goin’. A word -to the wise is sufficient. This ain’t no time for speeches, as I’ve just -said, but I want to ask you, one and all, to show me and this band here -to-day that you appreciate it when a man comes into the place and lets -out a few reefs and tries to get the grand old town of Palermo sailin’ -on a new tack.” - -It was the younger men who cheered now, as they had cheered before. -The older voters, from natural gravity and other reasons of a personal -nature, were silent. Many of them went back into the town house -grumbling about “hitchin’ circus fol-de-rols on to a bus’ness town -meetin’.” - -This faction, which was a very considerable one, glared when the band -marched in behind its Gargantuan major and set the windows to rattling -with one of its liveliest airs. In the close, low-ceiled room the uproar -of the instruments and the clamour of the drums made hideous din of the -music. - -“I’ll be deefer’n a haddock if this keeps up,” growled Uncle Lysimachus -Buck to Marriner Amazeen. “There don’t seem to be no law and order to -nothin’ in this town nowadays. It strikes me it’s about time for P’lermo -to set down on Hime Look, and set down so hard that he won’t get the -creases out of him for awhile.” - -The town clerk, a thin, hump-shouldered little man, stood beside a -rickety table on the platform, his huge cane poised ready to pound for -order, and waiting with manifest impatience for the band to finish. He -began to whack the table the moment the echoes of the music died away, -and while the voters were shuffling to their places on the settees read -the warrant for the meeting in a shrill voice. - -Hiram Look had planned to win the first move that day and elect a -moderator from his own faction. The keynote of his canvass had been -“Give some one else a show!” His whole campaign had been an attempt to -stir factional feeling in town. - -“It’s a mighty dead-and-alive place that let’s one clique run it year -after year and lead you all by the nose,” he had stormily argued. “You -might’s well have an emp’ror for life and be done with it.” - -He had promptly won the element that is always jealous of those in -authority, almost as promptly enrolled the unstable element that is -ready to follow new gods when a band leads the procession, and after -a little effort had succeeded in convincing many voters, who had never -stopped to think of the matter before, that they were being cheated of -their rights of representation in town affairs. He had talked to them -until they were bitter with his own bitterness. But he did not let drop -one word of the sensation that he planned to precipitate. - -The moment the clerk stopped reading “Wolf” Doughty was on his feet with -a fiery harangue that wound up in denunciation of the men who had bossed -the town so long. He declared that it was time for a new deal, and -nominated Deacon Burgess as moderator. The band attempted to play when -he finished, but the little clerk rapped it into silence, though he -split his table in doing so. The name of Deacon Burgess was uproariously -seconded by Hiram’s claque. - -But Squire Phin had been prepared for just such an outbreak. He arose -and said that he would assume that Mr. Doughty’s remarks had reference -to him, who had served the town as moderator for so many years. He -reminded the voters that he had acted in the capacity because he had -annually been requested to preside by the unanimous voice of the voters. -He had always felt that others should share in this honour, he said, and -this year he should do what he had before intended to do--refuse the use -of his name. - -There was so much of gentle rebuke in his tone, and in his air such -quiet dignity, that Doughty’s flaming speech became a piece of insolence -that the voters were manifestly anxious to repudiate. - -At this psychological moment, foreseen by the Squire’s sagacity, one of -his lieutenants nominated the teacher of the high school at the upper -village, and the natural, sudden impulse of the meeting did the rest. - -Deacon Burgess was snowed under. - -Hiram Look, in the midst of his adherents, fully understood all the -guile under this apparently innocent manoeuvre, and twisted his trailing -moustache and glared at his brother with malice. - -In a similar manner the rest of Hiram’s slate was broken. He had trained -his speakers to go against the opposition with all the force of their -lungs and their invective. But the opposition didn’t appear to be there. -It was like fighting the summer breeze with a park of artillery. The old -office-holders were no longer candidates. New ones appeared, introduced -in calm, earnest speeches--men against whom no word could be said. Under -such circumstances the assaults by Hiram’s cabal began to sound like -bombastic nonsense, and there was too much Yankee hard-headedness in -that town meeting to listen patiently. - -Violent sentiments were greeted with laughter, and the men who persisted -in attacking the old régime were hooted down. - -While the tellers were counting votes for the third selectman Hiram -signalled his band to play up. But the moderator ordered silence and -sent two constables to enforce his commands. - -Hiram, endeavouring to shout remonstrance, was threatened with expulsion -from the hall. He had lost his grip on the situation. - -His supporters had not deserted him, by any means, but they were too -confused to act in concert. The new men were better men than their own -candidates. They were nominated with a certain spontaneity that disarmed -the opposition. Each time the polling was in progress Hiram stood on -a settee waving handfuls of ballots and shouting the name of his -candidate. But many voters who accepted slips from him secretly dropped -them upon the sawdust floor at a word whispered to them as they filed -along toward the ballot box. - -It was not until the meeting reached the election of a town treasurer -that the opposition saw its real opportunity. - -The Squire, who had made no nominating speech up to this time, secured -recognition from the moderator before Hiram’s lieutenant could struggle -to his feet, even though the showman had reached over two settees and -thrust a broad hand against his back. - -The lawyer walked to the little space before the platform and stood -there, his hands behind him, his expression amiable, yet with something -of that new determination in it that Palermo had just begun to note. - -“The hankering for new brooms is a natural and proper one, -fellow-townsmen,” he said, “and I am glad that Palermo has shown so -much good sense here to-day. We have chosen an admirable board of town -officers up to this time, and I am sure that those still to be elected -will be just as good and true men. You are now to choose a treasurer for -the town. We have plenty of good material for other officers, but I -want to say to you earnestly I am convinced that we have only one man in -Palermo who by training and ability is suited to be our treasurer. - -“It is an office that requires tact and good judgment, even though the -sums that pass through the hands of our treasurer are not large. -These qualifications are possessed in abundant measure by the present -incumbent of the office. But there is a personal reason why we should -reelect Judge Willard, and in a little town like ours--a neighbourhood, -you may call it, almost--a personal reason of this nature should -sway us. Judge Willard’s father and grandfather before him were town -treasurers. The office has become associated with the family name. It -will be recalled by you that no Willard has ever charged the town one -cent for his services. It is one of those peculiar cases where the -rule of rotation in office is overweighed by sentiment. I’ll confess -to having sentiment myself about this matter. I’d as soon be a party -to cutting down our big elm where Lafayette sat in the shade while his -dinner was being cooked at the old tavern.” - -His face grew grave. - -“I hardly think I need to state to the voters here to-day that the very -fact of my standing forth to make this plea for Judge Willard indicates -how necessary I think it is to put aside my personal feelings for the -sake of the town.” - -The expression on the faces of the listeners showed that they fully -understood his allusion. It required no very close observation to see -that Phineas Look, appealing for his old enemy, had won the majority of -his townsmen to his side. - -“I had heard that certain persons were planning to make a cowardly -attack on him here to-day, and I did not propose to have my attitude -toward him misunderstood, townsmen.” - -The Squire shouted this. - -“In Judge Willard’s presence I apologise for my frankness, but I say to -you that he is an old man, to whom certain small things--small honours, -if you care to say it--have much significance. I don’t believe the -voters of this town will venture to wound an old man by any lack of -generosity here to-day. I don’t believe they will listen to attacks made -on him to satisfy selfish spite. I ask you, therefore, to treat this -aged citizen with the consideration that is due to him. I ask you to -nominate him by acclamation.” - -He put both of his hands out to them, palms up, and smiled upon them -with appeal in his eyes. - -“That’s the way I feel about the town treasurer-ship, neighbours, and if -the most of you don’t feel that way, too, I shall be disappointed. Will -you not make it by acclamation?” - -So accustomed were his townsmen to see the Squire at the head of their -meetings that there was a chorus of “Ayes!” A half dozen men popped up -and seconded his proposal. Squire Phin did not attempt to speak above -this clamour, but smilingly motioned toward the moderator and took his -seat beside Judge Willard. - -The aged treasurer, during the time that the lawyer was speaking, sat -twisting his thin hands under his shawl. His head swayed from side to -side with a tremulousness that no one had observed in him before. His -eyes were fixed appealingly on the face of his sponsor. - -“You set down!” roared a voice. The voters turned and beheld Hiram -shaking his fist at the man who was striving to present the name of the -opposition candidate. “Set down, I tell ye! I’ll ’tend to the rest of -this thing myself and do it right.” - -“Question! Question!” shouted many voices. - -But the showman was not to be choked off. He leaped upon a settee and -roared, vibrating his fists above his head, until by dint of bellowing -he had driven the others into silence. - -“I’m a voter in this town, and I don’t propose to have bus’ness rammed -through without discussion. I know how some of you feel toward me. You -think that ev’rything I try to do I’m doin’ just to make trouble. You -give me the big end to h’ist ev’ry time. But I’m good for it!” - -He brandished his long arms above their heads. - -Again the voices broke out into cries of “Question! We want to vote!” - -“Vote! Vote!” he screamed, unable to control his passion. He had -intended to lead up to his sensation more skilfully. In his rage he now -fired it at them like a bombshell. - -“Vote for what? For a thief to be your town treasurer? For a man that -has stolen forty thousand dollars from this town? That’s what you’re -votin’ for. I can prove what I say. Now do you want to vote?” - -He leaned far over, propping himself on the shoulders of the man in -front of him, and gave them look for look. His sound eye blazed. - -He thrust out his arm and shook his long finger at the cowering Judge. - -“Ask him how many town notes are out with his name on ’em!” he yelled. -“Ask him--your honest old town treasurer, who has skun you as he would -skin a woodchuck, who has cheated, has stolen------” - -But now fifty men were on their feet howling threats and epithets at -him. - -“What shall I do?” screamed the moderator, leaning from the platform -and appealing to the Squire. - -“Tell the band to play! Pass the word. Tell the band to play,” the -lawyer replied. And the band, not understanding in that din of voices -from whom the order had emanated, struck into one of its most clamorous -selections, and kept on doggedly despite the hoarse objurgations of -Hiram. He finally stood up and wiped his dripping face and let them go -on. But he swore under his breath with the vigour of a captain whose own -guns had been trained on him. - -While he stood there, high on the settee, waiting for the band to play -through to the end, Hiram singled out several men in the crowd with his -eye, and promptly on the heels of the last blare he shouted: - -“Sumner Badger--you, there, Sum Badger! You, Ezra Mayo! You, Nelson -Clark! You are hidin’ town notes with Collamore Willard’s name on ’em. -You can’t stand up here in town meetin’ and say that you aren’t. This -town thinks it only owes two thousand. Ask those men, you voters! -They’ve let Collamore Willard have fifteen thousand between ’em. Ask -’em!” - -He waited, and the assemblage turned amazed and inquiring gaze on the -men. - -Badger stood up first. - -“I’m free to say, and I’ll swear it on a stack of Bibles, that there -ain’t a cent owin’ me from this town.” - -“You’re an old liar,” yelled Hiram. - -“I’ll bet you five thousand dollars, even money, and put it into the -hands of any one you say?” Badger shrieked excitedly. “And there’s a -taste of your own med’cine that you’ve been so willin’ to ladle out to -the rest of us. Put up or shet up!” - -This sturdy retort caught Hiram napping, and his open mouth and the -confusion on his face showed it. - -The other men whom he had called upon leaped up and made similar -overtures of wagers. - -The crowd began to laugh boisterously. - -For the first few moments the voters had wavered between shocked -astonishment and anger. But the town understood so well the showman’s -extravagances of speech and actions that on second thought this last -performance seemed only another of his prodigious bluffs. Now to behold -him badgered in the same fashion in which he had badgered Palermo, and -backing away from the bets, was too much for their risibilities. The -more they laughed the more utter became his confusion. The whole thing -had turned out so differently from what he expected. - -“I’ll bet ye five thousand to two,” shrilled Badger, excited by his -success and by the applause. “And I’ll stump ye to bet! I’ll stump ye!” - -The mirth broke out again, for Hiram pulled out his handkerchief and -scrubbed it over his reddening face. - -“This has gone far enough, townsmen!” called the Squire. “It isn’t -seemly to conduct town affairs in this manner.” - -He had mounted the platform, and his firm tones quieted them. - -“It isn’t seemly, either, for an irresponsible person to lose his head -and make accusations that he cannot back up. It is a deplorable thing -that has just happened here, townsmen.” - -They all became grave with his gravity. - -“No personal feelings of my own shall check me from saying that a man -who stands up in a public place and perpetrates criminal libel deserves -the severest punishment that the law has for such a crime. But under the -circumstances I ask from you this one bit of forbearance: It is that -you will forget what this person has said here and allow him to go, on -condition that he will not repeat his offence, here or elsewhere. If -he does--” the Squire’s face grew hard and stern--“I will prosecute him -myself, brother though he be of mine.” - -For a moment there was utter silence, and then, with callused palms and -thudding boots, the voters roared their applause. - -Hiram strode off the settee and into the centre aisle, and was about to -speak, his face black with rage. - -“Not another word, sir,” the Squire shouted. “Not one word, or I’ll -withdraw my protection.” - -But Hiram whirled at the door on his way out, unable to repress the -furious indignation that surged to his lips. He began to understand -the manner in which he had been cheated out of his vengeance. His anger -shifted from the voters, who had so blindly followed, to the man who had -led them--and that man was his brother. - -“I’ll bet ye ten thousand dollars to one that I know who lifted the lid -that let the old rat out of his trap,” he shouted. His eye flamed redly -on Phineas. “It took ready money to do it. It was your money, Phin Look! -Some of it was money that I earnt! Our old father turned in his grave -this day. I stand here before the whole of you and tell you, Phin Look, -that you are a----” - -“Constables, put that man out of this meeting!” commanded the Squire in -stentorian tones, and three brawny men who had followed Hiram down the -aisle and appeared to be awaiting just such an order hustled the showman -out of doors with much alacrity. - -Simon Peak marshalled the band behind him, and in a little while the big -waggon went rumbling out of the yard. - -But the band did not play. - -Later in the day, when this business was reached, the articles in the -warrant relating to the “Look Cornet Brass Band” and the investigation -of the accounts of the town treasurer, as well as the article requiring -bondsmen for the same, were killed by a hilarious viva voce vote. - -On their homeward way, after a long pause, Squire Look said: - -“Judge Willard, you have been able to see some of the visible results to -me for my share in helping you compound your felony. You are man enough -to understand what it means to go through a public scene like that with -a brother, who was right, even if he was misguided. I am ashamed to meet -him; I am almost ashamed to look my townsmen in the eye.” - -“But you agreed that it would have been worse the other way,” quavered -the old man. - -“There are people who talk of the right path,” broke out the lawyer -impatiently, “as though it were like this village road branching -from the four corners here; that all you need to do is to look at the -guide-board and go on. I may have got tangled up at that four corners -where you and I met the other day, Judge Willard, but I want to tell you -that I see a mighty straight road ahead of me now.” - -He clutched the old man’s arm and spoke low so that the driver on the -other side of the leather flap might not hear. - -“You have got to liquidate, Judge. You have got to put every cent -of property you have in the world into my hands in order that I may -untangle it. You may be town treasurer in name, but not one dollar of -the funds shall you handle. The widows and the orphans and the old folks -in this town must be paid to the last farthing. You are going out of -business---do you understand? You will resign the town treasurership -when I tell you to--and that will be when your books can be safely -turned over to some one else. You need not worry about exposure, for -the men who were paid and surrendered their town notes to me have their -tongues tied fast and solid by methods that I understand how to work. -Now for your own tongue! If you breathe one word to your daughter that I -supplied the money to square this thing, or that you owe me a cent, -I’ll drop you and your affairs as I’d drop a hot plate on to a brick -sidewalk. And you know what will happen then!” A moment later the Squire -checked the old man’s mingled promises and thanks with an impatient word -and sank back into a corner of the carriage. His ponderings could not -have been very satisfying, for he scowled and growled. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI--WHY HIRAM LOOK WENT OUT OF THE CIRCUS BUSINESS - -FOR GOOD AND ALL - - - Now study the ways of the world, my son; oh, study the ways of life! - - It’s the hustling chap that gets the cash or the girl he wants for his -wife; - - It’s the fellow that spots the place to grab, as Chance goes swinging -by, - - Who gets his dab in the juiciest place and the biggest plum in the -pie. - - --Philosophy of S. Peak. - - -It was almost the first of the warming days of April. Muddy little -brooks ran beside the highway, robins bounced along the turf, the waves -in the Cove sparkled in the mellow sunshine, and the silver poplars in -the Look dooryard bristled with catkins as long as one’s finger. One of -them dropped lightly upon the knee of the abstracted Hiram Look, sitting -in his chair on the porch, and he jumped and cuffed it, thinking it was -a green worm. - -“First spring I’ve seen them things for a good many years,” he growled, -squinting up into the branches. “For that matter, it’s the first spring -I’ve seen a good many things,” he added bitterly. He slouched down in -his chair, his hat-brim low over his eyes, smoked his long cigar and -watched the approach of Simon Peak, who was picking his way up the muddy -road. - -“There’s thirty-seven of ’em to-day, Hime,” said Simon, tossing a -packet of letters into the showman’s lap. “Some of ’em’s fat, and -there ought to be con-sid’able good readin’ for us.” He licked his lips -expectantly. - -Hiram joggled down the contents of an envelope and nipped off the edge -with broad nails. He passed the contents over to Peak, who fixed his -spectacles on his nose and promptly began to read aloud, his general air -showing that this was a regular daily programme. - -**** - -“‘Look & Peak--Gents: Seeing your ad. respecting show you are going to -start out with in near future, I would like side-show privilege for my -wife, who is the celebrated Fat Emma, with beard two feet long. She---- - -“Nothing to it!” growled Hiram, breaking in with disgust. “Tear it up.” - -“But there’s some kind of funny stuff about her here,” appealed Simon, -running his eye down the page. “It makes good readin’.” - -“Frame it, then, if you want to,” retorted the showman gruffly. “I don’t -want to listen to no such sculch.” He was nipping at the edge of another -envelope. - -Simon took advantage of the pause. - -“I see your brother steppin’ into Judge Willard’s office same as usual -this noon,” he said. - -“He can step into Tophet three times a day and fry steak if he wants -to,” snapped Hiram ungraciously. - -“Well, you asked me to keep tabs on him when I see him go in there, and -I’m doin’ it, ain’t I? I don’t see no need of yappin’ my head off when -I’m tellin’ you what you wanted me to tell you.” Simon was plainly -indignant. - -“You show altogether too much relish for stickin’ your nose into other -folks’ bus’ness,” said Hiram, still in bad temper. - -“You’re gittin’ to be wusser’n a quill-pig to live with,” Simon flung -back. “I don’t git more’n two decent words out of you from one day’s end -to another. I ain’t no husk door-mat for you to wipe your feet on, even -if I am poor and you’ve got your old forty thousand in the bank.” - -“You go ahead with your readin’,” barked Hiram, slapping open a letter. -“You want to get so that you can unpin that mouth o’ your’n without -saying forty thousand dollars ev’ry time, or I may stick my fist down -your gullet some day.” - -The giant read on sullenly. - -“‘Messers. Look & Peak---------’” - -“‘Gentlemen Sirs!’” thundered Hiram. “Ain’t I told you more’n five -hundred times how to read that? We ain’t ‘_Messers_.’” - -Peak surveyed the tyrant with baleful gaze and started to read again. - -While they were absorbed in their quarrel a woman had come tip-toeing -up the street past the muddy spots, and now she stood in front of the -porch--a thin, wiry, alert woman. Her voice startled them. She tripped -a few steps nearer and curtsied with extravagant politeness. Both arose -and doffed their plug hats before they saw her face. She tossed her head -to throw back a draggly plume that rested against her rouged cheek and -stared at them. - -“You don’t hold your ages as well as I do, boys,” she commented -flippantly. - -“It’s the old army game, gents,” squalled the parrot from his cage -overhead, excited by this new arrival, gay in colours and ribbons. - -“It’s _her!_” gasped Hiram. - -“It’s Signory Rosy-elly!” choked the giant. - -She came up and sat down beside them sociably in one of the porch -chairs. - -“Honest, boys, it was some time before I could place those names,” she -chattered. “‘Look & Peak’s Consolidated Aggregation,’ says I to myself. -‘Look & Peak,’ I says. And, thinks I, them two old codgers must have -gone to Kingdom Come. ‘Look & Peak,’ says I,” she went on cheerfully, -oblivious of the grim stares. “It’s their sons, I says, and so I come -right along, for I need the job.” - -“Didn’t that ad. say,” demanded Hiram, “that there wa’n’t goin’ to be no -personal interviews till later arranged for?” - -She poked each in turn with her parasol, “Oh, I knew if it was their -boys I’d be taken on after I’d explained the romantic part, which I -couldn’t do in a letter. But I don’t have to tell _you_, boys.” She -poked them jocosely again. - -“A little old, you say?” - -They had not spoken. - -“Why, not a bit of it for a jay-town circuit. Of course, it isn’t -a three-ringer job for me any more, or else I wouldn’t be down here -talking to Look & Peak. But I’m still good for it all--rings, banners, -hurdles, rump-cling gallop, and the blazing hoop for the wind-up. You -know what I can do, boys. Remember old times. Take me on for old times’ -sake.” She gave each one the leer of the faded coquette. - -Hiram was the first to recover, for the edge of his regret had been -dulled by the long course of treatment he had received from Simon. This -worn-out creature completed the job. - -“Ain’t you ashamed to face us two?” he rasped. “You that run away from -_me_ and ruined _him?_” - -“My sakes!” she cried. “You ain’t so unprofessional as to remember all -that silliness against me, are you? I was only a girl then, and you -couldn’t expect me to love you--either of you. I’m a poor widow now,” - she sighed, “and I need work. You don’t mean to say that you’ve been -layin’ up grudges against me all these years--the two of you? What would -your wives have said?” - -“We never got married,” returned Look and Peak in mournful duet. - -“You’re lucky!” she snapped. “I married a cheap, worthless renegade, -and he stole my money and ran away. He fell off a trapeze and broke his -neck, and I was glad of it.” - -“So’m I,” grunted Hiram, casting a soulful glance at Simon. “No, I -ain’t, either,” he corrected himself hastily. “I’m sorry he didn’t live -to torment you. No,” he roared, “I ain’t sorry for anything, except it -was poor Sime Peak’s money the two of you got away with.” - -Peak sighed. - -“But I want to say to you, Signory Rosy-elly,” went on Hiram, tipping -his hat to one side and hooking his thumb into the armhole of his vest, -“it wa’n’t _my_ money you got, and it never will be my money you’ll get. -You just made the mistake of your life when you run away from me, and -you can chew that cud for the rest of your life.” - -“He’s got forty thousand dollars in the bank,” hoarsely whispered Simon -behind his hand, willing to add his mite to her discomfiture. - -“Correct!” agreed Hiram. It was really a moment worth waiting for -through the years, he reflected. - -“Twenty can play as well as one,” croaked the parrot, his beady eye -pressed between the bars of his cage. - -The signora glanced up at this new speaker, eyed Absalom with a sage -look that he seemed to return, and, after a moment of thought, said: - -“Thanks for the suggestion, old chap! Three can play as well as two. -Now, Look, you know that I’m always outspoken and straight to the point. -No tinderhanded bluff for me. I’m going to sue you for ten thousand!” - -“Crack ’em down, gents!” remarked Absalom with grim patness. - -Hiram could not resist casting a malevolent stare at the unconscious -humourist in the cage. - -For one startled moment he stared at the woman in fear, and then, -recovering composure, tilted his cigar in the corner of his mouth with -cocky assurance. - -“I want to know,” he blurted sarcastically. “Breach of promise, I -_per_-sume?” - -“Good aim! You’ve rung the bell!” replied the lady coolly. - -The impudence of the bare suggestion fetched a gasp from both men. - -Hiram was striving to be haughtily indifferent and disdainful. But this -thrust was too much for his composure. He felt one of those old-time -fits of rage come bristling up the back of his head, the fury of old, -when he had tried to wither that same giddy creature in his spasms of -jealousy. - -But she broke in on him with the same icy assurance that used to put him -out of countenance. - -“I know all that, Look. But how are you going to prove that I’ve been -married? Where are you going to hunt for witnesses? Professional people -are like wild geese--roosting on air and moulting their names like -feathers. You two are going to seem like a couple of old frauds standing -up in court against me! You haven’t got the first elements of acting to -you! Observe how I take my cue! Jury a-listening! I’ve been hunting the -world over for you. You hid here. Here I find you--I, a poor, deserted -woman, whose life has been wrecked by your faithlessness. Me with a -crape veil, a sniff in my nose, crushed-creature face make-up and a -smart lawyer, such as I have in mind this very minute. And the jury -knowing that you’ve got the money! Why, Look, you can save thousands by -handing me your bankbook!” - -In his fury Hiram grabbed her chair and tipped it forward violently in -order to dump her off his sacred porch. She flew out into space with -a flutter of skirts, landed as lightly as a cat, and pirouetted on one -toe, crooking her arms in the professional pose that invites applause. - -“This is the first time Signora Rosyelli, champion bareback rider, ever -tried to ride a mule,” she chirped, “but you see she can do it and make -her graceful dismount to the music of the band. I’ll be at the tavern -down here two days, ready to listen to any kind of talk that combines -pleasure and profit. After that you take your own chances.” - -She tossed to each of them a kiss from her finger-tips and went -switching jauntily down the road. - -“That beats Tophet and repeat!” remarked Simon after a time. He had -watched her nearly out of sight. - -Hiram held his peace. - -“What are you goin’ to do?” his friend inquired falteringly at last. - -“Fight her!” roared Hiram, leaping to his feet and striding up and down -the porch. “Fight her clear’n to the high, consolidated Supreme Court -aggregation of the United States, or whatever they call it!” - -“Nobody has ever beat her out yit, except Delly-bunko, and we ain’t in -his class,” sighed Simon, with much despondency. - -“You don’t think, do you, that I’m goin’ to set down and lap my thumb -and finger and peel her off ten thousand dollars?’” - -“Well, it’s lucky that you’ve got a brother that’s the smartest lawyer -in the county,” said Peak, with an attempt at consolation. “He has -showed that much out pretty plain, even to me. I never see him manage -anywhere, except in town meetin’, but I----” - -Hiram had been sunk in reverie, but this unfortunate remark brought him -out of it. - -“Hain’t I told you never to mention my brother to me except when I ask -you to?” he demanded fiercely. “I don’t want any man that I ain’t spoke -to for four weeks slung into my face. Hain’t I goin’ to take to the ro’d -again to get rid of him? If he was the last lawyer on God’s footstool he -couldn’t take a case for me.” - -He resumed his striding. - -“Why don’t you and she git married, and we’ll all live here happy ever -after?” suggested Peak, wistfully, following a period of pondering. “If -it was in a book it would end off like that--sure pop!” - -“Well, there ain’t no book to this, not by a dum-sight!” replied Hiram -tartly. - -“But it would settle one thing, and you ain’t hitched up in any other -direction,” persisted Simon stubbornly, yet warily. Hiram’s renewed -visits up country since he had so definitely and precipitately retired -from town affairs in Palermo had again been stirring the jealous fears -of the anxious old “grafter.” He feared the widow Abilene Snell with the -fear of the bird that sees the hunter approaching its nest. - -“I thought I told you never to twit me on that point again,” snarled -Hiram, trying to be calm. - -“I ain’t twittin’,” expostulated Simon. “If you hadn’t got so touchy -lately you would see that I ain’t twittin’. But if you ain’t no idee of -gittin’ married up country, why, you----” - -“You--shet--up!” shouted Hiram, with a wag of his head for each word. - -Long silence followed. - -“So you’re bound to go to court?” asked Peak, recovering courage when he -saw Hiram peering at him wistfully, as though seeking encouragement. - -“Low court--high court--clear’n to the ridge-pole---clear’n to the -cupoly, and then I’ll shin the weather-vane with the Star-Spangled -Banner of justice between my teeth.” He slapped his hand on his knee. - -“I heard a breach of promise trial once, a long time ago,” related -Simon, half closing his eyes in reminiscence. “Of course this ain’t -nothin’ to do with you and your case, but I can’t help sayin’ that that -trial was the funniest thing I ever heard. I never laughed so hard in my -life. It beat a show, that trial did. ’Twas all of twenty years ago, -and I’ll bet the people down there laugh yet when they see that feller -walk along the street. Them letters he wrote was----Is there letters in -your case, Hiram?” - -He turned an innocent gaze on the showman. - -Hiram mopped his face. - -“I--I b’lieve there was,” he faltered. “She flung out somethin’ about -havin’ ’em now. Mebbe she has. A cussed woman never loses anything -that you want her to.” - -“Oh, prob’ly your letters ain’t like his letters,” continued Simon, -trying to console. “You’ve got sense about such things. - -“But I remember that them letters that that feller wrote was certainly -the squashiest--why, ev’ry one of ‘em seemed to woggle jest like a -tumbler of jelly--sweet and sloppy, as you might say. It bein’ so long -ago when you wrote to her, I don’t suppose you remember just what you -wrote, do you?” - -His stare was still full of innocence. - -Hiram was sitting looking down into a knot-hole, a hot flush crawling -up from under his collar. He took off his plug hat and scuffed his wrist -across his steaming forehead. - -“But prob’ly yours was all good sense,” Simon went on. “Why, there was -men lugged right out of that court-room in hysterics, and had to be -pounded on the back by dep’ty sheriffs to bring ’em to. I remember -one letter called her ‘Ittikins, Pittikins, Popsy Sweet,’ and she was -settin’ there in the court-room with a face on her sourer’n a dill -pickle. Thought I’d die a-laughin’! Of course you didn’t git no such -sculch as that into your letters, and so the trial won’t be funny. But -you bein’ so prominunt now and havin’ forty thousand in the bank, and -bein’ known to a good many people ’round up country since Imogene’s -scrape there took you out amongst folks----” - -Hiram couldn’t detect any hidden meaning in Simon’s guileless mien -and reference to “up country,” and though he stared hard, he did not -interrupt. “As I say, bein’ now, as you might call it, a solid citizen, -it will certainly tickle folks somethin’ tremendous if there is any such -mushiness in your trial.” - -A student in physiognomy might have read that memory was playing havoc -with Hiram Look’s resolution. - -“I was tryin’ to think,” went on Peak, knuckling his forehead, “what it -was that the signory was tellin’ me that time when she rode away with -me. She’s such a liar that there ain’t no tellin’ nothin’ by what she -says, but it seems to me she told me that you called her something like -‘Sweety-tweety’ or ‘Tweeny-weeny girlikins’--somethin’ like that. She -lied, prob’ly, and of course you’d never put anything like that into a -letter. How them newspapers do like to string out things--funny kind -of things--when a man is prominunt and has got money in the bank! Folks -can’t help laughin’--they jest nat’rally can’t, Hime! There you’ll be -settin’ in that court-room lookin’ ugly as a gibcat, and her lawyer’ll -be readin’ them letters with that kind of sassy----” - -Hiram got up, kicked his chair off the porch, and in rage that he -couldn’t control he shook his fist under Peak’s nose. - -“Twit me another word--just one other word--and I’ll drive that old nose -of your’n clear’n up into the roof of your head!” - -He stumped away around the corner of the house and disappeared in the -barn. - -“If the Court ain’t mistook,” soliloquised Simon, settling himself into -a more comfortable position in his chair, “Hime Look has got at least -three elephants on his hands now. He’s got one out there in the barn -with him that eats hay, one down to the tavern that eats money, and one -up country that will eat him, if he don’t look out.” Then he spread his -handkerchief over his face and went to sleep. - -Hiram waked him up an hour or so later. - -“Sime,” he said humbly, “I’ve been out there set-tin’ down on the hay -and rememberin’ back about what I wrote to her--and it’s all of it -pretty clear in my mind, ’cause I never wrote love letters to any one -else. And I can’t face it. I can’t set in court and hear it. I couldn’t -ever face any one that knowed me here or elsewhere. - -“I couldn’t start on the ro’d with a circus and have the nerve to stand -in front of the big tent after it and bark like I used to. There’d be -somebody there a-knowin’ to it, and they’d grin me out of bus’ness. I’d -be backed into the stall. No, I can’t do it. If I git to talkin’ with -her again there’ll be murder done. It can’t be known that I’m havin’ any -truck with her. I can’t ever see her again. You got to go down, Sime, -and see what she’ll compromise for.” - -“It has got to be compromised, has it?” asked the other earnestly. A -little gleam in his eye showed that he had something on his mind--a -doubt that he wanted to satisfy at last. - -“Now the only way for us to go into this thing, Hime,” he said, “is -for both of us to be square and open. Don’t you yap out at me that I’m -nosin’ into your bus’ness or tryin’ to twit. But if you want this whole -thing fixed up secret, so that--so that--” he gulped--“so that your -widder up country won’t get track of it, then it’s only right for you to -tell me whuther your intentions up that way is serious.” - -For a little while Hiram scowled at his companion in perfectly fiendish -manner. - -“You talk about bein’ persistent!” he growled. “Talk about a bull-dog -hangin’ to a tramp’s leg! For four months conversation between us ain’t -ever took a turn but what you’ve tried to get your little gimlet into -me. Now ’cause you’ve got me into a corner you’re out with an auger. -Well, I’ll tell you, dum blast ye! I’m courtin’ Mis’ Snell, and I’m -goin’ to have her if she’ll have me. There! Chaw on that gumdrop a -while!” - -The showman glared at Peak and the latter shifted his gaze. - -“Much obliged,” he said. “There’s nothin’ like having straight facts to -go on.” - -He clapped his hat hard onto his head with a hollow tunk. - -“What’s the final instructions?” he inquired. - -“Nothin’ but to settle it as cheap as you can and shet her blasted -mouth,” returned Hiram, setting his elbows on his knees and looking -again into the knot-hole. - -If he had changed his steady gaze from the knothole two hours later, it -was not apparent to Simon Peak when he returned. - -“I wrassled with her, Hime, just as tough and tight as though it was -my own money that I was handlin’. If I done it right or not I donno. I -ain’t ever been used to talkin’ about so much money before. But I’ve got -her beat down to,” he drew a long breath, “sixty-six hundred, and -she swears she won’t take a cent less. You know how set she gits on a -thing!” - -Hiram bored him suspiciously with his eye for a moment and snarled: - -“It sounds to me as though she was goin’ to get five thousand and you -was pers’nally lookin’ after your little old sixteen hundred.” - -A couple of tears squeezed out and down over the giant’s flabby cheeks. - -“There ain’t a day passed since you got back from up country, Hime, but -what you’ve misjudged me some way, somehow. You misjudged me years ago. -You’re doin’ it this minit. And it’s all on account of some missabul -woman that I’m misjudged. I wish they was all in----” - -His voice broke here and he turned away. - -Sudden contrition, and as sudden fear that Peak, offended, might desert -him in his need, assailed Hiram. - -“I ain’t responsible for what I’m sayin’ to-day, Sime,” he pleaded. “You -know what has happened to stir me up. I’ve been stirred up all my life, -somehow. You’ll have to overlook it in me. There ain’t nobody I ever -got along with better’n I have with you--when all is said. I’ll show -you later that I appreciate it, too. We’ll get along together all right -after this. All is, you must see me through and keep her mouth plugged.” - -Then the two tall hats bent together in earnest conference. - -That evening one of Hiram Look’s horses, hitched to Hiram’s best -carriage, pranced up to the door of Fyles’ tavern, and the thin woman -hopped in lightly, snuggled herself down beside Simon Peak, and away -they went. - -In Simon’s inside pocket was one of Hiram’s bankbooks showing deposits -of a generous amount in one of the savings banks at the county shire. -Between its leaves was tucked an order signed by Hiram Look, and -directing that money should be paid over to Simon Peak, who would be -identified by one of the showman’s friends in the city. There were -blank spaces in the order for the insertion of the amount of money to be -drawn. - -“I’m going to show you what I think of you, Sime,” Hiram had declared in -a burst of enthusiasm. “You said I misjudged you. Well, here’s showin’ -you that I ain’t. I’m goin’ to leave that order blank ’cause I believe -in you. I’ll bet you’re friend enough of mine to beat her down another -notch. I’ll bet you can do it. Fill in the amount and draw when it’s -settled. Stay till you get them letters, put her on a train and come -back, and I’ll show ye that Hime Look appreciates a friend in need.” - -It was a piece of impulsiveness that worried the showman considerably -during the next day or two, as he sat watching for the head of the gray -horse to come bobbing around the alders. His hard life had taught him to -distrust men’s honesty and faith. He wondered as he sat there what had -influenced him to put so much trust in Peak on the spur of the moment. - -“It’s on account of gittin’ softened up by women, that’s what it is,” - he grunted in soliloquy. “There I was with a tin can tied to my tail and -runnin’ around in a circle and afraid of the two of ’em. No, I ain’t -afraid of Abby Snell! But it’s wuth more than one five thousand dollars -to keep it away from her that I ever fell in love with a circus woman -and wrote such letters as----” - -Again the red flush came up from under his collar. - -“Yes, I have trusted Sime,” he would mumble aloud, after he had stared -at the corner of the alders until his eye ached. “I’ve trusted him, I -say! But when your old neighbours and your own brother skins you, then -it’s time to turn to strangers and get used white. It’s your own folks -that do you the wust--it allus has been so, it prob’ly allus will be -so. But---I could go to the shire and ’tend to that bus’ness and crawl -back on my hands and knees before this. She was a-goin’ to telegraft for -them letters, cuss her!” - -On the third day, when “Figger-Four” Avery bobbed back from the -post-office with the mail, there was a thick packet among the letters -that Hiram opened first with trembling fingers, for he had recognised -Simon Peak’s handwriting. - -It was the letter wrapped around the bankbook that Hiram tackled first. -He skimmed it with his one eye bulging like a rabbit’s. It was in a way -an apologetic letter, and yet it was flavoured with a note of complaint. -Simon Peak went on to state that he had thought it all over prayerfully. -Each time that a woman had come into their affairs he had been -misjudged. Now that his suspicions as to the up-country widow had -been confirmed, he could plainly see that he would sooner or later be -misjudged again and, being old, he could not endure any more griefs of -the sort, seeing that Hiram was his best and his only friend. He was too -tender-hearted to stand it--and, besides, he had heard that the -widow was neater than wax and smarter than a hornet, and under her -administration spittoons and general freedom would have to be abandoned. -Moreover, he believed that the conscience of Signora Rosyelli had -troubled her ever since the episode of the sixteen hundred dollars. -Furthermore, letting her have all that money to go away with and do with -as she liked wouldn’t be the retribution that she deserved. It was too -much money for a woman to handle---- - -Hiram yanked open the bankbook and glared at the balance. There had been -a withdrawal of ten thousand dollars. - -In the more crucial moments of his life Hiram Look had frequently -refrained from anathema. Some situations were made too matter-of-fact by -cursing. Now he stood up, shoved his arms above his head, gulped a half -a dozen times, blew out his breath with a “Poof!” and sat down again. - -After wiping his forehead with the flat of his hand he went on with the -letter. - -Simon apologised for having overstepped the first estimates, but -explained that he had acted thus for reasons that must appeal to Hiram. -The sum was sufficient to make the signora want to stick to him, and -that would keep her away from Hiram. He had destroyed the letters and -buttoned the money into his inside pocket, and told her if she wanted -to enjoy any of it she must marry him. He said that as her husband he -should control affairs absolutely. The writer pointed out that this was -real retribution to such a woman, and he assured Hiram that he would -always strive to make her realise her position daily and hourly. Under -such circumstances the small extra amount that he had taken was moderate -salary indeed for the services he was rendering an old friend, and he -trusted that Hiram would hereafter enjoy life, knowing that a woman who -had betrayed him was getting punished for her infidelity. - -The postscript stated that he had kept the team as a wedding present, -and they were going to do the gift-sale graft at fairs from the -carriage--having now the necessary capital. With deep regard for him and -all inquiring friends, they were, etc. - -Hiram’s eye at last found the knot-hole in the platform, and he sat with -his elbows on his knees and regarded it for a long time. At first his -face was ridged and knotted with fury that his moving lips could not -express. Then there came grief in the puckers around his mouth--the -grief of a man who felt that the whole world was against him. - -He, sitting there--he who had not dared to meet the grinning voters -of Palermo since that town meeting, the man who now held this riddled -bankbook and that unspeakable letter crumpled in his grasp was the same -man who had boasted that no one had ever “done” him! - -He pulled off his tall hat in order to wipe his damp forehead. - -He regarded its fuzzy nap with growing malevolence. Somehow, it seemed -to suggest the braggart, the showman, grafting women, Simon Peaks and -the atmosphere of tricksters. He set it upon the platform, stamped it -into shapelessness, and then kicked it with all his might. It landed in -the top of the lilac bush. - -“Crack ’em down, gents!” squalled the parrot excitedly. He had been -watching his master with solicitude for many hours, and this sudden -activity reassured him. - -Hiram glanced up at Absalom with a vindictiveness that should have -warned the bird, and then sat down in his chair. He turned over Simon’s -letter, flattened it on his bankbook, and began to write on the surface -with a stubby lead pencil that he had licked carefully: - -“For Sale--One band waggon, one swan chariot, three lion cages, one -round-top----” - -He was interrupted. - -Squire Phin came up the little path from the road and took a seat on the -porch. - -Hiram bent his brows in a scowl and looked at him, pencil poised above -the paper. - -“I’ll make my business brief, brother,” said the lawyer, with a wistful -humility that pricked Hiram a bit, despite his rancour. “I realise how -you feel toward me, and I have not come upon your porch without good -reason. You may not have noticed that I have been away for a day or two, -for you haven’t been very much interested in my movements for some time. -But I have been absent. I’ve been at the shire on some law business. - -“One of my friends who is a trustee in the Union Savings Bank mentioned -to me that one Simon Peak, accompanied by a strange woman, had drawn ten -thousand dollars on your order, after having been identified by one -of the traders near by. I was inter-: ested enough to want to see that -order, and----” - -“Say, ain’t I got any bus’ness of any kind that I can ’tend to myself -without some one pokin’ in their nose?” demanded Hiram with fury. - -“I plead guilty to being a meddler, Hiram,” returned the Squire calmly. -“But I’ve taken the chances. I figured you could not dislike me any more -for doing this than you did before. And whatever else we are, you are my -brother, and Simon Peak is a man of whom I have always been distrustful. -I saw that the amount in the order had been filled in by some one else -than yourself. I didn’t know then what deal you could have with Peak. I -don’t know now, for I didn’t believe a word of the yarn he told me---but -the amount of the matter is, Hiram, I took measures to have Peak and his -companion followed and apprehended. I interviewed them privately; I made -them disgorge, and here is your money--all except a couple of hundred -dollars. I gave them that much and the team so that they could get out -of the State and not annoy you any more. You’ll not see them again. I -told them that I’d put the two of them into State prison as blackmailers -if they showed up here.” - -He laid a thick wallet upon his brother’s lap. - -“If I have meddled in your affairs, brother, forgive me. But I couldn’t -stand by and see two thieves run away with what you have worked so hard -to earn.” - -Hiram fumbled at the package a moment and then banged it down on the -platform, his face working with emotion whose nature was not easily to -be determined. - -“Just one moment, Hiram, before you reproach me,” said the Squire -hastily. “Wait! Not a word’ from you now! I’m going to take advantage of -this opportunity and be honest with you. You were right that day in town -meeting, brother. If in everything in this world we must hew to the line -of justice, you were right that day. But I tell you, Hiram, you and I -both have seen that it isn’t always safe to hew to the line. I stood -there fighting for the financial peace and confidence of our little -town, but most of all for the woman I love, and when you got in the way -I struck you. That’s the truth of it, brother. And I’m afraid I’d do it -again, Hiram, for you can’t expect the perfect man to come out of the -Look family. The only thing I can promise you, brother, is to be honest -with you, and I am that--square with you through thick and thin, and I -will always be that. But you have got to keep your hands off my -treasures---and you know what they are!” - -He held out his open palm and smiled. - -“Can’t you take my hand on that, brother Hiram?” - -“I’ve got just a little favour to ask of you, Phin,” said Hiram, his -hands still at his side. “I want you to leave me here on this porch ten -minutes so that I can get fit to grip your hand. I can do a good deal -of helpful thinkin’ in ten minutes, Phin. And when I come ’round the -corner of that house, boy, it will be the differentest man you ever see. -And I want you to put out your hand and shake just as if I was home for -the first time after all those years--and I guess that’s the fact of the -case, brother.” - -When the Squire, with head bowed and with a smile on his lips, reached -the corner of the house Hiram hailed him. There was such a queer note in -his brother’s voice that the lawyer whirled in some astonishment. - -Hiram stood, the points of his long moustache tightly gripped in one -hand under his chin, as though he were trying to pull down the corners -of his lips that were spreading into a broader and rather foolish smile. - -“I just wanted to warn you, Phin,” he chuckled, “that I’ve got a little -something in the way of--of---well, as you said, ‘treasures’ to talk -about.” - -“Treasures!” repeated the lawyer, wonderingly. - -“Well, that’s what she is!” blurted Hiram. “And you don’t ever have to -apologise for what you did to me. I know how it is. I’ve got a critter -to walk over in the same way.” And with this enigmatic statement he -waved a hand at his brother and went back to his chair. - -He began to frown again as he wrote. - -“It’s goin’ to be a clean sale,” he muttered. “I don’t never in all my -life want to see a circus, hear of a circus, talk with a circus man----” - -The parrot hooked his beak around a wire and rattled away jovially: - -“Crack ’em down, gents!” he shrieked. - -Hiram shot an angry glance and an oath at the cage. - -“No, sir, never! They may molasses ye over at first, but it’s only to -make ye easier to swaller. Own folks don’t do that. You know just where -to find ’em, there’s that much about ’em. It’s goin’ to be a clean -sale. Think of it--me a man that has been through it all from A to Z -being held up by----” - -“Twenty can play it as well as one!” remarked the parrot. - -It was a hideous scowl that Hiram flashed up. - -“Not only trimmin’ me, but makin’ me run the risk of goin’ to court and -havin’ it trailed out from Clew to Erie!” - -“It’s the old army game, gents!” the parrot squalled. His tone was -nerve-racking. - -Hiram rose, yanked the bottom out of the cage, caught the squawking bird -after considerable damage to a forefinger, wrung his neck, walked down -to the road, and flung him far over the opposite stone wall. When he -came back he caught the battered hat from the top of the lilac bush and -sent it after the deceased Absalom. - -Then, sucking his bleeding finger at intervals, he went on writing his -advertisement. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII--HOW SYLVENA WILLARD “TRIED IT ON THE DOG,” - -WITH HAPPY RESULTS - - - Dan’l and Dunk and the yaller dog - - Were owners and crew of the Pollywog, - - A hand-line smack that cuffed the seas, ’tween ’Tinicus - - Head and Point Quahaug. - - Dunk owned half and Dan owned half, and the yaller - - dog was also “joint”; - - They fished and ate - - And swapped their bait, - - And allus agreed on every point. - - --“Ballads of the Banks.” - - -It did not surprise the people of Palermo when the word passed that -Judge Collamore Willard had decided to retire from business. - -His callers had noticed his failing strength through the winter months, -his unsteady gait, the tremulous wavering of his hands when he scrabbled -among the papers on his table. They ascribed all this to the infirmities -of age. Gossip that he had lost money, or that there was some basis for -the sensational charges flung at him by Hiram Look, fell upon barren -soil of belief in Palermo. Local confidence in the Willard fortunes and -Willard integrity was too strong to be weakened thus. - -Old men, spinsters and widows came straggling in, after persistent -drumming at them by the Squire, to receive the sums due them. The -process of settlements covered many days, and the lawyer had need of all -his patience. - -For old folks, even when the money was in their hands, stood by the -Judge’s table and begged him to take it back. - -“Banks is failin’ and thieves is stealin’,” was their lament. “There -ain’t nobody ever done so well by us as you, Judge. It won’t bother you -none to take care of just this little. We won’t say nothin’ about your -havin’ it.” - -At times like these the Judge turned a wistful gaze on the lawyer, and -with something of appeal in his eyes. But he met; always the shake of -the head and the tightening of the lips. - -“You can’t afford to take a single chance, Judge,” the Squire had -told him at the beginning of the business. “You must not owe one man a -dollar. Your books and your papers will be your own, then. And they must -be burned. Evidence of this sort must not haunt your last days or your -family after you are gone. Forgive me for having made the conditions -that I have, but it is the only way out for all of us.” - -Those in town who were at first surprised that Squire Look had been -accepted as the Judge’s man of business found ready explanation in the -public quarrel of the Look brothers, and the fact that the Squire was -better qualified than any one else in Palermo to manage the affairs of -an old man whose grip on them had slipped. - -Outsiders saw only the relations of client and lawyer. - -Even such an insider as the Squire himself had been seeing not much else -during the weeks that had elapsed since the town meeting. - -For on the first day of the many on which he came to Judge Willard’s -office he had met Sylvena, and she had such a new, strange, even -disquieting light in her eyes that he had blurted something that gave -her final and complete proof that he understood his musty law books -better than he did a woman’s heart. - -“Sylvie,” he said, “I have been ashamed of myself ever since. I had no -right to take advantage just because you asked a favour of me that a -friend ought to be ready and willing to grant. I’m an old brute, and I -know it. You asked me to help your father, and I reached out across your -heart and your needs and grabbed as a robber grabs at a pocketbook. I’m -ashamed of it. I ought to know that that isn’t the way to win a woman, -but I reckon I don’t know much of anything outside of my law. No, don’t -try to forgive me! I’ve got the old grip on myself again. You needn’t -worry!” - -And she, with her heart stirring ever since that day when for the first -time a true man’s earnest, eager, imperious love had claimed her--she -who had come to him again yearning for a confirmation even, sweeter, bit -her lips when he whirled and left her, gazed after him with eyes that -filled, and then--well, then she stamped her foot and muttered something -that it would have astonished the Squire to hear. - -He did not see her on every visit. But sometimes she was on the porch, -and when the weather grew warmer she was often busy with her shrubs on -the lawn. - -The constant reserve on his part appeared to be contriteness for having -once presumed in a trying moment. - -Her reserve was something that developed into an air that closely -resembled irritability, and he couldn’t understand it in the least. -It made him draw a little more closely into his shell. He thought -that perhaps memory of his fault stirred hotly within her when she saw -him--perhaps as the memory of that kiss burned even now on his lips. - -Therefore matters of the Squire’s heart were in fully as bad a way as -matters of the Judge’s pocket. - -With the true status of her father’s position, financially and morally, -Sylvena was mercifully unacquainted, for when she had fearfully -questioned him he had as fearfully paltered and denied. - -The old dog Eli was the only one who was really cheered by the visits of -Phineas Look to the Willard place. - -At first he had sat on the door-step of the office, meditatively gazing -out across the Cove. - -Then one day he remarked a very pretty lady who was surveying him from -the window of the house, and was apparently motioning to him. But as Eli -had never found that pretty ladies were at any time much interested in -fuzzy old dogs, he reckoned he must be mistaken about the beckoning. -However, he gently wagged his tail in order to be on the safe side of -agreeability. Then he looked away with some embarrassment. - -“Well, if that isn’t like master, like dog, may I be blessed,” stated -the lady in the window to herself with much decision. - -She came to the door, opened it a bit, and called through the crack with -impatient tone: - -“Here, you old fool, come in here and get a bite to eat. I’d like to -speak out in just that same way to some one else,” she added. - -Eli promptly detected something like hostility in the voice and stopped -wagging his tail. He hunched down his head and dropped his ears. - -The lady surveyed him with disfavour. - -“I suppose if I get down on my knees and put out both hands and smile -and say, ‘Doggie, doggie, dear, good doggie, come here!’ why, then -doggie will condescend to come. But I won’t do it!” - -She closed the door with an emphatic slam that made Eli jump, and went -back to the window. - -But something in the mien of the old dog, who sat wistfully eyeing the -closed door, touched her heart. - -“I’m blaming him for something he don’t know--something he don’t -understand,” she murmured at last, pity in her eyes. She went to the -door and opened it wide. Then she stooped forward and wriggled her -fingers coaxingly as she said: - -“You nice old fellow, come here.” - -He hesitated. - -She pursed her lips and invited him with crisp little noises that -sounded like kisses. She must have realised the suggestiveness of these -sounds, for she suddenly blushed furiously and began to call to the dog -softly and winningly. - -He came, his shaggy ears cocked up with expectancy, his tail expressing -his most genial appreciation of the invitation. - -That was Eli’s first visit to the Willard kitchen in company with the -pretty lady. - -If he’d had a tongue that could speak, instead of merely loll in -thankful gusto after his repasts in that kitchen, he could have told -Squire Phin of a pretty lady with red cheeks and a touch of gray at her -temples who often snuggled her face close to his tousled ears and spoke -in a tone sometimes that amazed him mightily, and who one day rose in -haste, drove some tears from her eyes, and said with the determination -of a woman who has searched and found: - -“You’d better come along, too, Eli, for it’s business that concerns that -master of yours!” - -And she started from the kitchen straight for her father’s office, the -old dog waddling at her heels. - -Five minutes before that Squire Phin had pushed his elbows into the -papers on the big table, leaned forward with clasped fingers, and said: - -“We’ve got now, Judge, where we can see the way clear. I have turned -into money for you everything except this house and contents. The -mortgage on it has been paid.” - -The Judge began a stammering inquiry, but the lawyer checked him. - -“I’ve got to tell you the truth about it, Judge. I advanced the money -myself to do it. About three thousand dollars are due you from men who -will pay some time but can’t now without being hard put to it to raise -the money. I’ll take those accounts and advance the cash. We have paid -every cent you owe and squared with every depositor.” - -The lawyer stared at the old man in silence for a time. - -“I’ll be frank and say that in order to bring about this settlement I -have put in every cent of money I have saved, all that Hiram paid me, -and have used certain fees I have received lately from several large -cases. But I am the only creditor you have. I want you to sign these -notes, running to me, for that will be business. But I want to say to -you, Judge, that I shall not press for payment, nor shall I say one word -to any living soul that you owe me a cent or are not solvent. There is a -residue banked and subject to your order sufficient for you to continue -your usual way of living. Wait a moment until I have finished! I have -asked you to lie to Sylvena, to contradict some truths that I blurted to -her in my folly. It was a big thing to ask of a father, but you owe me -for lying publicly on your behalf. I fear that both of us are sad liars! -If you by word or look or action ever let your daughter know that you -have lost your fortune I will withdraw my promise to you and put you to -the wall. And that threat is the truth, so help me God!” - -The old Judge licked his trembling lips and took the notes that the -Squire handed him for signature. - -“You needn’t feel under any obligation to me, Judge Willard,” went on -the lawyer. “I’ll square myself somehow, sometime. We’ll consider it -straight business.” - -“But I know it isn’t straight business,” replied the Judge brokenly. -“I know that you have done for me what no other man of my whole -acquaintance would have done. I may guess at part of your reason for -it, Phineas. But that reason doesn’t absolve me from the obligation I -am under to you. I’m too broken now to plan or promise. I am an old -man--too old to start anew. But I don’t believe that God will take me -out of this world until I have in some way shown you that I appreciate -all you have done for me and can prove to you that I am sorry for the -past. I mean that with all the sincerity of an old man that will be -judged Above for his deeds on earth sooner than you, Phineas!” - -The eyes of both men were moist, and in a moment of impulsiveness the -Squire reached across the table and took the Judge’s hand. But when a -visitor’s touch rattled the outside latch of the door a flash of the old -Look family feeling caused him to suddenly twitch away. He felt, with -a certain shame, that he did not want any one to catch him shaking the -hand of Collamore Willard. - -It was the Judge’s daughter. - -She held the door open until Eli had entered, too, with the apologetic -demeanour of one who knew certain things and was therefore apprehensive. - -“Father,” she said, her eyes brilliant, her cheeks flushed, but glorious -in all her aspect, with the poise of a woman who has fully resolved and -therefore dares, “will I be interrupting you and Phineas too much if I -take a moment of your time?” - -“I--I think our business is about finished,” said the Judge, -falteringly. He put his hand over the notes that he had just signed. - -“I have come here,” she went on, “because it is a matter that both -of you should listen to at the same time. It is simply this, father: -Phineas Look has spoken his love for me and has shown his love for me. -As we all know that he is a man whose word is sacred, I take it for -granted that he is still of the same mind. There have been troubles -between our families in which I have had no share, but which at your -request I respected in some measure. I have allowed you to make other -promises for me without my sanction, for you are my father and it has -been the custom in the Willard family to honour parents and gainsay them -in little. - -“I have now decided that it is cowardice instead of loyalty that has -swayed me--for if I were truly loyal to your wishes I would not be -loving with all my heart and soul the man you have forbidden me to love. -The Willards have not been cowards. I know I am disobeying you, father. -But my mind is made up. It will be no use for you to make it harder for -us both by cruel words. That portion of property that was to have -been mine I surrender willingly to Kleber. My husband does not want my -fortune.” - -The face of the old man contracted with a sudden grimace of shame and -pain. Squire Phin, who had been staring at her, his palms outspread -on the table to prop himself, pushed some papers over the notes spread -before the Judge and trembled in every muscle. - -She flashed a sudden look that was half-indignation into his burning -eyes. - -“Have I not been unwomanly enough without your making me coax you and -wheedle you to me, as I have had to woo your old dog?” she demanded, -stamping her foot. And then seeing that he swayed dizzily at the table, -confounded by the situation, she came close, reached across over the -scattered papers and patted his broad hand. - -“Now what have you got to say to me, Phineas?” she whispered. “I know -you can talk, for I have listened to you with my heart in my mouth.” - -But even while the Judge was scrambling up from his chair with -stammering words on his lips, even as the Squire seized the white hand -that fluttered above his own, another visitor entered the office. - -This visitor--and a very obstreperous visitor it was--threw his hat upon -the table, squared his elbows and glared at the three in turn. - -It was Captain Kleber Willard of the _Lycurgus Webb_. His dark seaman’s -face was streaked with purple blotches, his eyes were bloodshot and -sullen, and it was apparent that passion and liquor had combined to give -Captain Willard an unamiable temper. His gaze first singled the Squire -with an especially furious squint of hatred, but his father spoke to him -and he whirled on the Judge. - -“Why didn’t you do as you agreed?” he shouted. “Me to Buenos Ayres and -back, off earnin’ a dollar, where I couldn’t protect myself, and you -promisin’ to keep that deal covered! Why didn’t you do it, I say?” - -The old man turned a pitiful glance on his daughter and attempted to -quiet the angry man with words spoken close to his ear, but the Captain -twisted away from him. - -“It’s time the whole of this family knows what the others are about,” he -raged. “I ain’t doin’ anything that I’m ashamed of. The rest of ye see -to it that you ain’t, either. I tell ye I won’t keep still. Sylvene -Willard is old enough to know bus’ness, or she can leave the room. If -some that I can see here had any instincts of a gentleman they’d get -out, too, when a family is talkin’ its bus’ness. I tell you, father, -you’ve got to explain to me how you let me get dropped for ten thousand. -You didn’t send Bradish the margins as you agreed. You dropped him, too. -It’s no use for you to hush-a-bye me. I know you did it. - -“The _Webb_ wasn’t a half a day in New York when Bradish came down to -show me the documents. It was there in black and white. You backed out -and dumped us. You dumped Bradish. He hasn’t got the price of a meal. -I tell you I won’t shut up! If you had gone in on that last deal that -Bradish told you about we’d have cleaned up a fortune. We depended on -you, the both of us, to furnish the money. You didn’t do it. You -sent King up there and then backed out on him. There isn’t any other -explanation for it--you backed out on him. It only needed money and you -didn’t send it.” - -He stamped around the room, picked up his hat, threw it down again and -went on with his bitter complaints. - -Squire Phin stood leaning against the edge of the table, very grave, and -kept his silence. But there were two deep wrinkles between his eyes, -and the lids narrowed slowly. On his own account the blatant, brutal -bursting in of this man at the greatest, the sweetest, holiest moment of -his life had shocked and angered him. The words that he wanted to speak -to her were choking in his throat. On their account the presence of the -man, his selfish stormings and threats and complaints, exasperated him -in his pity for the trembling old man, and the sister, who was at her -brother’s side as he tramped about the room, pleading with him to be -silent and to explain to her. - -At last Captain Willard plumped himself down in the chair that his -father had vacated and thumped his hard fist on the table. - -“The sum total is, father, you’ve got to settle with me,” he shouted. -“You promised to protect me and you didn’t. It’s up to you to make -good.” - -He had from time to time been casting angry glances at the lawyer. - -“If you’ve got any bus’ness here, Mr. Lawyer Look,” he said insolently, -“I wish you’d ’tend to it and get out. My father and I don’t want -audiences when we talk over family matters, and we don’t usually have -audiences, either.” - -Squire Phin understood the dumb appeal in the eyes of the Judge. This -unruly son had hold of one end of his secret and was tugging away -vigorously. The father realised that the son had the right to demand -certain explanations. But revelations made to this explosive person -could not be kept away from the daughter. And over the Judge’s head -swung the threat of the grim lawyer, sealed with its oath. - -With instant pity for the old man’s agony of apprehension, the Squire -acted. He stepped into the affairs of the Willard family with the happy -consciousness that now he had a right to be there. - -“Captain Kleber,” he said, “I have been retained by your father as his -legal adviser. I have been that for some time. You may discuss family -affairs with him at your leisure and in whatever privacy you wish. -On account of the state of Judge Willard’s health he has left all his -business affairs to me. The matter that you have mentioned is one of -business. You will please come to my office with me, _now_.” - -He dwelt on the last word significantly. He took his hat from the table -and went and stood by the door. - -When the lawyer had begun to speak the Captain hooked himself forward in -his chair, his fingers clutching air, his face working with rage. - -“It was the only thing that King Bradish told me that I didn’t believe,” - he shouted. “One of the Look family hired as a lawyer by my father? I -swore it wasn’t so! If it is so, damme if I don’t make you all sick here -in this place. If it is so----” - -“It certainly is so, Captain,” broke in the Squire, stepping back into -the room. “You will kindly refrain from making any more comments on the -matter. Come to my office with me.” - -“Comments!” shouted the seaman. “Comments! I ain’t got language enough -to make comments! Old Dan’l Webster in his palmiest days couldn’t talk -fast enough to express it. I’ll bet a thousand to one I know what the -trouble is with you, father. I’ll bet it’s just as King said it was. -That skin lawyer has got next to you and robbed you--he and his brother, -the two of ’em! There’s a good reason for your not havin’ money to -protect your own son if the Look family has got their claws in here. Do -you hear me, Sylvene? A thousand to one the dogs have ruined this -family! Why didn’t you send the old man to the lunatic asylum before you -let him ram us underground this way?” - -In his fury he had been clutching up the papers on the table and -throwing them about. Now he suddenly bent forward with goggling eyes, -his hands on the arms of the chair, and stared long at some slips of -paper that he had uncovered. - -He picked them up one after the other, his hands trembling so violently -that the sheets crackled. - -“Four notes runnin’ to Phineas Look and signed by Collamore Willard!” he -yelled. “Four notes and each for five thousand dollars. Four notes! Look -at ’em!” - -He staggered up and thrust them under the astonished gaze of Sylvena, -but with one stride the Squire was there and ripped them from his grasp. - -“He has robbed us, Sylvene! He’s robbed us,” the Captain went on, -mouthing like a madman. “He’s got all our money and put us in debt to -him beside. The thief! The land pirate!” - -He was making for the lawyer with his fists upraised, but Squire Phin -struck them down and forced the furious man back into his chair. He held -him there, glowering down on him with a menace that would have quelled a -wild beast. - -“Go ahead, Phin Look,” whimpered the Captain; “put on another scar to -match the one your brother made!” - -“I propose you shall listen to reason, Kleber,” Squire Phin fairly -hissed, “even if I have to hold you by the throat while I give you the -truth. I tell you again to come to my office, and if I fail to satisfy -you, then the law is open to you.” - -The seaman sank back in his chair limply and the lawyer left him. But as -he turned to Sylvena with a look of infinite pity on his face, Captain -Willard leaped up. - -“Don’t you see now that he has done father and us out of every dollar, -Sylvene?” he wailed. “Don’t you believe me when I say----” - -But she came forward hastily and put both her hands into the Squire’s, -looked up at him trustfully and said: - -“I believe in my--my--husband, that is to be, and that is the first and -the surest duty of a good wife!” The Squire put his arm about her, bent -down and kissed her, a happy sob in his throat choking back the words he -wanted to say. - -The son stared at them a moment, his jaw dropping, whirled on his father -with a curse, and then clacking his fists together in impotent rage, -rushed out of the office with a bang of the door that made the little -building shiver. - -With his one free hand the Squire put the crumpled notes to his teeth -and began quietly to tear at them. - -He caught her looking at him with wistful inquiry in which there was -absolute trust. - -“I don’t know my Bible as well as I do the revised statutes, Sylvie,” he -said, smiling at her, “but I believe there is a passage somewhere -that states that a good wife is better than much fine gold, yea, more -precious than rubies and all beautiful gems. Now with the thorough -understanding that the Bible is right, let us sit down and have a little -family conference about some things that a wife should know.” He brushed -from her hair and shoulders the bits of torn paper, drew her on his knee -and began to talk. The old Judge sat opposite, gazing mistily out of the -window in the direction his son had taken. - -For the first and the last time in his life Squire Phin did not tell the -whole truth to the woman he loved. - -But the sad, though unclouded resignation in the eyes of the woman, -and the dumb gratitude on the face of the old man opposite when he had -finished, made his lie a holy one. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII--HIRAM LOOK’S TWO LIVELY BUSINESS ENGAGEMENTS - -WITH CAPTAIN NYMPHUS BODFISH OF THE “EFFORT” - - - Old Zibe Haines walked out one day, - - And a barbed wire fence it stopped his way. - - Never climbed over, never crawled through, - - But he bit that wire right plumb in two. - - --Ballads of “Gumption.” - - -Hiram Look was approaching Palermo village and letting his horse -walk up the long Witch-Run hill. He was in the middle of the seat of a -brand-new top carriage. His elbows were on his knees and he was gazing -at the reflection of himself in the bright dasher of the carriage. -Occasionally he broke out into mellow chucklings. - -“I’d have given ten dollars if Phin and all close pers’nal friends had -been there with me to see it,” he soliloquised. “Me behind the wistery -on the porch of the widder’s, a-takin’ it all in, and he not knowin’ -I was there! Phew! Lemme git out a few more of them laughs I’ve had to -swaller!” - -He leaned back and haw-hawed boisterously, to the renewed astonishment -of the horse, who stopped and bent his head around to gaze at his -master. - -“G’long!” shouted the showman. “I’ve told you all about it three times -already on the way down. I had to tell some one.” - -When the horse plodded on he set his elbows on his knees again and went -on with his delighted monologue. He was rolling it again over his tongue -with smacks of relish. - -“Yess’r, I had him dead to rights! Had the very letters he’s been -writin’ to that other string to his bow. And then to have him whine to -the widder that he’d writ’ ’em ’cause he felt sometimes that she -was gittin’ ready to throw him over and he didn’t want to git left -altogether! Why, the dum fool! To tumble down like that at the first -puff she give him! Me? Why, I’d ’a’ lied till there was six inches -of glare ice in Tophet! I’d ’a’ said I didn’t know how to write! I’d -’a’ said that I’d been sassin’ Jim the Penman’s grandmother and he was -gittin’ back at me. But he jest caved. I allus knowed he was a fool. - -“And me a-settin’ there with my thumb in my vest armhole, takin’ it all -in and fattin’ on the ribs! Why, I’ve heard men git down and beg, I’ve -seen dogs set up on end and whine for a bone, I’ve seen a cat coax for -milk-strainin’s, but never nothin’ like the way that man got down and -rolled over and jumped through and played dead for that widder. - -“Cap Nymp’ Bodfish, you kicked me once, and ’twas in the face and eyes -of the public, and you was due to git a lot of trouble. I might have -kicked you back; I might have gone on and broke a few of your arms and -legs and et cet’ry. But it wouldn’t have been a scientific job like -this. No, s’r, it wouldn’t have been real soul-satisfyin’. I never got -no great consolation out of lickin’ a man.” - -Hiram sighed at his recollections in that line. But his face cleared -immediately. - -“Him with his tongue out and his mouth all made up for that twenty -thousand and the widder! Him as had made his brags about her, and now -has got to face the grinnin’s and the sneerin’s! It will be lin-g’rin’ -agony, that’s what it will. - -“Lordy mighty, will I ever forgit the face he made up when he see me -behind that wistery! O-h-h-h, I shall wake up in the night and laugh -till I set the roosters to crowin’. Him a-drivin’ out of the yard with -the widder givin’ him a few final lambastes with her tongue and me -a-stickin’ my head out through the wistery. He a-tumin’ ’round to git -a last look at her and seein’ me and realisin’ then--yass’r, realisin’! -And his wheel ketched on a post and he fell down into the bottom of the -waggon and began to push against the post like he was tryin’ to shove -off a dory--clean forgittin’ he was in a team! Oh, what a state that -man’s mind must have been in!” - -Hiram rolled to and fro on the carriage seat in an ecstasy of mirth. - -“Never’ll forgit what she said to him then. - -“‘Take your reins and back up,’ says she. ‘I don’t want people -’round here to think you’re drunk as well as a complete fool, you old -hump-backed, tarfingered garsoline tank! A pretty farmer you’d make--and -don’t know a waggon from a dory! Git out of my yard and don’t never let -me set eyes on you ag’in. I’ve got a man as is a man,’ and she pointed -to me, and I swow I couldn’t help it! I set my thumb to my nose and give -him the real, old-fashioned waggle. Ow, haw, haw! Ow, haw, haw!” - -“And then she come right to me and give me a pat on the back and -says: ‘It didn’t need any of them writin’s to make me give him his -come-uppance, Mr. Look. I never give a snap of my finger for him, -anyway, since I met you. Ow, hee-hee!” - -“You seem to be feelin’ ’bout as gay as they make ‘em,” called a voice -from the roadside. - -Hiram started up and wiped the tears of merriment from his eyes. - -Two men were standing by the highway fence, men whose solemn faces were -streaked by perspiration. One of them carried a small rifle. The other -was “Sawed-Off” Purday, the Palermo deputy-sheriff. He was armed with a -club. - -“Guess you must have heard the news about your friend,” said Purday, -with accent on the last word. “Nothin’ else would make you any more -tickleder. P’raps you’ve seen him along the ro’d. If you have we’ll be -much obleeged for a clue.” - -“Seen who?” demanded Hiram, thinking at first that the men referred to -Captain Nymphus Bodfish. He eyed their weapons and felt a qualm of fear, -for he didn’t know what the exasperated skipper might have prepared for -him. - -“Klebe Willard.” - -“Klebe Willard!” There was relief as well as astonishment in Hiram’s -tone. - -“Well, there’s been hell to pave and no pitch hot down in the village,” - said Doughty, nothing loath to impart sensational news. “There’s four -possys out after Cap Willard and this is one of ’em. He’s took to the -woods somewheres and there ain’t no knowin’ where. But I reckon I’ll -catch him if I only get onto one clue,” he added, confidently. “No one -ever got away from me yet. Howsomever, it’s leg-weary work, this cuttin’ -acrost pastures and plowed land. You say you ain’t seen hide nor hair of -him?” - -“I ain’t said nothin’ about it,” retorted Hiram. “But I ain’t seen him, -if that’s what you’re after. Why in Tophet don’t you tell a man what the -critter has done instead of standin’ there and chawin’ ter-backer with -that infernal eight-day motion?” - -“It ain’t altogether clear jest what it was all about,” related Doughty, -calmly. “All that’s known is that Klebe come whoopin’ into the village -from Square Harbour to-day and tore into his father’s office and then -come out and hot-footed home as though Old Nick was after him. In an -hour or so the old Judge went down to Klebe’s house, and it seems from -what the neighbours say that Klebe had been tea-in’ up in the meantime -and jawin Myry, and a little while after the Judge come in he got to -goin’ it worse about somethin’ or other. There ain’t much head nor tail to -stories, but as near as I can find out he went to lick the old man, -bein’ crazy drunk, I reckon, and Myry stepped in between, and he floored -the two of ’em and kicked over one of the young ones and took to the -woods howlin’ like a looservee. It’s bad bus’ness.” - -Purday spat far and sighed dolefully. - -“Your brother and Sylvene has sort of took charge there to Klebe’s -house,” the deputy went on. “The old Judge ‘come to’ ’fore I left the -village. But the doc says Myry is in a turrible bad way with the tunk -she got. It won’t be none surprisin’ if murder comes out of it. It’s a -glister for the Willard fam’ly, that’s what it is!” - -He shifted his club to the other hand and started over the fence. - -“Come along, Bragg,” he commanded. “It’s more’n li’ble that he kept to -the Bunganuck ridge.” - -Hiram had no desire to ask further questions. He lashed his hors’e and -rattled away toward the village at his best speed. - -It had been one of those unseasonably hot May days, humid and -sweltering, with thunder-heads boiling above the horizon and a menace in -the steaming quietness of nature. - -When Hiram turned in at the yard of the Look place the low sun was -dipping behind an ominously purple curtain in the west, and there was a -jarring growl of thunder behind the hills. - -His brother was not at home. - -“He may need old Hime for somethin’ or other,” he muttered as -“Figger-Four” Avery bobbed into the barn leading the horse. “It ain’t -especially the place for me to go buttin’ in, under the circumstances, -but I’m a right-hand man for Phin when he needs help, and he knows it -now.” - -He hurried away down the street, casting an occasional glance over his -shoulder at the purple-black curtain of cloud. “It looks as though it -was goin’ to be a ripper,” he commented. - -In the yard of the Kleber Willard place little groups of villagers were -talking in hushed tones. - -“How be they now inside there, Uncle Buck?” inquired Hiram, -solicitously. - -“Them that’s still inside is in a mighty bad way,” replied the old -man, grimly. He added yet more grimly, “And them that’s outside is most -likely wuss off than that.” - -“Them that’s outside!” repeated Hiram, smartly. - -“That’s what I said. After the Judge come round into his senses they -thought it was all right to leave him on the sofy till they got ready -to take him home, and in the gen’ral confusion here he’s got away. Took -both of Klebe’s young ones with him, the little boy and the little girl, -and Lord only knows where he’s got to. I tell ye ’twa’n’t safe to -leave him alone! An old man with the bang he got ’side of the head -ain’t gittin’ back into his right senses all in a minit.” - -“What are you standin’ around here for, all of ye?” indignantly demanded -Hiram, raising his voice. “Why ain’t you out tryin’ to find the lost?” - -“Why ain’t _you?_” retorted Uncle Lysimachus. “There’s fifty gone after -’em already and the ro’d is still open. They didn’t take it with -’em.” - -The Squire had heard his brother’s voice in the yard and he came to the -door, his face haggard and grief-stricken. - -“It’s an awful thing, brother,” he murmured when Hiram hastened to him. -“Myra is still insensible and the doctor fears a fracture of the skull. -But my worst fear now is for Judge Willard and the children.” - -He cast a troubled look at the sky. - -“Doesn’t anyone get a word from them?” he asked wistfully. - -“You hold the fort here, Phin,” returned Hiram with bluff assurance. -“I’ll find ’em if I have to rake from here to Smyrna with a -fine-toothed comb. I’m gittin’ to be the greatest finder you ever see, -Phin. I found the Mayo girl, I found myself at last, I found a woman -to-day who’ll have me, and now I’ll find the ones you want or die -tryin’. Don’t you worry, Phin. It’s old Hime for ’em now.” - -He started away on the trot, with no very clear idea of what he would do -first, but anxious to be moving. - -Brickett was standing with shoulder set against the side of his door, -one eye on the shower that was crawling up the sky, the other on a man -who sat in a waggon before the store and who endeavoured to engage him -in conversation. “Hard-Times” Wharff was in his favourite position on -one corner of the platform, his sharp nose tilted toward the heavens and -his long hair waving in the first whispers from the approaching tempest. -A man who was on the other corner of the platform stepped down as the -showman came up. This person accosted Hiram brusquely. - -“I’ve got a little bus’ness with you, mister,” he said. - -It was Captain Nymphus Bodfish, saturnine and resolute. - -Hiram was about to return an impatient retort about “other matters to -attend to just then,” when he caught a word of the conversation between -Brickett and the man in the waggon. - -“Donno who it could be, _I’m_ sure,” said Brickett. - -“I allus knew there was _some_ fools up this way,” said the man, with -rough jest, “but I didn’t reckon that any of them was fool enough to -start in a dory right out past Cod Head in the teeth o’ that thing -comin’ up there.” - -He nodded a languid head at the big cloud. - -“I tell ye,” insisted Bodfish, pressing close to Hiram, “your’n and my -bus’ness will have to be ‘tended to right now.” - -“Did you say that you saw a dory makin’ out past Cod Head?” shouted -Hiram at the man in the waggon, looking past and over Bodfish with an -utter disregard that made the skipper grit his teeth. - -“’Ep! Saw it as I was comin’ up the Cove ro’d,” returned the man. - -“I donno who in sanup it can be,” repeated Brickett. - -“With fifty men huntin’ for Judge Coll Willard and them two young ones, -that old man wand’rin’ somewheres out his senses, you ain’t got brains -enough to guess who it is in that dory?” fairly screamed Hiram. “It’s -blastnation lucky for you, Ase Brickett, that a man don’t need to do any -thinkin’ to run his lungs, or you’d die for lack of air.” - -“I say I’ve got bus’ness----” recommenced Bodfish. - -“Yes, and I’ve got bus’ness with _you!_” barked Hiram, rushing at him so -furiously that Bodfish staggered back. “This is the bus’ness: You come -with me as fast as your legs will take you and start that old garsoline -plunker of your’n. Hiper!” - -“Not on your life! Not for you!” roared Bodfish. “I’ll fight you to a -standstill first!” - -Hiram did not waste words with the man. He drove both his broad hands -against his breast, rushed him backward to the store wall and choked him -until his tongue lolled. - -“Will ye? Will ye go?” he kept saying. - -But each time he loosened his grip the skipper only cursed or cried for -help. He was struggling madly all the time, but Hiram’s strength and -passion were too much for him. - -“I don’t b’lieve in abusin’ no man,” observed Brickett from his door. -“I reckon you’d better let that man go, Hime Look. You can’t sass and -browbeat and bang round ev’ry one in this place.” - -“You fools,” panted Hiram, “Judge Willard and those children are in that -dory. There is no one else who would try to go out of this place into -that storm. It’s Judge Willard, I tell you! You are goin’ to take me -out, Nymp’ Bodfish, if I have to tear you apart and lug you down to your -packet in pound packages. I’ll kill the man that interferes. Will you -go, I say?” - -He fell upon the skipper with such desperate fury that when he again -released his clutch the man staggered away dizzily in his iron grip. - -They disappeared around the corner of the storehouse and in a little -while the sharp “plock-plock” of the _Effort’s_ engine barked in the -interim of the thunder crashes. - -“Them Looks is sartinly the desp’ritest critters when they git started I -ever see,” remarked the man in the waggon, after he had watched the two -men out of sight. - -“Well, if he weighed bigger’n that el’phunt of his he wouldn’t lug -me and my own bo’t off on no such wild-goose chase as he’s goin’ on,” - growled Brickett, getting ready to shut his big doors. He was apparently -unconvinced regarding the occupants of the dory. “That was about the -biggest piece of nerve I ever saw showed out, and I’ve seen some good -ones in my day.” - -“And I’ve seen some good old showers in _my_ time,” remarked the man in -the waggon, picking up his reins. “But”--a crackling explosion -interrupted him---“this is sartinly the king of old lingers.” - -He larruped his horse around the corner into the shed, for the big trees -were beginning to twist and moan and the big drops to lash the dust. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV--THE CREDIT SHEET, AFTER THE LOOK - -AND THE WILLARD FAMILIES STRIKE THEIR BALANCES - - - If we could write upon his gravestun’s face - - A list of what he’d done to help this place, - - We’d have a roll of honour to his fame, - - But we should publish all our village shame. - - There’d be a list of heirs and all their fights; - - The sorrows and the heart-aches over rights; - - There’d be the frowns, the snarls, the sneers and scorn - - Out of the leavin’s of our dead men born. - - There’d be the threats and mutt’rin’s of divorce - - And all the griefs that spring from Trouble’s source. - - ‘Twas better that this calendar was crossed - - With note:--“By order of J. Brown nol pressed.” - - -That’s how it’s been with her ever sence she come to,” said Mrs. Arad -Tolman, with a jab of her head toward the closed door of an inner -room. There were moanings and cries on the other side of the door as -incoherent as the laments of an animal in distress. - -Mrs. Tolman was busy over a brew of herbs that simmered in a little -saucepan on the Kleber Willard cook stove. Ranged around the kitchen -walls sat men and women. Some of the folks in the yard had hurried home -when the tempest broke. Others had taken shelter in the house, making -the storm an excuse for their curiosity. - -“Sylvene and the Squire is doin’ what they can with her,” went on Mrs. -Tolman, stirring at the brew, “but she is in a turrible to-do, now I can -tell you! She don’t seem to mind the tunk on her head. That ain’t’ her -lamentation. But the way she’s takin’ on about them childern is enough -to melt a heart of stone. It was the first thing she began dingin’ away -about when she come to--just as if she smelt trouble in the air.” - -“What’s been told her about the childern?” inquired Marriner Amazeen, -gazing at the closed door with pity on his seamed face. - -“Only that they’ve been took care of at the neighbour’s till mornin’. -But you can’t stuff that excuse down a mother’s thro’t. Talkin’ and -tellin’ don’t fool ’em.” - -“They’ve gone to Kingdom Come in that old dory, along with the Judge, -and she senses it,” said Uncle Buck, from his corner. “Them sensin’s is -mysterious, but they’re so.” - -The lightnings were now fluttering in far-flung sheets that lit up the -kitchen windows palely. The worst of the tempest was over. But the wind -bellowed without and the rain sprayed fiercely upon the dripping panes. - -“First it’s the childern and then it’s whiff over and a-takin’ on about -Klebe--‘poor, darlin’ Klebe,’ she calls him, ‘out there in the storm and -the rain.’ Well, I’d poor darlin’ a man o’ mine that fetched me a clip -like that and then run away.” - -“Howsomever, Myry’s allus been quite a nagger--quite a nagger at usyal -times,” observed Uncle Buck, with mild reproof. “She prob’ly realises -now, when her eyes is open by her trouble, that a man can’t be hectored -only about so fur.” - -Several men in the kitchen looked at their wives with significance in -their gaze. - -A woman was beginning a dissertation on her views of the marriage -situation when there came a beating of wet feet on the stoop without, -and a man trudged in, soggy and dripping. The blast threw a fistful of -water at his back as he slammed the door behind him. - -“They’ve got Klebe,” he announced briefly, standing close to the stove. -“How’s the woman?” - -“’Tain’t the outside of her head now--it’s the inside of her heart -that’s ailin’,” said Mrs. Tolman. “She wants her childern and her -husband, spite of what he’s done to her.” - -“They caught him up in the Bunganuck woods,” explained the man, replying -to rapid questions. “Purday took him and done a good job at it. And the -whole pack and possy of ’em was draggleder’n wet mushrats. They’re -dryin’ Klebe off down in the s’lectmen’s office now, and I reckon -they’ll keep him here to-night and take him to jail ter-morrer.” - -“Has he been told about the children?” - -“Yas, had to tell him. He’s been fightin’ like a cattymaran ever since -he was took, and Purday got tuckered out and told him so’s to break his -sperit. And it done it quick, now, I can tell ye!” - -“Northin’ from outside?” The question was put with a glance seaward -and a mournful inflection of the voice, as though with certainty of the -worst. - -“Northin’.” The reply was equally mournful. - -The little group lowered their heads and sat in silence as at a funeral. - -In the hush the door of the inner room opened, and Squire Phin came into -the kitchen. - -“Have you brought news?” he asked anxiously, putting his hand on the -shoulder of the new arrival. - -The man repeated his story. - -While the Squire stood there with head down, pondering, there was a -commotion in the other room. Again the door opened, and a comely woman -whose features were twisted by grief and suffering appeared. A cloth -was wrapped around her forehead, and her lips were swollen from sobbing. -Though Sylvena Willard strove with all her gentle strength to restrain -her, the woman tore away and came into the kitchen. - -“Bring me my children,” she cried, staring from one to the other with -eyes glazed and sunken by woe. “Where’s Klebe? Send him after the -children. Something has happened. What is it? Don’t drive me mad, -neighbours! What is it?” - -Her voice rose in a shriek. She ran first to one man and then to -another-, clasping her thin hands around their arms. The men were -unresponsive and embarrassed. Hysteria was upon her. - -Squire Phin, with his strong hands and his comforting words, was at last -able to draw her away toward the inner room. - -“Oh, Phineas Look,” she wailed, “tell me where my babies are.” - -“They are in God’s hands, child,” he replied, his heart in his tones. -“Take courage. I am goin’ away now to bring some one. Take courage.” - -While she stared at him with frightened, puzzled gaze he put her into -Sylvena Willard’s arms. - -“Do your best with her, Sylvie, until I come back,” he whispered. “I am -going to get Kleber. The awful load that has come upon this household is -one that husband and wife should bear together. Do your best with her, -little woman! For I shall be gone a bit of a while. I am going to tell -your brother a story that he needs to hear.” - -He hurried away. - -During the long hour that elapsed the stricken woman sat in the kitchen -close by the outer door, motionless and speechless, her eyes fixed on -the latch. All of Sylvena’s coaxings could not draw her back to the -inner room. - -The Squire came first into the room. Behind him was Captain Kleber -Willard, and jostling at his back were Deputy Sheriff Purday and his -helper, alert and officious. They wore the air of officers who knew that -this method of handling a prisoner was not regular, but who had been -overmastered by the Squire’s authority. With the group was another man, -the venerable pastor of the village church, whom they had overtaken -making his way with a lantern along the tempest-strewn street toward the -house of mourning. - -Willard stepped inside the door, his knees bending lifelessly at each -step, his head wagging low between his shoulders. - -His bloodshot eyes rolled shamefacedly from countenance to countenance. -The solemn regard of his neighbours shifted to the worn floor. They had -no consolation for him. His face began to pucker with the grimace of the -strong man who is trying to hold back the tears. - -“Where are our little ones, Kleber?” His wife had thrown herself upon -him. She screamed the question over and over. - -“Squire Look--Parson Emmons--some one--oh, for God’s sake--tell her!” - -His sobs choked him. With his arm about his wife he stumbled away to a -corner of the room, dragging her with him, and while the neighbours sat -silent and sympathetic, the women sobbing softly, the men grinding -their rough knuckles into their palms, the husband and the wife, their -foreheads against the wall, washed away in the first tears they had ever -shed in a common woe all the wrack of the petty quarrels, the little -heart-burnings, the frettings and the misunderstandings--all so mean and -small in this shadow of the mightiest tragedy in their lives. - -After many, many minutes they were quiet, and clung to each other like -people in the dark, afraid. - -Captain Willard trembled until his teeth rattled together. He -was nerving himself to face the picture of his guilt and his -ingratitude--his crime! That was it! His crime. - -It was a picture on which the true light had been shed by Squire Phineas -Look, whispering to him in a corner of the selectmen’s office. - -For some minutes the lawyer and the clergyman had been conversing apart -in an undertone, and now the minister came along to the husband and wife -and gently drew them away from the corner. - -“Kleber and Myra,” he said, “it was not many years ago that I stood -before you in this house in the presence of almost the same neighbours -who are here now, and I joined your hands in wedlock. I have watched -with sorrow and disappointment the wretched troubles that have come into -your home life--needless troubles, foolish troubles. This is not a time -for a sermon. But it is a time for a friend to speak a word to you. I -could have said much to you before, but I refrained, for I realised that -your hearts were stubborn and froward, never having been touched by the -softness of true love and forbearance. It is the cruel and chastening -hand of trouble that does it now. I believe that now your home and your -hearts are swept clean of the anger and pride and selfishness and the -little vices that ruin homes. I believe that you are now willing to -shoulder together the awful burden that has been placed upon you.” - -The woman’s face grew white, and she swayed into her husband’s arms. -Willard stood gasping for his breath. - -“I married your bodies once before, Kleber and Myra. To-night I am going -to marry your hearts and your souls, for, God pity you both, you cannot -stand alone and bear this horror.” - -The people in the kitchen were too raptly engaged to hear the outside -door open. The Squire stood in the shadow near it, and a soft “Hist!” - engaged his attention. - -Hiram’s head was thrust through the opening. He was bareheaded, his -clothing was in shreds, and the lamplight shed feeble gleams on a -hideous black and blue circle around his sound eye. - -When the Squire advanced on tiptoe Hiram seized his arm, pulled him -outside and, softly as he had opened it, he closed the door. - -“I’ve got ’em,” he whispered excitedly. “It was a God-awful trip, -Phin, but I got ’em! It was old Hime for ’em!” - -“You saved them!” gasped his brother. - -“Sounder’n nuts. But there wa’n’t no time to spare. Old Judge flat on -his back in the dory and them two little children huddled down side -of him squealin’ for him to wake up! Heard ’em above the roar of the -wind, Phin! I guess it was God’s way of leadin’ me to ’em. I’ve got -’em waitin’ ’round the corner of the house here. When the old Judge -come to the second time he was right as a trivet. Didn’t have no idee -how he happened to be out in that dory. Kind o’ dreamed he was runnin’ -away from a devil or somethin’ and savin’ the children--and I don’t -blame him for thinkin’ it was the devil, for that Klebe----” - -“Hush, brother,” said the Squire gently; “there have been strange -heart-stirrings about here to-day.” - -“You’re right, Phin,” replied the showman heartily. “I guess mine’s been -stirred, too. ’Cause when I undertook to thank Nymp’ Bodfish at the -wharf after we got back for havin’ been so kind and gentlemanly as to -take me down the bay and save the Judge and the young ones, he drawed -off and got in one pelt at my eye, and I didn’t chase him nor want to. -I tell ye, I’ve got jest as good a disposition as any one when I’ve got -half a chance to show it.” - -He poked the puffiness under his eye and muttered to himself: - -“I guess I reelly am gettin’ to be pretty fair-minded, ’cause if he’d -a-blacked the two of ’em I’m willin’ to acknowledge that he wouldn’t -have been more’n half square with me for what I’ve done to him.” - -The suddenness of this news of rescue had dizzied the Squire for a -moment, but he now pushed his brother toward the corner of the house -with a slap on the back that made Hiram cringe. - -“Bring them in, Hime! This is your triumph!” He threw open the kitchen -door with a slam that brought the eyes of all in the kitchen around with -a startled snap. The minister paused. The father and mother stared in -affright. - -“Bring them along, brother!” shouted the Squire joyously. “Here’s Hero -Hiram Look,” he announced, “and his salvage from the sea!” - -One child was asleep in the Judge’s arms. The other clung to Hiram’s -hand and blinked at the light streaming from the open door. The mother -screamed and would have dashed upon them, but the Squire gently held her -back. - -“Wait, this is a wedding!” he cried. “Hands together this way! God bless -you and yours. Now, Brother Hime, bring the wedding presents.” - -“I ain’t a very extry lookin’ sight to come to a weddin’,” said the -showman, “but I didn’t come to your first one, Klebe, and I didn’t send -no present. All is, I’ve tried to square myself at this second one, -and my best wishes for everlastin’ happiness goes along with ’em,” he -added wistfully. - -He put the sleeping child into the mother’s arms and stood back to let -the Judge advance toward his son with the light of forgiveness in his -eyes. - -“Oh, father!” wept Kleber, stumbling forward and dragging himself on his -knees toward the old man. “I didn’t know! I didn’t know until the Squire -told me.” - -“Stand up, my boy,” said the Judge, putting out his trembling hand. “All -of us know better now, and some knowledge is bought at cruel prices.” - -It was without a word that Hiram took the hand that Kleber Willard put -out to him when he turned from his father after a time. But as they -stood there clinging to each other Hiram leaned forward with a flash of -humour that relieved the situation, whispering: - -“That black eye, Klebe, is the dot, period, full stop, set down after -the very last fight of my whole life, and I got it for your sake.” - -“Come, people!” called the Squire from the doorway. “Come away with me -now. The wedding is over. The night is getting late and the stars are -out again.” - -He smiled across the room at Sylvena as he said it. - -Then he began with jocular pokings to push the folks out of the door, -and even subjected Deputy-Sheriff Purday to that treatment when the -zealous officer came along to have a private word with him. - -“But look-a-here, Squire,” protested Purday, hanging back, “Klebe is -really under arrest, you know, and you understand what the law is.” - -“Deputy,” the Squire said, holding him by the arm a moment, “under the -circumstances the highest law I know of is this: ‘What God hath joined -together let no man put asunder.’” - -He pointed to the mother and the father with the children between them. - -“The grand jury of human hearts returns no indictment. Go home.” - -He pushed Purday out behind the last straggler and slammed the door and -bolted it on the inside. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV--AQUARIUS WHARFF SEES SOMETHING BESIDES HARD TIMES - -IN THE SUNSET - - - Slowly he passed, for he stopped to pick - - The stones from the road with his old crook stick. - - Rolled them left and rolled them right - - From early morning till late at night. - - And to wondering folk who paused to ask - - The reasons that prompted this self-set task - - He said, with a smile for their doubting gaze, - - “I’m simply helpin’ ye mend your ways!” - - -It was August again. The flies buzzed lazily in the late afternoon -hush, and the knife-nicked bench in the shade cast by Asa Brickett’s -store had its accustomed row of old men, who buzzed in conversation as -lazily as the flies. - -“This has been about the tejousest summer I ever put through,” - complained Uncle Lysimachus Buck, after a yawn. “Ev’rything seems to be -deader’n the latch on a bulkhead door.” - -“Mebbe it’s because Hime Look has settled up country on the Snell farm,” - observed Marriner Amazeen with a bit of malice. - -“Reports is that he’s givin’ ’em a little flavour of circus right -along in that section,” said Dow Babb. - -“Feller from that way was tellin’ me that Hime has been doin’ a job of -breakin’ up with that el’phunt hitched to the plow. Hime allowed as how -P. T. Barnum tells in his book that he used an el’phunt to plow with, -and he wa’n’t goin’ to let no P. T.’s git ahead of _him_. Ev’ry hoss -that come along past stuck up ears and tail and tried to climb a tree -and pull the tree up after. Feller said that one of the neighbours went -to Hime fin’ly and said that he’d been readin’ in some tormented book -erruther that in old days the Romans, or some of them old sirs, whoever -they be, used to sacrifice animiles when there was any good luck had -come to ’em and they wanted to celebrate account of it. Neighbour -hinted that marryin’ Abby Snell was good enough luck for any man to brag -of, and wanted to know why Hime didn’t offer Imogene up as a sacrifice. -Told Hime the neighbours would git up a bee, if he did, and club in with -him mighty enthusiastic.” - -Babb unlocked his legs and chuckled. - -“Hime spoke up and told the neighbour as how ’twas Imogene that had -made the match ’tween him and Abby, and that if it come to a choice of -gittin’ along without the el’phunt or a cook stove Abby’d let the cook -stove go ev’ry time. Didn’t get much satisfaction out of Hime, now I -tell ye!” - -“I donno of any one that ever did,” said Marriner Amazeen. - -“Cap Nymp’ Bodfish licked him once, time o’ the May gale, there,” stated -Uncle Buck. “Cap Nymps told me he did.” - -“Say, do you s’pose if he’d ever licked Hime Look he’d a-hid off in the -woods all next day and then sold the _Effort_ for a song and scooted -to Hackenny, for all we know of him here?” demanded Amazeen. “No, s’r, -there was no one ever done Hime Look in this world, except his own -brother in town meetin’, and then t’was Look eat Look.” - -“Curi’s how things has all come around the last year,” mused Lysimachus. -“The Squire married to Sylvene and settled in the Willard house and the -old Judge actin’ as proud of him as----” - -Brickett interrupted here, coming from the inside of the store, where he -had been perusing his daily paper. - -“Why shouldn’t he be proud of him?” he demanded, his thumb on an item, -his glasses on the end of his nose. “You listen here a minute.” - -He began to read in a sing-song manner: - -“A well-founded rumour from the State House is to the effect that the -Governor has tendered the vacant Supreme Court judgeship to the Hon. -Phineas Look, of Palermo. Mr. Look’s legal qualifications are too well -known in this State to need comment. It is understood that he is in -no sense an active candidate, and the honour has been tendered by the -Governor to the Palermo man by the Executive’s initiative, the Governor -following his frequently expressed intention of letting certain -appointments within his gift seek the man. A Supreme Court judgeship -is certainly not an office to be hawked among politicians, and such an -appointment will be a credit to the State and the Bar. Mr. Look is----” - -Brickett ran his eye down the column. - -“There’s pretty nigh a whole colume here about him,” he said. “But there -ain’t any need of readin’ it. It’s matters we’re all knowin’ to about -him. Papers was lookin’ for somethin’ to fill up with, I persume.” - -He flopped the sheet. - -“What I wanted in pertickler to call your attention to,” he went on, -“was something reel interestin’. It says here that a man has shot -himself in a New York lodging-house, and from marks on his clothes and -his papers it is supposed that he is King Bradish, who was at one time -well known in certain sportin’ quarters. That must be our King Bradish, -don’t you s’pose so?” - -“Prob’ly,” said Uncle Buck without great interest. “And I’m glad he done -it before he’d skun the last cent out of his poor old mother. I guess -she ain’t got much left, as it is.” - -“Well, signs and wonders never cease,” sighed Marriner Amazeen, -relighting his pipe; “as I said when I witnessed Sum Badger’s new will -t’other day,” he continued between puffs. - -“Haskell’s girl gits it, does she?” asked Babb. - -“Yas! Sence ’Caje Dunham whirled ’round and showed some signs of -bein’ human, Sum found that he was in a class by himself as the meanest -man in town, and he got jealous of ’Caje.” - -“It won’t hurt this place none if some of the rest of ’em runs races -of the same sort,” said Buck. - -The click of the key in the lock above their heads startled them. - -Squire Phin was coming down the stairs, shoving the key of his office -into his trousers. - -“We’ve jest been list’nin’ to some news about you, Squire,” called one -of the group on the bench. - -Squire Phin came around the corner of the stairway, put his hands behind -his back and smiled at them. - -“What now, neighbours?” he inquired. - -“Says here in Ase’s paper that you’re goin’ to be a judge,” replied -Buck. - -“Well, that _is_ news,” said the Squire, and yet with a quizzical cock -to his eyebrows that indicated that he was in no measure surprised. - -“Go ’long with you! You knowed it all the time!” snorted Buck. - -“I always believe in giving my old neighbours all the news I can when -they want it,” the lawyer said humorously, “for news has been scarce in -town lately. I’m going to give you something straight now. You will hear -this before the newspapers do: I have written to the Governor declining -that honour with grateful thanks.” - -“Won’t be a judge?” queried Amazeen with astonishment, - -“I’d rather be Phin Look, lawyer,” said the Squire, with a queer little -glint in his eyes. - -“I’ll bet you ten dollars I know why,” snapped Uncle Buck, with the -frankness of an old friend. “A man that knows was telling me that all -you have to do is set up there in your office and rake in money hand -over fist, sellin’ law to the big corporations. And a Supreme Court -judge only gits five thousand a year.” - -His gimlet eye bored the Squire, and a question that his curiosity had -prompted for a long time popped out of his mouth. - -“A man what ought to know told me that you was clearin’ fifteen thousand -dollars a year out of law. Now, Squire, I stump you to say that he lied. -Did he, or didn’t he?” - -The lawyer so thoroughly appreciated the character of Uncle Buck that -this attack was flavoured for him with delicious humour. He came close -to the old man and put his hands on his hips as he straddled before him. - -“I’m goin’ to tell you the honest truth, Uncle Lys,” he said. - -The inquisitor pulled himself forward. - -“If a man is a Supreme Court judge in this State he must be away from -home almost three-quarters of his time. Now the straight facts of the -case are----” - -He whirled on his heel and pointed up the street. They all could see -the gate of the Willard place. A woman was standing there waiting, and -against her pretty white gown was silhouetted the figure of a shaggy -dog. - -“Now, the straight facts are, Uncle Lys, my wife wants me home every -night to help water the garden. I’ve coaxed and teased, but she won’t -let me be a judge.” - -A pucker of mirth came around his lips. - -“It’s awful to be bossed around that way by a woman, Uncle Lys.” - -“Oh, you darnation fool!” snorted the old man, making a swipe at the -lawyer with his cane. - -Squire Phin dodged in mock terror and went away laughing. - -Uncle Aquarius Wharff had come up and taken his favourite position on -the platform to study the evening skies. - -“How is it looking to-night?” asked the lawyer, kindly humouring the old -man’s vagary. - -“Clouds is master fine things with the sun-fire behind ’em, ain’t -they, Squire?” returned Uncle Wharff. “Look at ’em, all splattered -with colours that the cherubim has been busy all day a-mixin’ so’s to -have ‘em ready for the sunset time. Blazin’ with glory, that’s what they -be! Seems as if you could jump off’n Witch-Run Hill straight into the -hereafter. Sometimes it has seemed to me that p’raps the angels do open -the gates once in a while at sunset time jest to see if they are well -’iled ag’inst the Gre’t Day of the Hereafter. It’s a spankin’ fine -prospect out there now, Squire. You take that mixtur’ of gold and roses -and all them colours that make your heart feel swelly inside, and it -means settled weather for a long time to come, Squire, for a long time -to come!” - -The lawyer patted the shoulder of the old man’s sun-faded coat. - -“God bless you for a prophet, Uncle Aquarius,” he said gently. - -Then he stepped off the platform and started up the street, waving a -greeting to the white figure at the gate. She came to meet him, with -shining eyes, and they went in hand in hand. - - -THE END - - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Squire Phin, by Holman Day - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SQUIRE PHIN *** - -***** This file should be named 55340-0.txt or 55340-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/3/4/55340/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Squire Phin - -Author: Holman Day - -Release Date: August 11, 2017 [EBook #55340] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SQUIRE PHIN *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - -</pre> - - <div style="height: 8em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h1> - SQUIRE PHIN - </h1> - <h2> - By Holman Day - </h2> - <h4> - New York: Harper & Brothers - </h4> - <h3> - 1913 - </h3> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0001.jpg" alt="0001 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0001.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0003.jpg" alt="0003 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0003.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0010.jpg" alt="0010 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0010.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0011.jpg" alt="0011 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0011.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0013.jpg" alt="0013 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0013.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <p> - <b>CONTENTS</b> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> SQUIRE PHIN </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I—“HARD-TIMES” WHARFF COCKS HIS - NOSE TO SNIFF TROUBLE </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II—“HIME” LOOK’S HOMECOMING WITH AN - ELEPHANT </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III—FROM THE MOUTH OF MARRINER - AMAZEEN </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV—SQUIRE PHIN FINDS HYMEN’S TORCH - BURNING HIS FINGERS </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V—HIRAM LOOK MEETS KLEBER WILLARD - BRIEFLY AND BRISKLY </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI—SQUIRE PHIN HAS A WORD OF - BUSINESS WITH KING BRADISH </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII—THE BUSINESS OF HUMAN HEARTS - </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII—SQUIRE PHIN ACTS AS PEACEMAKER - </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX—SUMNER BADGER MAKES A WILL AND, - UNWITTINGLY, A DISCLOSURE </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X—HIRAM LOOK PULLS IN SIMON PEAK - FROM THE FLOTSAM OF LIFE </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI—THE COMBINATION THAT PROVED TOO - MUCH </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII—THE LIVELY FIRST APPEARANCE OF - “THE LOOK BROTHERS </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII—THE “COME-UPPANCE” OF CAPTAIN - NYMPHUS BODFISH </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV—THE PACT OF “ORPHAN HILL” </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV—SOME OF THE POSSIBILITIES IN A - “CORNET BRASS BAND” </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI—THE DISAPPOINTING “TEST CASE” - OF SUMNER BADGER, </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII—WHAT DEVELOPED AT THE FORUM IN - ASA BRICKETT’S STORE, </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII—YANKEE DISPOSITION IS NOT - EXACTLY UNDERSTOOD, </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX—SQUIRE PHIN SEES AND REPLEVINS - WHAT BELONGS TO HIM </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX—PALERMO’S “MARCH MEETIN’” </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI—WHY HIRAM LOOK WENT OUT OF THE - CIRCUS BUSINESS </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII—HOW SYLVENA WILLARD “TRIED IT - ON THE DOG,” </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII—HIRAM LOOK’S TWO LIVELY - BUSINESS ENGAGEMENTS </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV—THE CREDIT SHEET, AFTER THE - LOOK </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV—AQUARIUS WHARFF SEES SOMETHING - BESIDES HARD TIMES </a> - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - SQUIRE PHIN - </h2> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER I—“HARD-TIMES” WHARFF COCKS HIS NOSE TO SNIFF TROUBLE - </h2> - <p class="indent20"> - “Miss Lu-ce-e-e had a par-ret, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - An’ she kep’ it in the gar-ret, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - An’ she fed it on a car-ret, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - An’ she called him J. Iscar-ret, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Tidy-um, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Tidy-um! - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - “An’ the par-ret had a feather - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - That was blue in stormy weather, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Or ‘twas red,—I donno whether, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - But ‘twas either one or t’ether, - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - Tidy-um, - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - Tidy-um!” - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - —Favourite Song of “Hard-times” Wharff. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he village sounds - in Palermo that sleepy afternoon were only the “summer snorin’s,” as - Marriner Amazeen used to say. There was the murmur of flies buzzing lazily - around some banana, skins which curled limply in the August sun in front - of Asa Brickett’s store. At the side of the building, in a patch of shade, - a half-dozen old men, jack-knifed on a rickety settee, droned in - intermittent conversation. From open kitchen windows along the village - street came subdued sounds of the after-dinner work of the housewives—clash - of cutlery and clatter of dishes. In a dusty maple whose lower branches - had taken toll from passing loads of hay, a cicada shrilled his long-drawn - note, like an almost interminable yawn. - </p> - <p> - “First August fiddler I’ve heard,” commented one of the old men in the - shade. “As old Drew used to say in his <i>Rural Intelligencer</i>: - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - “When August’s locusts wind their horn - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Then first you know, Good Summer’s gone!” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - “Well, you don’t have to walk very fur in this sun to find out that she - ain’t gone yit,” remarked an old man who had just arrived. He picked a few - fresh burdock leaves and stuffed them into the crown of his cotton hat. - “Some one ought to make ’Quar’us Wharff come in here out o’ that - sun,” he growled, scowling at a figure that stood on the corner of - Brickett’s store platform, as straight and stiff as the gnawed - hitching-post on the opposite corner. - </p> - <p> - With cadence fully as sleepy as the other sounds of the languorous - afternoon, a squeaking whiffle-tree came down the avenue of elms that - bordered the street. - </p> - <p> - The whiffle-tree was attached to a surrey that showed a city smartness of - paint and trimmings under the dust. The bulk of the man on the front seat - strained his linen coat. The two ladies on the back seat, evidently his - wife and daughter, fairly crushed the springs with their weight. - </p> - <p> - The portly man pulled up at the watering trough in Palermo’s little square - and grunted over the wheel. When the horses began to wallow in the tub, - plunging their reeking noses almost to their eyes, he handed the reins to - his wife and walked toward the store, his gaze upon a bunch of wilted - bananas that dangled just inside the door. - </p> - <p> - The six gaunt men in the shade surveyed this triple display of city - avoirdupois with disfavour. Somehow it all seemed a silent boast of urban - prosperity. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t reckon his woman needs to hang onto them reins very tight,” - grunted Uncle Lysimachus Buck. “It’s all them horses can do to walk with - that load—much less run away.” - </p> - <p> - “All city folks do is stuff themselves mornin’, noon and night, and then - ’tween meals,” said Marriner Amazeen. “He’s after suthin’ to eat - now, and I’ll bet ye on it.” - </p> - <p> - “How much for a dozen of those bananas?” asked the rotund man, addressing - the individual who stood so stiffly on the corner of the platform. - </p> - <p> - “Wind sou’ by one p’int to the west, havin’ swung from west by nothe,” was - the reply. He did not look at his questioner, but kept his head straight - and his nose in the air. - </p> - <p> - “That ain’t nothin’ but ’Quar’us havin’ a weather-vane spell,” - apologised Brickett, appearing in the door and lounging against the side - of the building. He drawled, “I’ll sell ye fifteen for a quarter. Help - yourself.” - </p> - <p> - The stranger broke off the fruit, stuffed it into his wide pockets, placed - the change in Brickett’s languid palm, and went back to his carriage, - casting an eye of scorn on the platform sentinel as he repassed him. - </p> - <p> - Then he climbed painfully back to his seat. With a grunt he pulled the - reluctant horses back from the trough, where they were now making pretence - of drinking, sucked his tongue at them pantingly and proceeded on his - “carriage tour of the coast.” - </p> - <p> - As the horses plodded into the sun-glare from under the village elms, the - portly man swung around and said to his wife and daughter: “The town pump - and the town clock and the town fool, fifty houses bunched around ’em - and everybody asleep! My God, think of living in a place like this all - your life.” - </p> - <p> - “The old man standing on the store platform wasn’t crazy, was he, papa?” - the daughter inquired. - </p> - <p> - “Why don’t you use your eyes once in a while, Belle?” the fat man snorted. - “The way country towns let old lunatics run at large is something awful.” - </p> - <p> - He whipped up and the surrey clattered across the bridge at the head of - the cove. There was a puff of cool air from the shadows where the tide - gurgled about the weedy piles, and the three people went on around the - hill with the tang of the salt smell in their nostrils, and in their minds - a totally erroneous idea of Palermo and one of its institutions. - </p> - <p> - Fat city men are sometimes too matter-of-fact to understand the - eccentricities of genius. This traveller simply went on—out of - Palermo and out of this story—he and his wife and his daughter, his - reeking horses and smart surrey. He beheld Aquarius Wharff actually - engaged in his biggest job of prognostication—-snuffing at the first - of a train of events that “ripped open” Palermo—and yet he only - clucked to his horses and drove on and never realised what he had - observed. - </p> - <p> - “Hard-times” Wharff had been standing for quite two hours in the broiling - sun on the extreme corner of Asa Brickett’s grocery store platform. His - attitude was familiar enough to his townsmen. He was on the tripod, so to - speak, as a soothsayer, though it is hardly proper, perhaps, to speak of - one leg as a tripod. He wearily balanced himself, shifting feet from time - to time. His dingy old felt hat had the crown pinched to a peak and, - before and behind, the broad brim was similarly pinched to peaks. The - effect was somewhat that of a general’s chapeau, and its ludicrous - illusion was heightened by a considerable assortment of rooster’s tail - feathers thrust into the crown. - </p> - <p> - When “Hard-times”—a name more generally employed locally than - Aquarius—stood on one foot in front of Brickett’s store, his hat - flattened fore and aft—‘twas known by local observers that he was - having one of his “weather-vane spells.” Now, this little fancy harmed no - one, and it was agreed in Palermo that no other resident could smell a - change of weather so far ahead as Aquarius Wharff. - </p> - <p> - If he stood on two feet, well balanced, and glowered grimly, he was merely - indulging in a fancy for his own amusement. Though he never explained his - ruminations to any one, it was suspected that he revelled in a proud - triumph of the imagination and felt all the haughtiness of a bald-headed - eagle. Certain it is that Palermo respected his abstraction and did not - smile when he stroked his plumage and fixed a still more piercing gaze on - the horizon. - </p> - <p> - Aquarius Wharff believed—and his townsmen agreed—that as a - weather-vane he was distinctly serviceable to Palermo. He would inveigh - against the inaccuracy of the dingy, rusty arrow on the Union - Meeting-house, and then would perk his nose into the wind, and rotate - himself on his wavering leg to show his own superior manageability. When - he permitted himself to play eagle it was purely for his own relaxation. - </p> - <p> - When he was not engaged in either pursuit Aquarius Wharff was a mild and - neighbourly man who lived with his “old maid” sister, Virgo, in the little - brown house beyond the currier shop. His twin delusions were his only - “outs,” and his tolerant neighbours in Palermo had long ago ceased to pay - any attention to his divagations. But when a man stands for two hours in - the broiling sun in one attitude he makes a picture that disturbs his - friends. Uncle Lysimachus Buck, whose chair was propped against the side - of the store in the shade, desisted from “teaming” a worried caterpillar - with his cane and called querously: “For timenation’s sake, ’Quar’us, - come set down out o’ the sun, do! It makes me steam and sweat to look at - ye.” - </p> - <p> - “Wind quart’rin’ to west’ard, mack’rel sky, sign o’ rain, hard times - gen’rally and nothin’ ’cept air put into doughnut holes nowadays,” - croaked Aquarius without turning his head; “I jest see six crows fly - s’uth’ards from the Cod-Head spruces, and that means somethin’ ’sides - a heavy fog.” - </p> - <p> - He shifted to his other leg and set his neck more stiffly, and continued - at his feat of endurance with the pertinacity of an Indian fakir. - </p> - <p> - “He’ll git sunstruck, sure’s Tophet’s a poor place to store powder in,” - commented Buck. His snappy tones indicated that his selfishness at being - annoyed by the figure in the sun’s glare was more provoked than his - solicitude. - </p> - <p> - “Why don’t you git under a tree and rest?” he demanded. “An’ if you’re - bound and determined to play dog-vane, then hold an emb’rel over yourself. - Swan, if it don’t make me dizzy to watch him!” Uncle Buck took off his - cotton hat and turned the burdock leaves in the crown to bring their cool - surface next to his bald head. - </p> - <p> - “I’ve thought at times that ’Quar’us was losin’ his mind some—more’n - what runs in the family,” observed Dow Babb, unhooking his toe from behind - his ankle and immediately retwisting his long, gaunt legs in the other - direction. His townsmen had nicknamed him “Fly” Babb on account of this - trait. - </p> - <p> - “He ain’t nobody’s fool, ’Quar’us ain’t,” remarked Brickett, who, - in the midday dearth of traffic, was lounging at the shady side of the - store. “Them Wharffses is weather-struck and always was so, ’way - back. It runs in the fam’ly—seems to! Old Gran’ther Wharff, you - know, kept a di’ry of storms, droughts, hot and cold streaks and all such, - till the day he died, and his son Zodiac figured out of that di’ry all the - signs of storms and so forth. I’ve got ’em writ some’ere in my desk—change - o’ wind, birds’ flyin’s, bugs’ actions, cobweb signs on the grass and all! - Yass’r, the weather streak runs in the family, all right.” - </p> - <p> - “I reckon it must ’a’ been runnin’ hard in Zodiac Wharff,” snorted - Buck, “to make him saddle sech names on to his children as ’Quarius, - Capri-cornus, A-rees, Virgo and—what was that light-complected one - that went West and got lugged off by a terronado? I can never think of - that dum name!” - </p> - <p> - “Sagittar’us, wa’n’t it?” suggested Brickett. - </p> - <p> - “Ye-e-aw, that’s it, and he called them ‘Signs of the Zodiac,’ Zode did. - No wonder the most of ’em died young in that fam’ly! Names like - them would kill yaller dogs.” - </p> - <p> - “’Quar’us, ain’t you comin’ in out o’ that blaze o’ sun?” rasped - Buck. - </p> - <p> - “Don’t buther me when I’m prognosticatin’,” replied the stubborn - meteorologist; “ain’t you gittin’ all your weather from me free—and - hard times all ’round us at that—wind shiftin’s and signs and - portents and all the wonders of the heavens? Then lemme alone. Kingbird - chasin’ a crow,” he went on with his eye on the horizon, where the dwarf - spruces bristled on Cod-Head like spikes on a huge quillpig. “And ’tain’t - all weather that’s a-comin’ this way to-day.” - </p> - <p> - “Spite o’ that loony streak in the Wharffses they have done some pretty - tol’lable s’prisin’ things,” observed Dow Babb, untwisting his legs and - reversing his clutch. “There’s somethin’ else in ’em besides that - weather crack. Now, we all know here in P’ler-mo that ’Quar’us can - smell a weather change quick’s a groundhog can. Born with the faculty, you - might say. Takes it from old Zode, and even further back, for that matter. - But him and Virgo, both of ’em, take somethin’ different than the - weather streak from the mother’s side. She was old Rudd Goffses’ girl of - Smyrna Mills, and old Rudd could cast a mist.” - </p> - <p> - “I’ve heard he could,” vouchsafed Marriner Amazeen, striking the dottle - from his clay pipe into his hard palm with a flare of sparks and preparing - for a refill. - </p> - <p> - “He was born with a caul, Rudd was.” - </p> - <p> - “Heard that, too,” tersely agreed Amazeen. “Old Aunt Spencer ’fore - she died was tellin’ my mother that the caul was just like lace, and came - down all ‘round his face, and they had to untie it where it was knotted - behind jest like a woman’s veil.” - </p> - <p> - “Yass’r, he had the second sight and the seventh sense, and he could - really magick folks, Rudd could,” Babb went on; “and there’s people alive - right over in Smyrna to-day that’ll tell you what they’ve seen with their - two eyes. ’Tain’t no use for us to poo-hoo things that was before - our time, just ’cause we didn’t see ’em. I tell you, the old - sirs could do things we couldn’t, and Rudd was one of the best o’ the lot - in the magickin’ line. One day down to Smyrna, in the Guild deestrick, he - cast a mist on much as a dozen people at once, and they thought they saw a - Braymy rooster of old Matherson’s haulin’ off a twenty foot log up street. - Whilst they was standin’ gawpin’, ’long come old Zene Sparks and - says, ‘What ye standin’ here for, all on ye?’ - </p> - <p> - “‘Ain’t it enough of a thing to stand around for when a rooster is haulin’ - off a log like that?’ asked one o’ the crowd, pointin’ his finger. - </p> - <p> - “Zeke ups and says, ‘That rooster must be owin’ all on ye money by the way - you’re lookin’ at him. He ain’t doin’ anything except walk along with an - oat straw hitched to his tail!’ - </p> - <p> - “And that’s all there was to it, so fur’s Zene could see. The mist wasn’t - cast on him, you understand, for he wasn’t there at the start-off.” - </p> - <p> - There followed an interval of meditative silence, broken at length by the - slow voice of Amazeen, beginning another chronicle. - </p> - <p> - “I’ve heard tell,” he droned, “of Rudd bettin’ ten bushels of oats down to - the old blacksmith shop that used to set where the curry shop sets now, - that he would put his head right against the butt of a hemlock log that - laid in the yard and crawl right through it lengthwise and come out o’ the - little end. They took him up—the three or four that was there—and - he got down on his hands and knees, and they all swear to a man that he - went right out o’ sight into that log. Up come a man that the mist wasn’t - over, and when they told him what kind of a hen was on he vowed and - declared that he couldn’t see nothin’ out o’ the way but old Rudd Goff - crawlin’ along the top of the log, and then the man up and gave Rudd a - jeerously old swat with his gad-stick, and Rudd come hopping off that log - in a hurry, now, I tell you. And all could see him then. He laid his hands - on the tingly place and he let into that man hot and heavy, so fur’s - language would take him. If Rudd’s tongue had been a horsewhip that man - would have ridges all over him. But as it was they haw-hawed old Rudd - off’n the premises. He could cast a mist, though, there ain’t no doubt - about that! And there was lots of old sirs that could.” - </p> - <p> - Babb retwisted his legs with a nervous snap as he concluded. - </p> - <p> - The little group in the shade gazed on the solitary figure bathed in the - beating August sunshine. For a moment he ceased to be in their eyes merely - old “Hard-Times” Wharff. They stared at him with a bit of superstitious - respect, as they always did when they remembered how the blood of old Rudd - Goff was in him. - </p> - <p> - “You’ve got to own up that there are queer things in this world.” mumbled - Amazeen. - </p> - <p> - The old man on the platform revolved slightly on his single leg of - support. He slowly swung his head from side to side, his eyes still on the - horizon line. - </p> - <p> - “They’ve lit five times and ris’ five times and circled five times and now - lit again,” he cried. - </p> - <p> - “Who’s lit?” demanded Uncle Buck snappishly. - </p> - <p> - “Crows.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, what if they have? They know enough to get down out of the sun. - Come in here, ’Quar’us, with us. I can hear what few brains you’ve - got sizzlin’ like a pan o’ tomcod a-fryin’!” - </p> - <p> - “Over the hills! Crows a-flyin’ and crows a-watch-in’! Hard times comin’, - that’s what I guess.” - </p> - <p> - “I s’pose there’s really a name for that—that—well, the sense - for knowin’ that somethin’ is comin’ in the weather line or mebbe the line - o’ trouble,” pursued Amazeen, puffing meditatively. It was a placid - afternoon for quiet and contemplative discourse of this sort. - </p> - <p> - Little breezes wavered along the shady side of Brickett’s store and - stirred the grasses. Other breezes skylarked through the wide-open front - doors of the store and came out at the side door near the old men. Inside - the store the breezes did what the people of Palermo usually did when they - visited Brickett’s emporium—they swapped commodities. The breezes - brought their little treasures of pure, salty fragrance from the cove and - took away queer little whiffs of spices that were stacked in wooden boxes, - sickish-sweet scents from the tobacco “figs,” aroma of coffee and tea, - flavourings from the candy show case and more pungent odours of kerosene - and dried herring. - </p> - <p> - “Now a dog,” stated Amazeen, “don’t really have no common sense like human - bein’s, but then a dog knows when any one’s goin’ to die in a - neighbourhood, and don’t he git out front o’ the house and stick his nose - straight up in the air and lally-hoo till some one kicks him gallywest? - That’s a sense of knowin’ ahead o’ time, and he’s born with it—and - that’s somethin’ how ’tis with ’Quar’us. Them as says he’s - just loony ain’t watched him same’s I have.” - </p> - <p> - The old man on the platform had shifted his legs again. The breeze - fluttered his long hair and the sun was stealing the last of the original - colour from his yellowed garments. The men in the shade were silent, - partly from slumbrous laziness, partly because their slow minds were once - again revolving one of their stock problems: What mysterious faculty of - divination did “Hard-Times” Wharff possess? - </p> - <p> - “There ain’t no disputin’ that he’s foretold full a dozen line gales that - was comin’ to rip the stuffin’ out o’ things ’long the coast,” said - Brickett. “That much we all know! Time the school-house was burned down he - had it all predicted out—leastways, he told ’round that the - critter with red tongue and crackling teeth and all out doors for a - gizzard was comin’ towards our village—and that’s a fire, ain’t it? - He’s seen shrouds in candles for fifty fam’lies in P’lermo, I’ll bet you, - just come to count ’em up! There’s somethin’—somethin’—‘lectricity—or - hypnotickism, or somethin’! These scientists will git it figured out some - day!” - </p> - <p> - They all pondered in silence, the hush of the sultry afternoon drowsily - brooding. In the store shed a stub-tailed horse dozed uneasily between the - thills of Dow Babb’s beach waggon, occasionally thudding his hoof in the - soft soil, trying to dislodge the clustering flies. Somewhere in the maple - tree the cicada whirred in long, shrill diminuendo. - </p> - <p> - “I ain’t no sp’tu’list or nothin’ of that sort,” broke out Uncle Buck. - “And I don’t b’lieve in no sech things like you’re talkin’ about, nor that - any Wharff that ever lived was anything except cracked—like that old - one-legged her’n out there,” he added, directing an eye of disfavour on - Aquarius. “I tell you if they could cast mists in the old times, then why - can’t they do it now, when everything is so much improved—-telefoams - and telegraphts and ’lectric cars and all that? Any man that ever - claimed to see a rooster haul off a log was a dum liar if he said so.” - </p> - <p> - Dow Babb flipped his legs together indignantly. - </p> - <p> - “’Tain’t any particular politeness to call my rel’tives names, is - it?” he demanded. “Furdermore, uncle never said he see the rooster act’ly - <i>haul</i> a log; he said it <i>looked</i> as if he had done it, ’cause - the mist had been cast.” - </p> - <p> - “Ain’t nothin’ in it no one way or t’other,” persisted Uncle Buck - doggedly. “’Tain’t reasonable, ’tain’t Christian, and - whatever ’tis it’s works of Satan, and I, as a church member, ain’t - goin’ to stand by and let things like that be said without aye, yes or no - to ’em!” He thudded his fist on his knee. - </p> - <p> - “I’ll bet there is such things as magic and—aw—well, you can - call it witchcraft,” cried Babb, rather hampered in argument by lack of - terms. “Come now, I’ll bet you!” - </p> - <p> - “What do you propose to do—call up your Uncle Ben from Turtle Knoll - graveyard or—or leave it out to old Wind-cutter, there?” queried - Buck, sarcastically, with a hook of his thumb toward the Palermo human - weather vane. - </p> - <p> - Babb was clearly nonplussed for a moment, but his face suddenly lighted - up. He untangled his legs, crawled out of his chair and cried: - </p> - <p> - “I’ll leave it out to the man that P’lermo is always ready to leave out - all questions to—and that’s Squire Phin Look, by thunder!” - </p> - <p> - He shook his skinny finger at the dingy windows over Brickett’s store. - </p> - <p> - “If he don’t know there ain’t nobody does,” observed Brickett, clicking - his yellow teeth with decision. - </p> - <p> - “Why should he know? ’Tain’t law, nor nothin’ that goes with law,” - persisted Buck. - </p> - <p> - “You see if he don’t know,” retorted Babb. “It wa’n’t lo’din’ a jackass - with books when Squire Look went through college. Now let’s go up and ask - him, boys—what ye say?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, holler to him to come down here,” drawled Amazeen, loath to leave his - seat. “There ain’t chairs enough in his office to go ’round amongst - us—and I’ve been sick of the smell of law books ever since I lost my - bound’ry line case.” - </p> - <p> - Therefore Babb threw back his head and bawled huskily, “Squire Phin! - Squire Phin Look!” From his mouth, as from the mouths of all Palermo, the - title sounded like “Square.” At the second call they heard a chair’s legs - pushed squeakingly on the floor and an answering bellow that was jovial - though wordless. And those who had straightened up to listen lounged - lazily down again to wait for him. - </p> - <p> - A rickety outside stairway led up to the Squire’s office. - </p> - <p> - On the old tin sign between the dusty front windows was: - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <h4> - PHINEAS LOOK - </h4> - <h4> - Attorney and Notary - </h4> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - The purr of the coffee grinder in the store beneath was a frequent - obbligato to the conferences between Squire Phin and his clients, and the - savour of spice and odour of kerosene stole up through the floor cracks to - mingle with the decidedly athletic fragrance of the Squire’s blackened T. - D. pipe. - </p> - <p> - Once he forgot one of those sooty-hued pipes and left it in the attorney’s - room at county court, and the young lawyers got ribbons and hung it from a - chandelier with a card reading, “Erected in Memory of Phin Look.” Squire - Look patiently hunted for that pipe when he went to county court again, - for its stoutness, after many months of careful seasoning, appealed to his - taste. But he never looked as high as the chandelier. - </p> - <p> - Folks who knew Squire Phin well declared that he had never looked high - enough in life—not as high as his merits entitled. Men who - understood such things said that he knew enough law to match any judge on - the State bench, but in middle life he was still sitting up in his little - office over Brickett’s store, smoking his pipe and reading his fat law - books, with their shiny, hand-smooched bindings. - </p> - <p> - “Well, boys!” he said, as he came out upon the landing above them and - leaned over the rail. “What do you want to do—nominate me for - Congress at a mass-meeting?” - </p> - <p> - Without waiting for a reply he jammed a round-topped straw hat upon his - thick hair and came down the stairs with solid tread. A fat and fuzzy old - dog followed on his heels with tread comically similar. “I had two of ’em - once,” he was wont to say, “Eli and Uli, but I gave away Uli to another - lawyer and kept Eli.” - </p> - <p> - “They say, Squire Look,” began Uncle Buck, as soon as the lawyer came - within hearing, “that you can tell us whether old ‘Hard-Times’ there ought - to be hitched up on town hall cupoly as a vane or sent to the insane ’sylum.” - </p> - <p> - “It ain’t fair to put it that way,” remonstrated Dow Babb, and he - proceeded to state the point of contention. - </p> - <p> - The two deep lines on either side of the Squire’s straight mouth curved - away, and his round, smooth-shaven face beamed upon them humorously. - </p> - <p> - “It isn’t the first time, gentlemen,” he said, “that the motives of a - philanthropist have been misconstrued by the people to whom he has - presented himself and his services.” - </p> - <p> - “What I contend,” broke in Dow Babb, “is that ’Quar’us has a sort - of seventh sense to smell happening ahead. I don’t know what to call it, - but it’s like what a dog has to make him go to howlin’ when some one’s - goin’ to die.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, you ought to ask Eli about that,” suggested the Squire, his smile - broader. “That seems to be right in his line,” and then, looking down into - the humid eyes of the dog, he asked, “Eli, why do you howl when some one - is going to die?” - </p> - <p> - The canine, who was squatting on the grass, thumped his tail agitatedly - and uttered a short “Wuff!” - </p> - <p> - “Can you talk dog well enough to understand?” asked the lawyer of Buck. - </p> - <p> - “Now, Squire,” pleaded Babb whiningly, “you tell us straight. This ain’t - foolin’. We ain’t been able to coax the old sir off’n that platform so fur - this afternoon. He was like that on the days before the line storms and on - them other times. He don’t act out a weather vane usually more’n a half - hour on a stretch and then sets down and chaws tobacker with us like a - human bein’!” - </p> - <p> - “You’ve asked me some pretty tough questions,” said the lawyer, dismissing - his jocularity. He leaned the shiny shoulders of his threadbare frock coat - against the clapboards, careless of the white smooches that were - immediately transferred to the cloth. “Now, as to the casting of a mist by - the old chaps we have heard of in this section, I’ll say that perhaps they - had the same power as some of the Hindoos that travellers describe. Men - whose words ought to be good assert that to all appearances some of those - fellows throw the end of a rope into the air and climb up and up, and so - out of sight.” - </p> - <p> - Uncle Buck pronged a mighty chew of tobacco out of the side of his jaw - with his tongue and tossed it afar into the milkweed stalks that grew - beside the horse shed. He snorted his unbelief. - </p> - <p> - “You might just as soon tell me,” he declared, “as how that quid o’ mine - could turn into a royal Bengal tiger and come roarin’ back here to chaw me - up.” - </p> - <p> - “I wisht a plug o’ tobacker would chase you once,” declared Amazeen. - “P’raps you wouldn’t be borrowin’ so much of it all the time if you got - one good scare.” - </p> - <p> - Squire Phin was evidently about to explain to his fellow townsmen more - explicitly regarding the mysteries of the East, as related by veracious - investigators, when he was interrupted by the cause of all the argument. - </p> - <p> - “Hard-Times” Wharff suddenly came down upon both feet, put his hand to his - brow, peered up the highway where it snaked into the distant spruce - growth, and cried in a very human tone of rural astonishment: - </p> - <p> - “Well, dod-butter doughnuts, holes and all, ’tain’t no wonder the - crows kept a-flyin’! Hard times is a-comin’ to town a-ridin’ on a pony. - Come here and see ’em!” - </p> - <p> - Led by Babb, striding on legs that worked like calipers, the old men - flocked around the corner of the store into the sunshine, each uttering - his own characteristic note of astonishment as he swung into view of the - road. - </p> - <p> - Squire Phin leisurely followed. But the spectacle in the highway was - sufficient to make him stare at the approaching procession with surprise - that almost equalled the emotion of his more naïve townsmen. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER II—“HIME” LOOK’S HOMECOMING WITH AN ELEPHANT - </h2> - <h3> - AND TROUBLE AND A FEW OTHER THINGS - </h3> - <p class="indent20"> - “Go ask your mother for fifteen cents - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - To see the elephant jump the fence, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - He jumps so high that he’ll hit the sky, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - And he won’t come down till the Fourth of July.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> GRIMY, wrinkled - and slouchy elephant, pudging ahead and straining at his rusty harness, - followed by eight horses plodding two and two, was drawing a train of - vehicles whose outlines were almost hidden by the dust cloud rolling up - from under the scuffing hoofs. Through puffs of dust, glass surfaces - sparkled dully, and there was an occasional glint of gilt. The leading - waggon could be more plainly seen. - </p> - <p> - “It’s a reg’lar circus cart,” said Brickett, wonderingly. - </p> - <p> - They all perceived that the shape of the waggon’s body was the simulacrum - of a large caravel whose bow and stern rose high in the air. - </p> - <p> - There was a gilded, life-size female figure at the bow and a companion - figure at the stern. The only man in sight was perched on a high seat let - into the fore part of the waggon, the converging lines of the bow meeting - just above his head. - </p> - <p> - “But there ain’t been no circus advertised ’round here,” cried - Uncle Lysimachus Buck, as he stared. - </p> - <p> - The strange train of vehicles swung wide at the head of the cove to cross - the creek bridge. - </p> - <p> - “There’s six of ’em,” commented Amazeen, as the waggons presented - their broadsides, “and it’s a circus, dummed if ’tain’t.” - </p> - <p> - One waggon was fastened behind another. Three vans with huge mirrors in - the sides were following the big boat-waggon in the lead; the fifth - vehicle had a circular body scalloped like a sea shell, and a painted - figure held a canopy over it; sixth and last trundled a little red cart of - the kind made familiar by circus chariot races. - </p> - <p> - The driver of this strange outfit guided his dripping horses and the huge - piloter across the bridge. He cracked a big whip over them, and they came - up the short rise toward Brickett’s store, gallantly surging to the work, - the faded bridle pompons nodding above the horses’ heads, the dust - swirling behind. The elephant shuffled briskly, ragged ears flapping and - trunk swaying. - </p> - <p> - The breeze on top of the hill volleyed the dust back on the procession, - and when the driver pulled up in the little square with a mighty bellow of - “Whoa!” he and his outfit were almost invisible. As the white cloud - settled away and revealed the waggons the little group on Brickett’s - platform stared open-mouthed at every feature. The gilding was dingy, the - paint blistered and cracked, the mirrors streaked and grimy, but the - elephant and the chariots and the circus glamour were all there. - </p> - <p> - The man who sat on the high seat wore a dusty tall hat, cocked back so far - as to almost rest on his neck. A linen duster was buttoned closely under - his gray whiskers—prolongations of his bristling moustache—descending - in two trailing streams and framing a smoothly shaved chin. This elderly - stranger set his elbows on his knees, the reins hanging loosely, leaned - forward and leisurely surveyed the group on the platform. One eye was set - and immovable—a glass eye. The other roved and twinkled and shuttled - and blinked in lively style. - </p> - <p> - “Let’s see,” he began, a keen glint in his movable eye, “isn’t there a - cheap lawyer in this place named Phineas Look?” - </p> - <p> - The movable eye fell upon Squire Phin. It glittered for an instant more - brightly. The muscles of the hard face seemed to twitch a little. But he - said no more, and with a curious intentness awaited a reply. - </p> - <p> - The Squire had started at the sound of the stranger’s voice. Then he - shoved his hands deep into his trousers pockets and stared hard at the - man, his brows knotting slowly, as though he were endeavouring to recall - something. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know who you be, nor where you come from, nor I don’t care,” - snapped Amazeen; “but I want to say to you, mister, that you’d better call - the leadin’ man in P’lermo by a different name, ’specially when - he’s standin’ here in hearin’!” He shook an indignant cane at the man and - swung and pointed it at Phineas. - </p> - <p> - At this instant a raucous voice squalled a long, loud “Yah-h-h!” A cage - was hung to one of the figures of the big waggon, whose seats showed a - former use as a band chariot. A ragged, gray parrot was in the cage. He - clutched a bar in his warty claws, rapped his bill violently and yelled: - </p> - <p> - “Crack ’em down, gents! It’s the old army game!” - </p> - <p> - The Squire took a quick step forward, halted and stared again. - </p> - <p> - “Twenty can play as well as one!” the parrot squawked. The stranger began - to clamber down from the seat and stood revealed as a tall man when he - stood upright. The knots smoothed out of the Squire’s brow. - </p> - <p> - The two men walked slowly toward one another, each with hand outstretched, - and they met half way. Hand clutched hand in a grip that made the cords - ridge the skin. They gazed for a long time with moistening eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Hime!” choked out the Squire. - </p> - <p> - “You poor little cuss, Phin,” the other gulped, as he reached his arm over - the Squire’s shoulder and patted his back. - </p> - <p> - There was rough affection in the gesture, but there was constraint in the - stranger’s mien. He displayed the nervous bravado of one who is ashamed - and feels that the shame is a weakness. - </p> - <p> - “I ain’t come home expectin’ that you’re goin’ to treat me anyways like a - brother, Phin,” he muttered brokenly. “I ain’t ever been any good to the - family. I——” - </p> - <p> - “Don’t say that, brother Hiram! Don’t!” pleaded the Squire. - </p> - <p> - “But it’s the God’s truth, Phin. I don’t even know whether father’s—whether - he’s——” He stood back and raised entreating eyes to his - brother’s face. “You needn’t say it, Phin, boy,” he went on mournfully. - “All I can do is thank God that father had one boy that he didn’t have to - be ashamed of. I don’t ask you to overlook it—any of it, Phin. I - don’t expect you to do it. I ain’t come back for it.” - </p> - <p> - The old men had been slowly straggling down from the platform, still - busied with their survey of this amazing new arrival. - </p> - <p> - The Squire glanced around at them and spoke guardedly. His tone was gently - reproachful. - </p> - <p> - “Not a word from you or of you for twenty-five years! Hime, I never - understood that. Father didn’t understand it!” - </p> - <p> - “Understand it!” shouted his brother, careless of the throng. “Understand - it! Of course you can’t. No man with decency in his soul and honesty in - his heart could understand it. I tell ye, Phin, I ain’t worth your while - to talk to, I had a little hopes of myself, Phin, a few weeks ago. It came - over me all of a sudden. I’ve come back to square one end of it.” He - glared at the men who were crowding around them. “But our family end, - Phin, can never be squared. I’ve travelled five hundred miles in the sun - and dust to pay my honest debts. That much I can do. Then for the road - again.” He tossed a pathetic gesture at the elephant and the vans. “I did - think of sellin’ ’em along with the rest I sold,” he added - wistfully. “I had thought perhaps—I didn’t know, but—well, - Phin, it’s better to go on, that’s all.” Here and there from gardens, from - little shops and from the houses near by, men were issuing; the cobbler - with his canvas apron tucked up, the blacksmith spatting his smutty hands - together, and the men who had forgotten to lay down their hoes. All were - shouting questions to each other and pointing at the procession that had - come to town. - </p> - <p> - The Squire eyed the approach of these spectators with some uneasiness, but - the glance he turned on his brother was full of kindly emotion. He went - along and patted Hiram on his broad back. - </p> - <p> - “There’ll be plenty of time for us to talk it all over, Hime,” he - murmured. “I know I shall understand. Let’s go home. I’m still in the old - house.” Then with the New England ability to repress emotion he stood back - and ran his eye over his brother. - </p> - <p> - “Well, you certainly aren’t ‘Bean-Pole Look’ any longer,” he cried in his - usual cheery tones, loud enough for all to hear. - </p> - <p> - “And you’ve stocked up yourself, Phin,” returned his brother, with a - rather watery smile. “The Looks usually get pussy after forty.” - </p> - <p> - Uncle Buck was the first of the crowd to stick out his hand. - </p> - <p> - “I’d know you anywhere for Hime Look, in spite of your plug hat and your - weepin’ wilier whiskers,” he cried brusquely. “You ain’t been what you’d - exactly call neighbourly last twenty or twenty-five years,” he suggested, - with a meaning cock of his eyebrow. - </p> - <p> - “I didn’t ask permission of the Palermo Tobacker Chawin’ League to go - away, and I ain’t asking its permission to come back!” retorted Hiram, - bridling. - </p> - <p> - “Still got your meat-axe temper along, I notice,” said Buck, drily. - </p> - <p> - “See here,” shouted the new arrival, “we won’t start into any of those old - rows, good people.” - </p> - <p> - He assumed the tone of the showman “barking” at the door of a tent, as - though the habit of long years obsessed him. Apparently he could not talk - to several persons in any other tone. The throng crowding about him - suggested all his usual environment. “Best to have our general wind-up at - the start-off,” he declared, running his eye over them; “we’ll drive every - tent peg right now. Here I am home again from the wide, wide world, and - it’s no one’s business except mine why I’ve come. I own this gear,” a - flourish of his hand toward the waggons and the reeking horses, “and why - I’ve brought ’em here is my own business, too. Ask me no questions - and I’ll tell you no lies. You needn’t blink and scowl at me—any of - you. I ain’t proud of the way I left this town, but I want to have an - understanding here and now. It’s this: The man who proposes to remind me - of my going away or my staying away will get what I gave Klebe Willard, - and I hope it wasn’t too long ago for you to remember it, one and all.” He - clenched his fist and shook it at them. “Yes, I’m just the same old Hime - Look, rough and bluff and gruff and tough! No one likes me, and probably - no one ever will, and I don’t care! But I can pay my bills.” He rapped - this at them, adding an oath like a whipcrack. - </p> - <p> - A murmur that was almost a growl ran among his listeners, who now numbered - a score. “Yes, I did slide out and leave my debts, and I held this town up - good and hard, hey? Well, I ain’t crawling back on my hands and knees to - you, good people; I’ve come with the goods.” He ripped open his duster - and, twisting his tall form and screwing his mouth as he tussled at the - job, he pulled a big wallet from under his coat tails—a wallet so - fat, so puffy, so rotund that it seemed fairly to groan at its strap and - puff with plethora. - </p> - <p> - The Squire gently seized his brother by the arm, endeavouring to say - something to him in an undertone. But that over-wrought person wrenched - away and shouted, as he waved his wallet above his head: “No, Phin, it - aint no use to hush-baby me. I’ve got to say it to ’em. I’ve been - thinking of it too long. It’s boilin’ in me. I always was too mouthy—I’m - too mouthy now, and I know it, but I can’t help it. I’m just Hime Look, - and I have to talk or bust. They’ve had their chance to lambaste me for - twenty-five years behind my back. Now I’m going to talk to their faces.” - </p> - <p> - Excitedly he tore open the wallet. Packets of bills stuffed every - compartment—packets tied with bands and squeezed flat. - </p> - <p> - With his wallet clutched in one hand and as many of the packets as he - could grip with the other, he went around the little circle of bystanders, - flapping the ends of the bills under their dodging noses. - </p> - <p> - “Smell of it!” he roared. “Don’t it smell good? Look at it! Don’t it look - good? If you could eat it, ’twould taste good, you old droolers! - Did you ever see so much money before in Palermo? No, you never did. Now, - all you that have a claim against me of any kind, meet me at my brother’s - office any time after to-day, with your interest figured compound at six - per cent. No; reckon it better’n that—and even then I’ll give you a - bonus on top. You’ll never be able to sneer again behind Hime Look’s back, - you of Palermo. Bring your claims, good people!” - </p> - <p> - “It’s the old army game, gents!” screamed the gray parrot. - </p> - <p> - Again the Squire tried anxiously to lead his brother away out of the - circle. Perspiration dripped from under the showman’s tall hat. His sound - eye blazed. - </p> - <p> - The other goggled fiercely. It was the anger of a man who was raging as - much at himself and at the memory of mistakes and faults as at his - auditors, the anger of a man who knew in his own heart that he was not as - worthy as these yokels whom he had left behind him in the old home. He - wanted to storm down the criticism and the blame that he feared—to - scare them into silence. Under it all was shame—the shame of a - domineering man who is ashamed to feel shame. - </p> - <p> - “Hime,” pleaded his brother, “let’s not talk this over in public any - longer. The people of Palermo are all good friends of ours. They haven’t - been talking about you.” - </p> - <p> - “No, they haven’t talked about you—that’s right,” shrilled Uncle - Buck, who had advanced closely. “No, they’ve thought you was dead—and - dead men of your calibre ain’t worth much talkin’ about.” - </p> - <p> - Hiram whirled away from his brother’s restraint and glowered at the - doughty old man. - </p> - <p> - “I ain’t one mite afraid of you, Hime,” barked Lysimachus, thumping down - his cane. “This is the same stick I’ve put across you when I ketched you - stealin’ my apples, and if you tackle me I’ll slash you again, though you - was grown taller’n Haman.” - </p> - <p> - He came close to the furious man. - </p> - <p> - “You might’s well shet up your wallet,” he said; “P’lermo ain’t sufferin’ - for your money, much of it as you seem to have.” - </p> - <p> - “That money won’t be put up till my debts are paid,” shouted Hiram. The - old man’s fishy eye bored him with a significance he could not understand. - It was evident that Lysimachus had a trump card. - </p> - <p> - “You can’t pay, dum ye!” shrieked Uncle Buck, now furious in his turn, - with the hysterical rage of the senile. - </p> - <p> - “Why can’t I?” This also was bawled. - </p> - <p> - “Because your old father mortgaged his farm after you run away, and then - after he died your brother Phin worked and paid off every cent that was - owed.” - </p> - <p> - “Twenty can play as well as one!” said the gray parrot. - </p> - <p> - Hiram, both hands still full of money, rubbed his forearm across his eyes, - into which sweat was streaming. His movement knocked off his hat, and it - rolled unheeded in the dust. Pitiful bewilderment wrinkled his face. - </p> - <p> - “And if you’ve never heard of all that, then you can’t have been any - decenter about writin’ home and lettin’ your own know about you than you - have been about other things I could name.” - </p> - <p> - Hiram stood, his arms hanging at his side, his lower jaw drooping, his eye - shuttling from face to face evasively. - </p> - <p> - “Kind o’ makes you drop your tail, Hime—that, eh?” jeered Amazeen - from his place in the crowd. - </p> - <p> - As Hiram still drooped there, Uncle Buck ran his cane into the fallen hat, - lifted it with a deft toss, ran his elbow around its nap, and set it on - Hiram’s head, standing on tip-toe to do it. - </p> - <p> - The man never moved or blinked. - </p> - <p> - “There’s your plug hat, Hime,” he said. “It fell off, and pride goeth - before a fall.” - </p> - <p> - At the anti-climax the crowd haw-hawed with the jovial unrestraint of - rural jokers. - </p> - <p> - The Squire’s face was very grave. He came along, gently took the wallet - and the money from his brother’s hands, tucked the packets away, - restrapped the wallet and stuffed it back into the hip pocket. Hiram still - remained motionless, except for the blinking eye that now looked straight - at the ground. - </p> - <p> - Phineas turned to his townsmen: - </p> - <p> - “Folks,” he said, “I don’t think my brother Hime meant all he said. He was - excited and wrought up by coming home, and it was a hard place to put any - man in, to meet the old townsmen again as he has had to do. But you see he - has come back bringing the money to pay, and I know you are going to give - him the credit of his good intentions. We will talk it over some time - later, friends. Now I want you to come along home with me, Hime.” - </p> - <p> - He pushed his brother along toward the big waggon. - </p> - <p> - “And you done what old Lys says you done?” asked the elder brother - suddenly. There was a queer indrawing of the breath after the query. The - Squire did not reply. - </p> - <p> - “God, I ain’t fit for phosphate!” blurted the showman despairingly. “Shame - and pride and my dirty disposition—and not writin’—nor - nothin,’ thinkin’ you had soured on me—and lettin’ you and dad—oh, - Phin, you poor little cuss!” - </p> - <p> - Down over the hard face that had cynically fronted the world for twenty - years from the barker’s rostrum, into the trailing whiskers filtered the - tears. This middle-aged, solid, lawyer brother had not as yet assumed his - proper perspective in the mind of his elder brother, who had left him a - stripling. Hiram did not try to hide his grief from those who stared at - him. - </p> - <p> - “Ain’t I a specimen!” he whimpered. - </p> - <p> - “I think you are beginnin’ to improve <i>some</i>,” said Uncle Buck, - bluntly. - </p> - <p> - “Your wife won’t want to see me,” moaned Hiram. “I ain’t fit to meet her.” - </p> - <p> - The crowd laughed anew, for this seemed the best joke of all. The lawyer - smiled, but it was a wistful smile. - </p> - <p> - “I’m the pickedest old bach in town, so set that I even do my own cooking, - Hime,” he said. “It is all about the same as it used to be at the old - place. There’s plenty of room in the barn for all this,” he nodded toward - the waggons, “and plenty to eat for us all—I guess,” he added, with - a facetious look at the elephant, and that started the laugh again. - </p> - <p> - Hiram turned to the crowd as though to address them, but he clutched at - his throat, shook his head pathetically, and stumbled toward the big - waggon. - </p> - <p> - “You ain’t the worst feller in the world, Hime,” called a voice - encouragingly. ’Twas Marriner Amazeen’s. “But you can’t sass us - here in P’lermo any more’n you useter could.” - </p> - <p> - There was a general mumble, in a more hospitable tone, for the prodigal’s - evident contrition had touched them. He threw up his hand and again shook - his head despondently. - </p> - <p> - “It’s a blamed queer outfit to haul into any man’s door-yard, Phin,” he - said at last, with wistful apology, as he noticed his brother looking at - the elephant with no very eager enthusiasm; “but I’ll fix it right with - you.” - </p> - <p> - He did not remount his seat, but secured a hook from under the big waggon, - walked to the elephant and stuck the hook into a slit in the beast’s - ragged ear. With a creak and a groan the parade started, the weary horses - dragging at the heels of the scuffing pachyderm. Chattering boys spatted - along barefoot in the dusty road before, beside, behind; the villagers - attended along the sidewalk, and women stood at front gates holding up the - little ones to see. - </p> - <p> - The Squire plodded at his brother’s side, his hands behind his back, and - Eli waddled near with cautious eye bent on the huge animal. - </p> - <p> - And thus, after twenty-five years of wandering, returned Palermo’s queer - genius, hot-headed Hiram Look, a showman from the time he took pins for - admission from his schoolfellows at the door of a tent made of shorts’ - sacks, and that was when he wore dresses and had his flaxen hair combed in - a “Boston.” - </p> - <p> - A little way beyond Brickett’s store the elms grew close and tall, - stretching their graceful arms across the street. Back from these elms on - a gentle slope of lawn stood the Judge Collamore Willard house, the - mansion of the village, a square structure of brick, dyed by many years of - weather to a sombre red. - </p> - <p> - The inmates of this dignified house evidently had been affected by the - general excitement caused by the halt of the caravan in front of - Brickett’s store. - </p> - <p> - A tall, gaunt old man, whose frock coat flapped about his skinny legs, - hurried down the gravelled path to the street, and as the head of the - parade approached he opened the iron gate and came out to the side of the - highway. - </p> - <p> - “What’s all this?” he piped in falsetto, addressing one of the villagers - who were marching along the sidewalk. - </p> - <p> - “Hime Look’s come back and brought his circus,” said the passer. The old - man started, and his thin lips closed viciously. - </p> - <p> - As the showman’s eyes fell upon the old man his face also grew set and - hard. - </p> - <p> - “Ain’t old Coll Willard gone to be a moneychanger in hell yet?” he - snarled. - </p> - <p> - The Squire was looking toward the house and did not answer. A woman stood - on the front porch, gazing under her palm. Even from the road the grace of - her figure showed itself. The soft, light material that drooped away from - her upraised arm left its rounded contour and whiteness outlined against - the dark hair. - </p> - <p> - “Hiram Look!” echoed the old man, and he came straight into the middle of - the road and stood there, trying to hold himself erect, propping his hand - on his back at the waist. He made no move to step aside, and the showman - was forced to halt his animals. - </p> - <p> - “And so it’s Hiram Look come home again?” he rasped, his thin nostrils - fluttering. “And how is it he comes parading, instead of sneaking over the - back fences as he ought?” He was talking over the showman’s head to the - villagers. - </p> - <p> - The spirit of assertion seemed to have dropped from Hiram. He shook so - violently that he set his hand against the elephant to steady himself. - </p> - <p> - “Judge!” The Squire advanced close to the old man and spoke low. “My - brother is considerably unstrung by things that have just happened. Don’t - say anything to him now, please don’t! If something must be said later - about the old times there’ll be plenty of chance to say it. Wait!” His - tone was mild and entreating, but Willard still disdained to glance at - him. - </p> - <p> - “If some one hasn’t told Hiram Look what Palermo thinks of him, it’s time - for it to be done, townsmen!” shrieked Willard, his face white, his lips - drawn back over some obtrusive false teeth. - </p> - <p> - The Squire turned toward the distant figure on the porch, appeal and - apology in his eyes, though he realised that she could not witness his - emotions. - </p> - <p> - “Better for you to have stayed with the husks and the swine, Hiram Look. - You thought you left him for dead, my boy Kleber. Don’t you tell me! You - wanted to kill him. My poor boy! To leave me in my old age without my son! - And the scar of it on his face to-day! There’s a law for you yet, Hiram - Look—a law to make you suffer for that scar. A pretty pair—yes, - a pretty pair! Old Seth Look’s pair of steers! And Hiram would have robbed - my boy of a wife, and Phin Look thought he could steal my daughter. Now, - I’ll tell you both——” - </p> - <p> - “No, you won’t tell us—not here in the face and eyes of every one in - Palermo!” roared Hiram. “I’m ready for your tongue and your law at fittin’ - time and place, Coll Willard, but this ain’t the time. I told your son - twenty-five years ago that there was such a thing as talking too damn much—and - he still talked. Don’t you do it to-day.” - </p> - <p> - “Do you want to put your mark on the father’s face?” the old man shrieked, - hobbling close and poking forward his weasened visage. “Strike me! Kill - me! It’s your style, Hiram Look. And it’s your brother’s style to lallygag - after a girl that wouldn’t use him for a doormat. The two of you are——” - </p> - <p> - The showman could restrain himself no longer. He had stood with feet apart - as though to root himself in the ground. His hands were hooked behind him. - </p> - <p> - He hadn’t lost the whole of that Palermo instinct of deference toward the - village plutocrat and autocrat who had dominated them all for so many - years, even as other Willards had ruled before him. But the choler that - drove him forward was the rage of a man who had never learned - self-control. His brother leaped to prevent him, but he seized the old - man, whipped him off the ground, rushed across the sidewalk and tossed him - over the iron fence upon his own lawn, where he lay squawking feebly like - a frightened fowl. - </p> - <p> - The Squire followed, gasping appealing protest, and he stood there - clutching the rusty points of the fence when the woman came hastening from - the porch. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t think the Judge is’ hurt a bit, Sylvena,” he faltered. “But he - provoked Hime’s awful temper, and I couldn’t stop it.” - </p> - <p> - Judge Willard had scrambled to his feet, snarling at her when she came to - aid him. His rage was now the hysteria of the aged, but after gasping - wordlessly he turned and went toward the house. Hiram, his head bowed as - though he were ashamed of his burst of rage, had started his caravan, and - the crowd followed. Squire Phin remained. - </p> - <p> - The woman across the fence was mature, yet she had that appearance of - freshness that spinsterhood under forty years preserves in the little - details. Her face had been flushed by her haste, and the colour crept up - to the dark hair, that had just a touch of frost at the temples. - </p> - <p> - “And it is your brother come home, Phineas?” she asked, gazing after the - picturesque spectacle. - </p> - <p> - “It is Hiram.” His tone was wistful. - </p> - <p> - “He seems to be fully as—as muscular as ever,” she said, with a - little flash of her eyes. - </p> - <p> - As he seemed searching his mind for suitable apology, she said hastily: - </p> - <p> - “And I also know what father is, Phineas. I can understand. It is nothing - that you have done. But it all seems to be beginning over again, and I - hoped it was ended.” - </p> - <p> - “I guess it’s like the fire in old Ward’s peat bog,” he replied, a wrinkle - of humour about his eyes. “It has been burning for twenty years - underground and breaks out every little while. I can sympathise with - Ward’s peat bog,” he added. “Every now and then, when I think it’s cold - and dead and stamped out—my own particular smoulder, you know—there’s - a breath of remembrance, when I see you, and I’m all afire again inside. - Hard case, isn’t it?” - </p> - <p> - He didn’t allow his tone to be too serious. - </p> - <p> - “It isn’t well to speak of such things, Phineas. And not in that way! - Somehow, it hasn’t come right for you and me. We mustn’t blame each other. - It hasn’t seemed to be our fault.” She cast a glance at the waggons - toiling up the street. He gazed at the old man, who had paused half way - across the lawn and was querulously shouting “Daughter!” - </p> - <p> - The Squire leaned a bit further over the fence. - </p> - <p> - “I guess it has been ten years, Sylvena,” he said, “since I’ve let you see - my fire break through the crust. I didn’t intend to let it show again, for - I know your heart is tender. I don’t blame you for feeling that a daughter - owes much to a widowed father. I’d be the last to break up a family. I - haven’t any right to blame you. Don’t worry about me, ever. But I can’t - seem to forget, and while I keep on loving you I am having an awfully good - time all by myself doing so.” - </p> - <p> - With frank impulsiveness the woman came close to the fence and patted his - big hand that clutched the iron paling. But this frankness in her action, - her demeanour, and in the free and honest gaze she gave him, did not - console him. - </p> - <p> - “Still you’re ‘Sleeping Beauty,’ Sylvena,” he said, half whimsically, half - bitterly. - </p> - <p> - The old man had returned part way down the broad lawn, and was yelping - “Daughter!” in his thin voice with increasing impatience. - </p> - <p> - She smiled at the Squire as though the jest of his last words were one - well understood between them. - </p> - <p> - “No, only an old maid, Phineas,” she replied, softly. “Sometimes I think - that old maids are like poets—born, not made.” - </p> - <p> - “But you’ve let ’em make <i>you</i> one,” he retorted. “It isn’t - often I speak of it, Sylvena. You know that. It has been enough for me to - walk the same streets with you and have a smile and a word of friendliness—-it’s - enough most of the time. But my heart has been stirred to-day, and all the - old feelings are on top. You have let that stingy old man——” - he shook his fist at the Judge, who returned this salute with great - spirit, “rob you of the best that a woman ought to have—and that’s a - home and a good husband. Oh, I am not speaking of myself!” he cried, his - colour coming and a sort of boyish embarrassment overwhelming him. “I - don’t know how to say such things very well, but I didn’t mean myself. I - never could wake ‘Sleeping Beauty.’ But if the prince himself had come - along your father would have driven him away so that he could continue to - monopolise your loyalty and devotion. The only reason he wants you to - marry King Bradish is because he knows that Bradish will sit outside like - a pup and wait until he opens the door.” - </p> - <p> - The Squire was thoroughly angry. The spectacle of the old man hobbling - down the lawn and calling at them as though they were offending children - exasperated him. - </p> - <p> - “Forgive me, Sylvena,” he choked, breaking in upon her pained and somewhat - indignant protest. “But, being a Look, I am pretty much human. You can’t - stop me from loving you. God knows I can’t stop myself. I’d like to be - able to put out my hand and say to you ‘Sister!’ and look at you as you - look at me, but I can’t do it!” - </p> - <p> - “From the time I was fifteen years old, Phineas,” she said wistfully, “I - was mother to my mother!” A picture of the frail paralytic in her wheel - chair rose before him. “I took her place in our home when she died—yes, - before she died. It is a sacred promise that a girl makes to a mother, - Phineas, when that mother, helpless as an infant, trusts her, believes her - and goes smiling down into the grave, securely depending on that promise.” - </p> - <p> - The Judge was close upon them. - </p> - <p> - “I didn’t hardly expect you to marry me, Sylvena,” said the Squire, gazing - gloomily at the old man. - </p> - <p> - “I’ve never dared to think much about marrying any one,” she said, her - eyes straying to the caravan in its halo of dust. “Somehow, it hasn’t - seemed to come right.” - </p> - <p> - “Some day there’ll be a man come along and you’ll know what it means to be - willing to give up every other thing in this world and not be able to - think about letting any one else step between you, and as it will have to - be a mighty good man to make you feel that way, I’ll step up then and give - you the best word I have, Sylvena, and perhaps I can begin to feel like a - brother toward you. I’m generous enough to pray God that you may feel that - way sometime.” - </p> - <p> - “No wonder you’re trying to beg off your brother, Phineas Look,” shrilled - the Judge, interposing himself between them. He had caught a word of the - Squire’s speech as he came up. “But you can’t do it! The law is going to - take him. I’ll see that it does.” He whirled on his daughter. “Why do you - stand here talking with this man when you know what he and his tribe are - and how they have always treated us?” - </p> - <p> - She had taken his arm and was trying to lead him away, aware of the - futility of argument or even reply. - </p> - <p> - “You can’t come around this family, Phin Look,” stormed the Judge, “by - wheedling a girl who hasn’t had self-respect enough to spit on——” - </p> - <p> - “Judge Willard!” The voice of the Squire was so tense, so pregnant, that - the old man stopped and looked at him. The lawyer was clutching a paling - in each hand. He had projected his face over the fence. He was grayish - white, and his eyes glowed under their knotted brows. “Don’t you discuss - the honest and faithful friendship there is between your daughter and - myself. Do you understand me?” The old man looked at him, “plipping” his - lips as though searching for a reply. - </p> - <p> - “You have hogged the best out of her life. You have stood between her and - some man’s honest affection. I want you to know that I hate every ounce of - your stingy old skin and bones. I——” but he checked himself - and turned to the daughter with an appealing smile breaking through the - white rigidity of his countenance. “Oh! Oh! Oh!” he murmured, with a wag - of his head for each exclamation. “What a savage old whelp it is that’s - barking over your fence, Sylvena. Forgive me again.” - </p> - <p> - He turned hastily and went up the street, following the caravan. Old Eli, - who had been patiently waiting on the sidewalk’s edge, fell in at his - master’s heels. - </p> - <p> - And before him was Hiram guiding the grotesque elephant between the great - silver poplars before Squire Phin’s lonely home. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER III—FROM THE MOUTH OF MARRINER AMAZEEN - </h2> - <p class="indent20"> - “Narrer to the heel and wide to the toe, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - And that’s the way the Look boys go. - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Good boy Phin, he don’t raise time, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - But pepper-sass’s hot and hell’s in Hime.” - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - —Old Palermo “Plaguin’ Song.‘’ - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hen Marriner - Amazeen plodded down street early next morning, he found Uncle Lysimachus - Buck perched in solitary and surly state on the platform of Brickett’s - store. A thick-foliaged maple tree shielded the platform as long as the - sun was low in the east, and the platform was a desirable post of - observation, since it commanded the Cove and the fishing fleet, as well as - the village square. - </p> - <p> - “You’ve been el’phunteerin’, hey, along with the rest of the fools in the - place?” sneered Uncle Buck as Amazeen grunted down beside him on the - platform. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I called in to see how Hime had got settled, if that’s what your - slur means,” retorted Amazeen with some resentment. - </p> - <p> - Silence fell upon them for a time. - </p> - <p> - “Where’s he put old Cabbage-leaf-ear?” asked Uncle Lysimachus at last. - </p> - <p> - “None of your dum bus’ness. Go see!” - </p> - <p> - The silence endured longer. - </p> - <p> - “I didn’t mean nothin’ to rasp your feelin’s, ‘Mad’!” his old friend - apologised at last. “All is, I pus’nally don’t want to go peekin’ so like - sin and Sancho, same’s the people in this place us’ly do when anything - comes to town that ain’t cut and dried. I’d really like to know, though, - how things is gittin’ squared ’round up to the Squire’s.” - </p> - <p> - Amazeen remained sullenly silent, but his desire to gossip conquered his - spleen at last. - </p> - <p> - “Wals’r, Lys, it’s wuth your goin’ up,” he broke out with a chuckle. “That - el’phunt’s loomin’ up in the middle of the barn floor with her hind leg - hitched to a sill beam; them chariot carts is in the yard, the hosses - fillin’ the stalls and the tie-up, folks standin’ ’round askin’ - questions, and every durn young one in town rampagin’ ’round there! - I should think it would drive the Squire out of his mind—him that - has allus lived old bach and nothin’ to bother. It has set that old mare - of his into spasms. He had to hitch her off in the woodshed, and there she - stands with her head and tail up and snortin’ and whickerin’ ev’ry time - she thinks of how that el’phunt looked when they was introduced. - El’phunt’s name, by the way, is Imogene! Don’t that beat you? Imogene! So - Hime said this mornin’. Told us she was a real pet, and he brought her - along ’cause she would take on so if he tried to shake her. He’s - had her clos’ on fifteen years, he says. Sold her when he bust up his - show, but she swatted ’round her with her trunk, Hime says, and - stove down bars and bellered Hail Columby and pulled up stakes and got - away and follered him. Hime says Imogene is the only one in the world that - ever has given a continental cuss for him and stuck to him, and he says - that him and her will allus stick to one another after this. Says he’s - li’ble to start out circussin’ ag’in.” - </p> - <p> - “I s’pose the whole neighbourhood’s standin’ ‘round, listenin’ to them - yarns, heh?” grumbled Uncle Buck. - </p> - <p> - “Well, it’s all interestin’ to hear,” declared Ama-zeen sturdily. “And he - ain’t nobody’s fool, Hime ain’t.” - </p> - <p> - “It looks to me,” Uncle Lys growled on, “as though Squire Phin had got - more’n one el’phunt on his hands. Here’s Hime a-traipsin’ back home with - that gor-rammed turn-out, and before he’s been here no time he sasses the - whole town of Palermo, throws Judge Willard over his own fence and tears - ’round gen’rally. Here’s the old row between the fam’lies busted - out ag’in, and prob’ly more to happen when Klebe Willard gits home and - hears of it.” - </p> - <p> - “Don’t you reckon that Klebe has got fully as many of Hime Look’s marks on - him now as he wants to carry?” inquired Amazeen, drily. - </p> - <p> - “Klebe Willard, cap’n of the ‘Lycurgus Webb,’ turned forty-five, and - muscled up from knockin’ down P. I. sailors, ain’t exactly the same feller - he was when Hime Look scolloped him off twenty-five years ago,” Amazeen - retorted. “I tell you, Lys, you’re going to find out that old ‘Hard-Times’ - wasn’t snuffin’ at no pansy bed when he stood there yesterday with his - nose up. He was smellin’ trouble.” - </p> - <p> - Brickett had lounged out of the store and stood munching a sliver of - cheese that he had scraped from the broad knife after serving a customer. - </p> - <p> - “That old fool is gittin’ to be a town nuisance,” he observed. “When I - came down this mornin’ he was standin’ across from Judge Willard’s house - like a setter dog opposite a fox hole, croakin’ ‘Hard times a-comin’ to - P’lermo.’ I don’t reckon that hard times is goin’ to start from Coll - Willard’s place. Leastways, if I was as well fixed as the old Judge is I - shouldn’t be reckonin’ to see hard times roostin’ on my primises just yit - awhile.” - </p> - <p> - “You ain’t alius lived in P’lermo same’s me and Lys has, Brickett,” said - Amazeen. “I don’t know what kind of things is goin’ to happen or what kind - of a hard-times bird has come to nest on Coll Willard’s place, but it - don’t take no seventh sense to smell trouble in this town now. Hime Look - will make it without meanin’ to. He ain’t nat’rally a bad man, Hime ain’t. - It’s his cussed tongue and the freaks he takes. Ev’ry one ’round - him keeps gittin’ all stirred up. Long ago’s he went to the district - school he had all the girls in fidgits about the snakes and frogs he - lugged in his pants pockets—wa’n’t happy without a menagerie. - </p> - <p> - “Run away with circuses three times and old man Look had to chase him up - and bring him home. Started off once with a shelter-tent and a angle worm - in a mustard bottle and followed the fairs ’round in counties above - here. Wa’n’t scarcely eighteen then, but he had more cheek than a Guinea - nigger. Folks would listen to him shoutin’ up that ‘infant anaconda’—-that’s - what he called the angle-worm—and would pay ten cents and go in and - then would come out mad as they could stick. Most of the time he was able - to keep hollerin’ so loud that no one could hear them complainin’. He’d - say: ‘The gentleman who has jest come out of the tent states that under - this canvas is the grandest sight that the civilised world has got to - offer. He advises his friends to pass in, one and all, and behold the only - infant anaconda in captivity.’ It certainly did take cheek to run that - show, but he had it.” - </p> - <p> - Amazeen went fishing in his pockets for a match. - </p> - <p> - “Well, he couldn’t always holler ’em down, could he?” inquired - Brickett, skeptically. “I should have thought that some one would ’a’ - showed him up.” - </p> - <p> - The old man chuckled. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, once in a while a man would git heard and then Hime would bend down - and ask: - </p> - <p> - “‘What’s the matter with you?’ - </p> - <p> - “‘Why, he ain’t longer’n your finger,’ the man would yap back. - </p> - <p> - “‘Oh, he ain’t big enough? That’s it!’ Hime would say. ‘Well, go right - back in and wait till he grows. ‘There won’t be any extry charge.’ - </p> - <p> - “And then the rest of the crowd that always likes to see a man took in - would laugh and Hime would go on cheerful as a cricket. But if he’d had - less cheek he’d have got rid’ on a rail out of ev’ry fair ground.” He - closed down the little “pepper-pot” cover over his pipe bowl. - </p> - <p> - “Then there was Hime’s dancin’ turkey,” he went on, apparently enjoying - his recollections hugely. “For two or three years after that he was ’round - with a fiddle and turkey and a sheet of tin. He’d put the turkey on the - tin with nettin’ around and set behind and fiddle ‘Speed the Plough,’ and - keep moving a lamp back and forth under that tin with his toe, and the old - gobbler would have to tip-toe Nancy mighty lively to hunt for the cool - places. Looked like he was jiggin’. I’m knowin’ to it that he cleaned up - sev’ral thousand dollars on that ‘dancin’ turkey,’ as he called it. - </p> - <p> - “All the time his father couldn’t do nothin’ with him! Kind of a - good-meanin’ chap, Hime allus was, though. Lib’ral with his money. Come - easy, went easy. Drove a nice team. Girls all liked him. No girl caught - him, though, till little Myry Austin got into long dresses. Hime was nigh - onto thirty then, and had gone into a general dickerin’ bus’ness about the - same as King Bradish does in town now; sold produce on commission, you - know, and handled farmin’ tools, and so forth. He got to be real likely - them days, and he reelly did think an awful sight of that Austin girl. It - straightened him all out, havin’ her take a likin’ to him, and ’twas - all understood in P’lermo as bein’ settled between ’em. And then - what did young Klebe Willard do but come back from college with a cap on - the back of his head ’bout as big as a cooky and his hair puffed - out in front and puttin’ on more airs than a pigeon on a ridgepole. And - havin’ nothin’ else to do he cut out Hime, and Hime didn’t know it for a - long time, ’cause Klebe done his courtin’ on the sly on account of - the old man. And when Hime did find it out—last one almost in the - village, as us’ly happens in them cases, and got the mitten—well, - you talk about goin’ to Tophet at an angle of forty-five with the track - greased! Nothin’ but cards and hoorah-ste’boy, and tryin’ to make believe - he didn’t care. I swanny, ’twas pitiful when you knowed what was - underneath.” - </p> - <p> - Amazeen sighed and bored his cane into the soil, his elbows on his knees. - </p> - <p> - “There was excuses for him, most of us knowed that!” volunteered Uncle - Buck. - </p> - <p> - “And as though he hadn’t done enough in breakin’ up the engagement—which - wa’n’t no trouble, seein’ that Hime was so much older and she only kind o’ - silly and teetered up by havin’ a dude like Judge Willard’s boy show her - attention—Klebe had to go and sass Hime one ev’nin’ right here in - front of this store—-that was when old Bruce owned it. Hime was - pretty well tea-ed up—drinkin’ some, you understand, along with the - rest—and he drove up here, leaned back and looked a long time at - Klebe, who was standin’ on the platform smokin’ a cigarette. ‘I bought her - ev’rything I could think of,’ says Hime, ‘but she had to go dicker for a - poodle-dog and trade herself off, even swap!’ - </p> - <p> - “Now with Hime so wrought up and all that, Klebe ought to have passed - along, but he thought he had a tongue-walloper’s license, bein’ Coll - Willard’s boy, and started in and called Hime ev’rything he could lay - tongue to and then pitched into the Look fam’ly, root and branch in - general; called old Look an ignorant clod-hopper, and said that sendin’ - Phin to college was about like tryin’ to gold-plate an Early-Rose potater. - And then he barked right out there in public—bein’ dizzy-headed by - that time, I reckon—that all Myry Austin had cared about Hime, - anyway, was to watch him perform ’round her, same as boys spit on a - stick and throw it into a mill-pond for Towser to fetch back. And when - Hime still set there takin’ it, Klebe was startin’ in on things that was - worse still, when Hime came over his waggon wheel like a pick’rel after a - skip-bait and—well, when ’twas over Klebe Willard had marks - on his face that will always be there. Hime picked him up—everyone - was too scared to mess in—and lugged him on his back to Judge - Willard’s and throwed him over the fence about where he boosted the old - man to-day, and hollered: ‘Here’s something to feed to your cat!’ Then he - came back and got into his team before old Constable Denslow had got so he - could speak. - </p> - <p> - “‘I shall have to arrest you, Hime,’ he says, ‘as I reckon you’ve killed - him!’ - </p> - <p> - “‘Arrest hell!’ says Hime. ‘I tried to kill him!’ And he slashed old - Denslow across the face with his whip and went out of the village, hootin’ - and gallopin’ his horse, with eighteen hundred or two thousand dollars - owin’ to people ’round here. And since that night Hime Look ain’t - been seen in this village till yesterday, and from what was dropped by - word o’ mouth ’tween him and Phin, it’s pretty plain he ain’t been - heard from by his fam’ly, either.” - </p> - <p> - He checked his garrulous narration in order to relight his pipe. - </p> - <p> - “It’s been a hard blow for Squire Phin, it all has,” observed Uncle Buck. - “Just finishing college when it happened, and havin’ the record of bein’ - the smartest critter there! He had the chance to go into a big city - law-office, but there was poor old Seth knocked flat’s a flounder, his - name on notes to wholesalers who’d sold to Hime, and feelin’ holden for - all the other debts. - </p> - <p> - “Phin done what few boys would do. He come home, put his shoulder to the - wheel and taught school and studied law between-whiles—and, well, we - all know how he’s worked it out.” - </p> - <p> - “There was more than the money side of it, too, that he had to face,” - broke in Amazeen. - </p> - <p> - “Seems as if I’ve heard hints that he was pretty fierce took in a certain - quarter,” observed Brickett, with a sly look. - </p> - <p> - “Lord, I guess there was hints and more, too,” snapped Amazeen. “Why, he - lugged Sylveny Willard’s dinner pail to and from school when they was so - young that neither noticed there was any diff’rence between Seth Look and - Coll Willard. Kind of one of those cases where two young ones nat’rally - took to each other. I was postmaster for a spell and they wrote reg’lar - when he was away to college, till all to once old Coll knowed about it and - realised that Sylveny had got out of the ABC age. He up and howled blue - murder and right on top came the Hime part. Gad, no, he wouldn’t consider - Phin Look for a son-in-law—wa’n’t pedigree enough to him.” - </p> - <p> - Amazeen’s tone was scornful. - </p> - <p> - “That’s why he f’it off Klebe marryin’ Myry Austin year after year till it - looked as though they never would git married—and from all I hear - about the way they git along now, I reckon ’twould have been better - all around if the old Judge had f’it harder. Klebe had to break loose and - git a vessel for himself before he dared to buck the old man and marry - her. I don’t believe he really ever wanted her, anyway, but she’s one o’ - them women that’s like a sheet of fly paper—git it on your fingers - and try to pull it off and it keeps stickin’ in a new place. She’s too - pretty to have much head. Ain’t ever had anything to steady her down, and - that keeps Klebe guessin’ and mad a good part of the time when he’s home.” - </p> - <p> - “If I’d have been Phin Look I’d have run away with Sylvena Willard years - ago,” grunted Uncle Lysimachus. “I’ll bet she’d have gone. A dummed old - hog like Coll Willard ain’t got no right to keep two people like them - apart. And more’n that, he’s torchin’ her all the time to marry King. - There ain’t a woman in this village that women-folks in trouble run to as - they do to her, and we all know what Squire Phin is to P’lermo! There - ain’t hardly a family in this town that he ain’t settled a fuss for—not - in courts and by runnin’ up bills of expense, but by kind words and - common-sense and good advice and by gittin’ right inside a critter’s - heart. A man ain’t goin’ to get rich by that way of practisin’ law, but, - by jerro, he’s earnin’ the kind of currency that they say makes a - millionnaire in eternity. He’s the husband Sylvena Willard ought to have, - and, by gad, if I was her I’d have him!” - </p> - <p> - “Did you ever stop to think, Lys,” drawled Ama-zeen, “that people who have - things pretty much their own way, without carin’ what other people want, - who tromp over commands, disobey parents, bust into fam’lies and all that, - are pretty apt to be scaly critters? Bein’ as they are, Sylveny Willard - and Phin Look deserve to have each other; but bein’ as they are, it’s - almighty likely they never will. Cuts both ways, you see! A woman that - forgets all her father has done for her and leaves him alone in his old - age and goes away to a man that he is dead ag’inst, has got the - disposition to treat a husband as bad as she has a father. May not do it, - understand—but the disposition is there. Marryin’ and givin’ in - marriage is all right, but fam’ly loyalty is something, too. You want to - remember that Coll Willard probably don’t seem to her the same as he does - to us. A man that busts into a family when he knows he ain’t wanted may be - gritty and in love, and all that, but he’s puttin’ himself and his - pleasure and in-t’rests first, and lettin’ others trail. Phin Look allus - has practised what he preaches to his clients. But it has sartinly - happened bad for him—Hime’s cuttin’ up and all the rest, and it - ain’t lookin’ much better just now.” - </p> - <p> - “I had an idea they’d git married sometime,” said Brickett. “You’ll find - that Squire Phin has had some partic’lar mighty good reason for stayin’ in - this little place. He don’t belong here and he never has. A drummer told - me that outside of here he’s called one of the best-read men in the State. - Judges all say that, the drummer told me. He don’t have to stay here, not - by a long shot. Yes, I thought they’d git married some day when old Coll - got through, but I guess this Hime matter comin’ up agin will bust things - forever. Klebe will take it up.” - </p> - <p> - “I’ll tell you what I think will happen now,” broke in a tall young man - who had sauntered up and had been listening. - </p> - <p> - No one asked any questions. Amazeen bored his cane deeper with indignant - twistings, as he reflected on the situation. - </p> - <p> - “I reckon she’ll give in to the Judge at last and marry King Bradish.” The - lounger spoke with tone of conviction. - </p> - <p> - Buck and Amazeen slowly turned their heads and stared at each other with a - singular look of mutual intelligence. Amazeen’s lips were set in a - straight line above his bristly brush of short chin beard. There was a - flicker of malice in Uncle Buck’s gray eyes, glittering under their tufted - brows. - </p> - <p> - When they had established a thorough understanding by means of a prolonged - stare, they simultaneously struggled to their feet and started around the - store. At the foot of the outside stairway they paused and looked at each - other again. - </p> - <p> - “Ain’t nobody else up there with him, is there?” asked Amazeen. - </p> - <p> - “No one ain’t gone up sence he opened shop,” replied Buck. “He got down - early.”’ - </p> - <p> - “I don’t blame him,” snorted Amazeen. “What with el’phunt and hosses and - hoorah, and yard full and Hime hollerin’ ’round as though he was - front of his show tent, and that ding parrot of his squawkin’, ‘Crack ’em - down, gents; the old army game!’ I reckon the Squire couldn’t git away any - too early. Now———-” he paused, and the two men looked at - each other a long time, wrinkling their brows. - </p> - <p> - “If we try to plunk the news about Bradish and ‘Rissy Mayo to him at the - fust-off, he’ll shet us up by yappin’ out that he won’t listen to slander. - He handles ev’rything that’s spicy news just that way,” observed Buck, - dubiously. - </p> - <p> - The young man who dropped the remark about Bradish lounged around the - corner and stood eyeing the stairway, incertitude written large on his - vapid countenance. - </p> - <p> - Buck, with the air of a conspirator, cautiously reached out his cane and - rapped Amazeen’s foot. When the latter raised his abstracted gaze from the - ground, Buck winked prodigiously and jerked his head sideways. Amazeen - turned and eyed the young man with a shrewd twinkle of understanding. - </p> - <p> - “Son!” he called softly. The young man came along to them. - </p> - <p> - “You ain’t ever had that talk o’ yourn with the Squire, have ye?” - </p> - <p> - A mournful wag of the head. - </p> - <p> - “Wouldn’t you like to have me’n Lys, here, to sort o’ pave the way?” - </p> - <p> - The head waggled again in token of reviving interest. - </p> - <p> - “Well, you go stand acrost the road and when you see me come to the winder - and toss out my cud o’ terbacker, you boost along up. Me’n Lys is takin’ a - friendly int’rest in the case for you. Now go ’long over there and - watch out.” He pushed the young man away hastily as he began to stammer - thanks. - </p> - <p> - “I can’t talk with the dum fool,” he growled through the corner of his - mouth, as he led the way up the stairs. “Fur’s I’m concerned I wisht he - was married to a half dozen jest like the one he’s hitched up with. But as - long’s we’ve got to git this thing to the Squire ’round Robin - Hood’s barn, Mayo’s fool makes a good road-breaker, as you might say. Now - I’ll start in on the Squire as though I was ready mad because he has - married Wat to that girl, and that will bring him up all standin’ to argue - that the marriage is a rousin’ success.” - </p> - <p> - “One that King Bradish is tryin’ to mess into and bust up, hey?” suggested - Buck with a knowing leer. - </p> - <p> - Amazeen returned the look with just as much significance, thrust his elbow - into Buck’s ribs and started up the stairs. - </p> - <p> - “You’re right,” asserted Buck. “The Squire’ll fight other folkses’ battles - before he’ll take up his own—always did, always will, prob’ly. Now, - I reckon if we manage this thing right, King Bradish will get the wickin’ - put to him in good shape.” - </p> - <p> - He stopped outside the door of the office and concluded in a husky - whisper: - </p> - <p> - “Even if the Squire don’t get her, Lys, let’s fix it so that King Bradish - never will. Sylveny Willard’s too good a girl to be wasted that way, and - if the Judge gits devil-set enough he’s li’ble to drive her right into it. - Now we’ll ste’boy the Squire onto King in spite of himself.” - </p> - <p> - “That critter has rid’ around town with his nose up ‘bout’s long as I can - stand it,” said Amazeen. - </p> - <p> - “He’s a stuck-up, blame-fired skunk, that’s what he is,” snapped Buck, the - memory of certain sneers about “Palermo’s mossbacks” burning hotly with - him. - </p> - <p> - The conspirators composed their faces and went in. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IV—SQUIRE PHIN FINDS HYMEN’S TORCH BURNING HIS FINGERS - </h2> - <p class="indent15"> - “Old Widder Bugg was a-weanin’ her ca’f, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Used ha’f for herself and the ca’f had ha’f, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - But he bellered all day and he blatted all night, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And he hollered for his rations so tough and tight, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - That the widder she fed him one last, square meal, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And the next he knowed he was peddled for veal. - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Oh, nice little ca’ves that is bein’ weaned, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Shouldn’t keep blattin’ when the cow’s been dreened.” - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - —Effort by “Rhymester” Tuttle. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>f the four - strap-bottomed “company chairs” in Squire Look’s office, “three had - spavins and the other the blind staggers,” as old Uncle Lysimachus Buck - expressed it. But by dint of balancing on the sound legs or bracing - against the wall at the right angle, or by extreme care in easing one’s - self into a safe position, the loafers who dropped in to smoke managed to - worry along. When the wood box cover was shut down that made a seat for - two. As for clients, when the chairs were occupied clients were glad to - roost on a corner of the big table and rap their heels with great ease of - manner and comfort of person. - </p> - <p> - The Squire’s visitors sat down and as promptly lighted their pipes. - </p> - <p> - “As I was tellin’ ye, Squire, the other day,” began Marriner Amazeen, - after pausing to quack briskly at his pipe stem to kindle the waning lire, - “I don’t see what in sanup ye was thinkin’ of to torch Watson Mayo up to - marry that hity-tity-flighty little fool for. The minister wouldn’t marry - ’em and you done it, and so of course the Mayos lay the blame to - you.” He made great show of resentment. Buck apparently had much trouble - in refraining from grinning. - </p> - <p> - The ’Squire, who had been feeding the stove, dusted his hands - smartly and pudged slowly back to his armchair without replying. He picked - up his pipe, surveyed a match, end to end, preparatory to scratching it, a - quizzical pucker about his mouth. - </p> - <p> - “You remember the time Benson Wallace had all his new grading washed away - by the cloudburst, ’Mad’?” - </p> - <p> - Amazeen nodded grimly. He did not relish Squire Look’s illustrations. - </p> - <p> - “Well, Bens’ came bootin’ down to the office here and wanted me to sue - Deacon Bassett, who had been praying for rain to fill his mill-pond. Laid - the whole damage of the cloudburst to the deacon’s power of supplication. - I don’t have anything to do with these love cloudbursts around here.” - </p> - <p> - “But you encouraged the cussed fools—torch ’em on,” persisted - Amazeen. - </p> - <p> - “No, it’s a chap named Hymen that carries the torch, ’Mad’. In - Wat’s case I wasn’t even actuated by a mercenary motive, for he owned up - that he didn’t have the fee, and he hasn’t paid me yet, and he probably - never will.” - </p> - <p> - “And them’s the kind of double-hitches you’re throwing the harness over!” - sneered Amazeen. - </p> - <p> - “She’s handsomer than the chromo picture on a calendar—you’ve got to - say that about the snippet,” commented Lysimachus Buck, desiring to - provoke the Squire to retort. - </p> - <p> - “You’d ought to ’a’ plunked advice right to him not to do it, - Squire,” sputtered Amazeen. “It has raised the devil with him—and he - wasn’t none too bright before. Who knows anything about an industrial - school girl like her? She don’t know nothin’ about herself. I tell you, - it’s been a hard pill for the Mayos to swaller. Their only boy clearin’ - out like he done, leavin’ a good, comf’table home and now only a swipe in - Jote Bradley’s livery stable!” - </p> - <p> - The lawyer leaned back in his chair, and, hooking his leg over the arm, - softly scratched the back of the appreciative old dog with dangling boot - toe. - </p> - <p> - “Eli, here, has often remarked to me,” he said, squinting up at the - cracked ceiling, the quizzical pucker still at his mouth corners, “that I - let love as a special pleading overrule exceptions right along. - </p> - <p> - “I do really suppose I have done a master sight of malicious mischief in - the world by marrying these young critters that are fighting the old folks - and don’t dare to flee to the parsons, and haven’t a single, reasonable, - sensible, <i>business</i> excuse for getting married, except that they’ve - fallen in love themselves instead of waiting and letting the farms or the - fishing schooners be introduced to each other by the old folks and fall in - love. There’s nothing prettier in this world, ’Mad,’ than a hundred - and twenty acre farm sighing with its corn tassels and a neighbouring farm - rippling back an answer with its oat heads, and both of ’em getting - so much in love with one another that it is only necessary for the young - folks to get together and ratify the match and count the wedding - presents.” - </p> - <p> - Old Amazeen snorted disgustedly. “There ain’t no more practicality to you, - Squire, than there is to a June bug tryin’ to butt the moon. I tell ye, - proputty has got to be considered first!” - </p> - <p> - The Squire still gazed meditatively at the ceiling through the tobacco - smoke. - </p> - <p> - “’Mad’,” he said, in that half-jesting tone that many Palermo - literalists characterised as ‘too free and easy for a lawyer,’ “you’ve - loafed here a good deal and I’ve heard you comment on most of the Palermo - vital statistics—births and deaths and marriages. Now here’s the - difference between you and Eli, here. You say, ‘Huh! ’nother brat - got along down to So-and-so’s, and only last week she was rapping out - Hungryman’s ratty-too on the bottom of the flour-barrel with her - rolling-pin, trying to dust down enough for another batch of biscuit!’ But - Eli comes in, wags his tail and says to me: ‘Just came past So-and-so’s - and their dog Gyp said to me that he’d slyed in a few minutes before and - kissed the new baby on the cheek with the tip of his tongue. Said the new - baby tickled right out into the funniest little snicker!’ Gyp said: ‘Old - man, we’re all a little short just now, ’count of extra expenses - and excitement and all that, you know, or I’d ask you to have dinner with - me in honor of the occasion, but we’re going to pitch in again in dead - earnest, and I’m going to run the dog churn over to the custom dairy, and, - say! for one snicker a day from that baby I’ll trot my legs off.’” - </p> - <p> - “’Mad’, as you say it: ‘A couple more fools married before they had - a shot in their locker.’ And Eli says: ‘I happened to drop in behind that - young Davis couple in the narrow path, and though I wasn’t trying to - listen to secrets, I did hear him say: “Little wife, you aren’t sorry you - married a poor man, are you?”’” - </p> - <p> - “All that people want money for,” said she, “is to buy just such happiness - as we possess now. And their money doesn’t buy it, after all. And we don’t - have to say ‘mine’ and ‘your’ about our love. It’s all—<i>ours</i>—and - that’s a blessed word.” And then she stood on tiptoe and pulled his head - down—and if I hadn’t run up over the bank then I’d have deserved to - have a tin can tied to my tail.’ - </p> - <p> - “’Mad’, you say: ‘Well, old Brown has got done! I hear he wasn’t - wuth much property—hain’t leavin’ much behind.’ And Eli comes in - with head and tail down: ‘It’s the husband of that good, old Missus Brown - that’s dead—the lady that has set out so many plates of grub for me. - The plate wasn’t on the back porch this morning, but I sat there a little - while and I heard some one inside talking low and he said: “There was - never a man in this town who left so many friends when he died. And he - left a memory that’s worth leaving—never a mean act nor a sneaking - trick nor a gouge in a trade! Property? Oh, I don’t know. You never - thought of that when you thought of him. I only know that he used wisely - the good things he found on earth in his reach as he went along, without - seeing how much he could keep away from his neighbours.”’” - </p> - <p> - Old man Amazeen rapped out his pipe ashes and looked at the Squire - sullenly. - </p> - <p> - “Because I’ve tug-a-lugged all my life and got a little money out at - interest, I s’pose you’re gittin’ in a dig at me, too,” he growled. - </p> - <p> - “No, we were talking about young Mayo marrying Damaris Scott,” returned - Phineas, cheerily, “and you were saying, or intimating, that when two such - poor love-sick young critters come to me and want to own the privilege of - walking down life, hand in hand and heart to heart, I ought first to - inventory their property and their prospects.” - </p> - <p> - The waver in his voice, the depth of his significance was lost on the old - man. - </p> - <p> - “He gave up a good home, and where did they live the first month after - they were married?” Amazeen struck his hand on his patched knee. “Where - did they live, I say? In one of Bradley’s box stalls that Wat Mayo tacked - burlap ’round to keep out the draughts. And they ain’t much better - off now down in that Sykes’ rent, living on bannock bread and fighting - wharf rats. <i>There’s</i> one of your—“, old Ama-zeen wrinkled his - nose and brought the word out of his nostrils with a sardonic twist—“<i>love</i> - matches, Phin Look, and there’s worse than that on the docket.” - </p> - <p> - Amazeen stumped across the room to the front window. “Huh! That’s queer! - He’s coming across the street now,” he said, with a chuckle and a wink - directed at Uncle Lysimachus. - </p> - <p> - Squire Phin understood why the two old men turned their backs on him, - hunching their shoulders and shaking with suppressed mirth as the - uncertain footsteps of Mayo blundered up the outside stairs. - </p> - <p> - He was a tall and scrawny young man with black hair parted in the middle - and spatted down on his head, presenting twin surfaces as shiny as the - wings of a beetle. A thin moustache drooped over a weak mouth, and his - eyes had that bland, vacant arch above them that irritates one’s - common-sense. Stupid, smug, self-satisfied, and spoiled—the only - child of the hard-working village carpenter, he had always worn better - clothes than any other boy in Palermo, had never been allowed to work, and - had posed as a village beau. He was just the one to attract a girl fresh - from the half-penal restraint of the State industrial school and “bound - out” as a drudge to a Palermo family. - </p> - <p> - From the time when Phineas Look began first impatiently to notice the - youth loafing along the street, a cigarette dangling from his lower lip, - the sight made him angry—not with the boy, but with the parents that - were ruining him. Once he had bluntly pitched into Ezra Mayo, and from the - indignant retorts of that fond parent discovered that he vaguely prized - Watson’s stupid idleness as something aristocratic. - </p> - <p> - The fact that they now referred to this marriage as they would to an - especially sudden and fatal attack of the bubonic plague, and refused to - admit that they still had a son, appealed to the offended lawyer by its - humour rather than otherwise. - </p> - <p> - “You’ve been trying to swim in a puddle of molasses, you poor devil,” he - muttered as young Mayo came shuffling across the room. The faded glories - of his worn clothing were eloquent of what had happened in his fortunes. - His coat was ripped in the arm seam, the cuffs were frayed, but he wore - his big puff tie of baby blue, and the pungent effluvia of the stable was - toned down by cheap perfume that surrounded him like impalpable fog. - </p> - <p> - “That smell’s thick enough to cut,” murmured old Amazeen to Uncle Buck, - fingers squeezing his nostrils. The woe-begone visage of the client - stirred spasms of silent mirth in the old men. - </p> - <p> - “Well, Wat, how’s the bride?” inquired Squire Phin, with heartiness. “And - there wasn’t any hurry about your paying me that two dollars, if that’s - what you’re come in for.” - </p> - <p> - “I ain’t come to pay you no two dollars,” returned the youth, gloomily. - “First place, I ain’t got it; second place, it ain’t as I expected it was - goin’ to be.” - </p> - <p> - A subdued “tchock” sounded in the nose of Amazeen. - </p> - <p> - “Let’s see. You’re speaking now of your marriage and not of your job, as I - understand it,” suggested the Squire, relighting his pipe; “though—ump-foo—ump-foo—I - should say you’d better save such talk for the job.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I’m sort of speakin’ of the two together,” stammered the young man. - </p> - <p> - “I reckon you’d better begin to dissociate your wife from the livery - stable, Watson,” drily advised the Squire, “even though you did start - housekeeping there. Now, you’ll remember that you came to me bringing the - prettiest girl I ever saw, and you told me that it wouldn’t be worth while - for you to try to live if you didn’t have her. You don’t mean to come here - now, do you, and tell me that you don’t love her?” - </p> - <p> - “’Tain’t that,” he blurted; “oh, ’tain’t that, Squire. It’s - because I love her so much and—and—well, somehow it’s all - going wrong and I’m afraid she don’t love me. It has kind of taken the - gimp out o’ me. I didn’t think dad and ma would stand out so long—and - <i>she</i> didn’t, either, and I ain’t got no trade so I can hold down - some good job, and she ain’t satisfied with me. No, she ain’t, Squire. If - dad and ma would only take me home—if you would see ’em and - fix it and——” - </p> - <p> - “Look here, Watson.” Look threw himself forward and drove his fists on the - table with an emphasis that started the dust. “That’s why I married you - off, you fool, to get you out of leading-strings, to make a man of you, - instead of a puppy, loafing around our streets and chasing home to your - mother’s doughnut jar three times a day. Even old Eli, here, knows how to - carry home a bone for <i>himself</i>, but you hadn’t even done that for <i>yourself</i> - up to the time you were married. And I gave you something you wanted, - something to work for, something that every man needs to make a true man - of himself, except when he’s a tough old bach like me. Now what are you - whining about?” - </p> - <p> - Phineas Look’s reading of his own “heart-docket” the day before had not - inclined him over-much to amiability toward this particular variety of - ingrate. His tone was peremptory and he scowled. - </p> - <p> - “I can’t earn no kind of a livin’,” Mayo stammered. - </p> - <p> - “And you probably never will so long as you stay a chambermaid in a livery - stable. Great God, is that the limit of your ambition or your enterprise? - A man with a wife he loves, with two strong hands and a will to - get-there-Eli, to come sniveling like this! Hunt your work! Buckle to it! - That’s what will make something better of you, boy, than Mayo’s housedog.” - </p> - <p> - The taunt was wasted, for the youth persisted in his stubborn lament. “She - says now she wouldn’t have married me if she didn’t think we’d be taken - care of better.” - </p> - <p> - “What kind of cussed notions did you put in her head?” the lawyer stormed. - “If you lied to her, Watson, it’s up to you to square yourself now by - making good. Do so well by her that she’ll love you and respect you for - yourself. Don’t make me sorry that I cut your dog-leash before your - parents plumb ruined you.” - </p> - <p> - Young Mayo cast a furtive look at the two old men, and leaning over the - table murmured, his lips trembling: - </p> - <p> - “I tell you, Squire, she scares me. She says it has come to her in a - vision that she has a mother—a lady mother, somewhere, all in silks - and satins, and she’s seen her in a vision with her diamond thing on her - head. And most ev’ry night she wakes and sits up in bed and reaches up her - arms and says her lady mother just asked her to come, Squire Phin, and - she’s a-goin’. Yes, s’r, she’s a-goin’ some time and I’m scared and I - ain’t got no ambition and I can’t buy her no good clothes, and I sold my - watch and scarfpin to give her money. My Gawd, Squire, she’s a-goin’ and I - can’t live without her, nohow.” - </p> - <p> - Perspiration streamed down his quivering face and his lips “guffled” - tremulously. All the smugness and self-satisfaction were gone now, and for - the first time the lawyer saw the Mayo boy in all his wretched, - discouraging inefficiency. With a pang of self-reproach he reflected that - some natures cannot stand stiff doses—and his remedy for making over - a man had certainly been a heroic one. As he pondered, he fell into his - characteristic attitude, hands clutched into the long locks of his gray - hair, his elbows on the table. He gazed into the pathos of that quivering - face and studied it as he would the page of an open book. The little - office was very still. - </p> - <p> - “Blorh-hum!” coughed Amazeen, and he proceeded, addressing no one in - particular: “When I was a boy, goin’ to school, there was a family named - Bragg that lived clust to us, and they had a boy named Ximenus—that - was it, Ximenus Bragg. Them Braggs they was poorer—poorer’n Pooduc, - but the old man had to have his three dogs, and fin’ly Ximenus was took - with a craze for music and nothin’ would do but what he’d got to have a - snare drum. And he teased and he coaxed. Old Bragg hadn’t the gumption to - plunk his foot right down and say ‘No,’ but he’d whine and argue with the - boy and say that with winter a-comin’ on he’d ought to have long-legged - boots instead of a drum. Finally Old Bragg told Ximenus that if he would - go without the boots and not whine, he could have the drum, and the drum - he did get, by gorry. I s’pose that for a couple of days there never was a - more tickleder boy. He ratty-tooed and ratty-tummed and long-rolled and - biffed and banged and et his meals off’n the head of the thing and kept at - it till his ma was so near drove crazy that she chased him out doors with - the rollingpin and threatened to bust in the head of that drum if he ever - put stick to it ag’in in the house. - </p> - <p> - “There it was, late fall and the snow beginning to fly, and I’ll never - forget the sight Ximenus made standin’ out there on the cold door stone on - one foot and holding the other foot to the calf of his leg to warm it, and - then shifting feet to get the other warm, and drumming away all the time, - trying to keep his courage up and make himself believe that he loved music - and the drum and was glad he had it instead of them new long-legged - boots.” - </p> - <p> - “Beats all about some critters, don’t it?” commented Uncle Buck, after - listening to this tale with much interest. - </p> - <p> - “It does that,” returned Amazeen. - </p> - <p> - The Squire had not taken his eyes from the Mayo boy’s face. - </p> - <p> - “Bub,” he said softly, “they meant well—your folks—but—damn - ’em for fools. - </p> - <p> - “Are you and the little one hungry?” he asked in a half whisper after a - time, careful that the old men did not overhear. - </p> - <p> - “We ain’t suff’rin’ none, Squire, but we don’t have meat vittles nor - nothin’ the same’s I had at——” but as the hard lines crinkled - ominously around the lawyer’s gray eyes he stopped confusedly. - </p> - <p> - Shielding himself from the scrutiny of Buck and Amazeen behind the youth - who still leaned over the table, Squire Phin straightened his leg and - cautiously ran his hand into his trousers pocket. After a period of - fumbling he slid his hand along the table, slipped a bill into the palm by - which the young man was propping himself, squeezed the fingers down over - it, and said with a tenderness almost parental: - </p> - <p> - “Go buy a good, meat dinner to-day, son, and have plenty of meat hash for - supper, and perhaps the little one will sleep so soundly that the lady - mother can’t disturb her. Take good heart. As Eli, here, says: ‘The harder - you have to dig after a woodchuck, the better your appetite is when you - get him.’ We’ll see what can be done. Now straighten up. Throw back your - shoulders. Cock your knee every time you step, just like your best livery - horse—the best ‘letter,’ you know—the one all the folks ask - for. Hold up your chin and show ’em it’s natural and not a - check-rein habit. Remember all the time that you’re young, life’s ahead of - you, and the prettiest girl in Palermo is your wife. That’s the way to - face the world. Tail over the dasher. Now out and at it!” - </p> - <p> - And seizing the youth by the arm, he marched him to the door, thwacking - his broad palm between his shoulders at every step. - </p> - <p> - When Squire Phin turned and came back to his table he knotted his eyebrows - and glared at the two old men. - </p> - <p> - “Now wipe those Chessy cat grins off your faces,” he snapped. “I see - through your hectoring scheme. But you watch me. I’ll sooner or later put - that marriage along with the others I’ve pigeon-holed under the label - ‘Successes.’” - </p> - <p> - Amazeen turned to Buck. “The Squire wants to have all his marriage - certificates hold up like his title deeds, Lys—legal, binding, and - good for all time. But you mustn’t get touchy with us, Phin. It isn’t very - often that you marry a fool tumble-bug to a butterfly. Howsomever, you’ve - done it this trip, and it ain’t goin’ to be a success—and it ain’t - your fault. There’s something worse than what’s showed yet goin’ to drop - in that quarter or I’m no prophet. You’d better not be mixed too close in - it.” - </p> - <p> - “Go along with your tattling gossip,” cried the lawyer. “If you and Uncle - Lys haven’t anything better to do, go out and take a sun bath. I want to - study.” - </p> - <p> - “You know more law already than you need. You know it better than you do - some kinds of human nature, and I’m going to post you a little on the - last-named,” pursued Amazeen, cheerfully disregarding the rebuff. “There’s - more’n lady mothers and visions that’s makin’ Rissy Mayo discontented.” - </p> - <p> - “Huh-huh!” grunted Look, without apparent interest, taking down a volume - of reports and spatting the dust from it. - </p> - <p> - “And I ain’t givin’ you any guess-so,” shouted Amazeen, nettled by the - lawyer’s contemptuous snort. He stood up and cracked his cane on the - floor. “I ain’t ghostin’ ’round, ’specially, nor tryin’ to - pry into my neighbours’ business, but when I’m knowin’ to a thing that’s - poked right under my nose, why, I know it. Wat Mayo has to set up ev’ry - ev’nin’, don’t he, to wait for let teams to come in? Well, he wa’n’t out - strollin’ in the Cod Lead Nubble pines all spring and summer, he and - Rissy, she a-swingin’ her hat by the ribbons, all so fine and gay—and - that was nigh ev’ry fair night. He was settin’ in the stable office - shinin’ up hames’ brass-work and nickel trimmin’s, wa’n’t he? He ain’t - meetin’ her on the South Cove road with a buff-lined Goddard, and wearin’ - a white hat with a black band, and takin’ her aboard. No, he ain’t got any - such hat, and there’s only one buff-lined Goddard in these parts and——” - </p> - <p> - “You say you’re knowing to all that?” demanded the Squire. His gaze was - direct and glowering and his fingers gripped the volume so tightly that - they were white and bloodless. - </p> - <p> - “Not only I’m knowin’ to it, but so’s the South Cove seiners that have - their dry racks out that way.” Amazeen was defiant. The lawyer glared at - him so threateningly that he became thoroughly indignant. “And if you want - the straight facts,” he barked, “and have got to have names right out in - meetin’ to prove it ain’t just gossip, then it’s King Bradish who is - sparkin’ round the lady mother’s lovely daughter that you’ve plastered off - onto a poor boy that’s broke his people’s hearts by gettin’ married to - her. I’ve been wond’rin’ how the high-toned Sylveny Willard would like to - find that out.” - </p> - <p> - Squire Phin laid the book on the table and put his hands behind him to - hide their trembling. - </p> - <p> - “You listen a moment, Amazeen,” he said, spitting the words at the old - man; “there are limits to what a person can tell and tattle in a - community, when that telling and tattling implicates others’ good names. - You know me and you know how much you can depend on what I tell you. If I - hear another word on this matter as having been passed around the village - by you or Buck, here, I’ll give my services to King Bradish, sue you for - slander, attach every dollar’s worth you own, and, by the gods, I’ll win - my case. Now if you want your tongue to empty your pocket, go ahead and - talk.” - </p> - <p> - The old men stared at him a while and then, mumbling angrily, but plainly - intimidated, went clumping down the stairs. The Squire stood in the middle - of the office, his hands spatting each other behind him. At last the - consciousness that some one was bawling his name outside broke upon his - profound meditation. - </p> - <p> - “Squire Phin! Squire! Won’t you see here a second?” shouted Amazeen. - </p> - <p> - Look went along to the front window and threw it up. Only the old men were - in sight in the street, standing shoulder to shoulder, their faces - upturned, their beards snapping in the breeze. At this safe strategic - distance they had one more shot to fire, and their countenances showed it. - Amazeen held his hand beside his mouth and huskily whispered: - </p> - <p> - “Squire, you know—that party—the party we was talkin’ about - just now?” Sullen nod. “You needn’t sue me on his account. I won’t say - nothin’. But—Squire!” Another curt nod. - </p> - <p> - “I know that said party has owed you a settlement for quite a while, if - what folks say is true. Now, why don’t you put your bill in with Wat’s and - collect both with a”—the old man shouted the last word—“hoss-whip?” - For Squire Phin had banged down the window. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER V—HIRAM LOOK MEETS KLEBER WILLARD BRIEFLY AND BRISKLY - </h2> - <h3> - AFTER TWENTY-FIVE YEARS - </h3> - <p class="indent15"> - A nice little man came up the lane, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - And it was summer weather; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Said he, “It is jolly to meet again, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Like this, we two together. - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And if there be no other thing - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - That you can think to say, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Then it’s ‘How do you do? ’ and ‘How do you do?’ - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - And ‘How do you do, to-day? ’ ” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t was - “Figger-four” Avery who secured from Hiram Look the most information about - himself for general circulation. When, after the first few days of - wonderment, the attendance at the Squire’s premises dropped off, it was - “Figger-four” who remained loyal to the new attraction. Hiram tolerated - his constant presence because the little man’s wide-eyed, wide-eared, - wide-mouthed receptiveness of his tales flattered the eminent impresario - of Imogene and her appanage. - </p> - <p> - Avery was so small and inoffensive that the showman never resented any - questions that he asked. All others Hiram shooed off with profanity when - they hinted concerning his affairs and intentions. - </p> - <p> - “Blast him,” growled Hiram to his brother, “I feel like a sap tree with a - spile let into it when he’s around. I just drip and drip away to him and - he sets and laps it down and I can’t seem to shut off. But he’s an - obligin’ little fool.” - </p> - <p> - Avery’s soubriquet came from the appearance of his legs. A fever-sore - years before had shriveled the left leg, and the knee was set permanently - at an angle. As he bobbed along, alternately rising and sinking, he kept - presenting with his legs the shape of a grotesque 4. - </p> - <p> - “Everywhere I go,” said Hiram, “Figger-four is right at my elbow, still - askin’ questions. And I get interested in answerin’ and I forget and try - to keep step with him, and the first thing I know I’m hoppin’ along worse - than a darned jack-rabbit. But he’ll do errands like a fly.” - </p> - <p> - Therefore he did not rebuff the little man. In consequence Avery was able - to report that Hiram had travelled all over the country; that he had - brought his chariots to Palermo because he was going to start out with - another circus after he got rested up and had squared things with his - brother. Furthermore, the people who had bought his other show property - weren’t willing to pay a fair price for the waggons, and Hiram didn’t - propose to be “Jewed.” No one had ever got the better of Hiram, so Hiram - told Avery, and Avery told the people of Palermo. He had—at this - point Figger-four always took a long breath—rising forty thousand - dollars in the bank, beside what he carried in the fat pocketbook. He was - ready to lend money on first mortgages, and Avery was able to state that - already several persons whom Judge Willard had been squeezing for bonuses - on renewal of their notes had refunded their loans with Hiram. As Avery - bobbed around telling this, he served as an excellent advertising medium, - and other patrons of Judge Willard, who had been the town’s sole financial - man for years, came to the new capitalist for loans. Avery admitted that - probably the Judge would still enjoy a monopoly of handling the money of - the widows and orphans and old folks who had placed their funds with him - for investment, because Hiram was not yet morally rehabilitated in the - town’s opinion. - </p> - <p> - “But there ain’t a better man to borrow money from,” concluded his - champion. “He don’t take no bonus and he lets you have it for six per - cent, and set your own time.” - </p> - <p> - Moreover, Hiram started the hum of industry in Palermo by hiring Ezra Mayo - and several helpers to build a shelter for the circus waggons. And he was - also vaguely hinting to the admiring Avery that next season he might start - something in the way of business in Palermo that would make people open - their eyes. - </p> - <p> - “You’re all deader’n a side-show mermaid here in Palermo,” he said one - afternoon as he and Avery were sitting by the roadside under one of the - big Look poplars. “There’s a lot of things that need to be peppered up. My - brother Phin could have done it if he wasn’t too easy-goin’. Now, how long - has old Coll Willard been town treasurer?” - </p> - <p> - There was a queer glint in the good eye that Hiram turned on Avery. - </p> - <p> - “Goin’ on thirty years.” - </p> - <p> - “Does he give bonds?” - </p> - <p> - “Hain’t ever been asked to,” replied Figger-four, with the readiness of - one whose business is to know other people’s affairs. “This town wouldn’t - ask a Willard to do such a thing as that. He’s safer’n the Bank of - England, the Judge is.” - </p> - <p> - “Is, eh?” Hiram’s voice was hard. “I’ve seen a town note that was signed - with only his name as treasurer. Does the town allow him to borrow money - that way?” - </p> - <p> - “I believe Cap’n Ward did bring it up in town meetin’ once and say that - the selectmen ought to sign notes along with the treasurer. But there - wa’n’t anything done, as I remember. Cap’n was kind of a kicker. He died - the summer after that town meetin’,” added Avery, with an air as though - the death were a special visitation to punish temerity in attacking a - Willard. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I’m feelin’ pretty healthy, myself,” said Hiram, “and you watch me - go into the next town meetin’.” - </p> - <p> - “Lyme Bearce says he’ll bet you’re a disturbin’ element, no matter where - you light,” stated Avery, with the fearless naïveté of a village - news-bureau that proposes to do its full duty. - </p> - <p> - “Lyme Bearce and the whole of you be jiggered,” stormed Hiram. “I’ve been - ’round the world some, and got up against human nature, and I tell - you the only way to meet a man is with one hand hold of your wad and the - other doubled up behind your back. Old Willard ain’t goin’ to run this - town to suit himself. You watch me!” - </p> - <p> - “Then you ain’t goin’ off right away with your circus?” meekly asked - Avery. - </p> - <p> - “I shan’t be goin’ till things get dull ’round here,” crisply - returned the showman. “That’ll be after there’s a performance in one ring, - me with the whip, old Coll Willard ridin’ bareback, and ev’ry time I snap - he’ll turn a flip-flop.” - </p> - <p> - Figger-four blinked at him uncertainly. - </p> - <p> - “Let’s see, you ain’t ever seen Klebe since you—you——” - </p> - <p> - “Since I licked him! Say it; I ain’t ashamed of it,” blustered Hiram. - </p> - <p> - “Well, he’s thickened up solid’s a knot, and they say there’s more - knockin’ down o’ men on board the ‘Lycurgus Webb’ than on any other - schooner that sails out of Rockland. Terrible hard man Klebe has growed to - be!” - </p> - <p> - Avery glanced at the showman slyly to note how he received this - information. - </p> - <p> - “I have squared all accounts with Klebe Willard,” said Hiram, “but if I - owe him anything more he can come and collect it. As for his father, - that’s another matter. He took my old father by the throat after I went - away and he had the twist noose of a mortgage around him for a good hold. - He bought in accounts against us, as ev’ryone in P’lermo knows, so that he - could collect the bills in a way to add ev’ry cent of costs that - skin-skunk lawyers could tack on. And my old father and my brother was - caught foul and paid double—yes, treble—for ev’ry dollar I - owed. I ain’t nothin’ except plain muck, Avery—just a cheap renegade - that hasn’t woke up to be half decent till it is too late. Payin’ it back - to Phin don’t fix it. I shall always hate myself—but never mind - that!” He swallowed hard and shook his head violently to and fro. Sudden - passion blazed out of this moment of weakness. “There’s one thing I can do—I - can spend forty thousand dollars puttin’ Coll Willard where he put my old - father, and, by the gods, I’ll do it! That’s my business and no one’s - else, and they can’t oh-please-don’t me!—no one, Avery, no one!” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I reckon the Judge is too well fixed for <i>you</i>,” observed Avery, - wagging his head. “The Willards was always wuth money—plenty of it.” - </p> - <p> - Hiram did not reply. But he snorted contemptuously and his eye had a - strange look of craft and secret intelligence. “S’pose your brother will - be your lawyer,” suggested Avery. - </p> - <p> - “Look-a-here, Figger-four,” cried the showman, “I’ve been drippin’ away to - you as usual without meanin’ to say half that I have. My brother Phin has - been abused by old Willard, right and left, but he has been too easy to - fight back the way he ought to. I’m squarin’ things for our family in - gen’ral, but it has got to be done without Phin’s knowin’ it. Do you see? - I want to use you some, first and last, and you’ll get your pay, but if - you say one single word to Phin about what I’m doin’, I’ll twist that - other leg of yours till the joint comes behind like a cow’s hind gambrel. - Me and you, and mum! You understand!” - </p> - <p> - Avery apprehensively promised and escaped, evidently fearful lest more - secrets were to be entrusted to him. He felt that he wasn’t capable of - safely holding any more just then. But the consciousness that Hiram Look - was meditating the overthrow of such a magnate as Judge Willard propped - his eyes open a bit more widely as he hopped about the street, and people - began to wonder why Figger-four so often caught himself up in his - discourse and looked scared and hurried away. They didn’t realise how - anxiously the poor sieve was struggling to hold his secrets. The constant - and sulphurous threats of Hiram started the cold sweat whenever they - conferred together. Day by day Avery brought new bits of information that - the showman sent him to dig out of people, and day by day Hiram fitted the - information, piece to piece, only himself knowing to what it all tended. - </p> - <p> - He sat most of the time in the porch of the old house, smoking long - cigars, the parrot occasionally croaking his familiar cry as he waddled - about his cage, that was suspended from the porch roof. - </p> - <p> - “My office,” Hiram called the porch. - </p> - <p> - People who wanted to borrow money, old acquaintances, folks who loafed - along that way to hear his stories of wanderings, came and sat on the turf - of the yard or on the steps. The showman shunned Brickett’s store and the - other gathering places of the village. Once, Hard-Times Wharff came up and - started to have a weather-vane spell on the Look porch, but Hiram drove - him away with violent contumely. - </p> - <p> - “He’s crazier’n a barn rat in a thrashing machine,” the showman observed - to his faithful Avery. “Why, I hear he even said I was bringing trouble - into this place, the old liar. I’ve only come to straighten out trouble, - that’s all. Smoothin’ and glossin’ things over and lettin’ people kick you - around and never objectin’ may be some folks’ idea of livin’, but it ain’t - mine. And I don’t allow anyone to say I’m makin’ trouble when I’m doin’ a - duty. You tell that to ’em in the village, Avery, and you tell old - Whatyecallum Wharff, there, that I’ll feed him to Imogene if he snoops ’round - here again.” - </p> - <p> - But the next day Avery came bobbing hurriedly into the yard with the - breathless announcement: - </p> - <p> - “’Quar’us smelt it comin’! ’Twas a warnin’ to you, Hime!” - </p> - <p> - “Smelt what? That load of superphosphate that Cap’n Nymphus Bodfish just - brought in his packet? I can smell it, too.” - </p> - <p> - “Klebe Willard came in that packet,” gasped Avery. “His schooner is - loadin’ at Portland, and he’s up for his lay-off.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, what if he did come?” inquired Hiram, rocking on the hind legs of - his chair and boring Avery with his piercing eye. - </p> - <p> - “Why, all is, he’s talked with the Judge, and now he’s frothin’ ’round - Brickett’s store, and he’s comin’ up here. I stayed long enough to find - that out.” - </p> - <p> - “Let him come,” observed Hiram, with a calmness that troubled Avery. - </p> - <p> - The messenger snapped up the full length of his good leg and shook his - cane at the imperturbable man on the porch. “But there’s liable to be - trouble,” he cried. “Klebe’s pretty middlin’ how-come-ye-so, same as he - usually is when he’s ashore, and there’s enough folks in this place to - want to see trouble and they’ll poke him ahead. Why don’t you have him put - under bonds?” - </p> - <p> - Hiram got up and stepped down into the road. A man had already started out - of Brickett’s store and was stumping up the middle of the dusty highway. A - dozen men were leisurely following along the gravelled sidewalks. When the - distant pedestrian perceived Hiram, he shouted hoarsely, shook both fists - above his head and came on with brisk pace. - </p> - <p> - “Avery,” said Hiram, “you gallop down with your best high-Betty-Martin - tiptoe and tell that gent that’s in the middle of the road that there’s - nothing’ doin’ in the circus way here this afternoon.” - </p> - <p> - Avery stood hesitating. - </p> - <p> - “Hop along,” roared the showman, giving the man a push. “You’ve been - whinin’ that you didn’t want trouble here. Now get into the game and stop - it. You can inform Klebe Willard—for I reckon that’s him tackin’ up - this way—that when he steps his foot onto the Look place he’s - steppin’ onto a proposition that has the burnin’ deck laid away in the - ice-box. Tell him I said so.” - </p> - <p> - Hiram left the road and went into the big barn. - </p> - <p> - The other came on more rapidly now, with a shout that was something like a - jeer. He violently bumped the entreating Avery from his path and strode - into the Look yard, the retinue following at a distance. - </p> - <p> - The new arrival set his sturdy legs wide apart, threw his cloth cap on the - ground, and bellowed: - </p> - <p> - “Come out here in the fair and open, where there’s sea-room, you old - woodchuck! Come out and see the mark I’ve lugged for twenty-five years.” - </p> - <p> - He slapped his hand against his cheek where a scar showed its wrinkled - whiteness across his flushed, brown face. - </p> - <p> - “Come out!” he bawled. - </p> - <p> - “Crack ’em down, gents,” squawked the parrot, and he seized a bar - of the cage in his beak and rattled away vigorously. - </p> - <p> - “Come out!” Willard kept shouting, stamping about on the turf. “If you - ain’t turned coward as well as skin-game thief, come out!” The parrot - interspersed in these invitations his raucous cries. - </p> - <p> - “Between you and Absalom a man can’t do his chores in much peace,” calmly - said Hiram, appearing in the tie-up door. He stepped into the yard, set - the tip of a long-handled pitchfork in the ground, and leaned his shoulder - against this support. - </p> - <p> - “You see that, do you?” yelled Willard, striding forward a few steps and - putting a thick forefinger end on the scar. “That’s been there twenty-five - years.” - </p> - <p> - “Let’s see. You’re Cap’n Klebe Willard, ain’t you?” inquired Hiram, - affably. And a wordless shout answering him, he said: - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I know you and I know the mark, because I put it there myself for - good reasons.” He looked around at the little group of spectators with an - air of secure triumph. - </p> - <p> - “And you threw my poor old father over his own fence, you coward, when I - wasn’t there to defend him. Now, Hime Look, you’ve got to meet a man and - not a boy.” - </p> - <p> - He rolled his sleeves up from his hairy wrists. - </p> - <p> - “You’ve got to fight a man and fight him in order to pay a bill you’ve - owed here in Palermo for a long time.” - </p> - <p> - Look still leaned on the pitchfork. “Put down your fork!” bawled the - frenzied skipper, “I’m not one of your tame animals,” and without other - preface he rushed at Hiram. - </p> - <p> - The showman had been watching him with his sound eye glowing redly, the - glass one glaring impassively. At the skipper’s rush, with the facility an - old circus man displays with a pitchfork, he shortened the handle in his - grasp, speared one tine through the generous cartilage of Willard’s ear, - and before that furious adversary fairly realised what had happened, he - swung him on his heel, forced him back by the pain of the pierced ear, and - then driving the tines into the side of the barn, set both fists on the - end of the handle and had the frantic man a safe prisoner at the end of - the fork. Willard writhed a few times, groaning as his ear tugged against - the steel. Then he stood up, perforce as stiff as a soldier, and roared at - Hiram all the billingsgate of a long coast “language-artist.” The grim - captor simply glared at him until he had exhausted himself. - </p> - <p> - “A hyeny came at me in a cage once,” said the showman, reminiscently, in - the first pause, “and I caught him just like this, and I held him till the - fight was all out of him. Now, Klebe, you’ve come up here drunk as a - fiddler’s hoorah and wantin’ to fight. You can’t fight with me to make a - town spectacle. That’s what your father tried to do—make a town - spectacle of me. I won’t stand for it. The Willard family can have all the - trouble with me it’s lookin’ for, so far’s I’m personally concerned, but - not in knock-downs. Those don’t settle things. You can see that for - yourself. We fi’t twenty-five years ago, and here you are just as hot for - it next time I see you.” - </p> - <p> - The skipper burst into a fresh rage, and Hiram calmly waited. - </p> - <p> - “The idea is, Klebe,” he went on in a maddeningly patronising way, “you’ve - always done about as you wanted to and made others stand ’round. - Now, I’ve come back to Palermo to do a little runnin’ of things for - myself. I’ll give you your chance at me when the right and proper time - comes, and fair warning ahead. And when you say that you’ll walk off these - premises, then I’ll pull out the fork. If you don’t promise here before - these people to keep away from me and shut up about fights, you may as - well make arrangements to have your meals brought.” - </p> - <p> - At that moment Squire Phin came hastily into the yard, in advance of the - puffing, hopping, terrified Figger-four, who had brought him. - </p> - <p> - “Hiram,” he called, as he came within hearing, “release Captain Willard.” - </p> - <p> - “Not until he promises to behave himself.” - </p> - <p> - For answer the Squire, his face flaming with indignation, stepped behind - his brother, and, seizing him by the shoulders, yanked him backwards. The - fork came away and Willard stood free, clutching his bleeding ear. As he - rushed again at Hiram, the Squire stepped between. He said slowly, - quietly, yet with something in his face and his mien that was - soul-compelling: - </p> - <p> - “Captain Willard, you go home!” - </p> - <p> - After a long stare at him, a stare that at last grew wavering, Willard - turned and went out of the yard. - </p> - <p> - The Squire stood and looked at his brother while the spectators stole - sheepishly away. His hands were clasped behind his back; sorrow, anger, - and reproach were upon his face. - </p> - <p> - At last the showman stooped and dragged the fork tine to and fro on the - grass to restore its brightness. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t want to poison Imogene,” he growled. - </p> - <p> - The Squire was still silent. - </p> - <p> - “Well, say it,” snapped Hiram. “It’s on your mind. Let’s have it. I’m - gettin’ used to bein’ called names.” - </p> - <p> - But his brother only shook his head slowly, his eyes lowered to the - ground. He turned and walked back toward his office. - </p> - <p> - Hiram gazed after him as long as he was in sight, and then he went into - the barn. The big doors at the rear were open, and the elephant, with eyes - directed on the soothing landscape, was comfortably weaving to and fro. - She crooked her trunk at him as he came near and curved it around his - shoulders when he stood beside her. - </p> - <p> - “Old girl,” he said, mournfully, “I reckon the cards was stacked when they - dealt me my hand in this game o’ life. I’m a storm centre that would put a - barometer out of business, but”—he took hold of her ragged ear and - shouted into it, as though the affirmation did his resolution good,—“it’s - me for the Willard family, just the same, and Phin along with me at the - finish. You never <i>did</i> give a continental for me, old girl, till I - had licked you to a standstill, and I know families that’s like you.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VI—SQUIRE PHIN HAS A WORD OF BUSINESS WITH KING BRADISH - </h2> - <p class="indent15"> - For the dearest affection the heart can hold - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Is the honest love of the nine-year-old. - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - It isn’t checked by the five-barred gate - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Of worldly prudence or real-estate, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And that is the reason why, till the end, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - A childhood lover is loyal friend. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he little crowd - that followed Klebe Willard out of the Look door-yard moved slowly, for - the irate skipper formed the nucleus of the group and stopped every few - steps to mop at his wounded ear with a big handkerchief, while he grunted - threats and promises of vengeance. - </p> - <p> - “I hope you’ll give it to him hot and heavy, Cap’n. He needs it. To be - sure, I’ve done days’ work for him and got my pay, but I was never cussed - so much before in my life as I was by him in that one week, and I don’t - allow no man to talk that way to me.” This war-counsellor was Ezra Mayo, - the carpenter, a sallow, weasened little man who had prudently run out of - the door-yard at the showman’s first hostile movement. “And there’s others - in the Look family that better be made to mind their own bus’ness,” he - added with bitterness. - </p> - <p> - He looked around apprehensively, and he now saw Squire Phin following - slowly, as though to avoid overtaking them. - </p> - <p> - A carriage was standing in front of Brickett’s store, and the man who - occupied it leaned back with crossed legs and lazily kicked his foot over - the wheel. A white hat, a black moustache and the light lining of the - Goddard top emphasised the colour of his florid face. He looked - prosperous, well-fed and entirely self-satisfied, and hailed the - sputtering captain with great familiarity. - </p> - <p> - As the Squire turned to ascend the outside stairway the man in the - carriage flapped a greeting at him with careless hand, garbed in a tan - glove. There was in the salute the same half-mocking condescension that - marked the intercourse of King Bradish with most of the townsmen. But long - before that, Squire Phin felt there was something more subtle than mere - condescension in Bradish’s attitude toward him’. There Was a sneer under - all, and there had been a sneer ever since the time when Palermo knew that - Judge Willard wanted King Bradish for his son-in-law. - </p> - <p> - As the lawyer toiled up his stairs he heard Bradish inquire sardonically: - </p> - <p> - “Well, Klebe, which licked?” - </p> - <p> - The Squire closed his door on the flood of profane threats that Willard - began to pour out, clutching the tire of Bradish’s wheel with one hand and - pounding emphasis with the other. - </p> - <p> - The lawyer’s hands were trembling a bit as he sat down in his arm-chair - and drew his tin tobacco-box toward him. He heard the voice of Bradish - outside, raised above the captain’s angry diapason: - </p> - <p> - “Do it? Why, of course I should do it; and you’d be backed up in it by all - of us.” - </p> - <p> - Squire Phin leaned on his table, and, narrowing his eyes in earnest - thought, stared up at a row of creosote stains on the cracked plastering - of his wall. Those stains for many years had occupied a peculiar place in - his thoughts. When he half shut his eyes and gazed on the wall without - studying detail, the stains took on the semblance of a row of men. He used - at first to imagine them a jury, and he rehearsed his cases before them. - It was profitable exercise. Every judge who came to hold court in that - county had grown to respect the ability of the earnest attorney whose law - was so flawless and whose cases were so thoroughly prepared. - </p> - <p> - And after the Squire began to study the conditions of the country and its - great social questions, he found recreation in applying to them the broad - principles of law and seeking for solution. His own modest orbit of - practice afforded him no mental stimulus such as he got from this - imaginary practice. - </p> - <p> - One day when there were no loafers in his office, he half-shamefacedly cut - the picture of the Chief Justice of the United States out of an - illustrated weekly and tacked it on the wall in the centre of the creosote - stains, and after that he argued “big cases.” - </p> - <p> - And in order to argue them he stinted himself in his modest personal wants - in order to buy reports and digests and commentaries and all kinds of fat - books in slippery buff calf; and he read those books until his eyes ached - and his head spun, and he trained his big guns of logic and appeal on - those creosote stains—and then sometimes wondered whimsically if - this were not a sign of incipient aberration. He worried a bit - occasionally until a certain grave judge whom he met at nisi prius term - confessed to him one day as they were strolling after supper that he, from - childhood, had entertained a gnawing hankering to be a locomotive - engineer, and even then at sixty-five liked to walk by himself along - country paths, chuffing softly between his teeth and keeping as sharp a - lookout as though he were in the cab of a limited express. - </p> - <p> - After that—the Judge being generally considered the most - matter-of-fact old hard-head on the State bench—Squire Phin - reflected that probably all men, if one but knew it, nurse little notions - of their own. - </p> - <p> - Therefore he kept on hammering the great trusts before that Creosote - Supreme Bench, cherished the diversion as his chief recreation—lived - in a dream world of amazing activity and usefulness. And in the meantime - he humbly and contentedly drew deeds, conveyances and wills, appraised - estates, presided sagely over “leave-it-out” questions of dispute, and - spent most of his time keeping would-be litigants in Palermo out of the - law. - </p> - <p> - The voices under his window kept on their monotonous rumble as he - meditated. There was the occasional spit of an oath from Willard, - following the irritating drawl of Bradish, who seemed to relish the - skipper’s rage. - </p> - <p> - “Your honours,” murmured Squire Phin, “I want to thank God in your - presence that I never yet ste-boyed a bulldog into a fight, rubbed a - tomcat’s ears, nor scuffed a rooster’s feathers and set him over into a - neighbour’s barnyard.” - </p> - <p> - He tossed his pipe into the tin box and went along and threw up the front - window as though he had arrived at his resolution. - </p> - <p> - “Bradish!” he called, and when the man poked his head around the side of - the Goddard and peered at the window, the Squire beckoned and went back to - his chair. - </p> - <p> - “I was intending to come up right away, Squire,” said the visitor, with an - irritating air of condescension, standing with one foot on a chair and - slapping his glove against his leg. His garments seemed peculiarly fresh - and smart in the dingy office, in contrast with the lawyer’s careless - attire. “But I got pretty much interested in hearing Klebe give personal - recollections of ‘When I was a circus animal for five minutes!’ It strikes - me that your brother——” - </p> - <p> - “I didn’t call you up here to talk about my brother,” broke in the lawyer, - brusquely. - </p> - <p> - “Sure enough,” replied Bradish, airily, “I’d be ashamed of him if I were - you. So, then, to business! Have you collected from Buffum and Crummett - and those others?” - </p> - <p> - “No,” said the lawyer, “and it isn’t about them I want to talk. I——” - </p> - <p> - “But I propose to talk about ’em,” snapped Brad-ish, interrupting - in turn. “Here I’ve put a lot of bills in your hands to collect—<i>collect!</i> - I want all that’s due me and I’ve got to have it. I’m in a hurry and I - told you so. This is the fourth time I’ve ordered you to put ’em to - the wall, and you haven’t done it.” - </p> - <p> - “Look here, Bradish,” said Squire Phin, standing up and planting his broad - hands on the table to prop himself, “I’ve collected your bills from all - except a half dozen men, and that half dozen intend to pay. But I’m not - the kind of a lawyer that will take a poor man by the heels and pound his - head on the ground to shake money out of his pockets. Those men have had - sickness and death and troubles in their families, and they simply can’t - pay. And you can’t buy law in my office with which to persecute honest - men, Bradish.” - </p> - <p> - “Give me the bills, then,” commanded the other, stretching out his hand - and clacking his middle finger smartly into the palm. “You aren’t the only - lawyer in this county.” - </p> - <p> - Squire Phin looked at him steadily for a time, then pulled down a letter - file and began to search it. When he had found the papers he held them and - gazed at his client, knotting his eyebrows. - </p> - <p> - “I didn’t call you up here to talk about your bills,” he said, “but now - that we are on the subject I’m going to ask you something, Bradish. Why is - it that, after I’ve collected and put in your hands almost ten thousand - dollars in the last few weeks—from men to whom you had promised - longer time—you are still driving me to take the very heart’s blood - out of these poor devils? Can’t you wait a few weeks?” - </p> - <p> - Bradish brought his foot to the floor. - </p> - <p> - “I suppose it’s a regular thing for a lawyer to ram his nose into a man’s - business and twist it clear to the bottom, hey?” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know as I ever asked another client such a question,” rejoined - the Squire, coldly, “because I don’t usually have a client who wants me to - go to a debtor with an auger and a blood-pump when the poor chap is down - and helpless.” - </p> - <p> - “Then I’ll tell you, Look,” said Bradish, leaning forward with mock - appearance of confiding the truth; “it’s none of your infernal business. - Give me those papers. I know of a man that can collect them.” - </p> - <p> - “And I know a man that will,” returned the Squire, “and collect them - without making women and children go hungry while their men folks are in - jail.” He sat down at the table, pulled a long wallet from his pocket and - began counting money from a thick packet of banknotes. “Receipt those - bills,” he said curtly. - </p> - <p> - Bradish hesitated a moment, his anger prompting him to refuse the money - from this source. But evidently his anxiety to secure his cash - overmastered the grudge. He scrawled his name across the papers and took - the banknotes. - </p> - <p> - “Circus money, eh?” he sneered, unable to resist the impulse to make the - fling. “I heard that Hiram has been squaring himself with you.” He began - counting the money. - </p> - <p> - “Now there’s no more business between us, Brad-ish,” said the lawyer as - his client buttoned his coat. - </p> - <p> - “I hope not,” retorted Bradish. - </p> - <p> - “Only this,” pursued the Squire; “I may guess what you’re collecting your - money for and shortening financial sail in town, and I may not. No matter! - But I want to tell you, King Bradish, that from this time out you are - going to leave Damaris Mayo to her husband.” Again he propped himself on - the table and leaned forward. - </p> - <p> - The charge came so unexpectedly that the man’s florid face grew pale and - then as suddenly flushed crimson, as he stammered oaths, seeking emphasis - for his denial. The Squire came around the table toward him and raised his - hand. - </p> - <p> - “Not a word—not a word more, Bradish,” he said, his composure - perfect. “I married that boy and girl, and you can’t ruin that little home - if I can prevent it—no, sir, you can’t!” - </p> - <p> - Bradish strode to the door, but he drove his fists down at his sides with - a gesture of impotent ire, whirled and came back close to the lawyer. - </p> - <p> - “Why don’t you own up what your grudge is against me?” he gritted. “Why - ain’t you man enough to fight fair and lay down when you’re licked? If - Syl-vena Willard had wanted you she would have married you, and because - she is going to marry me when—-when”—his eyes shifted uneasily - under the Squire’s stern gaze—“when she gets ready to, is no reason - why you should ghost me ’round town and make up stories to retail - to her. I suppose you’ll be reporting I’m planning to run away.” - </p> - <p> - “You stop right where you are, Bradish!” cried the lawyer. “Sylvena - Willard is too good a woman to have her name bandied here between us, or - dragged through a village scandal by your fault. Your affairs and hers are - between yourselves. You needn’t discuss them. But you shall not break up - young Mayo’s family, nor insult Sylvena Willard by your actions, and I say - this as a friend of both. Now, if you know where your head is level you - will get out of my office.” - </p> - <p> - The creases deepened about the Squire’s mouth. One fist was clenched at - his side. The other hand pointed to the door. - </p> - <p> - Bradish paused irresolutely, closing and unclosing his hands. But at that - moment the door opened and a woman came in. Bradish crowded past her and - went thumping down the stairs. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Micajah Dunham, bolt upright in the middle of the seat of a rattly - beach waggon and disdaining the support of the leather-covered back, even - when the ledges of the Cove road danced her most vigorously, had with a - directness typical of Mrs. Micajah Dunham driven straight to the gnawed - hitching post in front of Brickett’s store. Mrs. Dunham always appeared to - be a very rigid sort of person, but on this occasion there was extra - rigidity about her, from the set of her jaw to the stiffness of her knee - action, as she stepped down from the waggon. Looking neither right nor - left, she ran the halter rope through the gnawed hitching post and walked - up the outside stairs exactly in the middle, hands at her sides and - neglecting the rain-bleached rail as she had disdained the seat-back. A - bonnet trimmed with dust-spotted imitations of grapes framed her narrow - face squarely, and a shawl appeared to pinch her shoulders together. - </p> - <p> - She sat down in the “blind-stagger” chair well to the edge, on account of - the dust, at which her housewife’s eye glared in disfavour. - </p> - <p> - “Squire,” she said, with a directness of attack that took no account of - his averted face, “I’ve come to consult you legally, and I’ve brought the - dockyments.” She jerked herself up, crossed the room, and laid on his open - book a sheet of rudely scalloped pink paper, on which were pasted hearts - cut out of red and blue tissue. - </p> - <p> - “That’s almost the first to which I really was knowin’ the straight - facts,” she went on. “But I’ve had a glimmer of an idea for some time. Oh, - I tell you it ain’t come all to once, this thing ain’t!” The lawyer turned - slowly, picked up the paper, holding it gingerly by the corner. - </p> - <p> - “Sit down, Esther,” he said quietly, “and we’ll see what we can make out - of it.” - </p> - <p> - There were some lines of writing on the paper, and he read them aloud in - dry, legal monotone, the woman greeting the sentiments with scornful - sniffs: - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - “For those that love the world is bright; - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - And when it’s bright it is a sign - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - That some one’s eyes do shed the light; - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Oh, darling, be my Valentine!” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p> - He paused and cocked his eyebrows at her inquiringly. - </p> - <p> - “I caught Mr. Dunham writin’ that tormented sculch out of a book at the - sekert’ry in the best room one day the first of this month,” she said. - “And I took it away from him. And I know that he jest went to work and - made another, ’cause he said he was goin’ to. He’s been dead set - and possessed by the Old Harry for months, Squire, till I’m plumb out with - him. I can’t, won’t and shan’t stand it no longer. Here’s items, if you - need ’em.” - </p> - <p> - She unfolded a long roll composed of many sheets of notepaper pasted - together, and he read in the same calm voice her pencilled entries: - </p> - <p> - “July 15.—He helped her and her scholars to pick white weeds to trim - up the schoolhouse. - </p> - <p> - “July 19.—Took our ladder and clime trees for leaves, ditto. - </p> - <p> - “July 22.—Took broken candy to door and give it to her. - </p> - <p> - “August 2.—Hitched and took her to her boarding place when it - rained. - </p> - <p> - “August 5.—More broken candy. - </p> - <p> - “August 7.—Hitched before school and went after her. - </p> - <p> - “August 10.—Dressed up and visited school.” - </p> - <p> - The lawyer ran his eye over the other entries, noting a general similarity - in all. Then he read aloud: - </p> - <p> - “August 10.—Suspect he is making a valentine. - </p> - <p> - “August 12.—Caught him at it and took the valentine.” - </p> - <p> - “And this is it, eh?” he inquired, tapping the gaudily decorated sheet on - the table. “But this is hardly the season for valentines.” - </p> - <p> - “And this ain’t the season for a man that’s goin’ on fifty-two to fall in - love with an eighteen-year-old girl, either,” she retorted. “But he’s done - it. And ’sides all I’ve put down, it has been a continual peddlin’ - out to her of candy and apples and fol-de-rols. You understand that by - twistin’ a little I can see that schoolhouse door right from my but’ry - winder, and there it is in that paper, chalked up to date.” - </p> - <p> - For the first time since she had entered the room his eyes softened a bit. - He shook the paper at her gently. - </p> - <p> - “I understand, do I,” he inquired, his mild tones contrasting soothingly - with her high-pitched anger, “that this record of devotion to a certain - school-house door means that ’Caje is——” - </p> - <p> - “It means,” she shrilled, “that that miserable, old, soft-headed fool of a - husband of mine has gone to work and fell in love with that young - teeter-bird of a schoolmarm in our deestrick, and has acted out till I’m - distracted. I can’t do nothin’ with him, Squire. He jest grunts and growls - and clears out of the house when I go at him. Now it’s come to the end of - the jig. Understand? It’s the wind-up. - </p> - <p> - “There’s the dockyments. I want to warn you right at the outset that you - ain’t goin’ to come none of your gum-games on me, the way they tell of you - actin’ with some of them that come to you for law. My mind is as set as - old Pisgy itself.” She brought her work-stained hand down on the chair - rail with a vehemence that made it creak. - </p> - <p> - “I’m not going to have any fight with you, Esther,” he replied, smiling - into her hostile eyes. “But you do surprise me about ’Caje. I - thought he was as steady-going as a stone boat.” - </p> - <p> - She nipped her lips spitefully. - </p> - <p> - “Always a hardworking man, ’Caje has been,” the lawyer went on; - “has stuck to his work a little speck too close, maybe.” - </p> - <p> - “Look here, Squire Phineas Look,” she broke in, “this ain’t gittin’ on - about that <i>di</i>-vose. You needn’t try to beat about the bush.” - </p> - <p> - “Let’s see!” he mused. “Poor, crazy Ben Haskell’s girl, ’Liza, is - teaching in the Dunham district, I believe. And Ben in the asylum these - five years! Is she as pretty as her mother was before her?” - </p> - <p> - “High-headed snippet,” sniffed Mrs. Dunham. “But I’ll show her!” - </p> - <p> - The Squire set his arms on the table, his elbows squared, and a quizzical - smile in the wrinkles about his eyes. - </p> - <p> - “’Caje Dunham is a good neighbour, is honest and pays his bills, - Esther,” he said, “but do you think for one moment that pretty ’Liza - Haskell wants that old, callous-fisted, round-shouldered husband of yours - hanging around her?” - </p> - <p> - The woman’s eyes narrowed, and she glared at him with malice in her gaze. - </p> - <p> - “A school agent in a district has to putter around the school house more - or less,” he went on. “If he has been too neighbourly I’ll talk with him - about it. But you’re not going to drag an innocent girl through any - scandal, Esther, just to satisfy some grudge that you’ve hatched up in - your own mind.” - </p> - <p> - “So she has run to you with her budget, has she?” demanded the woman, her - expression still more malevolent. - </p> - <p> - “No, I haven’t seen ’Lize Haskell for months,” said the Squire with - candour. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, <i>she</i> ain’t the one I mean,” Mrs. Dunham snapped. “I mean the - pompous Queen o’ Sheby that was sittin’ in that school house yistiddy when - I called there to give the little fool her come-uppance right before her - scholars.” - </p> - <p> - She nipped her lips and looked at him so spitefully and meaningly that a - flush crept up from under his collar. - </p> - <p> - He knew that the motherless girl had become a protégé of Sylvena Willard’s - at the time that Ben Haskell had been taken to the madhouse. - </p> - <p> - “No wonder you’re ’shamed,” the woman went on angrily. “You all of - you are in the plot ag’inst me. I give her her earful, all right, Willard - so high and mighty, or no Willard. That teacher and her, the both of ’em, - got it straight from <i>me</i>.” - </p> - <p> - “Do you mean to say that you went to the school house and abused that girl - before Sylvena Willard?” demanded the Squire, standing up and glowering - down on her. - </p> - <p> - But her spirit was equal to his, for her anger was bitterer. - </p> - <p> - “If any woman gits in my way when I’m doin’ my bounden duty by myself,” - she retorted, “she gits what’s comin’ to her. Says I to that snifflin’ - school-marm, ‘There’s no man what’s draggin’ at a woman’s gown-tail unless - he gits encouragement.’ And I says to Miss Queen Sheby of the Willards, - ‘You can take that to yourself, you that’s tryin’ to shet me up. King - Bradish and Squire Phin Look wouldn’t both be——” - </p> - <p> - “Esther Dunham,” he shouted, “not another word. Not one word!” - </p> - <p> - It was the awful anger of a patient man thoroughly aroused that fronted - her. - </p> - <p> - “I have a right to speak my own mind, and I pretty gen’rally do it,” she - muttered, but she did not venture to say any more. - </p> - <p> - He slowly sank back into his armchair, still glaring at her. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, the devilish weapon that a woman feels privileged to use,” he cried. - After a time he went on sternly: - </p> - <p> - “Esther, I knew you at school, and I’ve watched you more or less since. - You were kind of a cute little girl, with your way of spitting out just - what you thought about folks and things. But we’d laugh at kittens when - we’d cuff an old cat’s ears for doing the same thing. You’ve nagged and - browbeaten your husband all your life together, and you know it!” - </p> - <p> - “Gimme them dockyments,” she rasped, popping up with a snap like a - carpenter’s rule. The lawyer put his broad hand on them. - </p> - <p> - “’Caje Dunham was the kind of man that you could have driven with a - cotton thread of love and teamed him anywhere. But you’ve used goad - sticks, and hot pitch and a twist bit, and it isn’t any wonder you’ve made - him balky.” - </p> - <p> - “So you’re stickin’ up for that missable critter right before my face and - eyes,” she cried. “I might ’a’ knowed better than to come here and - expect a dried-up old bach to admit anything about the rights of a woman. - You give me them papers, Squire Phin Look! I know where I can buy law, - even if it isn’t for sale in this shop.” - </p> - <p> - He calmly held the papers away from her clutching fingers. - </p> - <p> - “How much have you and ’Caje put away between you?” he inquired. - </p> - <p> - And when she did not reply, puckering her eyes and resenting his intrusive - question, he suggested, more gently, “In case of alimony, you know!” - </p> - <p> - “If that’s what you’re askin’ for, I don’t know as there’s any hurt in - tellin’ you we’ve got risin’ ’leven thousand, put where it’s - earnin’ int’rest and twenty-five hundred out on first mo’gidges.” - </p> - <p> - “And not a chick nor a child to leave it to,” he murmured, looking at her - with sudden sympathy in his eyes. “It’s too bad, Esther, that your little - ’Cilia was called away to her treasures in Heaven before she could - enjoy some of the treasures you heaped up on earth for her—you two, - poor, tug-a-lugging old critters, you!” She sat down suddenly, and her - work-stained, knotted hands trembled as she folded them on her lap. - </p> - <p> - “Saving and skinching and piling up,” he went on. “What good has it ever - done you, Esther? Why didn’t you and ’Caje knock off and have a - little fun together in the world before you got hardened this way? And for - poor ’Cilia it was always ‘Sometime!’ till she got to be sixteen - years old, and then she went on the first journey of her life—to the - grave! And the only good dress she ever wore was the one you laid her out - in! Do you know what animals grub and grub with their noses rooting soil?” - He shouted the question at her. - </p> - <p> - She came back at him with equal fire. “When I want a sermon I’ll go to the - parson! ’Tain’t any disgrace to be prudent and forehanded, is it, - even if we ain’t got no one to enjoy it after we’re gone?” - </p> - <p> - Her voice broke suddenly. The tears flooded into her cold eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Squire,” she quavered, “’twould have been different with ’Caje - and me if only ’Cilla’d been left to us. Hain’t neither of us - knowed what to do with ourselves since we laid her away in the graveyard.” - </p> - <p> - He walked around the table and patted the shoulder bowed under the faded - shawl. - </p> - <p> - “And as little as you’ve got left in the world now, Esther, here you are - wanting to get rid of the biggest hunk of it. Can’t you realise that you - don’t understand this thing yet? Your husband don’t know what the trouble - is with him. Now let me tear up this list of ’Caje’s temporary - aberrations. I’ll have a talk with him, and we’ll see—we’ll see!” - </p> - <p> - But with an angry red in her cheeks that seemed to scorch the tears there - she jerked her shoulder away from his patting hand. - </p> - <p> - “Squire Phin, you’ve known me from a little snippet, and you know I ain’t - flyin’ off to no tangents without good reason. It ain’t no one night’s - growth, this ain’t. I’m going to have a bill from that man, I say! The - neighbours ain’t goin’ to have a chance to say <i>I’ve</i> backed down. If - you don’t want to take the case, then out with it, bus’nesslike, and I’ll - go farther. But that <i>di</i>-vose I’m goin’ to have!” - </p> - <p> - There was no gainsaying her angry obstinacy. - </p> - <p> - “Well, Esther,” he said with a sigh, “leave the papers and I’ll have - notice of the libel served.” - </p> - <p> - “When? There can’t be no more fubbin’. The neighbours are all stirred up, - and I’ve made my talk!” - </p> - <p> - “To-morrow.” - </p> - <p> - “So do! And I’ll plan according,” she snapped, and with lips set tight she - left the room. - </p> - <p> - The Squire slowly filled his pipe, his eyes fixed in unblinking stare on a - far corner. - </p> - <p> - “Neighbours!” he snorted. “Poor little gaffer of a girl, and the whole of - ’em pecking at her!” - </p> - <p> - He aimlessly searched for a match in his pockets, his eyes still on the - corner. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Sylvie,” he murmured, “they are just ready to bury their beaks in you - if you step between—oh-h-h!” - </p> - <p> - In sudden impotent choler he snapped the stem of the unlighted pipe, threw - the pieces into the corner and went out, shutting his office door behind - him with a vehemence that made the building shiver. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VII—THE BUSINESS OF HUMAN HEARTS - </h2> - <h3> - THAT CALLED SQUIRE PHIN TO THE COVE ROAD - </h3> - <p class="indent15"> - Uncle Elnathan Shaw one day - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Started down cellar, usual way, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Plannin’ in usual way to draw - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Cider enough for ’foresaid Shaw; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - But he happened to slip on the upper stair, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Whirled round and grabbed at the empty air, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And clear to the foot of them stairs, ker-smack, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - He bumped on the bulge of his humped old back; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And his wife yelled down, as mad’s a bug: - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - “Ding-rat your pelt, did you break my jug?’ - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>icajah Dunham was - pulling “six-weeks” beans in his lower lot the next afternoon when he saw - two men coming across the field toward him. With hand at his forehead he - soon recognised them—Squire Look’s sturdy figure, and behind him the - equally well-known waddling bulk of “Sawed-off” Purday, Palermo’s local - deputy sheriff. - </p> - <p> - “Hen’, just hand ’Caje that paper,” directed the Squire after the - greetings. “Then, if you’ve a mind to, go back to the team and wait while - I have a word here.” - </p> - <p> - The farmer’s face paled as he took the paper, first dragging his - earth-soiled hands across his trousers’ legs. He realised it must be a - legal document, and it frightened him. - </p> - <p> - “It isn’t often that the lawyer himself comes along with his paper,” - commented Squire Phin, “but I felt that this might need a little - elucidation—and something else, perhaps.” The farmer blinked, - holding the writing aslant. The sheet crackled and fluttered in his - trembling hands. - </p> - <p> - “I ain’t got my specs, Squire,” he said with agitation. “But I don’t owe - no money nor nothin’ to be sued for. What is it?” - </p> - <p> - “Esther has sued you for a bill of divorce,” the lawyer explained bluntly. - “Charge, cruel and abusive treatment. From what she tells me you are - knowing to the whys and wherefores.” - </p> - <p> - Dunham stumbled to a tussock and sat down. “Di-vose! Di-vose!” he - stammered. “Esther sue me? I don’t believe it. It is some kind of a lawyer - trick. Lawyers is alwa’s stirrin’ trouble, but I didn’t reckon you was one - of that kind, Squire Look.” - </p> - <p> - “Look here, ’Caje,” the lawyer’s voice was bluff and businesslike; - “it’s better for me to handle this matter than to have it left to that - young whippet over to the Corner, who’d have your heart out if he could - pile up costs that way. Now, what do you mean by volunteering in the cause - of education?” he inquired, jerking his thumb at the school house, whose - roof was visible above the rise of ground. - </p> - <p> - Micajah lowered his eyes under the keen look, visibly discomposed. - </p> - <p> - “Still she’s a-dingin’ away at that, hey?” he growled. “If you was a - school agent in a deestrick, Squire, and there was a poor, lonesome little - wusser’n-orphan critter of a schoolmarm teachin’ the school, wouldn’t you - sort of show her a few attentions so’s to keep her in the deestrick, - seein’ that the children all love her? I’ve tried to explain to Esther, - Squire, that it’s all in the way of school gov’ummunt, as you might say, - but you know what a woman is!” - </p> - <p> - “I’m afraid I don’t understand quite as well as I’d like to,” admitted the - lawyer sadly, “but as for you, I reckon you don’t know ’em at all, - ’Caje. And you don’t know even your own self, you old numbhead. - You’re sitting meeching there on that tussock, and you don’t know your - heart well enough to understand whether you ought to be ashamed of your - attentions to the schoolma’am or to be proud of them, as showing that you - still have human feelings left. And the result of it all is that you’ve - blundered ’round till you’ve made your wife jealous, instead of - putting tenderness and generosity and mother-feeling into her heart. You - blind old mole, you simply don’t know—-don’t know! Here! You come - along after me with that paper in your hand!” - </p> - <p> - He led the way across the field, up the apple-tree bordered lane and into - the house. There was no one in the kitchen or in the little sitting-room, - where Esther Dunham always sat at her sewing o’ afternoons, the sun - filtering on her through the leaves of the window plant? No one in the - house! They searched and called, and only the clock’s tick-tack answered - in the silences. - </p> - <p> - Everything was tidied. The table had been reset after the noon meal, and - its well scoured ware glinted cheerfully. Micajah grabbed the lawyer’s - arm. - </p> - <p> - “She’s took her napkin ring!” he gasped. “She’s gone, Squire!” - </p> - <p> - The husband hurried into the west bedroom and fumbled in the closet. “And - her clothes is gone, Squire!” he called dismally. “Oh, my Gawd, if this - ain’t trouble come double then I don’t know what ’tis.” He sat down - on the edge of the bed and seemed about to weep. - </p> - <p> - “Get up there, you old fool!” Look roared. “I’ve about concluded that the - two of you need guardians or—or keepers.” He stood before Micajah - with his arms akimbo. “Eleven thousand at interest and twenty-five hundred - on first mortgages!” he sneered. “And while you’ve been pawing that out of - the muck, you and your wife, you have never stood up straight, taken full, - free breath of air and God’s sunshine and looked into each other’s eyes - like true man and wife. And she doesn’t know you and you don’t know her, - and you don’t know your own selves. Oh, ’Caje Dunham, I’m ashamed - of you!” - </p> - <p> - The man stared at him stupidly. - </p> - <p> - “You don’t know yet what I mean, do you?” the lawyer went on. “You’re - waiting for me, an old bach, to explain to you your mistakes and point out - your duty.” - </p> - <p> - A youngster came slapping his bare feet along the shed walk. - </p> - <p> - “Squire Look,” he called, “Mis’ Dunham is over to my marm’s, and she just - see you come in here, and sent word if you got any business with her you - can call over there.” He added, triumphantly, “She’s brung her clothes to - our house, too, and she’s goin’ to be our boarder.” He had edged into the - bedroom, and his round eyes, big with the half-knowledge and guesses of - childhood, goggled at the woe-stricken husband. - </p> - <p> - The lawyer meditatively stroked his nose a moment and then turning without - a word walked out of the house. The boy pattered on ahead. Dunham picked - up the writ and followed dejectedly. - </p> - <p> - “Be you goin’ to stay to the big meetin’ to-night, Squire Look?” inquired - the boy, bursting with his fresh knowledge. “Mis’ Dunham and my marm and - my pa and Mister Bolster are goin’ to have all the people meet at the - school house and discharge teacher.” He turned his urchin’s stare of - inquisitive significance on Dunham, stubbing along behind in the highway. - “Mis’ Dunham come into school this afternoon and told teacher, and teacher - didn’t go home after school, but I peeked in the winder, and she’s there - cryin’ and——” - </p> - <p> - “Bub,” said the Squire severely, “you’re anxious to grow up to be a nice - big man, aren’t you?” - </p> - <p> - “Yep.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, there’s nothing that stunts growth like using your tongue too much. - That’s why so many women are shorter and slimmer than men. Now always - remember that all your life, and some day when you’ve grown up good and - tall you just tell your little boys that a nice old lawyer gave you that - advice about your tongue and never charged you a cent for it.” - </p> - <p> - The boy stared up and down the big man, slowly slooped up the moisture of - his open mouth, and closed his lips apprehensively. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Dunham was on the front porch of the neighbour’s house, defiantly - awaiting their approach. - </p> - <p> - “Has that paper been served?” she demanded, when they were still some - distance down the path. - </p> - <p> - The abandoned husband held up the fateful document, and was about to break - into appealing speech, but she stamped her foot and checked him. - </p> - <p> - “Not a word—not a word from you!” she screamed fiercely. “It’s all - over and done and the passel tied and the string cut between us. I’m here - to stay till I git my bill and allowance by the court. I shall watch that - house till I git my own out of it. Then you can go to pot and see the - kittle bile, for all I care. Ain’t you ashamed to face me with the stigmy - of that law paper on you?” She pointed at him as at something proscribed. - Her hosts were at the window, listening with manifest enjoyment. The - situation maddened Dunham. - </p> - <p> - “Talk to her, Squire! For pity sakes, talk to her,” he entreated, tears - running down his sallow cheeks. “When she has twitted me before this I - ain’t talked right to her, and I realise it all now. I’m awful sorry—I’m - turrible, awful, desp’rit’ sorry I ever talked uppish to you, Esther,” he - wailed. “I ain’t fell in love with any one else. I vow I ain’t. It’s - diff’rent than that. I ain’t skercely realised how it was— but I - reckon I know now. I’ve been thinkin’. I was jest—I was jest——” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, you was jest Mr. Pompous-on-Parade, all so fine and gay,” she - sneered, “and now you think that one drop of goose grease is goin’ to cure - all the smart and hurt. But I tell you now, as I’ve already told Squire - Look, once my mind is made up it is set as the eternal hills. Now, can you - get that through your wool?” she stormed, her eyes blazing. - </p> - <p> - “I know your disposition is inclined that way, Esther,” he faltered, - lifting his eyes to her piteously. - </p> - <p> - “And you say there ain’t no way—no chance——” - </p> - <p> - “No, sir!” she spat. - </p> - <p> - He pondered awhile, his slow, farmer comprehension of the situation - dropping back into the material rut, in which his life had flowed like - muddy water. “Which of the milk pans is to be skimmed to-night, Esther?” - </p> - <p> - “I marked them for you,” she replied stiffly. “And the cooked stuff is on - the swing shelf in the suller-way. Doughnuts and cookies in the stun’ jar - ’side of the flour barrel in the but’ry.” - </p> - <p> - The lawyer had been scowling at the peering heads in the window. “Esther,” - he broke in, “I want you and ’Caje both to come over to your house - and sit down. I’ll venture to say that we can get at a more sensible - arrangement than all this amounts to.” - </p> - <p> - “You’re up to your old tricks again, Squire!” she cried sarcastically. - “There are some folks that you can wind ’round your little finger, - and some you can’t, and I’m”—she patted her flat breast—“one - with too stiff a backbone to be wound.” She whirled on her heel and went - into the house, slamming the door spitefully. - </p> - <p> - The Squire gazed at the farmer with a flicker of sympathy in his eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Go home and do your chores, ’Caje,” he commanded gruffly, “and be - at the school house this evening.” - </p> - <p> - At that moment the master of the house issued from a side door with his - milk pails on his arm, and started for the barn, wearing a fine assumption - of innocent obliviousness. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I. say, Uncle Paul,” called the lawyer, “what is the hour set for the - lynching this evening?” - </p> - <p> - “Lynchin’!” repeated the astonished man. - </p> - <p> - “Well, perhaps I don’t pick exactly the right word—-inquisition - might hit it nearer. At the school house, I mean!” - </p> - <p> - “If that’s lawyers’ lingo for our deestrick meetin’,” replied the - indignant farmer, “it’s set for ha’f-past seven.” - </p> - <p> - “You can drive back to the village,” directed the Squire as he passed - Purday. The deputy had been comfortably lolling on the waggon seat, his - legs hooked over the dashboard. “I’ll come along when I get ready. I ain’t - afraid to foot it.” - </p> - <p> - The mellowness of the waning afternoon was chilled a bit by the first - breeze of autumn that crept over the ledges of Nubble Hill. - </p> - <p> - Squire Phin turned up his collar, clasped his hands behind his back, and - started down the road toward the school house. The old dog Eli, who had - been routed from under the waggon seat by the deputy, scuffed along the - gutter through the dry grasses. - </p> - <p> - “If there’s anything lonesomer, Eli, than outdoors at this time of year,” - mused the lawyer, “it’s the empty chamber in some of the human hearts that - we know about.” - </p> - <p> - All the eyes of the little neighbourhood were watching the Squire when he - turned in at the yard of the school house and disappeared in the - entry-way. - </p> - <p> - But it was chore time and supper time, and the Dunham district people went - about their tasks, mumbling surmise as to what the Squire intended to do. - Mrs. Micajah Dunham remained at Uncle Paul Appleby’s gate, her gimlet gaze - still on the school house. There was nothing to see, but she didn’t have - anything else to do. For the first time since she could remember she - wasn’t busy with supper-getting at that hour of the day, and she was - conscious of something lacking, something discomforting. Her hands - twitched when she heard the rattle of dishes within doors. She looked - across at the old home. There was no trail of smoke from the chimney. - </p> - <p> - “Cold vittles is good enough for him,” she reflected bitterly. “I wisht - he’d choke on what I’ve left cooked up.” - </p> - <p> - Her hard gaze did not soften when she saw her husband come out of the - cellar door, shoulders humped, dragging his feet spiritlessly, the milk - pails dangling from his lifeless arms. A gray cat was at his heels. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t want Betsy to starve along with him,” grumbled Esther, and she - called stridently, “Kit-te-e-e! Kit-te-e-e! Come, kit-te-e-e!” - </p> - <p> - With a feline’s deference to one who has always filled the saucer for her - the cat turned and scampered over to the Appleby house, tail up. - </p> - <p> - “He ain’t even fit to associate with the cat!” snapped Mrs. Dunham, and - she picked up the purring creature and switched into the house. But that - uncomfortable hankering for occupation, that queer little feeling of being - a fifth wheel, obsessed her. - </p> - <p> - “I’m goin’ to slip on one of your aprons, Mis’ Appleby,” she announced, - “and help you to get supper on.” - </p> - <p> - “Now you jest set right down and fold your hands, Mis’ Dunham,” - remonstrated the hostess. “I don’t expect boarders to do one namable - thing. No,” she said hastily, stripping the apron from Esther before she - could tie it, “I’ve sort of got my own ways ’round the house jest - the same’s you have around yours, and there ain’t a thing you can do to - help. You go right into the settin’-room and look over the album, or - anything you’re a mind to.” - </p> - <p> - Esther wandered into the other room. She reflected that she had always - said the same things to “company” that tried to mess in. But the smug - faces of the Applebys, enshrined between the plush covers of the album, - palled on her. Nothing to do! She peered through the interlacing leaves of - Mrs. Appleby’s geranium and a sob shook her. She was homesick, and she - knew it. Her hostess, stirring briskly about her kitchen, made her long - for her own domain of kitchen floor, even as a disgraced skipper hungers - for his own quarter-deck. A boarder! A thing without authority, without - aim or purpose! The clang of the oven door reminded her that Mrs. Appleby - didn’t make cream of tartar biscuit exactly after her own receipt. How she - would like to be back in front of her own oven door pulling out a tinful - of those odorous, hot, crisply browned biscuit! But the reflection that - Micajah would eat them made her snap her jaws together and wink the tears - back from her eyes. - </p> - <p> - Yet she went out to the gate once more and watched to see if there was now - any trail of smoke from the kitchen chimney. Then she stared at the school - house, and her features hardened. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, I don’t understand it!” she murmured. “It ain’t been like ’Caje - at all to do it! I can’t understand it!” - </p> - <p> - She could control herself no longer. Despite the fact that she had - stubbornly forced the issue herself, nagged on by the neighbours who had - counselled her to stand up for her rights, she felt abandoned by the - world. Her face puckered with the unsightly grimace of those who do not - often weep, and the hot tears bubbled freely. - </p> - <p> - “You don’t appear to be enjoying very high spirits, Mrs. Dunham.” She - raised her head from the fence post with a jerk, for the drawling voice - startled her. King Bradish’s rubber-tired carriage had made no sound on - the dusty road. He had swung in upon the grass and sat looking at her, his - elbows on his knees. - </p> - <p> - “It ain’t any one’s business how I feel,” she retorted indignantly, - ashamed at having been detected. - </p> - <p> - “I heard down to the village that you and the old man had agreed to - disagree,” he pursued, with that calm impertinence that Palermo called - “the Bradish cheek.” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t thank anybody to go peddlin’ my bus’ness ’round.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, you’d have to put Sawed-off Purday under bonds to keep his mouth - shut if you don’t want legal business strung from Clew to Erie in this - town. But what I can’t understand is, why you didn’t get a lawyer that - would really put your case through. Phin Look never will. And he don’t - intend to, because he told Purday as much.” - </p> - <p> - There was malice in the glint of his eye. - </p> - <p> - She clutched at the palings and projected her face at him over them. - </p> - <p> - “You needn’t make up any such faces at me,” he said coolly. “It’s none of - my business, especially, but I hate to see a man that poses as a lawyer go - around fooling his clients.” - </p> - <p> - “Look here, King Bradish,” she cried, “I don’t know what Hen’ Purday is - saying and I don’t care. But I do know that Squire Phin Look was here this - very afternoon, and the libel was served on Mr. Dunham, and the Squire is - down there in the school house this very minute talkin’——” In - spite of herself her voice wavered, for she had been wondering with angry - astonishment why her lawyer should go into so long a conference with the - other side. - </p> - <p> - Bradish slowly stretched up his arms and yawned. “Yes?” he drawled. “Down - there with the school-marm, hey? Probably he’s telling her how the paper - that was served on your husband to-day was only a dog-license blank, and - they’re having a laugh, and he’s explaining how he will fix the thing up - and fool you.” - </p> - <p> - She slammed open the gate and started down the road. - </p> - <p> - “Jump in!” he invited. “You seem to be in a hurry, and I don’t blame you a - bit.” - </p> - <p> - A few moments later he snapped his hitch-weight into his horse’s bridle - and followed the angry woman into the dusty entry-way of the little school - house. - </p> - <p> - Esther tore at the knob of the inner door and threw it open. - </p> - <p> - Squire Phin sat in the little teacher’s chair. The little teacher was - huddled on the floor at his feet, her head on his knee. He was stroking a - shoulder that was quivering with sobs. - </p> - <p> - At the woman’s first explosion the lawyer arose and put his arm around the - teacher and led her toward the door. - </p> - <p> - “I will talk with you when you are in your right mind, Esther,” he said. - “But this poor child has suffered enough from your tongue. Isn’t there one - streak of womanhood left in you?” He put out his arm and gently pushed her - from their path, leading the schoolma’am toward the door. - </p> - <p> - “A pretty spectacle of a man you are, Bradish,” he gritted. “You’re - trampling on a poor girl to strike a coward’s blow at me.” - </p> - <p> - His face was gray with passion and his brows knotted above flaming eyes. - He shouldered against the other and crowded him back into the entry-way - and to one side. Bradish had his whip. - </p> - <p> - “If it wasn’t for the presence of the ladies here, Look,” he cried, “I’d - lace you till you howled.” - </p> - <p> - “Bradish,” replied the Squire, “you’re hiding behind women now, like the - cur that you are, and you have been hiding behind a woman for a good many - years. Some day—but I’m a fool to stoop to your level. Come, child.” - </p> - <p> - He strode away across the yard, the little teacher in the hook of his arm. - </p> - <p> - “I guess you might as well take back your husband, Mrs. Dunham,” he heard - Bradish cry after him. “Your lawyer seems to have cut him out.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VIII—SQUIRE PHIN ACTS AS PEACEMAKER - </h2> - <p class="indent15"> - I’m tellin’ ye what Eph Landers did - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - The time that he went and lost his fid. - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - He was yankin’ boulders a week ago— - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Tumble feller to hump and go! - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - He strung his chain round a rousin’ rock - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And found that he’d lost the little block - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - To catch the link; it’s used instid - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Of a hook and link and it’s called a fid. - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And the crack-brained critter—what do you think? - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Why, he stuck his thumb in the unhooked link! - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he school house - was more than filled that evening. - </p> - <p> - People came straggling up across the fields by short cuts, following - lanterns that winked between the striding legs of the bearers. The nearer - neighbours scuffled slowly along the road, bringing lamps and shielding - the blaze with curved palms as they walked. The lanterns were hung on the - nails about the cracked walls, part of whose unsightliness the little - teacher had covered with the evergreen wreaths that she had plaited. The - lamps were placed on the knife-whittled desks. - </p> - <p> - The grown-ups painfully bent their knees under these narrow confines, some - of them acting as though they were astonished that they were so much - larger than they were in the old school days. Most of them hadn’t been in - the school house since they had gone out with their tattered books in a - strap so many years before. - </p> - <p> - “It makes ye feel nearer the grave, don’t it?” whispered Salome Burpee to - her seat mate of the old days, who had by almost unconscious choice sought - the well-remembered desk. - </p> - <p> - The seat mate, a tall, scrawny woman, was obliged to sit sidewise, for she - couldn’t get her knees under the desk. - </p> - <p> - “My, yes!” she replied rather mournfully. “It don’t seem hardly a day ago - that I could sit here and swing my feet.” - </p> - <p> - “That’s my initial,” mumbled Deacon Burgess to Uncle Paul Appleby, - fingering a deep nick in the edge of the desk. “They was new then, and I - got walloped for cutting it.” - </p> - <p> - The men had gravitated to one side of the room, the women to the other. - All whispered decorously if they had occasion to address one another, for - in rural communities the usual gatherings are prayer meetings, and habit - is strong. - </p> - <p> - They discussed the report that the Squire had gone to the teacher’s - boarding place with her, and would be present at the meeting that evening, - and that he had talked “real saucy” to Mrs. Dunham, and that, too, after - she had hired him for her lawyer. - </p> - <p> - Esther sat grimly at the far side of the room in the girls’ reservation, - and Micajah was hunched into a seat on the other side, his eyes staring - straight before him. Neither exchanged a word with any other person in the - room. - </p> - <p> - “I heard it hinted,” whispered the scrawny woman, “that Sylvene Willard is - going to stick her nose into this thing. She has allus made more or less - of ’Lize Haskell, and ’Lize has been one of her ‘Grit and - Grace Girls,’ as she calls ’em.” The woman’s tone was scornful. - “You can let Sylvene Willard alone to put more tomfool notions into a - girl’s head in a minit than practical common-sense will weed out in a - year. She’s got them girls meetin’ to her house Saturdays and readin’ a - lot of ratted stuff out loud and writin’ papers and foolin’ with a lot of - lit’ry sculch. I wouldn’t let my Minnie join in with ’em. I told - her that there was too much readin’ and writin’ of tomrot in the world - now, and if she wanted to read she could stay to home and read cook-book - receets. It may not be quite so new-fangled and fash’nable as it is to - read about furrin’ countries”—the woman’s lips curled and her - nostrils spread—“but it is a blamed sight more to the point if a - woman’s goin’ to amount to anything in this world and has got a husband - and fam’ly—as she ought to have.” - </p> - <p> - “Sylvene Willard better ’a’ taken one of her chances,” agreed - Salome Burpee. “She can talk about loyalty to her parent and all sech till - the cows come home. But the trouble was she was tormented afraid that the - Judge might shine up to Number Two. I tell ye, them Willards is shysters - after the dollars!” - </p> - <p> - “She might have gone furder and fared wuss than o ’a’ married King - Bradish,” said the tall woman. “But you’ll find that she has liked to have - the two of ’em taggin’ at her gown-tail. You can’t blame ‘Lize - Haskell for thinkin’ it’s all right to be flirty.” Salome turned a - cautious gaze to the stolid, hard face of Esther. Then she looked across - to Micajah. - </p> - <p> - “My land o’ Goshen,” she murmured, “it don’t seem as though that young gal - would need to mess into a fam’ly like that. I’ve thought right along that - there ain’t anything to it except that Esther is so set and determined to - make it out that way.” - </p> - <p> - “I tell ye she’s a designin’ little critter,” retorted the tall woman. - “And I want to see her boosted out of her job. If Sylvene Willard wants to - stick and primp girls up and git ’em to readin’ furrin’ his’try and - a lot of sculch, and gittin’ ’em all set up when their father’s - nothin’ but a crazy pauper, so that they’re so nippy they have to talk - polite lingo all the time, ‘yes, marm, yes, sir, our black cat!’ then I - say let her take care of ’em. I want my Minnie to see that airs go - before a fall!” - </p> - <p> - A grating of wheels on the grit outside checked the whispers. - </p> - <p> - Sylvena Willard came in, her cheeks flushed by her ride through the crisp - air. The assembled inquisitors of the Dunham district instinctively knew - that she was there as the teacher’s defender, and they surveyed her with - disapprobation. - </p> - <p> - But she nodded cheery little greetings here and there and sat down on one - of the front seats with great composure. - </p> - <p> - “Holds her age tumble well, don’t she?” mumbled Deacon Burgess, surveying - the profile above the fluffy collar of her jacket. - </p> - <p> - But Uncle Paul gazed at her grudgingly. “It ain’t the real Christians that - go to Heaven on flow’ry beds of ease,” he grunted. “She’s had a pretty - soft time of it all her life now, I tell ye.” - </p> - <p> - At that moment the hush was broken by one of those solemn explosions that - the irreverent call a “vestry cough,” and “Wolf” Doughty, so nicknamed on - account of a swelling on his cheek, swung in his seat and suggested: - </p> - <p> - “I reckon we might as well proceed to elect a moderator to preside this - ev’nin’, whilst we are waitin’ for the defendant ’foresaid. Any one - that has a mind on the subject will please say something.” - </p> - <p> - At this hint Deacon Burgess was preparing to nominate Doughty, when there - was a bustle in the entry-way and Squire Prin Look came in, blinking the - outside gloom from his kindly eyes. The little teacher followed close in - the lee of his generous bulk, her eyes downcast. The lawyer had carefully - timed his late arrival, both on his own account and for the sake of the - schoolma’am. - </p> - <p> - “We’ll let ’em get settled on the roost,” he had told her, “and - their first spell of cawing over and done with.” - </p> - <p> - He lifted her chair from the platform and placed it so that she did not - have to meet their eye-borings. Then he went up and calmly sat down in the - visitor’s chair, the only seat on the platform, with an air of - proprietorship. - </p> - <p> - He crossed his knees and swung his dusty foot comfortably, oblivious to - the frowns on the faces of Doughty and his adherents. The old dog beside - him surveyed the audience with benignly extended jaws and rapped his tail - as though it were a chairman’s gavel. - </p> - <p> - The town of Palermo was accustomed to seeing the Squire at the head of all - assemblages. For years he had been the natural selection of the voters at - town meetings, after that hot caucus years before when he had defeated - Judge Willard, who had been moderator so long that the office had almost - become titular with him. It was a bold man who would get up now and - suggest that some one else preside. The men stole embarrassed looks at - each other, waiting for some one to take the plunge. - </p> - <p> - “We’re wasting time, fellow-townsmen,” said the Squire briskly. - </p> - <p> - “We was jest gittin’ ready to choose a moderator when you came in,” - growled Doughty. - </p> - <p> - “Will you kindly make the nomination, Mr. Doughty?” directed the lawyer, - keenly eyeing the man. - </p> - <p> - Doughty, nervous under the general regard that was now fixed on him, - gruntingly worked his legs from under a desk and stood up. He could not - nominate himself, and he wouldn’t name a Dunham district man, for he was - angry at the cowardice of the assemblage that had failed to obey his hint. - </p> - <p> - “I think it is the general sense of the meetin’,” he mumbled, “that Squire - Phineas Look serve as moderator, he knowin’ how—how——” - </p> - <p> - “I will accept the honour with thanks,” broke in the lawyer, rising. And - as he stood there looking into their sullen faces he reflected, “You’re a - cheeky old pirate, Phin, but it’s the only way to keep ’em from - putting the little one on the rack.” - </p> - <p> - “Neighbours,” he began, “I’m going to start in by telling you a bit of a - story. Once when I was a small boy my father had a flock of turkeys, and - the only thing I owned in the Lord’s world then was a little rabbit about - half grown. That was the time we lived over on the Ridge road; you - remember, some of you older ones, the farm that father took up?” Several - nodded. His tone was the social chat of an old friend. The initial - stiffness that had oppressed the farmers and their women had begun to wear - off. - </p> - <p> - “Well, s’r, folks, that rabbit was about as cunning a little critter as - you ever saw. Gracious, wasn’t I proud of him, though! He used to hop - around the yard and nibble clover, and I liked to watch him. You know how - a rabbit’s nose will flicker when he eats? Like a lawyer’s tongue in a - horse case!” His listeners greeted this thrust at the profession with much - hilarity. The Squire beamed an encouraging smile at the little teacher, - and then for the first time since their nod of greeting he looked straight - and long into the face of Sylvena Willard. Her brown eyes brimmed with - appreciation. - </p> - <p> - “Well, the little rabbit hopped about the yard where the big turkeys - brustled and hustled and pecked and scratched. Rabbit was busy getting its - living and didn’t mind the turkeys. And the turkeys didn’t pay much - attention to the rabbit. But one day something peculiar happened. One of - those hen turkeys made what you might call a mispeck at a grasshopper, - happened to get hold of that little rabbit’s ear by accident, and that - turkey was so surprised that she h’isted it right up and held on. - </p> - <p> - “Now, it’s the nature of turkeys, when they see another one holding up - something that seems like a good, tempting morsel, to close in on the run - and get their share. So in they tore. First hen turkey, however run off - with the rabbit. She thought it must be good to eat, seeing that all the - others were after her hotfoot. When she had run as long as she could, with - every once in awhile another turkey getting in a peck at it, she laid it - down to take a peck herself, and the others crowded around, shutting their - eyes and getting in their work, and before they knew what they were - pecking at they had torn that poor little rabbit all to bits.” - </p> - <p> - The audience blinked up at him, as yet hardly understanding the - application of the allegory. He straightened till his head grazed the - cracked ceiling. - </p> - <p> - “Since then I have always had an eye out to protect the innocent little - rabbits from excited turkeys, who most likely might be sorry after they - realised what they were pecking at.” - </p> - <p> - Esther Dunham interrupted him. She half rose from her seat and cried in - shrill tones: - </p> - <p> - “As near as I can ketch what you’re drivin’ at, Squire Look, you’re - callin’ me a hen turkey and you’re flingin’ out that the rest of the women - in this school deestrick are turkeys, too. I for one don’t consider that - is a compliment, and I don’t propose to sit here and listen to any more of - that sort of talk.” - </p> - <p> - He smiled indulgently at her excitement and went on: - </p> - <p> - “As old Anse Breed, the chicken thief, used to say, ‘It’s a wise fowl that - doesn’t step off the roost on to the first warm board that’s stuck up in - the night.’ - </p> - <p> - “Now, we’ll just let the story I’ve told stand for what it’s worth. But - you mustn’t expect me to argue in defence of such turkeys. And if you ever - see an old gobbler named Phineas Look forgetting himself to any such - extent you may throw just as many stones at me as you like till I come to - my right senses. - </p> - <p> - “You all know why you’ve met here to-night. All this gossip and guess-so - and say-so has been thrashed over at back doors and front doors, upstairs - and downstairs. I’ll not soil my tongue by rolling it in my mouth.” - </p> - <p> - “It’s the bus’ness of this meeting to bring out the evidence,” blurted - “Wolf” Doughty. - </p> - <p> - “Any time I need any assistance, Doughty, in running a meeting over which - I am presiding I’ll call you in,” replied the Squire tartly. “Now, what - are the facts? Here is a little girl—only a little girl—poor - Ben Haskell’s ’Liza, born and brought up in this town. Her mother - dead and her father worse than dead. She trying to earn her living - honestly, taking care of the children that you’re glad to have out from - underfoot, you women. Every day she has been sending them home to you a - little better, a little sweeter, a little more honest and self-respecting - for having been with her that day—and yet all of you are ready to - turn and rend her at the first squawk of—— - </p> - <p> - “Look-a-here, Squire!” Mrs. Dunham was leaning over her desk, her thin - hand vibrating at him. “You can go about so fur with me! Do you mean to - tell this meetin’ that my husband——” - </p> - <p> - “Sit down, woman!” the lawyer thundered. - </p> - <p> - “This ain’t free speech!” clamoured Uncle Appleby. “A moderator ain’t got - no license to choke off everybody here.” - </p> - <p> - With one stride Squire Phin was off the platform. Indignation bristled - from his shaggy gray locks and gleamed in his narrowing eyes. As he passed - Sylvena Willard she gave him a look that was like a cup of cold water to a - man in battle. - </p> - <p> - He stood among them in the centre aisle. - </p> - <p> - “Have your moderators to suit yourselves!” he shouted, with a thump of his - fist on the desk that made Uncle Paul dodge. “I’m down here now on this - floor as a man that won’t see this innocent girl harried nor put out of a - place where she is earning her honest living. Who are you, Esther Dunham, - to analyse the emotions of the human heart? A self-operating dishwashing - machine. What is your old husband that he can understand them, either? A - doubled-over grub worm. The two of you hungry for something in your lives, - you don’t know what! But you shall not shut your eyes and tear the - innocent! Eleven thousand dollars in the banks, eh?” He snarled the words - at them. “Rooted by your snouts out of the soil, and you never lifting - your eyes to God’s sun and sky and open heart and loving eye and generous - impulse. Oh, I know I am harsh and bitter! It is as hard for me to say it - as it is for you to hear it. I am bitter toward all of you that live that - way, and you in this town have always known my feelings. I dare to tell - you the truths about yourselves, and only the sharp-pointed truth will dig - into your hides. I dare to say to you, Esther Dunham, that you have - maligned a pure and innocent girl who has minded her own business. I dare - to tell you that you have trampled upon the torch of love in your own - house until you have trod out every spark. - </p> - <p> - “You wouldn’t let your husband love and do for his own child as he ought. - He don’t know what is the matter with him, that’s the trouble. He has been - bumping around like an old blind mule. He don’t know his own heart. - </p> - <p> - “Why, all under God’s heavens he needs is the love of a child—a - child, Esther Dunham. He has seen again in this poor girl the image of the - one he lost. He has built another altar for his affections, and if it is - outside of your own walls, blame yourself, Esther.” - </p> - <p> - He clapped his finger smartly against his palm. - </p> - <p> - “Wake up, ‘Caje! Wake up, my man! Can’t you see now what the hankering in - your heart meant?” - </p> - <p> - The old farmer tucked his head between his arms on the desk and wept - weakly. His wife sat staring straight before her. - </p> - <p> - “Poor little girl!” softly said the Squire. He tiptoed back down the aisle - and smoothed the little teacher’s curls. “Poor little girl! You have been - ground between two hard millstones—and none of you knew, none of you - knew.” - </p> - <p> - He gazed long, silently and rebukingly over the assemblage. The people - shifted uneasily, shuttling their eyes from him to the floor. - </p> - <p> - “Now, who wants to stand forth as persecutor of this abused child?” he - demanded, his hand protectingly on her head. - </p> - <p> - No one stirred or spoke. - </p> - <p> - In the silence he walked slowly up the aisle and bent down over the wife - who stood staring into vacancy. - </p> - <p> - “Esther!” he said softly, and when she looked up at him after a time he - gazed at her with his eyes softening. - </p> - <p> - “Poor old mother!” He said it with infinite tenderness. He waited awhile. - </p> - <p> - “It has been a bitter, cruel lesson that I have read to you,” he went on. - “I am a harsh old tyrant when my feelings are stirred. But I would have - defended just as stoutly your own little girl if she were here alone and - you were sleeping over yonder there on the hill where her mother is.” - </p> - <p> - He took her unwilling hand, and thereafter the eloquence that trembled on - his lips was the soul outpouring of a man who has lived the life of human - justice and generosity that he preached—and the woman knew it. With - the skill of one who understood what quality of human nature lay under - that tough New England exterior, he probed to the depths of her being, - pulled away all the husks of selfishness that the years had piled, layer - on layer, and reached the mother instinct. - </p> - <p> - “Esther,” he said at last, “don’t you think you’ll look better with that - softness you have now in your eyes when your ’Cilia meets you at - the gate of Heaven? Why don’t you practise that look for the rest of your - life? But you need something to practise on! There are lots of things that - are going to waste up at your house since ’Cilia died. There’s love - and tenderness, most of all. There’s the heart of a faithful man who has - been yoked with you all these years, dragging at your mutual burdens. He - wants a little love, that’s all. He wants that love from you, from no - other. The two of you need something to soften your hard natures, - something in common. You lost that when your girl died.” - </p> - <p> - He hastened down the aisle. The little school-ma’am struggled a bit in his - grasp, but with Sylvena Willard’s pat on her cheek and comforting word in - her ear she went with him. - </p> - <p> - “Now, Esther, what have you to say to this poor little chicken—this - motherless little girl? Look into her eyes! What have you to say?” - </p> - <p> - The woman seemed to be awakening from some dream. She gazed about over the - assemblage. Her eyes returned to the shrinking girl before her. - </p> - <p> - “It was only the same way that my own father was good to me, Mrs. Dunham,” - murmured the schoolma’am, tears streaking her cheeks. “I thought it was - you that sent some of the little things, till you—-you——” - Sobs checked her. - </p> - <p> - “Esther!” pleaded the Squire, “it’s awful lonesome up to your house!” - </p> - <p> - The whole picture of her homeless misery that afternoon blended with the - strange new light that had entered her soul. She clutched his arm and - pulled him down, whispered a few words into his ear, and then caught the - little schoolma’am in an embrace that proved that motherhood was burning - in her once again. - </p> - <p> - The Squire nodded his head and smiled sagely. Sylvena Willard was standing - at the foot of the aisle as he passed, mist in her eyes, but a smile of - earnest approbation on her lips that made his heart beat fast. - </p> - <p> - “It is a miracle, Phineas,” she whispered. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, no; it’s in all of ’em—in all of us, if you only know - how to get at it,” he returned softly. - </p> - <p> - Then he faced the silent people, who were blinking hard their blurry eyes. - He ran the brim of his worn hat around and around between his fingers with - an air that was almost embarrassment. - </p> - <p> - “Neighbours!” There was a bit of catch in his throat. “Esther wanted me to - tell you that the little school teacher has found a new mother to-night.” - </p> - <p> - He went out through the entry-way, and the old dog waddled down off the - platform and followed at his heels. - </p> - <p> - “Phineas!” Sylvena Willard caught him on the little platform of the school - house. “How are you going to return to the village?” - </p> - <p> - “I was reckoning to foot it, Eli and I.” - </p> - <p> - “The boy brought me in our team. Won’t you ride with me? I want to talk it - all over with you.” - </p> - <p> - He was about to accept, when out of the gloom to which their eyes were as - yet hardly accustomed came a blur of lighter colour. It was the lining of - King Bradish’s Goddard buggy, and Bradish leaned out and spoke to her, “I - sent the boy home with your hitch, Sylvie. I’ve been waiting for you.” He - climbed out and “cramped” the wheel. “Was your experience meeting worth - all the time you put into it?” he inquired with a bit of satire. - </p> - <p> - “You sent my carriage home?” she demanded indignantly. - </p> - <p> - “Why, it was the most natural thing in the world to do. There was no need - of keeping the boy here when you are going to ride back with me.” - </p> - <p> - “But I am not going to ride back with you, King,” she said, recovering her - composure. “I must withdraw my invitation to you,” she went on, turning to - the Squire. “But you can return the compliment by inviting me to share - your conveyance—Shanks’s mare, I believe the boys call it.” - </p> - <p> - “But it is two miles,” remonstrated the Squire. - </p> - <p> - “Only a pleasant stroll after the stuffiness of the school house. Come!” - She seized his arm and brushed past Bradish, for the people were beginning - to come out of the school house with their lamps. - </p> - <p> - He overtook them a few rods down the road. - </p> - <p> - “Sylvie,” he said, walking his horse close to them, “I don’t propose to - discuss this thing in the highway, but you certainly can’t be intending to - walk home with this man, under the <i>circumstances</i>.” He dwelt on the - last word. - </p> - <p> - She did not reply, but continued to chat to the Squire, who plodded on, - dumb and confounded at the turn affairs had taken. - </p> - <p> - “And I shall tell your father!” drawled Bradish, venom in his tone. - </p> - <p> - “Tell him whatever you think will be the best for all concerned,” she - replied with fully as much significance. - </p> - <p> - They heard him lashing his horse cruelly as he turned the corner into the - Cove road. - </p> - <p> - But during the walk to the village his name was not mentioned between - them. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IX—SUMNER BADGER MAKES A WILL AND, UNWITTINGLY, A DISCLOSURE - </h2> - <p class="indent15"> - “A man there was who died of late - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Whom angels did impatient wait, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - With outstretched arms and smiles of love - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - To take him to the Realms Above. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - “While angels hovered in the skies - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Disputing who should bear the prize, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - In slipped the Devil like a weasel - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And Down Below he kicked old Keazle! ” - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - —An Epitaph by “Rhymester” Tuttle. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he Squire had - pulled his arm-chair into the centre of the broadest patch of sunshine - that carpeted the dusty floor of his office. The light flooded his book’s - pages until he almost closed his eyes, but he welcomed sunshine this - morning. It fitted into his mood. When Brickett started his coffee-grinder - there was a certain rhythm about it that set the Squire to whistling. - “Hard-Times” Wharff was playing on his tin flute down in the yard of the - little brown house behind the currier’s shop, the music serving as his - daily relaxation from his meditations on astronomy. Usually the monotonous - “toodle-oodle” irritated the Squire. This day he tapped time with his - finger on the open page. - </p> - <p> - He wanted to say something aloud and he glanced up at the “Creosote - Supreme Bench.” No, that wasn’t the right kind of an audience! He looked - down at the floor. Eli’s steadfast, worshipful gaze caught his. The dog - rapped his tail genially. - </p> - <p> - “Eli,” said the Squire, smiling at him, “when you load your gun to bring - down a particular human heart, there isn’t any telling how many others the - scatter-fire will hit.” - </p> - <p> - Then for a little while he sat and dreamed over that walk home along the - Cove road, past the pines that whispered and along the shore where the - waves seemed to follow them with a sort of a dance step. And neither of - them had said a word about love during all the long walk! - </p> - <p> - In fact, Squire Phin hadn’t said much of anything. It was so good to hear - her voice. Since he had talked to her that August day across the iron - fence he had been afraid she would think that he was whining and - sentimental. To be sure, he reflected, his feelings had been cruelly - stirred that day, and that was some excuse; and then, too, he had waited - ten years to say even the little that he did say. He was rather proud that - he hadn’t raked up the old topic during the walk. This was the pride of - New England reserve that distrusts over-much lip service. It had been hard - to hold in sometimes along the way, when she praised his courage in - handling the affair in the Dunham district and showed her appreciation of - other things that he didn’t know she had heard about. - </p> - <p> - “I suppose some men would have taken advantage and pestered her again with - love-talk,” he had pondered as he walked away from the iron gate of the - Willard place, “but I reckon I’ll never get fussed up enough again to - bother her that way. It’s a tough thing for a woman to feel that she can’t - walk with a man without his everlastingly dinging away his own troubles - into her ears—and—and there may be a time when she will walk - with me again if she realises that I know enough to keep my mouth shut.” - </p> - <p> - All of which might indicate to those versed in such matters that Squire - Phin Look understood litigation better than love-making, which has its own - court days, its calendar for service, its notice and its set time for - appeal. He, however, felt that he had played the part of chivalry. - </p> - <p> - So the morning had seemed fair and he had slapped Hiram on the back at - breakfast time and had hummed a tune as he walked to his office, and - everything had seemed to be music, even the mournful cooing of - “Hard-Times’s” tin flute. - </p> - <p> - And when old Sumner Badger came dragging up the stairs and into the - office, and dolorously announced that he was going to die inside of two - days and wanted to make his will, the Squire leaned back in his chair and - laughed, to the indignant disgust of old Sumner. - </p> - <p> - “If there’s anything funny about my havin’ a call to the Speret Land I’d - be much obleeged if you’d ’loosidate it, Squire Phin Look.” There - was a scowl on the old man’s yellow face, and his shock of white hair - bristled. - </p> - <p> - “Die!” echoed the Squire; “why, Sum, who talks of dying with the sun warm - overhead, and the waves sparkling out yonder in the Cove, and even Asa - Brickett’s coffee-grinder down there playing dance music with every twist - of the handle? Never say die, Sum.” - </p> - <p> - “I donno what’s happened to chirk you up so’t you giggle at your - neighbour’s solum warnin’s as have come to ’em, nor I don’t care a - ding, Squire Look, but it ain’t right to mix in your own joys with others’ - sorrers.” - </p> - <p> - A close observer might have seen in the lawyer’s countenance a flicker of - contrition, as though he had suddenly remembered that every man in Palermo - didn’t have such cause for joy as he. - </p> - <p> - “Sun a-shinin’, you say!” went on Badger, grimly. “Yes, and a sun-dog each - side of it like wings on a bat, and a-showin’ that we’re goin’ to have a - line gale that will blow the knot-holes out of apple trees. Waves - sparklin’, hey? Porgy scum from that stinkin’ Cod Lead fact’ry that - they’ve stuck under our noses out our way. Music in a coffee-grinder! And - Brickett chargin’ three cents more a pound for Rio than he ever done. - There’s some as can laugh at a fun’ral, but they ain’t got no good wit.” - </p> - <p> - “I never laughed yet at anybody’s troubles, Uncle Sum,” said the Squire, - gently; “but you and I, with life still in us, don’t know the day and the - hour of our passing out. You’re not going to die.” - </p> - <p> - “You think you know more about me than my guardeen angel, do you, hah? - When my guardeen angel comes a-rappin’ the death knock on my headboard - night after night I know what it means.” - </p> - <p> - The Squire remembered that Badger was a Spiritualist of fervent faith. He - made no comment. - </p> - <p> - “Three times at our circle Mis’ Achorn has seen a shroud around me and - angel hands beckoning over my head. You ain’t denyin’ that Mis’ Achorp is - the best medium in this country, be ye?” - </p> - <p> - “Mrs. Achorn is, probably, a good and well-meaning woman, Sum, I have no - doubt; but if I were you I wouldn’t let any one scare me into conniptions. - It doesn’t pay.” - </p> - <p> - “I know what I’m talkin’ about,” persisted Badger. “I want to make my - will.” - </p> - <p> - “There’s no reason why you shouldn’t,” the Squire replied, and he pulled a - long sheet of paper from the drawer. - </p> - <p> - “I allus like to know prices before I buy. What will sech a dockyment cost - me?” - </p> - <p> - Sumner Badger was known widely as the “closest figgerer” in Palermo. He - often boasted that he had never been extravagant in his life except once - when he bought five cents’ worth of peppermint-drops for a girl. He was - young then, he said. - </p> - <p> - “She set and et the whole mess right down, one after the other,” he - frequently related, “and that fixed me with <i>her</i>. I wouldn’t have no - sech extravagance as that in a wife and so she lost her chance. I went and - got me a woman that knowed how to make things spend for what they was - wuth.” And on their little farm, denying themselves everything except the - barest necessities, the couple had amassed their little competence. - </p> - <p> - The Squire eyed the old man’s sun-faded clothes and his knotted hands and - his seamed, gaunt face, yellow with bile, and he pitied this slave who had - half-starved himself, in the midst of his herds and his harvests. - </p> - <p> - “Poor old gaffer, you’ve sold your cream all along and drunk the skim - milk,” he reflected—“a life ordeal worse than Tantalus went through, - for Tantalus couldn’t reach what he was hungry for, and all you have had - to do was to stick out your hand and dip into bounty.” - </p> - <p> - He looked long at Badger, his shrewd eyes twinkling with the humour that - replaced his momentary pity. Then he answered the old man’s question. - </p> - <p> - “I’m willing to be reasonable, Sum. Now, what would you say was a fair - price for drawing a will?” - </p> - <p> - “Lawyers’ money comes dretful easy,” growled Badger. “’Tain’t like - diggin’ it out of a farm.” He pondered, screwing up his eyes and - calculating. “I should say if you’d draw up one that couldn’t be busted - I’d be willin’ to pay a shillin’.” He made a move to draw his wallet, but - the lawyer put up his hand. - </p> - <p> - “I’ll tell you what I’ll do with you, Sum. If you’ll carry home to-day a - good big piece of steak and eat it with your wife—lots of butter on - it—I’ll draw your will for nothing.” - </p> - <p> - Badger surveyed him dubiously and with sullen suspicion. - </p> - <p> - “We don’t go much on meat vittles to our house—not with beef prices - stuck ’way up where they be.” - </p> - <p> - “That’s my price. And it’s got to be sirloin, not round.” - </p> - <p> - The lawyer saw by the expression on Badger’s face that he had anticipated - the old man’s prompt thought as to quality. - </p> - <p> - “Steak’s steak, ain’t it?” he muttered. “I never heard of payin’ a - lawyer’s bill in no sech fashion, but”—he sighed—“I’ll do it.” - </p> - <p> - “And aren’t you going to thank me into the bargain?” demanded the Squire. - “I usually get five dollars, at least, for a document of this sort.” - </p> - <p> - “I reckon it’s lib’ral as law goes, Squire.” He suddenly warmed a bit. - “You’ve been reasonable with me. Now I’ll do something for you. You’ve - allus kind of cocked your nose up at s’p’tu’lism. I know it. You needn’t - tell me! Now it’s goin’ to be worth something for you to reelly know - whether there’s anything on the Other Side. So after I arrive there and - git a little bit wonted to the place I’ll come back and appear to you and - tell you all about it.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, no, Sum,” expostulated the lawyer, his face serious. “I couldn’t - think of asking you to take all that trouble for a hard old nut like me.” - </p> - <p> - “But a word from you to the people—you bein’ prominent—sayin’ - that you’d seen me—materialised, mebbe; known by knocks, anyway—and - I’d said ’twas so-and-so, would carry a good deal of weight and - prove that I ain’t been no dum fool to b’lieve in s’p’tu’lism. I say, I’m - comin’ back and appear to you and you needn’t think it’s anything - strange.” - </p> - <p> - The Squire leaned forward and shook his finger at Badger. - </p> - <p> - “Let me advise you on one point, Sum. This advice isn’t going to cost a - cent. Now, if you ever get so much as one foot into heaven—even get - your fingers through the crack in the door, you stay right there. Don’t - you ever take any chances on coming away to visit. They might get to - asking leading questions about you the next time you came back to the - door.” - </p> - <p> - “You don’t mean that for a slur, do you?” The old man’s face hardened. - </p> - <p> - “Let’s get to the business of drawing the will before we go to talking - personal, Sum. I don’t have the same ideas as you on some ways of living.” - </p> - <p> - He wrote the usual heading at the top of the page, dipped his pen and, - suddenly looking Badger in the eye, asked bluntly: - </p> - <p> - “I suppose it all goes to the wife so long as she lives, and after her to - your niece, seeing that you have no children. To ’Liza Haskell, - poor Ben’s girl, I mean?” - </p> - <p> - The old man shook his head with determination. - </p> - <p> - “What! you aren’t going to leave it to your only niece—your dead - sister’s child—a little girl that——?” - </p> - <p> - “This is my will and it’s my own property that I’m willin’,” interrupted - the farmer. “You can make it short and right to the point. It’s all goin’ - to be turned into cash when I die, and Mirandy will git the interest as - long as she lives, to be paid to her by the trustees that I shall name. - Then the whole is goin’ to pay for a monnyment over my grave.” - </p> - <p> - Squire Phin leaned back and stared at the old man. - </p> - <p> - “Yess’r, a monnyment with my statoot on top and poetry about s’p’tu’lism - carved around the bottom. I’ll show ’em that has scoffed and - sneered that there is more to it than they thought.” - </p> - <p> - “But how do you prove anything by putting, say, ten thousand dollars into - such infernal foolishness as that?” stormed the Squire. - </p> - <p> - “It will show that one man believed in it thirteen thousand dollars’ wuth—and - that’s all he had and what he’d worked for all his life,” persisted the - farmer, stubbornly. He stood up and cracked his fist on the table. - </p> - <p> - “Now, you can’t change my mind on that one jot or tittle, Squire Phin - Look. You put it into any kind of lawyer lingo that will stick, and mind - your own business.” - </p> - <p> - The Squire completed the writing without further comment, but his face was - stern and he drove his pen into the inkstand with violent thrusts. Badger - during the writing informed him that he wanted him to be one of the - trustees. The lawyer paused and frowned at the old man as though he were - intending to refuse, then inserted the name. - </p> - <p> - “And I want you to take these notes,” went on Badger, “and figger the - interest up on ’em and put ’em in your safe and keep ’em.” - </p> - <p> - He passed across the table a dog’s-eared bank-book with a few papers - between the leaves. The Squire examined them without particular interest. - There were half a dozen for small amounts. But at sight of the last he sat - up straighter, studied the document with increasing attention, turned it - over and over, and then stared at Badger, arching his eyebrows. - </p> - <p> - “Where did you get hold of this town note?” he demanded. - </p> - <p> - “I lent good money for it. I got it right from the man whose name is - signed at the bottom—and he’s been town treasurer of Palermo for - thirty years. I reckon you know him!” - </p> - <p> - “Seven thousand dollars!” muttered the Squire. “Why, this town hasn’t——” - </p> - <p> - “There ain’t nothin’ out of the way, is there, about me havin’ a town - note?” Badger went on. He paused a moment, then added, “So long as you’re - my lawyer and one of the trustees and I’m goin’ to die and shan’t be - lendin’ the money any longer, I tell you that’s a good way to let your - money out—on a town note.” - </p> - <p> - For the first time since he had come into the office his face twisted into - something like a smile. He leaned forward and whispered: - </p> - <p> - “Says the Judge to me, ‘You keep right still about how you’ve lent this - money to the town and you won’t git taxed. So long’s it’s between you and - me it won’t git onto the assessors’ books.’” - </p> - <p> - The Squire had the note spread before him and was studying it, his hands - clutched into his thick hair, his elbows on the table. - </p> - <p> - “Yess’r, the Judge says, ‘You’re a friend of mine, Sum, and so long’s you - keep still you’ll git your six per cent, and not be taxed on it!’ But - there ain’t no need of keepin’ still any longer. I shan’t need extra - int’rest. You can collect as soon as I’m dead.” - </p> - <p> - “Sum,” said the Squire, slowly lifting his eyes to the old man’s face—eyes - in which there was a sort of shocked bewilderment, “I don’t want you to - say anything about this note. It isn’t to be talked of.” - </p> - <p> - “But I’ve told Figger-Four Avery about it,” cried Badger, looking scared. - </p> - <p> - “Figger-Four Avery!” Squire Phin shouted the name. “Why, you might as well - have put it into the <i>Seaside Oracle</i>. What do you want to go - blurting your affairs for?” - </p> - <p> - “He was inquirin’ on bus’ness for your brother Hime,” faltered Badger. “He - said Hime was borryin’ and lendin’ and was willing to pay seven per cent. - Figger-Four is clerkin’ for Hime and gittin’ facts and figgers for him, - and you know it jest as well as I do.” - </p> - <p> - “No, I don’t know——” but the lawyer checked his exclamation, - setting his lips hard. He put the bank-book and the notes away in the - safe. - </p> - <p> - “It’s best for you to keep your mouth shut about this,” he said curtly to - the old man who followed his movements with frightened stare. “I won’t - answer for what may happen to you otherwise.” - </p> - <p> - He threw up the window and looked out. Uncle Buck and Marriner Amazeen sat - on the store platform, their chairs tilted back. They were the lawyer’s - regular stand-bys as witnesses of legal papers, and came upstairs at his - call. - </p> - <p> - “Your will, hey?” observed Buck as he pulled his spectacles down from his - forehead and looked over the paper preparatory to signing it. “I allus - thought you cal’lated on takin’ it all with ye, Sum.” - </p> - <p> - When his eyes fell on the writing designating the purpose to which the - estate was to be applied, he snorted, “Well, it’s about as I reckoned, - after all. That’s the next thing to luggin’ it away to Kingdom Come.” He - read the clause aloud to Amazeen. - </p> - <p> - “Statoot to be life-size?” that individual blandly inquired. - </p> - <p> - “It will be as big’s there’s money for,” replied Badger, stiffly. “It will - be sculped out from my photograft and I reckon the sculper can make me - nine feet high. There’s risin’ thirteen thousand to do it with.” He gazed - at his auditors with triumph. - </p> - <p> - “Le’s see!” pursued Amazeen, reflectively, “that would make your ear about - as big over as a chiny nappy. Before you’ve been standin’ there two days - them cussed sparrers will set up housekeepin’ in both ears. And a robin - will have a nest under your arm, and there’ll be a crow settin’ on your - head ha’f the time. You want to add a codicil there providin’ for about - four scarecrow windmills set around over you. You’re goin’ to be almighty - uncomfortable if you don’t. A statoot with twine string and feathers - sticking out of the ears ain’t going to attract no particular admirin’ - interest.” - </p> - <p> - “If the citerzens of this town stand round and see a thirteen thousand - dollar monnyment get all cluttered and gurried up, then they ain’t got no - more public sperit than quahaugs,” cried Badger. - </p> - <p> - Amazeen took Uncle Buck’s place at the table and proceeded to affix his - signature. While he wrote he said: - </p> - <p> - “Mebbe you think you’ve done enough for this town so that the citerzens - will stand out there in the grave-yard, turn and turn about, and keep the - flies off’n that statoot with a feather duster! But I’m more inclined to - think that the youngsters will do it with rocks.” - </p> - <p> - Badger replied to the sally with violent language, and the debate was - becoming acrimonious when the Squire brusquely advised them to continue - their dispute out of doors. His tone was harsher than usual, and his face - was troubled. The old men went out, Amazeen shouting further directions to - Badger, who hurried ahead, advising lightning rods and fire extinguishers - and other appurtenances. Uncle Buck greeted each suggestion with a cackle - of laughter. Squire Phin heard them pursuing their furious victim across - the square, but he listened with abstracted frown, though at another time - the grim jests might have amused him. - </p> - <p> - He took the town note out of the safe and examined it again. Then he - pulled down a bundle of small pamphlets bearing the cover inscription, - “Town Reports of Palermo.” He studied them with care and at last leaned - back in his chair and gazed long at the ceiling. - </p> - <p> - “If I,” he said, softly, “were town treasurer of Palermo and had borrowed - seven thousand dollars simply on my own name as treasurer, after the town - had voted that two of the selectmen should sign with the treasurer on town - loans, and had continued to pay six per cent, for that money after the - town had voted to refund all floating indebtedness at four per cent., and, - finally, still owed that seven thousand after making oath in my last - report that the town owed less than two thousand dollars, why, I—I - couldn’t explain it to myself, much less to the voters of this town.” - </p> - <p> - Brickett began to grind coffee again. - </p> - <p> - “Don’t the people of this place buy anything except coffee?” growled the - Squire, jumping up and striding around the office. The noise racked his - nerves now. - </p> - <p> - “It can’t be,” he muttered. “It’s some mistake or—or——” - The recollection of certain gossip he had heard a year before at the - county court regarding alleged dealings in stock by “a prominent Palermo - man” and his losses occurred to him, and he remembered that he had stoutly - averred that no one in his town ever dealt in stocks. He knew that people - outside were usually the first to hear of such things, but this was a - story that he didn’t believe. This note was there on his table—a - document that demanded explanation—a document that could be - explained by a desperate man’s financial stress and in no other way. Men - did not take such chances for amusement. - </p> - <p> - Aquarius Wharff’s little flute piped away insistently. - </p> - <p> - “What a devilish nuisance that old fool is!” the lawyer growled, and he - went along and slammed down the window. - </p> - <p> - Who properly should demand that explanation? Himself as town agent. - </p> - <p> - Brickett was now unheading a barrel, and the clamour made the Squire pound - his table with a boyish and futile rage. Every noise jarred on him and the - sun didn’t shine in at the windows any longer. - </p> - <p> - There was no doubt about his duty. The note must be shown to the - selectmen. He picked it up, put it into his pocketbook, hesitated at the - door, then hastily went back to the safe, tucked it into the most remote - pigeon-hole, slammed the safe door and whirled the lock knob vigorously. - </p> - <p> - “No, sir,” he muttered as he went down the stairs, “this isn’t a thing to - prick with a crowbar. It needs a fine needle. There’s a woman to be - considered first, and, by the gods! there’s no steer-team of selectmen - going to walk over her to get to her father—no matter how the land - lies.” - </p> - <p> - He stopped at the foot of the stairs and looked back at his office door - with a singular air of apprehension, as though he had left there some ugly - and hideous object. - </p> - <p> - “No, it can’t be.” He stamped his foot upon the turf. “It isn’t the - Willard stripe to do a thing like that. He’s a hog, but not a thief. I - guess I’ll go and sit under the old poplars and think about it a bit.” - </p> - <p> - As he walked along the street he remembered what Badger had said about his - brother Hiram’s activity in the matter of that town note. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER X—HIRAM LOOK PULLS IN SIMON PEAK FROM THE FLOTSAM OF LIFE - </h2> - <h3> - FOR GOOD AND SUFFICIENT REASONS - </h3> - <p class="indent15"> - Foster the tinker traversed Maine - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - From Elkinstown to Kittery Point, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - With a rattling pack and a rattling brain, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - And a general air of “out of joint.” - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - A gaunt, old chap with a shambling gait, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - A battered hat and rusty clothes, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - With grimy digits in sorry state, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - And a smooch on the end of his big red nose. - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - That was the way that Foster went— - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Mixture of shrewdness and folly blent, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Mending the pots and pans as ordered, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - But leaving the leak in his nob unsoldered. - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - —From “Ballads of the Wayfarers.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>iram was on the - porch in his favourite attitude, his chair tipped against the wall, his - tall hat on the back of his head, his thumb hooked into the armhole of his - vest. He rolled his cigar across his tongue and looked at his brother with - a sidewise, suspicious glance as the Squire sat down on the edge of the - platform. The lawyer remembered suddenly that he had seen that look on - Hiram’s face frequently of late. It was the wary expression of a man who - feared that he might be called on to defend himself. - </p> - <p> - “I thought I’d run up to the house and sit down for a spell, Hime. The - loafers down there get on my nerves once in a while.” - </p> - <p> - The Squire noted the instant relief on Hiram’s face. The cigar rolled back - to the other corner of his mouth and perked itself with new assurance. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t blame you, Phin. That’s why I keep away from Brickett’s. I can - jaw ’em off the premises, here, when they get to bothering me.” - </p> - <p> - The old woman whom Hiram had insisted on adding to the household as maid - of all work snapped her dishcloth at the ell window and began chatting - with “Figger-Four” Avery, who was varnishing one of the vans. Avery sat - down on the cart tongue and gave her his full attention. - </p> - <p> - “Avery is a fair sample of ’em,” continued Hiram, jerking his head - to indicate his servitor. “There ought to be only three days in the week - for fellers like him and the rest round here—a rainy day, Sunday and - pay-day.” - </p> - <p> - “It wears on a man like Avery to get up before breakfast and work between - meals,” observed the Squire, drily. - </p> - <p> - At this little jest of his brother’s, Hiram recovered all his composure. - It was evident that the Squire wasn’t bringing that dreaded “bone to - pick,” he reflected. - </p> - <p> - “I’m goin’ to have old Skip-bug, there, give the whole outfit a - goin’-over, new gilding, new paint, varnish, and a clean scour. Prob’ly - I’ll be takin’ to the road again next season, Phin,” he said, with a sigh. - “I’ve been studyin’ it over for quite a spell. I’m get-tin’ to realise - every day that you’ve drifted your way and I’ve drifted mine, and the - things I talk about don’t hit you and the things you talk about——” - </p> - <p> - “I’m a pretty dry, prosy chap to be a companion to one who has seen the - world as you’ve seen it,” the Squire finished the sentence. - </p> - <p> - “No, it ain’t that, Phin,” blustered Hiram. “The idea is you’ve got - education and I ain’t, and I never shall have. There’s only brass and - bellow to me, slam-bang like a circus band. So I guess I’ll have - Hop-and-fetch-it give the gear a slickin’ and I’ll be movin’ on.” He set - his hat down over his eyes and smoked hard. - </p> - <p> - The Squire did not reply for a time. He had unclasped his jack-knife and - was meditatively jabbing it into the decayed wood of the porch platform. - </p> - <p> - “The Looks are no great hands to make a lot of soft talk to each other or - anybody else, Hime,” he said at last. “But I want to say to you that I - really hoped you were home to settle here. Half of the house is yours to - do with as you like. Neither of us will bother the other one—I - hope!” - </p> - <p> - Hiram gave him another of his suspicious side-glances. - </p> - <p> - “I’ve heard that you have been making quite a number of investments in - town and were looking for more, and so I supposed you had decided to camp - here. I wish you would, Hime.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I don’t like to have money ’round idle, that’s all,” growled - his brother. He waited a moment and then, studying the Squire from the - corner of his eye, he said: - </p> - <p> - “I suppose the old fools ’round here are makin’ all kinds of talk - about my lettin’ out a little money. I ain’t said anything to you about it - ’cause I reckoned you had business enough of your own to think - about.” - </p> - <p> - “And I find enough in my own affairs to keep me busy, Hime. But”—he - turned his gaze full upon his brother—“I’ve found time to wonder why - you’ve been trying to <i>borrow</i> money from old Sum Badger.” Hiram - growled an oath, brought his chair down on its four legs with a clatter, - and half rose, with a malignant eye boring the back of Avery, who was - unsuspiciously swabbing his brush on the side of the van. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, it isn’t Figger-Four’s mouth this time, Hime. I’ve been drawing up - Sum’s will and he told me about it and left his notes with me.” - </p> - <p> - Now that the Squire’s gaze showed that he understood the situation, - Hiram’s apprehensiveness gave place to bravado. - </p> - <p> - “And what do you think of that town note that shows that your high and - mighty treasurer is a—is—well, whatever the law name is, I say - ‘thief’?” - </p> - <p> - “I am perfectly well able to attend to the business of my clients, and I - am not prepared to discuss their private affairs just yet,” returned the - Squire, tartly. “It comes pretty near bein’ a town affair, and as I’ve - never gained residence anywhere else and am a voter here and have got - investments here, it comes pretty near bein’ my affair, too.” - </p> - <p> - “There are good and sufficient reasons why I don’t want this old family - feud carried on any longer, Hiram.” The lawyer stood up, clacked his - knife’s blade shut and shoved it into his pocket. - </p> - <p> - “And I know what the reasons are and I say you’re a devilish fool to have - ’em,” cried his brother. - </p> - <p> - “I have lived in this town all my life, Hiram”—the Squire preserved - his temper, though the other was already bristling with wrath. “I intend - to live here much longer. I am ready to resent injury just as quickly as - you are. But this keeping alive an old fight, when there have been - provocations on both sides, is folly and will lower us both in the - estimation of the public. I say, you are not going to tramp over innocent - persons to get at the object of your grudge.” - </p> - <p> - Hiram stood up and kicked his chair off the porch. - </p> - <p> - “Allow me to remind you—not to twit, but to speak the plain truth—that - you seem to have waked up pretty late to the fact that you had any - vengeance to attend to in this town.” - </p> - <p> - “And that’s just it,” shouted Hiram. “I stayed away and let the wickin’ be - put to you and father. You’ve been ground into the dirt and mallywhacked - and spit on, just on account of me. The Look fam’ly has been muck under - foot for some folks. And even now, after all that’s past and gone, that - old wolf would have my ha’slet out of me if he could get it. There’s a - debt due to the Looks, compound int’rest piled on compound int’rest, and - by the jumped-up Judas Is-carrot, I’m goin’ to collect it, Phin. You may - as well stand out of the way.” - </p> - <p> - He strode about the little yard before the porch. - </p> - <p> - “And besides all that, he’s stealin’ from this town, and you know it,” - cried Hiram, stopping in his march for a moment. - </p> - <p> - “There’s other redress for that besides persecution,” replied the Squire. - “It isn’t our business as Seth Look’s boys.” - </p> - <p> - “It <i>is</i> our bus’ness. And it’s more yours than it is mine. You’re - the agent of this town. You’re the man the people trust to see that - Palermo gets what’s her just dues. You know she is bein’ robbed. Now, - Phin, you either go to work and find out why old Coll Willard is borrowin’ - money secretly on town’s notes, and you put it before the people in the - right and proper way as you know how to do, or, by mighty, I’ll do it my - way and then you’ll see how you stand before the people—you that’s - hidin’ a note that you know is crooked.” - </p> - <p> - Hiram stopped before his brother and breathed hard in his passion. And now - the Squire’s repression began to give way. The obstinacy of this stormy - petrel of the Look family was maddening. - </p> - <p> - But, fortunately for both, the unhappy quarrel was interrupted. For some - moments there had been approaching behind the alders at the turn of the - highway a queer medley of sound—squeaking of whiffle-tree, yawling - of dry axle and over all a peculiar moaning. Now a vehicle like a van came - in sight. The brothers stood and watched it as it approached them. Avery - came hobbling with brush in hand and gaped his surprise. - </p> - <p> - “Well, P’lermo’s took this time, sartin sure,” he gasped. - </p> - <p> - ’Twas almost a little house on wheels. An elbow of stove funnel - stuck out of one side. An old chaise-top was fastened by strings and wire - over a seat in front. Dust and mud covered everything with striated - coatings, a mask eloquent of wanderings over many soils. - </p> - <p> - A bony horse, knee-sprung and wheezy, dragged the van at the gait of a - caterpillar. - </p> - <p> - Under the chaise-top was a hunched-up elderly man, gaunt but huge of - frame, his knees almost at his chin. Long, grizzled hair fluffed over his - shoulders, and little puffs of white whiskers stood out from his tanned - cheeks. A fuzzy beaver hat barely covered the bald spot on his head. The - reins were looped around his neck. Between his hands, huge as hams, moaned - and sucked and snuffled and droned a much-patched accordion. To its - accompaniment the man sang words that he fitted to the tune of “Old Dog - Tray,” trolling lustily at the end of each verse, “An honest friend is old - hoss Joe.” - </p> - <p> - “Whoa, there! Whup!” screamed Hiram’s parrot, swinging by one foot. - </p> - <p> - “Ain’t you kind of workin’ a friend to the limit, and a little plus?” - inquired Hiram, sarcastically. The old horse, at the parrot’s command, had - stopped before the gate, legs straddled, head down, the dust rising in - little puffs as he breathed. - </p> - <p> - “Joachim loves music,” said the stranger, with a mild smile. “He’ll travel - all day if I’ll only play and sing to him.” - </p> - <p> - “Love of music will be the death of Joachim, then,” commented Hiram, - briefly. - </p> - <p> - “Is there a hostelry near by?” asked the other, lifting his tall beaver - hat politely. In the atmosphere of rough-and-ready Palermo the little - action seemed an exaggeration. With satirical courtesy Hiram lifted his - hat—and at the psychological moment the only “plug” hats in the - whole town of Palermo saluted each other. - </p> - <p> - “There’s a hossery down the road, and a mannery, too, all run by old - Fyles.” - </p> - <p> - “Crack ’em down, gents,” rasped the parrot. “Twenty can play as - well as one.” - </p> - <p> - The man under the chaise-top pricked up his ears and cast a rather - startled look at the plug hat in the yard. Plug hat in the yard seemed - suddenly to recognise some affinity or comradeship in plug hat under the - chaise-top. The Squire saw only another of those fantastic wanderers who - occasionally went dragging through the village, peddling their wares. He - backed slowly to the porch and sat down. His brother trudged out into the - road and walked around the outfit, his nose elevated with a curiosity that - was almost canine. - </p> - <p> - At last he planted himself in the highway before the man of the - chaise-top, his knuckles on his hips, his eye flashing under brows - wrinkled with thought, and stared long and silently. - </p> - <p> - “Who be I?” he demanded at last. - </p> - <p> - The stranger surveyed him for a long time, his head drooping lower and - lower, until it was hugged between his shoulders. - </p> - <p> - “You,” he huskily ventured, “so I should jedge, though I ain’t seen you - for a good many years, you—I should say—you——” - </p> - <p> - “Well, up and out with it!” - </p> - <p> - “You are Look’s Leviathan Circus and Menagerie, H. Look, Proprietor.” - </p> - <p> - “You win a cigar,” assented Hiram, with a snap of his head. “And as for - you, you’re Sime Peak, billed as Mounseer Hercules, and I’m glad you - called when you came along.” - </p> - <p> - There was a grim significance under his words that made the stranger - flinch. - </p> - <p> - “Let’s see!” pursued Hiram, his eyes narrowing, “it’s quite a while to - remember back, but didn’t you throw up your job with me kind o’ sudden?” - </p> - <p> - The man on the van scratched a trembling forefinger through a cheek tuft. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t exactly recollect how the—how the change came about,” he - faltered. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I do!” Hiram came close and wagged a forefinger up at the man. “You - ducked out across country the night of that punkin freshet, when I was - mud-bound in that pennyr’yal settlement and the elephant was afraid of the - bridges. And you took my dancin’, turkey outfit and a cage of monkeys and - a few other things that didn’t belong to you, and—<i>her!</i>” He - almost shouted the last word, and then looked around with sudden - apprehension that he was overheard by his brother. But the Squire sat on - the porch without apparent interest. “What became of her, Sime Peak?” - demanded Hiram, hissing the words at him. He seized a spoke of the old, - dished wheel and shook the vehicle impatiently. The spoke came away in his - hand. - </p> - <p> - “Never mind it,” quavered the man. “It ain’t nothin’. We’re all comin’ to - pieces, me and the whole caboodle. But don’t hit me with it.” - </p> - <p> - He was eyeing the spoke in Hiram’s clutch. - </p> - <p> - “What did you steal her for, Sime Peak?” - </p> - <p> - “There isn’t anything sure about her goin’ away with me,” the other - protested weakly. - </p> - <p> - Hiram yanked away another spoke in the vehemence of his emotions. - </p> - <p> - “Don’t you lie to me!” he snarled. “The both of you done me when I was - tied up with my circus clear’n to the hubs in mud. Mounseer Hercules of - the curly hair!” he snorted, and ran a sneering gaze over the outfit. “She - wouldn’t chase you very fur now. You took her, I say, a girl I’d lifted - off the streets and made the champion lady rider of—and was goin’ to - marry and thought more of”—another cautious look at the Squire, - “yess’r, thought more of than I did of anyone else in the world. What did - you do with her?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I was startin’ and she wanted to go along and so I took her aboard. - She seemed to want to get away from your show, as near as I could find - out.” The giant hugged his knees together and blinked appealingly. - </p> - <p> - “It must be a bang-up livin’ you’re givin’ her.” Again Hiram disdainfully - surveyed the equipage. - </p> - <p> - “Seems as if you hadn’t heard the latest news,” broke in Peak, his face - suddenly clearing of the puckers of apprehension. “She never stuck to me - no time—honest to Gawd, Look. She only made believe she was goin’ to - marry me. It was so I’d take her along. She ducked out with ev’ry cent of - the sixteen hundred I’d saved up and run away with Signor Dellybunko—or - whatever his name was—who was waiting for her along the road. - Honest, I ain’t seen hide nor hair of her since, nor I don’t ever want - to,” he rattled on eagerly, “and I’ve still got the letter that she left - for me, and I’ll prove what I say. She said in it that she’d been plannin’ - to do the same thing with you, but she had made up her mind that you - wasn’t as easy as I was and she couldn’t work you.” - </p> - <p> - Hiram’s shoulders straightened and he pulled his trailing moustaches with - a bit of swagger. - </p> - <p> - “She was out just to do someone so’s she and Dellybunko could get away - with the stuff,” insisted Peak. - </p> - <p> - “She says so in the letter, and you was smart and I was easy—that’s - all!” - </p> - <p> - “It’s the old army game, gents!” squawked the parrot. He cracked his beak - against the bars of the cage. - </p> - <p> - Hiram shoved his hands into his pockets and with a sort of meditative air - of conscious superiority kicked another spoke out of the wheel. - </p> - <p> - “Hadn’t you just as soon tear pickets off’n the fence, there, or something - of that sort?” wistfully asked Peak. “This is all I’ve got left, and, - honestly, I’ve never had no great courage to do anything since she run - away with that sixteen hundred. I never had no great enterprise and - ability like you’ve got, anyway. I just went all to pieces.” - </p> - <p> - He scrubbed his raspy palms on his upcocked knees. - </p> - <p> - “I didn’t really want to run away with her, Hiram, but she bossed me into - it. I never was no hand to stand up for my rights. I could lift weights - and let ‘em crack a marble block on my chest, but anyone with a limber - tongue could allus talk me ’round—and I guess they allus can. - I wish she’d stuck to you and let me alone.” His big hands trembled on his - knees, and his weak face with its flabby chops had the wistful look one - sees on a foxhound’s visage. “When did you give up the road?” he asked, - evidently willing to change the subject. - </p> - <p> - “Haven’t given it up,” snapped Hiram, scowling. “There’s the waggons over - there, and the round-top and seats are stored, and I’ve got my elephant. - I’m liable to buy a lemon and a square hunk of glass and start out again - ’most any time.” - </p> - <p> - Hiram couldn’t help winking his good eye at his old partner in - “shenanigan,” though his face hardened again the moment after. Peak - chuckled fulsome appreciation, Still eager to placate, he said: - </p> - <p> - “I don’t suppose you really have to.” He blinked watery eyes at Hiram’s - big watch chain with its bunch of charms, and at the ring on his thick - finger, with its blazing stone. - </p> - <p> - “Forty thousand or so in the bank and plenty more out at int’rest,” - returned Hiram. He put both thumbs into the armholes of his vest. Then - with the patronising air of the “well-fixed” he inquired: - </p> - <p> - “How are you gettin’ your three squares nowadays?” - </p> - <p> - “Lecture on Lost Arts and Free Love, mesmerise and cure stutterin’ in one - secret lesson, pay in advance,” Peak explained listlessly. “But there - ain’t the three squares in no such graft in these times. I ain’t got your - head. I wish I’d been as sharp as you are and never let a woman whiffle me - into a scrape.” Hiram glowed with the same warmth that he felt when - “Figger-Four” daily regaled him with stories of how Myra Willard made life - miserable for Kleber with her tongue and her folly. This gossip had been - “Figger-Four’s” first recommendation to the notice of the showman, and - Avery had sagaciously pursued it. Hiram now looked up at the man on the - van with a pride that was gloomy, but none the less apparent. - </p> - <p> - “Nobody ever come it over me,” he said in low tones, with a side glance to - see that Avery didn’t overhear. “Still, another way you look at it, she - did come it over me and so did——” He suddenly checked himself. - </p> - <p> - “But she didn’t come it over you,” insisted Peak. “I’m the one she come it - over, and look at me!” He made a despairing gesture that embraced all his - pathetic belongings. “You’re the one that’s come out ‘unrivalled, - stupendous and triumphant,’ as your full sheeters used to say. If I was - any help in steerin’ her away I’m humbly glad of it, Hime, for I allus - liked you.” - </p> - <p> - This gradual assuming of the rôle of benefactor was not entirely to - Hiram’s taste, as his frown indicated, but the constant iteration of - admiration for his shrewdness and good fortune was having its effect. The - old grudge ached less. It was like having opodeldoc stuffed into a bad - tooth. Hiram felt as though he would like to listen to a lot more of that - comforting talk. Moreover, his showman’s heart was hungry for some of that - association of the old days and for a chance to swap old stories. - </p> - <p> - “Sime,” he cried with a heartiness that surprised even himself, “you’re a - poor old devil that’s been abused, and you seem to be all in.” He surveyed - the wheezy horse and kicked another spoke from the wheel. - </p> - <p> - “Crack ’em down, crack ’em down, gents!” squalled the - parrot. - </p> - <p> - “If it wasn’t for Absalom, there, to holler that to me with an occasional - ‘Hey, Rube!’ I don’t believe I could stay in this God-forsaken place - fifteen minutes. There’s no one here that can talk about anything except - ensilage and new-milk cows. Now, what say, Sime? Store your old traps - along o’ mine, squat down and take it comfortable a little while. I reckon - that you and me can find a few things to talk about that really amount to - something.” - </p> - <p> - The man on the van unhooked the reins from around his neck and let them - fall to the ground. But he still hesitated to climb down. - </p> - <p> - “I should hate to feel that I was a burden on you,” he faltered. “But if - there’s any stutterers around here I might earn a little something on the - side to help out on my board.” - </p> - <p> - “Me with forty thousand in the bank takin’ board money from an old friend, - or lettin’ a guest of mine graft for his livin’?” snorted Hiram. “Not by a - blame sight! You just shut up and h’ist yourself down here and help me - unharness old Polyponeesus.” - </p> - <p> - Hiram introduced his guest to his brother with curt brevity. - </p> - <p> - “And I guess I’ll do as you hinted this mornin’ about takin’ the other - half of the house, Phin,” he said. “I don’t want any friends of mine to be - underfoot for you. As long as you suggested splittin’ off, I’ll do it. Old - Aunt What’s-Her-Name can do for both of us.” - </p> - <p> - “I didn’t mean it that way, Hime,” said the Squire, earnestly. “Your - friends are my friends and we can all get along comfortably together just - as we are.” - </p> - <p> - “I’d ruther have the side-show privilege than a share in the big show,” - persisted the stubborn relative; “it’s your proposition, and I can take a - hint.” The presence of Peak and his mute suggestion of the old - associations were already having their effect on Hiram’s undisciplined - temperament. He had begun to wonder before this if getting acquainted - again with a brother after so many years was altogether a success. He had - been a bit ashamed in spite of Phineas’s candid forgiveness; this calm, - earnest, educated man made him feel ill at ease. Suddenly, he realised - perfectly why he had clutched at this stroller and hauled him into this - haven. - </p> - <p> - Hiram always acted first and reflected afterwards. He knew now that he had - seized upon this man to hold him between his brother and himself, as he - would have interposed a shield. He had anticipated that his brother would - interfere in his resolution to “make Coll Willard curl.” For weeks he had - been dreading the hour when Phineas would come to him for an - understanding. No man knew better than he what the Look grit was, and as - he had fully made up <i>his</i> mind to carry out his plan of vengeance, - and realised that the Squire would as vigorously oppose him, he had been - trembling each noon and night for many days, as he sat upon the porch and - watched the lawyer’s approach. - </p> - <p> - Now he stood up close beside the amiable giant. - </p> - <p> - “Sime and me is pretty close chums, Phin,” he said, “and we shall be - together all the time talkin’ mighty busy, and it ain’t in no ways right - for us to be gabblin’ round where you be and takin’ your mind off’n your - business. So I’ll have another cook-stove set up in my part and we won’t - trouble you a mite.” - </p> - <p> - He took Peak by the arm and drew him away with some eagerness. - </p> - <p> - “I want you to come in and see if Imogene remembers you, Sime. Then we’ll - look over the carts.” - </p> - <p> - Avery had been crowding up closely, mutely appealing for an introduction. - His jealousy was aroused by the attention that was shown to this new - arrival, and he followed them toward the barn as they started away. - </p> - <p> - “Say, look-a-here, Figger-Four,” said Hiram, whirling on him and speaking - with a gruffness that wounded Avery’s devoted heart, “you get back onto - your job, there, and you mind it dern close from this time on. I don’t - want you trailin’ me no more. You keep your place after this.” - </p> - <p> - The cripple stood gazing after Hiram until he had slammed the barn door - behind him. Then he settled slowly down upon his short leg and turned to - the Squire a face on which there was astonishment as well as grief. - </p> - <p> - “Seems like I never seen a changeabler man,” he observed. - </p> - <p> - The lawyer looked at the discarded companion a little while, and the poor - fellow’s distress was so sincere that he pitied him, even in his own - sorrow. - </p> - <p> - “Don’t mind it too much, Avery,” he said. “Hiram has had a good many - things happen in his life to sour him and spoil his disposition. Some day - he’ll find out who his real friends are and then you and I will have our - innings.” - </p> - <p> - He put his hands behind his back and walked into the house, and Avery went - on with his varnishing. At first his strokes were slow and his face was - melancholy. But as he pondered on his insult, his brush flicked faster and - soon he was slapping away at a lively gait, keeping time to a song that he - hummed, the last two lines running: - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - “Good boy Phin, he don’t raise time, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - But pepper sass is hot and hell’s in Hime."- - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XI—THE COMBINATION THAT PROVED TOO MUCH - </h2> - <h3> - FOR SQUIRE PHIN’S “LOOK TEMPER” - </h3> - <p class="indent15"> - “Let cats and dogs delight to fight, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - For ’tis their cross-patch natur’ to; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - To wallop humans is not right, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - But—wal, there’s things ye have to do!” - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - —From “Meditations of Deacon Burgess.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he next morning - the Squire was busy at the cook-stove at daybreak. He had joyfully turned - old Aunt Rhoda over to Hiram’s <i>ménage</i>, and he relished the idea - that he could resume his own way of living. As he tied on his canvas apron - he reflected contritely that perhaps he was feeling a bit too good about - being alone again. It wasn’t wholly brotherly. - </p> - <p> - Then in his mind he laid it all to Aunt Rhoda’s cooking. - </p> - <p> - She had frizzled the bacon into black chips and fried the steak until it - would do for a boot-tap, and when the Squire had expostulated, had - defiantly told him that he’d better stick to his law books and not try to - tell her, after sixty years at the cook-stove, how to get up “a mess of - vittles.” She had obliged him to eat huge hot dinners at noon that made - him as sleepy as a stuffed anaconda for hours as he sat in his arm-chair - in the office, trying to read his books. She had expected him to make out - a supper on plum preserves and hot cream of tartar biscuits, and he had - already felt the first gnawings of dyspepsia. - </p> - <p> - “Now for my steak!” he said aloud. It was a generous slice, thick as a - cushion and bordered with the cream-hued fat that Aunt Rhoda obstinately - threw away when she pared his steak into thinner slices in order to fry - them into parchment-like strips. - </p> - <p> - It sizzled on the grid cheerily, the coffee—with its heaping - “measure for the pot” and two for himself—gave forth an odour that - promised better than the old housekeeper’s slaty-hued brew, and he was - just cracking his eggs for his omelet when there was a rap at the door. - </p> - <p> - The Squire called an invitation over his shoulder, and the visitor came - in. It was the Mayo youth. His hair, that was usually slicked so smoothly, - was tousled and it hung in strings about his face. He had evidently run - all the way up the street, for he was out of breath and panted with open - mouth like a dog as he thrust toward the Squire a bit of paper that he - pinched by one corner. - </p> - <p> - “Lay it down on the table,” directed the lawyer, shortly. “Can’t you see - that both my hands are full?” - </p> - <p> - The young man stumbled toward him and shoved the paper into his hands, - evidently unconscious that the Squire had spoken. It fell into the bowl - and the lawyer picked it out gingerly, muttering his ire. - </p> - <p> - Mayo then grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, trying to utter - intelligible speech, but he could only blubber and hiccup. - </p> - <p> - “You infernal calf,” stormed the lawyer; “sit down in that chair and get - your breath and let me alone!” He pushed the youth across the room and - plumped him down with a thud that snapped his open jaws together. - </p> - <p> - “She’s gug-gug-gone, Squire Look!” Mayo managed to squeak. - </p> - <p> - The lawyer shook the paper to free it of the egg, looking ruefully toward - his bowl as he did so. Then he read the note, his brows knotting. - </p> - <p> - “<i>Deer Wart: my laddy mother has come for me & i have had to go with - hur. i have gorn into a brighter wurld. soe yon needent hunt for me corse - i shant ever be found, with love Rissy.”</i> - </p> - <p> - “She’s dead,” squalled the husband, staggering to his feet. “She’s jumped - into the water somewhere. You know ev’rything, Squire.7 You’re the only - friend I’ve truly got to find her for me.” He seized the lawyer by the arm - and tried to drag him away. - </p> - <p> - “Sit down, I tell you!” commanded the Squire, and again he thrust the - young man down into the chair. He read the letter again. - </p> - <p> - “Have you shown this to anyone else?” he demanded. - </p> - <p> - “No, not to a soul. I’ve run right to you, Squire. I know you can find - her, but she’s dead. Oh, where has she gone?” - </p> - <p> - “She may have gone straight up or she may have gone straight down,” - growled the lawyer. “What are you sitting there gaping and goggling like - that for? When did she go? When did you miss her? Did she take her - clothes?” - </p> - <p> - “I woke up this morning and found her gone,” wailed the youth. “She went - in the night. She’s dead. She’s gone with her lady mother jest as she said - she’d do.” - </p> - <p> - “If you ever say lady mother to me again I’ll cuff your ears,” stormed the - Squire. “Or if you mention this to anyone until I give you permission I’ll - boot you clear to Brickett’s store and back again. Do you think you - understand that?” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” whimpered the youth. - </p> - <p> - “Not to a soul! Finding your wife depends on it.” - </p> - <p> - “Can’t I go drag in the Potter brook?” - </p> - <p> - “You stay here in this house. You are going to eat some of this breakfast - first of all.” - </p> - <p> - “I never can eat nothin’ more till she’s found,” wailed Mayo, with a - canine whine in his nose. - </p> - <p> - But when the meal was on the table the Squire hustled him to a chair - beside it and roared at him until he ate. - </p> - <p> - “It will never do for me to say one word of sympathy to the poor devil,” - he pondered as he eyed the pitiful creature munching his food. - </p> - <p> - “If I loosen one bit he’ll be climbing all over me like a hungry dog. The - only way to handle him is to cuff him when he stands up on his hind legs.” - </p> - <p> - While the Squire ate he pondered. - </p> - <p> - “She went with Cap Nymphus Bodfish on the packet, that’s how she went.” - </p> - <p> - He glanced at the clock. - </p> - <p> - “Eight,” he mused. “Half the time since he has put in his auxiliary power - Bodfish doesn’t sail until nine. If he got away early this morning it - signifies something, that’s all! It isn’t the first time King Bradish has - hired him for dirty work.” - </p> - <p> - He started up and took his hat from the hook. “Wat,” he said, “you stay - here and wash up my dishes and make yourself useful until I come back. - Don’t you stir out of this house and don’t you say a word to anyone about - your wife being gone. If you disobey me I’ll quit you.” - </p> - <p> - He hurried out of the house and down the street. - </p> - <p> - It was necessary to go almost to the packet’s berth to determine whether - she was there, for the elms loomed high along the shore road. No masts - showed above the storehouse when he came in sight of it, but to assure - himself the Squire walked out on the wharf and peered around the corner of - the building. The packet’s berth was empty and there was no sign of her on - the narrow sea line at the mouth of the cove. - </p> - <p> - “Hard-Times” Wharff stood by one of the hawser piles, looking to sea. - </p> - <p> - “I wisht I was a garsoline ingine instead of a weather-vane, Squire Look,” - confessed the old man, regretfully. “The wind it bloweth where it listeth, - sayeth the Scriptur’s, but”—he sucked his tongue to imitate the - explosions of an engine, “tchock! tchock! tchock! Garsoline don’t have to - wait and list. It can go any time, day or night. I wisht I knowed better - how it works, but Nymp’ Bodfish wouldn’t let me aboard this mornin’ to see - how it does it.” - </p> - <p> - “Did he get away early, Uncle Aquarius?” - </p> - <p> - “I was down here at four to see whuther the sunrise was goin’ to be pink - or yaller, ’cause you know a yaller sunrise follerin’ on sun-dogs - means——” - </p> - <p> - “Let the weather stand for a moment,” broke in the Squire, a bit - impatiently. “What time was it when Bodfish sailed?” - </p> - <p> - “Break o’ day, no wind but garsoline, oil on the heave, and ‘Hard-Times’ - went aboard with him wrapped in a shawl. And he wouldn’t let me come on to - see the tchock, tchock, tchocker.” - </p> - <p> - The Squire’s suspicions required no further confirmation. He hastened away - up the wharf. - </p> - <p> - “The sneak!” he hissed through set teeth. “The pup!” But he did not refer - to Captain Nymphus Bodfish of the “Effort.” - </p> - <p> - The man that was in his mind was just tying his horse at the post in front - of Brickett’s store, and as the Squire approached, hurrying up the road, - he shook the dust from his gloves and started leisurely along ahead of - him, blandly oblivious of the other, to all appearances. - </p> - <p> - “Good-morning, Bradish,” said the lawyer, curtly, as he came up behind - him. He slackened his pace for a moment. Then he set his lips as though to - hold back something that he had intended to say, and hastened past. - </p> - <p> - “Business seems to be rushing with you this morning,” observed Bradish, - with his tantalising drawl. The Squire walked on. - </p> - <p> - “I say, Look!” The man’s tone was insolent. The lawyer’s evident anxiety - to avoid him spurred his bravado. “You’ve put your nose into my affairs - this time so far that you can’t pull it out by dodging me.” The Squire - held up and the man came close to him. “What do you mean, Bradish?” - </p> - <p> - “I mean that the other evening you made me the laughing-stock of the - gossips of this town by stepping in between me and the lady I was - escorting. You have compromised her, and now her father——” - </p> - <p> - “Look here, my fellow,” roared the lawyer, “my family isn’t a very patient - one, and you have got to about your limit with me. I never intended to - pass another word with you, for it’s getting to be dangerous for both of - us. But when you talk of my companionship, compromising any lady, I’m - going to put you before your own eyes as just what you are in a community. - You’re a low-lived, dirty hound that this very morning has stolen another - man’s wife and sent her away by Bodfish’s underground railroad, as you’ve - done once before if the truth were known.” Bradish’s face was purple with - rage, but he looked the Squire straight in the eye. - </p> - <p> - “So you’ve become a lunatic along with your other qualifications! Now tell - me what you mean or I’ll post you for a blackmailer.” - </p> - <p> - “I mean,” blurted the lawyer, “that it is your money that has hired - Bodfish to carry Rissy Mayo out of town to-day, and it’s your money that - she has in her pocket to pay railroad fare from Square Harbour to the - place where you’re sending her.” - </p> - <p> - Bradish snapped his fingers under his accuser’s nose. - </p> - <p> - “That for your slander!” he cried. He started along the walk, but whirled - and came close to Look. “There’s one thing I want to say to you,” he - growled, “and it’s this—you seem bound and determined to plaster me - with slander and it’s beneath my dignity to defend myself. And now you are - working up a plot against me. You have heard that I was going to leave - to-night for New York on business for Judge Willard and myself, and——” - </p> - <p> - “I have heard nothing of the sort,” retorted the Squire, his eyes gleaming - dangerously. - </p> - <p> - “I say you have, and you must know I am going to his house now to discuss - it. But no matter about that. I say you have engineered a plot against me, - Look. You have fired that girl out of town and now you’ll turn around - to-morrow and take advantage of a business trip that I must make and - assert that I have run away with her. But I want to tell you now”—in - his passion he drove his palm down on the lawyer’s shoulder—“if you - dare to insinuate such a thing I’ll put you into State prison for criminal - libel. I shall at once explain your dirty trick to Judge Willard and his - daughter. And”—he drew back and looked at the Squire with malice in - his eyes—“I shall furthermore tell Judge Willard what interest you - have in this Mayo woman whom you have married off to a fool in order to - hide your own guilt, you cheap apology for a man and lawyer.” - </p> - <p> - The Squire stood immovable and stared at the man, his lips moving - wordlessly. But language refused to come. - </p> - <p> - For a few crowded seconds he almost admired the impudence of Bradish’s - bluff, yet its masterly audacity fairly paralysed him. - </p> - <p> - In the storm of his feelings words seemed useless. The thought of his own - impotence of defence, with this assailant in possession of Judge Willard’s - ear and confidence, the memory of his own sorrows of waiting, the woes of - the Mayo youth, whirled in his brain like torches. His fist tightened into - a hard lump, his arm throbbed and itched, and the next moment, with a - grunt, the Squire struck forward. - </p> - <p> - For the first and last time in his life Squire Phineas Look knocked a man - down, and for one wild moment the primal Adam in him gloried in the act. - He stood above Bradish with his arm poised and his fist smarting. - </p> - <p> - Then he looked up and beheld Sylvena Willard gazing at the miserable scene - from the piazza of the big house. - </p> - <p> - And he held down his head and walked away up the street, the hot flush of - shame on his face, a sob in his throat, and the gray blur of tears - replacing the red blur that had flamed there a moment before. He glanced - back once and saw Bradish going to her with his handkerchief pressed to - his face. - </p> - <p> - Hiram and his new friend were taking the air on the porch when he came - into the yard of the Look place. He tried to avoid them, but his brother - called to him. - </p> - <p> - “We saw you do it, Phin,” he said. “’Twas good work, but what had - he done to you?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Hiram,” mourned the Squire, “don’t make light of a terrible deed. Oh, - the Look temper—the Look temper! Thank God there are none of the - blood to follow us.” - </p> - <p> - He stumbled into the house with the feeble step of an old man. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XII—THE LIVELY FIRST APPEARANCE OF “THE LOOK BROTHERS - </h2> - <h3> - CONSOLIDATED MENAGERIE AND CIRCUS” - </h3> - <p class="indent20"> - “Allus was bound to grab right in, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - That was the cut of old Seth Blinn. - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Finger was stuck in ev’ry pie - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Or else he’d know the reason why; - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - But when he quit how people swore, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - For things was wuss’n they was before.” - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - —Ballads of “Queer Capers.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>y Judas,” remarked - Hiram, admiringly, to Peak for the tenth time since they had observed the - astonishing contretemps in the road, “I’m proud of that brother of mine. I - didn’t know ’twas in him. I was afraid he was only lawyer and - nothin’ else.” - </p> - <p> - He relighted his cigar. “I’ve got to own up to you, Sime, that we wasn’t - gettin’ along together the best that ever was. I thought he had got soaked - with too many sissy notions, and there’s nothin’ that makes a circus man - so sick as sissy notions. You know that! But I tell you, Sime, if he can - do a job like that and only holds out now as he’s commenced, him and me is - goin’ to get along fine after this.” - </p> - <p> - “He seemed to be feelin’ awful bad when he went into the house,” remarked - Peak, solicitously. - </p> - <p> - “I didn’t notice it,” cried Hiram; “well, if that’s the case, he’s got to - be chirked up. I don’t want him to lose any of his grip.” - </p> - <p> - And he hurried around the corner and entered the kitchen. - </p> - <p> - “What’s the matter, Phin?” he cried, bluffly. “There’s something on and - you might as well out with it. It’s the Looks together against the world—and - you know what the family is!” - </p> - <p> - “Enough of that, Hiram!” roared the Squire, thumping the table at which he - sat deep in thought, as his brother came in. Dishes fell off and were - smashed on the floor. He kicked the fragments impatiently. “The Looks are - rowdies, plug-uglies and street brawlers, and we ought to be ashamed to - lift our heads in the presence of decency and refinement. The trouble with - you is, you’re too much of a fool to know that you’re cheap—that - we’re all cheap. That’s the word—cheap!” - </p> - <p> - But Hiram’s good nature was not to be disturbed that morning. - </p> - <p> - “You’re one of the good old breed, even if you are chewed up just this - minute,” he replied cheerfully. “And whatever’s goin’ on now I’m goin’ to - be in it, Phin, and you can’t shake me. I’m your brother and you can’t cut - me out. Now, what is it?” - </p> - <p> - It was not to be resisted, this frank and honest anxiety to be of use, and - the Squire was sorely in need of counsel and aid. With a glance at the - Mayo youth; who was rubbing listlessly away at a saucepan, his misty and - unseeing gaze fixed on the far hills framed in the kitchen windows, the - lawyer drew his brother out of the room into the yard. - </p> - <p> - “What’s the matter with your friend, Phin?” inquired the showman. “He acts - like a wax figger with clock-work in him.” - </p> - <p> - The lawyer explained rapidly. - </p> - <p> - “You ain’t goin’ to stop her, be ye?” asked Hiram when he had listened. - </p> - <p> - “I’m not goin’ to let that hound break up that little family,” insisted - the Squire. “Look at that poor, heart-broken boy in that kitchen and then - tell me if he is to be robbed in such a fashion.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, he’ll beller like a new-weaned calf for a day or so,” said Hiram, - calmly. “But he’ll get over it and be better off, like the rest of us,” he - added with bitterness. “I’ll go and tell him a few things and show up what - women are in this world and give him a couple horns of whisky and in an - hour I’ll have him singin’ ‘Glory, hallelujah,’ and glad she’s gone.” He - started away briskly, but the lawyer pulled him back roughly. - </p> - <p> - “One member of our family has tried an experiment on that poor devil and - it has half-killed him. Now don’t you go in there and finish the job. - You’re not an expert on heart matters, Hime.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I’ll fetch her back, then,” cried Hiram, unabashed. “You can have - anything you want. It’s only to say the word.” - </p> - <p> - The Squire looked at him. - </p> - <p> - “Bodfish won’t land her this side of the railroad at Square Harbour, of - course?” asked Hiram. - </p> - <p> - “Bodfish isn’t a deep knave,” said the lawyer. “He simply got away early - to avoid observation at this end. He will land her there probably for the - one-o’clock train, west.” - </p> - <p> - “Simple matter, then. Telephone the police to arrest her and lock her up - till we come.” - </p> - <p> - “And have the scandal and gossip and disgrace spread from here to - Hackenny, and the <i>Oracle</i> and people’s mouths full of it! That would - be saving the reputation of the Mayo family with a vengeance, Hiram.” - </p> - <p> - The showman took off his tall hat and fondled the bare spot on his head. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, it’s got to be a fly-by-night, come-back-by-dark job, eh?” he - observed. “Disappearin’ lady trick! Touch the button and she’s gone. Touch - the button and back she comes. You only think she’s gone and she ain’t - been gone at all! A very pretty little trick—-and thank you kindly - for your attention, ladies and gents, one and all!” - </p> - <p> - “It isn’t any time to joke, Hiram,” complained the Squire. “I must ride - across country and get that girl. The old mare can’t do it. Will you lend - me one of your horses?” - </p> - <p> - “No.” - </p> - <p> - The showman turned a quizzical gaze into his brother’s pained and puzzled - eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Now you think I’m a hog, don’t you, Phin? But I ain’t. I’m your brother - Hime, gruff and tough, but always ready in a time of trouble when the - famly’s concerned. Now you just stay here and keep your wax figger in - there from falling down and bustin’ in two and lettin’ all that’s inside - him run out. You understand! You want the celebrated invisible lady trick - worked at Square Harbour, eh? Then you for your job and me for mine! There - are some things that <i>you</i> can’t tell <i>me</i> how to do.” - </p> - <p> - He trotted clumsily around the corner and entered into earnest - conversation with Peak on the piazza. Both men hurried to the barn. - </p> - <p> - Squire Phin gazed after them with some anxiety. He had often had good - reason to doubt Hiram’s tact. He dreaded to have that hot-headed - individual start on a mission where so much finesse was required. And yet - he hesitated about undertaking the task himself and leaving the blundering - and irresponsible husband to stir up the village, as he certainly would do - if left to his own devices. - </p> - <p> - The youth was at the sink, still rubbing the same saucepan. - </p> - <p> - “He might stand there till night unless some one poked him,” mused the - Squire. “I must take chances that Hime can manage him while I’m gone. I - can’t let anyone else do the job at the other end. It needs——” - </p> - <p> - He had been pondering the matter longer than he had realised. The tumult - of gruff shoutings in the barn and in the rear, where the circus equipment - was stored, in its new building, had been increasing. Now around the - corner of the barn, with clank of whiffle-tree and jingle of harness and - ruck-te-chuck of axle boxes, came one of the vans, smart in new paint and - varnish. Four horses were drawing it. - </p> - <p> - Across the yard they came on the trot. Hiram and his friend loomed on the - box, and their plug hats loomed above them. - </p> - <p> - “She’ll come back invisible, Phin,” called Hiram, swirling his whip above - his head to uncoil the lash. - </p> - <p> - “You’re not going after that girl in any such outlandish fashion,” roared - the Squire, running from the door-stoop. - </p> - <p> - “Don’t bother us,” shouted Hiram, and he cracked the lash over the heads - of the rearing leaders. “We’ve got less than four hours to make - twenty-five miles and there ain’t time for conversation. You for your job, - me for mine.” - </p> - <p> - The Squire was obliged to leap back out of the way of the plunging horses. - But he ran after the van as it roared down into the road, yelling appeal - and protest. - </p> - <p> - “We’ll fix it,” Hiram shrieked over his shoulder as the horses began to - gallop. - </p> - <p> - The Squire stopped in the middle of the road, shaking his fists after the - turn-out as it went around the bend at the alders in a cloud of dust. - </p> - <p> - “Fix it, you damnable fool!” he gasped in his impotent rage. “You’ll fix - it forever. Of all the infernal idiots in the way of a brother that a man - ever had! Roaring through Square Harbour with a circus cart and four - horses! Oh! Oh!” - </p> - <p> - In his fury—the Look fury of which he was so ashamed—he kicked - a stone out of the soil, picked it up and cast it after the distant van, - which was now far out of sight. - </p> - <p> - “A secret errand,” he muttered, blushing at his juvenile act. “It will be - a wonder if he doesn’t get out hand-bills.” - </p> - <p> - Avery’s voice behind him made him turn quickly. - </p> - <p> - “I’m pesky glad you’ve driv’ the two of ’em out of town,” he said, - with grim satisfaction. “There wa’n’t either of ’em any good to the - place, and I’m sayin’ it to you, even if one of ’em is your own - brother.” - </p> - <p> - The Squire walked back into the yard without replying. “Figger-Four” - hopped along beside him. - </p> - <p> - “I’ve come up to resign,” he continued. “I wish I could have told him so - to his face. I was goin’ to inform him that I wouldn’t work another hour - for him, not if he was the Great Kajam of Pee-ru and paid me five dollars - a second. He owes me two dollars and a half as it is, and I want you to - collect it for me, Squire.” - </p> - <p> - “My brother hasn’t gone away,” snapped the lawyer from the door-stoop. He - wanted the man to leave. - </p> - <p> - “If that wa’n’t goin’ away, then what do you call it?” squealed Avery, - snapping up to his full height and pointing his hand at the turn of the - road. “He wasn’t comin’, was he, with his four hosses and his circus - cart?” - </p> - <p> - “You go home and keep still,” commanded the Squire. “Hiram will be here - to-morrow and will pay you if he owes you anything.” - </p> - <p> - He went into the kitchen and slammed the door. - </p> - <p> - “If the Looks can’t act out hogs when they’re a mind to, then I don’t want - a cent,” growled Avery, scowling at the door. “But they ain’t goin’ to - cheat me out of two dollars and a half, not if the court knows herself, - and she thinks she do.” - </p> - <p> - After another surly look at the closed door he went around the barn. The - other vans were in their usual place. - </p> - <p> - “There’s property enough left. I can sue and attach,” pondered the - creditor. - </p> - <p> - “Another thing about Hime, he’s a durn liar,” he went on mumbling. “He’s - been telling me right along that his el’phunt is so much in love with him - that she’d make a kick-up if he went away and left her. She ain’t makin’ - no great stir near as I can see.” - </p> - <p> - He peered in through the big door at the rear of the barn. - </p> - <p> - Imogene had evidently been roused from her ordinary contemplative and calm - mood by the routing out of the horses and their hasty departure. She stood - now, twitching her ears impatiently and listening with an occasional - hollow grunt of distrust. She peered at the four empty stalls with - uneasiness in her little eyes and surveyed the four horses that still - remained, with something like reassurance. Then she listened some more. It - was evident, even to so obtuse an observer as Avery, that she was - momentarily expecting the showman to come back for the other horses, and - so long as they remained she considered them proof that she was not - abandoned. - </p> - <p> - Avery decided that this was so, muttering his convictions to himself as he - stood and watched her. - </p> - <p> - “I’m a blame good mind to try her,” he said. “I don’t believe she gives a - tophet for him, any more’n anyone else in the world does. I can prove him - out a liar along with the rest, and I’ll tell the folks so. I’ll run him - into the ground! You watch me! There’s folks that think as how they can - set on Sam Av’ry, but I’ll show ’em that they can’t—not, and - keep their reppytations. I’m only a poor cripple and I can’t fight the way - some folks do, but I’ve got a tongue in my head, and as soon as I’ve - proved some things you jest watch me.” - </p> - <p> - Thus soliloquising, he led the four horses, one by one, out of the barn - through the rear door, knotted their halters around their necks and sent - them down into the field with a slap on the flank. They frolicked away, - glad of a run in the open. - </p> - <p> - When the last one went out of the barn the elephant said good-bye with a - melancholy “roomp.” She surged once more at her chains and the sill beams - creaked. Then she settled back and eyed Avery hopefully when he came close - to her. - </p> - <p> - “He’s allus told me you was more’n half human,” said Avery, addressing - her. “It’s prob’ly more of his lies. I’ve heard him talkin’ to you and he - said you could understand human language. Another lie prob’ly. But if you - can understand, then take this and chaw on it a spell; your man has run - away and them’s his horses gone a-chasin’ after him, as you can see for - yourself. He ain’t never comin’ back any more. He’s robbed four banks and - killed three men and you ought to be ashamed of him. They’re goin’ to - build a treadle for you and make you run a thrash-in’ machine and earn - your livin’. There! If you can understand human talk there’s something - that will int’rest you for a minit or two.” - </p> - <p> - He stood back and gazed at her triumphantly. - </p> - <p> - The animal had been lifting her feet uneasily for some moments. Now she - gazed out through the door where the horses had disappeared and moaned - pitifully. With the sagacity of a veteran she seemed to sniff the fact - that her master was not on the premises. To assure herself she raised her - trunk and began to trumpet the call that he had always answered. After - each echoing roar she hearkened. No reply came, and each succeeding appeal - was more insistent and more frantic. - </p> - <p> - Avery backed to the door with considerable precipitancy. - </p> - <p> - The elephant began to crouch and strain at her chains. The old beams - creaked more ominously and there were crackings. - </p> - <p> - “I was only foolin’ you, Imogene,” Avery faltered. “He ain’t gone at all.” - </p> - <p> - The elephant stood up on her hind legs and tugged at the chains that - confined her fore feet. One of them snapped. - </p> - <p> - “Honest to Gawd!” shouted “Figger-Four.” The situation frightened him. - Palermo with a wild elephant rampant in it would hear of his visit to the - barn and would suspect and blame him. Imogene thrashed about more - viciously. - </p> - <p> - “There ain’t a word of truth in what I said about him. He’s right handy.” - But when she snapped one of the hind-leg chains he quavered, “He was lyin’ - to me! She don’t understand what you say to her!”’ - </p> - <p> - He ran out to see where the horses were, thinking that their return might - reassure the great beast. But they were far down in the field, scampering - about. There was the “yawk” of drawing nails within, and the side of the - barn shivered. - </p> - <p> - “She’s a-goin’ to get loose! She’s goin’ to rip us all to pieces!” - </p> - <p> - He hopped around to the front of the barn in the frantic hope that some - kind of aid would present itself. “Hard-Times” Wharff, with an instinct - that never failed when there was trouble on, stood across the road, his - gaze on the barn. - </p> - <p> - Then came an inspiration to “Figger-Four.” Since Imogene had settled in - Palermo he had taken especial interest in all literature relating to - elephants. He suddenly remembered an item he had seen in the miscellany of - the county <i>Oracle</i>. - </p> - <p> - It was stated there that elephants were singularly susceptible to the - soothing influence of music. - </p> - <p> - “Have you got your flute along, ’Quarius?” squalled Avery. - </p> - <p> - The human weather-vane pulled it out and waved it. - </p> - <p> - “Then, for the Lord’s sake, hurry acrost here with it. You may save lives - and property.” - </p> - <p> - It was at that moment that Squire Phin realised that something out of the - ordinary was occurring on his premises. He came out of the kitchen-door - just in time to behold “Figger-Four” and “Hard-Times” hustling around the - corner of the barn. A moment later he heard the melancholy and wavery - notes of the flute, and hurried into the barn by the way of the tie-up - door just in time to witness the climax of Avery’s attempt at - elephant-taming. - </p> - <p> - “Figger-Four” was holding Uncle Wharff at the big door almost by main - force, and the old man, in spite of his fright, was trying his best to - play. But his goggling eyes were too busy with the distracted Imogene, who - was now occupied with her last leg-chain, which was attached to an upright - beam supporting an end of the scaffold. Amidst her hollow roarings the - feeble tones of the flute wailed like a cricket’s chirpings in a tornado. - </p> - <p> - If anything were needed to add to the exasperation of the desolated - Imogene it was this mocking presence in the barn-door. With a last plunge - she pulled the beam from under the scaffold and made for the door, - sweeping her trunk at the men in her path. But the dragging log impeded - her for a moment until she shook it out of the bight of chain. Avery and - Uncle Wharff rolled over the driveway and crawled under the barn, and - Imogene strode down across the field pursuing the horses. - </p> - <p> - “Perhaps I didn’t play the right tune,” the Squire heard “Hard-Times” gasp - under the bam in reply to an angry growl from Avery. But he didn’t wait to - interrogate them. That elephant was abroad, evidently with mind determined - on mischief, and he felt that his first duty was to secure a band of - elephant hunters in the village and start them on the trail. - </p> - <p> - When he turned into the street from the yard the parrot vigorously snapped - a bar of his cage and yelled after him, “Hey, Rube!” - </p> - <p> - This final and unconscious touch of satire was too much for Squire Phin’s - sense of the ludicrous. He turned in his tracks and surveyed the old - homestead behind the poplars. - </p> - <p> - “Headquarters of the Look Brothers’ Grand Consolidated Circus and - Menagerie,” he muttered, a smile creasing his cheeks even while he - frowned. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know whether to laugh, cry or swear damnation!” - </p> - <p> - Then he hurried on to round up his elephant posse. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIII—THE “COME-UPPANCE” OF CAPTAIN NYMPHUS BODFISH - </h2> - <h3> - OF THE PACKET “EFFORT” - </h3> - <p class="indent15"> - “I’m a serious-minded man, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - I have sailed from old Cape Ann - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - For fifty years, and I’ve braved as much as ary a mortal can. - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - I ain’ afraid of the stormy sea, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Nor critters that swim it, whatever they be, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - But a witch of a woman is what floors me.” - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - —Sea-song of the “Baches of Bucksport.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he Palermo packet, - “Effort,” rocked slowly on the refuse-strewn ooze in her berth at - Merrithew’s wharf, Square Harbour, her gray, weather-streaked sides - rubbing at the barnacles on the piles. On the upper step of her cuddy - companionway sat her skipper, Captain Nymphus Bodfish, rubbing his raspy - palm over his bristly gray beard, the little curls of which were much like - barnacles, too. - </p> - <p> - “I tell ye, set quiet,” he growled down the companionway. “I ain’t run - packet here for ten years not to know when trains leave or not to know how - to telefoam for a hack when I want one. That hack will be here ha’f-past - twelve and it will get you to the deppo plenty in time.” - </p> - <p> - In a little while the complaining whine of a woman’s voice came up the - companionway again. The captain impatiently twitched at a leather chain - and flipped a big silver watch out of his pocket. - </p> - <p> - “Ten minits arter twelve, if ye’ve got to know,” he grumbled. “And it was - eight minits arter twelve when you asked before. Now I ain’t no town clock - to set here passin’ down time to ye ev’ry second or two. I say you’ll get - to that deppo. So set quiet.” - </p> - <p> - But in a little while the complaining voice came up once more—the - voice of a woman who was hoarse with much weeping. - </p> - <p> - “It ain’t no time now to be wishin’ that,” he snapped impatiently. “Your - wishin’ wants to be all done up ahead when you make up your mind to run - away from your husband. It’s all been fixed and arranged and you’ve agreed - to do thus and so, and now there ain’t nothin’ to do but set quiet, set - quiet, I tell you.” - </p> - <p> - Rather abstractedly he fingered in his waistcoat pocket and pulled the - corner of a bill above its edge. He noted with fresh satisfaction, though - he had looked at that bill at least a dozen times during the forenoon, - that the figures in the corner were “20.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes, it’s all been fixed and arranged,” he repeated with additional - firmness, “and you said you’d go and you’ve gone, so now what is the use - of cry-babyin’?” He craned his neck and looked up the long alley that led - from the wharf to the street. “Hack will prob’ly git here a little ahead - of time,” he muttered, “and I’ll be blamenation glad if it does. There’s - nothin’ so cussed aggravatin’ to have ’round as a woman that can’t - keep her mind set on one thing more’n fourteen seconds at a time. It will - be good riddance when her gown-tail goes over the rail.” Again the voice - complained below. - </p> - <p> - “Now I want a puffick understandin’ about this thing,” snarled Captain - Bodfish. “You want to stop whifflin’ back and forth, like a sheet at - come-about, and fill full on one tack or t’other. When that hack comes you - want to be ready to step into it, free will and no caterwaulin’s. I don’t - propose to lug you out. It’s your own bus’ness and ’tain’t mine. - But I’ve contracted to git you to that deppo and you’ve taken par-sage - with that understandin’—and it’s to that deppo that I deliver you. - Then you can go to Tophet, home or Hackenny so soon’s you’re off’n my - hands.” - </p> - <p> - The voice came promptly when he finished. There was a question. - </p> - <p> - “No, s’r! Not a dum word of advice from me,” barked the skipper. “You’ve - rooted your own hole and now you lay in it. I don’t never advise folks - about their own business. If I said to go back to Wat Mayo or said to run - away to where King Bradish is sendin’ you, you’d wish you’d done t’other, - whatever one you done, and then I’d get the blame.” - </p> - <p> - He half rose and craned his neck again. It was at the noon hour and the - drays were silent and the hum of business had ceased in the storehouses - along the wharf. In the stillness he heard the rapid roll of some heavy - vehicle on the stones of the street to which the alley admitted. - </p> - <p> - “Here comes your hack,” he said. - </p> - <p> - The voice rose in shrill protest. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, you will <i>go</i>, too!” he bawled, angrily. “I ain’t goin’ to have - you left on my hands. It ain’t in the bargain.” - </p> - <p> - The next moment four horses swung around the corner into the alley. - </p> - <p> - “Jee-hosophat!” whistled the skipper. “They’re sartinly putting on style - in the hackin’ line.” - </p> - <p> - Then the van appeared, but it was too far away for Captain Bodfish to see - just what it was. - </p> - <p> - “Blast ’em,” he snorted, “I didn’t telefoam for no furnitur’ to be - moved.” He clumped across the deck and stood at the rail, peering under - his palm. - </p> - <p> - Captain Nymphus Bodfish of the packet “Effort” had never met Hiram Look, - having scornfully refused to “go up and hang ’round a peep-show.” - He was not familiar, as were his townsmen, with the showman’s vans and - horses. - </p> - <p> - His slow comprehension did not connect this apparition in Square Harbour - with anything that could have come out of Palermo. - </p> - <p> - “They’re both of ’em wearin’ plug hats,” he soliloquised as the - outfit came rattling down the alley, “but ’tain’t no hearse, - painted and gew-gawed up like that.” - </p> - <p> - The equipage made a gallant sweep past the end of the storehouse near the - packet’s berth and halted at the edge of the dock. Hiram leisurely tucked - away his whip in the socket beside the seat, passed the reins to Peak and - jumped to the ground. - </p> - <p> - “We didn’t have to waste a minute askin’ the way, Cap,” he remarked, - cheerfully. “I find that the ‘Effort’ puts up at the same old dock, even - if you <i>are</i> a new skipper.” - </p> - <p> - “Ain’t anything very new about ten years o’ runnin’,” returned Bodfish, - rather surlily, for the stranger’s easy familiarity nettled him. - </p> - <p> - “Well, it makes you new to me,” said Hiram. “Howsomever, I ain’t got time - to swap a great deal of talk.” He pulled out his watch. “I’ve got - thutty-five minutes to git to the station if she ain’t here. If she is - here I want her.” - </p> - <p> - Captain Bodfish’s jaw dropped in his astonishment, and his rolling eye now - caught for the first time the lettering on the upper panel of the van: - “Leviathan Circus and Menagerie, H. Look, Prop.” - </p> - <p> - “Yes,” went on Hiram, noting the skipper’s gathering scowl, “we’ve come - round by land per the Inlet road, crooked as an angle-worm and up and down - like a dash chum. It took sweat and axle-grease, but we’re here, Cap, glad - to see you and wishin’ you all the compliments of the season. Now, brief - and to the point—is the lady aboard that you took out of Palermo - this mornin’?” - </p> - <p> - “None o’ your bus’ness,” replied Captain Bodfish, promptly and - emphatically. - </p> - <p> - “Then I’ll come aboard and look. That’ll save me time and you the wear and - tear on your mouth.” - </p> - <p> - But Captain Bodfish leaped to the gang-plank and straddled himself there. - </p> - <p> - “No you don’t come aboard no packet o’ mine,” he cried. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, then she’s here,” said Hiram. “They’re easy, these mossback fellers, - Sime,” he added, turning to Peak. “It’s the old pickpocket trick. Jab a - jay in the crowd and he flaps his hand onto where he’s carrying his - wallet. Then all you have to do is to pick it.” - </p> - <p> - Bodfish’s rage was gathering fast. - </p> - <p> - Hiram stepped upon the wharf-end of the plank. - </p> - <p> - “I say ye can’t come aboard,” shouted the skipper. “You ain’t no policeman - and you ain’t no custom officer.” He pulled a marline-spike from a knot of - rope at the rail. “You come in reach of me, you circus man, and I’ll drive - that plug hat down so fur oh your shoulders that folks will have to slice - it off with a can-opener.” - </p> - <p> - “Ain’t your works gittin’ a little heated?” sarcastically queried Hiram. - “Now, there’s a young woman aboard that bo’t that I’ve come after, and I’m - goin’ to have her. You don’t know me and I don’t know you. You think you - can stop me. I know you can’t. Now you’d better come over to my opinion of - the case, Cap’n Nymp’ Bodfish, and save further wear and tear.” - </p> - <p> - But the irate captain only stepped out on the plank and whirled his spike. - “You ain’t got your pitchfork to-day, and you ain’t got no Klebe Willard - to deal with, either.” - </p> - <p> - “No, but I’ve got my grapplers,” shouted Hiram, and before the skipper - could stir stump he snapped forward, grabbed the gang-plank and jerked it - toward him. At the same time he tipped it and the captain of the “Effort” - went down ’longside with a “kerplunko” that sent the turbid water - above the wharf’s edge like the spout of a geyser. Hiram made two bounds, - one to the rail and one to the deck. - </p> - <p> - “Here, Mayo woman,” he cried, as he clumped down the companionway into the - dim cabin, “no arguments, no back talk.” - </p> - <p> - He seized her by the arm, rushed her up the steps and to the rail, and - fairly tossed her across the space to the wharf, over the head of Captain - Bodfish, who was blowing water from his mouth and nose, and clambering - painfully up the side of the craft. - </p> - <p> - “You ain’t cool yet. Take another dip,” cried Hiram, and he put his broad - boot down on Bodfish’s head and sent him under again. - </p> - <p> - The girl swayed dizzily on the wharf, but the showman had her in his grasp - the next moment. He noted a hack bowling down the wharf and persons were - sauntering that way, attracted by the unusual spectacle of a circus van. - Without a moment’s hesitation he half-carried the woman to the rear of the - van, threw open the double doors, pushed her in on some blankets that were - spread on the floor, and closed and padlocked the opening. She was - uttering sharp cries, but he put his mouth close to the crack and growled - at her: - </p> - <p> - “You’re goin’ home, you little fool. But if you let one more yip out of - you I’ll deliver you to the first policeman I meet and tell him you’re an - eloper. Then it’s State prison for you.” - </p> - <p> - Her cries ceased and Hiram turned a bland face to the persons who had come - up. - </p> - <p> - Captain Bodfish had regained his vessel and was sitting on the rail, - dragging the water out of his eyes with his knuckles, and panting for - breath. The showman forestalled any compromising accusations. He went - close to the edge of the wharf, leaned over and said: - </p> - <p> - “Cap, you can’t afford to open your mouth. I can have you tarred and - feathered here in ten minutes if I let the crowd in on what you’ve tried - to do. I’m a son of a seacook on handlin’ a crowd.” - </p> - <p> - The skipper unclosed and shut his mouth like a fish, but he realised the - force of that warning. - </p> - <p> - Hiram went along and prepared to climb back upon his seat. As he set his - toe on the hub one of the crowd inquired suspiciously: - </p> - <p> - “If it ain’t a sassy question, mister, what was that critter that you was - putting into the cart here? We heard it squawkin’, but we couldn’t see - very well.” Hiram, his success making him amiable, smiled upon the - bystanders. - </p> - <p> - “Gents, I am both pleased and proud to tell you that I have now in this - van one of the most beautiful specimens of the five-finned American - mermaid that was ever captured on our stem and rock-bound coast.” - </p> - <p> - The zeal of the barker entered his spirit. It had been a long time since - he had faced an audience. - </p> - <p> - “This stupendous attraction, gents, that has just been secured for Look’s - Leviathan Menagerie is the only living specimen of the American - Mermaidissus in captivity to-day. She has flowing hair in which she wraps - herself as in a mantle of the purest silk, and she is fresh from the royal - courts of the king of the seas. She was captured off our aforesaid rocky - coast by the bravest sailor that ploughs the ocean blue”—Bodfish was - edging through the crowd, his face working with mighty wrath that he did - not dare to give rein to. The showman beamed on him. “Yes, gents, captured - in a single-handed conflict by that brave sailor, Cap’n Nymphus Bodfish, - of the ‘Effort.’ And now he will be pleased to give you full particulars - of that gigantic struggle in the waters of old ocean. As for me I shall - have to be movin’ on to where immense and delighted audiences await me.” - </p> - <p> - He started to climb over the wheel, tipping a wink at Peak, and the crowd - turned open-mouthed to Bodfish. The instant the showman’s back was turned - that infuriated individual rushed forward, dealt Hiram a mighty kick, and - when the showman turned, bonneted him in his tall hat, and then ran like a - deer off the wharf and across the decks of a nest of fishing schooners - that were packed in at one of the docks. - </p> - <p> - Hiram worked off his hat and straightened it, gazing after the fleeing - Bodfish without a word. But his face was gray and rigid with rage. Then he - climbed to his seat and gazed afresh on the skipper, scuttling across the - decks. - </p> - <p> - “Aforesaid brave and intrepid sailor seems to have had his brain turned by - his wonderful success as a mermaid capturer,” he grated. “It—it’s——” - he choked and paused. “It’s too bad!” he managed to growl at last, and - then snatched the reins from Peak’s hands and drove off up the alley at a - stiff pace, leaving a very much mystified crowd behind him. - </p> - <p> - “We’ll get out of this place as soon as pullin’ the braid and pushin’ the - webbin’ will do it,” he said to Peak as the van turned into the dingy - shore street of Square Harbour. “Ev’ry one here has got eyes hung out on - their cheeks like lobsters have,” he went on, glowering at the people on - the sidewalks. His amiability had departed suddenly. - </p> - <p> - “What ye goin’ to do to old Tarfinger?” asked Peak, who fully understood - what the showman was thinking about. - </p> - <p> - “It’s goin’ to take a good deal of prayer and meditation to plan it out, - Sime,” replied Hiram, slowly and menacingly. “Do you think that many of - them critters that stood round there knew who I was?” - </p> - <p> - “Ain’t your name on this cart bigger’n a fat woman sign on a side-show - banner?” - </p> - <p> - Hiram ground his teeth. - </p> - <p> - “There was a man kicked me once,” he related slowly, “and there wasn’t no - outsiders see him do it, either. And that man—but I ain’t any hand - to brag, Sime. All I say is that such a case as this needs prayer and - meditation, and a lot of it.” - </p> - <p> - They rode on in silence. There was no sound from within. - </p> - <p> - “We’ll stop up-country at some farmer’s place and bait,” said Hiram at - last, “and we’ll get into Palermo after dark. The invisible lady trick - will be played all right and there’s that much to say, but—I never - was kicked before in the face and eyes of a public audience, to have it - talked about from Clew to Erie and laughed over, and him get away! Oh, it - ain’t no common case, Sime. Don’t talk to me. Let me meditate.” - </p> - <p> - Therefore the ride along the highway that swept up around the broad Inlet - was one devoted wholly to introspection, both without and within the - rumbling van. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIV—THE PACT OF “ORPHAN HILL” - </h2> - <h3> - AND THE DIVAGATIONS OF DISCONSOLATE IMOGENE - </h3> - <p class="indent10"> - “I’ tell you ’bout that, mare of mine—the more you holler - ‘whoa!’ - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - I’ve taught the whelp to clench her teeth and h’ist her tail and go! - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - And when we got clus’ down to Clark’s, I thought for jest a sell, - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - I’d make believe we’d run away. So I began to yell, - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - And old man Pease he hugged his knees and gaffled to his pail, - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - And now, my boy, purraps you think that turn-out didn’t sail! ” - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - —“Narrative of Bart of Brighton. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>n the - mid-afternoon Hiram checked his weary horses on the swell of a hill that - overlooked a placid reach of farms. - </p> - <p> - “I guess we’ll stop and provender up at that first house, there, Sime,” he - stated. “I’m ’bout starved, and I reckon the plugs are, too. You - hold the reins a minute whilst I lay down a little law to the invisible - lady.” - </p> - <p> - He threw open the rear doors and surveyed the swollen and tear-streaked - features of ’Missy Mayo. She met his gaze for a moment only, and - then began to sob again. - </p> - <p> - “Ashamed of yourself, ain’t you?” the showman demanded. - </p> - <p> - She bobbed woful assent with her head and crooked her arm before her face. - </p> - <p> - “Women,” pursued Hiram, relentlessly, “are ostriches when they ain’t - wild-cats, and from me that knows ’em all and that’s been scratched - criss-cross by wild-cats and has owned ostriches and had a nat’rally sweet - and affectionate disposition soured by women’s actions, you can take that - say-so as gospel. It ain’t no advance agent’s talk. I’ve been with the - main show, and I <i>know</i>. You’re an ostrich. Take your head out from - under the chip and look at me.” - </p> - <p> - She obeyed, huddling herself on her knees on the blankets. - </p> - <p> - “I know just what you are goin’ to tell me if I begin to ask you - questions,” he said. “You’ll take on like a kitten with her tail in a - crack and tell me you are so, <i>so</i> sorry and that you’ll never do it - again, and that he promised you nice dresses and di’mond rings and nothin’ - to do except to let your poor, dear, oopsy-soopsy little hands grow white, - and so you couldn’t help yourself, and you tried to be good and love your - husband and stay at home, and you couldn’t, so there!” - </p> - <p> - “But I do love my husband,” she sobbed. “And that man did say all those - things to me, and he did say I had broken up my husband’s home with his - people and that they all hated me, and that my poor Wat would be better - off if I were to go away.” - </p> - <p> - “And so you thought it all over and cried off by yourself and planned how - noble it would be for you to leave him to be happy ever after, with his - folks boarding him, and you would go away into the wide, wide world and - sacrifice yourself just as that wife did that you’d read about who went - backward outdoors into the night with her black hood on—they allus - wear black hoods—waving her hands and sending back kisses toward the - bedroom where her husband was sleepin’, and sayin’, ‘Farewell, I go to - save thee!’ That was jest the whole story, wa’n’t it?” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Mr. Look,” began the girl, eagerly, “that was the truth of it—you - do know it all—you can appreciate——” - </p> - <p> - “Shut up,” roared the showman; “talk about prohibiting the sale of rum in - this State,” he snarled, glancing up at Peak; “they ought to make it a - jail crime to sell a dime novel to a woman unless she’s got cross eyes and - a club foot and a hare-lip—and then it wouldn’t allus be safe to let - her have one of ’em. There’s more cussedness sucked up out of one - of them such novels than you can get through straws at a bar. Now, Mrs. - Ostrich, I ain’t got any time to stand here and tell you how many kinds of - a byjoosly fool you are, for there’s a team li’ble to come along any - minute. But I’m goin’ to tell you sometime, and I’ve seen enough of the - world and of cheap renegades of men to make your hair curl when you think - what you’ve got out of. It’s me that’s goin’ to take you home in this cart—and - it’s me that thought up this way of gettin’ you there without ev’rybody - knowin’ that you run away and left your husband.” - </p> - <p> - The wife dragged herself on her knees to the opening and clasped her - hands. - </p> - <p> - “Mr. Look,” she wailed, “it’s all true what you say. But I ain’t ever had - any mother that I can remember. I didn’t have anyone to tell me the things - that a girl ought to know. I don’t blame you for talking hard to me. I - deserve it. But I want to do right. Indeed, I do, Mr. Look. If you’ll take - me home I’ll always stay there. I’m hungry to stay there. Oh, how I’ve - wished I hadn’t gone—wished so all this long day and I’ve cried my - eyes out wishing so. I know I don’t love anyone but my husband. Take me - back to him, Mr. Look, and I’ll never want to be anything but a true wife - to him again—never, never, never!” - </p> - <p> - Her fluttering hands grasped the sides of the van and she leaned her - convulsed face toward him. - </p> - <p> - “So your mother died when you was young?” Hiram inquired. His tone had - softened. - </p> - <p> - “I never knew who my mother was.” - </p> - <p> - “Mine died and left me under fourteen and Phin a baby,” said the showman, - looking off across the fields and blinking his eyes. “It’s sort of—sort - of startin’ anyone back-handed into the world without a mother to kind of - walk hand in hand with up to where the paths split. Bad for a man, worse - for a woman.” - </p> - <p> - There was silence for a little time, except for the | girl, who sobbed - with quick indrawings of the breath. - </p> - <p> - “Let’s see, Sime,” said Hiram, trying to keep his voice steady and - matter-of-fact, “I ain’t ever asked you how it was with your fam’ly. Was - you brought up by a mother?” - </p> - <p> - “I was bound out from an orphan asylum when I was eight,” replied the - giant, turning away his face and fingering the seam of a patch on his - knee. “A farmer took me and he made me wear pants made out of a butcher’s - frock, and I never got but five weeks’ schoolin’, ’cause I couldn’t - stand ’em laughin’ at me.” - </p> - <p> - “Three of us pretty much of a stripe,” sighed the showman. “Each of us - with an out of some kind. Nothin’ to be proud of, any of us. Can’t expect - much else, maybe! I tell ye, Sime, I know how you felt about the school - bus’ness. After they folded mother’s hands—and I can see ’em - folded now just as I did when I tiptoed into the settin’-room where they’d - laid her out—I didn’t have no more jelly tarts to set out on the - desk when I opened my dinner-pail at school, and I used to stay in at - recess so that the girls couldn’t see the holes in the seat of my pants.” - </p> - <p> - He stood and looked away and fingered the folds of skin on his wrinkled - neck as though there were an ache there. - </p> - <p> - “I’m glad to believe,” he said softly and brokenly, “that God ain’t mean - enough to let dead mothers ever know how their little gaffers get along - after their mother hands are folded and they can’t ’tend and do any - longer.” - </p> - <p> - After a little time he turned to the wife, and his eyes were wet. - </p> - <p> - “I ain’t all hard spots, sissy,” he affirmed impulsively. “Most often it’s - the softest places that have the hardest calluses over ’em. I’m a - pretty soft old fool, myself. Most think I ain’t, but I am. I’ve made my - mistakes and they was bad ones. Sime, there, has made just as bad ones as - me. You’ve made yours, sissy, but don’t make any more—don’t!” - </p> - <p> - He patted her cheek with a tenderness that no one ever saw before in Hiram - Look. - </p> - <p> - “We’ve sort of found out each other all at once. Let’s call this place - here ‘Orphan Hill’ and always remember it. Let’s kind of brace from now - on. We can’t be angels, none of us. We’ve been too much handicapped. But - we can brace!” - </p> - <p> - He didn’t seem to dare to trust himself to talk any longer, but closed the - doors on the girl and called to her that she must be very quiet while the - van stood in the farmer’s yard, explaining that he would secure food for - her. - </p> - <p> - Then he perched himself beside Peak and drove on, each busy with his own - thoughts. - </p> - <p> - The woman of the house promptly appeared at the door when the van swung - into the yard. - </p> - <p> - “Well, it’s best for you that you did stop on your way back,” she snapped. - “You never paid a single mite of attention to me when you went past this - morning, but kept goin’ like the mill-tail of Tophet. I said to my husband - that peddlers’ teams was gettin’ pretty stuck up, prancin’ past with four - horses and not payin’ no attention when, a lady comes to the door sacking - a bag of rags. Now here they be. Have you got your st’ilyards? I suppose - you have and that you cheat as much as——” - </p> - <p> - “That woman seems to be the open-faced, self-windin’ kind,” Hiram growled - to Peak through the corner of his mouth. Then he interrupted her. - </p> - <p> - “You’d better buy a good pair of far-sighted specs from the next peddler - that comes along this way, marm,” he suggested with some insolence. - “You’ll be able to tell the diff’rence, then, between a tin rag peddler or - a rag tin peddler, or whatever you call ’em, and two gentlemen - ridin’ out for pleasure to take the air. Now, to come to bus’ness—will - you sell me a baitin’ for my horses, and three lunches—two to be et - on the spot and one to be took away?” - </p> - <p> - Her first impulse, evidently, was to refuse this blunt request. But Hiram - waved a bill at her. She called a freckled youth from the barn and - continued to stare at the vehicle and the two strangers. - </p> - <p> - When the boy led away the horses, after Hiram and Peak had unhooked them - from the cart, the woman broke her silence and there was suppressed - excitement in her tones. - </p> - <p> - “I’ve got you placed. You’re the circus man that’s come back to live down - to P’lermo, and this is one of your carts, and you’ve come up here to help - catch that dratted el’phunt that’s been rampagin’ ’round here since - noon. You ain’t come none too soon, Mr. Circuser. You’ll have a nice bill - to pay in this neighbourhood—and you can start right in by settlin’ - with us first of all. You come here, the two of ye.” - </p> - <p> - In silent amazement the men followed her around the ell. - </p> - <p> - “There’s where he come through,” she rasped, pointing to two lengths of a - picket fence laid flat; “there’s where he went out.” On the opposite side - of the garden more lengths of fence were cast down. “Half the pickets - busted where he stepped on ’em! Three of our little Sopsyvine trees - knocked down, and there—look there!” - </p> - <p> - She had evidently reserved this climax. She pointed to the slope of a - little hillock. - </p> - <p> - “Two webs of ‘Fruit of the Loom’ that was bleach-in’, all trampled and - torn and gurried up! A ding-blamed el’phunt and a dozen men skyhootin’ - acrost herer without aye, yes or no and not payin’ the least attention to - anything underfoot! I say if you’re the circus man from P’lermo you’ve got - a good nice bill to settle in these parts.” - </p> - <p> - “<i>My</i> elephant!” demanded Hiram, amazedly, tapping himself with his - knuckles on his breast and staring from Peak to the woman. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know of any other fool that’s keepin’ el’phunts for pets or - raisin’ ’em for market,” she retorted. “If an old gray gob o’ meat - with ragged ears and dirty feet as big as saucepans—as you can see - by the smooches on my unbleached cotton—is your el’phunt, then it <i>is</i> - your el’phunt with a passul of howlin’ men after him, and my husband - chasin’ off along with the rest instead of stayin’ here and protectin’ his - home and his wife.” - </p> - <p> - “Do you suppose it’s Imogene got away?” gasped Hiram, staring at Peak. - </p> - <p> - “Well, for a guess I should say it was,” replied that friend, - unconsolingly. “Elephants are not as common as woodchucks around here.” - </p> - <p> - The two men stared away up the hillock and across the field to the fence - that bordered it. There was no need of asking the woman the course of the - parade. A huge gap in the fence and torn bushes in the adjacent woodlot - marked the route. - </p> - <p> - “I consider that a man that introduces el’phunts into a quiet country - neighbourhood is worse than he would be if he put damanite bumbs under - folks’ houses,” sputtered the woman. - </p> - <p> - “You just shut your mouth for a minute and let me think, will ye?” roared - Hiram. “Sime,” he went on after a little reflection, “you’ve got to go - along with the—the——” He saw the woman’s eyes fixed on - him inquisitively and he checked himself. “You deliver the goods,” he - directed, “right to Phin and he’ll do the rest. Get along just as soon as - the horses are baited and don’t forget the lunch for the—the - gayzelle,” he added for the benefit of the curious woman. “I’ll take my - grub in my hand and chase up Imogene. There’s no knowin’ what them farmers - will da with her if I don’t. Here’s a two-dollar bill,” he said hastily to - the woman. “That’s lib’ral pay for three lunches and hoss-baitin’.” - </p> - <p> - “I never heard of gay-zelles eatin’ lunch,” she said, suspicion in her - tones. “I s’pose you’ve got a wild man o’ Borneo in that cart to let loose - on us next.” - </p> - <p> - “It’s no matter what we’ve got,” retorted Hiram. “You give me my grub in - my hand and let me get away.” - </p> - <p> - He went stamping into the kitchen and she foh lowed him with some - apprehension. Five minutes later he trotted at his best gait across the - field along the trail of Imogene and her pursuers, munching ham sandwiches - and scattering crumbs upon the breeze. - </p> - <p> - A stern chase is always a long one, and after Hiram had crossed the - woodlot he found himself on a parallel road where there were still other - indignant women and clamorous farmers to shake off when they hailed him as - the presumptive owner of the fugitive elephant and sought to collect - damages. - </p> - <p> - “A Kansas cyclone is a kitten beside of her,” he muttered as he surveyed - one scene of devastation after another and hurried on. - </p> - <p> - “Them farmers must be aggravatin’ Imogene something awful to make her cut - up this way. But I don’t blame her. If I had a trunk and weighed - twenty-seven hundred pounds I’d smash down what she ain’t finished up. She - and me agrees on farmers.” - </p> - <p> - So, scattering right and left profanity and promises to settle, he toiled - on, his tall hat in his hand and the perspiration streaming down his face. - There was no such thing as keeping the trail in a team. Through copses and - meadows, down water-courses and valleys and across farm dooryards the - animal had led her pursuers. The trail was devious, too, as though - Imogene, harassed on all sides, had kept turning, either to attack or - dodge. In one place a considerable array of various samples of trousers - cloth fluttering from a barbed wire fence indicated that there had been a - hasty retreat. Hiram stopped and surveyed this scene with grim - satisfaction. - </p> - <p> - “You pocketed ’em in this corner, dum ’em,” he muttered. - “Bully for you, old gal!” - </p> - <p> - The showman, in his many twistings and turnings along the trail, stopped - taking note of his general direction of progress, and just before dusk, - leg-weary and panting, found himself coursing down a hillock that was - strangely familiar. He suddenly stopped in the midst of trampled, tattered - and bedraggled cotton sheeting and stared about him. He had come’ back to - the place where he had started on the chase and for a moment thought he - had unconsciously crossed his own trail somewhere and had followed back. A - woman’s voice, shrill with anger, hailed him from the ell window. - </p> - <p> - “’Tain’t enough, is it, for your tarnation old el’-phunt to - hooroosh over our primises once, but she and her rag-tag must come back - and slambang through again!” - </p> - <p> - The farmer came out of the barn, mopping his brow. - </p> - <p> - “They ain’t five minutes ahead of ye,” he said. “I should ’a’ kept - right on chasin’, but I had to stop off and do my chores. I reckon they’ll - catch her pretty quick. She’s about beat out.” - </p> - <p> - Hiram slouched down the hill, puffing. - </p> - <p> - “But there ain’t no use in ’em catchin’ her,” continued the farmer. - “It will be like catchin’ smallpox. You can’t do nothin’ sensible with it - when you do get it.” - </p> - <p> - “If you infernal fools would let her alone she’d be all right and go - home,” bellowed Hiram over his shoulder as he leaped across the highway - fence and began to run with his last remaining strength. - </p> - <p> - A quarter of an hour later, after struggling in the dusk through an alder - swamp, he came out in the rear of some farm buildings. He saw men - sprinkled in straggly line about a barn, men who leaned on pitchforks and - clubs and guns. - </p> - <p> - “Where is she?” he shouted at the first man he came across—an - individual who was scratched by bushes and brambles and whose blue, - drilling overalls hung about him in shreds. - </p> - <p> - “Ain’t much need of askin’ that if you’ll listen a minit,” returned the - elephant hunter surlily. - </p> - <p> - From the bam came frantic neighings of horses and melancholy lowings of - cows. An occasional crash, rattle or clatter indicated that either Imogene - was trying to get comfortably into a safe shelter, in spite of the - interference of farming tools, or that the terrified inmates were - struggling to get out. - </p> - <p> - In the house a woman could be heard plaintively mourning, once in a while - her voice breaking into a scream as some fresh and louder tumult sounded - in the barn. - </p> - <p> - “That’s the widder Abilene Snell that owns this stand,” explained the man - solemnly. “She was jest gittin’ over the hysterics she had this noon. Us - and el’phunt was here once before this to-day. She’s an awful high-strung - woman. I shouldn’t wonder if this second trip would fix her.” - </p> - <p> - The showman did not hesitate. - </p> - <p> - He clapped his hat on his head and rushed into the barn. The men flocked - together, the word having passed that Hime Look had at last arrived to - claim his own. - </p> - <p> - For a little space there was utter silence in the barn—-Imogene - evidently listening in an attempt to determine whether this new arrival - were friend or foe. Then there sounded joyful trumpetings as the exhausted - and frightened animal recognised her master. The men could hear Hiram’s - voice soothing her, and after a time he appeared at the tie-up door. - </p> - <p> - “I’ve got another time and place,” he said, addressing them as they came - crowding up to him, “for tellin’ you all what I think of a parsul of men - that will chase a poor elephant nearly to death. I ain’t goin’ to tell you - now. I’ve been runnin’ too long. I ain’t got breath enough. When I start - in to tell you I shall need a lot of it.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, we got your brother Phin’s word to come after her,” said one of the - bystanders, sulkily. “There ain’t any of us got any partic’lar relish for - an el’phunt bee, but we come ’cause he asked us to.” - </p> - <p> - “You may be good barn-raisers,” returned the showman angrily, “but what - you snoozers don’t know about elephants would make up the most that’s so - about ’em.” - </p> - <p> - Several women came to the door of the house and one of the men called to - them: - </p> - <p> - “Tell Mis’ Snell that the man that owns the animile has come to git her. - There ain’t no more danger.” - </p> - <p> - The mournings within ceased promptly and a plump and fair matron appeared - among the women on the door-stoop. - </p> - <p> - “What have you got to say for yourself, lettin’ loose such critters to - ruin and destroy?” she demanded, with the ready and hot anger that - succeeds fright. - </p> - <p> - Hiram, still framed in the tie-up door, took off his hat gallantly. - </p> - <p> - “It ain’t any doin’s of mine, marm,” he said. “Prob’ly a kinder or - sweeter-tempered elephant than Imogene is has never teased for peanuts - over a guard-rope. But it don’t improve no dispositions to be chased by a - pack of goramuses—it wouldn’t improve your disposition, it wouldn’t - improve mine.” - </p> - <p> - “Don’t you go to classin’ me with your menagerie, yourself included,” she - snapped. “What I want to know is, who’s goin’ to pay me for the damage - that’s been done here to-day? It ain’t goin’ to be no shillin’ and a - thank-ye settlement, now, I can tell ye that.” - </p> - <p> - Hiram came out of the tie-up door and trudged forward a few steps. - </p> - <p> - “I’m a widder, but you needn’t think you are goin’ to jew me one cent’s - wuth,” she flung at him. - </p> - <p> - “I’ve got forty thousand dollars in the bank, and I don’t care who knows - the same,” retorted Hiram, “and I stand good for all bills incurred by me - or Imogene—now don’t you forget that for a second.” - </p> - <p> - He started across the yard toward the widow, for this arm’s-length - conversation, with so many eavesdroppers, annoyed him. The persecuted - Imogene had been trying to squeeze through the narrow alley from the barn - floor. Now that she had recovered her friend and defender she did not - propose to lose him again. With an eagerness candid and child-like, she - sought safety at his side. - </p> - <p> - “I want you to understand that though I’m a widder I ain’t without friends - and protectors,” said Mrs. Snell. “The bill for damages will be sent to - Cap’n Nymphus Bodfish, at P’lermo, and he’ll have full power to act for - me. And now if you’ll take your el’phunt in tow and git off my primises - I’ll be much obleeged to you. I’ve been through all I want to for one - day.” - </p> - <p> - The name of Bodfish acted on the showman almost galvanically. - </p> - <p> - “Him,” he muttered, “settle with him? Not by a——” - </p> - <p> - He strode across the yard. - </p> - <p> - “You and me——” He began, but at that instant Imogene, who had - heard his voice in the space before the barn, whirled from her attempt to - squeeze through the tie-up and crashed out through the big doors. With - screams the women jammed back into the entry and slammed the door. The men - in the yard ran in all directions. - </p> - <p> - “Go back, Imogene!” the showman shouted wrathfully, but the anxious beast - ambled sidewise toward him, waving her trunk appealingly. - </p> - <p> - He jumped at her and threw up his arms. She stopped and gazed - reproachfully, and came toward him again. - </p> - <p> - “I say, she won’t hurt a soul,” he shouted, but the women kept up their - clamour in the house, and the men were hidden in the dusk. Then his anger - wreaked itself on the only thing in sight—and that was the amazed - Imogene. - </p> - <p> - There was a pile of fitted wood in the yard, and he began to bombard her - with it. She retreated a few steps, and then bowing her devoted head, - received the missiles meekly, yet with an evident determination to stay - that touched the showman’s heart. - </p> - <p> - “Poor old gal,” he muttered, “you’re worth all the rest put together. But - there ain’t no Widder Snell goin’ to pass me and my bus’ness along to Cap - Nymp’ Bodfish, and if this is the place where that old wharf-rat thinks - he’s goin’ to nest in the sweet by-and-by—well, no man ever kicked - me in the face and eyes of the public before!” - </p> - <p> - He set his teeth with obstinate resolve and walked up and rapped on the - widow’s door. When it was not opened to him he pushed vigorously, and two - women who had been holding it ran away into the sitting-room, screaming - that the elephant was coming. - </p> - <p> - But it was only Hiram who appeared to the terrified widow, backed into a - corner and surrounded by her retinue of comforters. - </p> - <p> - “Mis’ Snell,” said Hiram, bowing low and striving for an especial purpose - of his own to put his best foot forward, “a man ain’t to be judged by - first appearances nor while standin’ in a dooryard in the dark tryin’ to - handle an elephant that’s been scared to death by tomrotted fools. Now, I - can see that you’re a lady that’s used to the world and that’s too polite - and ladylike to refuse to have an understand when a gentleman comes to you - humbly like I do.” - </p> - <p> - He noted the little flush on the widow’s fair cheek and reflected that - Captain Bodfish displayed eminent good taste. - </p> - <p> - “I hope it won’t ever be said of me that I didn’t know my manners,” - replied Mrs. Snell, with pride, but visibly affected by Hiram’s gallant - admiration and homage. - </p> - <p> - “And as it is allus best when talkin’ private and personal bus’ness to - make that bus’ness strickly personal and private,” continued Hiram, bowing - to the women, who now stood back from the widow, “I feel that I ain’t - askin’ too great a favour from you, Mis’ Snell, if you could arrange it so - that we could have the room to ourselves.” - </p> - <p> - The women retired to the kitchen with no very good grace. - </p> - <p> - As Hiram began to speak there was a queer fumbling and rustling at the - window, and the widow turned and with difficulty repressed a cry. There - stood Imogene, with the lamp-light touching the broad head pushed close to - the glass. She was blinking appealing eyes, and with the “thumb” of her - trunk was feeling along the sash in an aimless, selfconscious way. - </p> - <p> - “Now, marm,” expostulated the showman, “that elephant is tamer than a tab - cat, ’cause a cat will scratch and that elephant wouldn’t harm a - hair—a single spear of your—your—” (Hiram let it come - out, but bashfully)—“your pretty head. It’s affection that brings - her to that window—affection for me. She’s the only one in the world - that cares a rap for me—but it shows that I ain’t all bad when an - animile can love me like that.” - </p> - <p> - He sighed and the widow looked at him with new interest. She apparently - forgot the elephant at the window, and in a few minutes she certainly had - forgotten Imogene’s presence, for she was leaning forward toward Hiram and - listening intently. - </p> - <p> - The women were listening as intently at the crack of the kitchen door, but - Hiram spoke low and rapidly and they could not understand. But the - interview must have altered Mrs. Snell’s opinion of Hiram Look, for at the - end of half-an-hour she came to the kitchen door and said: - </p> - <p> - “I wish you’d plan to stay here with me to-night, Nellie.” - </p> - <p> - The young woman assented. - </p> - <p> - “My nerves ain’t jest all right yet,” continued the widow, and then she - looked them all boldly in the eye, though her cheeks were red, “and I’ve - asked Mr. Look to stop all night and put his elephant in the barn. It - would be an awful traipse for him to travel ’way back to P’lermo - to-night, and I really feel that I could get to like elephants, he has - talked to me so nice about ’em.” - </p> - <p> - She went to a cupboard in a corner, took down a box of sweetmeats, carried - them into the sitting-room, and, to the inexpressible horror of the women, - shoved up the window at which Imogene was still wistfully fumbling. With - fingers that trembled at first she dropped a few bits of the candy into - the animal’s moist “porringer,” and Imogene tucked them into her mouth and - munched with supreme satisfaction. The widow fed the candy to the last - bit, manifestly enjoying the comments on her bravery. - </p> - <p> - Then she carried the lantern to the barn when Hiram led the elephant away - to domicile her for the night. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t want to draw no wrong conclusions nor do anyone wrong in my - thoughts,” said Mrs. Wes Johnson, on her way home that evening, speaking - to a woman who walked with her. “But if I was any judge I should say that - Cap’n Nymphus Bodfish better be lookin’ to his buttons in a certain - quarter.” - </p> - <p> - “By the style she spit out there before us all tonight, you might think - her intentions was serious toward him,” commented the other. - </p> - <p> - “I know they’re serious,” replied the other with decision. “Nymp’ has made - his brags already, and I’m knowin’ to it that she’s been havin’ extra - sewin’ done.” - </p> - <p> - “You don’t s’pose she’d mitten him now, do you?’ asked the other in - horrified tones. - </p> - <p> - “Well, I don’t want to wrong nobody,” said Mrs Johnson, “but if I was - goin’ to say, I shouldn’t be that Cap Nymp’ Bodfish would get Abby Snell - till I see ’em comin’ down the aisle together. I tell ye, when a - man’s got forty thousand to put into the bank ’side of the twenty - thousand that Number One left to ye, a woman does a little second-thought - thinkin’.” - </p> - <p> - The Widow Snell stayed awake a long time that night, listening to the - distant rumble of Hiram’s snores shuddering under the door of the best - room. Possibly she was fulfilling Mrs. Johnson’s prediction about second - thoughts. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XV—SOME OF THE POSSIBILITIES IN A “CORNET BRASS BAND” - </h2> - <h3> - AS FIGURED BY ITS PROMOTER, HIRAM LOOK - </h3> - <p class="indent15"> - Open order and forward march! - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Major in bearskin and stiffer than starch, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Knees like a thoroughbred—he’s the kind! - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And all the musicianers marchin’ behind, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Then poum-ta-roum! Oh, ain’t it grand - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - To march with the Atkinson Full Brass Band? - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - —From “Village Ballads.” - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hen Hiram turned - in at the dooryard of the Look place next day it was late in the - afternoon, and he was riding in the rear of a farmer’s beach waggon, his - long legs dangling over the tail-board. Imogene followed docilely at the - end of a rope, her affectionate gaze on her master. - </p> - <p> - Squire Phin and Peak, who had been sitting on the porch, came along to - greet the new arrival and congratulate him. - </p> - <p> - “Well, it’s taken leg-work a lot and head-work a lot,” said Hiram with a - sigh of relief as he slid stiffly down from his perch. “Look-a-there!” He - pointed to the horse that had drawn the waggon. “Had two runaways and one - smash-up before I got that invented.” - </p> - <p> - Two saplings were lashed to the thills and extended beyond the bit-rings - through which they were thrust. The horse was unable to turn his head to - look behind, and for further precaution the apprehensive country youth who - drove had tied his ragged coat around the animal’s head like a muffler. - </p> - <p> - “I never saw a section, hoss-kind and human-kind both, get so foolish over - one mild and inoffensive elephant before,” Hiram went on disgustedly. “I - should have been home before this, but I stayed and squared up. Went along - the whole trail and, as you might say, settled damages along the right o’ - way. They ain’t got no kick comin’. Ain’t that so, son?” he demanded, - addressing the youth on the seat. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t see how anyone could be any perficker a gent,” said the driver, - warmly. “Our folks lost a row and a half of nurs’ry stock and one cosset - lamb stepped on and squashed, and Mr. Look just up and slapped what it - come to right down into dad’s fist, with a half a dollar extry for a - laylock bush that we didn’t make no account of. And at Abby Snell’s, where - the most damage was done, why, you jest ought to hear Abby tell——” - </p> - <p> - “Well, that’s all right, son,” interrupted Hiram, hastily. “All is I - wanted to stand square up that way, and give the gossips a chance to chaw - on something sweet ’stead of something sour.” He handed the youth a - silver dollar. “That’s for yourself, son,” he said, “and now you’d better - be hustling for home ‘fore dark.” He looked more comfortable when the - waggon went clattering away under the elms. - </p> - <p> - “I guess what they don’t know about Abby Snell down this way jest yet - awhile won’t hurt ’em any,” he muttered as he led away Imogene into - the barn, and into the companionship of the eight horses once more - assembled. “Sime is such a soft old fool he would think I am in love, and - Phin would pitch into me on account of my temper for gittin’ even, the - same as he allus does.” - </p> - <p> - “Hiram,” said his brother, when the showman joined the two men on the - porch, “I want to ask your pardon for trying to stop you yesterday. Mr. - Peak has told me how you managed at the other end. At this end it all - worked to perfection. Wat Mayo only knows that she <i>ran</i> away on - account of a mistaken notion that she would be helping him, and that she - loved him too much to <i>stay</i> away.” - </p> - <p> - “There’s mighty few cases where women’s concerned when judicious lyin’ - ain’t a benefit all ’round,” said Hiram, lighting his cigar. - </p> - <p> - “It’s only the strong natures that want and can stand the whole truth,” - replied the Squire, sighing. “I did what I thought was for the best.” - </p> - <p> - “He’s a cosset and allus will be and you warmed his milk for him,” snorted - Hiram. “That’s all right! You ain’t done anything wrong. Any other kind of - feedin’ would give him an attack of love-colic that would tie him up into - knots so that he’d never get untangled.” - </p> - <p> - He smoked in silence for a little while. - </p> - <p> - “Ain’t there any ding-blasted thing in this world that the critter knows - how to do?” he demanded. “There’s no young and pretty girl that’s goin’ to - stay very hard in love with a swipe in a liv’ry stable, no matter how she - tries. I pity the poor little gaffer, Phin. We had a talk together on the - road—me and her and Sime here. I ain’t all bristles, Phin. I’d do - somethin’ for the feller if I could—anything short of charity, and - I’ll be cussed if I’ll give money to an able-bodied man that’s able to - earn it. She’d hate him then, if there’s anything to her, and if she - didn’t I’d hate her—and there you have it. Gad! I don’t understand - how a chap can grow to be over twenty-one and not know how to do some one - thing.” - </p> - <p> - “If his folks had taught him to play a fiddle instead of a cornet,” said - the Squire, “he might have been able to fiddle for dances and earn an - oyster supper and a dollar-fifty once in a while, as old Eb Lancaster - does.” - </p> - <p> - “Does the Mayo boy know how to play the cornet?” asked Hiram, with - reviving interest. - </p> - <p> - “His folks paid that bandmaster, that has his summer cottage down on - Prout’s Point, two hundred dollars and over for lessons to Wat.” - </p> - <p> - “But can he <i>play?</i>” persisted Hiram. - </p> - <p> - “How should I know?” snapped the Squire impatiently. “All I know is he - near drove me crazy with his practising—and nigh every one else in - the village.” But after a moment he went on with gentler tone: - </p> - <p> - “Yes, Hiram, some of the men around here who understand such things say - that Wat Mayo plays wonderfully well. I remember that the bandmaster used - to brag about him, but what with folks jawing about the noise he made, and - his natural laziness, he hasn’t done anything with it. And a bulldog might - as well try to chew with a set of store teeth as a man start out to earn a - living in Palermo with a cornet.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, he’ll earn one from now on,” said Hiram. - </p> - <p> - The two men stared at him. - </p> - <p> - “He’s jest the man I’ve been lookin’ for,” said the showman. “Life ain’t - worth livin’ for me without band music. I’m homesick for it. Wat Mayo can - consider himself hired as the teacher and leader of ‘Look’s Cornet Band,’ - and I’ll bet you ten dollars I’ll have twenty men practisin’ in Hobbs’s - hall before next Saturday night.” - </p> - <p> - “You’ll never find twenty men in this place who can afford to buy band - instruments,” objected the Squire. - </p> - <p> - “I’ll buy ’em myself,” cried Hiram, stoutly. “Great Caesar, what’s - a little expense beside good band music when a man’s hungry for it? I’ll - buy the instruments, I’ll buy the uniforms—it’ll be my band, and - I’ll buy a bearskin cap for Sime, here, six feet tall, and advertise him - for the tallest drum-major in the State. Why, hustlin’ Cicero, men,” he - cried, as his enthusiasm warmed his showman’s heart, “I can make Look’s - Cornet Band an organisation that will be wanted in ev’ry parade from - Quoddy to the Scarb’ro clam flats. And when your young friend Wat Mayo, - Phin, gets ahead of that band in his spick-and-span uniform, you won’t - have any more trouble about any critter ever cuttin’ him out with his - wife. Why, she’ll love him to death!” He stamped his big foot on the - piazza and laughed. - </p> - <p> - “I knew there was something I was hankerin’ for,” he chuckled. “’Twas - a band. Why, we can serenade you, Phin, when you get elected Congressman - or hog-reeve or culler of staves or to some other high office.” - </p> - <p> - “Of course, you are able to have such a plaything, Hime,” said the Squire, - without enthusiasm, “and if it helps poor Wat Mayo to get out of his - troubles I reckon the rest of us ought to be willing to stand the - hullabaloo.” - </p> - <p> - With a rather grim smile he left them and went around into his kitchen. - </p> - <p> - “Sime,” said the showman after he had smoked reflectively for some time, - “I have taken you in with me as a sort of a side partner. It’s no use—there’s - a few things that Phin and I can’t hitch hosses on, and they are things - that’s derned important to me. No matter what they are, not jest now, at - any rate. But I don’t mind tellin’ you that there’s more comin’ out of - that Palermo Cornet Band than biff-bangs and toodle-oos. The thought of - gettin’ it up was an inspiration—that’s what it was. You see now - what comes of doin’ a good deed! Gettin’ that girl back makes us talk - about Mayo, and from Mayo to a job for him, and thus around to the band. - Yess’r, a good deed brings it own reward. Now, I ain’t popular with the - people of this place. I want to be popular, but I never could cater to the - old moss-backs by soft-soapin’ ’em. To do what I’ve set out to do I - need to have a followin’. Now I’m goin’ to start that band, pay ’em - wages when they play, furnish free concerts and music for dances, and if I - ain’t popular then, why, I don’t know my people, that’s all.” - </p> - <p> - “Goin’ to run for office, I persume?” suggested Simon. - </p> - <p> - “Run for your grandmother!” snorted Hiram. “What have I ever done to you - that you should twit me that style? No, s’r, I’ll jest say this much to - you, Sime. There’s a certain old son of a pickerel that I’m layin’ for in - this town, and I’m goin’ to have him. I’m goin’ to walk one way acrost him - and then come back the same way and wipe my feet on him. I tell ye, Sime, - when an old harker that has got plenty of his own, jest gets out his knife - and lets the financial blood out of a poor old man and a strugglin’ boy, - only for the sake of lettin’ it, then if he don’t get it handed to him - here—well, I may be lodged in another part of hell from him and - shan’t be able to see what is passed to him there. So it’s me for him in - this life! I tell you, Sime, our trip to Square Harbour wa’n’t all for - nothin’. We done a good deed and we are gettin’ our pay passed right back - to us.” - </p> - <p> - With this curious but entirely characteristic reflection on the - dispensations of Providence, Hiram tossed away his cigar butt and answered - the supper call of Aunt Rhoda. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVI—THE DISAPPOINTING “TEST CASE” OF SUMNER BADGER, - </h2> - <h3> - A “SAMPLE CITIZEN” OF PALERMO - </h3> - <p class="indent15"> - There once was a Quaker, Orasmus Nute, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - With a physog. as stiff as a cowhide boot, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And he skippered a ship from Georgetown, Maine, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - In the ’way back days of the pirates’ reign. - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And the story I tell it has to do - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - With Orasmus Nute and a black flag crew— - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - The tale of the upright course he went - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - In the face of a certain predicament. - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - —Ballad of “Orasmus Nute.” - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>here was at least - one secret in his life that “Fig-ger-Four” Avery kept. He never told what - inspired Imogene to make her dash for liberty. - </p> - <p> - Squire Phin didn’t exactly understand the tableau he had beheld, and - charitably refrained from mentioning to his brother how music, as rendered - by Uncle Wharff, failed to soothe the savage breast. As for Hiram, he did - not seem to be interested enough to ask any questions. - </p> - <p> - Whenever he mentioned the elephant’s escapade to Peak, he referred to the - affair with a sort of grim blithesomeness. - </p> - <p> - Weeks afterward, when the first damp, swirling snow of winter was clotting - itself on the windows of the little sitting-room, he sat for a long time, - figuring in a grimy account book with a stubby lead pencil. Every once in - a while he chuckled. - </p> - <p> - “J. B. Sawtelle,” he murmured, “items: four begonies and three geraniums - mashed in front yard, one washin’ scattered hoorah-ste’-boy—say, - Sime, Imogene with a night gown on one tush and a pair of J. B.‘s flannel - drawers flyin’ distress from the other, and sheddin’ assorted articles - such as found on a well-regulated clothes-line, as she hurrooped down - through the beech growth, must have been worth double the price of a - high-dive feature.” - </p> - <p> - His shoulders, hunched in the rocking-chair, shook with suppressed mirth. - </p> - <p> - Peak, his slippered feet resting on the rail of the Franklin stove, - surveyed the shoulders and the back of Hiram’s head with scowling - disapproval. - </p> - <p> - “Some might think you relished chances to throw away money,” he growled, - with a freedom of criticism accorded the favourite. Simon now appeared to - be settled as a fixture in the showman’s household. The old horse Joachim - had died with the first frosts, and the battered van lurched under one of - the poplars, exposed to the beating of the elements. - </p> - <p> - “What bills do you think Imogene incurred on that trip—now, jest for - a guess?” demanded Hiram, in high good humour. “I’ve been figgerin’ it for - fun.” - </p> - <p> - “It reely must be a good deal like a joke book,” observed Peak, with fine - satire. - </p> - <p> - “I can set and pee-ruse them figgers,” said Hiram, slapping the little - book on his knee and chuckling afresh, “and think how Imogene must have - looked passin’ through them way stations, as you might say, and then think - how them farmers and old maids and women-folks run and squawked and - hollered, and I get fuller of tickles inside than a settin’ hen is full of - clucks. The trouble with you is, Sime, you ain’t got no humour.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I’ve had mostly troubles in my time, and I ain’t got no forty - thousand dollars in the bank, either,” said Peak, sourly. - </p> - <p> - “Say, you’ve been twittin’ me about that forty thousand a good deal - lately,” snorted Hiram, glaring around over the back of the rocking-chair. - “You ain’t begretchin’ me my own, be ye?” - </p> - <p> - “Ev’ry man’s welcome to all he’s got, for all o’ me. I ain’t ever had - nothin’. I don’t ever expect to have anything. But I tell ye, a man don’t - gain in the long run by slingin’ his money around too permiscuous.” - </p> - <p> - Hiram whirled in his chair and put his little book into his pocket. - </p> - <p> - “For more’n a fortnit now, Sime, you’ve been slurrin’ more or less. You’ve - got some kind of a duflicker’s egg that you’re settin’ on. Now come off’n - the nest and if you’ve got any cacklin’ to do, out with it so that I can - join in!” - </p> - <p> - Simon was too certain of his position as a favourite to be backed down. - </p> - <p> - “I guess if speech of the people is correct,” he replied sturdily, “it’s - well enough known why you’re ticklin’ out when you think of Imogene’s trip - up-country.” - </p> - <p> - “F’r instance, now,” suggested Hiram, his face very hard. - </p> - <p> - Peak bent and poked the fire, sniffing disdainfully. - </p> - <p> - “F’r instance, I said,” repeated the showman. - </p> - <p> - “Say, look-a-here, Hime,” snapped Peak, whirling in his chair in his turn, - “do you think for a minute that I don’t know why you’ve been makin’ all - these trips up-country lately—and you a-sayin’ that you’ve got to go - up and transact a little more bus’ness about them damages of Imogene’s? - Now it’s about time to take some of the cuss of the thing off’n that - elephant.” - </p> - <p> - “F’r instance, I said!” yelled Hiram, standing up and clacking his fingers - imperiously under Peak’s nose. “Out with it!” - </p> - <p> - “Don’t you suppose I know that you’re courtin’ that tow-headed widder - that’s got a farm and twenty thousand dollars in the bank? Do you think - that you can fool me that’s summered and wintered with you? You’re - courtin’ her, that’s what you’re doin’, and you’re layin’ it all off onto - that elephant. Now don’t give me no more flim-flam. ’Tain’t - professional. It’s pickin’ me up for a sucker.” - </p> - <p> - The narrow eyes of the giant sparkled with suspicion and with the jealousy - of the companion who is being supplanted and realises it. - </p> - <p> - For a little while Hiram stood and glared at him and then sat down in his - chair again. Either a sense of guilt, craft or desire to placate a friend - caused him to moderate his demeanour. - </p> - <p> - “See here, Sime,” he began, lighting a cigar to keep himself in - countenance, “you have figgered the thing all wrong. You know I ain’t a - marryin’ man. You and me neither of us is. I want you to live with me and - you’re goin’ to.” - </p> - <p> - “I should think that the both of us has suffered enough from women as it - is,” grumbled the giant. “Both of us knows the other’s troubles with ’em. - And now for you to go and ram yourself right into the bramble-bush again, - and me here to advise you, makes me mad and disgusted. I’m thinkin’ of you - first of all, Hime. I ain’t selfish. But I can see jest how it’s goin’ to - be: you’re goin’ to git hitched and then the first thing she’ll do will be - to put the spittoon in the woodshed and kick me out-doors. I thought you - knowed more than to do it—I honest thought so.” - </p> - <p> - Peak bowed his head in grief. - </p> - <p> - “In my whole life long I never was judged right yet by any human bein’,” - wailed Hiram. “And now here you go off the handle jest like the rest. <i>You</i> - know what Nymp’ Bodfish done to me. <i>You</i> know what I propose to do - to Nymp’ Bodfish. That’s all there is to it. He wants her and the twenty - thousand, and he’d ’a’ had her a year ago if he wasn’t hangin’ off - about bein’ a farmer. He wants her to sell and put the money into a - schooner, and he’s jest as much reckonin’ on that as on flood tide when - the moon’s right. His heart is set on it. I’m goin’ to make him the - sickest man ’tween here and the North Pole.” - </p> - <p> - “There was a man once that give an elephant a chaw of terbacker,” related - Simon, “and when the doctors was tryin’ to fit some of the least mussed-up - pieces together at the hospital, he opened his eyes and said: ‘It was a - good one on the elephant, wasn’t it?’ and then give one hiccup and died.” - </p> - <p> - “If you was only jest—well, say, ‘Figger-Four,’ and made such talk - to me,” snarled Hiram, “I’d drive you right down through the floor there, - like I’d drive a tent peg. But I’m willin’ to argue with <i>you</i>, Sime, - and if that don’t show that I’m a friend of yours, then I don’t know what - does.” He wiped his flushed face. “You understand, I can’t bust this thing - in a minit.” - </p> - <p> - “Didn’t you yourself ketch him right in a caper that would queer him with - any decent woman—lug-gin’ off another man’s wife ’cause he - was hired to?” - </p> - <p> - “Don’t you know that would be givin’ away the trouble of the young Mayos—and - them livin’ together now like turtledoves?” roared Hiram. “Look at my - brother Phin—one of God’s own gentlemen, if there ever was one. Him - a-breakin’ his heart and misjudged and old Willard’s girl passin’ him by - be-. cause he smashed King Bradish before her face and eyes—and - Bradish with the last word to her! Don’t you suppose my brother could - square himself with her by just one word of what he knows? But will he do - it after he has passed ’Rissy Mayo his word that so long as she - behaves herself he won’t give her away to any livin’ soul? You can say - he’s a fool if you want to, but I tell ye, Sime, when a man has got as far - along in life as Phin has without breakin’ his solemn word, you can’t - blame him if he’d rather gnaw himself inside than have those whom he gives - away scorch him outside.” - </p> - <p> - He had furiously puffed his cigar down to the end. Now he lighted another. - </p> - <p> - “I never approved of him carin’ a snap for the Willard girl, Sime. I don’t - like her. I don’t like the breed. But this lovin’ of folks ain’t to be - regulated jest the way you’d like to have it. If my brother can keep his - mouth shut about King Bradish’s rottenness when, as you might say, it’s a - wife at stake for him, then I guess I can keep still when it’s only a - grudge that I’m workin’.” - </p> - <p> - “Then it ain’t no wife in your case?” pursued Peak, suspiciously. - </p> - <p> - “I tell ye, all I can do now is to hint,” insisted Hiram, evading the main - question. “I’ve jest got her on the anxious seat. It’s the way I struck up - her interest first of all. I couldn’t have got near her with a ten-foot - pole if I hadn’t got her curiosity started by hints. Then, of course, she - wanted to know what I meant and I’ve been puttin’ her off ever since. You - never saw a woman so worked up as she is, Sime—never. She can’t - hardly stand it till I come again. Then she lets into me to tell her all - about Cap Bodfish. She don’t want to leave go of him till she knows - definite. I reckon she wants to have him around so as to peel him when she - does find out that there really is something in what I hint.” The showman - chuckled again. “And it’s kind of what you might call a lingerin’ death - for him—one of the slow kind like bein’ gnawed by ants. Ev’ry time - he goes up to see her she don’t know whuther to love him or club him off’n - the premises—and she blows hot and she blows cold all in one minit, - and if he ain’t the wust puzzled man that ever tried to box compass in the - sea of matrimony, then I’ll eat the celluloid peel in a side-show - lemonade.” - </p> - <p> - “Don’t he suspect what it all means?” inquired Peak, beginning to - appreciate the situation with the malice of a man who has been fooled and - enjoys seeing others in the same boat. - </p> - <p> - “Keeps a-grabbin’ ev’ry which way like a man that hears a moskeeter - buzzin’ round him in the night,” giggled Hiram. “I’ve set right in the - other room sev’ral times and he didn’t know I was there, and I’ve heard - him coax and beg and guess and promise and almost blubber, and me behind - the door in t’other room swellin’ up and swellin’ up and then lettin’ it - out through my nose easy, and then swellin’ up again. I don’t believe I - shall be able to stand very much of that. I’m li’ble to bust some time.” - </p> - <p> - “I should think it would be well wuth list’nin’ to,” agreed Peak. Then he - said artlessly: “I like fun myself. Why can’t I go along with you after - this? Then there won’t be no such thing as her gettin’ her cobweb around - you.” - </p> - <p> - “You talk as though I was runnin’ matinées up-country,” said Hiram, the - red on his bristly cheeks. He detected Peak’s selfish apprehension, and - the giant’s gaze shifted under his scowl. “I never had any trouble in - runnin’ my own bus’ness yet and I don’t expect to have to call in - understudies right away.” - </p> - <p> - In considerable dudgeon he marched along to a narrow secretary in the - corner and began to mumble figures in an undertone as he went over his - accounts. Peak sat gazing into the fire, twirling his huge thumbs - thoughtfully. - </p> - <p> - The sound of some one stamping off snow on the porch broke upon the - silence of the two. The visitor came in without knocking and, fumbling his - way along the dark entry, opened the sitting-room door. - </p> - <p> - It was old Sumner Badger, the wet snow splotching his faded overcoat. - </p> - <p> - “’Pears to be one o’ these ’ere sticky storms,” he observed - amiably, pulling a chair up before the stove. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, seems to hang to <i>you</i> like dollar bills do,” retorted Hiram, - snapping around from the secretary and squinting over his glasses. Then he - went on with his figuring, talking half aloud. Badger surveyed the back of - his head for some time and then said: - </p> - <p> - “It’s about that money you want to borrow of me, Capt’in.” Badger always - bestowed this title in moments when he wanted to placate. - </p> - <p> - “Then you’ve collected from Willard, have you?” inquired Hiram, gruffly, - over his shoulder. “Huh, you’ve been long enough about it. Ever since last - fall.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, I’ve seen the Jedge,” faltered Badger; “jest come from his office - to here. He says the town can’t raise no money to take up town notes not - till town meetin’ in March. He says it will be made all right to me if - I’ll wait. Now he give me to understand that I’d git seven per cent, all - hunky if I didn’t hurry things and—no, s’r, honest to Lucifer if I - said a word about your wantin’ the money,” he expostulated as Hiram swung - angrily to face him. - </p> - <p> - “I told you I’d kill you if you did,” roared Hiram. “And I didn’t, - Capt’in! No, s’r, when it’s money concerned I can keep my mouth shet. - Ain’t I kept it shet all these years about the Jedge havin’ it?” - </p> - <p> - “Let’s see!” remarked Hiram, with a sly look in his eye, as though he - wished to test this Palermo voter. “How much money does Palermo owe, - anyway?” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t have the least idee,” blandly returned Badger, crossing his - knees. “We all trust the Jedge to ’tend to that. <i>He</i> knows.” - </p> - <p> - “So you are goin’ to let your money stay with the Judge, hey?” - </p> - <p> - “Well—blorh hum! Well, as I was sayin’, Jedge Willard seems to be - perfickly square about makin’ it right and—and—well, Capt’in, - nat’rally it’s—it’s bus’ness—well, to make it an object to - shift you might—-there’s the taxes, too——” - </p> - <p> - “You old harker,” cried Hiram, irefully, “what you want me to say is that - I’ll pay you eight per cent.! ‘You’ve been whifflin’ back and forth for - two months between Judge Willard and me. I thought you got all ready to - die a while ago. What are you waitin’ for—to place your money out at - eight per cent, first?” - </p> - <p> - “I ain’t goin’ to die,” blurted Badger. “A man’s got the right to change - his mind, ain’t he? And they’ve found out about that Mis’ Achorn. She used - a wax hand to make folks believe ’twas some one dead that was - touchin’ ’em and—-” - </p> - <p> - “Shet up!” barked Hiram. “Do you think I’ve been in the circus line thirty - years to need to have fakes explained to me? It’s bus’ness I want to talk - with you, Sum. Don’t you read your town report, you fool? Don’t you know - that Judge Willard says there over his name that this town owes only a - little over two thousand dollars? And yet you know, yourself, that he has - borrowed seven thousand from you on a town note! Don’t you stop to think - about those things? And now I’ll tell you something to make your hair - curl! I have found out that there are twenty-five thousand dollars’ worth - of town notes held around here by just such old blind moles as you are - that he has told to keep still. Lord knows how many more there are. I - don’t imagine that some would let it out if you took a knife to ’em.” - </p> - <p> - He wiped the perspiration from his face and gazed at Badger as though he - expected the information to wilt him. The avenger of the wrongs of the - Looks was not entirely ready with the thunderbolt that he was forging for - the town treasurer of Palermo, but the serenity of the dollar-blinded - Badger exasperated him. For a test he wanted to see how one citizen of - Palermo would receive the disclosure. - </p> - <p> - “I tell you your treasurer is fooling the whole of ye!” he shouted. “He - has stolen from your town.” The creditor blinked at him. “Now will you sit - by and let him fool you with his talk of makin’ it right? Now will you try - to screw eight per cent, out of me who’s tryin’ to bring him to the ring - bolt? Now will you hand that note over to me or pitch in and collect it - yourself?” - </p> - <p> - To Hiram’s intense astonishment Badger slowly leaned forward, set his - elbows on his knees, began to tap his finger-tips together, winked one - eye, and smiled shrewdly and composedly. - </p> - <p> - “Don’t you worry none about Coll Willard,” he said. “He’s a financier.” He - rolled the word over his tongue. “His folks was financiers before him. - Nobody can’t fool him. He’s sly. So’m I. He’s ready to help the sly folks. - You’ve got money, but you ain’t no financier. You’re jest a circus man. - And we ain’t your monkeys, here in P’lermo. If you want your nuts pulled - out of the fire, pull ’em out yourself.” - </p> - <p> - Hiram got up and stamped around the room in an ecstasy of rage. - </p> - <p> - “I’m a good mind to let you all go to Tophet by the short cut, your tails - tied together with kerosened rags,” he gasped. “Here I am, givin’ up time - and money to save this town from being lugged into bankruptcy, and what do - I get? I get laughed at! Damn it!” he stormed, “there’s your last town - report! Look for yourself! He’s lied there under oath.” - </p> - <p> - With the words he threw a pamphlet into Badger’s lap. The old man promptly - tossed the report upon the table. - </p> - <p> - “You’d better stop tryin’ to work out your old grudge on Jedge Willard,” - he advised, with a bland sapience that made the showman grit his teeth. - “If he finds out that you’re a-slanderin’ him he’s li’ble to have the law - on ye.” - </p> - <p> - “If I should stand up in town meetin’ and call on you to rise and say - whether or not you hold a town note for seven thousand dollars, I suppose - you’ll lie, won’t you?” - </p> - <p> - “I shall allus stand behind the man who has allus helped to put some extry - dollars in my pocket,” said the old man, stiffly. - </p> - <p> - Hiram seized him by the arm, hustled him to the door and thrust him out - into the entry. - </p> - <p> - “If you wasn’t rank poison I’d chop you up and feed you to Imogene,” he - shouted as he slammed the door. “If you come into my house again I’ll take - chances and do it.” - </p> - <p> - The door opened promptly and the unterrified Badger poked in his head. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t s’pose you’re goin’ back on your brother Phin as a legal adviser, - be ye?” he inquired. “Well, he advised me to hang onto my town note for a - while and keep still till I heard from him. It wa’n’t two hours ago that - he told me the same thing. Now I——” - </p> - <p> - But when Hiram clutched a chair with a threatening motion Badger fled. - </p> - <p> - “Sime,” said the showman, “I’m blasted glad I had them carts painted up. - It’s me and you for the road again next season, both of us with our knives - out for blood and our little tin dippers held ready to catch it. I’m sick - of tryin’ to do favours for anyone. I never saw such an ungrateful town as - this one is.” - </p> - <p> - He looked sullenly out into the driving snow. - </p> - <p> - “The band seems to be doin’ well,” said Peak. “They’re havin’ three - rehearsals a week and are pretty nigh blowin’ their lungs out. You can’t - ask nothin’ better from the band than what you’re gittin’.” - </p> - <p> - Hiram turned from the window and gave his friend and confidant a long and - searching stare. - </p> - <p> - “Peak,” said he, “sometimes when you talk to me I think you’re in with the - rest a-tryin’ to do me.” - </p> - <p> - Simon surveyed him with eyes mutely expostulating. - </p> - <p> - “Other times I think you are a dummed fool. You can take your pick. Now I - am goin’ out to associate with some one that ain’t tryin’ to pick my - pocket the whole dog-blessed time nor spreadin’ on hair-oil talk when it - ain’t called for.” - </p> - <p> - He trudged out to the barn where Imogene was spending the winter in - dignified ease, occupying a corner of the building that had been sheathed - and boarded for her comfort. Here “Figger-Four” Avery tended a little - air-tight stove, relegated to the post of menial. - </p> - <p> - Hiram sat in silent communion with Imogene until the dusk came down. Once - in a while he fed to her a lump of candy. Each time she curved down her - trunk he poked a thick finger against it roguishly. - </p> - <p> - “I’ll bet ye know who sent ’em to ye—now, don’t ye?” he would - chuckle, when Imogene gazed down on him with amiable blinkings. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVII—WHAT DEVELOPED AT THE FORUM IN ASA BRICKETT’S STORE, - </h2> - <h3> - TO AN OBBLIGATO BY LOOK’S CORNET BRASS BAND - </h3> - <p class="indent15"> - “Always a seat for another, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Providin’ we squeeze ’em tight; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Stampin’ in from the smother, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - For ’tis snowin’ hard to-night. - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Time for a bit o’ smokin’, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Time for another tale, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Time for a little jokin’, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Waitin’ here for the mail.” - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - —Ballad of “The Grocery Store.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> think there’s - more git-up and ginger in a fife and drum,” said Uncle Lysimachus Buck. He - had cocked his ear to listen. Then he held his cane beside his lips and - fingered imaginary stops. - </p> - <p> - The windows of Hobbs’s hall, across the street from Asa Brickett’s store, - shed their yellow gleams out upon the crisp winter night. A band rehearsal - was going on there. The loafers who hovered about the stove in the store - could hear the voice of the leader haranguing his men, then the robust - attack on the tune—bass horns bellowing “oomp-pah oomps,” cornets - blaring and clarinets wailing; then the false note, the wavering in the - melody and the sharp command of a voice, at which the music shredded out - into jargon and ceased. More harangue and away they all went again from - the start! - </p> - <p> - “If the dummed calves ever git so they can play a whole piece to once it - will be wuth while list’nin’,” growled Marriner Amazeen, settling down - once more to his whittling, after he had cocked his ear for a time. - </p> - <p> - “Near’s I can find out, Hime ain’t lettin’ ’em practise nothin’ but - them high-diddle-diddle circus tunes,” observed Uncle Buck. “Now, you take - a fife and drum in ‘The Girl I Left Behind Me,’ or a good fiddler in ‘The - Devil’s Dream’ or ‘Miss McCloud’s Reel,’ or even an accordion in ‘Alice, - Where Be Ye?’ and, by swanny, you’ve got the real old ear-ticklers. But - this squeaky-weaky, biff, bang, boom stuff ain’t music no more’n poundin’ - on a tin wash-boiler is.” - </p> - <p> - But when Brickett began knocking a soap box into pieces for firewood, - Uncle Buck bawled at him angrily. - </p> - <p> - “Band tootlin’ don’t keep <i>me</i> warm,” said Brickett, as he stuffed - the fuel into the stove. “Any time my system of runnin’ things in this - store don’t suit the loafers, said loafers know what they can do.” - </p> - <p> - “Ain’t no need of goin’ ’round makin’ noise jest for the sake of - makin’ it,” replied Buck. - </p> - <p> - “Then you whistle whilst I pound boxes,” said the storekeeper, grinning, - “and p’raps it’ll remind you of a fife and drum.” - </p> - <p> - “Shet up a little while, won’t ye, now?” asked Micajah Dunham, wistfully. - “Here I drive clear in from my place on band-practisin’ nights so’s to git - a little music, and you run your clack so that a feller can’t hear.” He - sat on the edge of a box, his purchases heaped in his lap, his fur cap on - the floor in order that the earlappers might not obstruct his hearing. - “Here’s a piece now that they play well,” he added, with the air of - conviction of one who had followed faithfully the work of the new Palermo - band. - </p> - <p> - The men around the stove listened, Uncle Buck tapping his cane - appreciatively. - </p> - <p> - “There! Ain’t that good?” sighed Dunham as the band came down the - homestretch and wound up the selection in a fine burst of melody. - </p> - <p> - “I guess there ain’t no doubt but what Wat Mayo is hunky-dory as a - musicianer,” agreed Amazeen. “I hear that the Port boys are gittin’ up a - band, and they’re even talkin’ of one over to Newry Gore, and are goin’ to - have Wat to teach both of ’em. I s’pose it’s all right for him to - spend his time that way and earn a dollar, but it don’t seem much like - man’s work to me.” - </p> - <p> - “I s’pose you think the only real bus’ness a man ought to foller is to - raise pertaters and fat shotes?” sarcastically observed Dunham. “I tell - ye, I admire the Mayo boy’s spunk in makin’ something out of himself - instead of a day-labourer. You can’t fit square pegs into round holes. - He’s been woke up and put into the job that he fits. Now he’ll amount to - some thing. Folks gen’rally amount to something when they git woke up—if - it ain’t too late,” he added with a sigh. He snuggled his heap of parcels - together on his knees. “I ought to be goin’ home,” he said, half to - himself. “But, I swan, I’d like to hear one more tune.” - </p> - <p> - “You seem to be livin’ pretty well nowadays out to your house,” remarked - Uncle Buck, with a sly look at the bundles. - </p> - <p> - “’Tain’t no more than bringin’ up the gen’ral av’rage, when you - think of what we’ve missed to our house,” was Dunham’s stout rejoinder. He - was ready nowadays to meet fearlessly the malicious thrusts of his old - neighbours, with his new gospel of life. - </p> - <p> - The music recommenced again across the street. This time the band was - playing an accompaniment for a cornet solo by its leader. The notes, - dulcet in the distance, seemed almost phrasing a song. Dunham’s eyes - moistened with the sudden emotion of his simple nature. - </p> - <p> - “I know you all have a good deal of fun behind my back about the way I’ve - shifted over,” he said, quietly. “I know that it makes you laugh to hear - me go ’round preachin’ about gittin’ a little something out of life - as you go along. I don’t care if you do laugh. Laugh! The more ye laugh, - the less you’ll growl. But me and my wife has woke up, and we don’t care - who knows it, and if some of the rest of you would wake up, too, you’d - find that the only thing the sun shines for ain’t to raise crops and make - freckles.” - </p> - <p> - “P’raps if all of us could git holt of a ready-made, grown-up daughter, as - good as the one you’ve got, we might improve some,” said Buck, with a wink - at his associates in “hector.” - </p> - <p> - “P’raps you could,” Dunham answered, simply and earnestly. - </p> - <p> - “Well, it makes a pretty good berth for a poor girl, ’Caje,” said a - man behind the stove. “Most anyone would like to be adopted into a fam’ly - like yours.” - </p> - <p> - “It ain’t that way, neighbours,” Dunham said softly, his face in the - direction of the music. “When we adopted ’Liza Haskell we was - gettin’ the best end of the bargain, if ye want to put it on that kind of - a basis. We was both all corners before—sharp corners at that. I - ain’t backward about ownin’ up—we f’it, me and Esther, like fury, - and we didn’t know what was the matter with us. But somehow there don’t - seem to be any corners in our house now. Them that ain’t filled with new - chairs and pictur’s is all full o’ sunshine. There ain’t a room in the - house that looks like it used to—with the furniture standin’ round - jest as though it had been used at a funeral last and was where the - undertaker arranged it. We didn’t know what the matter was, I say—me - and Esther didn’t. We don’t know jest how it’s come about nov. But we do - know that we’ve adopted something besides a poor little girl—we’ve - adopted sunshine and sweetness and comfort and new notions about livin’ - and lovin’ and havin’.” - </p> - <p> - He stood up and piled his parcels upon his arm. - </p> - <p> - “That’s the way it is to our house nowadays, neighbours. I used to like to - set here the whole ev’nin’ in the store before—but now—well, - when I git to thinkin’ about how home is, why, it takes more than them - pretty tunes to hold me here. There’s music to our house that’s better - than all the brass bands in the world.” - </p> - <p> - He went out and they heard the jingle of his sleigh-bells threading - through the mellow notes of the cornet. - </p> - <p> - “He was allus sort of a soft old fool when you got under his shell,” - scoffed Uncle Buck, grinding his cane against the rusty stove. “What I - can’t understand is how Esther ever come ’round as she did. I allus - thought she was harder’n nails.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, it took Squire Phin to warm her ear-wax,” said Amazeen. “And when you - know how to handle a woman like that, why, you’ve got her—that’s - all. I cal’late there ain’t a man in the county that understands human - natur’ better’n Squire Phin does. He can handle ’em all right when - he makes up his mind to.” - </p> - <p> - Uncle Buck was plainly nettled by Amazeen’s air of easy confidence. - </p> - <p> - “Well, there’s one woman that he don’t seem to be able to handle—and - I reckon he’d like to at that,” he snorted. “Sylvene Willard ain’t hardly - spoke to him since he knocked her feller down.” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t cal’late as how you’ve got any right to call King Bradish her - feller,” objected Amazeen. - </p> - <p> - “I donno why not,” snapped Uncle Buck. “Jedge Willard come right out after - that happened and said that Sylvene and King was goin’ to git married at - Christmas time, and Sylvene didn’t dispute him. It’s past Christmas time - now, to be sure, but as I understand it, King is tied up in New York by - bus’ness and ain’t been able to git back since he went away a little spell - ago.” - </p> - <p> - “Little spell ago!” cried Amazeen. “He ain’t been back since he went away - that time in the fall when Hime’s el’phunt got loose.” - </p> - <p> - “Mebbe, but time slides away kind o’ fast,” grudgingly admitted Buck. - “Howsomever, they’ll git married all right when he comes back. If Coll - Willard says so, then they will, that’s all! Phin Look can’t stop it. His - cake was dough when he licked Bradish.” - </p> - <p> - “As I’ve allus understood the row, King had the right of it,” observed the - man behind the stove. - </p> - <p> - “Why, the Jedge himself told me,” said Buck, “that all King done in the - world was to step up to the Squire and call him into line for braggin’ - round how he’d cut out King the night before and walked home with Sylvene - from the schoolhouse out Dunham’s way. Jedge told me so himself. That’s - comin’ pretty straight!” - </p> - <p> - “Well, now, that don’t seem like Squire Phin Look,” broke in Amazeen, - wagging his head decisively. “I’ve heard that version, but it don’t seem - like Squire Phin—and we’ve known him a long time, too.” - </p> - <p> - “He ain’t ever given the lie to the Jedge,” said Buck. “He ain’t ever said - aye, yes or no about it. Nat’rally think, then, he must be ashamed of it, - wouldn’t ye? I tell ye, boys, when there’s a woman in the case we don’t - none of us know what the best of us might do. Squire Phin Look is an - almighty nice man, good and kind-hearted and smarter’n a whip. I’ve allus - stood up for him, and I was in the scheme——” He checked - himself suddenly in some confusion with a side glance at Amazeen. “I was - in hopes that the match wouldn’t come off with Bradish. But the Squire - went and lost his head and kicked up—-like the best do sometimes - when there’s a woman in the case. Sylvene Willard ain’t the woman to stand - that kind of bus’ness. You can’t blame her. I say she and Bradish will git - married, and you can mark my word on it.” - </p> - <p> - A man sat on a bit of board that was laid across an unheaded keg of nails. - He had been listening, elbows on his knees, his brown hands braiding and - unbraiding a length of rope with a sailor’s deftness. This man was Mate - Seekins of the <i>A. P. Bristol</i>, home in Palermo for his midwinter - lay-off. - </p> - <p> - “What do they hear here in town from Bradish?” he inquired. There was a - suppressed note of meaning in his voice that the little crowd did not - catch. - </p> - <p> - The men about the stove looked at each other. “Nothin’,” at last blurted - Uncle Buck. - </p> - <p> - “What bus’ness is he a-follerin’ of in New York?” asked Seekins. - </p> - <p> - “As near’s I’ve ever come to it,” said Buck, “him and the Jedge is in some - kind of financierin’ together and King’s handlin’ that end of it. But the - Jedge don’t put his bus’ness into the <i>Seaside Oracle</i> and King ain’t - the kind that writes letters to be read out loud here in Ase’s store,” he - added grimly. “I s’pose his mother hears reg’lar and the Jedge and - Sylvene, but the Bradishes and the Willards never messed in very thick - with their neighbours. Sum and substance is, we don’t know not the first - dum thing about King Bradish nor his bus’ness, nor why he closed up - bus’ness here in the hurry that he did and got out of the place. And I - donno as I care. I never had no use for the skunk, anyway.” - </p> - <p> - He pared a corner from a black plug of tobacco, stuck it into his cheek - and relapsed into dignified silence. - </p> - <p> - The man on the keg braided at his rope-end. - </p> - <p> - “I shouldn’t want him to do no gre’t amount of financierin’ for me,” he - said at last. “Bradish, I mean.” - </p> - <p> - “I donno ’bout that,” Amazeen said. “He was allus pretty sharp on a - dicker ’round here.” - </p> - <p> - “I say I shouldn’t want him to do my financierin’ for me,” persisted Mate - Seekins. - </p> - <p> - The group waited for him to go on, but he kept at his braiding. - </p> - <p> - “Well, you’ve gone that fur. Keep on,” commanded Uncle Buck. - </p> - <p> - “I ain’t no hand to peddle gossip,” said Seekins. - </p> - <p> - “Who said ye was?” Lysimachus’s tone was indignant. “And there ain’t no. - call for you to hint that we’re gossips here. If you ain’t man enough to - dast to say what you know, then keep still and much good may it do you.” - But the old man’s eyes gleamed with curiosity. “Half truths are wusser’n - whole lies,” he muttered. “I ain’t no hand to talk and tell,” went on - Seekins, “but when I say I don’t want him to financier for me I mean to - say that I don’t want any man handlin’ my money that keeps drunk as a - fiddler’s hoorah.” - </p> - <p> - The music from across the street bellowed in louder blast, for the store - door opened with a bang and Hiram Look came stamping in. - </p> - <p> - “Do me up a slab of cheese and plenty of crackers, Colonel Brickett,” he - called. “Wider’n that,” he snapped as Brickett set his knife on the - cheese. “Look’s Cornet Brass Band ain’t eatin’ no half rations so long as - old Hime himself is on hand to buy for ’em.” - </p> - <p> - He beamed on the circle of faces about the stove, for the inspiration of - his favourite tunes made him genial. - </p> - <p> - “How does that sound to you, old turkles?” he cried, with a backward jab - of his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of Hobbs’s hall. “It’s - sort of wakin’ up Palermo, hey?” - </p> - <p> - “I suppose it will be good enough when they can play without soundin’ like - bullfrogs with the croup,” returned Uncle Buck, sulkily. Hiram had come in - at just the time when he had edged forward to put some leading questions - to Mate Seekins. He turned to the sailor again. - </p> - <p> - “You was sayin’——” he began. - </p> - <p> - “You never heard nothin’ in your life before but a melodeon and a jew’s - harp, you old Fiji,” shouted Hiram, thrusting forward close to the stove. - “There’s about a half dozen of you old mossbacks that ain’t come to enough - to appreciate what I’m doin’ for this place. But I’ve got the crowd with - me. I’ll show ye in town meeting next March! I can run that band myself, - so fur’s that comes to; but I’m goin’ to make some of you old hogs of - taxpayers chip in to support it. I’m goin’ to have an article put in - appropriating two hundred dollars for band concerts next summer, and I’ll - carry it through.” - </p> - <p> - “This town won’t vote for no such dum foolishness,” retorted Buck. He - turned to Seekins again, his curiosity mastering his spirit of - controversy. - </p> - <p> - “You was sayin’ as how——” - </p> - <p> - “Bet you fifty, and put the money in Brickett’s hands right now,” bellowed - Hiram, ever eager for opportunities to browbeat the old men of the - village. He dug into his trousers pocket. - </p> - <p> - “Why don’t you wear that wad o’ money hung round your neck out in plain - sight?” demanded Uncle Lysimachus, angrily. “You seem bound and determined - to have it under our noses all the whol’ time.” - </p> - <p> - “Put up your stuff,” cried Hiram. “Make a pool if ye want to. I ain’t - afraid of the gang of you.” - </p> - <p> - He whirled and ran his hale eye along their faces. Dow Babb, who had been - chief of the Palermo hand-tub brigade for many years, unhooked his toe - from his instep, recrossed his legs and said with decision: - </p> - <p> - “You can’t run the <i>whole</i> of this town, Hime, even if you are - runnin’ a part of it jest now. You wait your turn with your brass band. - I’ve been before town meetin’ for four years, now, a-askin’ and implorin’ - the voters to appropriate enough to repair Hecla and buy some more hose. - They ain’t give me a cent. Now if you go to work and bull through any such - article in the warrant as you’re braggin’ you will, then all I’ve got to - say is that the next time a fire breaks out in the village, your darned - old band can go and play on it. The Hecla comp’ny never will.” Uncle Buck, - unable to control himself any longer, got up and pounded his cane on the - floor. - </p> - <p> - “I’ve heard all the tow-rowin’ I want to hear. Here I be tryin’ to talk - with Mr. Seekins about something that amounts to something. And ye can’t - hear yourself think. Take your cheese and your crackers, Hime Look, and go - over and stuff ’em into your toodle-oodlers. Let gentlemun that’s - a-talkin’ serious bus’ness go on with their serious bus’ness. Now, - Seekins, you said as how you’d seen King Bradish drunker’n a fiddler’s - hoorah. What else?” - </p> - <p> - “I never said I seen him,” returned the man, sullenly. - </p> - <p> - “It’s the same thing; you meant it. Go ahead.” The old man’s tone was - imperious. - </p> - <p> - Hiram and the rest of the crowd turned to him, inquiry on their faces. The - showman leaned forward with especial insistence. - </p> - <p> - “I ain’t no hand to tattle——” - </p> - <p> - “You said that before, consarn ye!” This persistent delay that baffled - Uncle Buck’s curiosity made him furious. - </p> - <p> - “No matter what you see or what you didn’t see,” said Hiram. “The idea is, - what do you <i>know?</i>” There was no resisting the force of - circumstances. “Well,” roared Seekins, “I know that King Bradish is - keepin’ full of licker in New York and throwin’ money right and left and - over his shoulder—or has been so long’s he had it to throw. He’s - gone to Tophet, that’s what he’s done, and if what I hear up at the other - end is true, he’s got a string hitched to certain parties in this place - and he’s goin’ to drag ’em with him. Now that’s all you’re goin’ to - git out of me,” he concluded, throwing the rope-end into the wood-box and - rising. “I don’t propose to git into no trouble by talkin’ and tellin’. - I’ve seen people that done that. If any’s interested, let ’em go to - New York and to the right people and they’ll find out for themselves.” - </p> - <p> - He pushed through the little circle and went out of the store. - </p> - <p> - Hiram seized his crackers and cheese and started after him, overtaking the - sailor in the middle of the square. - </p> - <p> - One after the other, the old men blunted their noses against the frosty - panes of Brickett’s front window, trying to spy and to hear. But only the - mumble of voices reached them, Hiram’s tone insistent, Seekins’s - deprecatory. - </p> - <p> - But at last Hiram slapped him cordially on the back and the two separated. - A sudden cessation in the band music showed that the refreshments had - arrived in the hall, and the old men yawned about Brickett’s stove and one - by one went home. - </p> - <p> - One or two persons saw Hiram Look drive out of the yard of the old place - the next forenoon and take the road toward Square Harbour, his tall hat - projecting just above the high back of his sleigh, and fat ear-muffs - cosily snuggling his ears. - </p> - <p> - These one or two asked “Figger-Four” Avery about the showman’s departure, - when he came to the store during the day, after a “fig" of tobacco. - </p> - <p> - “Here’s what he said to me,” stated Avery: “Says he, ‘I’m goin’ to Europe, - I-rope and A-rope after wild animiles, and I’ll be back when I git - damation good and ready. If you miss feedin’ Imogene on the dot or let the - fire git low in the stove, I’ll warp t’other leg for you.’ There! That’s - what he said, and if you can git any more out of it than what I have, - you’re welcome to. I guess you’d better give me another fig o’ terbacker, - Ase, for I’m goin’ to stay pretty clus to that barn till he gits back.” - </p> - <p> - “I s’pose you know all about el’phunts now, don’t you, Avery?” inquired - one of the men who lounged about the stove, toasting their shins. - </p> - <p> - “Wal, I know this much,” said “Figger-Four,” putting away his weed and - buttoning his coat before facing the cold; “I know that an el’phunt wants - meals reg’lar—a lot of it, can’t understand a joke and don’t like - music on the flute. There may be other things about ’em to know, - but they ain’t things that I need in my bus’ness.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVIII—YANKEE DISPOSITION IS NOT EXACTLY UNDERSTOOD, - </h2> - <h3> - EVEN BY ITS POSSESSORS. - </h3> - <p class="indent15"> - “Old Zibe Haines had a corn on his toe - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And it ached like ginger ev’ry step he’d go. - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - He reckoned that toe had all them pains - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Jest for to hector old Zibe Haines. - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - He grabbed up a mallet and a chisel, too, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And clear’n to the woodpile swore things blue. - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - He put that toe on the choppin’ block - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And off he whacked it, slap, ker-chock! - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And he throwed that toe ’bout ha’f a mile— - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Oh, that was old Zibe Haines’s style. - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Tum-diddy-dum and tum-diddy-dee, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Queer old crab was Haines, was he!” - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - —Narrated by Marriner Amazeen. - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>quire Phineas - Look, during the life of his love for Sylvena Willard, had become pretty - thoroughly accustomed to having his heart affairs marked “Continued till - next session,” as he half-bitterly termed it in his meditations. - </p> - <p> - Coupled with Squire Phin’s natural reserve was that quality of his trained - lawyer mind that was willing to abide delays till “his case was prepared.” - </p> - <p> - In some men this would have been timidity. - </p> - <p> - In others it would have been half-heartedness. - </p> - <p> - In Squire Phin it was fixity of purpose and the steady loyalty of a firm, - pure, true love that could wait. - </p> - <p> - Down in Smyrna the summer visitors still listen with mingled emotions to - the story of the loves of Moses Britt and Xoa Emerson. - </p> - <p> - After they became engaged Moses worked for eight years accumulating enough - money to buy three-eights of a fishing schooner. Xoa toiled at housework - in various families, picked blueberries for the canning factory, and, by - any employment that came to her hand, earned and saved for the little home - that they had planned. - </p> - <p> - “We won’t get married till we can have our house built and furnished and - ready to step into,” was the mark they had set thriftily for themselves. - </p> - <p> - The house went up, so old Mell Cowallis remarked, like the way - “Figger-Four” Avery walked—steady by jerks: one year the foundation, - another year the side walls and roof, a third year the chimneys and the - lathing and clapboards—and so on for successive seasons, according - as the fishing prospered and the work-stained fingers of Xoa tucked away - the clinking change and the worn dollar bills. - </p> - <p> - Now it came to the time when Xoa resolved to fulfill the dream of her life - and have a bow window of ample dimensions, the model of the one on Sheriff - Morton’s big house, where she had worked for years in the kitchen, envying - all the time the luxurious ease of the sheriff’s wife lolling on a divan - in the window. But this window meant postponing the marriage a year, and - with the house so nearly completed Moses had begun to express an entirely - natural anxiety to get married. - </p> - <p> - Xoa, with the bow window filling her vision, could not understand this - sudden haste in one who had been always as philosophic over delays as she - herself. - </p> - <p> - “You think more of your old bow winder than you do of me,” cried Moses, in - sudden jealousy. And he sailed away on a trip to the Banks, biting his - stubbly gray beard in pique. - </p> - <p> - And ere one week had gone a legacy came to Xoa from her aunt Persis—just - enough of a legacy to put on that bow window. So she hired carpenters in - haste and set them at work, determined to have her way before the return - of Moses. On one evening when the expanse of glass in that window was - glowing redly in the beams of the setting sun, the “Xoa and Laura” sailed - up the reach with her flag at half mast, and reported the loss of Moses - Britt and his dory mate, smashed under in a fog by a roaring steamship. - </p> - <p> - Those who know say that Xoa knelt all night in her new bow window, with - her face against the glass, and when morning came she called the - carpenters again, and with clamour of hammers and rasp of saws they took - off the bow window and boarded the side of the building up. And then—it - being a case where the solemn ceremony could be deferred till all was - ready—she secured a casket from the city, put into it all the - pathetic old clothes that had been turned over to her with Moses’s - dunnage-bag, called in the parson and the neighbours, and the funeral of - Moses Britt was decorously carried out in a house upon which the soul of - the bridegroom-elect could look down from on high and not take exceptions. - </p> - <p> - For forty years after that, until death took her, Xoa lived an old maid in - the bow-windowless house. - </p> - <p> - It is not likely that Squire Phin Look used this case or any others - similar for precedents in heart affairs, as he would have employed - law-court decisions in his legal practice, but he had in his New England - temperament a finer grade of the same iron-stone that is found in such - dispositions as those of Moses and Xoa. - </p> - <p> - So much for the steadiness and the reserve of his affection in the past. - </p> - <p> - Since that unfortunate day in the fall there had been something else than - reserve to make him walk hastily past the Willard place, to keep him away - from the little social gatherings in the meeting-house vestry, and he - avoided Sylvena Willard with as much anxiety as she appeared to avoid him. - He was as ashamed of that blow as he would have been of a crime. Now that - the rage of the provocation had departed, he knew that his act had been a - vulgar street affray—there was no other word for it in his - vocabulary. - </p> - <p> - When some of the jesters in the attorneys’ room at county court mentioned - the affair at the December term with many humorous inquiries, he was so - overwhelmed with shame that he asked continuance for most of his cases and - hurried home. - </p> - <p> - Yet he heard other things at that term of court that disquieted him more. - </p> - <p> - “Why, Look, I <i>know</i> it!” one of his lawyer friends had insisted, - when he ventured to remonstrate at certain gossip. “I don’t know how much - property Judge Willard has got, nor what resources are back of him. But I - do know that he is as pinched for ready money as the devil. I can talk - with you without it’s going any farther; but being a trustee in a savings - bank and a director in a national bank, I come pretty near knowing when a - man is hustling hard for loans, and you can tell how hard he is hustling - from the kind of collateral he is offering. I’ve got nothing against the - Judge, but I’m afraid he’s in over his head with Bradish. Your Bradish has - been a country plunger for a long time—and the country plunger is - the worst of the breed. He thinks he knows it all and is working the stock - market at arm’s length. I know, myself, that one bucket shop let him down - for sixteen thousand in a single blind pool. Willard seems to have played - fox with you folks in Palermo through it all, and, of course, he’s had a - great start of you with his reputation and all that. But if he’s your town - treasurer, as I hear he is, and custodian of about all the funds of widows - and orphans and old codgers in your town, give him a looking over and do - it right away. You can’t afford to let even a Willard dump the whole of - you—especially when it looks to me as though this Bradish is the - chap responsible for getting him into this mess and has gobbled most of - the money.” - </p> - <p> - But even with that warning to spur him, Squire Look allowed the weeks to - pass without setting about any thorough investigation of Judge Willard’s - finances. If he were any other than Seth Look’s boy—-Hiram Look’s - brother, he felt that the case would be different. Whenever he paused in - his work to ponder on the matter and on his duty to the citizens, he - groaned under his breath and put the thing away from him once more. - </p> - <p> - And as the winter went on the Squire found less and less time to think - upon anything but his own matters. - </p> - <p> - The State legislature had recognised his modest but just reputation as one - of the best-grounded “straight” lawyers in the State, and on the - recommendation of the judges had selected him as the reviser of the - statutes, a labour that he found exacting and absorbing. - </p> - <p> - Then on the heels of this work came a syndicate with a scheme for helping - municipalities to instal and own their own water plants, despite the - statutory restrictions that allow towns to assume so much debt and no - more. The syndicate had heard of the Squire’s legal invention of “water - districts” that he had studied out in the dumbly approving presence of his - “Creosote Supreme Court” and expounded to the amazement of lawyers who - studied for a while and then accepted. - </p> - <p> - And the syndicate would not listen to a nay and laid a certified check in - his hands of a size that would have caused Asa Brickett to swoon had he - realised that so large a consideration had passed over his head, and on - the first warming days of March thousands of picks and shovels were ready - to follow Squire Phineas Look when he had brushed away the last tangle of - litigation. - </p> - <p> - Uncle Buck had passed the necessary word among the veteran loafers who - used to occupy the lawyer’s shaky chairs. - </p> - <p> - “He’s busier’n a yaller dog with a tin can of snap-crackers tied to his - tail, and he don’t want nobody up there unless they come on straight - bus’ness.” - </p> - <p> - So all day long, whether the snow beat against the panes or the sun shone - warm upon his broad back down through the bare elms, the Squire sat at his - big table, his pen busy, scratchity-scratch, or his eyebrows frowning - above some volume of reports, his old dog Eli curled on the dusty floor at - his feet. - </p> - <p> - And the only ones who stamped up the slippery outside stairs were those - who came on business. - </p> - <p> - It was on business that Judge Collamore Willard came one snowy, blowy day - in March, the wind whipping his cloak about his skinny legs as he toiled - up the stairs leading to Squire Phin’s office. He came in with the gust - casting a last handful of snow at his back, as a roguish youth snowballs a - figure that is aged and eccentric. - </p> - <p> - It <i>was</i> a queer figure that sat slowly down in one of the Squire’s - chairs, unwrapping fold on fold of a huge shawl that was coiled about his - head and long, thin neck. He had pulled the mitten from one of his hands - and the gaunt phalanges looked like a bundle of reeds tied together by - skin-strips. The skin was speckled with the brown spots of age and the - hand fluttered as it tugged at the shawl. - </p> - <p> - The Squire put his knees against the edge of the table, sat back in his - chair, and poised his pen in silent amazement for a moment. Then he - pointed the pen at the stove. - </p> - <p> - “Better sit close, Judge,” he admonished. “The draughts get to sky-larking - through here pretty lively on windy days.” - </p> - <p> - “I ought not to have come out this day,” said the old man querulously. - “But I didn’t want to send word to you to come to my office for fear you - would think it strange and not come. And I felt that I had much need to - see you, Lawyer Look.” - </p> - <p> - “I would have come if you had sent word,” said the Squire, simply. He did - not utter his curt “What can I do for you?” so common with him in these - busy times, but looked at his visitor with inquiring gaze. - </p> - <p> - “Haven’t you got any influence or control over that fool brother of - yours?” demanded the Judge, bluntly and indignantly. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t care to reply to questions of that sort put in that fashion,” - returned the lawyer, knitting his brows. - </p> - <p> - Willard stared a moment into his face with its hard lines and then shifted - his eyes under the steady gaze of the Squire. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t mean to be tart with you, Mr. Look,” he said, moderating his - tone, “but I don’t think you ought to let your brother come into this - town, after all that’s happened, and do what he is trying to do to me and - mine. You’re a man of standing and I’m going to say to you that I think - you are above such things.” - </p> - <p> - His apology was awkward and half-hearted. - </p> - <p> - “Aren’t you going to handle him and prevent him from making a fool of - himself?” - </p> - <p> - “I don’t care to enter into any statement to you, Judge Willard, of - certain family discussions that have already occurred between my brother - and myself. I simply want to state for your benefit that I have no - sympathy with certain movements of his. But my brother’s business is his - own, Judge. He has adopted his own manner of living and occupies his own - apartments at our house, and if you care to talk this matter over with him - you’ll find him there at any time. I shall not interfere in his affairs.” - </p> - <p> - “I can’t talk with him,” remonstrated the old man. “There isn’t any sense - in him. With him it is either a curse or a blow, and the Willard family - has had enough of both from him. I have come to talk with you, Mr. Look. - Whatever else I have said to you and of you, I’ll acknowledge that you are - a fair man to talk with.” - </p> - <p> - The lawyer made no reply. - </p> - <p> - “I’ll say nothing to you of his under-handed tricks to interfere in my - business of loans and private banking,” went on Willard, stroking his - trembling hand along his withered neck. “But now he is going to mix into - town politics with his brass band and his free suppers and free dances and - his circus flapdoodle. It’s hurting this town, Lawyer Look, and I appeal - to you as a good citizen of Palermo to pull him back and make him behave - himself and not bring discredit on the place that I and mine before me - have been proud of so long.” There was some dignity as well as earnest - appeal in the old man’s voice. - </p> - <p> - “I understand that he has the hoodlums with him,” he went on. “He can make - a lot of trouble in our town meeting this month. We have always got along - so well that it will be a shame to bring uproar and contention and - cheapness into our town affairs, Mr. Look.” - </p> - <p> - Delicacy of touch at critical moments was not one of Squire Phineas Look’s - attributes. Now he leaned his elbows on the table, locked his fingers - together, and bending toward the old man said bluntly: - </p> - <p> - “What you mean is, that it would be bad for you if you were defeated for - town treasurer, after your thirty years of service, since that would mean - that your books would be examined.” - </p> - <p> - He pitied Willard when he crumpled down in his chair. In the silence the - lawyer had the queer thought come to him that the old man’s flabby - neck-skin looked like turkey’s wattles, flushed with dull red as they were - now. - </p> - <p> - “That is a cruel taunt—an unjust advantage to take of a man who has - served his town so many years, Lawyer Look. I’ll own to you that I do have - some pride in the fact that I have been treasurer of this town so long. I - have set my heart on being reelected. It’s an old man’s whim, Mr. Look—just - an old man’s whim, and it would hurt my feelings cruelly if the voters - allowed your brother to work out his grudge in that way. If I could only - have another year—if I——” - </p> - <p> - The lawyer, who had been steadily staring into his shifting eyes, broke in - upon his faltering appeal. - </p> - <p> - “I always hate to see any living creature squirm, whether it’s an - angle-worm on a hook or a man on the rack of his own conscience,” he said - in his blunt, brusque manner. “I never delighted in torturing anything, - Judge. This is something like killing a creature to put it out of its - misery, but I’m not going to beat about the bush.” - </p> - <p> - Willard had hooked his thin hands around the rungs of his chair and was - staring at the attorney with horror in his eyes. - </p> - <p> - “I know why you want to be re-elected town treasurer,” went on the Squire. - “You want to cover up the fact that you’re an embezzler of almost forty - thousand dollars of the town’s funds——-Oh, I know what you are - going to say,” he cried, holding up his hand; “you are going to say that - you’ve only hired this money on town’s notes and are going to pay it back, - and that if you can be re-elected no one will be the wiser. You are - begging for time, Judge. But I tell you”—he stood up and pounded the - table—“you have stolen that money! You cannot pay it back. It’s no - use for you to deceive me by stories. Every dollar of property you have in - the world is mortgaged for every cent it is worth, and that money and the - money you have stolen from this town have gone—gone down into that - hole of speculation, to the side of which King Bradish led with his - devilish arts and promises. You’re ruined, Judge Willard, you’re ruined—and - God only knows how many other poor people you will drag down with you in - this town—people whose little capital is all in your hands! I curse - Bradish, first, for I believe if it hadn’t been for him no Willard would - have turned out of the straight path his ancestors always followed. But I - curse you, Judge Willard, for having allowed yourself to be inveigled into - dishonesty and the betrayal of the great trust that has been placed in - your hands. You have called me various names in the past,” he went on, his - eyes flashing and the passionate anger of the Look temperament getting the - better of his self-control; “I simply want to say to you now that you”—he - leaned forward, supporting himself by his knuckles on the table—“are - as miserable a thief as I ever knew. For when you fall—a man trusted - by all—you have taken away Palermo’s strongest prop of good example - from the poor, weak devils who are trying to be honest in their poverty.” - </p> - <p> - For a long time the two men looked at each other, the Squire stern and - angry, the Judge writhing in his self-abasement. - </p> - <p> - Then the old man’s secret passed from his desperate clinch on it. He - trembled like a leaf, but there was a certain air of relief in his - confession and appeal. - </p> - <p> - “God help me, Squire,” he wailed. “No, God cannot help me. But you can. I - am in awful trouble, Squire Look—awful! But it mustn’t be exposed - now, it mustn’t. If I can only tide it over this town meeting I can work - out of it. We got caught on the wrong side, King and I. It happened that - way right along until I knew it was wrong for us to work at arm’s length - from the market. But now that King is up there where he can study things, - we’re coming out all right. We can’t help coming out all right. I have sat - up night after night for weeks, Squire, and figured. I haven’t slept for - weeks and weeks. I have raked and scraped together all I could and now we - are going to win. King has it in his hands. It’s going to win, I tell you! - Only help me to tide it over this town meeting, Squire. It was a mistake - going into it. I realise it now. But I had to stay in. I was tied up with - King. But this time we are going to win. We can’t help winning. Here’s - King’s letter explaining the last deal.” - </p> - <p> - He tore at the breast of his frock coat and pulled out a crumpled - envelope. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, it’s got to come out right now,” the old man mumbled on appealingly. - “I have sat up nights at my desk till my eyes were almost burned out, - planning and figuring. Here’s the letter, Squire. I’m going to be honest - with you at last. You can help me. You’ve got to help me!” - </p> - <p> - His trembling fingers pulled the letter from the envelope, but the lawyer - motioned it back. - </p> - <p> - “Excuse me, Judge,” he said, “but I don’t want to touch it. I’d rather - take hold of an adder from Watson’s bog. There’s less poison in the adder. - He has poisoned you through and through, Judge. I know more of King - Bradish in New York than you do. I——” - </p> - <p> - “It’s your brother that has come back and lied about him!” cried the old - man with reviving passion. “It’s all lies! Lies!” - </p> - <p> - “I say that I know about King Bradish,” pursued the lawyer with the calm, - dispassionate tone of utter conviction. “He has become a rake, a - spendthrift and a drunkard. He was all three when he lived here, but he - hid his passions. He ran away because he had stolen from you and was - afraid to face your ruin. He has thrown away the money you have sent to - him. You have nothing to hope from him, Judge. If I am cruel I am at least - honest, for now is the time for honesty. You are in an awful position. - Glossing over the situation cannot help you.” - </p> - <p> - He looked with pity into the gray face of the village magnate, for he - never saw anguish drawn in more agonising lines on the human countenance. - Then the face puckered with the sudden emotion of an old man, wearied, - driven to his last ditch and become a child again. He wept weakly, and the - lawyer sat back in his chair and watched him without a word, his brows - knitted in thought. - </p> - <p> - At last the old man rose and gathered his shawl about his neck. With a - pitiful attempt he had regained some of the old-time dignity. - </p> - <p> - “I had no right to come to you, Mr. Look,” he said. “I didn’t realise how - the interview would come out. I hoped that you would control your brother, - that’s all, and give me one chance to save myself from State’s prison. I - can understand perfectly why you should not be willing to help. I don’t - blame you. Probably I should do the same under similar circumstances. It’s - only human nature. Excuse me for giving way, but—it was pretty - sudden for an old man.” His lips quivered. - </p> - <p> - The Squire overtook him at the door and led him back to his chair gently, - but with a quiet decision that the Judge did not attempt to resist. Then - the lawyer leaned against one corner of the table and looked down on the - man before him. - </p> - <p> - “It’s bad, Judge Willard! It’s bad,” he said earnestly. “Both of us have - passed our opinions of each other in the past, and it didn’t do either of - us any good. Neither of us will now make any false pretences of friendship - or forgiveness. We’ll leave affairs between us just as they stand. I am - going to own up to you that in an investigation of the town’s affairs I - shall show up badly myself, for I have been knowing to irregularities for - some months and I have no explanation to offer why I did not report and - interfere. It is for my interest, therefore, to attempt to arrange this - matter. It is for the interest of Palermo in general to arrange it if we - can. Your family has been our model of integrity for a long time. To say - nothing of money loss, the showing up of this terrible thing will have an - effect on morals and business confidence that our poor little town will - not recover from in years. It is on my own and the people’s account that I - am willing to say this to you—and that is: If it is within the power - of one man to do it, I will try to avert this calamity from this town. I - cannot tell you just how, for I do not know myself. I haven’t had time to - think about it. It is too painful to talk about any longer now. Go home - and put your affairs into such shape that I may determine your obligations - and your resources.” - </p> - <p> - The Judge weakly stammered promises, explanations and appeal, and would - have stayed, but the lawyer, with some impatience, helped him to tuck his - shawl about his neck, handed him his cane and opened the outside door. - </p> - <p> - But he stopped him on the threshold. - </p> - <p> - “If I hear that you have sent one more dollar to Bradish or have had truck - or dealing of any sort with him after this talk of ours, I’ll have no more - to do with the affair. I’m not much of a man to threaten, but that’s - something you can depend upon.” - </p> - <p> - The lawyer stood at his side window and watched the old man buffeting his - way up the street, the corners of his shawl streaming on the wind, his - slender legs quivering like reeds. - </p> - <p> - “I’d hate to be cross-examined on a witness stand as to why I made such a - promise to him,” he muttered, and then he put another stick into the - stove, spatted his hands, gave the old dog an affectionate cuff, and went - back to his work. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIX—SQUIRE PHIN SEES AND REPLEVINS WHAT BELONGS TO HIM - </h2> - <h3> - IN MANNER DECIDEDLY SUMMARY - </h3> - <p class="indent15"> - Then twice and thrice the youth’s parched lips - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Strive hard to frame the longed-for word; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And twice and thrice he tries again, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Yet not a single sound is heard. - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - There’s just an upward flash of eyes - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Like starlight in a forest pool; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - She may have said, “Take heart, dear one!” - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - She may have said, “Go on, thou fool!” - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - —The “Quaker Wooing.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>ome of the older - voters in Palermo relate that once a constable obeyed the injunction to - post a caucus call “in a public place” by sticking the paper on the wall - under the roller towel in Asa Brickett’s store. It is further related that - no one heard of that caucus until it was over, except the few chosen ones - let into the secret. - </p> - <p> - But the warrant for the annual town meeting in Palermo that March, done in - the best roundhand of the second selectman, one copy tacked onto the - townhouse door, another copy pasted up in the post-office, another nailed - to the round centre post in Brickett’s store, received the careful - attention of every voter. - </p> - <p> - Each sheet was banded by several broad smooches that distinguished the - articles in the warrant to which especial public interest attached. Each - voter, as he read these, carefully ran his finger along the lines across - the paper, so as not to miss a word, for it was understood that the new - faction in town politics, captained by Hiram Look, had obtained the - insertion of those articles. - </p> - <p> - One was, “To see if the town will vote a sum of money for the support of - the ‘Look Cornet Brass Band,’ or act anything thereto.” - </p> - <p> - Popular interest in this measure was shown by a fair amount of - discoloration on the paper. - </p> - <p> - A deeper tint attached to Article 15: “To see if the town will vote to pay - its floating indebtedness, statement of complete amount of same to be - furnished the voters from his books by the town treasurer prior to the - call for the ballot.” - </p> - <p> - Article 16 was banded darkest of any. It was: “To see if the town will - vote to oblige its treasurer to secure bonds acceptable to the selectmen.” - </p> - <p> - The people discussed these articles freely, but only as evidence that - Hiram Look was still busy at the working out of the old grudge against the - Willard family. No hint that irregularities existed in Judge Willard’s - accounts had been breathed. - </p> - <p> - First of all, he had borrowed shrewdly from such men as Sumner Badger, who - clung to their little money secrets desperately, secure in their faith in - a Willard. - </p> - <p> - Squire Phin Look was silent with the silence of a man who walks beneath an - avalanche poised for its plunge, and realises all the danger. - </p> - <p> - The tempestuous Hiram, with teeth set close and growling under his breath - since his return from New York, was silent from motives ingrained in his - showman’s temperament. The fall of Palermo’s tower of financial strength - was a sensation that he was planning with as full an eye to the dramatic - as he would have planned a slide for life from the peak of the round-top. - </p> - <p> - “Blast him,” he muttered to Simon over and over in the moments when he - “had to talk to some one or bust,” as he expressed it, “he has always put - the twisters on our fam’ly before the face and eyes of the people. It’s - there I’ll take him, then! I wouldn’t even joggle him now. I want him just - as high on the pedestal as he can be. Not a whisper, or I’ll murder you. I - want him high, I tell ye! And with these two hands I’ll push him off - whilst they are all lookin’ at him. And he’ll fall a thousand miles a - minute and he’ll light in a cloud of splinters that will make the sky - dark. And then I’ll jump on him and crow three times and a tiger, whilst - the band plays ‘Yankee Doodle Dandy.’” - </p> - <p> - During these harangues Peak wriggled his toes in his carpet slippers and - blinked appreciatively, but without venturing a word. - </p> - <p> - “God!” blurted Hiram, spanking his hands upon his knees, “I’m givin’ him a - taste of the ling’rin’ agony he gave my poor old father till he run him - under ground. I’ve let him know just enough, Sime, to realise that I’ve - got the hooks fast into him. Now let him squirm! There ain’t nothin’ that - ties human natur’ into knots like bein’ sentenced and knowin’ the day set - for the hangin’. Old Coll Willard knows it’s for town-meetin’ day, and - that I’ve got the rope soaped for him. Let him squirm! He’s a-writin’ two - letters a day to that drunk in New York and firin’ along three telegrams - daily, sweatin’ blood all the time. Let him squirm! I wonder now if he - can’t see in his dreams poor old Seth Look beggin’ for a little leeway on - the notes the old pirate had bought up against our fam’ly. He’s been down - on his knees to Phin already.” - </p> - <p> - Hiram rubbed his rough palms with satisfaction. - </p> - <p> - “Ain’t your brother li’ble to daub in, seein’ that him and you ain’t - gittin’ along the best ever was jest now?” inquired Peak. - </p> - <p> - “My brother is a fool in some directions, as I’m free to say both to him - and to inquirin’ friends,” reported Hiram. “But he’s a fool only about so - fur and then he stops. Don’t you set up nights worryin’ about that, Sime. - Phin has got a blister or two from the Willard fam’ly lately and the - swellin’ ain’t gone down yet.” - </p> - <p> - After freeing his mind on such occasions as this, Hiram lighted another of - his long cigars, hunched down in his chair, and perused figures in a - dog’s-eared notebook with intense satisfaction. - </p> - <p> - On the afternoon of the day before town meeting something that Squire Phin - had been vaguely dreading happened to him. - </p> - <p> - He was walking slowly home, avoiding the sidewalk pools that the chill of - late afternoon had crusted. His head was bowed, either in thought or to - watch his steps, and he did not see Sylvena Willard standing at the gate - until she spoke to him. - </p> - <p> - “Phineas, I would not have troubled you, but the matter is of the utmost - importance. I do not feel like discussing it by the roadside. Won’t you - step to the house?” - </p> - <p> - He glanced at her with a sort of timidity in his demeanour. Her face, half - shielded by the shawl caught lightly around her head, was very grave. It - seemed to him that her temple locks had more gray in them than when he saw - her last. - </p> - <p> - He hesitated only for a moment, then opened the iron gate and accompanied - her up the broad path to the porch. Neither spoke on the way. - </p> - <p> - In the big, gloomy parlour, in the corners of which old-fashioned chairs - of dark wood seemed to lurk like uncouth animals in the afternoon shadows, - he sat gazing at her, still without speaking. - </p> - <p> - Her hands picked restlessly at the fringes of the shawl that she had - dropped across her lap. - </p> - <p> - Beyond the closed double doors that shut off the adjoining room there - sounded music faintly. It was the tinkly melody of an automatic music box, - but the Squire, having no very keen ear for tunes, did not recognise what - this one was playing, only vaguely realising that it was something he had - heard before, probably at a vestry meeting. It seemed to have a hymn - flavour. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know enough about business to talk this matter over with you as - it should be discussed, Phin-eas,” she said at last. “I only know that - some dreadful trouble is killing my poor father. And I also know that your - brother is at the bottom of it. I have found out that he wants to have - father dismissed from office to-morrow. Father is old and childish, - Phineas. In the last few months he has grown much more so. He is breaking - down. I can see it, for I have a loving daughter’s eyes. I wish he did not - care for the office. It is only a little one, I know. But the Willards - have been treasurers of the town for many years, and he seems to have set - his heart on holding it. It is a small favour for an old man to ask, - Phineas, and you know that there is no honour that father thinks as much - of as he does an honour from his own people.” - </p> - <p> - She looked at him wistfully. Yet he missed the old-time frank and candid - friendship in her eyes. - </p> - <p> - Now it came to him suddenly that the tune on the music box in the other - room was, “Where is My Wandering Boy To-night?” - </p> - <p> - “It is King’s mother,” she said, noting his look at the closed door. “She - is very lonely nowadays and spends her afternoons with me. She seems to - enjoy listening to the little music box that the Sunday-school gave to me. - I hope it doesn’t disturb you. We have grown used to it here in the house. - As to the office that father——” - </p> - <p> - “I am only one of the voters in this town,” he said brusquely. The kindly - sympathy had suddenly gone out of his face. A curious feeling of hostility - entered his heart. The sudden angry thought came to him in these - surroundings, and with that element on the other side of the door, “I’m - only Seth Look’s boy, to be pitied, then used, then pitied some more and - tossed aside.” - </p> - <p> - “There is no one who exerts as much influence as you,” she persisted. “But - I don’t appeal to you to secure for my father an office to which he is - entitled by all fair play.” Her tone was proud now. “I only ask you to - restrain that wretched brother of yours, who apparently has come back to - this town simply and solely to make trouble. He is meddling in affairs - that do not concern him; he is stirring up strife and factions in our - town, and for the credit of Palermo and your family it is your duty to put - him where he belongs.” - </p> - <p> - The subdued clicking of a spring ratchet had sounded in the other room, - and now the music box started in again on “Where is My Wandering Boy - To-night?” - </p> - <p> - “Where he belongs, eh?” he said in a voice that he tried to make calm. - “And where would that be?” - </p> - <p> - “Well, somewhere so far away that we’d never again hear the bellow of that - elephant and the discord of that brass band,” she replied smartly, for the - suppressed sneer in his tone touched her. - </p> - <p> - “So it’s my wild beast brother who is responsible for all the troubles of - your father, and you want me to cage him and ship him out of town?” - </p> - <p> - He scowled at the door that shut off the music box and its persistent - operator. - </p> - <p> - “Night after night my poor old father sits there in his office alone, - white and sick and weak and——” - </p> - <p> - “I’ve seen a poor old father sit up nights, too,” he broke in, “and he was - sitting up fighting off mortgages and executions and bills of sale let - loose on him by <i>your</i> father before he tucked himself away on his - bed of down. Don’t let us get to comparing fathers, Sylvena! It will not - be profitable.” - </p> - <p> - His tone was harsh and his eyes flashed. - </p> - <p> - “But it’s <i>my</i> father,” she cried, “and I’ll fight for him. It’s well - to know who all our enemies are. I was shocked and disappointed, Phineas, - when you——” - </p> - <p> - “Not one word about that affair—not a word from you!” he commanded. - “You can tell me nothing that I don’t know and understand.” - </p> - <p> - She paused stammeringly, frightened by his heat. After a moment she rose - and pushed back her chair. - </p> - <p> - “If I am to class you with your brother,” she began, but he checked her - again by a furious exclamation. He stood up and threw upon his chair the - soft hat that he had been crumpling between his broad palms. The music box - kept on its monotonous tune. - </p> - <p> - “That’s enough about my brother—enough!” he cried. “You are bound to - have it that he is the man who has made your father sleepless and old, and - childish and haggard. You are facing Hime Look—the Look family, as - though it were your only enemy, when the wolf is behind you, Sylvena, - behind you!” - </p> - <p> - His voice was so intense that she cast a look over her shoulder - instinctively. - </p> - <p> - He came close to her, took her by both arms and held her so. - </p> - <p> - “You listen to me,” he said, with tone of the master. “I don’t know very - well how to make love. I never have known. I even was fool enough and - quixotic enough to think I’d let another man have you if that would make - you happy. But I know now that I wouldn’t. I know that you are mine. I’m - going to be so much of a braggart now—so conceited that you won’t - recognise me! I’m going to say to you that you have never loved any one - else but me, and you never will love any one else. But life has been too - easy for you, Sylvena, and your heart has never been stirred and awakened - like the hearts of some of us poor devils. You have followed your one duty - as you saw it. Others have filched from me, who deserved it most, this bit - of love, that bit of loyalty. Now I, Phineas Look, stand forth here and - demand my own. Understand me! I demand it. You are mine, Sylvie Willard, - because I love you better than myself. You are mine because you love me. - You are mine because you need my arm about you in the bitterest hour of - your life. That hour is now upon you. I’m going to strike the blow, - Sylvie, because it will make you mine.” - </p> - <p> - His voice trembled in sympathy for her. But he went on: - </p> - <p> - “It is not my brother who is keeping your father awake. It is King - Bradish, the rascal, the sneak, the drunken villain who has plunged him - into ruin. It has been weeks—yes, months—since you or your - father, or even his own mother, have received a word from him.” - </p> - <p> - He checked the expostulation that was on her lips. Her eyes were wide and - fixed on his. Her face worked pitifully. - </p> - <p> - “His mother has lied for him. You have lied for him, Sylvie, because your - father asked it of you. I know all about it. There are times when a - woman’s lie for a man is holy, but not in this case. I say to you that - King Bradish is a profligate drunkard, a thief—a worse than thief, - for he has dragged your father into dishonesty as well as ruin. There! - There’s the bitter blow. Bear it, Sylvie, bear it, for it will make a - truer, nobler woman of you.” - </p> - <p> - Her knees trembled so that he put his arm about her. The music box started - in once more on the same tune. - </p> - <p> - With a growl under his breath he placed the half fainting woman on her - chair, strode into the hall and entered the other room by a side door. He - seized the music box from the lap of the astonished and frightened - operator, slammed up a window and threw it as far as he could. Its - plaintive query ceased in a crash. - </p> - <p> - He found Sylvena on her knees beside the chair, clutching the rungs and - staring into vacancy. He knelt beside her and took her white face into his - strong hands. - </p> - <p> - “Little girl,” he said, “forgive all of my brutal ways. Forgive what I - just did. But perhaps it was that infernal tune that made me so cruel with - you and so blunt. I love you! I love you! I can’t say that with all the - pretty words that some men use, for I haven’t had practice, Sylvie. Please - put that much to my credit. But I love you. I cannot <i>say</i> any more—-but - I can <i>do!</i>” - </p> - <p> - His voice was firm and full of rugged encouragement. - </p> - <p> - “I have told you the bitter truth about your father. Honesty is best - between folks who are going to be married.” He spoke this with a tone of - conviction that brought her astonished gaze up to meet his. “You had to - know it. I have told you. You are a brave woman, and you can bear it. You - can bear it because from this moment I put my body, my strength, my - brains, my love, my eternal devotion between you and all those who would - be your enemies. Your battles are now my battles. My ways must henceforth - be your ways. I have told your father that I would help. Go and talk with - him, poor girl. The truth is bitter, but it’s time now to be honest. Don’t - say anything to me now. I have said enough for both. And I am going away - to do my best for you and yours, knowing that a good and true woman will - be ready some day to tell me that she loves me best of all the world.” - </p> - <p> - He still held her face between his hands, and bent and kissed her on her - forehead and then on her lips. She attempted to say something, but he - gently kissed her once more to check her speech, then rose, took his hat - from the chair and went out of the house. - </p> - <p> - The old dog was waiting for him on the porch, and gave him an amiable - glance from appreciative eyes. - </p> - <p> - “It isn’t the sort of wooing that’s laid down in the books, Eli,” muttered - the Squire; “but I reckon that when you’ve made up your mind that a thing - really belongs to you the best thing to do is to go right ahead and - replevin.” - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XX—PALERMO’S “MARCH MEETIN’” - </h2> - <h3> - HOW IT WAS PLANNED TO BE RUN, AND HOW IT WAS RUN - </h3> - <p class="indent20"> - When a hen is bound to set - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Seems as if ’tain’t etiket - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Dousin’ her in water till - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - She’s connected with a chill. - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Seems as though ’twas skursely right - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Givin’ her a dreadful fright, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Tyin’ rags around her tail, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Poundin’ on an old tin pail, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Chasin’ her around the yard— - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Seems as though ’twas kind of hard - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Bein’ kicked and ammed and shooed - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - ‘Cause she wants to raise a brood. - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - —Meditations by Bill Benson’s Boy. - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">P</span>alermo’s town - house is like a roofed dry goods box, its clapboards unpainted and - weather-beaten. It is perched on the gray ledges of Cross Hill in the - centre of the town in order to accommodate the three villages, and here in - lonely state, with no other building nearer than half a mile, it faces a - buffet from every gale and a drenching from every storm. It is opened once - each year—for the annual town meeting in March. - </p> - <p> - Solomon Norton, who combined in his person the duties of Palermo’s hearse - driver, sexton and custodian of public buildings, struggled with the rusty - padlock on the outer door of the town house, and then stamped in and - sniffed at the musty atmosphere. The March sun was just rising, and - Solomon Norton was in good season. - </p> - <p> - “Canned terbacker smoke and left-over speeches,” he growled. “I donno - which smells wust.” - </p> - <p> - He forced up the warped windows and began to sweep with a stout broom. The - floor was thickly sprinkled with stale sawdust, in which were flotsam of - charred matches, cigar stubs and pipe dottles. The crumpled ballots of - last year’s election lay scattered everywhere. In a few moments the March - breezes were playing with the dust clouds that rolled from open doors and - windows. - </p> - <p> - The early vanguard of Palermo’s voters was even then on hand—a few - men grouped around horses of uncertain age, whose points and pedigrees - they were discussing with animation. The first “shift” of the day had - already been made, and a tall man with ginger-coloured whiskers was - unbuckling the harness from a stump-tailed bay horse. The man who had - traded with him was as briskly taking the harness from a rangy gray mare. - </p> - <p> - “Now honest, Lem,” whined the tall man over his shoulder, “what’s the - ‘out’ with her? ’Tain’t fair if you don’t tell me, if it’s anything - dang’rous.” - </p> - <p> - The other man chuckled, and the tall man repeated his plaintive appeal. - But it was only after the transfer of harness had been completed that the - ex-owner of the gray mare replied: - </p> - <p> - “It’s understood there ain’t goin’ to be no backin’ outs?” he inquired, - after he had again poked a swelling on the stump-tailed horse’s leg and - noted with satisfaction that the animal did not wince. “I gen’-rally - believe in lettin’ t’other feller find the ‘outs’ for hisself.” - </p> - <p> - “I ain’t goin’ to cry-baby unless she’s a biter—and swappin’ biters - ain’t no fair,” protested the tall man. - </p> - <p> - “No danger of her bitin’ anything harder’n porridge with them teeth,” said - the man called Lem, with great good humour. “I’d jest’s soon tell ye. - She’s high pressur’.” - </p> - <p> - “Wind’s broke, hey?” - </p> - <p> - “’Ep!” - </p> - <p> - “Bad?” The tall man eyed the gray mare with interest. - </p> - <p> - “Wa-a-al,” drawled the other, buckling the ends of his reins and preparing - to climb into his waggon, “she ain’t blowed out ary cylinder head yit, but - she sartinly does whistle loud enough so’t your wife can git supper ready - on to the table after she begins to hear ye comin’.” - </p> - <p> - The bystanders laughed, and Lem climbed into his waggon in still greater - good humour. He turned a beaming face on the new owner of the gray mare. - </p> - <p> - The aforesaid owner of the gray mare was not a whit disconcerted. He - pulled a bit of strap iron from his pocket and pinched it over the mare’s - nostrils. - </p> - <p> - “There’s some ‘outs’ that’s wusser’n whistlin’,” he said mysteriously as - he adjusted the strap iron. “You might as well git your laugh in now, Lem. - There’s nothin’ like gittin’ in a laugh at one end or t’other of a trade.” - </p> - <p> - Most of Lem’s gayety left him, and he looked at the stump-tailed horse - with some anxiety. - </p> - <p> - “Now look-a-here, Ben,” said he, “I don’t want no circus animile tucked - off onto me to-day, for I’ve took a contract from Hime Look to haul some - of the old lamed-up codgers to town meetin’.” - </p> - <p> - “You didn’t say nothin’ to me about your contracts,” replied the tall man, - clawing a freckled hand through his beard. “All I got to say is, lamed-up - old codgers better crawl here on their hands and knees instead of ride - with you. Now, you know there ain’t goin’ to be no backin’ outs on this - trade,” he expostulated as he saw a dubious look come on Lem’s face. - </p> - <p> - “Who said there was goin’ to be?” retorted the other. He started to lay - the reins down across the dasher with the evident intent of getting out to - investigate his purchase a little closer, when the horse, who had been - peering around at him from the corner of a bloodshot eye, performed a - sudden and surprising action. He whirled his stump of a tail as though it - worked on a pivot, clutched the reins under it, and started with a jump - that lifted both fore wheels of the waggon off the ground. - </p> - <p> - The man tugged desperately at the reins, his feet against the dasher, but - the “webbin’s” remained fixed under the tail, and the horse kept on down - the muddy road with speed undiminished. When the outfit went out of sight - around a turn the man was down on his knees tugging at the stump and - shouting “Whoa!” - </p> - <p> - “I reckon,” said the possessor of the gray mare, twirling a strand of his - ginger-coloured beard into a spill and reflectively tickling his nose, - “that Lem has got holt of a pa’snip there that he won’t pull up in no - great hurry. That’s a hoss,” he continued, turning to the bystanders, who - had watched the runaway with astonished silence, “that I got plastered on - to me about three weeks ago and then found out that I’d got holt of that - Iron Tail Ike, as they call him. He’s give more folks a h’ist than any - other hoss in this county.” - </p> - <p> - “What will happen to Lem?” inquired one of the men. - </p> - <p> - “It all depends on how high he flies and what he strikes on when he comes - down,” calmly answered the tall man. - </p> - <p> - “Hoss swappin’ is hoss swappin’, of course,” said another in the group; - “but this sellin’ folks blastin’ powder with red hair on it ain’t very - neighbourly, as I look at it.” - </p> - <p> - “Any man that grins at me ’cause he thinks he’s got me stuck and - sells himself out to haul voters for that Hiram Look can nat’rally expect - to have somethin’ comin’ to him and can’t blame nobody if it comes,” - replied the callous tall man. “I’m goin’ to haul men that will vote for - law and order in this town and for them that’s allus led us as citerzens - ought to be led—and that’s with pride and dignity. This slambangin’ - style and tryin’ to throw down good men ain’t my notion, and I’m goin’ out - to hunt up folks that think my way.” - </p> - <p> - He hopped over the wheel, tucked his long legs under the waggon seat, and - drove away, the gray mare wheezing past the restraining strap iron. - </p> - <p> - A man who had been standing in the lee of the town house trying to light - his pipe came away coughing and strangling. - </p> - <p> - “A chap that runs a threshing machine, like I do, can stand a fair amount - of dust,” he said, wiping the tears from his eyes; “but I got a couple of - whiffs from the tail-end of ‘Wolf’ Doughty’s last year’s speech as it come - out o’ that winder there, and I’ll be blamed if it didn’t almost put me - out of bus’ness.” The men in the little crowd grinned at him. - </p> - <p> - “I’m hearin’ that it will be a hotter one that ‘Wolf’ makes this year,” - said one of the men. “He’s got most of the Dunham deestrick crowd lined up - ag’inst Squire Phin’s clique this year.” - </p> - <p> - “Hime let him have four hundred on a second mo’gidge,” said another. “You - hold a silver dollar in front of ‘Wolf’ and he can’t see over nor around - it.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, it goes furder back this time,” returned the first speaker. “The - Dunham deestrickers ain’t ever forgive the Squire for yankin’ the Haskell - girl away from ’em just when they was gittin’ ready to make a meal - off her. It’s lucky the women-folks out that way can’t vote. I reckon - they’d swing town meetin’ ag’inst him.” - </p> - <p> - “It’s li’ble to be swung, as ’tis,” rejoined another man. “I tell - ye Hime Look is cuttin’ a bigger swath in this town nowadays than most - folks realise. It’s money that talks, and he’s been puttin’ out a lot of - it one way and another.” - </p> - <p> - “It’s a fact, ain’t it, that him and the Squire don’t hitch at all?” - queried a bystander as he crooked his leg to light a match. - </p> - <p> - “Wa-a-al,” drawled another voter humorously, “Hime ain’t tried to black - the Squire’s eye yit, the same as he has most others in town, but I - shouldn’t be a dummed bit surprised if it come to that unless they stop - brustlin’ up at each other.” - </p> - <p> - “Hime wants to look out for his buttons,” observed the man who had lighted - his pipe. “’Cordin’ to stories that have passed ’round town - since King Bradish went away the shoulder hitters ain’t confined to one - branch of the Look fam’ly.” - </p> - <p> - Solomon Norton came out and got a huge basket of clean sawdust from the - tail of his waggon. - </p> - <p> - “Put on plenty this year, Sol,” called one of the men. “It’ll be needed to - sop up the blood.” - </p> - <p> - The soil of the town-house yard, soggy from the March rains, began to thaw - as the sun grew higher and warmer. In increasing numbers waggons gullied - and rutted it. Mud dripped from the wheels and was splattered on the backs - of the voters. Men arrived in pairs or in fours, in narrow buggies or in - double-seated waggons, whose bodies bumped upon the axles as the wheels - slumped into the highway honey-pots. The seiners from the Cove road, whose - horses were their dories, clubbed together and came in hay-racks. To the - front rail of one of these a joker had fastened a sprit-sail, and the lead - horse had a pennant floating from a little staff set into his bridle. - </p> - <p> - Before nine o’clock the yard was well filled with men, most of them - assembled in knots that constantly changed personnel as voters trudged - through the sticky ooze from one to the other, shouting jovial greetings - or mumbling certain confidences in undertone. The town clerk, the - selectmen and a constable or two had gone into the town house, trailing - mud upon Solomon Norton’s fresh sawdust; but the main body of the voters - remained outside. The assemblage wore a general air of expectancy. - </p> - <p> - But the citizens of Palermo were certainly not expecting one spectacle - that day. - </p> - <p> - When the Willard family carriage scraped its muddy wheels against the - platform in front of the town house Squire Phineas Look was the first to - lift the flap and step out. He gave his hand to Judge Collamore Willard, - whose thin leg trembled as he put out his foot to grope for the platform. - </p> - <p> - The space before the door was thronged with men, and the Squire, who held - the old town treasurer’s arm, waited for them to open a passage. - </p> - <p> - There was a certain grave dignity on the Squire’s face that morning that - the men of Palermo had not been accustomed to see there before. Their old, - free-and-easy greeting seemed out of place now. It was not because they - were astonished at beholding him in company with Judge Willard. Nor was it - the presence of the Judge that restrained them. Somehow, Phin Look was - different, and they instinctively realised it. His isolation during the - past few months while he had been engrossed in his work, the knowledge - that the outside world had begun to give him honour and money, accounted - for a part of the respect that Squire Phin suddenly detected in the eyes - of his townsmen, but there was something in his bearing more potent still—the - intangible aura of the man who had suddenly come to full knowledge of - himself and his abilities. - </p> - <p> - That intangible something had been in his face, in the poise of his body, - in the straightening of his shoulders and the lift of his chin ever since - he had walked out of the parlour of the Willard house. It is not - surprising that the assembled voters of Palermo did not understand it, - because Squire Phin did not wholly understand it himself. He passed among - them with quiet greetings that made those upon whom they fell grow warm - with pleasure and pride. Selfaggrandisement can bestow no such favours. - The people of Palermo, unconsciously almost, had suddenly elevated their - best citizen to the height his merit but not his modesty claimed. And - through that subtle attribute that attaches to such elevations they were - correspondingly proud of him. - </p> - <p> - The voters closed in behind the two and followed them into the town house, - mumbling surmises to account for this astonishing situation. - </p> - <p> - “Politics makes strange bedfellers, so they say,” observed Deacon Burgess, - squinting at the Squire and the feeble old man whom he was leading, “but - if them two there don’t have nightmares and git to kickin’ each other it - will be somethin’ to be talked about in words that ain’t laid down in the - dictionary.” - </p> - <p> - But the surge into the town house was promptly succeeded by a rush for - outdoors. The bellow of band music summoned them. - </p> - <p> - Fully appreciating what the dramatic stood for, Hiram Look had timed his - arrival carefully. He wanted all the voters to witness it. His eight - horses drew the band chariot, whose gilt and glass were resplendent, even - through the mud-streakings. The showman drove, perched upon the high seat, - his new silk hat flashing in the March sun. But the hat was dwarfed on - that occasion. - </p> - <p> - Simon Peak sat beside him, and for the first time since Palermo had known - him Simon Peak was really erect. It was his initial appearance as - drum-major of the “Look Cornet Brass Band.” His trousers were white, his - coat was crimson, with huge yellow shoulder knots, and an absolutely - gigantic bearskin shako towered from his head. When the big waggon swung - into the town-house yard the voters got a peep at the new uniforms of the - bandmen and, inspired by the gorgeous spectacle and by the lively music, - broke into a cheer. - </p> - <p> - Hiram’s grim features relaxed. He wheeled his horses skilfully and brought - the big cart to a standstill opposite the crowded platform, twisted the - reins about the brake bar, arose and removed his hat. - </p> - <p> - The ruling passion of the mob is the same in Palermo as it is in the - metropolis. - </p> - <p> - “Speech!” yelled the crowd enthusiastically above the blare of the - instruments. - </p> - <p> - “It ain’t no time, gents, for speeches now and here,” said Hiram Look in - the first silence. “I only want to present to you, the voters of the town - of Palermo, your new brass band, with the tallest drum-major in New - England, if not in the whole world. It’s a band that no one can be ashamed - of. It has taken enterprise and hard work to <i>get</i> it to goin’. It - needs a boost from the voters of this town to <i>keep</i> it goin’. A word - to the wise is sufficient. This ain’t no time for speeches, as I’ve just - said, but I want to ask you, one and all, to show me and this band here - to-day that you appreciate it when a man comes into the place and lets out - a few reefs and tries to get the grand old town of Palermo sailin’ on a - new tack.” - </p> - <p> - It was the younger men who cheered now, as they had cheered before. The - older voters, from natural gravity and other reasons of a personal nature, - were silent. Many of them went back into the town house grumbling about - “hitchin’ circus fol-de-rols on to a bus’ness town meetin’.” - </p> - <p> - This faction, which was a very considerable one, glared when the band - marched in behind its Gargantuan major and set the windows to rattling - with one of its liveliest airs. In the close, low-ceiled room the uproar - of the instruments and the clamour of the drums made hideous din of the - music. - </p> - <p> - “I’ll be deefer’n a haddock if this keeps up,” growled Uncle Lysimachus - Buck to Marriner Amazeen. “There don’t seem to be no law and order to - nothin’ in this town nowadays. It strikes me it’s about time for P’lermo - to set down on Hime Look, and set down so hard that he won’t get the - creases out of him for awhile.” - </p> - <p> - The town clerk, a thin, hump-shouldered little man, stood beside a rickety - table on the platform, his huge cane poised ready to pound for order, and - waiting with manifest impatience for the band to finish. He began to whack - the table the moment the echoes of the music died away, and while the - voters were shuffling to their places on the settees read the warrant for - the meeting in a shrill voice. - </p> - <p> - Hiram Look had planned to win the first move that day and elect a - moderator from his own faction. The keynote of his canvass had been “Give - some one else a show!” His whole campaign had been an attempt to stir - factional feeling in town. - </p> - <p> - “It’s a mighty dead-and-alive place that let’s one clique run it year - after year and lead you all by the nose,” he had stormily argued. “You - might’s well have an emp’ror for life and be done with it.” - </p> - <p> - He had promptly won the element that is always jealous of those in - authority, almost as promptly enrolled the unstable element that is ready - to follow new gods when a band leads the procession, and after a little - effort had succeeded in convincing many voters, who had never stopped to - think of the matter before, that they were being cheated of their rights - of representation in town affairs. He had talked to them until they were - bitter with his own bitterness. But he did not let drop one word of the - sensation that he planned to precipitate. - </p> - <p> - The moment the clerk stopped reading “Wolf” Doughty was on his feet with a - fiery harangue that wound up in denunciation of the men who had bossed the - town so long. He declared that it was time for a new deal, and nominated - Deacon Burgess as moderator. The band attempted to play when he finished, - but the little clerk rapped it into silence, though he split his table in - doing so. The name of Deacon Burgess was uproariously seconded by Hiram’s - claque. - </p> - <p> - But Squire Phin had been prepared for just such an outbreak. He arose and - said that he would assume that Mr. Doughty’s remarks had reference to him, - who had served the town as moderator for so many years. He reminded the - voters that he had acted in the capacity because he had annually been - requested to preside by the unanimous voice of the voters. He had always - felt that others should share in this honour, he said, and this year he - should do what he had before intended to do—refuse the use of his - name. - </p> - <p> - There was so much of gentle rebuke in his tone, and in his air such quiet - dignity, that Doughty’s flaming speech became a piece of insolence that - the voters were manifestly anxious to repudiate. - </p> - <p> - At this psychological moment, foreseen by the Squire’s sagacity, one of - his lieutenants nominated the teacher of the high school at the upper - village, and the natural, sudden impulse of the meeting did the rest. - </p> - <p> - Deacon Burgess was snowed under. - </p> - <p> - Hiram Look, in the midst of his adherents, fully understood all the guile - under this apparently innocent manoeuvre, and twisted his trailing - moustache and glared at his brother with malice. - </p> - <p> - In a similar manner the rest of Hiram’s slate was broken. He had trained - his speakers to go against the opposition with all the force of their - lungs and their invective. But the opposition didn’t appear to be there. - It was like fighting the summer breeze with a park of artillery. The old - office-holders were no longer candidates. New ones appeared, introduced in - calm, earnest speeches—men against whom no word could be said. Under - such circumstances the assaults by Hiram’s cabal began to sound like - bombastic nonsense, and there was too much Yankee hard-headedness in that - town meeting to listen patiently. - </p> - <p> - Violent sentiments were greeted with laughter, and the men who persisted - in attacking the old régime were hooted down. - </p> - <p> - While the tellers were counting votes for the third selectman Hiram - signalled his band to play up. But the moderator ordered silence and sent - two constables to enforce his commands. - </p> - <p> - Hiram, endeavouring to shout remonstrance, was threatened with expulsion - from the hall. He had lost his grip on the situation. - </p> - <p> - His supporters had not deserted him, by any means, but they were too - confused to act in concert. The new men were better men than their own - candidates. They were nominated with a certain spontaneity that disarmed - the opposition. Each time the polling was in progress Hiram stood on a - settee waving handfuls of ballots and shouting the name of his candidate. - But many voters who accepted slips from him secretly dropped them upon the - sawdust floor at a word whispered to them as they filed along toward the - ballot box. - </p> - <p> - It was not until the meeting reached the election of a town treasurer that - the opposition saw its real opportunity. - </p> - <p> - The Squire, who had made no nominating speech up to this time, secured - recognition from the moderator before Hiram’s lieutenant could struggle to - his feet, even though the showman had reached over two settees and thrust - a broad hand against his back. - </p> - <p> - The lawyer walked to the little space before the platform and stood there, - his hands behind him, his expression amiable, yet with something of that - new determination in it that Palermo had just begun to note. - </p> - <p> - “The hankering for new brooms is a natural and proper one, - fellow-townsmen,” he said, “and I am glad that Palermo has shown so much - good sense here to-day. We have chosen an admirable board of town officers - up to this time, and I am sure that those still to be elected will be just - as good and true men. You are now to choose a treasurer for the town. We - have plenty of good material for other officers, but I want to say to you - earnestly I am convinced that we have only one man in Palermo who by - training and ability is suited to be our treasurer. - </p> - <p> - “It is an office that requires tact and good judgment, even though the - sums that pass through the hands of our treasurer are not large. These - qualifications are possessed in abundant measure by the present incumbent - of the office. But there is a personal reason why we should reelect Judge - Willard, and in a little town like ours—a neighbourhood, you may - call it, almost—a personal reason of this nature should sway us. - Judge Willard’s father and grandfather before him were town treasurers. - The office has become associated with the family name. It will be recalled - by you that no Willard has ever charged the town one cent for his - services. It is one of those peculiar cases where the rule of rotation in - office is overweighed by sentiment. I’ll confess to having sentiment - myself about this matter. I’d as soon be a party to cutting down our big - elm where Lafayette sat in the shade while his dinner was being cooked at - the old tavern.” - </p> - <p> - His face grew grave. - </p> - <p> - “I hardly think I need to state to the voters here to-day that the very - fact of my standing forth to make this plea for Judge Willard indicates - how necessary I think it is to put aside my personal feelings for the sake - of the town.” - </p> - <p> - The expression on the faces of the listeners showed that they fully - understood his allusion. It required no very close observation to see that - Phineas Look, appealing for his old enemy, had won the majority of his - townsmen to his side. - </p> - <p> - “I had heard that certain persons were planning to make a cowardly attack - on him here to-day, and I did not propose to have my attitude toward him - misunderstood, townsmen.” - </p> - <p> - The Squire shouted this. - </p> - <p> - “In Judge Willard’s presence I apologise for my frankness, but I say to - you that he is an old man, to whom certain small things—small - honours, if you care to say it—have much significance. I don’t - believe the voters of this town will venture to wound an old man by any - lack of generosity here to-day. I don’t believe they will listen to - attacks made on him to satisfy selfish spite. I ask you, therefore, to - treat this aged citizen with the consideration that is due to him. I ask - you to nominate him by acclamation.” - </p> - <p> - He put both of his hands out to them, palms up, and smiled upon them with - appeal in his eyes. - </p> - <p> - “That’s the way I feel about the town treasurer-ship, neighbours, and if - the most of you don’t feel that way, too, I shall be disappointed. Will - you not make it by acclamation?” - </p> - <p> - So accustomed were his townsmen to see the Squire at the head of their - meetings that there was a chorus of “Ayes!” A half dozen men popped up and - seconded his proposal. Squire Phin did not attempt to speak above this - clamour, but smilingly motioned toward the moderator and took his seat - beside Judge Willard. - </p> - <p> - The aged treasurer, during the time that the lawyer was speaking, sat - twisting his thin hands under his shawl. His head swayed from side to side - with a tremulousness that no one had observed in him before. His eyes were - fixed appealingly on the face of his sponsor. - </p> - <p> - “You set down!” roared a voice. The voters turned and beheld Hiram shaking - his fist at the man who was striving to present the name of the opposition - candidate. “Set down, I tell ye! I’ll ’tend to the rest of this - thing myself and do it right.” - </p> - <p> - “Question! Question!” shouted many voices. - </p> - <p> - But the showman was not to be choked off. He leaped upon a settee and - roared, vibrating his fists above his head, until by dint of bellowing he - had driven the others into silence. - </p> - <p> - “I’m a voter in this town, and I don’t propose to have bus’ness rammed - through without discussion. I know how some of you feel toward me. You - think that ev’rything I try to do I’m doin’ just to make trouble. You give - me the big end to h’ist ev’ry time. But I’m good for it!” - </p> - <p> - He brandished his long arms above their heads. - </p> - <p> - Again the voices broke out into cries of “Question! We want to vote!” - </p> - <p> - “Vote! Vote!” he screamed, unable to control his passion. He had intended - to lead up to his sensation more skilfully. In his rage he now fired it at - them like a bombshell. - </p> - <p> - “Vote for what? For a thief to be your town treasurer? For a man that has - stolen forty thousand dollars from this town? That’s what you’re votin’ - for. I can prove what I say. Now do you want to vote?” - </p> - <p> - He leaned far over, propping himself on the shoulders of the man in front - of him, and gave them look for look. His sound eye blazed. - </p> - <p> - He thrust out his arm and shook his long finger at the cowering Judge. - </p> - <p> - “Ask him how many town notes are out with his name on ’em!” he - yelled. “Ask him—your honest old town treasurer, who has skun you as - he would skin a woodchuck, who has cheated, has stolen———” - </p> - <p> - But now fifty men were on their feet howling threats and epithets at him. - </p> - <p> - “What shall I do?” screamed the moderator, leaning from the platform and - appealing to the Squire. - </p> - <p> - “Tell the band to play! Pass the word. Tell the band to play,” the lawyer - replied. And the band, not understanding in that din of voices from whom - the order had emanated, struck into one of its most clamorous selections, - and kept on doggedly despite the hoarse objurgations of Hiram. He finally - stood up and wiped his dripping face and let them go on. But he swore - under his breath with the vigour of a captain whose own guns had been - trained on him. - </p> - <p> - While he stood there, high on the settee, waiting for the band to play - through to the end, Hiram singled out several men in the crowd with his - eye, and promptly on the heels of the last blare he shouted: - </p> - <p> - “Sumner Badger—you, there, Sum Badger! You, Ezra Mayo! You, Nelson - Clark! You are hidin’ town notes with Collamore Willard’s name on ’em. - You can’t stand up here in town meetin’ and say that you aren’t. This town - thinks it only owes two thousand. Ask those men, you voters! They’ve let - Collamore Willard have fifteen thousand between ’em. Ask ’em!” - </p> - <p> - He waited, and the assemblage turned amazed and inquiring gaze on the men. - </p> - <p> - Badger stood up first. - </p> - <p> - “I’m free to say, and I’ll swear it on a stack of Bibles, that there ain’t - a cent owin’ me from this town.” - </p> - <p> - “You’re an old liar,” yelled Hiram. - </p> - <p> - “I’ll bet you five thousand dollars, even money, and put it into the hands - of any one you say?” Badger shrieked excitedly. “And there’s a taste of - your own med’cine that you’ve been so willin’ to ladle out to the rest of - us. Put up or shet up!” - </p> - <p> - This sturdy retort caught Hiram napping, and his open mouth and the - confusion on his face showed it. - </p> - <p> - The other men whom he had called upon leaped up and made similar overtures - of wagers. - </p> - <p> - The crowd began to laugh boisterously. - </p> - <p> - For the first few moments the voters had wavered between shocked - astonishment and anger. But the town understood so well the showman’s - extravagances of speech and actions that on second thought this last - performance seemed only another of his prodigious bluffs. Now to behold - him badgered in the same fashion in which he had badgered Palermo, and - backing away from the bets, was too much for their risibilities. The more - they laughed the more utter became his confusion. The whole thing had - turned out so differently from what he expected. - </p> - <p> - “I’ll bet ye five thousand to two,” shrilled Badger, excited by his - success and by the applause. “And I’ll stump ye to bet! I’ll stump ye!” - </p> - <p> - The mirth broke out again, for Hiram pulled out his handkerchief and - scrubbed it over his reddening face. - </p> - <p> - “This has gone far enough, townsmen!” called the Squire. “It isn’t seemly - to conduct town affairs in this manner.” - </p> - <p> - He had mounted the platform, and his firm tones quieted them. - </p> - <p> - “It isn’t seemly, either, for an irresponsible person to lose his head and - make accusations that he cannot back up. It is a deplorable thing that has - just happened here, townsmen.” - </p> - <p> - They all became grave with his gravity. - </p> - <p> - “No personal feelings of my own shall check me from saying that a man who - stands up in a public place and perpetrates criminal libel deserves the - severest punishment that the law has for such a crime. But under the - circumstances I ask from you this one bit of forbearance: It is that you - will forget what this person has said here and allow him to go, on - condition that he will not repeat his offence, here or elsewhere. If he - does—” the Squire’s face grew hard and stern—“I will prosecute - him myself, brother though he be of mine.” - </p> - <p> - For a moment there was utter silence, and then, with callused palms and - thudding boots, the voters roared their applause. - </p> - <p> - Hiram strode off the settee and into the centre aisle, and was about to - speak, his face black with rage. - </p> - <p> - “Not another word, sir,” the Squire shouted. “Not one word, or I’ll - withdraw my protection.” - </p> - <p> - But Hiram whirled at the door on his way out, unable to repress the - furious indignation that surged to his lips. He began to understand the - manner in which he had been cheated out of his vengeance. His anger - shifted from the voters, who had so blindly followed, to the man who had - led them—and that man was his brother. - </p> - <p> - “I’ll bet ye ten thousand dollars to one that I know who lifted the lid - that let the old rat out of his trap,” he shouted. His eye flamed redly on - Phineas. “It took ready money to do it. It was your money, Phin Look! Some - of it was money that I earnt! Our old father turned in his grave this day. - I stand here before the whole of you and tell you, Phin Look, that you are - a——” - </p> - <p> - “Constables, put that man out of this meeting!” commanded the Squire in - stentorian tones, and three brawny men who had followed Hiram down the - aisle and appeared to be awaiting just such an order hustled the showman - out of doors with much alacrity. - </p> - <p> - Simon Peak marshalled the band behind him, and in a little while the big - waggon went rumbling out of the yard. - </p> - <p> - But the band did not play. - </p> - <p> - Later in the day, when this business was reached, the articles in the - warrant relating to the “Look Cornet Brass Band” and the investigation of - the accounts of the town treasurer, as well as the article requiring - bondsmen for the same, were killed by a hilarious viva voce vote. - </p> - <p> - On their homeward way, after a long pause, Squire Look said: - </p> - <p> - “Judge Willard, you have been able to see some of the visible results to - me for my share in helping you compound your felony. You are man enough to - understand what it means to go through a public scene like that with a - brother, who was right, even if he was misguided. I am ashamed to meet - him; I am almost ashamed to look my townsmen in the eye.” - </p> - <p> - “But you agreed that it would have been worse the other way,” quavered the - old man. - </p> - <p> - “There are people who talk of the right path,” broke out the lawyer - impatiently, “as though it were like this village road branching from the - four corners here; that all you need to do is to look at the guide-board - and go on. I may have got tangled up at that four corners where you and I - met the other day, Judge Willard, but I want to tell you that I see a - mighty straight road ahead of me now.” - </p> - <p> - He clutched the old man’s arm and spoke low so that the driver on the - other side of the leather flap might not hear. - </p> - <p> - “You have got to liquidate, Judge. You have got to put every cent of - property you have in the world into my hands in order that I may untangle - it. You may be town treasurer in name, but not one dollar of the funds - shall you handle. The widows and the orphans and the old folks in this - town must be paid to the last farthing. You are going out of business—-do - you understand? You will resign the town treasurership when I tell you to—and - that will be when your books can be safely turned over to some one else. - You need not worry about exposure, for the men who were paid and - surrendered their town notes to me have their tongues tied fast and solid - by methods that I understand how to work. Now for your own tongue! If you - breathe one word to your daughter that I supplied the money to square this - thing, or that you owe me a cent, I’ll drop you and your affairs as I’d - drop a hot plate on to a brick sidewalk. And you know what will happen - then!” A moment later the Squire checked the old man’s mingled promises - and thanks with an impatient word and sank back into a corner of the - carriage. His ponderings could not have been very satisfying, for he - scowled and growled. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXI—WHY HIRAM LOOK WENT OUT OF THE CIRCUS BUSINESS - </h2> - <h3> - FOR GOOD AND ALL - </h3> - <p class="indent10"> - Now study the ways of the world, my son; oh, study the ways of life! - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - It’s the hustling chap that gets the cash or the girl he wants for his - wife; - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - It’s the fellow that spots the place to grab, as Chance goes swinging by, - </p> - <p class="indent10"> - Who gets his dab in the juiciest place and the biggest plum in the pie. - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - —Philosophy of S. Peak. - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t was almost the - first of the warming days of April. Muddy little brooks ran beside the - highway, robins bounced along the turf, the waves in the Cove sparkled in - the mellow sunshine, and the silver poplars in the Look dooryard bristled - with catkins as long as one’s finger. One of them dropped lightly upon the - knee of the abstracted Hiram Look, sitting in his chair on the porch, and - he jumped and cuffed it, thinking it was a green worm. - </p> - <p> - “First spring I’ve seen them things for a good many years,” he growled, - squinting up into the branches. “For that matter, it’s the first spring - I’ve seen a good many things,” he added bitterly. He slouched down in his - chair, his hat-brim low over his eyes, smoked his long cigar and watched - the approach of Simon Peak, who was picking his way up the muddy road. - </p> - <p> - “There’s thirty-seven of ’em to-day, Hime,” said Simon, tossing a - packet of letters into the showman’s lap. “Some of ’em’s fat, and - there ought to be con-sid’able good readin’ for us.” He licked his lips - expectantly. - </p> - <p> - Hiram joggled down the contents of an envelope and nipped off the edge - with broad nails. He passed the contents over to Peak, who fixed his - spectacles on his nose and promptly began to read aloud, his general air - showing that this was a regular daily programme. - </p> - <h3> - **** - </h3> - <p> - “‘Look & Peak—Gents: Seeing your ad. respecting show you are - going to start out with in near future, I would like side-show privilege - for my wife, who is the celebrated Fat Emma, with beard two feet long. She—— - </p> - <p> - “Nothing to it!” growled Hiram, breaking in with disgust. “Tear it up.” - </p> - <p> - “But there’s some kind of funny stuff about her here,” appealed Simon, - running his eye down the page. “It makes good readin’.” - </p> - <p> - “Frame it, then, if you want to,” retorted the showman gruffly. “I don’t - want to listen to no such sculch.” He was nipping at the edge of another - envelope. - </p> - <p> - Simon took advantage of the pause. - </p> - <p> - “I see your brother steppin’ into Judge Willard’s office same as usual - this noon,” he said. - </p> - <p> - “He can step into Tophet three times a day and fry steak if he wants to,” - snapped Hiram ungraciously. - </p> - <p> - “Well, you asked me to keep tabs on him when I see him go in there, and - I’m doin’ it, ain’t I? I don’t see no need of yappin’ my head off when I’m - tellin’ you what you wanted me to tell you.” Simon was plainly indignant. - </p> - <p> - “You show altogether too much relish for stickin’ your nose into other - folks’ bus’ness,” said Hiram, still in bad temper. - </p> - <p> - “You’re gittin’ to be wusser’n a quill-pig to live with,” Simon flung - back. “I don’t git more’n two decent words out of you from one day’s end - to another. I ain’t no husk door-mat for you to wipe your feet on, even if - I am poor and you’ve got your old forty thousand in the bank.” - </p> - <p> - “You go ahead with your readin’,” barked Hiram, slapping open a letter. - “You want to get so that you can unpin that mouth o’ your’n without saying - forty thousand dollars ev’ry time, or I may stick my fist down your gullet - some day.” - </p> - <p> - The giant read on sullenly. - </p> - <p> - “‘Messers. Look & Peak————-’” - </p> - <p> - “‘Gentlemen Sirs!’” thundered Hiram. “Ain’t I told you more’n five hundred - times how to read that? We ain’t ‘<i>Messers</i>.’” - </p> - <p> - Peak surveyed the tyrant with baleful gaze and started to read again. - </p> - <p> - While they were absorbed in their quarrel a woman had come tip-toeing up - the street past the muddy spots, and now she stood in front of the porch—a - thin, wiry, alert woman. Her voice startled them. She tripped a few steps - nearer and curtsied with extravagant politeness. Both arose and doffed - their plug hats before they saw her face. She tossed her head to throw - back a draggly plume that rested against her rouged cheek and stared at - them. - </p> - <p> - “You don’t hold your ages as well as I do, boys,” she commented - flippantly. - </p> - <p> - “It’s the old army game, gents,” squalled the parrot from his cage - overhead, excited by this new arrival, gay in colours and ribbons. - </p> - <p> - “It’s <i>her!</i>” gasped Hiram. - </p> - <p> - “It’s Signory Rosy-elly!” choked the giant. - </p> - <p> - She came up and sat down beside them sociably in one of the porch chairs. - </p> - <p> - “Honest, boys, it was some time before I could place those names,” she - chattered. “‘Look & Peak’s Consolidated Aggregation,’ says I to - myself. ‘Look & Peak,’ I says. And, thinks I, them two old codgers - must have gone to Kingdom Come. ‘Look & Peak,’ says I,” she went on - cheerfully, oblivious of the grim stares. “It’s their sons, I says, and so - I come right along, for I need the job.” - </p> - <p> - “Didn’t that ad. say,” demanded Hiram, “that there wa’n’t goin’ to be no - personal interviews till later arranged for?” - </p> - <p> - She poked each in turn with her parasol, “Oh, I knew if it was their boys - I’d be taken on after I’d explained the romantic part, which I couldn’t do - in a letter. But I don’t have to tell <i>you</i>, boys.” She poked them - jocosely again. - </p> - <p> - “A little old, you say?” - </p> - <p> - They had not spoken. - </p> - <p> - “Why, not a bit of it for a jay-town circuit. Of course, it isn’t a - three-ringer job for me any more, or else I wouldn’t be down here talking - to Look & Peak. But I’m still good for it all—rings, banners, - hurdles, rump-cling gallop, and the blazing hoop for the wind-up. You know - what I can do, boys. Remember old times. Take me on for old times’ sake.” - She gave each one the leer of the faded coquette. - </p> - <p> - Hiram was the first to recover, for the edge of his regret had been dulled - by the long course of treatment he had received from Simon. This worn-out - creature completed the job. - </p> - <p> - “Ain’t you ashamed to face us two?” he rasped. “You that run away from <i>me</i> - and ruined <i>him?</i>” - </p> - <p> - “My sakes!” she cried. “You ain’t so unprofessional as to remember all - that silliness against me, are you? I was only a girl then, and you - couldn’t expect me to love you—either of you. I’m a poor widow now,” - she sighed, “and I need work. You don’t mean to say that you’ve been - layin’ up grudges against me all these years—the two of you? What - would your wives have said?” - </p> - <p> - “We never got married,” returned Look and Peak in mournful duet. - </p> - <p> - “You’re lucky!” she snapped. “I married a cheap, worthless renegade, and - he stole my money and ran away. He fell off a trapeze and broke his neck, - and I was glad of it.” - </p> - <p> - “So’m I,” grunted Hiram, casting a soulful glance at Simon. “No, I ain’t, - either,” he corrected himself hastily. “I’m sorry he didn’t live to - torment you. No,” he roared, “I ain’t sorry for anything, except it was - poor Sime Peak’s money the two of you got away with.” - </p> - <p> - Peak sighed. - </p> - <p> - “But I want to say to you, Signory Rosy-elly,” went on Hiram, tipping his - hat to one side and hooking his thumb into the armhole of his vest, “it - wa’n’t <i>my</i> money you got, and it never will be my money you’ll get. - You just made the mistake of your life when you run away from me, and you - can chew that cud for the rest of your life.” - </p> - <p> - “He’s got forty thousand dollars in the bank,” hoarsely whispered Simon - behind his hand, willing to add his mite to her discomfiture. - </p> - <p> - “Correct!” agreed Hiram. It was really a moment worth waiting for through - the years, he reflected. - </p> - <p> - “Twenty can play as well as one,” croaked the parrot, his beady eye - pressed between the bars of his cage. - </p> - <p> - The signora glanced up at this new speaker, eyed Absalom with a sage look - that he seemed to return, and, after a moment of thought, said: - </p> - <p> - “Thanks for the suggestion, old chap! Three can play as well as two. Now, - Look, you know that I’m always outspoken and straight to the point. No - tinderhanded bluff for me. I’m going to sue you for ten thousand!” - </p> - <p> - “Crack ’em down, gents!” remarked Absalom with grim patness. - </p> - <p> - Hiram could not resist casting a malevolent stare at the unconscious - humourist in the cage. - </p> - <p> - For one startled moment he stared at the woman in fear, and then, - recovering composure, tilted his cigar in the corner of his mouth with - cocky assurance. - </p> - <p> - “I want to know,” he blurted sarcastically. “Breach of promise, I <i>per</i>-sume?” - </p> - <p> - “Good aim! You’ve rung the bell!” replied the lady coolly. - </p> - <p> - The impudence of the bare suggestion fetched a gasp from both men. - </p> - <p> - Hiram was striving to be haughtily indifferent and disdainful. But this - thrust was too much for his composure. He felt one of those old-time fits - of rage come bristling up the back of his head, the fury of old, when he - had tried to wither that same giddy creature in his spasms of jealousy. - </p> - <p> - But she broke in on him with the same icy assurance that used to put him - out of countenance. - </p> - <p> - “I know all that, Look. But how are you going to prove that I’ve been - married? Where are you going to hunt for witnesses? Professional people - are like wild geese—roosting on air and moulting their names like - feathers. You two are going to seem like a couple of old frauds standing - up in court against me! You haven’t got the first elements of acting to - you! Observe how I take my cue! Jury a-listening! I’ve been hunting the - world over for you. You hid here. Here I find you—I, a poor, - deserted woman, whose life has been wrecked by your faithlessness. Me with - a crape veil, a sniff in my nose, crushed-creature face make-up and a - smart lawyer, such as I have in mind this very minute. And the jury - knowing that you’ve got the money! Why, Look, you can save thousands by - handing me your bankbook!” - </p> - <p> - In his fury Hiram grabbed her chair and tipped it forward violently in - order to dump her off his sacred porch. She flew out into space with a - flutter of skirts, landed as lightly as a cat, and pirouetted on one toe, - crooking her arms in the professional pose that invites applause. - </p> - <p> - “This is the first time Signora Rosyelli, champion bareback rider, ever - tried to ride a mule,” she chirped, “but you see she can do it and make - her graceful dismount to the music of the band. I’ll be at the tavern down - here two days, ready to listen to any kind of talk that combines pleasure - and profit. After that you take your own chances.” - </p> - <p> - She tossed to each of them a kiss from her finger-tips and went switching - jauntily down the road. - </p> - <p> - “That beats Tophet and repeat!” remarked Simon after a time. He had - watched her nearly out of sight. - </p> - <p> - Hiram held his peace. - </p> - <p> - “What are you goin’ to do?” his friend inquired falteringly at last. - </p> - <p> - “Fight her!” roared Hiram, leaping to his feet and striding up and down - the porch. “Fight her clear’n to the high, consolidated Supreme Court - aggregation of the United States, or whatever they call it!” - </p> - <p> - “Nobody has ever beat her out yit, except Delly-bunko, and we ain’t in his - class,” sighed Simon, with much despondency. - </p> - <p> - “You don’t think, do you, that I’m goin’ to set down and lap my thumb and - finger and peel her off ten thousand dollars?’” - </p> - <p> - “Well, it’s lucky that you’ve got a brother that’s the smartest lawyer in - the county,” said Peak, with an attempt at consolation. “He has showed - that much out pretty plain, even to me. I never see him manage anywhere, - except in town meetin’, but I——” - </p> - <p> - Hiram had been sunk in reverie, but this unfortunate remark brought him - out of it. - </p> - <p> - “Hain’t I told you never to mention my brother to me except when I ask you - to?” he demanded fiercely. “I don’t want any man that I ain’t spoke to for - four weeks slung into my face. Hain’t I goin’ to take to the ro’d again to - get rid of him? If he was the last lawyer on God’s footstool he couldn’t - take a case for me.” - </p> - <p> - He resumed his striding. - </p> - <p> - “Why don’t you and she git married, and we’ll all live here happy ever - after?” suggested Peak, wistfully, following a period of pondering. “If it - was in a book it would end off like that—sure pop!” - </p> - <p> - “Well, there ain’t no book to this, not by a dum-sight!” replied Hiram - tartly. - </p> - <p> - “But it would settle one thing, and you ain’t hitched up in any other - direction,” persisted Simon stubbornly, yet warily. Hiram’s renewed visits - up country since he had so definitely and precipitately retired from town - affairs in Palermo had again been stirring the jealous fears of the - anxious old “grafter.” He feared the widow Abilene Snell with the fear of - the bird that sees the hunter approaching its nest. - </p> - <p> - “I thought I told you never to twit me on that point again,” snarled - Hiram, trying to be calm. - </p> - <p> - “I ain’t twittin’,” expostulated Simon. “If you hadn’t got so touchy - lately you would see that I ain’t twittin’. But if you ain’t no idee of - gittin’ married up country, why, you——” - </p> - <p> - “You—shet—up!” shouted Hiram, with a wag of his head for each - word. - </p> - <p> - Long silence followed. - </p> - <p> - “So you’re bound to go to court?” asked Peak, recovering courage when he - saw Hiram peering at him wistfully, as though seeking encouragement. - </p> - <p> - “Low court—high court—clear’n to the ridge-pole—-clear’n - to the cupoly, and then I’ll shin the weather-vane with the Star-Spangled - Banner of justice between my teeth.” He slapped his hand on his knee. - </p> - <p> - “I heard a breach of promise trial once, a long time ago,” related Simon, - half closing his eyes in reminiscence. “Of course this ain’t nothin’ to do - with you and your case, but I can’t help sayin’ that that trial was the - funniest thing I ever heard. I never laughed so hard in my life. It beat a - show, that trial did. ’Twas all of twenty years ago, and I’ll bet - the people down there laugh yet when they see that feller walk along the - street. Them letters he wrote was——Is there letters in your - case, Hiram?” - </p> - <p> - He turned an innocent gaze on the showman. - </p> - <p> - Hiram mopped his face. - </p> - <p> - “I—I b’lieve there was,” he faltered. “She flung out somethin’ about - havin’ ’em now. Mebbe she has. A cussed woman never loses anything - that you want her to.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, prob’ly your letters ain’t like his letters,” continued Simon, trying - to console. “You’ve got sense about such things. - </p> - <p> - “But I remember that them letters that that feller wrote was certainly the - squashiest—why, ev’ry one of ‘em seemed to woggle jest like a - tumbler of jelly—sweet and sloppy, as you might say. It bein’ so - long ago when you wrote to her, I don’t suppose you remember just what you - wrote, do you?” - </p> - <p> - His stare was still full of innocence. - </p> - <p> - Hiram was sitting looking down into a knot-hole, a hot flush crawling up - from under his collar. He took off his plug hat and scuffed his wrist - across his steaming forehead. - </p> - <p> - “But prob’ly yours was all good sense,” Simon went on. “Why, there was men - lugged right out of that court-room in hysterics, and had to be pounded on - the back by dep’ty sheriffs to bring ’em to. I remember one letter - called her ‘Ittikins, Pittikins, Popsy Sweet,’ and she was settin’ there - in the court-room with a face on her sourer’n a dill pickle. Thought I’d - die a-laughin’! Of course you didn’t git no such sculch as that into your - letters, and so the trial won’t be funny. But you bein’ so prominunt now - and havin’ forty thousand in the bank, and bein’ known to a good many - people ’round up country since Imogene’s scrape there took you out - amongst folks——” - </p> - <p> - Hiram couldn’t detect any hidden meaning in Simon’s guileless mien and - reference to “up country,” and though he stared hard, he did not - interrupt. “As I say, bein’ now, as you might call it, a solid citizen, it - will certainly tickle folks somethin’ tremendous if there is any such - mushiness in your trial.” - </p> - <p> - A student in physiognomy might have read that memory was playing havoc - with Hiram Look’s resolution. - </p> - <p> - “I was tryin’ to think,” went on Peak, knuckling his forehead, “what it - was that the signory was tellin’ me that time when she rode away with me. - She’s such a liar that there ain’t no tellin’ nothin’ by what she says, - but it seems to me she told me that you called her something like - ‘Sweety-tweety’ or ‘Tweeny-weeny girlikins’—somethin’ like that. She - lied, prob’ly, and of course you’d never put anything like that into a - letter. How them newspapers do like to string out things—funny kind - of things—when a man is prominunt and has got money in the bank! - Folks can’t help laughin’—they jest nat’rally can’t, Hime! There - you’ll be settin’ in that court-room lookin’ ugly as a gibcat, and her - lawyer’ll be readin’ them letters with that kind of sassy——” - </p> - <p> - Hiram got up, kicked his chair off the porch, and in rage that he couldn’t - control he shook his fist under Peak’s nose. - </p> - <p> - “Twit me another word—just one other word—and I’ll drive that - old nose of your’n clear’n up into the roof of your head!” - </p> - <p> - He stumped away around the corner of the house and disappeared in the - barn. - </p> - <p> - “If the Court ain’t mistook,” soliloquised Simon, settling himself into a - more comfortable position in his chair, “Hime Look has got at least three - elephants on his hands now. He’s got one out there in the barn with him - that eats hay, one down to the tavern that eats money, and one up country - that will eat him, if he don’t look out.” Then he spread his handkerchief - over his face and went to sleep. - </p> - <p> - Hiram waked him up an hour or so later. - </p> - <p> - “Sime,” he said humbly, “I’ve been out there set-tin’ down on the hay and - rememberin’ back about what I wrote to her—and it’s all of it pretty - clear in my mind, ’cause I never wrote love letters to any one - else. And I can’t face it. I can’t set in court and hear it. I couldn’t - ever face any one that knowed me here or elsewhere. - </p> - <p> - “I couldn’t start on the ro’d with a circus and have the nerve to stand in - front of the big tent after it and bark like I used to. There’d be - somebody there a-knowin’ to it, and they’d grin me out of bus’ness. I’d be - backed into the stall. No, I can’t do it. If I git to talkin’ with her - again there’ll be murder done. It can’t be known that I’m havin’ any truck - with her. I can’t ever see her again. You got to go down, Sime, and see - what she’ll compromise for.” - </p> - <p> - “It has got to be compromised, has it?” asked the other earnestly. A - little gleam in his eye showed that he had something on his mind—a - doubt that he wanted to satisfy at last. - </p> - <p> - “Now the only way for us to go into this thing, Hime,” he said, “is for - both of us to be square and open. Don’t you yap out at me that I’m nosin’ - into your bus’ness or tryin’ to twit. But if you want this whole thing - fixed up secret, so that—so that—” he gulped—“so that - your widder up country won’t get track of it, then it’s only right for you - to tell me whuther your intentions up that way is serious.” - </p> - <p> - For a little while Hiram scowled at his companion in perfectly fiendish - manner. - </p> - <p> - “You talk about bein’ persistent!” he growled. “Talk about a bull-dog - hangin’ to a tramp’s leg! For four months conversation between us ain’t - ever took a turn but what you’ve tried to get your little gimlet into me. - Now ’cause you’ve got me into a corner you’re out with an auger. - Well, I’ll tell you, dum blast ye! I’m courtin’ Mis’ Snell, and I’m goin’ - to have her if she’ll have me. There! Chaw on that gumdrop a while!” - </p> - <p> - The showman glared at Peak and the latter shifted his gaze. - </p> - <p> - “Much obliged,” he said. “There’s nothin’ like having straight facts to go - on.” - </p> - <p> - He clapped his hat hard onto his head with a hollow tunk. - </p> - <p> - “What’s the final instructions?” he inquired. - </p> - <p> - “Nothin’ but to settle it as cheap as you can and shet her blasted mouth,” - returned Hiram, setting his elbows on his knees and looking again into the - knot-hole. - </p> - <p> - If he had changed his steady gaze from the knothole two hours later, it - was not apparent to Simon Peak when he returned. - </p> - <p> - “I wrassled with her, Hime, just as tough and tight as though it was my - own money that I was handlin’. If I done it right or not I donno. I ain’t - ever been used to talkin’ about so much money before. But I’ve got her - beat down to,” he drew a long breath, “sixty-six hundred, and she swears - she won’t take a cent less. You know how set she gits on a thing!” - </p> - <p> - Hiram bored him suspiciously with his eye for a moment and snarled: - </p> - <p> - “It sounds to me as though she was goin’ to get five thousand and you was - pers’nally lookin’ after your little old sixteen hundred.” - </p> - <p> - A couple of tears squeezed out and down over the giant’s flabby cheeks. - </p> - <p> - “There ain’t a day passed since you got back from up country, Hime, but - what you’ve misjudged me some way, somehow. You misjudged me years ago. - You’re doin’ it this minit. And it’s all on account of some missabul woman - that I’m misjudged. I wish they was all in——” - </p> - <p> - His voice broke here and he turned away. - </p> - <p> - Sudden contrition, and as sudden fear that Peak, offended, might desert - him in his need, assailed Hiram. - </p> - <p> - “I ain’t responsible for what I’m sayin’ to-day, Sime,” he pleaded. “You - know what has happened to stir me up. I’ve been stirred up all my life, - somehow. You’ll have to overlook it in me. There ain’t nobody I ever got - along with better’n I have with you—when all is said. I’ll show you - later that I appreciate it, too. We’ll get along together all right after - this. All is, you must see me through and keep her mouth plugged.” - </p> - <p> - Then the two tall hats bent together in earnest conference. - </p> - <p> - That evening one of Hiram Look’s horses, hitched to Hiram’s best carriage, - pranced up to the door of Fyles’ tavern, and the thin woman hopped in - lightly, snuggled herself down beside Simon Peak, and away they went. - </p> - <p> - In Simon’s inside pocket was one of Hiram’s bankbooks showing deposits of - a generous amount in one of the savings banks at the county shire. Between - its leaves was tucked an order signed by Hiram Look, and directing that - money should be paid over to Simon Peak, who would be identified by one of - the showman’s friends in the city. There were blank spaces in the order - for the insertion of the amount of money to be drawn. - </p> - <p> - “I’m going to show you what I think of you, Sime,” Hiram had declared in a - burst of enthusiasm. “You said I misjudged you. Well, here’s showin’ you - that I ain’t. I’m goin’ to leave that order blank ’cause I believe - in you. I’ll bet you’re friend enough of mine to beat her down another - notch. I’ll bet you can do it. Fill in the amount and draw when it’s - settled. Stay till you get them letters, put her on a train and come back, - and I’ll show ye that Hime Look appreciates a friend in need.” - </p> - <p> - It was a piece of impulsiveness that worried the showman considerably - during the next day or two, as he sat watching for the head of the gray - horse to come bobbing around the alders. His hard life had taught him to - distrust men’s honesty and faith. He wondered as he sat there what had - influenced him to put so much trust in Peak on the spur of the moment. - </p> - <p> - “It’s on account of gittin’ softened up by women, that’s what it is,” he - grunted in soliloquy. “There I was with a tin can tied to my tail and - runnin’ around in a circle and afraid of the two of ’em. No, I - ain’t afraid of Abby Snell! But it’s wuth more than one five thousand - dollars to keep it away from her that I ever fell in love with a circus - woman and wrote such letters as——” - </p> - <p> - Again the red flush came up from under his collar. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, I have trusted Sime,” he would mumble aloud, after he had stared at - the corner of the alders until his eye ached. “I’ve trusted him, I say! - But when your old neighbours and your own brother skins you, then it’s - time to turn to strangers and get used white. It’s your own folks that do - you the wust—it allus has been so, it prob’ly allus will be so. But—-I - could go to the shire and ’tend to that bus’ness and crawl back on - my hands and knees before this. She was a-goin’ to telegraft for them - letters, cuss her!” - </p> - <p> - On the third day, when “Figger-Four” Avery bobbed back from the - post-office with the mail, there was a thick packet among the letters that - Hiram opened first with trembling fingers, for he had recognised Simon - Peak’s handwriting. - </p> - <p> - It was the letter wrapped around the bankbook that Hiram tackled first. He - skimmed it with his one eye bulging like a rabbit’s. It was in a way an - apologetic letter, and yet it was flavoured with a note of complaint. - Simon Peak went on to state that he had thought it all over prayerfully. - Each time that a woman had come into their affairs he had been misjudged. - Now that his suspicions as to the up-country widow had been confirmed, he - could plainly see that he would sooner or later be misjudged again and, - being old, he could not endure any more griefs of the sort, seeing that - Hiram was his best and his only friend. He was too tender-hearted to stand - it—and, besides, he had heard that the widow was neater than wax and - smarter than a hornet, and under her administration spittoons and general - freedom would have to be abandoned. Moreover, he believed that the - conscience of Signora Rosyelli had troubled her ever since the episode of - the sixteen hundred dollars. Furthermore, letting her have all that money - to go away with and do with as she liked wouldn’t be the retribution that - she deserved. It was too much money for a woman to handle—— - </p> - <p> - Hiram yanked open the bankbook and glared at the balance. There had been a - withdrawal of ten thousand dollars. - </p> - <p> - In the more crucial moments of his life Hiram Look had frequently - refrained from anathema. Some situations were made too matter-of-fact by - cursing. Now he stood up, shoved his arms above his head, gulped a half a - dozen times, blew out his breath with a “Poof!” and sat down again. - </p> - <p> - After wiping his forehead with the flat of his hand he went on with the - letter. - </p> - <p> - Simon apologised for having overstepped the first estimates, but explained - that he had acted thus for reasons that must appeal to Hiram. The sum was - sufficient to make the signora want to stick to him, and that would keep - her away from Hiram. He had destroyed the letters and buttoned the money - into his inside pocket, and told her if she wanted to enjoy any of it she - must marry him. He said that as her husband he should control affairs - absolutely. The writer pointed out that this was real retribution to such - a woman, and he assured Hiram that he would always strive to make her - realise her position daily and hourly. Under such circumstances the small - extra amount that he had taken was moderate salary indeed for the services - he was rendering an old friend, and he trusted that Hiram would hereafter - enjoy life, knowing that a woman who had betrayed him was getting punished - for her infidelity. - </p> - <p> - The postscript stated that he had kept the team as a wedding present, and - they were going to do the gift-sale graft at fairs from the carriage—having - now the necessary capital. With deep regard for him and all inquiring - friends, they were, etc. - </p> - <p> - Hiram’s eye at last found the knot-hole in the platform, and he sat with - his elbows on his knees and regarded it for a long time. At first his face - was ridged and knotted with fury that his moving lips could not express. - Then there came grief in the puckers around his mouth—the grief of a - man who felt that the whole world was against him. - </p> - <p> - He, sitting there—he who had not dared to meet the grinning voters - of Palermo since that town meeting, the man who now held this riddled - bankbook and that unspeakable letter crumpled in his grasp was the same - man who had boasted that no one had ever “done” him! - </p> - <p> - He pulled off his tall hat in order to wipe his damp forehead. - </p> - <p> - He regarded its fuzzy nap with growing malevolence. Somehow, it seemed to - suggest the braggart, the showman, grafting women, Simon Peaks and the - atmosphere of tricksters. He set it upon the platform, stamped it into - shapelessness, and then kicked it with all his might. It landed in the top - of the lilac bush. - </p> - <p> - “Crack ’em down, gents!” squalled the parrot excitedly. He had been - watching his master with solicitude for many hours, and this sudden - activity reassured him. - </p> - <p> - Hiram glanced up at Absalom with a vindictiveness that should have warned - the bird, and then sat down in his chair. He turned over Simon’s letter, - flattened it on his bankbook, and began to write on the surface with a - stubby lead pencil that he had licked carefully: - </p> - <p> - “For Sale—One band waggon, one swan chariot, three lion cages, one - round-top——” - </p> - <p> - He was interrupted. - </p> - <p> - Squire Phin came up the little path from the road and took a seat on the - porch. - </p> - <p> - Hiram bent his brows in a scowl and looked at him, pencil poised above the - paper. - </p> - <p> - “I’ll make my business brief, brother,” said the lawyer, with a wistful - humility that pricked Hiram a bit, despite his rancour. “I realise how you - feel toward me, and I have not come upon your porch without good reason. - You may not have noticed that I have been away for a day or two, for you - haven’t been very much interested in my movements for some time. But I - have been absent. I’ve been at the shire on some law business. - </p> - <p> - “One of my friends who is a trustee in the Union Savings Bank mentioned to - me that one Simon Peak, accompanied by a strange woman, had drawn ten - thousand dollars on your order, after having been identified by one of the - traders near by. I was inter-: ested enough to want to see that order, and——” - </p> - <p> - “Say, ain’t I got any bus’ness of any kind that I can ’tend to - myself without some one pokin’ in their nose?” demanded Hiram with fury. - </p> - <p> - “I plead guilty to being a meddler, Hiram,” returned the Squire calmly. - “But I’ve taken the chances. I figured you could not dislike me any more - for doing this than you did before. And whatever else we are, you are my - brother, and Simon Peak is a man of whom I have always been distrustful. I - saw that the amount in the order had been filled in by some one else than - yourself. I didn’t know then what deal you could have with Peak. I don’t - know now, for I didn’t believe a word of the yarn he told me—-but - the amount of the matter is, Hiram, I took measures to have Peak and his - companion followed and apprehended. I interviewed them privately; I made - them disgorge, and here is your money—all except a couple of hundred - dollars. I gave them that much and the team so that they could get out of - the State and not annoy you any more. You’ll not see them again. I told - them that I’d put the two of them into State prison as blackmailers if - they showed up here.” - </p> - <p> - He laid a thick wallet upon his brother’s lap. - </p> - <p> - “If I have meddled in your affairs, brother, forgive me. But I couldn’t - stand by and see two thieves run away with what you have worked so hard to - earn.” - </p> - <p> - Hiram fumbled at the package a moment and then banged it down on the - platform, his face working with emotion whose nature was not easily to be - determined. - </p> - <p> - “Just one moment, Hiram, before you reproach me,” said the Squire hastily. - “Wait! Not a word’ from you now! I’m going to take advantage of this - opportunity and be honest with you. You were right that day in town - meeting, brother. If in everything in this world we must hew to the line - of justice, you were right that day. But I tell you, Hiram, you and I both - have seen that it isn’t always safe to hew to the line. I stood there - fighting for the financial peace and confidence of our little town, but - most of all for the woman I love, and when you got in the way I struck - you. That’s the truth of it, brother. And I’m afraid I’d do it again, - Hiram, for you can’t expect the perfect man to come out of the Look - family. The only thing I can promise you, brother, is to be honest with - you, and I am that—square with you through thick and thin, and I - will always be that. But you have got to keep your hands off my treasures—-and - you know what they are!” - </p> - <p> - He held out his open palm and smiled. - </p> - <p> - “Can’t you take my hand on that, brother Hiram?” - </p> - <p> - “I’ve got just a little favour to ask of you, Phin,” said Hiram, his hands - still at his side. “I want you to leave me here on this porch ten minutes - so that I can get fit to grip your hand. I can do a good deal of helpful - thinkin’ in ten minutes, Phin. And when I come ’round the corner of - that house, boy, it will be the differentest man you ever see. And I want - you to put out your hand and shake just as if I was home for the first - time after all those years—and I guess that’s the fact of the case, - brother.” - </p> - <p> - When the Squire, with head bowed and with a smile on his lips, reached the - corner of the house Hiram hailed him. There was such a queer note in his - brother’s voice that the lawyer whirled in some astonishment. - </p> - <p> - Hiram stood, the points of his long moustache tightly gripped in one hand - under his chin, as though he were trying to pull down the corners of his - lips that were spreading into a broader and rather foolish smile. - </p> - <p> - “I just wanted to warn you, Phin,” he chuckled, “that I’ve got a little - something in the way of—of—-well, as you said, ‘treasures’ to - talk about.” - </p> - <p> - “Treasures!” repeated the lawyer, wonderingly. - </p> - <p> - “Well, that’s what she is!” blurted Hiram. “And you don’t ever have to - apologise for what you did to me. I know how it is. I’ve got a critter to - walk over in the same way.” And with this enigmatic statement he waved a - hand at his brother and went back to his chair. - </p> - <p> - He began to frown again as he wrote. - </p> - <p> - “It’s goin’ to be a clean sale,” he muttered. “I don’t never in all my - life want to see a circus, hear of a circus, talk with a circus man——” - </p> - <p> - The parrot hooked his beak around a wire and rattled away jovially: - </p> - <p> - “Crack ’em down, gents!” he shrieked. - </p> - <p> - Hiram shot an angry glance and an oath at the cage. - </p> - <p> - “No, sir, never! They may molasses ye over at first, but it’s only to make - ye easier to swaller. Own folks don’t do that. You know just where to find - ’em, there’s that much about ’em. It’s goin’ to be a clean - sale. Think of it—me a man that has been through it all from A to Z - being held up by——” - </p> - <p> - “Twenty can play it as well as one!” remarked the parrot. - </p> - <p> - It was a hideous scowl that Hiram flashed up. - </p> - <p> - “Not only trimmin’ me, but makin’ me run the risk of goin’ to court and - havin’ it trailed out from Clew to Erie!” - </p> - <p> - “It’s the old army game, gents!” the parrot squalled. His tone was - nerve-racking. - </p> - <p> - Hiram rose, yanked the bottom out of the cage, caught the squawking bird - after considerable damage to a forefinger, wrung his neck, walked down to - the road, and flung him far over the opposite stone wall. When he came - back he caught the battered hat from the top of the lilac bush and sent it - after the deceased Absalom. - </p> - <p> - Then, sucking his bleeding finger at intervals, he went on writing his - advertisement. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXII—HOW SYLVENA WILLARD “TRIED IT ON THE DOG,” - </h2> - <h3> - WITH HAPPY RESULTS - </h3> - <p class="indent10"> - Dan’l and Dunk and the yaller dog - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Were owners and crew of the Pollywog, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - A hand-line smack that cuffed the seas, ’tween ’Tinicus - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Head and Point Quahaug. - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - Dunk owned half and Dan owned half, and the yaller - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - dog was also “joint”; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - They fished and ate - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And swapped their bait, - </p> - <p class="indent20"> - And allus agreed on every point. - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - —“Ballads of the Banks.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t did not surprise - the people of Palermo when the word passed that Judge Collamore Willard - had decided to retire from business. - </p> - <p> - His callers had noticed his failing strength through the winter months, - his unsteady gait, the tremulous wavering of his hands when he scrabbled - among the papers on his table. They ascribed all this to the infirmities - of age. Gossip that he had lost money, or that there was some basis for - the sensational charges flung at him by Hiram Look, fell upon barren soil - of belief in Palermo. Local confidence in the Willard fortunes and Willard - integrity was too strong to be weakened thus. - </p> - <p> - Old men, spinsters and widows came straggling in, after persistent - drumming at them by the Squire, to receive the sums due them. The process - of settlements covered many days, and the lawyer had need of all his - patience. - </p> - <p> - For old folks, even when the money was in their hands, stood by the - Judge’s table and begged him to take it back. - </p> - <p> - “Banks is failin’ and thieves is stealin’,” was their lament. “There ain’t - nobody ever done so well by us as you, Judge. It won’t bother you none to - take care of just this little. We won’t say nothin’ about your havin’ it.” - </p> - <p> - At times like these the Judge turned a wistful gaze on the lawyer, and - with something of appeal in his eyes. But he met; always the shake of the - head and the tightening of the lips. - </p> - <p> - “You can’t afford to take a single chance, Judge,” the Squire had told him - at the beginning of the business. “You must not owe one man a dollar. Your - books and your papers will be your own, then. And they must be burned. - Evidence of this sort must not haunt your last days or your family after - you are gone. Forgive me for having made the conditions that I have, but - it is the only way out for all of us.” - </p> - <p> - Those in town who were at first surprised that Squire Look had been - accepted as the Judge’s man of business found ready explanation in the - public quarrel of the Look brothers, and the fact that the Squire was - better qualified than any one else in Palermo to manage the affairs of an - old man whose grip on them had slipped. - </p> - <p> - Outsiders saw only the relations of client and lawyer. - </p> - <p> - Even such an insider as the Squire himself had been seeing not much else - during the weeks that had elapsed since the town meeting. - </p> - <p> - For on the first day of the many on which he came to Judge Willard’s - office he had met Sylvena, and she had such a new, strange, even - disquieting light in her eyes that he had blurted something that gave her - final and complete proof that he understood his musty law books better - than he did a woman’s heart. - </p> - <p> - “Sylvie,” he said, “I have been ashamed of myself ever since. I had no - right to take advantage just because you asked a favour of me that a - friend ought to be ready and willing to grant. I’m an old brute, and I - know it. You asked me to help your father, and I reached out across your - heart and your needs and grabbed as a robber grabs at a pocketbook. I’m - ashamed of it. I ought to know that that isn’t the way to win a woman, but - I reckon I don’t know much of anything outside of my law. No, don’t try to - forgive me! I’ve got the old grip on myself again. You needn’t worry!” - </p> - <p> - And she, with her heart stirring ever since that day when for the first - time a true man’s earnest, eager, imperious love had claimed her—she - who had come to him again yearning for a confirmation even, sweeter, bit - her lips when he whirled and left her, gazed after him with eyes that - filled, and then—well, then she stamped her foot and muttered - something that it would have astonished the Squire to hear. - </p> - <p> - He did not see her on every visit. But sometimes she was on the porch, and - when the weather grew warmer she was often busy with her shrubs on the - lawn. - </p> - <p> - The constant reserve on his part appeared to be contriteness for having - once presumed in a trying moment. - </p> - <p> - Her reserve was something that developed into an air that closely - resembled irritability, and he couldn’t understand it in the least. It - made him draw a little more closely into his shell. He thought that - perhaps memory of his fault stirred hotly within her when she saw him—perhaps - as the memory of that kiss burned even now on his lips. - </p> - <p> - Therefore matters of the Squire’s heart were in fully as bad a way as - matters of the Judge’s pocket. - </p> - <p> - With the true status of her father’s position, financially and morally, - Sylvena was mercifully unacquainted, for when she had fearfully questioned - him he had as fearfully paltered and denied. - </p> - <p> - The old dog Eli was the only one who was really cheered by the visits of - Phineas Look to the Willard place. - </p> - <p> - At first he had sat on the door-step of the office, meditatively gazing - out across the Cove. - </p> - <p> - Then one day he remarked a very pretty lady who was surveying him from the - window of the house, and was apparently motioning to him. But as Eli had - never found that pretty ladies were at any time much interested in fuzzy - old dogs, he reckoned he must be mistaken about the beckoning. However, he - gently wagged his tail in order to be on the safe side of agreeability. - Then he looked away with some embarrassment. - </p> - <p> - “Well, if that isn’t like master, like dog, may I be blessed,” stated the - lady in the window to herself with much decision. - </p> - <p> - She came to the door, opened it a bit, and called through the crack with - impatient tone: - </p> - <p> - “Here, you old fool, come in here and get a bite to eat. I’d like to speak - out in just that same way to some one else,” she added. - </p> - <p> - Eli promptly detected something like hostility in the voice and stopped - wagging his tail. He hunched down his head and dropped his ears. - </p> - <p> - The lady surveyed him with disfavour. - </p> - <p> - “I suppose if I get down on my knees and put out both hands and smile and - say, ‘Doggie, doggie, dear, good doggie, come here!’ why, then doggie will - condescend to come. But I won’t do it!” - </p> - <p> - She closed the door with an emphatic slam that made Eli jump, and went - back to the window. - </p> - <p> - But something in the mien of the old dog, who sat wistfully eyeing the - closed door, touched her heart. - </p> - <p> - “I’m blaming him for something he don’t know—something he don’t - understand,” she murmured at last, pity in her eyes. She went to the door - and opened it wide. Then she stooped forward and wriggled her fingers - coaxingly as she said: - </p> - <p> - “You nice old fellow, come here.” - </p> - <p> - He hesitated. - </p> - <p> - She pursed her lips and invited him with crisp little noises that sounded - like kisses. She must have realised the suggestiveness of these sounds, - for she suddenly blushed furiously and began to call to the dog softly and - winningly. - </p> - <p> - He came, his shaggy ears cocked up with expectancy, his tail expressing - his most genial appreciation of the invitation. - </p> - <p> - That was Eli’s first visit to the Willard kitchen in company with the - pretty lady. - </p> - <p> - If he’d had a tongue that could speak, instead of merely loll in thankful - gusto after his repasts in that kitchen, he could have told Squire Phin of - a pretty lady with red cheeks and a touch of gray at her temples who often - snuggled her face close to his tousled ears and spoke in a tone sometimes - that amazed him mightily, and who one day rose in haste, drove some tears - from her eyes, and said with the determination of a woman who has searched - and found: - </p> - <p> - “You’d better come along, too, Eli, for it’s business that concerns that - master of yours!” - </p> - <p> - And she started from the kitchen straight for her father’s office, the old - dog waddling at her heels. - </p> - <p> - Five minutes before that Squire Phin had pushed his elbows into the papers - on the big table, leaned forward with clasped fingers, and said: - </p> - <p> - “We’ve got now, Judge, where we can see the way clear. I have turned into - money for you everything except this house and contents. The mortgage on - it has been paid.” - </p> - <p> - The Judge began a stammering inquiry, but the lawyer checked him. - </p> - <p> - “I’ve got to tell you the truth about it, Judge. I advanced the money - myself to do it. About three thousand dollars are due you from men who - will pay some time but can’t now without being hard put to it to raise the - money. I’ll take those accounts and advance the cash. We have paid every - cent you owe and squared with every depositor.” - </p> - <p> - The lawyer stared at the old man in silence for a time. - </p> - <p> - “I’ll be frank and say that in order to bring about this settlement I have - put in every cent of money I have saved, all that Hiram paid me, and have - used certain fees I have received lately from several large cases. But I - am the only creditor you have. I want you to sign these notes, running to - me, for that will be business. But I want to say to you, Judge, that I - shall not press for payment, nor shall I say one word to any living soul - that you owe me a cent or are not solvent. There is a residue banked and - subject to your order sufficient for you to continue your usual way of - living. Wait a moment until I have finished! I have asked you to lie to - Sylvena, to contradict some truths that I blurted to her in my folly. It - was a big thing to ask of a father, but you owe me for lying publicly on - your behalf. I fear that both of us are sad liars! If you by word or look - or action ever let your daughter know that you have lost your fortune I - will withdraw my promise to you and put you to the wall. And that threat - is the truth, so help me God!” - </p> - <p> - The old Judge licked his trembling lips and took the notes that the Squire - handed him for signature. - </p> - <p> - “You needn’t feel under any obligation to me, Judge Willard,” went on the - lawyer. “I’ll square myself somehow, sometime. We’ll consider it straight - business.” - </p> - <p> - “But I know it isn’t straight business,” replied the Judge brokenly. “I - know that you have done for me what no other man of my whole acquaintance - would have done. I may guess at part of your reason for it, Phineas. But - that reason doesn’t absolve me from the obligation I am under to you. I’m - too broken now to plan or promise. I am an old man—too old to start - anew. But I don’t believe that God will take me out of this world until I - have in some way shown you that I appreciate all you have done for me and - can prove to you that I am sorry for the past. I mean that with all the - sincerity of an old man that will be judged Above for his deeds on earth - sooner than you, Phineas!” - </p> - <p> - The eyes of both men were moist, and in a moment of impulsiveness the - Squire reached across the table and took the Judge’s hand. But when a - visitor’s touch rattled the outside latch of the door a flash of the old - Look family feeling caused him to suddenly twitch away. He felt, with a - certain shame, that he did not want any one to catch him shaking the hand - of Collamore Willard. - </p> - <p> - It was the Judge’s daughter. - </p> - <p> - She held the door open until Eli had entered, too, with the apologetic - demeanour of one who knew certain things and was therefore apprehensive. - </p> - <p> - “Father,” she said, her eyes brilliant, her cheeks flushed, but glorious - in all her aspect, with the poise of a woman who has fully resolved and - therefore dares, “will I be interrupting you and Phineas too much if I - take a moment of your time?” - </p> - <p> - “I—I think our business is about finished,” said the Judge, - falteringly. He put his hand over the notes that he had just signed. - </p> - <p> - “I have come here,” she went on, “because it is a matter that both of you - should listen to at the same time. It is simply this, father: Phineas Look - has spoken his love for me and has shown his love for me. As we all know - that he is a man whose word is sacred, I take it for granted that he is - still of the same mind. There have been troubles between our families in - which I have had no share, but which at your request I respected in some - measure. I have allowed you to make other promises for me without my - sanction, for you are my father and it has been the custom in the Willard - family to honour parents and gainsay them in little. - </p> - <p> - “I have now decided that it is cowardice instead of loyalty that has - swayed me—for if I were truly loyal to your wishes I would not be - loving with all my heart and soul the man you have forbidden me to love. - The Willards have not been cowards. I know I am disobeying you, father. - But my mind is made up. It will be no use for you to make it harder for us - both by cruel words. That portion of property that was to have been mine I - surrender willingly to Kleber. My husband does not want my fortune.” - </p> - <p> - The face of the old man contracted with a sudden grimace of shame and - pain. Squire Phin, who had been staring at her, his palms outspread on the - table to prop himself, pushed some papers over the notes spread before the - Judge and trembled in every muscle. - </p> - <p> - She flashed a sudden look that was half-indignation into his burning eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Have I not been unwomanly enough without your making me coax you and - wheedle you to me, as I have had to woo your old dog?” she demanded, - stamping her foot. And then seeing that he swayed dizzily at the table, - confounded by the situation, she came close, reached across over the - scattered papers and patted his broad hand. - </p> - <p> - “Now what have you got to say to me, Phineas?” she whispered. “I know you - can talk, for I have listened to you with my heart in my mouth.” - </p> - <p> - But even while the Judge was scrambling up from his chair with stammering - words on his lips, even as the Squire seized the white hand that fluttered - above his own, another visitor entered the office. - </p> - <p> - This visitor—and a very obstreperous visitor it was—threw his - hat upon the table, squared his elbows and glared at the three in turn. - </p> - <p> - It was Captain Kleber Willard of the <i>Lycurgus Webb</i>. His dark - seaman’s face was streaked with purple blotches, his eyes were bloodshot - and sullen, and it was apparent that passion and liquor had combined to - give Captain Willard an unamiable temper. His gaze first singled the - Squire with an especially furious squint of hatred, but his father spoke - to him and he whirled on the Judge. - </p> - <p> - “Why didn’t you do as you agreed?” he shouted. “Me to Buenos Ayres and - back, off earnin’ a dollar, where I couldn’t protect myself, and you - promisin’ to keep that deal covered! Why didn’t you do it, I say?” - </p> - <p> - The old man turned a pitiful glance on his daughter and attempted to quiet - the angry man with words spoken close to his ear, but the Captain twisted - away from him. - </p> - <p> - “It’s time the whole of this family knows what the others are about,” he - raged. “I ain’t doin’ anything that I’m ashamed of. The rest of ye see to - it that you ain’t, either. I tell ye I won’t keep still. Sylvene Willard - is old enough to know bus’ness, or she can leave the room. If some that I - can see here had any instincts of a gentleman they’d get out, too, when a - family is talkin’ its bus’ness. I tell you, father, you’ve got to explain - to me how you let me get dropped for ten thousand. You didn’t send Bradish - the margins as you agreed. You dropped him, too. It’s no use for you to - hush-a-bye me. I know you did it. - </p> - <p> - “The <i>Webb</i> wasn’t a half a day in New York when Bradish came down to - show me the documents. It was there in black and white. You backed out and - dumped us. You dumped Bradish. He hasn’t got the price of a meal. I tell - you I won’t shut up! If you had gone in on that last deal that Bradish - told you about we’d have cleaned up a fortune. We depended on you, the - both of us, to furnish the money. You didn’t do it. You sent King up there - and then backed out on him. There isn’t any other explanation for it—you - backed out on him. It only needed money and you didn’t send it.” - </p> - <p> - He stamped around the room, picked up his hat, threw it down again and - went on with his bitter complaints. - </p> - <p> - Squire Phin stood leaning against the edge of the table, very grave, and - kept his silence. But there were two deep wrinkles between his eyes, and - the lids narrowed slowly. On his own account the blatant, brutal bursting - in of this man at the greatest, the sweetest, holiest moment of his life - had shocked and angered him. The words that he wanted to speak to her were - choking in his throat. On their account the presence of the man, his - selfish stormings and threats and complaints, exasperated him in his pity - for the trembling old man, and the sister, who was at her brother’s side - as he tramped about the room, pleading with him to be silent and to - explain to her. - </p> - <p> - At last Captain Willard plumped himself down in the chair that his father - had vacated and thumped his hard fist on the table. - </p> - <p> - “The sum total is, father, you’ve got to settle with me,” he shouted. “You - promised to protect me and you didn’t. It’s up to you to make good.” - </p> - <p> - He had from time to time been casting angry glances at the lawyer. - </p> - <p> - “If you’ve got any bus’ness here, Mr. Lawyer Look,” he said insolently, “I - wish you’d ’tend to it and get out. My father and I don’t want - audiences when we talk over family matters, and we don’t usually have - audiences, either.” - </p> - <p> - Squire Phin understood the dumb appeal in the eyes of the Judge. This - unruly son had hold of one end of his secret and was tugging away - vigorously. The father realised that the son had the right to demand - certain explanations. But revelations made to this explosive person could - not be kept away from the daughter. And over the Judge’s head swung the - threat of the grim lawyer, sealed with its oath. - </p> - <p> - With instant pity for the old man’s agony of apprehension, the Squire - acted. He stepped into the affairs of the Willard family with the happy - consciousness that now he had a right to be there. - </p> - <p> - “Captain Kleber,” he said, “I have been retained by your father as his - legal adviser. I have been that for some time. You may discuss family - affairs with him at your leisure and in whatever privacy you wish. On - account of the state of Judge Willard’s health he has left all his - business affairs to me. The matter that you have mentioned is one of - business. You will please come to my office with me, <i>now</i>.” - </p> - <p> - He dwelt on the last word significantly. He took his hat from the table - and went and stood by the door. - </p> - <p> - When the lawyer had begun to speak the Captain hooked himself forward in - his chair, his fingers clutching air, his face working with rage. - </p> - <p> - “It was the only thing that King Bradish told me that I didn’t believe,” - he shouted. “One of the Look family hired as a lawyer by my father? I - swore it wasn’t so! If it is so, damme if I don’t make you all sick here - in this place. If it is so——” - </p> - <p> - “It certainly is so, Captain,” broke in the Squire, stepping back into the - room. “You will kindly refrain from making any more comments on the - matter. Come to my office with me.” - </p> - <p> - “Comments!” shouted the seaman. “Comments! I ain’t got language enough to - make comments! Old Dan’l Webster in his palmiest days couldn’t talk fast - enough to express it. I’ll bet a thousand to one I know what the trouble - is with you, father. I’ll bet it’s just as King said it was. That skin - lawyer has got next to you and robbed you—he and his brother, the - two of ’em! There’s a good reason for your not havin’ money to - protect your own son if the Look family has got their claws in here. Do - you hear me, Sylvene? A thousand to one the dogs have ruined this family! - Why didn’t you send the old man to the lunatic asylum before you let him - ram us underground this way?” - </p> - <p> - In his fury he had been clutching up the papers on the table and throwing - them about. Now he suddenly bent forward with goggling eyes, his hands on - the arms of the chair, and stared long at some slips of paper that he had - uncovered. - </p> - <p> - He picked them up one after the other, his hands trembling so violently - that the sheets crackled. - </p> - <p> - “Four notes runnin’ to Phineas Look and signed by Collamore Willard!” he - yelled. “Four notes and each for five thousand dollars. Four notes! Look - at ’em!” - </p> - <p> - He staggered up and thrust them under the astonished gaze of Sylvena, but - with one stride the Squire was there and ripped them from his grasp. - </p> - <p> - “He has robbed us, Sylvene! He’s robbed us,” the Captain went on, mouthing - like a madman. “He’s got all our money and put us in debt to him beside. - The thief! The land pirate!” - </p> - <p> - He was making for the lawyer with his fists upraised, but Squire Phin - struck them down and forced the furious man back into his chair. He held - him there, glowering down on him with a menace that would have quelled a - wild beast. - </p> - <p> - “Go ahead, Phin Look,” whimpered the Captain; “put on another scar to - match the one your brother made!” - </p> - <p> - “I propose you shall listen to reason, Kleber,” Squire Phin fairly hissed, - “even if I have to hold you by the throat while I give you the truth. I - tell you again to come to my office, and if I fail to satisfy you, then - the law is open to you.” - </p> - <p> - The seaman sank back in his chair limply and the lawyer left him. But as - he turned to Sylvena with a look of infinite pity on his face, Captain - Willard leaped up. - </p> - <p> - “Don’t you see now that he has done father and us out of every dollar, - Sylvene?” he wailed. “Don’t you believe me when I say——” - </p> - <p> - But she came forward hastily and put both her hands into the Squire’s, - looked up at him trustfully and said: - </p> - <p> - “I believe in my—my—husband, that is to be, and that is the - first and the surest duty of a good wife!” The Squire put his arm about - her, bent down and kissed her, a happy sob in his throat choking back the - words he wanted to say. - </p> - <p> - The son stared at them a moment, his jaw dropping, whirled on his father - with a curse, and then clacking his fists together in impotent rage, - rushed out of the office with a bang of the door that made the little - building shiver. - </p> - <p> - With his one free hand the Squire put the crumpled notes to his teeth and - began quietly to tear at them. - </p> - <p> - He caught her looking at him with wistful inquiry in which there was - absolute trust. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t know my Bible as well as I do the revised statutes, Sylvie,” he - said, smiling at her, “but I believe there is a passage somewhere that - states that a good wife is better than much fine gold, yea, more precious - than rubies and all beautiful gems. Now with the thorough understanding - that the Bible is right, let us sit down and have a little family - conference about some things that a wife should know.” He brushed from her - hair and shoulders the bits of torn paper, drew her on his knee and began - to talk. The old Judge sat opposite, gazing mistily out of the window in - the direction his son had taken. - </p> - <p> - For the first and the last time in his life Squire Phin did not tell the - whole truth to the woman he loved. - </p> - <p> - But the sad, though unclouded resignation in the eyes of the woman, and - the dumb gratitude on the face of the old man opposite when he had - finished, made his lie a holy one. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXIII—HIRAM LOOK’S TWO LIVELY BUSINESS ENGAGEMENTS - </h2> - <h3> - WITH CAPTAIN NYMPHUS BODFISH OF THE “EFFORT” - </h3> - <p class="indent15"> - Old Zibe Haines walked out one day, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And a barbed wire fence it stopped his way. - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Never climbed over, never crawled through, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - But he bit that wire right plumb in two. - </p> - <p class="indent30"> - —Ballads of “Gumption.” - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>iram Look was - approaching Palermo village and letting his horse walk up the long - Witch-Run hill. He was in the middle of the seat of a brand-new top - carriage. His elbows were on his knees and he was gazing at the reflection - of himself in the bright dasher of the carriage. Occasionally he broke out - into mellow chucklings. - </p> - <p> - “I’d have given ten dollars if Phin and all close pers’nal friends had - been there with me to see it,” he soliloquised. “Me behind the wistery on - the porch of the widder’s, a-takin’ it all in, and he not knowin’ I was - there! Phew! Lemme git out a few more of them laughs I’ve had to swaller!” - </p> - <p> - He leaned back and haw-hawed boisterously, to the renewed astonishment of - the horse, who stopped and bent his head around to gaze at his master. - </p> - <p> - “G’long!” shouted the showman. “I’ve told you all about it three times - already on the way down. I had to tell some one.” - </p> - <p> - When the horse plodded on he set his elbows on his knees again and went on - with his delighted monologue. He was rolling it again over his tongue with - smacks of relish. - </p> - <p> - “Yess’r, I had him dead to rights! Had the very letters he’s been writin’ - to that other string to his bow. And then to have him whine to the widder - that he’d writ’ ’em ’cause he felt sometimes that she was - gittin’ ready to throw him over and he didn’t want to git left altogether! - Why, the dum fool! To tumble down like that at the first puff she give - him! Me? Why, I’d ’a’ lied till there was six inches of glare ice - in Tophet! I’d ’a’ said I didn’t know how to write! I’d ’a’ - said that I’d been sassin’ Jim the Penman’s grandmother and he was gittin’ - back at me. But he jest caved. I allus knowed he was a fool. - </p> - <p> - “And me a-settin’ there with my thumb in my vest armhole, takin’ it all in - and fattin’ on the ribs! Why, I’ve heard men git down and beg, I’ve seen - dogs set up on end and whine for a bone, I’ve seen a cat coax for - milk-strainin’s, but never nothin’ like the way that man got down and - rolled over and jumped through and played dead for that widder. - </p> - <p> - “Cap Nymp’ Bodfish, you kicked me once, and ’twas in the face and - eyes of the public, and you was due to git a lot of trouble. I might have - kicked you back; I might have gone on and broke a few of your arms and - legs and et cet’ry. But it wouldn’t have been a scientific job like this. - No, s’r, it wouldn’t have been real soul-satisfyin’. I never got no great - consolation out of lickin’ a man.” - </p> - <p> - Hiram sighed at his recollections in that line. But his face cleared - immediately. - </p> - <p> - “Him with his tongue out and his mouth all made up for that twenty - thousand and the widder! Him as had made his brags about her, and now has - got to face the grinnin’s and the sneerin’s! It will be lin-g’rin’ agony, - that’s what it will. - </p> - <p> - “Lordy mighty, will I ever forgit the face he made up when he see me - behind that wistery! O-h-h-h, I shall wake up in the night and laugh till - I set the roosters to crowin’. Him a-drivin’ out of the yard with the - widder givin’ him a few final lambastes with her tongue and me a-stickin’ - my head out through the wistery. He a-tumin’ ’round to git a last - look at her and seein’ me and realisin’ then—yass’r, realisin’! And - his wheel ketched on a post and he fell down into the bottom of the waggon - and began to push against the post like he was tryin’ to shove off a dory—clean - forgittin’ he was in a team! Oh, what a state that man’s mind must have - been in!” - </p> - <p> - Hiram rolled to and fro on the carriage seat in an ecstasy of mirth. - </p> - <p> - “Never’ll forgit what she said to him then. - </p> - <p> - “‘Take your reins and back up,’ says she. ‘I don’t want people ’round - here to think you’re drunk as well as a complete fool, you old - hump-backed, tarfingered garsoline tank! A pretty farmer you’d make—and - don’t know a waggon from a dory! Git out of my yard and don’t never let me - set eyes on you ag’in. I’ve got a man as is a man,’ and she pointed to me, - and I swow I couldn’t help it! I set my thumb to my nose and give him the - real, old-fashioned waggle. Ow, haw, haw! Ow, haw, haw!” - </p> - <p> - “And then she come right to me and give me a pat on the back and says: ‘It - didn’t need any of them writin’s to make me give him his come-uppance, Mr. - Look. I never give a snap of my finger for him, anyway, since I met you. - Ow, hee-hee!” - </p> - <p> - “You seem to be feelin’ ’bout as gay as they make ‘em,” called a - voice from the roadside. - </p> - <p> - Hiram started up and wiped the tears of merriment from his eyes. - </p> - <p> - Two men were standing by the highway fence, men whose solemn faces were - streaked by perspiration. One of them carried a small rifle. The other was - “Sawed-Off” Purday, the Palermo deputy-sheriff. He was armed with a club. - </p> - <p> - “Guess you must have heard the news about your friend,” said Purday, with - accent on the last word. “Nothin’ else would make you any more tickleder. - P’raps you’ve seen him along the ro’d. If you have we’ll be much obleeged - for a clue.” - </p> - <p> - “Seen who?” demanded Hiram, thinking at first that the men referred to - Captain Nymphus Bodfish. He eyed their weapons and felt a qualm of fear, - for he didn’t know what the exasperated skipper might have prepared for - him. - </p> - <p> - “Klebe Willard.” - </p> - <p> - “Klebe Willard!” There was relief as well as astonishment in Hiram’s tone. - </p> - <p> - “Well, there’s been hell to pave and no pitch hot down in the village,” - said Doughty, nothing loath to impart sensational news. “There’s four - possys out after Cap Willard and this is one of ’em. He’s took to - the woods somewheres and there ain’t no knowin’ where. But I reckon I’ll - catch him if I only get onto one clue,” he added, confidently. “No one - ever got away from me yet. Howsomever, it’s leg-weary work, this cuttin’ - acrost pastures and plowed land. You say you ain’t seen hide nor hair of - him?” - </p> - <p> - “I ain’t said nothin’ about it,” retorted Hiram. “But I ain’t seen him, if - that’s what you’re after. Why in Tophet don’t you tell a man what the - critter has done instead of standin’ there and chawin’ ter-backer with - that infernal eight-day motion?” - </p> - <p> - “It ain’t altogether clear jest what it was all about,” related Doughty, - calmly. “All that’s known is that Klebe come whoopin’ into the village - from Square Harbour to-day and tore into his father’s office and then come - out and hot-footed home as though Old Nick was after him. In an hour or so - the old Judge went down to Klebe’s house, and it seems from what the - neighbours say that Klebe had been tea-in’ up in the meantime and jawin - Myry, and a little while after the Judge come in he got to goin’ it worse - about somethin’ or other. There ain’t much head nor tail to stories, but - as near as I can find out he went to lick the old man, bein’ crazy drunk, - I reckon, and Myry stepped in between, and he floored the two of ’em - and kicked over one of the young ones and took to the woods howlin’ like a - looservee. It’s bad bus’ness.” - </p> - <p> - Purday spat far and sighed dolefully. - </p> - <p> - “Your brother and Sylvene has sort of took charge there to Klebe’s house,” - the deputy went on. “The old Judge ‘come to’ ’fore I left the - village. But the doc says Myry is in a turrible bad way with the tunk she - got. It won’t be none surprisin’ if murder comes out of it. It’s a glister - for the Willard fam’ly, that’s what it is!” - </p> - <p> - He shifted his club to the other hand and started over the fence. - </p> - <p> - “Come along, Bragg,” he commanded. “It’s more’n li’ble that he kept to the - Bunganuck ridge.” - </p> - <p> - Hiram had no desire to ask further questions. He lashed his hors’e and - rattled away toward the village at his best speed. - </p> - <p> - It had been one of those unseasonably hot May days, humid and sweltering, - with thunder-heads boiling above the horizon and a menace in the steaming - quietness of nature. - </p> - <p> - When Hiram turned in at the yard of the Look place the low sun was dipping - behind an ominously purple curtain in the west, and there was a jarring - growl of thunder behind the hills. - </p> - <p> - His brother was not at home. - </p> - <p> - “He may need old Hime for somethin’ or other,” he muttered as - “Figger-Four” Avery bobbed into the barn leading the horse. “It ain’t - especially the place for me to go buttin’ in, under the circumstances, but - I’m a right-hand man for Phin when he needs help, and he knows it now.” - </p> - <p> - He hurried away down the street, casting an occasional glance over his - shoulder at the purple-black curtain of cloud. “It looks as though it was - goin’ to be a ripper,” he commented. - </p> - <p> - In the yard of the Kleber Willard place little groups of villagers were - talking in hushed tones. - </p> - <p> - “How be they now inside there, Uncle Buck?” inquired Hiram, solicitously. - </p> - <p> - “Them that’s still inside is in a mighty bad way,” replied the old man, - grimly. He added yet more grimly, “And them that’s outside is most likely - wuss off than that.” - </p> - <p> - “Them that’s outside!” repeated Hiram, smartly. - </p> - <p> - “That’s what I said. After the Judge come round into his senses they - thought it was all right to leave him on the sofy till they got ready to - take him home, and in the gen’ral confusion here he’s got away. Took both - of Klebe’s young ones with him, the little boy and the little girl, and - Lord only knows where he’s got to. I tell ye ’twa’n’t safe to leave - him alone! An old man with the bang he got ’side of the head ain’t - gittin’ back into his right senses all in a minit.” - </p> - <p> - “What are you standin’ around here for, all of ye?” indignantly demanded - Hiram, raising his voice. “Why ain’t you out tryin’ to find the lost?” - </p> - <p> - “Why ain’t <i>you?</i>” retorted Uncle Lysimachus. “There’s fifty gone - after ’em already and the ro’d is still open. They didn’t take it - with ’em.” - </p> - <p> - The Squire had heard his brother’s voice in the yard and he came to the - door, his face haggard and grief-stricken. - </p> - <p> - “It’s an awful thing, brother,” he murmured when Hiram hastened to him. - “Myra is still insensible and the doctor fears a fracture of the skull. - But my worst fear now is for Judge Willard and the children.” - </p> - <p> - He cast a troubled look at the sky. - </p> - <p> - “Doesn’t anyone get a word from them?” he asked wistfully. - </p> - <p> - “You hold the fort here, Phin,” returned Hiram with bluff assurance. “I’ll - find ’em if I have to rake from here to Smyrna with a fine-toothed - comb. I’m gittin’ to be the greatest finder you ever see, Phin. I found - the Mayo girl, I found myself at last, I found a woman to-day who’ll have - me, and now I’ll find the ones you want or die tryin’. Don’t you worry, - Phin. It’s old Hime for ’em now.” - </p> - <p> - He started away on the trot, with no very clear idea of what he would do - first, but anxious to be moving. - </p> - <p> - Brickett was standing with shoulder set against the side of his door, one - eye on the shower that was crawling up the sky, the other on a man who sat - in a waggon before the store and who endeavoured to engage him in - conversation. “Hard-Times” Wharff was in his favourite position on one - corner of the platform, his sharp nose tilted toward the heavens and his - long hair waving in the first whispers from the approaching tempest. A man - who was on the other corner of the platform stepped down as the showman - came up. This person accosted Hiram brusquely. - </p> - <p> - “I’ve got a little bus’ness with you, mister,” he said. - </p> - <p> - It was Captain Nymphus Bodfish, saturnine and resolute. - </p> - <p> - Hiram was about to return an impatient retort about “other matters to - attend to just then,” when he caught a word of the conversation between - Brickett and the man in the waggon. - </p> - <p> - “Donno who it could be, <i>I’m</i> sure,” said Brickett. - </p> - <p> - “I allus knew there was <i>some</i> fools up this way,” said the man, with - rough jest, “but I didn’t reckon that any of them was fool enough to start - in a dory right out past Cod Head in the teeth o’ that thing comin’ up - there.” - </p> - <p> - He nodded a languid head at the big cloud. - </p> - <p> - “I tell ye,” insisted Bodfish, pressing close to Hiram, “your’n and my - bus’ness will have to be ‘tended to right now.” - </p> - <p> - “Did you say that you saw a dory makin’ out past Cod Head?” shouted Hiram - at the man in the waggon, looking past and over Bodfish with an utter - disregard that made the skipper grit his teeth. - </p> - <p> - “’Ep! Saw it as I was comin’ up the Cove ro’d,” returned the man. - </p> - <p> - “I donno who in sanup it can be,” repeated Brickett. - </p> - <p> - “With fifty men huntin’ for Judge Coll Willard and them two young ones, - that old man wand’rin’ somewheres out his senses, you ain’t got brains - enough to guess who it is in that dory?” fairly screamed Hiram. “It’s - blastnation lucky for you, Ase Brickett, that a man don’t need to do any - thinkin’ to run his lungs, or you’d die for lack of air.” - </p> - <p> - “I say I’ve got bus’ness——” recommenced Bodfish. - </p> - <p> - “Yes, and I’ve got bus’ness with <i>you!</i>” barked Hiram, rushing at him - so furiously that Bodfish staggered back. “This is the bus’ness: You come - with me as fast as your legs will take you and start that old garsoline - plunker of your’n. Hiper!” - </p> - <p> - “Not on your life! Not for you!” roared Bodfish. “I’ll fight you to a - standstill first!” - </p> - <p> - Hiram did not waste words with the man. He drove both his broad hands - against his breast, rushed him backward to the store wall and choked him - until his tongue lolled. - </p> - <p> - “Will ye? Will ye go?” he kept saying. - </p> - <p> - But each time he loosened his grip the skipper only cursed or cried for - help. He was struggling madly all the time, but Hiram’s strength and - passion were too much for him. - </p> - <p> - “I don’t b’lieve in abusin’ no man,” observed Brickett from his door. “I - reckon you’d better let that man go, Hime Look. You can’t sass and - browbeat and bang round ev’ry one in this place.” - </p> - <p> - “You fools,” panted Hiram, “Judge Willard and those children are in that - dory. There is no one else who would try to go out of this place into that - storm. It’s Judge Willard, I tell you! You are goin’ to take me out, Nymp’ - Bodfish, if I have to tear you apart and lug you down to your packet in - pound packages. I’ll kill the man that interferes. Will you go, I say?” - </p> - <p> - He fell upon the skipper with such desperate fury that when he again - released his clutch the man staggered away dizzily in his iron grip. - </p> - <p> - They disappeared around the corner of the storehouse and in a little while - the sharp “plock-plock” of the <i>Effort’s</i> engine barked in the - interim of the thunder crashes. - </p> - <p> - “Them Looks is sartinly the desp’ritest critters when they git started I - ever see,” remarked the man in the waggon, after he had watched the two - men out of sight. - </p> - <p> - “Well, if he weighed bigger’n that el’phunt of his he wouldn’t lug me and - my own bo’t off on no such wild-goose chase as he’s goin’ on,” growled - Brickett, getting ready to shut his big doors. He was apparently - unconvinced regarding the occupants of the dory. “That was about the - biggest piece of nerve I ever saw showed out, and I’ve seen some good ones - in my day.” - </p> - <p> - “And I’ve seen some good old showers in <i>my</i> time,” remarked the man - in the waggon, picking up his reins. “But”—a crackling explosion - interrupted him—-“this is sartinly the king of old lingers.” - </p> - <p> - He larruped his horse around the corner into the shed, for the big trees - were beginning to twist and moan and the big drops to lash the dust. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXIV—THE CREDIT SHEET, AFTER THE LOOK - </h2> - <h3> - AND THE WILLARD FAMILIES STRIKE THEIR BALANCES - </h3> - <p class="indent15"> - If we could write upon his gravestun’s face - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - A list of what he’d done to help this place, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - We’d have a roll of honour to his fame, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - But we should publish all our village shame. - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - There’d be a list of heirs and all their fights; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - The sorrows and the heart-aches over rights; - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - There’d be the frowns, the snarls, the sneers and scorn - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Out of the leavin’s of our dead men born. - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - There’d be the threats and mutt’rin’s of divorce - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And all the griefs that spring from Trouble’s source. - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - ‘Twas better that this calendar was crossed - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - With note:—“By order of J. Brown nol pressed.” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hat’s how it’s - been with her ever sence she come to,” said Mrs. Arad Tolman, with a jab - of her head toward the closed door of an inner room. There were moanings - and cries on the other side of the door as incoherent as the laments of an - animal in distress. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Tolman was busy over a brew of herbs that simmered in a little - saucepan on the Kleber Willard cook stove. Ranged around the kitchen walls - sat men and women. Some of the folks in the yard had hurried home when the - tempest broke. Others had taken shelter in the house, making the storm an - excuse for their curiosity. - </p> - <p> - “Sylvene and the Squire is doin’ what they can with her,” went on Mrs. - Tolman, stirring at the brew, “but she is in a turrible to-do, now I can - tell you! She don’t seem to mind the tunk on her head. That ain’t’ her - lamentation. But the way she’s takin’ on about them childern is enough to - melt a heart of stone. It was the first thing she began dingin’ away about - when she come to—just as if she smelt trouble in the air.” - </p> - <p> - “What’s been told her about the childern?” inquired Marriner Amazeen, - gazing at the closed door with pity on his seamed face. - </p> - <p> - “Only that they’ve been took care of at the neighbour’s till mornin’. But - you can’t stuff that excuse down a mother’s thro’t. Talkin’ and tellin’ - don’t fool ’em.” - </p> - <p> - “They’ve gone to Kingdom Come in that old dory, along with the Judge, and - she senses it,” said Uncle Buck, from his corner. “Them sensin’s is - mysterious, but they’re so.” - </p> - <p> - The lightnings were now fluttering in far-flung sheets that lit up the - kitchen windows palely. The worst of the tempest was over. But the wind - bellowed without and the rain sprayed fiercely upon the dripping panes. - </p> - <p> - “First it’s the childern and then it’s whiff over and a-takin’ on about - Klebe—‘poor, darlin’ Klebe,’ she calls him, ‘out there in the storm - and the rain.’ Well, I’d poor darlin’ a man o’ mine that fetched me a clip - like that and then run away.” - </p> - <p> - “Howsomever, Myry’s allus been quite a nagger—quite a nagger at - usyal times,” observed Uncle Buck, with mild reproof. “She prob’ly - realises now, when her eyes is open by her trouble, that a man can’t be - hectored only about so fur.” - </p> - <p> - Several men in the kitchen looked at their wives with significance in - their gaze. - </p> - <p> - A woman was beginning a dissertation on her views of the marriage - situation when there came a beating of wet feet on the stoop without, and - a man trudged in, soggy and dripping. The blast threw a fistful of water - at his back as he slammed the door behind him. - </p> - <p> - “They’ve got Klebe,” he announced briefly, standing close to the stove. - “How’s the woman?” - </p> - <p> - “’Tain’t the outside of her head now—it’s the inside of her - heart that’s ailin’,” said Mrs. Tolman. “She wants her childern and her - husband, spite of what he’s done to her.” - </p> - <p> - “They caught him up in the Bunganuck woods,” explained the man, replying - to rapid questions. “Purday took him and done a good job at it. And the - whole pack and possy of ’em was draggleder’n wet mushrats. They’re - dryin’ Klebe off down in the s’lectmen’s office now, and I reckon they’ll - keep him here to-night and take him to jail ter-morrer.” - </p> - <p> - “Has he been told about the children?” - </p> - <p> - “Yas, had to tell him. He’s been fightin’ like a cattymaran ever since he - was took, and Purday got tuckered out and told him so’s to break his - sperit. And it done it quick, now, I can tell ye!” - </p> - <p> - “Northin’ from outside?” The question was put with a glance seaward and a - mournful inflection of the voice, as though with certainty of the worst. - </p> - <p> - “Northin’.” The reply was equally mournful. - </p> - <p> - The little group lowered their heads and sat in silence as at a funeral. - </p> - <p> - In the hush the door of the inner room opened, and Squire Phin came into - the kitchen. - </p> - <p> - “Have you brought news?” he asked anxiously, putting his hand on the - shoulder of the new arrival. - </p> - <p> - The man repeated his story. - </p> - <p> - While the Squire stood there with head down, pondering, there was a - commotion in the other room. Again the door opened, and a comely woman - whose features were twisted by grief and suffering appeared. A cloth was - wrapped around her forehead, and her lips were swollen from sobbing. - Though Sylvena Willard strove with all her gentle strength to restrain - her, the woman tore away and came into the kitchen. - </p> - <p> - “Bring me my children,” she cried, staring from one to the other with eyes - glazed and sunken by woe. “Where’s Klebe? Send him after the children. - Something has happened. What is it? Don’t drive me mad, neighbours! What - is it?” - </p> - <p> - Her voice rose in a shriek. She ran first to one man and then to another-, - clasping her thin hands around their arms. The men were unresponsive and - embarrassed. Hysteria was upon her. - </p> - <p> - Squire Phin, with his strong hands and his comforting words, was at last - able to draw her away toward the inner room. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, Phineas Look,” she wailed, “tell me where my babies are.” - </p> - <p> - “They are in God’s hands, child,” he replied, his heart in his tones. - “Take courage. I am goin’ away now to bring some one. Take courage.” - </p> - <p> - While she stared at him with frightened, puzzled gaze he put her into - Sylvena Willard’s arms. - </p> - <p> - “Do your best with her, Sylvie, until I come back,” he whispered. “I am - going to get Kleber. The awful load that has come upon this household is - one that husband and wife should bear together. Do your best with her, - little woman! For I shall be gone a bit of a while. I am going to tell - your brother a story that he needs to hear.” - </p> - <p> - He hurried away. - </p> - <p> - During the long hour that elapsed the stricken woman sat in the kitchen - close by the outer door, motionless and speechless, her eyes fixed on the - latch. All of Sylvena’s coaxings could not draw her back to the inner - room. - </p> - <p> - The Squire came first into the room. Behind him was Captain Kleber - Willard, and jostling at his back were Deputy Sheriff Purday and his - helper, alert and officious. They wore the air of officers who knew that - this method of handling a prisoner was not regular, but who had been - overmastered by the Squire’s authority. With the group was another man, - the venerable pastor of the village church, whom they had overtaken making - his way with a lantern along the tempest-strewn street toward the house of - mourning. - </p> - <p> - Willard stepped inside the door, his knees bending lifelessly at each - step, his head wagging low between his shoulders. - </p> - <p> - His bloodshot eyes rolled shamefacedly from countenance to countenance. - The solemn regard of his neighbours shifted to the worn floor. They had no - consolation for him. His face began to pucker with the grimace of the - strong man who is trying to hold back the tears. - </p> - <p> - “Where are our little ones, Kleber?” His wife had thrown herself upon him. - She screamed the question over and over. - </p> - <p> - “Squire Look—Parson Emmons—some one—oh, for God’s sake—tell - her!” - </p> - <p> - His sobs choked him. With his arm about his wife he stumbled away to a - corner of the room, dragging her with him, and while the neighbours sat - silent and sympathetic, the women sobbing softly, the men grinding their - rough knuckles into their palms, the husband and the wife, their foreheads - against the wall, washed away in the first tears they had ever shed in a - common woe all the wrack of the petty quarrels, the little heart-burnings, - the frettings and the misunderstandings—all so mean and small in - this shadow of the mightiest tragedy in their lives. - </p> - <p> - After many, many minutes they were quiet, and clung to each other like - people in the dark, afraid. - </p> - <p> - Captain Willard trembled until his teeth rattled together. He was nerving - himself to face the picture of his guilt and his ingratitude—his - crime! That was it! His crime. - </p> - <p> - It was a picture on which the true light had been shed by Squire Phineas - Look, whispering to him in a corner of the selectmen’s office. - </p> - <p> - For some minutes the lawyer and the clergyman had been conversing apart in - an undertone, and now the minister came along to the husband and wife and - gently drew them away from the corner. - </p> - <p> - “Kleber and Myra,” he said, “it was not many years ago that I stood before - you in this house in the presence of almost the same neighbours who are - here now, and I joined your hands in wedlock. I have watched with sorrow - and disappointment the wretched troubles that have come into your home - life—needless troubles, foolish troubles. This is not a time for a - sermon. But it is a time for a friend to speak a word to you. I could have - said much to you before, but I refrained, for I realised that your hearts - were stubborn and froward, never having been touched by the softness of - true love and forbearance. It is the cruel and chastening hand of trouble - that does it now. I believe that now your home and your hearts are swept - clean of the anger and pride and selfishness and the little vices that - ruin homes. I believe that you are now willing to shoulder together the - awful burden that has been placed upon you.” - </p> - <p> - The woman’s face grew white, and she swayed into her husband’s arms. - Willard stood gasping for his breath. - </p> - <p> - “I married your bodies once before, Kleber and Myra. To-night I am going - to marry your hearts and your souls, for, God pity you both, you cannot - stand alone and bear this horror.” - </p> - <p> - The people in the kitchen were too raptly engaged to hear the outside door - open. The Squire stood in the shadow near it, and a soft “Hist!” engaged - his attention. - </p> - <p> - Hiram’s head was thrust through the opening. He was bareheaded, his - clothing was in shreds, and the lamplight shed feeble gleams on a hideous - black and blue circle around his sound eye. - </p> - <p> - When the Squire advanced on tiptoe Hiram seized his arm, pulled him - outside and, softly as he had opened it, he closed the door. - </p> - <p> - “I’ve got ’em,” he whispered excitedly. “It was a God-awful trip, - Phin, but I got ’em! It was old Hime for ’em!” - </p> - <p> - “You saved them!” gasped his brother. - </p> - <p> - “Sounder’n nuts. But there wa’n’t no time to spare. Old Judge flat on his - back in the dory and them two little children huddled down side of him - squealin’ for him to wake up! Heard ’em above the roar of the wind, - Phin! I guess it was God’s way of leadin’ me to ’em. I’ve got ’em - waitin’ ’round the corner of the house here. When the old Judge - come to the second time he was right as a trivet. Didn’t have no idee how - he happened to be out in that dory. Kind o’ dreamed he was runnin’ away - from a devil or somethin’ and savin’ the children—and I don’t blame - him for thinkin’ it was the devil, for that Klebe——” - </p> - <p> - “Hush, brother,” said the Squire gently; “there have been strange - heart-stirrings about here to-day.” - </p> - <p> - “You’re right, Phin,” replied the showman heartily. “I guess mine’s been - stirred, too. ’Cause when I undertook to thank Nymp’ Bodfish at the - wharf after we got back for havin’ been so kind and gentlemanly as to take - me down the bay and save the Judge and the young ones, he drawed off and - got in one pelt at my eye, and I didn’t chase him nor want to. I tell ye, - I’ve got jest as good a disposition as any one when I’ve got half a chance - to show it.” - </p> - <p> - He poked the puffiness under his eye and muttered to himself: - </p> - <p> - “I guess I reelly am gettin’ to be pretty fair-minded, ’cause if - he’d a-blacked the two of ’em I’m willin’ to acknowledge that he - wouldn’t have been more’n half square with me for what I’ve done to him.” - </p> - <p> - The suddenness of this news of rescue had dizzied the Squire for a moment, - but he now pushed his brother toward the corner of the house with a slap - on the back that made Hiram cringe. - </p> - <p> - “Bring them in, Hime! This is your triumph!” He threw open the kitchen - door with a slam that brought the eyes of all in the kitchen around with a - startled snap. The minister paused. The father and mother stared in - affright. - </p> - <p> - “Bring them along, brother!” shouted the Squire joyously. “Here’s Hero - Hiram Look,” he announced, “and his salvage from the sea!” - </p> - <p> - One child was asleep in the Judge’s arms. The other clung to Hiram’s hand - and blinked at the light streaming from the open door. The mother screamed - and would have dashed upon them, but the Squire gently held her back. - </p> - <p> - “Wait, this is a wedding!” he cried. “Hands together this way! God bless - you and yours. Now, Brother Hime, bring the wedding presents.” - </p> - <p> - “I ain’t a very extry lookin’ sight to come to a weddin’,” said the - showman, “but I didn’t come to your first one, Klebe, and I didn’t send no - present. All is, I’ve tried to square myself at this second one, and my - best wishes for everlastin’ happiness goes along with ’em,” he - added wistfully. - </p> - <p> - He put the sleeping child into the mother’s arms and stood back to let the - Judge advance toward his son with the light of forgiveness in his eyes. - </p> - <p> - “Oh, father!” wept Kleber, stumbling forward and dragging himself on his - knees toward the old man. “I didn’t know! I didn’t know until the Squire - told me.” - </p> - <p> - “Stand up, my boy,” said the Judge, putting out his trembling hand. “All - of us know better now, and some knowledge is bought at cruel prices.” - </p> - <p> - It was without a word that Hiram took the hand that Kleber Willard put out - to him when he turned from his father after a time. But as they stood - there clinging to each other Hiram leaned forward with a flash of humour - that relieved the situation, whispering: - </p> - <p> - “That black eye, Klebe, is the dot, period, full stop, set down after the - very last fight of my whole life, and I got it for your sake.” - </p> - <p> - “Come, people!” called the Squire from the doorway. “Come away with me - now. The wedding is over. The night is getting late and the stars are out - again.” - </p> - <p> - He smiled across the room at Sylvena as he said it. - </p> - <p> - Then he began with jocular pokings to push the folks out of the door, and - even subjected Deputy-Sheriff Purday to that treatment when the zealous - officer came along to have a private word with him. - </p> - <p> - “But look-a-here, Squire,” protested Purday, hanging back, “Klebe is - really under arrest, you know, and you understand what the law is.” - </p> - <p> - “Deputy,” the Squire said, holding him by the arm a moment, “under the - circumstances the highest law I know of is this: ‘What God hath joined - together let no man put asunder.’” - </p> - <p> - He pointed to the mother and the father with the children between them. - </p> - <p> - “The grand jury of human hearts returns no indictment. Go home.” - </p> - <p> - He pushed Purday out behind the last straggler and slammed the door and - bolted it on the inside. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XXV—AQUARIUS WHARFF SEES SOMETHING BESIDES HARD TIMES - </h2> - <h3> - IN THE SUNSET - </h3> - <p class="indent15"> - Slowly he passed, for he stopped to pick - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - The stones from the road with his old crook stick. - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - Rolled them left and rolled them right - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - From early morning till late at night. - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - And to wondering folk who paused to ask - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - The reasons that prompted this self-set task - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - He said, with a smile for their doubting gaze, - </p> - <p class="indent15"> - “I’m simply helpin’ ye mend your ways!” - </p> - <p> - <br /> - </p> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t was August - again. The flies buzzed lazily in the late afternoon hush, and the - knife-nicked bench in the shade cast by Asa Brickett’s store had its - accustomed row of old men, who buzzed in conversation as lazily as the - flies. - </p> - <p> - “This has been about the tejousest summer I ever put through,” complained - Uncle Lysimachus Buck, after a yawn. “Ev’rything seems to be deader’n the - latch on a bulkhead door.” - </p> - <p> - “Mebbe it’s because Hime Look has settled up country on the Snell farm,” - observed Marriner Amazeen with a bit of malice. - </p> - <p> - “Reports is that he’s givin’ ’em a little flavour of circus right - along in that section,” said Dow Babb. - </p> - <p> - “Feller from that way was tellin’ me that Hime has been doin’ a job of - breakin’ up with that el’phunt hitched to the plow. Hime allowed as how P. - T. Barnum tells in his book that he used an el’phunt to plow with, and he - wa’n’t goin’ to let no P. T.‘s git ahead of <i>him</i>. Ev’ry hoss that - come along past stuck up ears and tail and tried to climb a tree and pull - the tree up after. Feller said that one of the neighbours went to Hime - fin’ly and said that he’d been readin’ in some tormented book erruther - that in old days the Romans, or some of them old sirs, whoever they be, - used to sacrifice animiles when there was any good luck had come to ’em - and they wanted to celebrate account of it. Neighbour hinted that marryin’ - Abby Snell was good enough luck for any man to brag of, and wanted to know - why Hime didn’t offer Imogene up as a sacrifice. Told Hime the neighbours - would git up a bee, if he did, and club in with him mighty enthusiastic.” - </p> - <p> - Babb unlocked his legs and chuckled. - </p> - <p> - “Hime spoke up and told the neighbour as how ’twas Imogene that had - made the match ’tween him and Abby, and that if it come to a choice - of gittin’ along without the el’phunt or a cook stove Abby’d let the cook - stove go ev’ry time. Didn’t get much satisfaction out of Hime, now I tell - ye!” - </p> - <p> - “I donno of any one that ever did,” said Marriner Amazeen. - </p> - <p> - “Cap Nymp’ Bodfish licked him once, time o’ the May gale, there,” stated - Uncle Buck. “Cap Nymps told me he did.” - </p> - <p> - “Say, do you s’pose if he’d ever licked Hime Look he’d a-hid off in the - woods all next day and then sold the <i>Effort</i> for a song and scooted - to Hackenny, for all we know of him here?” demanded Amazeen. “No, s’r, - there was no one ever done Hime Look in this world, except his own brother - in town meetin’, and then t’was Look eat Look.” - </p> - <p> - “Curi’s how things has all come around the last year,” mused Lysimachus. - “The Squire married to Sylvene and settled in the Willard house and the - old Judge actin’ as proud of him as——” - </p> - <p> - Brickett interrupted here, coming from the inside of the store, where he - had been perusing his daily paper. - </p> - <p> - “Why shouldn’t he be proud of him?” he demanded, his thumb on an item, his - glasses on the end of his nose. “You listen here a minute.” - </p> - <p> - He began to read in a sing-song manner: - </p> - <p> - “A well-founded rumour from the State House is to the effect that the - Governor has tendered the vacant Supreme Court judgeship to the Hon. - Phineas Look, of Palermo. Mr. Look’s legal qualifications are too well - known in this State to need comment. It is understood that he is in no - sense an active candidate, and the honour has been tendered by the - Governor to the Palermo man by the Executive’s initiative, the Governor - following his frequently expressed intention of letting certain - appointments within his gift seek the man. A Supreme Court judgeship is - certainly not an office to be hawked among politicians, and such an - appointment will be a credit to the State and the Bar. Mr. Look is——” - </p> - <p> - Brickett ran his eye down the column. - </p> - <p> - “There’s pretty nigh a whole colume here about him,” he said. “But there - ain’t any need of readin’ it. It’s matters we’re all knowin’ to about him. - Papers was lookin’ for somethin’ to fill up with, I persume.” - </p> - <p> - He flopped the sheet. - </p> - <p> - “What I wanted in pertickler to call your attention to,” he went on, “was - something reel interestin’. It says here that a man has shot himself in a - New York lodging-house, and from marks on his clothes and his papers it is - supposed that he is King Bradish, who was at one time well known in - certain sportin’ quarters. That must be our King Bradish, don’t you s’pose - so?” - </p> - <p> - “Prob’ly,” said Uncle Buck without great interest. “And I’m glad he done - it before he’d skun the last cent out of his poor old mother. I guess she - ain’t got much left, as it is.” - </p> - <p> - “Well, signs and wonders never cease,” sighed Marriner Amazeen, relighting - his pipe; “as I said when I witnessed Sum Badger’s new will t’other day,” - he continued between puffs. - </p> - <p> - “Haskell’s girl gits it, does she?” asked Babb. - </p> - <p> - “Yas! Sence ’Caje Dunham whirled ’round and showed some - signs of bein’ human, Sum found that he was in a class by himself as the - meanest man in town, and he got jealous of ’Caje.” - </p> - <p> - “It won’t hurt this place none if some of the rest of ’em runs - races of the same sort,” said Buck. - </p> - <p> - The click of the key in the lock above their heads startled them. - </p> - <p> - Squire Phin was coming down the stairs, shoving the key of his office into - his trousers. - </p> - <p> - “We’ve jest been list’nin’ to some news about you, Squire,” called one of - the group on the bench. - </p> - <p> - Squire Phin came around the corner of the stairway, put his hands behind - his back and smiled at them. - </p> - <p> - “What now, neighbours?” he inquired. - </p> - <p> - “Says here in Ase’s paper that you’re goin’ to be a judge,” replied Buck. - </p> - <p> - “Well, that <i>is</i> news,” said the Squire, and yet with a quizzical - cock to his eyebrows that indicated that he was in no measure surprised. - </p> - <p> - “Go ’long with you! You knowed it all the time!” snorted Buck. - </p> - <p> - “I always believe in giving my old neighbours all the news I can when they - want it,” the lawyer said humorously, “for news has been scarce in town - lately. I’m going to give you something straight now. You will hear this - before the newspapers do: I have written to the Governor declining that - honour with grateful thanks.” - </p> - <p> - “Won’t be a judge?” queried Amazeen with astonishment, - </p> - <p> - “I’d rather be Phin Look, lawyer,” said the Squire, with a queer little - glint in his eyes. - </p> - <p> - “I’ll bet you ten dollars I know why,” snapped Uncle Buck, with the - frankness of an old friend. “A man that knows was telling me that all you - have to do is set up there in your office and rake in money hand over - fist, sellin’ law to the big corporations. And a Supreme Court judge only - gits five thousand a year.” - </p> - <p> - His gimlet eye bored the Squire, and a question that his curiosity had - prompted for a long time popped out of his mouth. - </p> - <p> - “A man what ought to know told me that you was clearin’ fifteen thousand - dollars a year out of law. Now, Squire, I stump you to say that he lied. - Did he, or didn’t he?” - </p> - <p> - The lawyer so thoroughly appreciated the character of Uncle Buck that this - attack was flavoured for him with delicious humour. He came close to the - old man and put his hands on his hips as he straddled before him. - </p> - <p> - “I’m goin’ to tell you the honest truth, Uncle Lys,” he said. - </p> - <p> - The inquisitor pulled himself forward. - </p> - <p> - “If a man is a Supreme Court judge in this State he must be away from home - almost three-quarters of his time. Now the straight facts of the case are——” - </p> - <p> - He whirled on his heel and pointed up the street. They all could see the - gate of the Willard place. A woman was standing there waiting, and against - her pretty white gown was silhouetted the figure of a shaggy dog. - </p> - <p> - “Now, the straight facts are, Uncle Lys, my wife wants me home every night - to help water the garden. I’ve coaxed and teased, but she won’t let me be - a judge.” - </p> - <p> - A pucker of mirth came around his lips. - </p> - <p> - “It’s awful to be bossed around that way by a woman, Uncle Lys.” - </p> - <p> - “Oh, you darnation fool!” snorted the old man, making a swipe at the - lawyer with his cane. - </p> - <p> - Squire Phin dodged in mock terror and went away laughing. - </p> - <p> - Uncle Aquarius Wharff had come up and taken his favourite position on the - platform to study the evening skies. - </p> - <p> - “How is it looking to-night?” asked the lawyer, kindly humouring the old - man’s vagary. - </p> - <p> - “Clouds is master fine things with the sun-fire behind ’em, ain’t - they, Squire?” returned Uncle Wharff. “Look at ’em, all splattered - with colours that the cherubim has been busy all day a-mixin’ so’s to have - ‘em ready for the sunset time. Blazin’ with glory, that’s what they be! - Seems as if you could jump off’n Witch-Run Hill straight into the - hereafter. Sometimes it has seemed to me that p’raps the angels do open - the gates once in a while at sunset time jest to see if they are well ’iled - ag’inst the Gre’t Day of the Hereafter. It’s a spankin’ fine prospect out - there now, Squire. You take that mixtur’ of gold and roses and all them - colours that make your heart feel swelly inside, and it means settled - weather for a long time to come, Squire, for a long time to come!” - </p> - <p> - The lawyer patted the shoulder of the old man’s sun-faded coat. - </p> - <p> - “God bless you for a prophet, Uncle Aquarius,” he said gently. - </p> - <p> - Then he stepped off the platform and started up the street, waving a - greeting to the white figure at the gate. She came to meet him, with - shining eyes, and they went in hand in hand. - </p> - <h3> - THE END - </h3> - <div style="height: 6em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Squire Phin, by Holman Day - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SQUIRE PHIN *** - -***** This file should be named 55340-h.htm or 55340-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/3/4/55340/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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- <head>
- <title>Squire Phin, by Holman Day</title>
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-The Project Gutenberg EBook of Squire Phin, by Holman Day
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-Title: Squire Phin
-
-Author: Holman Day
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-Release Date: August 11, 2017 [EBook #55340]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SQUIRE PHIN ***
-
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-
-Produced by David Widger from page images generously
-provided by the Internet Archive
-
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-</pre>
-
- <div style="height: 8em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h1>
- SQUIRE PHIN
- </h1>
- <h2>
- By Holman Day
- </h2>
- <h4>
- New York: Harper & Brothers
- </h4>
- <h3>
- 1913
- </h3>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0001.jpg" alt="0001 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0001.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0003.jpg" alt="0003 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0003.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0010.jpg" alt="0010 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0010.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0011.jpg" alt="0011 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0011.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0013.jpg" alt="0013 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0013.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p>
- <b>CONTENTS</b>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> SQUIRE PHIN </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I—“HARD-TIMES” WHARFF COCKS HIS
- NOSE TO SNIFF TROUBLE </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II—“HIME” LOOK’S HOMECOMING WITH AN
- ELEPHANT </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III—FROM THE MOUTH OF MARRINER
- AMAZEEN </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV—SQUIRE PHIN FINDS HYMEN’S TORCH
- BURNING HIS FINGERS </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V—HIRAM LOOK MEETS KLEBER WILLARD
- BRIEFLY AND BRISKLY </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI—SQUIRE PHIN HAS A WORD OF
- BUSINESS WITH KING BRADISH </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII—THE BUSINESS OF HUMAN HEARTS
- </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII—SQUIRE PHIN ACTS AS PEACEMAKER
- </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX—SUMNER BADGER MAKES A WILL AND,
- UNWITTINGLY, A DISCLOSURE </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X—HIRAM LOOK PULLS IN SIMON PEAK
- FROM THE FLOTSAM OF LIFE </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI—THE COMBINATION THAT PROVED TOO
- MUCH </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII—THE LIVELY FIRST APPEARANCE OF
- “THE LOOK BROTHERS </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII—THE “COME-UPPANCE” OF CAPTAIN
- NYMPHUS BODFISH </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV—THE PACT OF “ORPHAN HILL” </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV—SOME OF THE POSSIBILITIES IN A
- “CORNET BRASS BAND” </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI—THE DISAPPOINTING “TEST CASE”
- OF SUMNER BADGER, </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII—WHAT DEVELOPED AT THE FORUM IN
- ASA BRICKETT’S STORE, </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII—YANKEE DISPOSITION IS NOT
- EXACTLY UNDERSTOOD, </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX—SQUIRE PHIN SEES AND REPLEVINS
- WHAT BELONGS TO HIM </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX—PALERMO’S “MARCH MEETIN’” </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI—WHY HIRAM LOOK WENT OUT OF THE
- CIRCUS BUSINESS </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII—HOW SYLVENA WILLARD “TRIED IT
- ON THE DOG,” </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII—HIRAM LOOK’S TWO LIVELY
- BUSINESS ENGAGEMENTS </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV—THE CREDIT SHEET, AFTER THE
- LOOK </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV—AQUARIUS WHARFF SEES SOMETHING
- BESIDES HARD TIMES </a>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- SQUIRE PHIN
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER I—“HARD-TIMES” WHARFF COCKS HIS NOSE TO SNIFF TROUBLE
- </h2>
- <p class="indent20">
- “Miss Lu-ce-e-e had a par-ret,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- An’ she kep’ it in the gar-ret,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- An’ she fed it on a car-ret,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- An’ she called him J. Iscar-ret,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Tidy-um,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Tidy-um!
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- “An’ the par-ret had a feather
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- That was blue in stormy weather,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Or ‘twas red,—I donno whether,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- But ‘twas either one or t’ether,
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- Tidy-um,
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- Tidy-um!”
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- —Favourite Song of “Hard-times” Wharff.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he village sounds
- in Palermo that sleepy afternoon were only the “summer snorin’s,” as
- Marriner Amazeen used to say. There was the murmur of flies buzzing lazily
- around some banana, skins which curled limply in the August sun in front
- of Asa Brickett’s store. At the side of the building, in a patch of shade,
- a half-dozen old men, jack-knifed on a rickety settee, droned in
- intermittent conversation. From open kitchen windows along the village
- street came subdued sounds of the after-dinner work of the housewives—clash
- of cutlery and clatter of dishes. In a dusty maple whose lower branches
- had taken toll from passing loads of hay, a cicada shrilled his long-drawn
- note, like an almost interminable yawn.
- </p>
- <p>
- “First August fiddler I’ve heard,” commented one of the old men in the
- shade. “As old Drew used to say in his <i>Rural Intelligencer</i>:
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- “When August’s locusts wind their horn
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Then first you know, Good Summer’s gone!”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, you don’t have to walk very fur in this sun to find out that she
- ain’t gone yit,” remarked an old man who had just arrived. He picked a few
- fresh burdock leaves and stuffed them into the crown of his cotton hat.
- “Some one ought to make ’Quar’us Wharff come in here out o’ that
- sun,” he growled, scowling at a figure that stood on the corner of
- Brickett’s store platform, as straight and stiff as the gnawed
- hitching-post on the opposite corner.
- </p>
- <p>
- With cadence fully as sleepy as the other sounds of the languorous
- afternoon, a squeaking whiffle-tree came down the avenue of elms that
- bordered the street.
- </p>
- <p>
- The whiffle-tree was attached to a surrey that showed a city smartness of
- paint and trimmings under the dust. The bulk of the man on the front seat
- strained his linen coat. The two ladies on the back seat, evidently his
- wife and daughter, fairly crushed the springs with their weight.
- </p>
- <p>
- The portly man pulled up at the watering trough in Palermo’s little square
- and grunted over the wheel. When the horses began to wallow in the tub,
- plunging their reeking noses almost to their eyes, he handed the reins to
- his wife and walked toward the store, his gaze upon a bunch of wilted
- bananas that dangled just inside the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- The six gaunt men in the shade surveyed this triple display of city
- avoirdupois with disfavour. Somehow it all seemed a silent boast of urban
- prosperity.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t reckon his woman needs to hang onto them reins very tight,”
- grunted Uncle Lysimachus Buck. “It’s all them horses can do to walk with
- that load—much less run away.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “All city folks do is stuff themselves mornin’, noon and night, and then
- ’tween meals,” said Marriner Amazeen. “He’s after suthin’ to eat
- now, and I’ll bet ye on it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “How much for a dozen of those bananas?” asked the rotund man, addressing
- the individual who stood so stiffly on the corner of the platform.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Wind sou’ by one p’int to the west, havin’ swung from west by nothe,” was
- the reply. He did not look at his questioner, but kept his head straight
- and his nose in the air.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That ain’t nothin’ but ’Quar’us havin’ a weather-vane spell,”
- apologised Brickett, appearing in the door and lounging against the side
- of the building. He drawled, “I’ll sell ye fifteen for a quarter. Help
- yourself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The stranger broke off the fruit, stuffed it into his wide pockets, placed
- the change in Brickett’s languid palm, and went back to his carriage,
- casting an eye of scorn on the platform sentinel as he repassed him.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then he climbed painfully back to his seat. With a grunt he pulled the
- reluctant horses back from the trough, where they were now making pretence
- of drinking, sucked his tongue at them pantingly and proceeded on his
- “carriage tour of the coast.”
- </p>
- <p>
- As the horses plodded into the sun-glare from under the village elms, the
- portly man swung around and said to his wife and daughter: “The town pump
- and the town clock and the town fool, fifty houses bunched around ’em
- and everybody asleep! My God, think of living in a place like this all
- your life.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The old man standing on the store platform wasn’t crazy, was he, papa?”
- the daughter inquired.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why don’t you use your eyes once in a while, Belle?” the fat man snorted.
- “The way country towns let old lunatics run at large is something awful.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He whipped up and the surrey clattered across the bridge at the head of
- the cove. There was a puff of cool air from the shadows where the tide
- gurgled about the weedy piles, and the three people went on around the
- hill with the tang of the salt smell in their nostrils, and in their minds
- a totally erroneous idea of Palermo and one of its institutions.
- </p>
- <p>
- Fat city men are sometimes too matter-of-fact to understand the
- eccentricities of genius. This traveller simply went on—out of
- Palermo and out of this story—he and his wife and his daughter, his
- reeking horses and smart surrey. He beheld Aquarius Wharff actually
- engaged in his biggest job of prognostication—-snuffing at the first
- of a train of events that “ripped open” Palermo—and yet he only
- clucked to his horses and drove on and never realised what he had
- observed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hard-times” Wharff had been standing for quite two hours in the broiling
- sun on the extreme corner of Asa Brickett’s grocery store platform. His
- attitude was familiar enough to his townsmen. He was on the tripod, so to
- speak, as a soothsayer, though it is hardly proper, perhaps, to speak of
- one leg as a tripod. He wearily balanced himself, shifting feet from time
- to time. His dingy old felt hat had the crown pinched to a peak and,
- before and behind, the broad brim was similarly pinched to peaks. The
- effect was somewhat that of a general’s chapeau, and its ludicrous
- illusion was heightened by a considerable assortment of rooster’s tail
- feathers thrust into the crown.
- </p>
- <p>
- When “Hard-times”—a name more generally employed locally than
- Aquarius—stood on one foot in front of Brickett’s store, his hat
- flattened fore and aft—‘twas known by local observers that he was
- having one of his “weather-vane spells.” Now, this little fancy harmed no
- one, and it was agreed in Palermo that no other resident could smell a
- change of weather so far ahead as Aquarius Wharff.
- </p>
- <p>
- If he stood on two feet, well balanced, and glowered grimly, he was merely
- indulging in a fancy for his own amusement. Though he never explained his
- ruminations to any one, it was suspected that he revelled in a proud
- triumph of the imagination and felt all the haughtiness of a bald-headed
- eagle. Certain it is that Palermo respected his abstraction and did not
- smile when he stroked his plumage and fixed a still more piercing gaze on
- the horizon.
- </p>
- <p>
- Aquarius Wharff believed—and his townsmen agreed—that as a
- weather-vane he was distinctly serviceable to Palermo. He would inveigh
- against the inaccuracy of the dingy, rusty arrow on the Union
- Meeting-house, and then would perk his nose into the wind, and rotate
- himself on his wavering leg to show his own superior manageability. When
- he permitted himself to play eagle it was purely for his own relaxation.
- </p>
- <p>
- When he was not engaged in either pursuit Aquarius Wharff was a mild and
- neighbourly man who lived with his “old maid” sister, Virgo, in the little
- brown house beyond the currier shop. His twin delusions were his only
- “outs,” and his tolerant neighbours in Palermo had long ago ceased to pay
- any attention to his divagations. But when a man stands for two hours in
- the broiling sun in one attitude he makes a picture that disturbs his
- friends. Uncle Lysimachus Buck, whose chair was propped against the side
- of the store in the shade, desisted from “teaming” a worried caterpillar
- with his cane and called querously: “For timenation’s sake, ’Quar’us,
- come set down out o’ the sun, do! It makes me steam and sweat to look at
- ye.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Wind quart’rin’ to west’ard, mack’rel sky, sign o’ rain, hard times
- gen’rally and nothin’ ’cept air put into doughnut holes nowadays,”
- croaked Aquarius without turning his head; “I jest see six crows fly
- s’uth’ards from the Cod-Head spruces, and that means somethin’ ’sides
- a heavy fog.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He shifted to his other leg and set his neck more stiffly, and continued
- at his feat of endurance with the pertinacity of an Indian fakir.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He’ll git sunstruck, sure’s Tophet’s a poor place to store powder in,”
- commented Buck. His snappy tones indicated that his selfishness at being
- annoyed by the figure in the sun’s glare was more provoked than his
- solicitude.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why don’t you git under a tree and rest?” he demanded. “An’ if you’re
- bound and determined to play dog-vane, then hold an emb’rel over yourself.
- Swan, if it don’t make me dizzy to watch him!” Uncle Buck took off his
- cotton hat and turned the burdock leaves in the crown to bring their cool
- surface next to his bald head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ve thought at times that ’Quar’us was losin’ his mind some—more’n
- what runs in the family,” observed Dow Babb, unhooking his toe from behind
- his ankle and immediately retwisting his long, gaunt legs in the other
- direction. His townsmen had nicknamed him “Fly” Babb on account of this
- trait.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He ain’t nobody’s fool, ’Quar’us ain’t,” remarked Brickett, who,
- in the midday dearth of traffic, was lounging at the shady side of the
- store. “Them Wharffses is weather-struck and always was so, ’way
- back. It runs in the fam’ly—seems to! Old Gran’ther Wharff, you
- know, kept a di’ry of storms, droughts, hot and cold streaks and all such,
- till the day he died, and his son Zodiac figured out of that di’ry all the
- signs of storms and so forth. I’ve got ’em writ some’ere in my desk—change
- o’ wind, birds’ flyin’s, bugs’ actions, cobweb signs on the grass and all!
- Yass’r, the weather streak runs in the family, all right.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I reckon it must ’a’ been runnin’ hard in Zodiac Wharff,” snorted
- Buck, “to make him saddle sech names on to his children as ’Quarius,
- Capri-cornus, A-rees, Virgo and—what was that light-complected one
- that went West and got lugged off by a terronado? I can never think of
- that dum name!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sagittar’us, wa’n’t it?” suggested Brickett.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ye-e-aw, that’s it, and he called them ‘Signs of the Zodiac,’ Zode did.
- No wonder the most of ’em died young in that fam’ly! Names like
- them would kill yaller dogs.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “’Quar’us, ain’t you comin’ in out o’ that blaze o’ sun?” rasped
- Buck.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t buther me when I’m prognosticatin’,” replied the stubborn
- meteorologist; “ain’t you gittin’ all your weather from me free—and
- hard times all ’round us at that—wind shiftin’s and signs and
- portents and all the wonders of the heavens? Then lemme alone. Kingbird
- chasin’ a crow,” he went on with his eye on the horizon, where the dwarf
- spruces bristled on Cod-Head like spikes on a huge quillpig. “And ’tain’t
- all weather that’s a-comin’ this way to-day.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Spite o’ that loony streak in the Wharffses they have done some pretty
- tol’lable s’prisin’ things,” observed Dow Babb, untwisting his legs and
- reversing his clutch. “There’s somethin’ else in ’em besides that
- weather crack. Now, we all know here in P’ler-mo that ’Quar’us can
- smell a weather change quick’s a groundhog can. Born with the faculty, you
- might say. Takes it from old Zode, and even further back, for that matter.
- But him and Virgo, both of ’em, take somethin’ different than the
- weather streak from the mother’s side. She was old Rudd Goffses’ girl of
- Smyrna Mills, and old Rudd could cast a mist.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ve heard he could,” vouchsafed Marriner Amazeen, striking the dottle
- from his clay pipe into his hard palm with a flare of sparks and preparing
- for a refill.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He was born with a caul, Rudd was.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Heard that, too,” tersely agreed Amazeen. “Old Aunt Spencer ’fore
- she died was tellin’ my mother that the caul was just like lace, and came
- down all ‘round his face, and they had to untie it where it was knotted
- behind jest like a woman’s veil.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yass’r, he had the second sight and the seventh sense, and he could
- really magick folks, Rudd could,” Babb went on; “and there’s people alive
- right over in Smyrna to-day that’ll tell you what they’ve seen with their
- two eyes. ’Tain’t no use for us to poo-hoo things that was before
- our time, just ’cause we didn’t see ’em. I tell you, the old
- sirs could do things we couldn’t, and Rudd was one of the best o’ the lot
- in the magickin’ line. One day down to Smyrna, in the Guild deestrick, he
- cast a mist on much as a dozen people at once, and they thought they saw a
- Braymy rooster of old Matherson’s haulin’ off a twenty foot log up street.
- Whilst they was standin’ gawpin’, ’long come old Zene Sparks and
- says, ‘What ye standin’ here for, all on ye?’
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Ain’t it enough of a thing to stand around for when a rooster is haulin’
- off a log like that?’ asked one o’ the crowd, pointin’ his finger.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Zeke ups and says, ‘That rooster must be owin’ all on ye money by the way
- you’re lookin’ at him. He ain’t doin’ anything except walk along with an
- oat straw hitched to his tail!’
- </p>
- <p>
- “And that’s all there was to it, so fur’s Zene could see. The mist wasn’t
- cast on him, you understand, for he wasn’t there at the start-off.”
- </p>
- <p>
- There followed an interval of meditative silence, broken at length by the
- slow voice of Amazeen, beginning another chronicle.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ve heard tell,” he droned, “of Rudd bettin’ ten bushels of oats down to
- the old blacksmith shop that used to set where the curry shop sets now,
- that he would put his head right against the butt of a hemlock log that
- laid in the yard and crawl right through it lengthwise and come out o’ the
- little end. They took him up—the three or four that was there—and
- he got down on his hands and knees, and they all swear to a man that he
- went right out o’ sight into that log. Up come a man that the mist wasn’t
- over, and when they told him what kind of a hen was on he vowed and
- declared that he couldn’t see nothin’ out o’ the way but old Rudd Goff
- crawlin’ along the top of the log, and then the man up and gave Rudd a
- jeerously old swat with his gad-stick, and Rudd come hopping off that log
- in a hurry, now, I tell you. And all could see him then. He laid his hands
- on the tingly place and he let into that man hot and heavy, so fur’s
- language would take him. If Rudd’s tongue had been a horsewhip that man
- would have ridges all over him. But as it was they haw-hawed old Rudd
- off’n the premises. He could cast a mist, though, there ain’t no doubt
- about that! And there was lots of old sirs that could.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Babb retwisted his legs with a nervous snap as he concluded.
- </p>
- <p>
- The little group in the shade gazed on the solitary figure bathed in the
- beating August sunshine. For a moment he ceased to be in their eyes merely
- old “Hard-Times” Wharff. They stared at him with a bit of superstitious
- respect, as they always did when they remembered how the blood of old Rudd
- Goff was in him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You’ve got to own up that there are queer things in this world.” mumbled
- Amazeen.
- </p>
- <p>
- The old man on the platform revolved slightly on his single leg of
- support. He slowly swung his head from side to side, his eyes still on the
- horizon line.
- </p>
- <p>
- “They’ve lit five times and ris’ five times and circled five times and now
- lit again,” he cried.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who’s lit?” demanded Uncle Buck snappishly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Crows.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, what if they have? They know enough to get down out of the sun.
- Come in here, ’Quar’us, with us. I can hear what few brains you’ve
- got sizzlin’ like a pan o’ tomcod a-fryin’!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Over the hills! Crows a-flyin’ and crows a-watch-in’! Hard times comin’,
- that’s what I guess.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I s’pose there’s really a name for that—that—well, the sense
- for knowin’ that somethin’ is comin’ in the weather line or mebbe the line
- o’ trouble,” pursued Amazeen, puffing meditatively. It was a placid
- afternoon for quiet and contemplative discourse of this sort.
- </p>
- <p>
- Little breezes wavered along the shady side of Brickett’s store and
- stirred the grasses. Other breezes skylarked through the wide-open front
- doors of the store and came out at the side door near the old men. Inside
- the store the breezes did what the people of Palermo usually did when they
- visited Brickett’s emporium—they swapped commodities. The breezes
- brought their little treasures of pure, salty fragrance from the cove and
- took away queer little whiffs of spices that were stacked in wooden boxes,
- sickish-sweet scents from the tobacco “figs,” aroma of coffee and tea,
- flavourings from the candy show case and more pungent odours of kerosene
- and dried herring.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now a dog,” stated Amazeen, “don’t really have no common sense like human
- bein’s, but then a dog knows when any one’s goin’ to die in a
- neighbourhood, and don’t he git out front o’ the house and stick his nose
- straight up in the air and lally-hoo till some one kicks him gallywest?
- That’s a sense of knowin’ ahead o’ time, and he’s born with it—and
- that’s somethin’ how ’tis with ’Quar’us. Them as says he’s
- just loony ain’t watched him same’s I have.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The old man on the platform had shifted his legs again. The breeze
- fluttered his long hair and the sun was stealing the last of the original
- colour from his yellowed garments. The men in the shade were silent,
- partly from slumbrous laziness, partly because their slow minds were once
- again revolving one of their stock problems: What mysterious faculty of
- divination did “Hard-Times” Wharff possess?
- </p>
- <p>
- “There ain’t no disputin’ that he’s foretold full a dozen line gales that
- was comin’ to rip the stuffin’ out o’ things ’long the coast,” said
- Brickett. “That much we all know! Time the school-house was burned down he
- had it all predicted out—leastways, he told ’round that the
- critter with red tongue and crackling teeth and all out doors for a
- gizzard was comin’ towards our village—and that’s a fire, ain’t it?
- He’s seen shrouds in candles for fifty fam’lies in P’lermo, I’ll bet you,
- just come to count ’em up! There’s somethin’—somethin’—‘lectricity—or
- hypnotickism, or somethin’! These scientists will git it figured out some
- day!”
- </p>
- <p>
- They all pondered in silence, the hush of the sultry afternoon drowsily
- brooding. In the store shed a stub-tailed horse dozed uneasily between the
- thills of Dow Babb’s beach waggon, occasionally thudding his hoof in the
- soft soil, trying to dislodge the clustering flies. Somewhere in the maple
- tree the cicada whirred in long, shrill diminuendo.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I ain’t no sp’tu’list or nothin’ of that sort,” broke out Uncle Buck.
- “And I don’t b’lieve in no sech things like you’re talkin’ about, nor that
- any Wharff that ever lived was anything except cracked—like that old
- one-legged her’n out there,” he added, directing an eye of disfavour on
- Aquarius. “I tell you if they could cast mists in the old times, then why
- can’t they do it now, when everything is so much improved—-telefoams
- and telegraphts and ’lectric cars and all that? Any man that ever
- claimed to see a rooster haul off a log was a dum liar if he said so.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Dow Babb flipped his legs together indignantly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “’Tain’t any particular politeness to call my rel’tives names, is
- it?” he demanded. “Furdermore, uncle never said he see the rooster act’ly
- <i>haul</i> a log; he said it <i>looked</i> as if he had done it, ’cause
- the mist had been cast.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ain’t nothin’ in it no one way or t’other,” persisted Uncle Buck
- doggedly. “’Tain’t reasonable, ’tain’t Christian, and
- whatever ’tis it’s works of Satan, and I, as a church member, ain’t
- goin’ to stand by and let things like that be said without aye, yes or no
- to ’em!” He thudded his fist on his knee.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ll bet there is such things as magic and—aw—well, you can
- call it witchcraft,” cried Babb, rather hampered in argument by lack of
- terms. “Come now, I’ll bet you!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What do you propose to do—call up your Uncle Ben from Turtle Knoll
- graveyard or—or leave it out to old Wind-cutter, there?” queried
- Buck, sarcastically, with a hook of his thumb toward the Palermo human
- weather vane.
- </p>
- <p>
- Babb was clearly nonplussed for a moment, but his face suddenly lighted
- up. He untangled his legs, crawled out of his chair and cried:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ll leave it out to the man that P’lermo is always ready to leave out
- all questions to—and that’s Squire Phin Look, by thunder!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He shook his skinny finger at the dingy windows over Brickett’s store.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If he don’t know there ain’t nobody does,” observed Brickett, clicking
- his yellow teeth with decision.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why should he know? ’Tain’t law, nor nothin’ that goes with law,”
- persisted Buck.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You see if he don’t know,” retorted Babb. “It wa’n’t lo’din’ a jackass
- with books when Squire Look went through college. Now let’s go up and ask
- him, boys—what ye say?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, holler to him to come down here,” drawled Amazeen, loath to leave his
- seat. “There ain’t chairs enough in his office to go ’round amongst
- us—and I’ve been sick of the smell of law books ever since I lost my
- bound’ry line case.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Therefore Babb threw back his head and bawled huskily, “Squire Phin!
- Squire Phin Look!” From his mouth, as from the mouths of all Palermo, the
- title sounded like “Square.” At the second call they heard a chair’s legs
- pushed squeakingly on the floor and an answering bellow that was jovial
- though wordless. And those who had straightened up to listen lounged
- lazily down again to wait for him.
- </p>
- <p>
- A rickety outside stairway led up to the Squire’s office.
- </p>
- <p>
- On the old tin sign between the dusty front windows was:
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <h4>
- PHINEAS LOOK
- </h4>
- <h4>
- Attorney and Notary
- </h4>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- The purr of the coffee grinder in the store beneath was a frequent
- obbligato to the conferences between Squire Phin and his clients, and the
- savour of spice and odour of kerosene stole up through the floor cracks to
- mingle with the decidedly athletic fragrance of the Squire’s blackened T.
- D. pipe.
- </p>
- <p>
- Once he forgot one of those sooty-hued pipes and left it in the attorney’s
- room at county court, and the young lawyers got ribbons and hung it from a
- chandelier with a card reading, “Erected in Memory of Phin Look.” Squire
- Look patiently hunted for that pipe when he went to county court again,
- for its stoutness, after many months of careful seasoning, appealed to his
- taste. But he never looked as high as the chandelier.
- </p>
- <p>
- Folks who knew Squire Phin well declared that he had never looked high
- enough in life—not as high as his merits entitled. Men who
- understood such things said that he knew enough law to match any judge on
- the State bench, but in middle life he was still sitting up in his little
- office over Brickett’s store, smoking his pipe and reading his fat law
- books, with their shiny, hand-smooched bindings.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, boys!” he said, as he came out upon the landing above them and
- leaned over the rail. “What do you want to do—nominate me for
- Congress at a mass-meeting?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Without waiting for a reply he jammed a round-topped straw hat upon his
- thick hair and came down the stairs with solid tread. A fat and fuzzy old
- dog followed on his heels with tread comically similar. “I had two of ’em
- once,” he was wont to say, “Eli and Uli, but I gave away Uli to another
- lawyer and kept Eli.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “They say, Squire Look,” began Uncle Buck, as soon as the lawyer came
- within hearing, “that you can tell us whether old ‘Hard-Times’ there ought
- to be hitched up on town hall cupoly as a vane or sent to the insane ’sylum.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It ain’t fair to put it that way,” remonstrated Dow Babb, and he
- proceeded to state the point of contention.
- </p>
- <p>
- The two deep lines on either side of the Squire’s straight mouth curved
- away, and his round, smooth-shaven face beamed upon them humorously.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It isn’t the first time, gentlemen,” he said, “that the motives of a
- philanthropist have been misconstrued by the people to whom he has
- presented himself and his services.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What I contend,” broke in Dow Babb, “is that ’Quar’us has a sort
- of seventh sense to smell happening ahead. I don’t know what to call it,
- but it’s like what a dog has to make him go to howlin’ when some one’s
- goin’ to die.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, you ought to ask Eli about that,” suggested the Squire, his smile
- broader. “That seems to be right in his line,” and then, looking down into
- the humid eyes of the dog, he asked, “Eli, why do you howl when some one
- is going to die?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The canine, who was squatting on the grass, thumped his tail agitatedly
- and uttered a short “Wuff!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Can you talk dog well enough to understand?” asked the lawyer of Buck.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, Squire,” pleaded Babb whiningly, “you tell us straight. This ain’t
- foolin’. We ain’t been able to coax the old sir off’n that platform so fur
- this afternoon. He was like that on the days before the line storms and on
- them other times. He don’t act out a weather vane usually more’n a half
- hour on a stretch and then sets down and chaws tobacker with us like a
- human bein’!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You’ve asked me some pretty tough questions,” said the lawyer, dismissing
- his jocularity. He leaned the shiny shoulders of his threadbare frock coat
- against the clapboards, careless of the white smooches that were
- immediately transferred to the cloth. “Now, as to the casting of a mist by
- the old chaps we have heard of in this section, I’ll say that perhaps they
- had the same power as some of the Hindoos that travellers describe. Men
- whose words ought to be good assert that to all appearances some of those
- fellows throw the end of a rope into the air and climb up and up, and so
- out of sight.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Buck pronged a mighty chew of tobacco out of the side of his jaw
- with his tongue and tossed it afar into the milkweed stalks that grew
- beside the horse shed. He snorted his unbelief.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You might just as soon tell me,” he declared, “as how that quid o’ mine
- could turn into a royal Bengal tiger and come roarin’ back here to chaw me
- up.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wisht a plug o’ tobacker would chase you once,” declared Amazeen.
- “P’raps you wouldn’t be borrowin’ so much of it all the time if you got
- one good scare.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Squire Phin was evidently about to explain to his fellow townsmen more
- explicitly regarding the mysteries of the East, as related by veracious
- investigators, when he was interrupted by the cause of all the argument.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hard-Times” Wharff suddenly came down upon both feet, put his hand to his
- brow, peered up the highway where it snaked into the distant spruce
- growth, and cried in a very human tone of rural astonishment:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, dod-butter doughnuts, holes and all, ’tain’t no wonder the
- crows kept a-flyin’! Hard times is a-comin’ to town a-ridin’ on a pony.
- Come here and see ’em!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Led by Babb, striding on legs that worked like calipers, the old men
- flocked around the corner of the store into the sunshine, each uttering
- his own characteristic note of astonishment as he swung into view of the
- road.
- </p>
- <p>
- Squire Phin leisurely followed. But the spectacle in the highway was
- sufficient to make him stare at the approaching procession with surprise
- that almost equalled the emotion of his more naïve townsmen.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER II—“HIME” LOOK’S HOMECOMING WITH AN ELEPHANT
- </h2>
- <h3>
- AND TROUBLE AND A FEW OTHER THINGS
- </h3>
- <p class="indent20">
- “Go ask your mother for fifteen cents
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- To see the elephant jump the fence,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- He jumps so high that he’ll hit the sky,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- And he won’t come down till the Fourth of July.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> GRIMY, wrinkled
- and slouchy elephant, pudging ahead and straining at his rusty harness,
- followed by eight horses plodding two and two, was drawing a train of
- vehicles whose outlines were almost hidden by the dust cloud rolling up
- from under the scuffing hoofs. Through puffs of dust, glass surfaces
- sparkled dully, and there was an occasional glint of gilt. The leading
- waggon could be more plainly seen.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s a reg’lar circus cart,” said Brickett, wonderingly.
- </p>
- <p>
- They all perceived that the shape of the waggon’s body was the simulacrum
- of a large caravel whose bow and stern rose high in the air.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a gilded, life-size female figure at the bow and a companion
- figure at the stern. The only man in sight was perched on a high seat let
- into the fore part of the waggon, the converging lines of the bow meeting
- just above his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But there ain’t been no circus advertised ’round here,” cried
- Uncle Lysimachus Buck, as he stared.
- </p>
- <p>
- The strange train of vehicles swung wide at the head of the cove to cross
- the creek bridge.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There’s six of ’em,” commented Amazeen, as the waggons presented
- their broadsides, “and it’s a circus, dummed if ’tain’t.”
- </p>
- <p>
- One waggon was fastened behind another. Three vans with huge mirrors in
- the sides were following the big boat-waggon in the lead; the fifth
- vehicle had a circular body scalloped like a sea shell, and a painted
- figure held a canopy over it; sixth and last trundled a little red cart of
- the kind made familiar by circus chariot races.
- </p>
- <p>
- The driver of this strange outfit guided his dripping horses and the huge
- piloter across the bridge. He cracked a big whip over them, and they came
- up the short rise toward Brickett’s store, gallantly surging to the work,
- the faded bridle pompons nodding above the horses’ heads, the dust
- swirling behind. The elephant shuffled briskly, ragged ears flapping and
- trunk swaying.
- </p>
- <p>
- The breeze on top of the hill volleyed the dust back on the procession,
- and when the driver pulled up in the little square with a mighty bellow of
- “Whoa!” he and his outfit were almost invisible. As the white cloud
- settled away and revealed the waggons the little group on Brickett’s
- platform stared open-mouthed at every feature. The gilding was dingy, the
- paint blistered and cracked, the mirrors streaked and grimy, but the
- elephant and the chariots and the circus glamour were all there.
- </p>
- <p>
- The man who sat on the high seat wore a dusty tall hat, cocked back so far
- as to almost rest on his neck. A linen duster was buttoned closely under
- his gray whiskers—prolongations of his bristling moustache—descending
- in two trailing streams and framing a smoothly shaved chin. This elderly
- stranger set his elbows on his knees, the reins hanging loosely, leaned
- forward and leisurely surveyed the group on the platform. One eye was set
- and immovable—a glass eye. The other roved and twinkled and shuttled
- and blinked in lively style.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let’s see,” he began, a keen glint in his movable eye, “isn’t there a
- cheap lawyer in this place named Phineas Look?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The movable eye fell upon Squire Phin. It glittered for an instant more
- brightly. The muscles of the hard face seemed to twitch a little. But he
- said no more, and with a curious intentness awaited a reply.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire had started at the sound of the stranger’s voice. Then he
- shoved his hands deep into his trousers pockets and stared hard at the
- man, his brows knotting slowly, as though he were endeavouring to recall
- something.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t know who you be, nor where you come from, nor I don’t care,”
- snapped Amazeen; “but I want to say to you, mister, that you’d better call
- the leadin’ man in P’lermo by a different name, ’specially when
- he’s standin’ here in hearin’!” He shook an indignant cane at the man and
- swung and pointed it at Phineas.
- </p>
- <p>
- At this instant a raucous voice squalled a long, loud “Yah-h-h!” A cage
- was hung to one of the figures of the big waggon, whose seats showed a
- former use as a band chariot. A ragged, gray parrot was in the cage. He
- clutched a bar in his warty claws, rapped his bill violently and yelled:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Crack ’em down, gents! It’s the old army game!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire took a quick step forward, halted and stared again.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Twenty can play as well as one!” the parrot squawked. The stranger began
- to clamber down from the seat and stood revealed as a tall man when he
- stood upright. The knots smoothed out of the Squire’s brow.
- </p>
- <p>
- The two men walked slowly toward one another, each with hand outstretched,
- and they met half way. Hand clutched hand in a grip that made the cords
- ridge the skin. They gazed for a long time with moistening eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hime!” choked out the Squire.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You poor little cuss, Phin,” the other gulped, as he reached his arm over
- the Squire’s shoulder and patted his back.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was rough affection in the gesture, but there was constraint in the
- stranger’s mien. He displayed the nervous bravado of one who is ashamed
- and feels that the shame is a weakness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I ain’t come home expectin’ that you’re goin’ to treat me anyways like a
- brother, Phin,” he muttered brokenly. “I ain’t ever been any good to the
- family. I——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t say that, brother Hiram! Don’t!” pleaded the Squire.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But it’s the God’s truth, Phin. I don’t even know whether father’s—whether
- he’s——” He stood back and raised entreating eyes to his
- brother’s face. “You needn’t say it, Phin, boy,” he went on mournfully.
- “All I can do is thank God that father had one boy that he didn’t have to
- be ashamed of. I don’t ask you to overlook it—any of it, Phin. I
- don’t expect you to do it. I ain’t come back for it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The old men had been slowly straggling down from the platform, still
- busied with their survey of this amazing new arrival.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire glanced around at them and spoke guardedly. His tone was gently
- reproachful.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not a word from you or of you for twenty-five years! Hime, I never
- understood that. Father didn’t understand it!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Understand it!” shouted his brother, careless of the throng. “Understand
- it! Of course you can’t. No man with decency in his soul and honesty in
- his heart could understand it. I tell ye, Phin, I ain’t worth your while
- to talk to, I had a little hopes of myself, Phin, a few weeks ago. It came
- over me all of a sudden. I’ve come back to square one end of it.” He
- glared at the men who were crowding around them. “But our family end,
- Phin, can never be squared. I’ve travelled five hundred miles in the sun
- and dust to pay my honest debts. That much I can do. Then for the road
- again.” He tossed a pathetic gesture at the elephant and the vans. “I did
- think of sellin’ ’em along with the rest I sold,” he added
- wistfully. “I had thought perhaps—I didn’t know, but—well,
- Phin, it’s better to go on, that’s all.” Here and there from gardens, from
- little shops and from the houses near by, men were issuing; the cobbler
- with his canvas apron tucked up, the blacksmith spatting his smutty hands
- together, and the men who had forgotten to lay down their hoes. All were
- shouting questions to each other and pointing at the procession that had
- come to town.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire eyed the approach of these spectators with some uneasiness, but
- the glance he turned on his brother was full of kindly emotion. He went
- along and patted Hiram on his broad back.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There’ll be plenty of time for us to talk it all over, Hime,” he
- murmured. “I know I shall understand. Let’s go home. I’m still in the old
- house.” Then with the New England ability to repress emotion he stood back
- and ran his eye over his brother.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, you certainly aren’t ‘Bean-Pole Look’ any longer,” he cried in his
- usual cheery tones, loud enough for all to hear.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you’ve stocked up yourself, Phin,” returned his brother, with a
- rather watery smile. “The Looks usually get pussy after forty.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Buck was the first of the crowd to stick out his hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’d know you anywhere for Hime Look, in spite of your plug hat and your
- weepin’ wilier whiskers,” he cried brusquely. “You ain’t been what you’d
- exactly call neighbourly last twenty or twenty-five years,” he suggested,
- with a meaning cock of his eyebrow.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I didn’t ask permission of the Palermo Tobacker Chawin’ League to go
- away, and I ain’t asking its permission to come back!” retorted Hiram,
- bridling.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Still got your meat-axe temper along, I notice,” said Buck, drily.
- </p>
- <p>
- “See here,” shouted the new arrival, “we won’t start into any of those old
- rows, good people.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He assumed the tone of the showman “barking” at the door of a tent, as
- though the habit of long years obsessed him. Apparently he could not talk
- to several persons in any other tone. The throng crowding about him
- suggested all his usual environment. “Best to have our general wind-up at
- the start-off,” he declared, running his eye over them; “we’ll drive every
- tent peg right now. Here I am home again from the wide, wide world, and
- it’s no one’s business except mine why I’ve come. I own this gear,” a
- flourish of his hand toward the waggons and the reeking horses, “and why
- I’ve brought ’em here is my own business, too. Ask me no questions
- and I’ll tell you no lies. You needn’t blink and scowl at me—any of
- you. I ain’t proud of the way I left this town, but I want to have an
- understanding here and now. It’s this: The man who proposes to remind me
- of my going away or my staying away will get what I gave Klebe Willard,
- and I hope it wasn’t too long ago for you to remember it, one and all.” He
- clenched his fist and shook it at them. “Yes, I’m just the same old Hime
- Look, rough and bluff and gruff and tough! No one likes me, and probably
- no one ever will, and I don’t care! But I can pay my bills.” He rapped
- this at them, adding an oath like a whipcrack.
- </p>
- <p>
- A murmur that was almost a growl ran among his listeners, who now numbered
- a score. “Yes, I did slide out and leave my debts, and I held this town up
- good and hard, hey? Well, I ain’t crawling back on my hands and knees to
- you, good people; I’ve come with the goods.” He ripped open his duster
- and, twisting his tall form and screwing his mouth as he tussled at the
- job, he pulled a big wallet from under his coat tails—a wallet so
- fat, so puffy, so rotund that it seemed fairly to groan at its strap and
- puff with plethora.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire gently seized his brother by the arm, endeavouring to say
- something to him in an undertone. But that over-wrought person wrenched
- away and shouted, as he waved his wallet above his head: “No, Phin, it
- aint no use to hush-baby me. I’ve got to say it to ’em. I’ve been
- thinking of it too long. It’s boilin’ in me. I always was too mouthy—I’m
- too mouthy now, and I know it, but I can’t help it. I’m just Hime Look,
- and I have to talk or bust. They’ve had their chance to lambaste me for
- twenty-five years behind my back. Now I’m going to talk to their faces.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Excitedly he tore open the wallet. Packets of bills stuffed every
- compartment—packets tied with bands and squeezed flat.
- </p>
- <p>
- With his wallet clutched in one hand and as many of the packets as he
- could grip with the other, he went around the little circle of bystanders,
- flapping the ends of the bills under their dodging noses.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Smell of it!” he roared. “Don’t it smell good? Look at it! Don’t it look
- good? If you could eat it, ’twould taste good, you old droolers!
- Did you ever see so much money before in Palermo? No, you never did. Now,
- all you that have a claim against me of any kind, meet me at my brother’s
- office any time after to-day, with your interest figured compound at six
- per cent. No; reckon it better’n that—and even then I’ll give you a
- bonus on top. You’ll never be able to sneer again behind Hime Look’s back,
- you of Palermo. Bring your claims, good people!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s the old army game, gents!” screamed the gray parrot.
- </p>
- <p>
- Again the Squire tried anxiously to lead his brother away out of the
- circle. Perspiration dripped from under the showman’s tall hat. His sound
- eye blazed.
- </p>
- <p>
- The other goggled fiercely. It was the anger of a man who was raging as
- much at himself and at the memory of mistakes and faults as at his
- auditors, the anger of a man who knew in his own heart that he was not as
- worthy as these yokels whom he had left behind him in the old home. He
- wanted to storm down the criticism and the blame that he feared—to
- scare them into silence. Under it all was shame—the shame of a
- domineering man who is ashamed to feel shame.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hime,” pleaded his brother, “let’s not talk this over in public any
- longer. The people of Palermo are all good friends of ours. They haven’t
- been talking about you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, they haven’t talked about you—that’s right,” shrilled Uncle
- Buck, who had advanced closely. “No, they’ve thought you was dead—and
- dead men of your calibre ain’t worth much talkin’ about.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram whirled away from his brother’s restraint and glowered at the
- doughty old man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I ain’t one mite afraid of you, Hime,” barked Lysimachus, thumping down
- his cane. “This is the same stick I’ve put across you when I ketched you
- stealin’ my apples, and if you tackle me I’ll slash you again, though you
- was grown taller’n Haman.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He came close to the furious man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You might’s well shet up your wallet,” he said; “P’lermo ain’t sufferin’
- for your money, much of it as you seem to have.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That money won’t be put up till my debts are paid,” shouted Hiram. The
- old man’s fishy eye bored him with a significance he could not understand.
- It was evident that Lysimachus had a trump card.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You can’t pay, dum ye!” shrieked Uncle Buck, now furious in his turn,
- with the hysterical rage of the senile.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why can’t I?” This also was bawled.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Because your old father mortgaged his farm after you run away, and then
- after he died your brother Phin worked and paid off every cent that was
- owed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Twenty can play as well as one!” said the gray parrot.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram, both hands still full of money, rubbed his forearm across his eyes,
- into which sweat was streaming. His movement knocked off his hat, and it
- rolled unheeded in the dust. Pitiful bewilderment wrinkled his face.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And if you’ve never heard of all that, then you can’t have been any
- decenter about writin’ home and lettin’ your own know about you than you
- have been about other things I could name.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram stood, his arms hanging at his side, his lower jaw drooping, his eye
- shuttling from face to face evasively.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Kind o’ makes you drop your tail, Hime—that, eh?” jeered Amazeen
- from his place in the crowd.
- </p>
- <p>
- As Hiram still drooped there, Uncle Buck ran his cane into the fallen hat,
- lifted it with a deft toss, ran his elbow around its nap, and set it on
- Hiram’s head, standing on tip-toe to do it.
- </p>
- <p>
- The man never moved or blinked.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There’s your plug hat, Hime,” he said. “It fell off, and pride goeth
- before a fall.”
- </p>
- <p>
- At the anti-climax the crowd haw-hawed with the jovial unrestraint of
- rural jokers.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire’s face was very grave. He came along, gently took the wallet
- and the money from his brother’s hands, tucked the packets away,
- restrapped the wallet and stuffed it back into the hip pocket. Hiram still
- remained motionless, except for the blinking eye that now looked straight
- at the ground.
- </p>
- <p>
- Phineas turned to his townsmen:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Folks,” he said, “I don’t think my brother Hime meant all he said. He was
- excited and wrought up by coming home, and it was a hard place to put any
- man in, to meet the old townsmen again as he has had to do. But you see he
- has come back bringing the money to pay, and I know you are going to give
- him the credit of his good intentions. We will talk it over some time
- later, friends. Now I want you to come along home with me, Hime.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He pushed his brother along toward the big waggon.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you done what old Lys says you done?” asked the elder brother
- suddenly. There was a queer indrawing of the breath after the query. The
- Squire did not reply.
- </p>
- <p>
- “God, I ain’t fit for phosphate!” blurted the showman despairingly. “Shame
- and pride and my dirty disposition—and not writin’—nor
- nothin,’ thinkin’ you had soured on me—and lettin’ you and dad—oh,
- Phin, you poor little cuss!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Down over the hard face that had cynically fronted the world for twenty
- years from the barker’s rostrum, into the trailing whiskers filtered the
- tears. This middle-aged, solid, lawyer brother had not as yet assumed his
- proper perspective in the mind of his elder brother, who had left him a
- stripling. Hiram did not try to hide his grief from those who stared at
- him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ain’t I a specimen!” he whimpered.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think you are beginnin’ to improve <i>some</i>,” said Uncle Buck,
- bluntly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your wife won’t want to see me,” moaned Hiram. “I ain’t fit to meet her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The crowd laughed anew, for this seemed the best joke of all. The lawyer
- smiled, but it was a wistful smile.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’m the pickedest old bach in town, so set that I even do my own cooking,
- Hime,” he said. “It is all about the same as it used to be at the old
- place. There’s plenty of room in the barn for all this,” he nodded toward
- the waggons, “and plenty to eat for us all—I guess,” he added, with
- a facetious look at the elephant, and that started the laugh again.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram turned to the crowd as though to address them, but he clutched at
- his throat, shook his head pathetically, and stumbled toward the big
- waggon.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You ain’t the worst feller in the world, Hime,” called a voice
- encouragingly. ’Twas Marriner Amazeen’s. “But you can’t sass us
- here in P’lermo any more’n you useter could.”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a general mumble, in a more hospitable tone, for the prodigal’s
- evident contrition had touched them. He threw up his hand and again shook
- his head despondently.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s a blamed queer outfit to haul into any man’s door-yard, Phin,” he
- said at last, with wistful apology, as he noticed his brother looking at
- the elephant with no very eager enthusiasm; “but I’ll fix it right with
- you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He did not remount his seat, but secured a hook from under the big waggon,
- walked to the elephant and stuck the hook into a slit in the beast’s
- ragged ear. With a creak and a groan the parade started, the weary horses
- dragging at the heels of the scuffing pachyderm. Chattering boys spatted
- along barefoot in the dusty road before, beside, behind; the villagers
- attended along the sidewalk, and women stood at front gates holding up the
- little ones to see.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire plodded at his brother’s side, his hands behind his back, and
- Eli waddled near with cautious eye bent on the huge animal.
- </p>
- <p>
- And thus, after twenty-five years of wandering, returned Palermo’s queer
- genius, hot-headed Hiram Look, a showman from the time he took pins for
- admission from his schoolfellows at the door of a tent made of shorts’
- sacks, and that was when he wore dresses and had his flaxen hair combed in
- a “Boston.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A little way beyond Brickett’s store the elms grew close and tall,
- stretching their graceful arms across the street. Back from these elms on
- a gentle slope of lawn stood the Judge Collamore Willard house, the
- mansion of the village, a square structure of brick, dyed by many years of
- weather to a sombre red.
- </p>
- <p>
- The inmates of this dignified house evidently had been affected by the
- general excitement caused by the halt of the caravan in front of
- Brickett’s store.
- </p>
- <p>
- A tall, gaunt old man, whose frock coat flapped about his skinny legs,
- hurried down the gravelled path to the street, and as the head of the
- parade approached he opened the iron gate and came out to the side of the
- highway.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What’s all this?” he piped in falsetto, addressing one of the villagers
- who were marching along the sidewalk.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hime Look’s come back and brought his circus,” said the passer. The old
- man started, and his thin lips closed viciously.
- </p>
- <p>
- As the showman’s eyes fell upon the old man his face also grew set and
- hard.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ain’t old Coll Willard gone to be a moneychanger in hell yet?” he
- snarled.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire was looking toward the house and did not answer. A woman stood
- on the front porch, gazing under her palm. Even from the road the grace of
- her figure showed itself. The soft, light material that drooped away from
- her upraised arm left its rounded contour and whiteness outlined against
- the dark hair.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hiram Look!” echoed the old man, and he came straight into the middle of
- the road and stood there, trying to hold himself erect, propping his hand
- on his back at the waist. He made no move to step aside, and the showman
- was forced to halt his animals.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And so it’s Hiram Look come home again?” he rasped, his thin nostrils
- fluttering. “And how is it he comes parading, instead of sneaking over the
- back fences as he ought?” He was talking over the showman’s head to the
- villagers.
- </p>
- <p>
- The spirit of assertion seemed to have dropped from Hiram. He shook so
- violently that he set his hand against the elephant to steady himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Judge!” The Squire advanced close to the old man and spoke low. “My
- brother is considerably unstrung by things that have just happened. Don’t
- say anything to him now, please don’t! If something must be said later
- about the old times there’ll be plenty of chance to say it. Wait!” His
- tone was mild and entreating, but Willard still disdained to glance at
- him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If some one hasn’t told Hiram Look what Palermo thinks of him, it’s time
- for it to be done, townsmen!” shrieked Willard, his face white, his lips
- drawn back over some obtrusive false teeth.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire turned toward the distant figure on the porch, appeal and
- apology in his eyes, though he realised that she could not witness his
- emotions.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Better for you to have stayed with the husks and the swine, Hiram Look.
- You thought you left him for dead, my boy Kleber. Don’t you tell me! You
- wanted to kill him. My poor boy! To leave me in my old age without my son!
- And the scar of it on his face to-day! There’s a law for you yet, Hiram
- Look—a law to make you suffer for that scar. A pretty pair—yes,
- a pretty pair! Old Seth Look’s pair of steers! And Hiram would have robbed
- my boy of a wife, and Phin Look thought he could steal my daughter. Now,
- I’ll tell you both——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, you won’t tell us—not here in the face and eyes of every one in
- Palermo!” roared Hiram. “I’m ready for your tongue and your law at fittin’
- time and place, Coll Willard, but this ain’t the time. I told your son
- twenty-five years ago that there was such a thing as talking too damn much—and
- he still talked. Don’t you do it to-day.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you want to put your mark on the father’s face?” the old man shrieked,
- hobbling close and poking forward his weasened visage. “Strike me! Kill
- me! It’s your style, Hiram Look. And it’s your brother’s style to lallygag
- after a girl that wouldn’t use him for a doormat. The two of you are——”
- </p>
- <p>
- The showman could restrain himself no longer. He had stood with feet apart
- as though to root himself in the ground. His hands were hooked behind him.
- </p>
- <p>
- He hadn’t lost the whole of that Palermo instinct of deference toward the
- village plutocrat and autocrat who had dominated them all for so many
- years, even as other Willards had ruled before him. But the choler that
- drove him forward was the rage of a man who had never learned
- self-control. His brother leaped to prevent him, but he seized the old
- man, whipped him off the ground, rushed across the sidewalk and tossed him
- over the iron fence upon his own lawn, where he lay squawking feebly like
- a frightened fowl.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire followed, gasping appealing protest, and he stood there
- clutching the rusty points of the fence when the woman came hastening from
- the porch.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t think the Judge is’ hurt a bit, Sylvena,” he faltered. “But he
- provoked Hime’s awful temper, and I couldn’t stop it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Judge Willard had scrambled to his feet, snarling at her when she came to
- aid him. His rage was now the hysteria of the aged, but after gasping
- wordlessly he turned and went toward the house. Hiram, his head bowed as
- though he were ashamed of his burst of rage, had started his caravan, and
- the crowd followed. Squire Phin remained.
- </p>
- <p>
- The woman across the fence was mature, yet she had that appearance of
- freshness that spinsterhood under forty years preserves in the little
- details. Her face had been flushed by her haste, and the colour crept up
- to the dark hair, that had just a touch of frost at the temples.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And it is your brother come home, Phineas?” she asked, gazing after the
- picturesque spectacle.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is Hiram.” His tone was wistful.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He seems to be fully as—as muscular as ever,” she said, with a
- little flash of her eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- As he seemed searching his mind for suitable apology, she said hastily:
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I also know what father is, Phineas. I can understand. It is nothing
- that you have done. But it all seems to be beginning over again, and I
- hoped it was ended.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I guess it’s like the fire in old Ward’s peat bog,” he replied, a wrinkle
- of humour about his eyes. “It has been burning for twenty years
- underground and breaks out every little while. I can sympathise with
- Ward’s peat bog,” he added. “Every now and then, when I think it’s cold
- and dead and stamped out—my own particular smoulder, you know—there’s
- a breath of remembrance, when I see you, and I’m all afire again inside.
- Hard case, isn’t it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- He didn’t allow his tone to be too serious.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It isn’t well to speak of such things, Phineas. And not in that way!
- Somehow, it hasn’t come right for you and me. We mustn’t blame each other.
- It hasn’t seemed to be our fault.” She cast a glance at the waggons
- toiling up the street. He gazed at the old man, who had paused half way
- across the lawn and was querulously shouting “Daughter!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire leaned a bit further over the fence.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I guess it has been ten years, Sylvena,” he said, “since I’ve let you see
- my fire break through the crust. I didn’t intend to let it show again, for
- I know your heart is tender. I don’t blame you for feeling that a daughter
- owes much to a widowed father. I’d be the last to break up a family. I
- haven’t any right to blame you. Don’t worry about me, ever. But I can’t
- seem to forget, and while I keep on loving you I am having an awfully good
- time all by myself doing so.”
- </p>
- <p>
- With frank impulsiveness the woman came close to the fence and patted his
- big hand that clutched the iron paling. But this frankness in her action,
- her demeanour, and in the free and honest gaze she gave him, did not
- console him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Still you’re ‘Sleeping Beauty,’ Sylvena,” he said, half whimsically, half
- bitterly.
- </p>
- <p>
- The old man had returned part way down the broad lawn, and was yelping
- “Daughter!” in his thin voice with increasing impatience.
- </p>
- <p>
- She smiled at the Squire as though the jest of his last words were one
- well understood between them.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, only an old maid, Phineas,” she replied, softly. “Sometimes I think
- that old maids are like poets—born, not made.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But you’ve let ’em make <i>you</i> one,” he retorted. “It isn’t
- often I speak of it, Sylvena. You know that. It has been enough for me to
- walk the same streets with you and have a smile and a word of friendliness—-it’s
- enough most of the time. But my heart has been stirred to-day, and all the
- old feelings are on top. You have let that stingy old man——”
- he shook his fist at the Judge, who returned this salute with great
- spirit, “rob you of the best that a woman ought to have—and that’s a
- home and a good husband. Oh, I am not speaking of myself!” he cried, his
- colour coming and a sort of boyish embarrassment overwhelming him. “I
- don’t know how to say such things very well, but I didn’t mean myself. I
- never could wake ‘Sleeping Beauty.’ But if the prince himself had come
- along your father would have driven him away so that he could continue to
- monopolise your loyalty and devotion. The only reason he wants you to
- marry King Bradish is because he knows that Bradish will sit outside like
- a pup and wait until he opens the door.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire was thoroughly angry. The spectacle of the old man hobbling
- down the lawn and calling at them as though they were offending children
- exasperated him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Forgive me, Sylvena,” he choked, breaking in upon her pained and somewhat
- indignant protest. “But, being a Look, I am pretty much human. You can’t
- stop me from loving you. God knows I can’t stop myself. I’d like to be
- able to put out my hand and say to you ‘Sister!’ and look at you as you
- look at me, but I can’t do it!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “From the time I was fifteen years old, Phineas,” she said wistfully, “I
- was mother to my mother!” A picture of the frail paralytic in her wheel
- chair rose before him. “I took her place in our home when she died—yes,
- before she died. It is a sacred promise that a girl makes to a mother,
- Phineas, when that mother, helpless as an infant, trusts her, believes her
- and goes smiling down into the grave, securely depending on that promise.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Judge was close upon them.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I didn’t hardly expect you to marry me, Sylvena,” said the Squire, gazing
- gloomily at the old man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ve never dared to think much about marrying any one,” she said, her
- eyes straying to the caravan in its halo of dust. “Somehow, it hasn’t
- seemed to come right.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Some day there’ll be a man come along and you’ll know what it means to be
- willing to give up every other thing in this world and not be able to
- think about letting any one else step between you, and as it will have to
- be a mighty good man to make you feel that way, I’ll step up then and give
- you the best word I have, Sylvena, and perhaps I can begin to feel like a
- brother toward you. I’m generous enough to pray God that you may feel that
- way sometime.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No wonder you’re trying to beg off your brother, Phineas Look,” shrilled
- the Judge, interposing himself between them. He had caught a word of the
- Squire’s speech as he came up. “But you can’t do it! The law is going to
- take him. I’ll see that it does.” He whirled on his daughter. “Why do you
- stand here talking with this man when you know what he and his tribe are
- and how they have always treated us?”
- </p>
- <p>
- She had taken his arm and was trying to lead him away, aware of the
- futility of argument or even reply.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You can’t come around this family, Phin Look,” stormed the Judge, “by
- wheedling a girl who hasn’t had self-respect enough to spit on——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Judge Willard!” The voice of the Squire was so tense, so pregnant, that
- the old man stopped and looked at him. The lawyer was clutching a paling
- in each hand. He had projected his face over the fence. He was grayish
- white, and his eyes glowed under their knotted brows. “Don’t you discuss
- the honest and faithful friendship there is between your daughter and
- myself. Do you understand me?” The old man looked at him, “plipping” his
- lips as though searching for a reply.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have hogged the best out of her life. You have stood between her and
- some man’s honest affection. I want you to know that I hate every ounce of
- your stingy old skin and bones. I——” but he checked himself
- and turned to the daughter with an appealing smile breaking through the
- white rigidity of his countenance. “Oh! Oh! Oh!” he murmured, with a wag
- of his head for each exclamation. “What a savage old whelp it is that’s
- barking over your fence, Sylvena. Forgive me again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He turned hastily and went up the street, following the caravan. Old Eli,
- who had been patiently waiting on the sidewalk’s edge, fell in at his
- master’s heels.
- </p>
- <p>
- And before him was Hiram guiding the grotesque elephant between the great
- silver poplars before Squire Phin’s lonely home.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER III—FROM THE MOUTH OF MARRINER AMAZEEN
- </h2>
- <p class="indent20">
- “Narrer to the heel and wide to the toe,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- And that’s the way the Look boys go.
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Good boy Phin, he don’t raise time,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- But pepper-sass’s hot and hell’s in Hime.”
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- —Old Palermo “Plaguin’ Song.‘’
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hen Marriner
- Amazeen plodded down street early next morning, he found Uncle Lysimachus
- Buck perched in solitary and surly state on the platform of Brickett’s
- store. A thick-foliaged maple tree shielded the platform as long as the
- sun was low in the east, and the platform was a desirable post of
- observation, since it commanded the Cove and the fishing fleet, as well as
- the village square.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You’ve been el’phunteerin’, hey, along with the rest of the fools in the
- place?” sneered Uncle Buck as Amazeen grunted down beside him on the
- platform.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, I called in to see how Hime had got settled, if that’s what your
- slur means,” retorted Amazeen with some resentment.
- </p>
- <p>
- Silence fell upon them for a time.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where’s he put old Cabbage-leaf-ear?” asked Uncle Lysimachus at last.
- </p>
- <p>
- “None of your dum bus’ness. Go see!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The silence endured longer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I didn’t mean nothin’ to rasp your feelin’s, ‘Mad’!” his old friend
- apologised at last. “All is, I pus’nally don’t want to go peekin’ so like
- sin and Sancho, same’s the people in this place us’ly do when anything
- comes to town that ain’t cut and dried. I’d really like to know, though,
- how things is gittin’ squared ’round up to the Squire’s.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Amazeen remained sullenly silent, but his desire to gossip conquered his
- spleen at last.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Wals’r, Lys, it’s wuth your goin’ up,” he broke out with a chuckle. “That
- el’phunt’s loomin’ up in the middle of the barn floor with her hind leg
- hitched to a sill beam; them chariot carts is in the yard, the hosses
- fillin’ the stalls and the tie-up, folks standin’ ’round askin’
- questions, and every durn young one in town rampagin’ ’round there!
- I should think it would drive the Squire out of his mind—him that
- has allus lived old bach and nothin’ to bother. It has set that old mare
- of his into spasms. He had to hitch her off in the woodshed, and there she
- stands with her head and tail up and snortin’ and whickerin’ ev’ry time
- she thinks of how that el’phunt looked when they was introduced.
- El’phunt’s name, by the way, is Imogene! Don’t that beat you? Imogene! So
- Hime said this mornin’. Told us she was a real pet, and he brought her
- along ’cause she would take on so if he tried to shake her. He’s
- had her clos’ on fifteen years, he says. Sold her when he bust up his
- show, but she swatted ’round her with her trunk, Hime says, and
- stove down bars and bellered Hail Columby and pulled up stakes and got
- away and follered him. Hime says Imogene is the only one in the world that
- ever has given a continental cuss for him and stuck to him, and he says
- that him and her will allus stick to one another after this. Says he’s
- li’ble to start out circussin’ ag’in.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I s’pose the whole neighbourhood’s standin’ ‘round, listenin’ to them
- yarns, heh?” grumbled Uncle Buck.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, it’s all interestin’ to hear,” declared Ama-zeen sturdily. “And he
- ain’t nobody’s fool, Hime ain’t.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It looks to me,” Uncle Lys growled on, “as though Squire Phin had got
- more’n one el’phunt on his hands. Here’s Hime a-traipsin’ back home with
- that gor-rammed turn-out, and before he’s been here no time he sasses the
- whole town of Palermo, throws Judge Willard over his own fence and tears
- ’round gen’rally. Here’s the old row between the fam’lies busted
- out ag’in, and prob’ly more to happen when Klebe Willard gits home and
- hears of it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t you reckon that Klebe has got fully as many of Hime Look’s marks on
- him now as he wants to carry?” inquired Amazeen, drily.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Klebe Willard, cap’n of the ‘Lycurgus Webb,’ turned forty-five, and
- muscled up from knockin’ down P. I. sailors, ain’t exactly the same feller
- he was when Hime Look scolloped him off twenty-five years ago,” Amazeen
- retorted. “I tell you, Lys, you’re going to find out that old ‘Hard-Times’
- wasn’t snuffin’ at no pansy bed when he stood there yesterday with his
- nose up. He was smellin’ trouble.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Brickett had lounged out of the store and stood munching a sliver of
- cheese that he had scraped from the broad knife after serving a customer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That old fool is gittin’ to be a town nuisance,” he observed. “When I
- came down this mornin’ he was standin’ across from Judge Willard’s house
- like a setter dog opposite a fox hole, croakin’ ‘Hard times a-comin’ to
- P’lermo.’ I don’t reckon that hard times is goin’ to start from Coll
- Willard’s place. Leastways, if I was as well fixed as the old Judge is I
- shouldn’t be reckonin’ to see hard times roostin’ on my primises just yit
- awhile.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You ain’t alius lived in P’lermo same’s me and Lys has, Brickett,” said
- Amazeen. “I don’t know what kind of things is goin’ to happen or what kind
- of a hard-times bird has come to nest on Coll Willard’s place, but it
- don’t take no seventh sense to smell trouble in this town now. Hime Look
- will make it without meanin’ to. He ain’t nat’rally a bad man, Hime ain’t.
- It’s his cussed tongue and the freaks he takes. Ev’ry one ’round
- him keeps gittin’ all stirred up. Long ago’s he went to the district
- school he had all the girls in fidgits about the snakes and frogs he
- lugged in his pants pockets—wa’n’t happy without a menagerie.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Run away with circuses three times and old man Look had to chase him up
- and bring him home. Started off once with a shelter-tent and a angle worm
- in a mustard bottle and followed the fairs ’round in counties above
- here. Wa’n’t scarcely eighteen then, but he had more cheek than a Guinea
- nigger. Folks would listen to him shoutin’ up that ‘infant anaconda’—-that’s
- what he called the angle-worm—and would pay ten cents and go in and
- then would come out mad as they could stick. Most of the time he was able
- to keep hollerin’ so loud that no one could hear them complainin’. He’d
- say: ‘The gentleman who has jest come out of the tent states that under
- this canvas is the grandest sight that the civilised world has got to
- offer. He advises his friends to pass in, one and all, and behold the only
- infant anaconda in captivity.’ It certainly did take cheek to run that
- show, but he had it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Amazeen went fishing in his pockets for a match.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, he couldn’t always holler ’em down, could he?” inquired
- Brickett, skeptically. “I should have thought that some one would ’a’
- showed him up.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The old man chuckled.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, once in a while a man would git heard and then Hime would bend down
- and ask:
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘What’s the matter with you?’
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Why, he ain’t longer’n your finger,’ the man would yap back.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Oh, he ain’t big enough? That’s it!’ Hime would say. ‘Well, go right
- back in and wait till he grows. ‘There won’t be any extry charge.’
- </p>
- <p>
- “And then the rest of the crowd that always likes to see a man took in
- would laugh and Hime would go on cheerful as a cricket. But if he’d had
- less cheek he’d have got rid’ on a rail out of ev’ry fair ground.” He
- closed down the little “pepper-pot” cover over his pipe bowl.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then there was Hime’s dancin’ turkey,” he went on, apparently enjoying
- his recollections hugely. “For two or three years after that he was ’round
- with a fiddle and turkey and a sheet of tin. He’d put the turkey on the
- tin with nettin’ around and set behind and fiddle ‘Speed the Plough,’ and
- keep moving a lamp back and forth under that tin with his toe, and the old
- gobbler would have to tip-toe Nancy mighty lively to hunt for the cool
- places. Looked like he was jiggin’. I’m knowin’ to it that he cleaned up
- sev’ral thousand dollars on that ‘dancin’ turkey,’ as he called it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “All the time his father couldn’t do nothin’ with him! Kind of a
- good-meanin’ chap, Hime allus was, though. Lib’ral with his money. Come
- easy, went easy. Drove a nice team. Girls all liked him. No girl caught
- him, though, till little Myry Austin got into long dresses. Hime was nigh
- onto thirty then, and had gone into a general dickerin’ bus’ness about the
- same as King Bradish does in town now; sold produce on commission, you
- know, and handled farmin’ tools, and so forth. He got to be real likely
- them days, and he reelly did think an awful sight of that Austin girl. It
- straightened him all out, havin’ her take a likin’ to him, and ’twas
- all understood in P’lermo as bein’ settled between ’em. And then
- what did young Klebe Willard do but come back from college with a cap on
- the back of his head ’bout as big as a cooky and his hair puffed
- out in front and puttin’ on more airs than a pigeon on a ridgepole. And
- havin’ nothin’ else to do he cut out Hime, and Hime didn’t know it for a
- long time, ’cause Klebe done his courtin’ on the sly on account of
- the old man. And when Hime did find it out—last one almost in the
- village, as us’ly happens in them cases, and got the mitten—well,
- you talk about goin’ to Tophet at an angle of forty-five with the track
- greased! Nothin’ but cards and hoorah-ste’boy, and tryin’ to make believe
- he didn’t care. I swanny, ’twas pitiful when you knowed what was
- underneath.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Amazeen sighed and bored his cane into the soil, his elbows on his knees.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There was excuses for him, most of us knowed that!” volunteered Uncle
- Buck.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And as though he hadn’t done enough in breakin’ up the engagement—which
- wa’n’t no trouble, seein’ that Hime was so much older and she only kind o’
- silly and teetered up by havin’ a dude like Judge Willard’s boy show her
- attention—Klebe had to go and sass Hime one ev’nin’ right here in
- front of this store—-that was when old Bruce owned it. Hime was
- pretty well tea-ed up—drinkin’ some, you understand, along with the
- rest—and he drove up here, leaned back and looked a long time at
- Klebe, who was standin’ on the platform smokin’ a cigarette. ‘I bought her
- ev’rything I could think of,’ says Hime, ‘but she had to go dicker for a
- poodle-dog and trade herself off, even swap!’
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now with Hime so wrought up and all that, Klebe ought to have passed
- along, but he thought he had a tongue-walloper’s license, bein’ Coll
- Willard’s boy, and started in and called Hime ev’rything he could lay
- tongue to and then pitched into the Look fam’ly, root and branch in
- general; called old Look an ignorant clod-hopper, and said that sendin’
- Phin to college was about like tryin’ to gold-plate an Early-Rose potater.
- And then he barked right out there in public—bein’ dizzy-headed by
- that time, I reckon—that all Myry Austin had cared about Hime,
- anyway, was to watch him perform ’round her, same as boys spit on a
- stick and throw it into a mill-pond for Towser to fetch back. And when
- Hime still set there takin’ it, Klebe was startin’ in on things that was
- worse still, when Hime came over his waggon wheel like a pick’rel after a
- skip-bait and—well, when ’twas over Klebe Willard had marks
- on his face that will always be there. Hime picked him up—everyone
- was too scared to mess in—and lugged him on his back to Judge
- Willard’s and throwed him over the fence about where he boosted the old
- man to-day, and hollered: ‘Here’s something to feed to your cat!’ Then he
- came back and got into his team before old Constable Denslow had got so he
- could speak.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘I shall have to arrest you, Hime,’ he says, ‘as I reckon you’ve killed
- him!’
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Arrest hell!’ says Hime. ‘I tried to kill him!’ And he slashed old
- Denslow across the face with his whip and went out of the village, hootin’
- and gallopin’ his horse, with eighteen hundred or two thousand dollars
- owin’ to people ’round here. And since that night Hime Look ain’t
- been seen in this village till yesterday, and from what was dropped by
- word o’ mouth ’tween him and Phin, it’s pretty plain he ain’t been
- heard from by his fam’ly, either.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He checked his garrulous narration in order to relight his pipe.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s been a hard blow for Squire Phin, it all has,” observed Uncle Buck.
- “Just finishing college when it happened, and havin’ the record of bein’
- the smartest critter there! He had the chance to go into a big city
- law-office, but there was poor old Seth knocked flat’s a flounder, his
- name on notes to wholesalers who’d sold to Hime, and feelin’ holden for
- all the other debts.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Phin done what few boys would do. He come home, put his shoulder to the
- wheel and taught school and studied law between-whiles—and, well, we
- all know how he’s worked it out.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There was more than the money side of it, too, that he had to face,”
- broke in Amazeen.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Seems as if I’ve heard hints that he was pretty fierce took in a certain
- quarter,” observed Brickett, with a sly look.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lord, I guess there was hints and more, too,” snapped Amazeen. “Why, he
- lugged Sylveny Willard’s dinner pail to and from school when they was so
- young that neither noticed there was any diff’rence between Seth Look and
- Coll Willard. Kind of one of those cases where two young ones nat’rally
- took to each other. I was postmaster for a spell and they wrote reg’lar
- when he was away to college, till all to once old Coll knowed about it and
- realised that Sylveny had got out of the ABC age. He up and howled blue
- murder and right on top came the Hime part. Gad, no, he wouldn’t consider
- Phin Look for a son-in-law—wa’n’t pedigree enough to him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Amazeen’s tone was scornful.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s why he f’it off Klebe marryin’ Myry Austin year after year till it
- looked as though they never would git married—and from all I hear
- about the way they git along now, I reckon ’twould have been better
- all around if the old Judge had f’it harder. Klebe had to break loose and
- git a vessel for himself before he dared to buck the old man and marry
- her. I don’t believe he really ever wanted her, anyway, but she’s one o’
- them women that’s like a sheet of fly paper—git it on your fingers
- and try to pull it off and it keeps stickin’ in a new place. She’s too
- pretty to have much head. Ain’t ever had anything to steady her down, and
- that keeps Klebe guessin’ and mad a good part of the time when he’s home.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I’d have been Phin Look I’d have run away with Sylvena Willard years
- ago,” grunted Uncle Lysimachus. “I’ll bet she’d have gone. A dummed old
- hog like Coll Willard ain’t got no right to keep two people like them
- apart. And more’n that, he’s torchin’ her all the time to marry King.
- There ain’t a woman in this village that women-folks in trouble run to as
- they do to her, and we all know what Squire Phin is to P’lermo! There
- ain’t hardly a family in this town that he ain’t settled a fuss for—not
- in courts and by runnin’ up bills of expense, but by kind words and
- common-sense and good advice and by gittin’ right inside a critter’s
- heart. A man ain’t goin’ to get rich by that way of practisin’ law, but,
- by jerro, he’s earnin’ the kind of currency that they say makes a
- millionnaire in eternity. He’s the husband Sylvena Willard ought to have,
- and, by gad, if I was her I’d have him!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did you ever stop to think, Lys,” drawled Ama-zeen, “that people who have
- things pretty much their own way, without carin’ what other people want,
- who tromp over commands, disobey parents, bust into fam’lies and all that,
- are pretty apt to be scaly critters? Bein’ as they are, Sylveny Willard
- and Phin Look deserve to have each other; but bein’ as they are, it’s
- almighty likely they never will. Cuts both ways, you see! A woman that
- forgets all her father has done for her and leaves him alone in his old
- age and goes away to a man that he is dead ag’inst, has got the
- disposition to treat a husband as bad as she has a father. May not do it,
- understand—but the disposition is there. Marryin’ and givin’ in
- marriage is all right, but fam’ly loyalty is something, too. You want to
- remember that Coll Willard probably don’t seem to her the same as he does
- to us. A man that busts into a family when he knows he ain’t wanted may be
- gritty and in love, and all that, but he’s puttin’ himself and his
- pleasure and in-t’rests first, and lettin’ others trail. Phin Look allus
- has practised what he preaches to his clients. But it has sartinly
- happened bad for him—Hime’s cuttin’ up and all the rest, and it
- ain’t lookin’ much better just now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I had an idea they’d git married sometime,” said Brickett. “You’ll find
- that Squire Phin has had some partic’lar mighty good reason for stayin’ in
- this little place. He don’t belong here and he never has. A drummer told
- me that outside of here he’s called one of the best-read men in the State.
- Judges all say that, the drummer told me. He don’t have to stay here, not
- by a long shot. Yes, I thought they’d git married some day when old Coll
- got through, but I guess this Hime matter comin’ up agin will bust things
- forever. Klebe will take it up.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ll tell you what I think will happen now,” broke in a tall young man
- who had sauntered up and had been listening.
- </p>
- <p>
- No one asked any questions. Amazeen bored his cane deeper with indignant
- twistings, as he reflected on the situation.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I reckon she’ll give in to the Judge at last and marry King Bradish.” The
- lounger spoke with tone of conviction.
- </p>
- <p>
- Buck and Amazeen slowly turned their heads and stared at each other with a
- singular look of mutual intelligence. Amazeen’s lips were set in a
- straight line above his bristly brush of short chin beard. There was a
- flicker of malice in Uncle Buck’s gray eyes, glittering under their tufted
- brows.
- </p>
- <p>
- When they had established a thorough understanding by means of a prolonged
- stare, they simultaneously struggled to their feet and started around the
- store. At the foot of the outside stairway they paused and looked at each
- other again.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ain’t nobody else up there with him, is there?” asked Amazeen.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No one ain’t gone up sence he opened shop,” replied Buck. “He got down
- early.”’
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t blame him,” snorted Amazeen. “What with el’phunt and hosses and
- hoorah, and yard full and Hime hollerin’ ’round as though he was
- front of his show tent, and that ding parrot of his squawkin’, ‘Crack ’em
- down, gents; the old army game!’ I reckon the Squire couldn’t git away any
- too early. Now———-” he paused, and the two men looked at
- each other a long time, wrinkling their brows.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If we try to plunk the news about Bradish and ‘Rissy Mayo to him at the
- fust-off, he’ll shet us up by yappin’ out that he won’t listen to slander.
- He handles ev’rything that’s spicy news just that way,” observed Buck,
- dubiously.
- </p>
- <p>
- The young man who dropped the remark about Bradish lounged around the
- corner and stood eyeing the stairway, incertitude written large on his
- vapid countenance.
- </p>
- <p>
- Buck, with the air of a conspirator, cautiously reached out his cane and
- rapped Amazeen’s foot. When the latter raised his abstracted gaze from the
- ground, Buck winked prodigiously and jerked his head sideways. Amazeen
- turned and eyed the young man with a shrewd twinkle of understanding.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Son!” he called softly. The young man came along to them.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You ain’t ever had that talk o’ yourn with the Squire, have ye?”
- </p>
- <p>
- A mournful wag of the head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Wouldn’t you like to have me’n Lys, here, to sort o’ pave the way?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The head waggled again in token of reviving interest.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, you go stand acrost the road and when you see me come to the winder
- and toss out my cud o’ terbacker, you boost along up. Me’n Lys is takin’ a
- friendly int’rest in the case for you. Now go ’long over there and
- watch out.” He pushed the young man away hastily as he began to stammer
- thanks.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I can’t talk with the dum fool,” he growled through the corner of his
- mouth, as he led the way up the stairs. “Fur’s I’m concerned I wisht he
- was married to a half dozen jest like the one he’s hitched up with. But as
- long’s we’ve got to git this thing to the Squire ’round Robin
- Hood’s barn, Mayo’s fool makes a good road-breaker, as you might say. Now
- I’ll start in on the Squire as though I was ready mad because he has
- married Wat to that girl, and that will bring him up all standin’ to argue
- that the marriage is a rousin’ success.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “One that King Bradish is tryin’ to mess into and bust up, hey?” suggested
- Buck with a knowing leer.
- </p>
- <p>
- Amazeen returned the look with just as much significance, thrust his elbow
- into Buck’s ribs and started up the stairs.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You’re right,” asserted Buck. “The Squire’ll fight other folkses’ battles
- before he’ll take up his own—always did, always will, prob’ly. Now,
- I reckon if we manage this thing right, King Bradish will get the wickin’
- put to him in good shape.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He stopped outside the door of the office and concluded in a husky
- whisper:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Even if the Squire don’t get her, Lys, let’s fix it so that King Bradish
- never will. Sylveny Willard’s too good a girl to be wasted that way, and
- if the Judge gits devil-set enough he’s li’ble to drive her right into it.
- Now we’ll ste’boy the Squire onto King in spite of himself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That critter has rid’ around town with his nose up ‘bout’s long as I can
- stand it,” said Amazeen.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He’s a stuck-up, blame-fired skunk, that’s what he is,” snapped Buck, the
- memory of certain sneers about “Palermo’s mossbacks” burning hotly with
- him.
- </p>
- <p>
- The conspirators composed their faces and went in.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER IV—SQUIRE PHIN FINDS HYMEN’S TORCH BURNING HIS FINGERS
- </h2>
- <p class="indent15">
- “Old Widder Bugg was a-weanin’ her ca’f,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Used ha’f for herself and the ca’f had ha’f,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- But he bellered all day and he blatted all night,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And he hollered for his rations so tough and tight,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- That the widder she fed him one last, square meal,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And the next he knowed he was peddled for veal.
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Oh, nice little ca’ves that is bein’ weaned,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Shouldn’t keep blattin’ when the cow’s been dreened.”
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- —Effort by “Rhymester” Tuttle.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>f the four
- strap-bottomed “company chairs” in Squire Look’s office, “three had
- spavins and the other the blind staggers,” as old Uncle Lysimachus Buck
- expressed it. But by dint of balancing on the sound legs or bracing
- against the wall at the right angle, or by extreme care in easing one’s
- self into a safe position, the loafers who dropped in to smoke managed to
- worry along. When the wood box cover was shut down that made a seat for
- two. As for clients, when the chairs were occupied clients were glad to
- roost on a corner of the big table and rap their heels with great ease of
- manner and comfort of person.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire’s visitors sat down and as promptly lighted their pipes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “As I was tellin’ ye, Squire, the other day,” began Marriner Amazeen,
- after pausing to quack briskly at his pipe stem to kindle the waning lire,
- “I don’t see what in sanup ye was thinkin’ of to torch Watson Mayo up to
- marry that hity-tity-flighty little fool for. The minister wouldn’t marry
- ’em and you done it, and so of course the Mayos lay the blame to
- you.” He made great show of resentment. Buck apparently had much trouble
- in refraining from grinning.
- </p>
- <p>
- The ’Squire, who had been feeding the stove, dusted his hands
- smartly and pudged slowly back to his armchair without replying. He picked
- up his pipe, surveyed a match, end to end, preparatory to scratching it, a
- quizzical pucker about his mouth.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You remember the time Benson Wallace had all his new grading washed away
- by the cloudburst, ’Mad’?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Amazeen nodded grimly. He did not relish Squire Look’s illustrations.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, Bens’ came bootin’ down to the office here and wanted me to sue
- Deacon Bassett, who had been praying for rain to fill his mill-pond. Laid
- the whole damage of the cloudburst to the deacon’s power of supplication.
- I don’t have anything to do with these love cloudbursts around here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But you encouraged the cussed fools—torch ’em on,” persisted
- Amazeen.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, it’s a chap named Hymen that carries the torch, ’Mad’. In
- Wat’s case I wasn’t even actuated by a mercenary motive, for he owned up
- that he didn’t have the fee, and he hasn’t paid me yet, and he probably
- never will.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And them’s the kind of double-hitches you’re throwing the harness over!”
- sneered Amazeen.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She’s handsomer than the chromo picture on a calendar—you’ve got to
- say that about the snippet,” commented Lysimachus Buck, desiring to
- provoke the Squire to retort.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You’d ought to ’a’ plunked advice right to him not to do it,
- Squire,” sputtered Amazeen. “It has raised the devil with him—and he
- wasn’t none too bright before. Who knows anything about an industrial
- school girl like her? She don’t know nothin’ about herself. I tell you,
- it’s been a hard pill for the Mayos to swaller. Their only boy clearin’
- out like he done, leavin’ a good, comf’table home and now only a swipe in
- Jote Bradley’s livery stable!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The lawyer leaned back in his chair, and, hooking his leg over the arm,
- softly scratched the back of the appreciative old dog with dangling boot
- toe.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Eli, here, has often remarked to me,” he said, squinting up at the
- cracked ceiling, the quizzical pucker still at his mouth corners, “that I
- let love as a special pleading overrule exceptions right along.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I do really suppose I have done a master sight of malicious mischief in
- the world by marrying these young critters that are fighting the old folks
- and don’t dare to flee to the parsons, and haven’t a single, reasonable,
- sensible, <i>business</i> excuse for getting married, except that they’ve
- fallen in love themselves instead of waiting and letting the farms or the
- fishing schooners be introduced to each other by the old folks and fall in
- love. There’s nothing prettier in this world, ’Mad,’ than a hundred
- and twenty acre farm sighing with its corn tassels and a neighbouring farm
- rippling back an answer with its oat heads, and both of ’em getting
- so much in love with one another that it is only necessary for the young
- folks to get together and ratify the match and count the wedding
- presents.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Old Amazeen snorted disgustedly. “There ain’t no more practicality to you,
- Squire, than there is to a June bug tryin’ to butt the moon. I tell ye,
- proputty has got to be considered first!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire still gazed meditatively at the ceiling through the tobacco
- smoke.
- </p>
- <p>
- “’Mad’,” he said, in that half-jesting tone that many Palermo
- literalists characterised as ‘too free and easy for a lawyer,’ “you’ve
- loafed here a good deal and I’ve heard you comment on most of the Palermo
- vital statistics—births and deaths and marriages. Now here’s the
- difference between you and Eli, here. You say, ‘Huh! ’nother brat
- got along down to So-and-so’s, and only last week she was rapping out
- Hungryman’s ratty-too on the bottom of the flour-barrel with her
- rolling-pin, trying to dust down enough for another batch of biscuit!’ But
- Eli comes in, wags his tail and says to me: ‘Just came past So-and-so’s
- and their dog Gyp said to me that he’d slyed in a few minutes before and
- kissed the new baby on the cheek with the tip of his tongue. Said the new
- baby tickled right out into the funniest little snicker!’ Gyp said: ‘Old
- man, we’re all a little short just now, ’count of extra expenses
- and excitement and all that, you know, or I’d ask you to have dinner with
- me in honor of the occasion, but we’re going to pitch in again in dead
- earnest, and I’m going to run the dog churn over to the custom dairy, and,
- say! for one snicker a day from that baby I’ll trot my legs off.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “’Mad’, as you say it: ‘A couple more fools married before they had
- a shot in their locker.’ And Eli says: ‘I happened to drop in behind that
- young Davis couple in the narrow path, and though I wasn’t trying to
- listen to secrets, I did hear him say: “Little wife, you aren’t sorry you
- married a poor man, are you?”’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “All that people want money for,” said she, “is to buy just such happiness
- as we possess now. And their money doesn’t buy it, after all. And we don’t
- have to say ‘mine’ and ‘your’ about our love. It’s all—<i>ours</i>—and
- that’s a blessed word.” And then she stood on tiptoe and pulled his head
- down—and if I hadn’t run up over the bank then I’d have deserved to
- have a tin can tied to my tail.’
- </p>
- <p>
- “’Mad’, you say: ‘Well, old Brown has got done! I hear he wasn’t
- wuth much property—hain’t leavin’ much behind.’ And Eli comes in
- with head and tail down: ‘It’s the husband of that good, old Missus Brown
- that’s dead—the lady that has set out so many plates of grub for me.
- The plate wasn’t on the back porch this morning, but I sat there a little
- while and I heard some one inside talking low and he said: “There was
- never a man in this town who left so many friends when he died. And he
- left a memory that’s worth leaving—never a mean act nor a sneaking
- trick nor a gouge in a trade! Property? Oh, I don’t know. You never
- thought of that when you thought of him. I only know that he used wisely
- the good things he found on earth in his reach as he went along, without
- seeing how much he could keep away from his neighbours.”’”
- </p>
- <p>
- Old man Amazeen rapped out his pipe ashes and looked at the Squire
- sullenly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Because I’ve tug-a-lugged all my life and got a little money out at
- interest, I s’pose you’re gittin’ in a dig at me, too,” he growled.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, we were talking about young Mayo marrying Damaris Scott,” returned
- Phineas, cheerily, “and you were saying, or intimating, that when two such
- poor love-sick young critters come to me and want to own the privilege of
- walking down life, hand in hand and heart to heart, I ought first to
- inventory their property and their prospects.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The waver in his voice, the depth of his significance was lost on the old
- man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He gave up a good home, and where did they live the first month after
- they were married?” Amazeen struck his hand on his patched knee. “Where
- did they live, I say? In one of Bradley’s box stalls that Wat Mayo tacked
- burlap ’round to keep out the draughts. And they ain’t much better
- off now down in that Sykes’ rent, living on bannock bread and fighting
- wharf rats. <i>There’s</i> one of your—“, old Ama-zeen wrinkled his
- nose and brought the word out of his nostrils with a sardonic twist—“<i>love</i>
- matches, Phin Look, and there’s worse than that on the docket.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Amazeen stumped across the room to the front window. “Huh! That’s queer!
- He’s coming across the street now,” he said, with a chuckle and a wink
- directed at Uncle Lysimachus.
- </p>
- <p>
- Squire Phin understood why the two old men turned their backs on him,
- hunching their shoulders and shaking with suppressed mirth as the
- uncertain footsteps of Mayo blundered up the outside stairs.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was a tall and scrawny young man with black hair parted in the middle
- and spatted down on his head, presenting twin surfaces as shiny as the
- wings of a beetle. A thin moustache drooped over a weak mouth, and his
- eyes had that bland, vacant arch above them that irritates one’s
- common-sense. Stupid, smug, self-satisfied, and spoiled—the only
- child of the hard-working village carpenter, he had always worn better
- clothes than any other boy in Palermo, had never been allowed to work, and
- had posed as a village beau. He was just the one to attract a girl fresh
- from the half-penal restraint of the State industrial school and “bound
- out” as a drudge to a Palermo family.
- </p>
- <p>
- From the time when Phineas Look began first impatiently to notice the
- youth loafing along the street, a cigarette dangling from his lower lip,
- the sight made him angry—not with the boy, but with the parents that
- were ruining him. Once he had bluntly pitched into Ezra Mayo, and from the
- indignant retorts of that fond parent discovered that he vaguely prized
- Watson’s stupid idleness as something aristocratic.
- </p>
- <p>
- The fact that they now referred to this marriage as they would to an
- especially sudden and fatal attack of the bubonic plague, and refused to
- admit that they still had a son, appealed to the offended lawyer by its
- humour rather than otherwise.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You’ve been trying to swim in a puddle of molasses, you poor devil,” he
- muttered as young Mayo came shuffling across the room. The faded glories
- of his worn clothing were eloquent of what had happened in his fortunes.
- His coat was ripped in the arm seam, the cuffs were frayed, but he wore
- his big puff tie of baby blue, and the pungent effluvia of the stable was
- toned down by cheap perfume that surrounded him like impalpable fog.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That smell’s thick enough to cut,” murmured old Amazeen to Uncle Buck,
- fingers squeezing his nostrils. The woe-begone visage of the client
- stirred spasms of silent mirth in the old men.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, Wat, how’s the bride?” inquired Squire Phin, with heartiness. “And
- there wasn’t any hurry about your paying me that two dollars, if that’s
- what you’re come in for.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I ain’t come to pay you no two dollars,” returned the youth, gloomily.
- “First place, I ain’t got it; second place, it ain’t as I expected it was
- goin’ to be.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A subdued “tchock” sounded in the nose of Amazeen.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let’s see. You’re speaking now of your marriage and not of your job, as I
- understand it,” suggested the Squire, relighting his pipe; “though—ump-foo—ump-foo—I
- should say you’d better save such talk for the job.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, I’m sort of speakin’ of the two together,” stammered the young man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I reckon you’d better begin to dissociate your wife from the livery
- stable, Watson,” drily advised the Squire, “even though you did start
- housekeeping there. Now, you’ll remember that you came to me bringing the
- prettiest girl I ever saw, and you told me that it wouldn’t be worth while
- for you to try to live if you didn’t have her. You don’t mean to come here
- now, do you, and tell me that you don’t love her?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “’Tain’t that,” he blurted; “oh, ’tain’t that, Squire. It’s
- because I love her so much and—and—well, somehow it’s all
- going wrong and I’m afraid she don’t love me. It has kind of taken the
- gimp out o’ me. I didn’t think dad and ma would stand out so long—and
- <i>she</i> didn’t, either, and I ain’t got no trade so I can hold down
- some good job, and she ain’t satisfied with me. No, she ain’t, Squire. If
- dad and ma would only take me home—if you would see ’em and
- fix it and——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Look here, Watson.” Look threw himself forward and drove his fists on the
- table with an emphasis that started the dust. “That’s why I married you
- off, you fool, to get you out of leading-strings, to make a man of you,
- instead of a puppy, loafing around our streets and chasing home to your
- mother’s doughnut jar three times a day. Even old Eli, here, knows how to
- carry home a bone for <i>himself</i>, but you hadn’t even done that for <i>yourself</i>
- up to the time you were married. And I gave you something you wanted,
- something to work for, something that every man needs to make a true man
- of himself, except when he’s a tough old bach like me. Now what are you
- whining about?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Phineas Look’s reading of his own “heart-docket” the day before had not
- inclined him over-much to amiability toward this particular variety of
- ingrate. His tone was peremptory and he scowled.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I can’t earn no kind of a livin’,” Mayo stammered.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you probably never will so long as you stay a chambermaid in a livery
- stable. Great God, is that the limit of your ambition or your enterprise?
- A man with a wife he loves, with two strong hands and a will to
- get-there-Eli, to come sniveling like this! Hunt your work! Buckle to it!
- That’s what will make something better of you, boy, than Mayo’s housedog.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The taunt was wasted, for the youth persisted in his stubborn lament. “She
- says now she wouldn’t have married me if she didn’t think we’d be taken
- care of better.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What kind of cussed notions did you put in her head?” the lawyer stormed.
- “If you lied to her, Watson, it’s up to you to square yourself now by
- making good. Do so well by her that she’ll love you and respect you for
- yourself. Don’t make me sorry that I cut your dog-leash before your
- parents plumb ruined you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Young Mayo cast a furtive look at the two old men, and leaning over the
- table murmured, his lips trembling:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I tell you, Squire, she scares me. She says it has come to her in a
- vision that she has a mother—a lady mother, somewhere, all in silks
- and satins, and she’s seen her in a vision with her diamond thing on her
- head. And most ev’ry night she wakes and sits up in bed and reaches up her
- arms and says her lady mother just asked her to come, Squire Phin, and
- she’s a-goin’. Yes, s’r, she’s a-goin’ some time and I’m scared and I
- ain’t got no ambition and I can’t buy her no good clothes, and I sold my
- watch and scarfpin to give her money. My Gawd, Squire, she’s a-goin’ and I
- can’t live without her, nohow.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Perspiration streamed down his quivering face and his lips “guffled”
- tremulously. All the smugness and self-satisfaction were gone now, and for
- the first time the lawyer saw the Mayo boy in all his wretched,
- discouraging inefficiency. With a pang of self-reproach he reflected that
- some natures cannot stand stiff doses—and his remedy for making over
- a man had certainly been a heroic one. As he pondered, he fell into his
- characteristic attitude, hands clutched into the long locks of his gray
- hair, his elbows on the table. He gazed into the pathos of that quivering
- face and studied it as he would the page of an open book. The little
- office was very still.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Blorh-hum!” coughed Amazeen, and he proceeded, addressing no one in
- particular: “When I was a boy, goin’ to school, there was a family named
- Bragg that lived clust to us, and they had a boy named Ximenus—that
- was it, Ximenus Bragg. Them Braggs they was poorer—poorer’n Pooduc,
- but the old man had to have his three dogs, and fin’ly Ximenus was took
- with a craze for music and nothin’ would do but what he’d got to have a
- snare drum. And he teased and he coaxed. Old Bragg hadn’t the gumption to
- plunk his foot right down and say ‘No,’ but he’d whine and argue with the
- boy and say that with winter a-comin’ on he’d ought to have long-legged
- boots instead of a drum. Finally Old Bragg told Ximenus that if he would
- go without the boots and not whine, he could have the drum, and the drum
- he did get, by gorry. I s’pose that for a couple of days there never was a
- more tickleder boy. He ratty-tooed and ratty-tummed and long-rolled and
- biffed and banged and et his meals off’n the head of the thing and kept at
- it till his ma was so near drove crazy that she chased him out doors with
- the rollingpin and threatened to bust in the head of that drum if he ever
- put stick to it ag’in in the house.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There it was, late fall and the snow beginning to fly, and I’ll never
- forget the sight Ximenus made standin’ out there on the cold door stone on
- one foot and holding the other foot to the calf of his leg to warm it, and
- then shifting feet to get the other warm, and drumming away all the time,
- trying to keep his courage up and make himself believe that he loved music
- and the drum and was glad he had it instead of them new long-legged
- boots.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Beats all about some critters, don’t it?” commented Uncle Buck, after
- listening to this tale with much interest.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It does that,” returned Amazeen.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire had not taken his eyes from the Mayo boy’s face.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bub,” he said softly, “they meant well—your folks—but—damn
- ’em for fools.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Are you and the little one hungry?” he asked in a half whisper after a
- time, careful that the old men did not overhear.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We ain’t suff’rin’ none, Squire, but we don’t have meat vittles nor
- nothin’ the same’s I had at——” but as the hard lines crinkled
- ominously around the lawyer’s gray eyes he stopped confusedly.
- </p>
- <p>
- Shielding himself from the scrutiny of Buck and Amazeen behind the youth
- who still leaned over the table, Squire Phin straightened his leg and
- cautiously ran his hand into his trousers pocket. After a period of
- fumbling he slid his hand along the table, slipped a bill into the palm by
- which the young man was propping himself, squeezed the fingers down over
- it, and said with a tenderness almost parental:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Go buy a good, meat dinner to-day, son, and have plenty of meat hash for
- supper, and perhaps the little one will sleep so soundly that the lady
- mother can’t disturb her. Take good heart. As Eli, here, says: ‘The harder
- you have to dig after a woodchuck, the better your appetite is when you
- get him.’ We’ll see what can be done. Now straighten up. Throw back your
- shoulders. Cock your knee every time you step, just like your best livery
- horse—the best ‘letter,’ you know—the one all the folks ask
- for. Hold up your chin and show ’em it’s natural and not a
- check-rein habit. Remember all the time that you’re young, life’s ahead of
- you, and the prettiest girl in Palermo is your wife. That’s the way to
- face the world. Tail over the dasher. Now out and at it!”
- </p>
- <p>
- And seizing the youth by the arm, he marched him to the door, thwacking
- his broad palm between his shoulders at every step.
- </p>
- <p>
- When Squire Phin turned and came back to his table he knotted his eyebrows
- and glared at the two old men.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now wipe those Chessy cat grins off your faces,” he snapped. “I see
- through your hectoring scheme. But you watch me. I’ll sooner or later put
- that marriage along with the others I’ve pigeon-holed under the label
- ‘Successes.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- Amazeen turned to Buck. “The Squire wants to have all his marriage
- certificates hold up like his title deeds, Lys—legal, binding, and
- good for all time. But you mustn’t get touchy with us, Phin. It isn’t very
- often that you marry a fool tumble-bug to a butterfly. Howsomever, you’ve
- done it this trip, and it ain’t goin’ to be a success—and it ain’t
- your fault. There’s something worse than what’s showed yet goin’ to drop
- in that quarter or I’m no prophet. You’d better not be mixed too close in
- it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Go along with your tattling gossip,” cried the lawyer. “If you and Uncle
- Lys haven’t anything better to do, go out and take a sun bath. I want to
- study.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You know more law already than you need. You know it better than you do
- some kinds of human nature, and I’m going to post you a little on the
- last-named,” pursued Amazeen, cheerfully disregarding the rebuff. “There’s
- more’n lady mothers and visions that’s makin’ Rissy Mayo discontented.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Huh-huh!” grunted Look, without apparent interest, taking down a volume
- of reports and spatting the dust from it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I ain’t givin’ you any guess-so,” shouted Amazeen, nettled by the
- lawyer’s contemptuous snort. He stood up and cracked his cane on the
- floor. “I ain’t ghostin’ ’round, ’specially, nor tryin’ to
- pry into my neighbours’ business, but when I’m knowin’ to a thing that’s
- poked right under my nose, why, I know it. Wat Mayo has to set up ev’ry
- ev’nin’, don’t he, to wait for let teams to come in? Well, he wa’n’t out
- strollin’ in the Cod Lead Nubble pines all spring and summer, he and
- Rissy, she a-swingin’ her hat by the ribbons, all so fine and gay—and
- that was nigh ev’ry fair night. He was settin’ in the stable office
- shinin’ up hames’ brass-work and nickel trimmin’s, wa’n’t he? He ain’t
- meetin’ her on the South Cove road with a buff-lined Goddard, and wearin’
- a white hat with a black band, and takin’ her aboard. No, he ain’t got any
- such hat, and there’s only one buff-lined Goddard in these parts and——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You say you’re knowing to all that?” demanded the Squire. His gaze was
- direct and glowering and his fingers gripped the volume so tightly that
- they were white and bloodless.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not only I’m knowin’ to it, but so’s the South Cove seiners that have
- their dry racks out that way.” Amazeen was defiant. The lawyer glared at
- him so threateningly that he became thoroughly indignant. “And if you want
- the straight facts,” he barked, “and have got to have names right out in
- meetin’ to prove it ain’t just gossip, then it’s King Bradish who is
- sparkin’ round the lady mother’s lovely daughter that you’ve plastered off
- onto a poor boy that’s broke his people’s hearts by gettin’ married to
- her. I’ve been wond’rin’ how the high-toned Sylveny Willard would like to
- find that out.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Squire Phin laid the book on the table and put his hands behind him to
- hide their trembling.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You listen a moment, Amazeen,” he said, spitting the words at the old
- man; “there are limits to what a person can tell and tattle in a
- community, when that telling and tattling implicates others’ good names.
- You know me and you know how much you can depend on what I tell you. If I
- hear another word on this matter as having been passed around the village
- by you or Buck, here, I’ll give my services to King Bradish, sue you for
- slander, attach every dollar’s worth you own, and, by the gods, I’ll win
- my case. Now if you want your tongue to empty your pocket, go ahead and
- talk.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The old men stared at him a while and then, mumbling angrily, but plainly
- intimidated, went clumping down the stairs. The Squire stood in the middle
- of the office, his hands spatting each other behind him. At last the
- consciousness that some one was bawling his name outside broke upon his
- profound meditation.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Squire Phin! Squire! Won’t you see here a second?” shouted Amazeen.
- </p>
- <p>
- Look went along to the front window and threw it up. Only the old men were
- in sight in the street, standing shoulder to shoulder, their faces
- upturned, their beards snapping in the breeze. At this safe strategic
- distance they had one more shot to fire, and their countenances showed it.
- Amazeen held his hand beside his mouth and huskily whispered:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Squire, you know—that party—the party we was talkin’ about
- just now?” Sullen nod. “You needn’t sue me on his account. I won’t say
- nothin’. But—Squire!” Another curt nod.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know that said party has owed you a settlement for quite a while, if
- what folks say is true. Now, why don’t you put your bill in with Wat’s and
- collect both with a”—the old man shouted the last word—“hoss-whip?”
- For Squire Phin had banged down the window.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER V—HIRAM LOOK MEETS KLEBER WILLARD BRIEFLY AND BRISKLY
- </h2>
- <h3>
- AFTER TWENTY-FIVE YEARS
- </h3>
- <p class="indent15">
- A nice little man came up the lane,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- And it was summer weather;
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Said he, “It is jolly to meet again,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Like this, we two together.
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And if there be no other thing
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- That you can think to say,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Then it’s ‘How do you do? ’ and ‘How do you do?’
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- And ‘How do you do, to-day? ’ ”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t was
- “Figger-four” Avery who secured from Hiram Look the most information about
- himself for general circulation. When, after the first few days of
- wonderment, the attendance at the Squire’s premises dropped off, it was
- “Figger-four” who remained loyal to the new attraction. Hiram tolerated
- his constant presence because the little man’s wide-eyed, wide-eared,
- wide-mouthed receptiveness of his tales flattered the eminent impresario
- of Imogene and her appanage.
- </p>
- <p>
- Avery was so small and inoffensive that the showman never resented any
- questions that he asked. All others Hiram shooed off with profanity when
- they hinted concerning his affairs and intentions.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Blast him,” growled Hiram to his brother, “I feel like a sap tree with a
- spile let into it when he’s around. I just drip and drip away to him and
- he sets and laps it down and I can’t seem to shut off. But he’s an
- obligin’ little fool.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Avery’s soubriquet came from the appearance of his legs. A fever-sore
- years before had shriveled the left leg, and the knee was set permanently
- at an angle. As he bobbed along, alternately rising and sinking, he kept
- presenting with his legs the shape of a grotesque 4.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Everywhere I go,” said Hiram, “Figger-four is right at my elbow, still
- askin’ questions. And I get interested in answerin’ and I forget and try
- to keep step with him, and the first thing I know I’m hoppin’ along worse
- than a darned jack-rabbit. But he’ll do errands like a fly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Therefore he did not rebuff the little man. In consequence Avery was able
- to report that Hiram had travelled all over the country; that he had
- brought his chariots to Palermo because he was going to start out with
- another circus after he got rested up and had squared things with his
- brother. Furthermore, the people who had bought his other show property
- weren’t willing to pay a fair price for the waggons, and Hiram didn’t
- propose to be “Jewed.” No one had ever got the better of Hiram, so Hiram
- told Avery, and Avery told the people of Palermo. He had—at this
- point Figger-four always took a long breath—rising forty thousand
- dollars in the bank, beside what he carried in the fat pocketbook. He was
- ready to lend money on first mortgages, and Avery was able to state that
- already several persons whom Judge Willard had been squeezing for bonuses
- on renewal of their notes had refunded their loans with Hiram. As Avery
- bobbed around telling this, he served as an excellent advertising medium,
- and other patrons of Judge Willard, who had been the town’s sole financial
- man for years, came to the new capitalist for loans. Avery admitted that
- probably the Judge would still enjoy a monopoly of handling the money of
- the widows and orphans and old folks who had placed their funds with him
- for investment, because Hiram was not yet morally rehabilitated in the
- town’s opinion.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But there ain’t a better man to borrow money from,” concluded his
- champion. “He don’t take no bonus and he lets you have it for six per
- cent, and set your own time.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Moreover, Hiram started the hum of industry in Palermo by hiring Ezra Mayo
- and several helpers to build a shelter for the circus waggons. And he was
- also vaguely hinting to the admiring Avery that next season he might start
- something in the way of business in Palermo that would make people open
- their eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You’re all deader’n a side-show mermaid here in Palermo,” he said one
- afternoon as he and Avery were sitting by the roadside under one of the
- big Look poplars. “There’s a lot of things that need to be peppered up. My
- brother Phin could have done it if he wasn’t too easy-goin’. Now, how long
- has old Coll Willard been town treasurer?”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a queer glint in the good eye that Hiram turned on Avery.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Goin’ on thirty years.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Does he give bonds?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hain’t ever been asked to,” replied Figger-four, with the readiness of
- one whose business is to know other people’s affairs. “This town wouldn’t
- ask a Willard to do such a thing as that. He’s safer’n the Bank of
- England, the Judge is.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is, eh?” Hiram’s voice was hard. “I’ve seen a town note that was signed
- with only his name as treasurer. Does the town allow him to borrow money
- that way?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I believe Cap’n Ward did bring it up in town meetin’ once and say that
- the selectmen ought to sign notes along with the treasurer. But there
- wa’n’t anything done, as I remember. Cap’n was kind of a kicker. He died
- the summer after that town meetin’,” added Avery, with an air as though
- the death were a special visitation to punish temerity in attacking a
- Willard.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, I’m feelin’ pretty healthy, myself,” said Hiram, “and you watch me
- go into the next town meetin’.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lyme Bearce says he’ll bet you’re a disturbin’ element, no matter where
- you light,” stated Avery, with the fearless naïveté of a village
- news-bureau that proposes to do its full duty.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lyme Bearce and the whole of you be jiggered,” stormed Hiram. “I’ve been
- ’round the world some, and got up against human nature, and I tell
- you the only way to meet a man is with one hand hold of your wad and the
- other doubled up behind your back. Old Willard ain’t goin’ to run this
- town to suit himself. You watch me!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then you ain’t goin’ off right away with your circus?” meekly asked
- Avery.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I shan’t be goin’ till things get dull ’round here,” crisply
- returned the showman. “That’ll be after there’s a performance in one ring,
- me with the whip, old Coll Willard ridin’ bareback, and ev’ry time I snap
- he’ll turn a flip-flop.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Figger-four blinked at him uncertainly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let’s see, you ain’t ever seen Klebe since you—you——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Since I licked him! Say it; I ain’t ashamed of it,” blustered Hiram.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, he’s thickened up solid’s a knot, and they say there’s more
- knockin’ down o’ men on board the ‘Lycurgus Webb’ than on any other
- schooner that sails out of Rockland. Terrible hard man Klebe has growed to
- be!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Avery glanced at the showman slyly to note how he received this
- information.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have squared all accounts with Klebe Willard,” said Hiram, “but if I
- owe him anything more he can come and collect it. As for his father,
- that’s another matter. He took my old father by the throat after I went
- away and he had the twist noose of a mortgage around him for a good hold.
- He bought in accounts against us, as ev’ryone in P’lermo knows, so that he
- could collect the bills in a way to add ev’ry cent of costs that
- skin-skunk lawyers could tack on. And my old father and my brother was
- caught foul and paid double—yes, treble—for ev’ry dollar I
- owed. I ain’t nothin’ except plain muck, Avery—just a cheap renegade
- that hasn’t woke up to be half decent till it is too late. Payin’ it back
- to Phin don’t fix it. I shall always hate myself—but never mind
- that!” He swallowed hard and shook his head violently to and fro. Sudden
- passion blazed out of this moment of weakness. “There’s one thing I can do—I
- can spend forty thousand dollars puttin’ Coll Willard where he put my old
- father, and, by the gods, I’ll do it! That’s my business and no one’s
- else, and they can’t oh-please-don’t me!—no one, Avery, no one!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, I reckon the Judge is too well fixed for <i>you</i>,” observed Avery,
- wagging his head. “The Willards was always wuth money—plenty of it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram did not reply. But he snorted contemptuously and his eye had a
- strange look of craft and secret intelligence. “S’pose your brother will
- be your lawyer,” suggested Avery.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Look-a-here, Figger-four,” cried the showman, “I’ve been drippin’ away to
- you as usual without meanin’ to say half that I have. My brother Phin has
- been abused by old Willard, right and left, but he has been too easy to
- fight back the way he ought to. I’m squarin’ things for our family in
- gen’ral, but it has got to be done without Phin’s knowin’ it. Do you see?
- I want to use you some, first and last, and you’ll get your pay, but if
- you say one single word to Phin about what I’m doin’, I’ll twist that
- other leg of yours till the joint comes behind like a cow’s hind gambrel.
- Me and you, and mum! You understand!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Avery apprehensively promised and escaped, evidently fearful lest more
- secrets were to be entrusted to him. He felt that he wasn’t capable of
- safely holding any more just then. But the consciousness that Hiram Look
- was meditating the overthrow of such a magnate as Judge Willard propped
- his eyes open a bit more widely as he hopped about the street, and people
- began to wonder why Figger-four so often caught himself up in his
- discourse and looked scared and hurried away. They didn’t realise how
- anxiously the poor sieve was struggling to hold his secrets. The constant
- and sulphurous threats of Hiram started the cold sweat whenever they
- conferred together. Day by day Avery brought new bits of information that
- the showman sent him to dig out of people, and day by day Hiram fitted the
- information, piece to piece, only himself knowing to what it all tended.
- </p>
- <p>
- He sat most of the time in the porch of the old house, smoking long
- cigars, the parrot occasionally croaking his familiar cry as he waddled
- about his cage, that was suspended from the porch roof.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My office,” Hiram called the porch.
- </p>
- <p>
- People who wanted to borrow money, old acquaintances, folks who loafed
- along that way to hear his stories of wanderings, came and sat on the turf
- of the yard or on the steps. The showman shunned Brickett’s store and the
- other gathering places of the village. Once, Hard-Times Wharff came up and
- started to have a weather-vane spell on the Look porch, but Hiram drove
- him away with violent contumely.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He’s crazier’n a barn rat in a thrashing machine,” the showman observed
- to his faithful Avery. “Why, I hear he even said I was bringing trouble
- into this place, the old liar. I’ve only come to straighten out trouble,
- that’s all. Smoothin’ and glossin’ things over and lettin’ people kick you
- around and never objectin’ may be some folks’ idea of livin’, but it ain’t
- mine. And I don’t allow anyone to say I’m makin’ trouble when I’m doin’ a
- duty. You tell that to ’em in the village, Avery, and you tell old
- Whatyecallum Wharff, there, that I’ll feed him to Imogene if he snoops ’round
- here again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But the next day Avery came bobbing hurriedly into the yard with the
- breathless announcement:
- </p>
- <p>
- “’Quar’us smelt it comin’! ’Twas a warnin’ to you, Hime!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Smelt what? That load of superphosphate that Cap’n Nymphus Bodfish just
- brought in his packet? I can smell it, too.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Klebe Willard came in that packet,” gasped Avery. “His schooner is
- loadin’ at Portland, and he’s up for his lay-off.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, what if he did come?” inquired Hiram, rocking on the hind legs of
- his chair and boring Avery with his piercing eye.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, all is, he’s talked with the Judge, and now he’s frothin’ ’round
- Brickett’s store, and he’s comin’ up here. I stayed long enough to find
- that out.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let him come,” observed Hiram, with a calmness that troubled Avery.
- </p>
- <p>
- The messenger snapped up the full length of his good leg and shook his
- cane at the imperturbable man on the porch. “But there’s liable to be
- trouble,” he cried. “Klebe’s pretty middlin’ how-come-ye-so, same as he
- usually is when he’s ashore, and there’s enough folks in this place to
- want to see trouble and they’ll poke him ahead. Why don’t you have him put
- under bonds?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram got up and stepped down into the road. A man had already started out
- of Brickett’s store and was stumping up the middle of the dusty highway. A
- dozen men were leisurely following along the gravelled sidewalks. When the
- distant pedestrian perceived Hiram, he shouted hoarsely, shook both fists
- above his head and came on with brisk pace.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Avery,” said Hiram, “you gallop down with your best high-Betty-Martin
- tiptoe and tell that gent that’s in the middle of the road that there’s
- nothing’ doin’ in the circus way here this afternoon.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Avery stood hesitating.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hop along,” roared the showman, giving the man a push. “You’ve been
- whinin’ that you didn’t want trouble here. Now get into the game and stop
- it. You can inform Klebe Willard—for I reckon that’s him tackin’ up
- this way—that when he steps his foot onto the Look place he’s
- steppin’ onto a proposition that has the burnin’ deck laid away in the
- ice-box. Tell him I said so.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram left the road and went into the big barn.
- </p>
- <p>
- The other came on more rapidly now, with a shout that was something like a
- jeer. He violently bumped the entreating Avery from his path and strode
- into the Look yard, the retinue following at a distance.
- </p>
- <p>
- The new arrival set his sturdy legs wide apart, threw his cloth cap on the
- ground, and bellowed:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come out here in the fair and open, where there’s sea-room, you old
- woodchuck! Come out and see the mark I’ve lugged for twenty-five years.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He slapped his hand against his cheek where a scar showed its wrinkled
- whiteness across his flushed, brown face.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come out!” he bawled.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Crack ’em down, gents,” squawked the parrot, and he seized a bar
- of the cage in his beak and rattled away vigorously.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come out!” Willard kept shouting, stamping about on the turf. “If you
- ain’t turned coward as well as skin-game thief, come out!” The parrot
- interspersed in these invitations his raucous cries.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Between you and Absalom a man can’t do his chores in much peace,” calmly
- said Hiram, appearing in the tie-up door. He stepped into the yard, set
- the tip of a long-handled pitchfork in the ground, and leaned his shoulder
- against this support.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You see that, do you?” yelled Willard, striding forward a few steps and
- putting a thick forefinger end on the scar. “That’s been there twenty-five
- years.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let’s see. You’re Cap’n Klebe Willard, ain’t you?” inquired Hiram,
- affably. And a wordless shout answering him, he said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I know you and I know the mark, because I put it there myself for
- good reasons.” He looked around at the little group of spectators with an
- air of secure triumph.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you threw my poor old father over his own fence, you coward, when I
- wasn’t there to defend him. Now, Hime Look, you’ve got to meet a man and
- not a boy.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He rolled his sleeves up from his hairy wrists.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You’ve got to fight a man and fight him in order to pay a bill you’ve
- owed here in Palermo for a long time.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Look still leaned on the pitchfork. “Put down your fork!” bawled the
- frenzied skipper, “I’m not one of your tame animals,” and without other
- preface he rushed at Hiram.
- </p>
- <p>
- The showman had been watching him with his sound eye glowing redly, the
- glass one glaring impassively. At the skipper’s rush, with the facility an
- old circus man displays with a pitchfork, he shortened the handle in his
- grasp, speared one tine through the generous cartilage of Willard’s ear,
- and before that furious adversary fairly realised what had happened, he
- swung him on his heel, forced him back by the pain of the pierced ear, and
- then driving the tines into the side of the barn, set both fists on the
- end of the handle and had the frantic man a safe prisoner at the end of
- the fork. Willard writhed a few times, groaning as his ear tugged against
- the steel. Then he stood up, perforce as stiff as a soldier, and roared at
- Hiram all the billingsgate of a long coast “language-artist.” The grim
- captor simply glared at him until he had exhausted himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A hyeny came at me in a cage once,” said the showman, reminiscently, in
- the first pause, “and I caught him just like this, and I held him till the
- fight was all out of him. Now, Klebe, you’ve come up here drunk as a
- fiddler’s hoorah and wantin’ to fight. You can’t fight with me to make a
- town spectacle. That’s what your father tried to do—make a town
- spectacle of me. I won’t stand for it. The Willard family can have all the
- trouble with me it’s lookin’ for, so far’s I’m personally concerned, but
- not in knock-downs. Those don’t settle things. You can see that for
- yourself. We fi’t twenty-five years ago, and here you are just as hot for
- it next time I see you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The skipper burst into a fresh rage, and Hiram calmly waited.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The idea is, Klebe,” he went on in a maddeningly patronising way, “you’ve
- always done about as you wanted to and made others stand ’round.
- Now, I’ve come back to Palermo to do a little runnin’ of things for
- myself. I’ll give you your chance at me when the right and proper time
- comes, and fair warning ahead. And when you say that you’ll walk off these
- premises, then I’ll pull out the fork. If you don’t promise here before
- these people to keep away from me and shut up about fights, you may as
- well make arrangements to have your meals brought.”
- </p>
- <p>
- At that moment Squire Phin came hastily into the yard, in advance of the
- puffing, hopping, terrified Figger-four, who had brought him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hiram,” he called, as he came within hearing, “release Captain Willard.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not until he promises to behave himself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- For answer the Squire, his face flaming with indignation, stepped behind
- his brother, and, seizing him by the shoulders, yanked him backwards. The
- fork came away and Willard stood free, clutching his bleeding ear. As he
- rushed again at Hiram, the Squire stepped between. He said slowly,
- quietly, yet with something in his face and his mien that was
- soul-compelling:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Captain Willard, you go home!”
- </p>
- <p>
- After a long stare at him, a stare that at last grew wavering, Willard
- turned and went out of the yard.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire stood and looked at his brother while the spectators stole
- sheepishly away. His hands were clasped behind his back; sorrow, anger,
- and reproach were upon his face.
- </p>
- <p>
- At last the showman stooped and dragged the fork tine to and fro on the
- grass to restore its brightness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t want to poison Imogene,” he growled.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire was still silent.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, say it,” snapped Hiram. “It’s on your mind. Let’s have it. I’m
- gettin’ used to bein’ called names.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But his brother only shook his head slowly, his eyes lowered to the
- ground. He turned and walked back toward his office.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram gazed after him as long as he was in sight, and then he went into
- the barn. The big doors at the rear were open, and the elephant, with eyes
- directed on the soothing landscape, was comfortably weaving to and fro.
- She crooked her trunk at him as he came near and curved it around his
- shoulders when he stood beside her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Old girl,” he said, mournfully, “I reckon the cards was stacked when they
- dealt me my hand in this game o’ life. I’m a storm centre that would put a
- barometer out of business, but”—he took hold of her ragged ear and
- shouted into it, as though the affirmation did his resolution good,—“it’s
- me for the Willard family, just the same, and Phin along with me at the
- finish. You never <i>did</i> give a continental for me, old girl, till I
- had licked you to a standstill, and I know families that’s like you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VI—SQUIRE PHIN HAS A WORD OF BUSINESS WITH KING BRADISH
- </h2>
- <p class="indent15">
- For the dearest affection the heart can hold
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Is the honest love of the nine-year-old.
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- It isn’t checked by the five-barred gate
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Of worldly prudence or real-estate,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And that is the reason why, till the end,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- A childhood lover is loyal friend.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he little crowd
- that followed Klebe Willard out of the Look door-yard moved slowly, for
- the irate skipper formed the nucleus of the group and stopped every few
- steps to mop at his wounded ear with a big handkerchief, while he grunted
- threats and promises of vengeance.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I hope you’ll give it to him hot and heavy, Cap’n. He needs it. To be
- sure, I’ve done days’ work for him and got my pay, but I was never cussed
- so much before in my life as I was by him in that one week, and I don’t
- allow no man to talk that way to me.” This war-counsellor was Ezra Mayo,
- the carpenter, a sallow, weasened little man who had prudently run out of
- the door-yard at the showman’s first hostile movement. “And there’s others
- in the Look family that better be made to mind their own bus’ness,” he
- added with bitterness.
- </p>
- <p>
- He looked around apprehensively, and he now saw Squire Phin following
- slowly, as though to avoid overtaking them.
- </p>
- <p>
- A carriage was standing in front of Brickett’s store, and the man who
- occupied it leaned back with crossed legs and lazily kicked his foot over
- the wheel. A white hat, a black moustache and the light lining of the
- Goddard top emphasised the colour of his florid face. He looked
- prosperous, well-fed and entirely self-satisfied, and hailed the
- sputtering captain with great familiarity.
- </p>
- <p>
- As the Squire turned to ascend the outside stairway the man in the
- carriage flapped a greeting at him with careless hand, garbed in a tan
- glove. There was in the salute the same half-mocking condescension that
- marked the intercourse of King Bradish with most of the townsmen. But long
- before that, Squire Phin felt there was something more subtle than mere
- condescension in Bradish’s attitude toward him’. There Was a sneer under
- all, and there had been a sneer ever since the time when Palermo knew that
- Judge Willard wanted King Bradish for his son-in-law.
- </p>
- <p>
- As the lawyer toiled up his stairs he heard Bradish inquire sardonically:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, Klebe, which licked?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire closed his door on the flood of profane threats that Willard
- began to pour out, clutching the tire of Bradish’s wheel with one hand and
- pounding emphasis with the other.
- </p>
- <p>
- The lawyer’s hands were trembling a bit as he sat down in his arm-chair
- and drew his tin tobacco-box toward him. He heard the voice of Bradish
- outside, raised above the captain’s angry diapason:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do it? Why, of course I should do it; and you’d be backed up in it by all
- of us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Squire Phin leaned on his table, and, narrowing his eyes in earnest
- thought, stared up at a row of creosote stains on the cracked plastering
- of his wall. Those stains for many years had occupied a peculiar place in
- his thoughts. When he half shut his eyes and gazed on the wall without
- studying detail, the stains took on the semblance of a row of men. He used
- at first to imagine them a jury, and he rehearsed his cases before them.
- It was profitable exercise. Every judge who came to hold court in that
- county had grown to respect the ability of the earnest attorney whose law
- was so flawless and whose cases were so thoroughly prepared.
- </p>
- <p>
- And after the Squire began to study the conditions of the country and its
- great social questions, he found recreation in applying to them the broad
- principles of law and seeking for solution. His own modest orbit of
- practice afforded him no mental stimulus such as he got from this
- imaginary practice.
- </p>
- <p>
- One day when there were no loafers in his office, he half-shamefacedly cut
- the picture of the Chief Justice of the United States out of an
- illustrated weekly and tacked it on the wall in the centre of the creosote
- stains, and after that he argued “big cases.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And in order to argue them he stinted himself in his modest personal wants
- in order to buy reports and digests and commentaries and all kinds of fat
- books in slippery buff calf; and he read those books until his eyes ached
- and his head spun, and he trained his big guns of logic and appeal on
- those creosote stains—and then sometimes wondered whimsically if
- this were not a sign of incipient aberration. He worried a bit
- occasionally until a certain grave judge whom he met at nisi prius term
- confessed to him one day as they were strolling after supper that he, from
- childhood, had entertained a gnawing hankering to be a locomotive
- engineer, and even then at sixty-five liked to walk by himself along
- country paths, chuffing softly between his teeth and keeping as sharp a
- lookout as though he were in the cab of a limited express.
- </p>
- <p>
- After that—the Judge being generally considered the most
- matter-of-fact old hard-head on the State bench—Squire Phin
- reflected that probably all men, if one but knew it, nurse little notions
- of their own.
- </p>
- <p>
- Therefore he kept on hammering the great trusts before that Creosote
- Supreme Bench, cherished the diversion as his chief recreation—lived
- in a dream world of amazing activity and usefulness. And in the meantime
- he humbly and contentedly drew deeds, conveyances and wills, appraised
- estates, presided sagely over “leave-it-out” questions of dispute, and
- spent most of his time keeping would-be litigants in Palermo out of the
- law.
- </p>
- <p>
- The voices under his window kept on their monotonous rumble as he
- meditated. There was the occasional spit of an oath from Willard,
- following the irritating drawl of Bradish, who seemed to relish the
- skipper’s rage.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your honours,” murmured Squire Phin, “I want to thank God in your
- presence that I never yet ste-boyed a bulldog into a fight, rubbed a
- tomcat’s ears, nor scuffed a rooster’s feathers and set him over into a
- neighbour’s barnyard.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He tossed his pipe into the tin box and went along and threw up the front
- window as though he had arrived at his resolution.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bradish!” he called, and when the man poked his head around the side of
- the Goddard and peered at the window, the Squire beckoned and went back to
- his chair.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was intending to come up right away, Squire,” said the visitor, with an
- irritating air of condescension, standing with one foot on a chair and
- slapping his glove against his leg. His garments seemed peculiarly fresh
- and smart in the dingy office, in contrast with the lawyer’s careless
- attire. “But I got pretty much interested in hearing Klebe give personal
- recollections of ‘When I was a circus animal for five minutes!’ It strikes
- me that your brother——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I didn’t call you up here to talk about my brother,” broke in the lawyer,
- brusquely.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sure enough,” replied Bradish, airily, “I’d be ashamed of him if I were
- you. So, then, to business! Have you collected from Buffum and Crummett
- and those others?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No,” said the lawyer, “and it isn’t about them I want to talk. I——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I propose to talk about ’em,” snapped Brad-ish, interrupting
- in turn. “Here I’ve put a lot of bills in your hands to collect—<i>collect!</i>
- I want all that’s due me and I’ve got to have it. I’m in a hurry and I
- told you so. This is the fourth time I’ve ordered you to put ’em to
- the wall, and you haven’t done it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Look here, Bradish,” said Squire Phin, standing up and planting his broad
- hands on the table to prop himself, “I’ve collected your bills from all
- except a half dozen men, and that half dozen intend to pay. But I’m not
- the kind of a lawyer that will take a poor man by the heels and pound his
- head on the ground to shake money out of his pockets. Those men have had
- sickness and death and troubles in their families, and they simply can’t
- pay. And you can’t buy law in my office with which to persecute honest
- men, Bradish.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Give me the bills, then,” commanded the other, stretching out his hand
- and clacking his middle finger smartly into the palm. “You aren’t the only
- lawyer in this county.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Squire Phin looked at him steadily for a time, then pulled down a letter
- file and began to search it. When he had found the papers he held them and
- gazed at his client, knotting his eyebrows.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I didn’t call you up here to talk about your bills,” he said, “but now
- that we are on the subject I’m going to ask you something, Bradish. Why is
- it that, after I’ve collected and put in your hands almost ten thousand
- dollars in the last few weeks—from men to whom you had promised
- longer time—you are still driving me to take the very heart’s blood
- out of these poor devils? Can’t you wait a few weeks?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Bradish brought his foot to the floor.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I suppose it’s a regular thing for a lawyer to ram his nose into a man’s
- business and twist it clear to the bottom, hey?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t know as I ever asked another client such a question,” rejoined
- the Squire, coldly, “because I don’t usually have a client who wants me to
- go to a debtor with an auger and a blood-pump when the poor chap is down
- and helpless.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then I’ll tell you, Look,” said Bradish, leaning forward with mock
- appearance of confiding the truth; “it’s none of your infernal business.
- Give me those papers. I know of a man that can collect them.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I know a man that will,” returned the Squire, “and collect them
- without making women and children go hungry while their men folks are in
- jail.” He sat down at the table, pulled a long wallet from his pocket and
- began counting money from a thick packet of banknotes. “Receipt those
- bills,” he said curtly.
- </p>
- <p>
- Bradish hesitated a moment, his anger prompting him to refuse the money
- from this source. But evidently his anxiety to secure his cash
- overmastered the grudge. He scrawled his name across the papers and took
- the banknotes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Circus money, eh?” he sneered, unable to resist the impulse to make the
- fling. “I heard that Hiram has been squaring himself with you.” He began
- counting the money.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now there’s no more business between us, Brad-ish,” said the lawyer as
- his client buttoned his coat.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I hope not,” retorted Bradish.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Only this,” pursued the Squire; “I may guess what you’re collecting your
- money for and shortening financial sail in town, and I may not. No matter!
- But I want to tell you, King Bradish, that from this time out you are
- going to leave Damaris Mayo to her husband.” Again he propped himself on
- the table and leaned forward.
- </p>
- <p>
- The charge came so unexpectedly that the man’s florid face grew pale and
- then as suddenly flushed crimson, as he stammered oaths, seeking emphasis
- for his denial. The Squire came around the table toward him and raised his
- hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not a word—not a word more, Bradish,” he said, his composure
- perfect. “I married that boy and girl, and you can’t ruin that little home
- if I can prevent it—no, sir, you can’t!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Bradish strode to the door, but he drove his fists down at his sides with
- a gesture of impotent ire, whirled and came back close to the lawyer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why don’t you own up what your grudge is against me?” he gritted. “Why
- ain’t you man enough to fight fair and lay down when you’re licked? If
- Syl-vena Willard had wanted you she would have married you, and because
- she is going to marry me when—-when”—his eyes shifted uneasily
- under the Squire’s stern gaze—“when she gets ready to, is no reason
- why you should ghost me ’round town and make up stories to retail
- to her. I suppose you’ll be reporting I’m planning to run away.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You stop right where you are, Bradish!” cried the lawyer. “Sylvena
- Willard is too good a woman to have her name bandied here between us, or
- dragged through a village scandal by your fault. Your affairs and hers are
- between yourselves. You needn’t discuss them. But you shall not break up
- young Mayo’s family, nor insult Sylvena Willard by your actions, and I say
- this as a friend of both. Now, if you know where your head is level you
- will get out of my office.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The creases deepened about the Squire’s mouth. One fist was clenched at
- his side. The other hand pointed to the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- Bradish paused irresolutely, closing and unclosing his hands. But at that
- moment the door opened and a woman came in. Bradish crowded past her and
- went thumping down the stairs.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Micajah Dunham, bolt upright in the middle of the seat of a rattly
- beach waggon and disdaining the support of the leather-covered back, even
- when the ledges of the Cove road danced her most vigorously, had with a
- directness typical of Mrs. Micajah Dunham driven straight to the gnawed
- hitching post in front of Brickett’s store. Mrs. Dunham always appeared to
- be a very rigid sort of person, but on this occasion there was extra
- rigidity about her, from the set of her jaw to the stiffness of her knee
- action, as she stepped down from the waggon. Looking neither right nor
- left, she ran the halter rope through the gnawed hitching post and walked
- up the outside stairs exactly in the middle, hands at her sides and
- neglecting the rain-bleached rail as she had disdained the seat-back. A
- bonnet trimmed with dust-spotted imitations of grapes framed her narrow
- face squarely, and a shawl appeared to pinch her shoulders together.
- </p>
- <p>
- She sat down in the “blind-stagger” chair well to the edge, on account of
- the dust, at which her housewife’s eye glared in disfavour.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Squire,” she said, with a directness of attack that took no account of
- his averted face, “I’ve come to consult you legally, and I’ve brought the
- dockyments.” She jerked herself up, crossed the room, and laid on his open
- book a sheet of rudely scalloped pink paper, on which were pasted hearts
- cut out of red and blue tissue.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s almost the first to which I really was knowin’ the straight
- facts,” she went on. “But I’ve had a glimmer of an idea for some time. Oh,
- I tell you it ain’t come all to once, this thing ain’t!” The lawyer turned
- slowly, picked up the paper, holding it gingerly by the corner.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sit down, Esther,” he said quietly, “and we’ll see what we can make out
- of it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- There were some lines of writing on the paper, and he read them aloud in
- dry, legal monotone, the woman greeting the sentiments with scornful
- sniffs:
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- “For those that love the world is bright;
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- And when it’s bright it is a sign
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- That some one’s eyes do shed the light;
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Oh, darling, be my Valentine!”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p>
- He paused and cocked his eyebrows at her inquiringly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I caught Mr. Dunham writin’ that tormented sculch out of a book at the
- sekert’ry in the best room one day the first of this month,” she said.
- “And I took it away from him. And I know that he jest went to work and
- made another, ’cause he said he was goin’ to. He’s been dead set
- and possessed by the Old Harry for months, Squire, till I’m plumb out with
- him. I can’t, won’t and shan’t stand it no longer. Here’s items, if you
- need ’em.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She unfolded a long roll composed of many sheets of notepaper pasted
- together, and he read in the same calm voice her pencilled entries:
- </p>
- <p>
- “July 15.—He helped her and her scholars to pick white weeds to trim
- up the schoolhouse.
- </p>
- <p>
- “July 19.—Took our ladder and clime trees for leaves, ditto.
- </p>
- <p>
- “July 22.—Took broken candy to door and give it to her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “August 2.—Hitched and took her to her boarding place when it
- rained.
- </p>
- <p>
- “August 5.—More broken candy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “August 7.—Hitched before school and went after her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “August 10.—Dressed up and visited school.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The lawyer ran his eye over the other entries, noting a general similarity
- in all. Then he read aloud:
- </p>
- <p>
- “August 10.—Suspect he is making a valentine.
- </p>
- <p>
- “August 12.—Caught him at it and took the valentine.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And this is it, eh?” he inquired, tapping the gaudily decorated sheet on
- the table. “But this is hardly the season for valentines.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And this ain’t the season for a man that’s goin’ on fifty-two to fall in
- love with an eighteen-year-old girl, either,” she retorted. “But he’s done
- it. And ’sides all I’ve put down, it has been a continual peddlin’
- out to her of candy and apples and fol-de-rols. You understand that by
- twistin’ a little I can see that schoolhouse door right from my but’ry
- winder, and there it is in that paper, chalked up to date.”
- </p>
- <p>
- For the first time since she had entered the room his eyes softened a bit.
- He shook the paper at her gently.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I understand, do I,” he inquired, his mild tones contrasting soothingly
- with her high-pitched anger, “that this record of devotion to a certain
- school-house door means that ’Caje is——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It means,” she shrilled, “that that miserable, old, soft-headed fool of a
- husband of mine has gone to work and fell in love with that young
- teeter-bird of a schoolmarm in our deestrick, and has acted out till I’m
- distracted. I can’t do nothin’ with him, Squire. He jest grunts and growls
- and clears out of the house when I go at him. Now it’s come to the end of
- the jig. Understand? It’s the wind-up.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There’s the dockyments. I want to warn you right at the outset that you
- ain’t goin’ to come none of your gum-games on me, the way they tell of you
- actin’ with some of them that come to you for law. My mind is as set as
- old Pisgy itself.” She brought her work-stained hand down on the chair
- rail with a vehemence that made it creak.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’m not going to have any fight with you, Esther,” he replied, smiling
- into her hostile eyes. “But you do surprise me about ’Caje. I
- thought he was as steady-going as a stone boat.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She nipped her lips spitefully.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Always a hardworking man, ’Caje has been,” the lawyer went on;
- “has stuck to his work a little speck too close, maybe.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Look here, Squire Phineas Look,” she broke in, “this ain’t gittin’ on
- about that <i>di</i>-vose. You needn’t try to beat about the bush.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let’s see!” he mused. “Poor, crazy Ben Haskell’s girl, ’Liza, is
- teaching in the Dunham district, I believe. And Ben in the asylum these
- five years! Is she as pretty as her mother was before her?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “High-headed snippet,” sniffed Mrs. Dunham. “But I’ll show her!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire set his arms on the table, his elbows squared, and a quizzical
- smile in the wrinkles about his eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “’Caje Dunham is a good neighbour, is honest and pays his bills,
- Esther,” he said, “but do you think for one moment that pretty ’Liza
- Haskell wants that old, callous-fisted, round-shouldered husband of yours
- hanging around her?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The woman’s eyes narrowed, and she glared at him with malice in her gaze.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A school agent in a district has to putter around the school house more
- or less,” he went on. “If he has been too neighbourly I’ll talk with him
- about it. But you’re not going to drag an innocent girl through any
- scandal, Esther, just to satisfy some grudge that you’ve hatched up in
- your own mind.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “So she has run to you with her budget, has she?” demanded the woman, her
- expression still more malevolent.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, I haven’t seen ’Lize Haskell for months,” said the Squire with
- candour.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, <i>she</i> ain’t the one I mean,” Mrs. Dunham snapped. “I mean the
- pompous Queen o’ Sheby that was sittin’ in that school house yistiddy when
- I called there to give the little fool her come-uppance right before her
- scholars.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She nipped her lips and looked at him so spitefully and meaningly that a
- flush crept up from under his collar.
- </p>
- <p>
- He knew that the motherless girl had become a protégé of Sylvena Willard’s
- at the time that Ben Haskell had been taken to the madhouse.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No wonder you’re ’shamed,” the woman went on angrily. “You all of
- you are in the plot ag’inst me. I give her her earful, all right, Willard
- so high and mighty, or no Willard. That teacher and her, the both of ’em,
- got it straight from <i>me</i>.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you mean to say that you went to the school house and abused that girl
- before Sylvena Willard?” demanded the Squire, standing up and glowering
- down on her.
- </p>
- <p>
- But her spirit was equal to his, for her anger was bitterer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If any woman gits in my way when I’m doin’ my bounden duty by myself,”
- she retorted, “she gits what’s comin’ to her. Says I to that snifflin’
- school-marm, ‘There’s no man what’s draggin’ at a woman’s gown-tail unless
- he gits encouragement.’ And I says to Miss Queen Sheby of the Willards,
- ‘You can take that to yourself, you that’s tryin’ to shet me up. King
- Bradish and Squire Phin Look wouldn’t both be——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Esther Dunham,” he shouted, “not another word. Not one word!”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was the awful anger of a patient man thoroughly aroused that fronted
- her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have a right to speak my own mind, and I pretty gen’rally do it,” she
- muttered, but she did not venture to say any more.
- </p>
- <p>
- He slowly sank back into his armchair, still glaring at her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, the devilish weapon that a woman feels privileged to use,” he cried.
- After a time he went on sternly:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Esther, I knew you at school, and I’ve watched you more or less since.
- You were kind of a cute little girl, with your way of spitting out just
- what you thought about folks and things. But we’d laugh at kittens when
- we’d cuff an old cat’s ears for doing the same thing. You’ve nagged and
- browbeaten your husband all your life together, and you know it!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gimme them dockyments,” she rasped, popping up with a snap like a
- carpenter’s rule. The lawyer put his broad hand on them.
- </p>
- <p>
- “’Caje Dunham was the kind of man that you could have driven with a
- cotton thread of love and teamed him anywhere. But you’ve used goad
- sticks, and hot pitch and a twist bit, and it isn’t any wonder you’ve made
- him balky.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “So you’re stickin’ up for that missable critter right before my face and
- eyes,” she cried. “I might ’a’ knowed better than to come here and
- expect a dried-up old bach to admit anything about the rights of a woman.
- You give me them papers, Squire Phin Look! I know where I can buy law,
- even if it isn’t for sale in this shop.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He calmly held the papers away from her clutching fingers.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How much have you and ’Caje put away between you?” he inquired.
- </p>
- <p>
- And when she did not reply, puckering her eyes and resenting his intrusive
- question, he suggested, more gently, “In case of alimony, you know!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If that’s what you’re askin’ for, I don’t know as there’s any hurt in
- tellin’ you we’ve got risin’ ’leven thousand, put where it’s
- earnin’ int’rest and twenty-five hundred out on first mo’gidges.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And not a chick nor a child to leave it to,” he murmured, looking at her
- with sudden sympathy in his eyes. “It’s too bad, Esther, that your little
- ’Cilia was called away to her treasures in Heaven before she could
- enjoy some of the treasures you heaped up on earth for her—you two,
- poor, tug-a-lugging old critters, you!” She sat down suddenly, and her
- work-stained, knotted hands trembled as she folded them on her lap.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Saving and skinching and piling up,” he went on. “What good has it ever
- done you, Esther? Why didn’t you and ’Caje knock off and have a
- little fun together in the world before you got hardened this way? And for
- poor ’Cilia it was always ‘Sometime!’ till she got to be sixteen
- years old, and then she went on the first journey of her life—to the
- grave! And the only good dress she ever wore was the one you laid her out
- in! Do you know what animals grub and grub with their noses rooting soil?”
- He shouted the question at her.
- </p>
- <p>
- She came back at him with equal fire. “When I want a sermon I’ll go to the
- parson! ’Tain’t any disgrace to be prudent and forehanded, is it,
- even if we ain’t got no one to enjoy it after we’re gone?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Her voice broke suddenly. The tears flooded into her cold eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, Squire,” she quavered, “’twould have been different with ’Caje
- and me if only ’Cilla’d been left to us. Hain’t neither of us
- knowed what to do with ourselves since we laid her away in the graveyard.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He walked around the table and patted the shoulder bowed under the faded
- shawl.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And as little as you’ve got left in the world now, Esther, here you are
- wanting to get rid of the biggest hunk of it. Can’t you realise that you
- don’t understand this thing yet? Your husband don’t know what the trouble
- is with him. Now let me tear up this list of ’Caje’s temporary
- aberrations. I’ll have a talk with him, and we’ll see—we’ll see!”
- </p>
- <p>
- But with an angry red in her cheeks that seemed to scorch the tears there
- she jerked her shoulder away from his patting hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Squire Phin, you’ve known me from a little snippet, and you know I ain’t
- flyin’ off to no tangents without good reason. It ain’t no one night’s
- growth, this ain’t. I’m going to have a bill from that man, I say! The
- neighbours ain’t goin’ to have a chance to say <i>I’ve</i> backed down. If
- you don’t want to take the case, then out with it, bus’nesslike, and I’ll
- go farther. But that <i>di</i>-vose I’m goin’ to have!”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was no gainsaying her angry obstinacy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, Esther,” he said with a sigh, “leave the papers and I’ll have
- notice of the libel served.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “When? There can’t be no more fubbin’. The neighbours are all stirred up,
- and I’ve made my talk!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “To-morrow.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “So do! And I’ll plan according,” she snapped, and with lips set tight she
- left the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire slowly filled his pipe, his eyes fixed in unblinking stare on a
- far corner.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Neighbours!” he snorted. “Poor little gaffer of a girl, and the whole of
- ’em pecking at her!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He aimlessly searched for a match in his pockets, his eyes still on the
- corner.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, Sylvie,” he murmured, “they are just ready to bury their beaks in you
- if you step between—oh-h-h!”
- </p>
- <p>
- In sudden impotent choler he snapped the stem of the unlighted pipe, threw
- the pieces into the corner and went out, shutting his office door behind
- him with a vehemence that made the building shiver.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VII—THE BUSINESS OF HUMAN HEARTS
- </h2>
- <h3>
- THAT CALLED SQUIRE PHIN TO THE COVE ROAD
- </h3>
- <p class="indent15">
- Uncle Elnathan Shaw one day
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Started down cellar, usual way,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Plannin’ in usual way to draw
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Cider enough for ’foresaid Shaw;
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- But he happened to slip on the upper stair,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Whirled round and grabbed at the empty air,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And clear to the foot of them stairs, ker-smack,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- He bumped on the bulge of his humped old back;
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And his wife yelled down, as mad’s a bug:
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- “Ding-rat your pelt, did you break my jug?’
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">M</span>icajah Dunham was
- pulling “six-weeks” beans in his lower lot the next afternoon when he saw
- two men coming across the field toward him. With hand at his forehead he
- soon recognised them—Squire Look’s sturdy figure, and behind him the
- equally well-known waddling bulk of “Sawed-off” Purday, Palermo’s local
- deputy sheriff.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hen’, just hand ’Caje that paper,” directed the Squire after the
- greetings. “Then, if you’ve a mind to, go back to the team and wait while
- I have a word here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The farmer’s face paled as he took the paper, first dragging his
- earth-soiled hands across his trousers’ legs. He realised it must be a
- legal document, and it frightened him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It isn’t often that the lawyer himself comes along with his paper,”
- commented Squire Phin, “but I felt that this might need a little
- elucidation—and something else, perhaps.” The farmer blinked,
- holding the writing aslant. The sheet crackled and fluttered in his
- trembling hands.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I ain’t got my specs, Squire,” he said with agitation. “But I don’t owe
- no money nor nothin’ to be sued for. What is it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Esther has sued you for a bill of divorce,” the lawyer explained bluntly.
- “Charge, cruel and abusive treatment. From what she tells me you are
- knowing to the whys and wherefores.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Dunham stumbled to a tussock and sat down. “Di-vose! Di-vose!” he
- stammered. “Esther sue me? I don’t believe it. It is some kind of a lawyer
- trick. Lawyers is alwa’s stirrin’ trouble, but I didn’t reckon you was one
- of that kind, Squire Look.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Look here, ’Caje,” the lawyer’s voice was bluff and businesslike;
- “it’s better for me to handle this matter than to have it left to that
- young whippet over to the Corner, who’d have your heart out if he could
- pile up costs that way. Now, what do you mean by volunteering in the cause
- of education?” he inquired, jerking his thumb at the school house, whose
- roof was visible above the rise of ground.
- </p>
- <p>
- Micajah lowered his eyes under the keen look, visibly discomposed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Still she’s a-dingin’ away at that, hey?” he growled. “If you was a
- school agent in a deestrick, Squire, and there was a poor, lonesome little
- wusser’n-orphan critter of a schoolmarm teachin’ the school, wouldn’t you
- sort of show her a few attentions so’s to keep her in the deestrick,
- seein’ that the children all love her? I’ve tried to explain to Esther,
- Squire, that it’s all in the way of school gov’ummunt, as you might say,
- but you know what a woman is!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’m afraid I don’t understand quite as well as I’d like to,” admitted the
- lawyer sadly, “but as for you, I reckon you don’t know ’em at all,
- ’Caje. And you don’t know even your own self, you old numbhead.
- You’re sitting meeching there on that tussock, and you don’t know your
- heart well enough to understand whether you ought to be ashamed of your
- attentions to the schoolma’am or to be proud of them, as showing that you
- still have human feelings left. And the result of it all is that you’ve
- blundered ’round till you’ve made your wife jealous, instead of
- putting tenderness and generosity and mother-feeling into her heart. You
- blind old mole, you simply don’t know—-don’t know! Here! You come
- along after me with that paper in your hand!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He led the way across the field, up the apple-tree bordered lane and into
- the house. There was no one in the kitchen or in the little sitting-room,
- where Esther Dunham always sat at her sewing o’ afternoons, the sun
- filtering on her through the leaves of the window plant? No one in the
- house! They searched and called, and only the clock’s tick-tack answered
- in the silences.
- </p>
- <p>
- Everything was tidied. The table had been reset after the noon meal, and
- its well scoured ware glinted cheerfully. Micajah grabbed the lawyer’s
- arm.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She’s took her napkin ring!” he gasped. “She’s gone, Squire!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The husband hurried into the west bedroom and fumbled in the closet. “And
- her clothes is gone, Squire!” he called dismally. “Oh, my Gawd, if this
- ain’t trouble come double then I don’t know what ’tis.” He sat down
- on the edge of the bed and seemed about to weep.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Get up there, you old fool!” Look roared. “I’ve about concluded that the
- two of you need guardians or—or keepers.” He stood before Micajah
- with his arms akimbo. “Eleven thousand at interest and twenty-five hundred
- on first mortgages!” he sneered. “And while you’ve been pawing that out of
- the muck, you and your wife, you have never stood up straight, taken full,
- free breath of air and God’s sunshine and looked into each other’s eyes
- like true man and wife. And she doesn’t know you and you don’t know her,
- and you don’t know your own selves. Oh, ’Caje Dunham, I’m ashamed
- of you!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The man stared at him stupidly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You don’t know yet what I mean, do you?” the lawyer went on. “You’re
- waiting for me, an old bach, to explain to you your mistakes and point out
- your duty.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A youngster came slapping his bare feet along the shed walk.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Squire Look,” he called, “Mis’ Dunham is over to my marm’s, and she just
- see you come in here, and sent word if you got any business with her you
- can call over there.” He added, triumphantly, “She’s brung her clothes to
- our house, too, and she’s goin’ to be our boarder.” He had edged into the
- bedroom, and his round eyes, big with the half-knowledge and guesses of
- childhood, goggled at the woe-stricken husband.
- </p>
- <p>
- The lawyer meditatively stroked his nose a moment and then turning without
- a word walked out of the house. The boy pattered on ahead. Dunham picked
- up the writ and followed dejectedly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Be you goin’ to stay to the big meetin’ to-night, Squire Look?” inquired
- the boy, bursting with his fresh knowledge. “Mis’ Dunham and my marm and
- my pa and Mister Bolster are goin’ to have all the people meet at the
- school house and discharge teacher.” He turned his urchin’s stare of
- inquisitive significance on Dunham, stubbing along behind in the highway.
- “Mis’ Dunham come into school this afternoon and told teacher, and teacher
- didn’t go home after school, but I peeked in the winder, and she’s there
- cryin’ and——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bub,” said the Squire severely, “you’re anxious to grow up to be a nice
- big man, aren’t you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yep.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, there’s nothing that stunts growth like using your tongue too much.
- That’s why so many women are shorter and slimmer than men. Now always
- remember that all your life, and some day when you’ve grown up good and
- tall you just tell your little boys that a nice old lawyer gave you that
- advice about your tongue and never charged you a cent for it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The boy stared up and down the big man, slowly slooped up the moisture of
- his open mouth, and closed his lips apprehensively.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Dunham was on the front porch of the neighbour’s house, defiantly
- awaiting their approach.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Has that paper been served?” she demanded, when they were still some
- distance down the path.
- </p>
- <p>
- The abandoned husband held up the fateful document, and was about to break
- into appealing speech, but she stamped her foot and checked him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not a word—not a word from you!” she screamed fiercely. “It’s all
- over and done and the passel tied and the string cut between us. I’m here
- to stay till I git my bill and allowance by the court. I shall watch that
- house till I git my own out of it. Then you can go to pot and see the
- kittle bile, for all I care. Ain’t you ashamed to face me with the stigmy
- of that law paper on you?” She pointed at him as at something proscribed.
- Her hosts were at the window, listening with manifest enjoyment. The
- situation maddened Dunham.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Talk to her, Squire! For pity sakes, talk to her,” he entreated, tears
- running down his sallow cheeks. “When she has twitted me before this I
- ain’t talked right to her, and I realise it all now. I’m awful sorry—I’m
- turrible, awful, desp’rit’ sorry I ever talked uppish to you, Esther,” he
- wailed. “I ain’t fell in love with any one else. I vow I ain’t. It’s
- diff’rent than that. I ain’t skercely realised how it was— but I
- reckon I know now. I’ve been thinkin’. I was jest—I was jest——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, you was jest Mr. Pompous-on-Parade, all so fine and gay,” she
- sneered, “and now you think that one drop of goose grease is goin’ to cure
- all the smart and hurt. But I tell you now, as I’ve already told Squire
- Look, once my mind is made up it is set as the eternal hills. Now, can you
- get that through your wool?” she stormed, her eyes blazing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know your disposition is inclined that way, Esther,” he faltered,
- lifting his eyes to her piteously.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And you say there ain’t no way—no chance——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, sir!” she spat.
- </p>
- <p>
- He pondered awhile, his slow, farmer comprehension of the situation
- dropping back into the material rut, in which his life had flowed like
- muddy water. “Which of the milk pans is to be skimmed to-night, Esther?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I marked them for you,” she replied stiffly. “And the cooked stuff is on
- the swing shelf in the suller-way. Doughnuts and cookies in the stun’ jar
- ’side of the flour barrel in the but’ry.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The lawyer had been scowling at the peering heads in the window. “Esther,”
- he broke in, “I want you and ’Caje both to come over to your house
- and sit down. I’ll venture to say that we can get at a more sensible
- arrangement than all this amounts to.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You’re up to your old tricks again, Squire!” she cried sarcastically.
- “There are some folks that you can wind ’round your little finger,
- and some you can’t, and I’m”—she patted her flat breast—“one
- with too stiff a backbone to be wound.” She whirled on her heel and went
- into the house, slamming the door spitefully.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire gazed at the farmer with a flicker of sympathy in his eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Go home and do your chores, ’Caje,” he commanded gruffly, “and be
- at the school house this evening.”
- </p>
- <p>
- At that moment the master of the house issued from a side door with his
- milk pails on his arm, and started for the barn, wearing a fine assumption
- of innocent obliviousness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, I. say, Uncle Paul,” called the lawyer, “what is the hour set for the
- lynching this evening?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lynchin’!” repeated the astonished man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, perhaps I don’t pick exactly the right word—-inquisition
- might hit it nearer. At the school house, I mean!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If that’s lawyers’ lingo for our deestrick meetin’,” replied the
- indignant farmer, “it’s set for ha’f-past seven.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You can drive back to the village,” directed the Squire as he passed
- Purday. The deputy had been comfortably lolling on the waggon seat, his
- legs hooked over the dashboard. “I’ll come along when I get ready. I ain’t
- afraid to foot it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The mellowness of the waning afternoon was chilled a bit by the first
- breeze of autumn that crept over the ledges of Nubble Hill.
- </p>
- <p>
- Squire Phin turned up his collar, clasped his hands behind his back, and
- started down the road toward the school house. The old dog Eli, who had
- been routed from under the waggon seat by the deputy, scuffed along the
- gutter through the dry grasses.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If there’s anything lonesomer, Eli, than outdoors at this time of year,”
- mused the lawyer, “it’s the empty chamber in some of the human hearts that
- we know about.”
- </p>
- <p>
- All the eyes of the little neighbourhood were watching the Squire when he
- turned in at the yard of the school house and disappeared in the
- entry-way.
- </p>
- <p>
- But it was chore time and supper time, and the Dunham district people went
- about their tasks, mumbling surmise as to what the Squire intended to do.
- Mrs. Micajah Dunham remained at Uncle Paul Appleby’s gate, her gimlet gaze
- still on the school house. There was nothing to see, but she didn’t have
- anything else to do. For the first time since she could remember she
- wasn’t busy with supper-getting at that hour of the day, and she was
- conscious of something lacking, something discomforting. Her hands
- twitched when she heard the rattle of dishes within doors. She looked
- across at the old home. There was no trail of smoke from the chimney.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Cold vittles is good enough for him,” she reflected bitterly. “I wisht
- he’d choke on what I’ve left cooked up.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Her hard gaze did not soften when she saw her husband come out of the
- cellar door, shoulders humped, dragging his feet spiritlessly, the milk
- pails dangling from his lifeless arms. A gray cat was at his heels.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t want Betsy to starve along with him,” grumbled Esther, and she
- called stridently, “Kit-te-e-e! Kit-te-e-e! Come, kit-te-e-e!”
- </p>
- <p>
- With a feline’s deference to one who has always filled the saucer for her
- the cat turned and scampered over to the Appleby house, tail up.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He ain’t even fit to associate with the cat!” snapped Mrs. Dunham, and
- she picked up the purring creature and switched into the house. But that
- uncomfortable hankering for occupation, that queer little feeling of being
- a fifth wheel, obsessed her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’m goin’ to slip on one of your aprons, Mis’ Appleby,” she announced,
- “and help you to get supper on.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now you jest set right down and fold your hands, Mis’ Dunham,”
- remonstrated the hostess. “I don’t expect boarders to do one namable
- thing. No,” she said hastily, stripping the apron from Esther before she
- could tie it, “I’ve sort of got my own ways ’round the house jest
- the same’s you have around yours, and there ain’t a thing you can do to
- help. You go right into the settin’-room and look over the album, or
- anything you’re a mind to.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Esther wandered into the other room. She reflected that she had always
- said the same things to “company” that tried to mess in. But the smug
- faces of the Applebys, enshrined between the plush covers of the album,
- palled on her. Nothing to do! She peered through the interlacing leaves of
- Mrs. Appleby’s geranium and a sob shook her. She was homesick, and she
- knew it. Her hostess, stirring briskly about her kitchen, made her long
- for her own domain of kitchen floor, even as a disgraced skipper hungers
- for his own quarter-deck. A boarder! A thing without authority, without
- aim or purpose! The clang of the oven door reminded her that Mrs. Appleby
- didn’t make cream of tartar biscuit exactly after her own receipt. How she
- would like to be back in front of her own oven door pulling out a tinful
- of those odorous, hot, crisply browned biscuit! But the reflection that
- Micajah would eat them made her snap her jaws together and wink the tears
- back from her eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- Yet she went out to the gate once more and watched to see if there was now
- any trail of smoke from the kitchen chimney. Then she stared at the school
- house, and her features hardened.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, I don’t understand it!” she murmured. “It ain’t been like ’Caje
- at all to do it! I can’t understand it!”
- </p>
- <p>
- She could control herself no longer. Despite the fact that she had
- stubbornly forced the issue herself, nagged on by the neighbours who had
- counselled her to stand up for her rights, she felt abandoned by the
- world. Her face puckered with the unsightly grimace of those who do not
- often weep, and the hot tears bubbled freely.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You don’t appear to be enjoying very high spirits, Mrs. Dunham.” She
- raised her head from the fence post with a jerk, for the drawling voice
- startled her. King Bradish’s rubber-tired carriage had made no sound on
- the dusty road. He had swung in upon the grass and sat looking at her, his
- elbows on his knees.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It ain’t any one’s business how I feel,” she retorted indignantly,
- ashamed at having been detected.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I heard down to the village that you and the old man had agreed to
- disagree,” he pursued, with that calm impertinence that Palermo called
- “the Bradish cheek.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t thank anybody to go peddlin’ my bus’ness ’round.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, you’d have to put Sawed-off Purday under bonds to keep his mouth
- shut if you don’t want legal business strung from Clew to Erie in this
- town. But what I can’t understand is, why you didn’t get a lawyer that
- would really put your case through. Phin Look never will. And he don’t
- intend to, because he told Purday as much.”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was malice in the glint of his eye.
- </p>
- <p>
- She clutched at the palings and projected her face at him over them.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You needn’t make up any such faces at me,” he said coolly. “It’s none of
- my business, especially, but I hate to see a man that poses as a lawyer go
- around fooling his clients.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Look here, King Bradish,” she cried, “I don’t know what Hen’ Purday is
- saying and I don’t care. But I do know that Squire Phin Look was here this
- very afternoon, and the libel was served on Mr. Dunham, and the Squire is
- down there in the school house this very minute talkin’——” In
- spite of herself her voice wavered, for she had been wondering with angry
- astonishment why her lawyer should go into so long a conference with the
- other side.
- </p>
- <p>
- Bradish slowly stretched up his arms and yawned. “Yes?” he drawled. “Down
- there with the school-marm, hey? Probably he’s telling her how the paper
- that was served on your husband to-day was only a dog-license blank, and
- they’re having a laugh, and he’s explaining how he will fix the thing up
- and fool you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She slammed open the gate and started down the road.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Jump in!” he invited. “You seem to be in a hurry, and I don’t blame you a
- bit.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A few moments later he snapped his hitch-weight into his horse’s bridle
- and followed the angry woman into the dusty entry-way of the little school
- house.
- </p>
- <p>
- Esther tore at the knob of the inner door and threw it open.
- </p>
- <p>
- Squire Phin sat in the little teacher’s chair. The little teacher was
- huddled on the floor at his feet, her head on his knee. He was stroking a
- shoulder that was quivering with sobs.
- </p>
- <p>
- At the woman’s first explosion the lawyer arose and put his arm around the
- teacher and led her toward the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will talk with you when you are in your right mind, Esther,” he said.
- “But this poor child has suffered enough from your tongue. Isn’t there one
- streak of womanhood left in you?” He put out his arm and gently pushed her
- from their path, leading the schoolma’am toward the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A pretty spectacle of a man you are, Bradish,” he gritted. “You’re
- trampling on a poor girl to strike a coward’s blow at me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- His face was gray with passion and his brows knotted above flaming eyes.
- He shouldered against the other and crowded him back into the entry-way
- and to one side. Bradish had his whip.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If it wasn’t for the presence of the ladies here, Look,” he cried, “I’d
- lace you till you howled.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bradish,” replied the Squire, “you’re hiding behind women now, like the
- cur that you are, and you have been hiding behind a woman for a good many
- years. Some day—but I’m a fool to stoop to your level. Come, child.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He strode away across the yard, the little teacher in the hook of his arm.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I guess you might as well take back your husband, Mrs. Dunham,” he heard
- Bradish cry after him. “Your lawyer seems to have cut him out.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VIII—SQUIRE PHIN ACTS AS PEACEMAKER
- </h2>
- <p class="indent15">
- I’m tellin’ ye what Eph Landers did
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- The time that he went and lost his fid.
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- He was yankin’ boulders a week ago—
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Tumble feller to hump and go!
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- He strung his chain round a rousin’ rock
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And found that he’d lost the little block
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- To catch the link; it’s used instid
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Of a hook and link and it’s called a fid.
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And the crack-brained critter—what do you think?
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Why, he stuck his thumb in the unhooked link!
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he school house
- was more than filled that evening.
- </p>
- <p>
- People came straggling up across the fields by short cuts, following
- lanterns that winked between the striding legs of the bearers. The nearer
- neighbours scuffled slowly along the road, bringing lamps and shielding
- the blaze with curved palms as they walked. The lanterns were hung on the
- nails about the cracked walls, part of whose unsightliness the little
- teacher had covered with the evergreen wreaths that she had plaited. The
- lamps were placed on the knife-whittled desks.
- </p>
- <p>
- The grown-ups painfully bent their knees under these narrow confines, some
- of them acting as though they were astonished that they were so much
- larger than they were in the old school days. Most of them hadn’t been in
- the school house since they had gone out with their tattered books in a
- strap so many years before.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It makes ye feel nearer the grave, don’t it?” whispered Salome Burpee to
- her seat mate of the old days, who had by almost unconscious choice sought
- the well-remembered desk.
- </p>
- <p>
- The seat mate, a tall, scrawny woman, was obliged to sit sidewise, for she
- couldn’t get her knees under the desk.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My, yes!” she replied rather mournfully. “It don’t seem hardly a day ago
- that I could sit here and swing my feet.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s my initial,” mumbled Deacon Burgess to Uncle Paul Appleby,
- fingering a deep nick in the edge of the desk. “They was new then, and I
- got walloped for cutting it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The men had gravitated to one side of the room, the women to the other.
- All whispered decorously if they had occasion to address one another, for
- in rural communities the usual gatherings are prayer meetings, and habit
- is strong.
- </p>
- <p>
- They discussed the report that the Squire had gone to the teacher’s
- boarding place with her, and would be present at the meeting that evening,
- and that he had talked “real saucy” to Mrs. Dunham, and that, too, after
- she had hired him for her lawyer.
- </p>
- <p>
- Esther sat grimly at the far side of the room in the girls’ reservation,
- and Micajah was hunched into a seat on the other side, his eyes staring
- straight before him. Neither exchanged a word with any other person in the
- room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I heard it hinted,” whispered the scrawny woman, “that Sylvene Willard is
- going to stick her nose into this thing. She has allus made more or less
- of ’Lize Haskell, and ’Lize has been one of her ‘Grit and
- Grace Girls,’ as she calls ’em.” The woman’s tone was scornful.
- “You can let Sylvene Willard alone to put more tomfool notions into a
- girl’s head in a minit than practical common-sense will weed out in a
- year. She’s got them girls meetin’ to her house Saturdays and readin’ a
- lot of ratted stuff out loud and writin’ papers and foolin’ with a lot of
- lit’ry sculch. I wouldn’t let my Minnie join in with ’em. I told
- her that there was too much readin’ and writin’ of tomrot in the world
- now, and if she wanted to read she could stay to home and read cook-book
- receets. It may not be quite so new-fangled and fash’nable as it is to
- read about furrin’ countries”—the woman’s lips curled and her
- nostrils spread—“but it is a blamed sight more to the point if a
- woman’s goin’ to amount to anything in this world and has got a husband
- and fam’ly—as she ought to have.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sylvene Willard better ’a’ taken one of her chances,” agreed
- Salome Burpee. “She can talk about loyalty to her parent and all sech till
- the cows come home. But the trouble was she was tormented afraid that the
- Judge might shine up to Number Two. I tell ye, them Willards is shysters
- after the dollars!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She might have gone furder and fared wuss than o ’a’ married King
- Bradish,” said the tall woman. “But you’ll find that she has liked to have
- the two of ’em taggin’ at her gown-tail. You can’t blame ‘Lize
- Haskell for thinkin’ it’s all right to be flirty.” Salome turned a
- cautious gaze to the stolid, hard face of Esther. Then she looked across
- to Micajah.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My land o’ Goshen,” she murmured, “it don’t seem as though that young gal
- would need to mess into a fam’ly like that. I’ve thought right along that
- there ain’t anything to it except that Esther is so set and determined to
- make it out that way.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I tell ye she’s a designin’ little critter,” retorted the tall woman.
- “And I want to see her boosted out of her job. If Sylvene Willard wants to
- stick and primp girls up and git ’em to readin’ furrin’ his’try and
- a lot of sculch, and gittin’ ’em all set up when their father’s
- nothin’ but a crazy pauper, so that they’re so nippy they have to talk
- polite lingo all the time, ‘yes, marm, yes, sir, our black cat!’ then I
- say let her take care of ’em. I want my Minnie to see that airs go
- before a fall!”
- </p>
- <p>
- A grating of wheels on the grit outside checked the whispers.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sylvena Willard came in, her cheeks flushed by her ride through the crisp
- air. The assembled inquisitors of the Dunham district instinctively knew
- that she was there as the teacher’s defender, and they surveyed her with
- disapprobation.
- </p>
- <p>
- But she nodded cheery little greetings here and there and sat down on one
- of the front seats with great composure.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Holds her age tumble well, don’t she?” mumbled Deacon Burgess, surveying
- the profile above the fluffy collar of her jacket.
- </p>
- <p>
- But Uncle Paul gazed at her grudgingly. “It ain’t the real Christians that
- go to Heaven on flow’ry beds of ease,” he grunted. “She’s had a pretty
- soft time of it all her life now, I tell ye.”
- </p>
- <p>
- At that moment the hush was broken by one of those solemn explosions that
- the irreverent call a “vestry cough,” and “Wolf” Doughty, so nicknamed on
- account of a swelling on his cheek, swung in his seat and suggested:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I reckon we might as well proceed to elect a moderator to preside this
- ev’nin’, whilst we are waitin’ for the defendant ’foresaid. Any one
- that has a mind on the subject will please say something.”
- </p>
- <p>
- At this hint Deacon Burgess was preparing to nominate Doughty, when there
- was a bustle in the entry-way and Squire Prin Look came in, blinking the
- outside gloom from his kindly eyes. The little teacher followed close in
- the lee of his generous bulk, her eyes downcast. The lawyer had carefully
- timed his late arrival, both on his own account and for the sake of the
- schoolma’am.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We’ll let ’em get settled on the roost,” he had told her, “and
- their first spell of cawing over and done with.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He lifted her chair from the platform and placed it so that she did not
- have to meet their eye-borings. Then he went up and calmly sat down in the
- visitor’s chair, the only seat on the platform, with an air of
- proprietorship.
- </p>
- <p>
- He crossed his knees and swung his dusty foot comfortably, oblivious to
- the frowns on the faces of Doughty and his adherents. The old dog beside
- him surveyed the audience with benignly extended jaws and rapped his tail
- as though it were a chairman’s gavel.
- </p>
- <p>
- The town of Palermo was accustomed to seeing the Squire at the head of all
- assemblages. For years he had been the natural selection of the voters at
- town meetings, after that hot caucus years before when he had defeated
- Judge Willard, who had been moderator so long that the office had almost
- become titular with him. It was a bold man who would get up now and
- suggest that some one else preside. The men stole embarrassed looks at
- each other, waiting for some one to take the plunge.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We’re wasting time, fellow-townsmen,” said the Squire briskly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We was jest gittin’ ready to choose a moderator when you came in,”
- growled Doughty.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Will you kindly make the nomination, Mr. Doughty?” directed the lawyer,
- keenly eyeing the man.
- </p>
- <p>
- Doughty, nervous under the general regard that was now fixed on him,
- gruntingly worked his legs from under a desk and stood up. He could not
- nominate himself, and he wouldn’t name a Dunham district man, for he was
- angry at the cowardice of the assemblage that had failed to obey his hint.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I think it is the general sense of the meetin’,” he mumbled, “that Squire
- Phineas Look serve as moderator, he knowin’ how—how——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I will accept the honour with thanks,” broke in the lawyer, rising. And
- as he stood there looking into their sullen faces he reflected, “You’re a
- cheeky old pirate, Phin, but it’s the only way to keep ’em from
- putting the little one on the rack.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Neighbours,” he began, “I’m going to start in by telling you a bit of a
- story. Once when I was a small boy my father had a flock of turkeys, and
- the only thing I owned in the Lord’s world then was a little rabbit about
- half grown. That was the time we lived over on the Ridge road; you
- remember, some of you older ones, the farm that father took up?” Several
- nodded. His tone was the social chat of an old friend. The initial
- stiffness that had oppressed the farmers and their women had begun to wear
- off.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, s’r, folks, that rabbit was about as cunning a little critter as
- you ever saw. Gracious, wasn’t I proud of him, though! He used to hop
- around the yard and nibble clover, and I liked to watch him. You know how
- a rabbit’s nose will flicker when he eats? Like a lawyer’s tongue in a
- horse case!” His listeners greeted this thrust at the profession with much
- hilarity. The Squire beamed an encouraging smile at the little teacher,
- and then for the first time since their nod of greeting he looked straight
- and long into the face of Sylvena Willard. Her brown eyes brimmed with
- appreciation.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, the little rabbit hopped about the yard where the big turkeys
- brustled and hustled and pecked and scratched. Rabbit was busy getting its
- living and didn’t mind the turkeys. And the turkeys didn’t pay much
- attention to the rabbit. But one day something peculiar happened. One of
- those hen turkeys made what you might call a mispeck at a grasshopper,
- happened to get hold of that little rabbit’s ear by accident, and that
- turkey was so surprised that she h’isted it right up and held on.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, it’s the nature of turkeys, when they see another one holding up
- something that seems like a good, tempting morsel, to close in on the run
- and get their share. So in they tore. First hen turkey, however run off
- with the rabbit. She thought it must be good to eat, seeing that all the
- others were after her hotfoot. When she had run as long as she could, with
- every once in awhile another turkey getting in a peck at it, she laid it
- down to take a peck herself, and the others crowded around, shutting their
- eyes and getting in their work, and before they knew what they were
- pecking at they had torn that poor little rabbit all to bits.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The audience blinked up at him, as yet hardly understanding the
- application of the allegory. He straightened till his head grazed the
- cracked ceiling.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Since then I have always had an eye out to protect the innocent little
- rabbits from excited turkeys, who most likely might be sorry after they
- realised what they were pecking at.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Esther Dunham interrupted him. She half rose from her seat and cried in
- shrill tones:
- </p>
- <p>
- “As near as I can ketch what you’re drivin’ at, Squire Look, you’re
- callin’ me a hen turkey and you’re flingin’ out that the rest of the women
- in this school deestrick are turkeys, too. I for one don’t consider that
- is a compliment, and I don’t propose to sit here and listen to any more of
- that sort of talk.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He smiled indulgently at her excitement and went on:
- </p>
- <p>
- “As old Anse Breed, the chicken thief, used to say, ‘It’s a wise fowl that
- doesn’t step off the roost on to the first warm board that’s stuck up in
- the night.’
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, we’ll just let the story I’ve told stand for what it’s worth. But
- you mustn’t expect me to argue in defence of such turkeys. And if you ever
- see an old gobbler named Phineas Look forgetting himself to any such
- extent you may throw just as many stones at me as you like till I come to
- my right senses.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You all know why you’ve met here to-night. All this gossip and guess-so
- and say-so has been thrashed over at back doors and front doors, upstairs
- and downstairs. I’ll not soil my tongue by rolling it in my mouth.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s the bus’ness of this meeting to bring out the evidence,” blurted
- “Wolf” Doughty.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Any time I need any assistance, Doughty, in running a meeting over which
- I am presiding I’ll call you in,” replied the Squire tartly. “Now, what
- are the facts? Here is a little girl—only a little girl—poor
- Ben Haskell’s ’Liza, born and brought up in this town. Her mother
- dead and her father worse than dead. She trying to earn her living
- honestly, taking care of the children that you’re glad to have out from
- underfoot, you women. Every day she has been sending them home to you a
- little better, a little sweeter, a little more honest and self-respecting
- for having been with her that day—and yet all of you are ready to
- turn and rend her at the first squawk of——
- </p>
- <p>
- “Look-a-here, Squire!” Mrs. Dunham was leaning over her desk, her thin
- hand vibrating at him. “You can go about so fur with me! Do you mean to
- tell this meetin’ that my husband——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sit down, woman!” the lawyer thundered.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This ain’t free speech!” clamoured Uncle Appleby. “A moderator ain’t got
- no license to choke off everybody here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- With one stride Squire Phin was off the platform. Indignation bristled
- from his shaggy gray locks and gleamed in his narrowing eyes. As he passed
- Sylvena Willard she gave him a look that was like a cup of cold water to a
- man in battle.
- </p>
- <p>
- He stood among them in the centre aisle.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have your moderators to suit yourselves!” he shouted, with a thump of his
- fist on the desk that made Uncle Paul dodge. “I’m down here now on this
- floor as a man that won’t see this innocent girl harried nor put out of a
- place where she is earning her honest living. Who are you, Esther Dunham,
- to analyse the emotions of the human heart? A self-operating dishwashing
- machine. What is your old husband that he can understand them, either? A
- doubled-over grub worm. The two of you hungry for something in your lives,
- you don’t know what! But you shall not shut your eyes and tear the
- innocent! Eleven thousand dollars in the banks, eh?” He snarled the words
- at them. “Rooted by your snouts out of the soil, and you never lifting
- your eyes to God’s sun and sky and open heart and loving eye and generous
- impulse. Oh, I know I am harsh and bitter! It is as hard for me to say it
- as it is for you to hear it. I am bitter toward all of you that live that
- way, and you in this town have always known my feelings. I dare to tell
- you the truths about yourselves, and only the sharp-pointed truth will dig
- into your hides. I dare to say to you, Esther Dunham, that you have
- maligned a pure and innocent girl who has minded her own business. I dare
- to tell you that you have trampled upon the torch of love in your own
- house until you have trod out every spark.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You wouldn’t let your husband love and do for his own child as he ought.
- He don’t know what is the matter with him, that’s the trouble. He has been
- bumping around like an old blind mule. He don’t know his own heart.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, all under God’s heavens he needs is the love of a child—a
- child, Esther Dunham. He has seen again in this poor girl the image of the
- one he lost. He has built another altar for his affections, and if it is
- outside of your own walls, blame yourself, Esther.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He clapped his finger smartly against his palm.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Wake up, ‘Caje! Wake up, my man! Can’t you see now what the hankering in
- your heart meant?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The old farmer tucked his head between his arms on the desk and wept
- weakly. His wife sat staring straight before her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Poor little girl!” softly said the Squire. He tiptoed back down the aisle
- and smoothed the little teacher’s curls. “Poor little girl! You have been
- ground between two hard millstones—and none of you knew, none of you
- knew.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He gazed long, silently and rebukingly over the assemblage. The people
- shifted uneasily, shuttling their eyes from him to the floor.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, who wants to stand forth as persecutor of this abused child?” he
- demanded, his hand protectingly on her head.
- </p>
- <p>
- No one stirred or spoke.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the silence he walked slowly up the aisle and bent down over the wife
- who stood staring into vacancy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Esther!” he said softly, and when she looked up at him after a time he
- gazed at her with his eyes softening.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Poor old mother!” He said it with infinite tenderness. He waited awhile.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It has been a bitter, cruel lesson that I have read to you,” he went on.
- “I am a harsh old tyrant when my feelings are stirred. But I would have
- defended just as stoutly your own little girl if she were here alone and
- you were sleeping over yonder there on the hill where her mother is.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He took her unwilling hand, and thereafter the eloquence that trembled on
- his lips was the soul outpouring of a man who has lived the life of human
- justice and generosity that he preached—and the woman knew it. With
- the skill of one who understood what quality of human nature lay under
- that tough New England exterior, he probed to the depths of her being,
- pulled away all the husks of selfishness that the years had piled, layer
- on layer, and reached the mother instinct.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Esther,” he said at last, “don’t you think you’ll look better with that
- softness you have now in your eyes when your ’Cilia meets you at
- the gate of Heaven? Why don’t you practise that look for the rest of your
- life? But you need something to practise on! There are lots of things that
- are going to waste up at your house since ’Cilia died. There’s love
- and tenderness, most of all. There’s the heart of a faithful man who has
- been yoked with you all these years, dragging at your mutual burdens. He
- wants a little love, that’s all. He wants that love from you, from no
- other. The two of you need something to soften your hard natures,
- something in common. You lost that when your girl died.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He hastened down the aisle. The little school-ma’am struggled a bit in his
- grasp, but with Sylvena Willard’s pat on her cheek and comforting word in
- her ear she went with him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, Esther, what have you to say to this poor little chicken—this
- motherless little girl? Look into her eyes! What have you to say?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The woman seemed to be awakening from some dream. She gazed about over the
- assemblage. Her eyes returned to the shrinking girl before her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was only the same way that my own father was good to me, Mrs. Dunham,”
- murmured the schoolma’am, tears streaking her cheeks. “I thought it was
- you that sent some of the little things, till you—-you——”
- Sobs checked her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Esther!” pleaded the Squire, “it’s awful lonesome up to your house!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The whole picture of her homeless misery that afternoon blended with the
- strange new light that had entered her soul. She clutched his arm and
- pulled him down, whispered a few words into his ear, and then caught the
- little schoolma’am in an embrace that proved that motherhood was burning
- in her once again.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire nodded his head and smiled sagely. Sylvena Willard was standing
- at the foot of the aisle as he passed, mist in her eyes, but a smile of
- earnest approbation on her lips that made his heart beat fast.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is a miracle, Phineas,” she whispered.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, no; it’s in all of ’em—in all of us, if you only know
- how to get at it,” he returned softly.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then he faced the silent people, who were blinking hard their blurry eyes.
- He ran the brim of his worn hat around and around between his fingers with
- an air that was almost embarrassment.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Neighbours!” There was a bit of catch in his throat. “Esther wanted me to
- tell you that the little school teacher has found a new mother to-night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He went out through the entry-way, and the old dog waddled down off the
- platform and followed at his heels.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Phineas!” Sylvena Willard caught him on the little platform of the school
- house. “How are you going to return to the village?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was reckoning to foot it, Eli and I.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “The boy brought me in our team. Won’t you ride with me? I want to talk it
- all over with you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He was about to accept, when out of the gloom to which their eyes were as
- yet hardly accustomed came a blur of lighter colour. It was the lining of
- King Bradish’s Goddard buggy, and Bradish leaned out and spoke to her, “I
- sent the boy home with your hitch, Sylvie. I’ve been waiting for you.” He
- climbed out and “cramped” the wheel. “Was your experience meeting worth
- all the time you put into it?” he inquired with a bit of satire.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You sent my carriage home?” she demanded indignantly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, it was the most natural thing in the world to do. There was no need
- of keeping the boy here when you are going to ride back with me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I am not going to ride back with you, King,” she said, recovering her
- composure. “I must withdraw my invitation to you,” she went on, turning to
- the Squire. “But you can return the compliment by inviting me to share
- your conveyance—Shanks’s mare, I believe the boys call it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But it is two miles,” remonstrated the Squire.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Only a pleasant stroll after the stuffiness of the school house. Come!”
- She seized his arm and brushed past Bradish, for the people were beginning
- to come out of the school house with their lamps.
- </p>
- <p>
- He overtook them a few rods down the road.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sylvie,” he said, walking his horse close to them, “I don’t propose to
- discuss this thing in the highway, but you certainly can’t be intending to
- walk home with this man, under the <i>circumstances</i>.” He dwelt on the
- last word.
- </p>
- <p>
- She did not reply, but continued to chat to the Squire, who plodded on,
- dumb and confounded at the turn affairs had taken.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I shall tell your father!” drawled Bradish, venom in his tone.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tell him whatever you think will be the best for all concerned,” she
- replied with fully as much significance.
- </p>
- <p>
- They heard him lashing his horse cruelly as he turned the corner into the
- Cove road.
- </p>
- <p>
- But during the walk to the village his name was not mentioned between
- them.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER IX—SUMNER BADGER MAKES A WILL AND, UNWITTINGLY, A DISCLOSURE
- </h2>
- <p class="indent15">
- “A man there was who died of late
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Whom angels did impatient wait,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- With outstretched arms and smiles of love
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- To take him to the Realms Above.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- “While angels hovered in the skies
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Disputing who should bear the prize,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- In slipped the Devil like a weasel
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And Down Below he kicked old Keazle! ”
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- —An Epitaph by “Rhymester” Tuttle.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he Squire had
- pulled his arm-chair into the centre of the broadest patch of sunshine
- that carpeted the dusty floor of his office. The light flooded his book’s
- pages until he almost closed his eyes, but he welcomed sunshine this
- morning. It fitted into his mood. When Brickett started his coffee-grinder
- there was a certain rhythm about it that set the Squire to whistling.
- “Hard-Times” Wharff was playing on his tin flute down in the yard of the
- little brown house behind the currier’s shop, the music serving as his
- daily relaxation from his meditations on astronomy. Usually the monotonous
- “toodle-oodle” irritated the Squire. This day he tapped time with his
- finger on the open page.
- </p>
- <p>
- He wanted to say something aloud and he glanced up at the “Creosote
- Supreme Bench.” No, that wasn’t the right kind of an audience! He looked
- down at the floor. Eli’s steadfast, worshipful gaze caught his. The dog
- rapped his tail genially.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Eli,” said the Squire, smiling at him, “when you load your gun to bring
- down a particular human heart, there isn’t any telling how many others the
- scatter-fire will hit.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then for a little while he sat and dreamed over that walk home along the
- Cove road, past the pines that whispered and along the shore where the
- waves seemed to follow them with a sort of a dance step. And neither of
- them had said a word about love during all the long walk!
- </p>
- <p>
- In fact, Squire Phin hadn’t said much of anything. It was so good to hear
- her voice. Since he had talked to her that August day across the iron
- fence he had been afraid she would think that he was whining and
- sentimental. To be sure, he reflected, his feelings had been cruelly
- stirred that day, and that was some excuse; and then, too, he had waited
- ten years to say even the little that he did say. He was rather proud that
- he hadn’t raked up the old topic during the walk. This was the pride of
- New England reserve that distrusts over-much lip service. It had been hard
- to hold in sometimes along the way, when she praised his courage in
- handling the affair in the Dunham district and showed her appreciation of
- other things that he didn’t know she had heard about.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I suppose some men would have taken advantage and pestered her again with
- love-talk,” he had pondered as he walked away from the iron gate of the
- Willard place, “but I reckon I’ll never get fussed up enough again to
- bother her that way. It’s a tough thing for a woman to feel that she can’t
- walk with a man without his everlastingly dinging away his own troubles
- into her ears—and—and there may be a time when she will walk
- with me again if she realises that I know enough to keep my mouth shut.”
- </p>
- <p>
- All of which might indicate to those versed in such matters that Squire
- Phin Look understood litigation better than love-making, which has its own
- court days, its calendar for service, its notice and its set time for
- appeal. He, however, felt that he had played the part of chivalry.
- </p>
- <p>
- So the morning had seemed fair and he had slapped Hiram on the back at
- breakfast time and had hummed a tune as he walked to his office, and
- everything had seemed to be music, even the mournful cooing of
- “Hard-Times’s” tin flute.
- </p>
- <p>
- And when old Sumner Badger came dragging up the stairs and into the
- office, and dolorously announced that he was going to die inside of two
- days and wanted to make his will, the Squire leaned back in his chair and
- laughed, to the indignant disgust of old Sumner.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If there’s anything funny about my havin’ a call to the Speret Land I’d
- be much obleeged if you’d ’loosidate it, Squire Phin Look.” There
- was a scowl on the old man’s yellow face, and his shock of white hair
- bristled.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Die!” echoed the Squire; “why, Sum, who talks of dying with the sun warm
- overhead, and the waves sparkling out yonder in the Cove, and even Asa
- Brickett’s coffee-grinder down there playing dance music with every twist
- of the handle? Never say die, Sum.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I donno what’s happened to chirk you up so’t you giggle at your
- neighbour’s solum warnin’s as have come to ’em, nor I don’t care a
- ding, Squire Look, but it ain’t right to mix in your own joys with others’
- sorrers.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A close observer might have seen in the lawyer’s countenance a flicker of
- contrition, as though he had suddenly remembered that every man in Palermo
- didn’t have such cause for joy as he.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sun a-shinin’, you say!” went on Badger, grimly. “Yes, and a sun-dog each
- side of it like wings on a bat, and a-showin’ that we’re goin’ to have a
- line gale that will blow the knot-holes out of apple trees. Waves
- sparklin’, hey? Porgy scum from that stinkin’ Cod Lead fact’ry that
- they’ve stuck under our noses out our way. Music in a coffee-grinder! And
- Brickett chargin’ three cents more a pound for Rio than he ever done.
- There’s some as can laugh at a fun’ral, but they ain’t got no good wit.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I never laughed yet at anybody’s troubles, Uncle Sum,” said the Squire,
- gently; “but you and I, with life still in us, don’t know the day and the
- hour of our passing out. You’re not going to die.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You think you know more about me than my guardeen angel, do you, hah?
- When my guardeen angel comes a-rappin’ the death knock on my headboard
- night after night I know what it means.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire remembered that Badger was a Spiritualist of fervent faith. He
- made no comment.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Three times at our circle Mis’ Achorn has seen a shroud around me and
- angel hands beckoning over my head. You ain’t denyin’ that Mis’ Achorp is
- the best medium in this country, be ye?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mrs. Achorn is, probably, a good and well-meaning woman, Sum, I have no
- doubt; but if I were you I wouldn’t let any one scare me into conniptions.
- It doesn’t pay.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know what I’m talkin’ about,” persisted Badger. “I want to make my
- will.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There’s no reason why you shouldn’t,” the Squire replied, and he pulled a
- long sheet of paper from the drawer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I allus like to know prices before I buy. What will sech a dockyment cost
- me?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Sumner Badger was known widely as the “closest figgerer” in Palermo. He
- often boasted that he had never been extravagant in his life except once
- when he bought five cents’ worth of peppermint-drops for a girl. He was
- young then, he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She set and et the whole mess right down, one after the other,” he
- frequently related, “and that fixed me with <i>her</i>. I wouldn’t have no
- sech extravagance as that in a wife and so she lost her chance. I went and
- got me a woman that knowed how to make things spend for what they was
- wuth.” And on their little farm, denying themselves everything except the
- barest necessities, the couple had amassed their little competence.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire eyed the old man’s sun-faded clothes and his knotted hands and
- his seamed, gaunt face, yellow with bile, and he pitied this slave who had
- half-starved himself, in the midst of his herds and his harvests.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Poor old gaffer, you’ve sold your cream all along and drunk the skim
- milk,” he reflected—“a life ordeal worse than Tantalus went through,
- for Tantalus couldn’t reach what he was hungry for, and all you have had
- to do was to stick out your hand and dip into bounty.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He looked long at Badger, his shrewd eyes twinkling with the humour that
- replaced his momentary pity. Then he answered the old man’s question.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’m willing to be reasonable, Sum. Now, what would you say was a fair
- price for drawing a will?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lawyers’ money comes dretful easy,” growled Badger. “’Tain’t like
- diggin’ it out of a farm.” He pondered, screwing up his eyes and
- calculating. “I should say if you’d draw up one that couldn’t be busted
- I’d be willin’ to pay a shillin’.” He made a move to draw his wallet, but
- the lawyer put up his hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ll tell you what I’ll do with you, Sum. If you’ll carry home to-day a
- good big piece of steak and eat it with your wife—lots of butter on
- it—I’ll draw your will for nothing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Badger surveyed him dubiously and with sullen suspicion.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We don’t go much on meat vittles to our house—not with beef prices
- stuck ’way up where they be.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s my price. And it’s got to be sirloin, not round.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The lawyer saw by the expression on Badger’s face that he had anticipated
- the old man’s prompt thought as to quality.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Steak’s steak, ain’t it?” he muttered. “I never heard of payin’ a
- lawyer’s bill in no sech fashion, but”—he sighed—“I’ll do it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And aren’t you going to thank me into the bargain?” demanded the Squire.
- “I usually get five dollars, at least, for a document of this sort.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I reckon it’s lib’ral as law goes, Squire.” He suddenly warmed a bit.
- “You’ve been reasonable with me. Now I’ll do something for you. You’ve
- allus kind of cocked your nose up at s’p’tu’lism. I know it. You needn’t
- tell me! Now it’s goin’ to be worth something for you to reelly know
- whether there’s anything on the Other Side. So after I arrive there and
- git a little bit wonted to the place I’ll come back and appear to you and
- tell you all about it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, no, Sum,” expostulated the lawyer, his face serious. “I couldn’t
- think of asking you to take all that trouble for a hard old nut like me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But a word from you to the people—you bein’ prominent—sayin’
- that you’d seen me—materialised, mebbe; known by knocks, anyway—and
- I’d said ’twas so-and-so, would carry a good deal of weight and
- prove that I ain’t been no dum fool to b’lieve in s’p’tu’lism. I say, I’m
- comin’ back and appear to you and you needn’t think it’s anything
- strange.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire leaned forward and shook his finger at Badger.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let me advise you on one point, Sum. This advice isn’t going to cost a
- cent. Now, if you ever get so much as one foot into heaven—even get
- your fingers through the crack in the door, you stay right there. Don’t
- you ever take any chances on coming away to visit. They might get to
- asking leading questions about you the next time you came back to the
- door.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You don’t mean that for a slur, do you?” The old man’s face hardened.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let’s get to the business of drawing the will before we go to talking
- personal, Sum. I don’t have the same ideas as you on some ways of living.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He wrote the usual heading at the top of the page, dipped his pen and,
- suddenly looking Badger in the eye, asked bluntly:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I suppose it all goes to the wife so long as she lives, and after her to
- your niece, seeing that you have no children. To ’Liza Haskell,
- poor Ben’s girl, I mean?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The old man shook his head with determination.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What! you aren’t going to leave it to your only niece—your dead
- sister’s child—a little girl that——?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “This is my will and it’s my own property that I’m willin’,” interrupted
- the farmer. “You can make it short and right to the point. It’s all goin’
- to be turned into cash when I die, and Mirandy will git the interest as
- long as she lives, to be paid to her by the trustees that I shall name.
- Then the whole is goin’ to pay for a monnyment over my grave.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Squire Phin leaned back and stared at the old man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yess’r, a monnyment with my statoot on top and poetry about s’p’tu’lism
- carved around the bottom. I’ll show ’em that has scoffed and
- sneered that there is more to it than they thought.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But how do you prove anything by putting, say, ten thousand dollars into
- such infernal foolishness as that?” stormed the Squire.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It will show that one man believed in it thirteen thousand dollars’ wuth—and
- that’s all he had and what he’d worked for all his life,” persisted the
- farmer, stubbornly. He stood up and cracked his fist on the table.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, you can’t change my mind on that one jot or tittle, Squire Phin
- Look. You put it into any kind of lawyer lingo that will stick, and mind
- your own business.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire completed the writing without further comment, but his face was
- stern and he drove his pen into the inkstand with violent thrusts. Badger
- during the writing informed him that he wanted him to be one of the
- trustees. The lawyer paused and frowned at the old man as though he were
- intending to refuse, then inserted the name.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I want you to take these notes,” went on Badger, “and figger the
- interest up on ’em and put ’em in your safe and keep ’em.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He passed across the table a dog’s-eared bank-book with a few papers
- between the leaves. The Squire examined them without particular interest.
- There were half a dozen for small amounts. But at sight of the last he sat
- up straighter, studied the document with increasing attention, turned it
- over and over, and then stared at Badger, arching his eyebrows.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where did you get hold of this town note?” he demanded.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I lent good money for it. I got it right from the man whose name is
- signed at the bottom—and he’s been town treasurer of Palermo for
- thirty years. I reckon you know him!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Seven thousand dollars!” muttered the Squire. “Why, this town hasn’t——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There ain’t nothin’ out of the way, is there, about me havin’ a town
- note?” Badger went on. He paused a moment, then added, “So long as you’re
- my lawyer and one of the trustees and I’m goin’ to die and shan’t be
- lendin’ the money any longer, I tell you that’s a good way to let your
- money out—on a town note.”
- </p>
- <p>
- For the first time since he had come into the office his face twisted into
- something like a smile. He leaned forward and whispered:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Says the Judge to me, ‘You keep right still about how you’ve lent this
- money to the town and you won’t git taxed. So long’s it’s between you and
- me it won’t git onto the assessors’ books.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire had the note spread before him and was studying it, his hands
- clutched into his thick hair, his elbows on the table.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yess’r, the Judge says, ‘You’re a friend of mine, Sum, and so long’s you
- keep still you’ll git your six per cent, and not be taxed on it!’ But
- there ain’t no need of keepin’ still any longer. I shan’t need extra
- int’rest. You can collect as soon as I’m dead.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sum,” said the Squire, slowly lifting his eyes to the old man’s face—eyes
- in which there was a sort of shocked bewilderment, “I don’t want you to
- say anything about this note. It isn’t to be talked of.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I’ve told Figger-Four Avery about it,” cried Badger, looking scared.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Figger-Four Avery!” Squire Phin shouted the name. “Why, you might as well
- have put it into the <i>Seaside Oracle</i>. What do you want to go
- blurting your affairs for?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He was inquirin’ on bus’ness for your brother Hime,” faltered Badger. “He
- said Hime was borryin’ and lendin’ and was willing to pay seven per cent.
- Figger-Four is clerkin’ for Hime and gittin’ facts and figgers for him,
- and you know it jest as well as I do.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, I don’t know——” but the lawyer checked his exclamation,
- setting his lips hard. He put the bank-book and the notes away in the
- safe.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s best for you to keep your mouth shut about this,” he said curtly to
- the old man who followed his movements with frightened stare. “I won’t
- answer for what may happen to you otherwise.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He threw up the window and looked out. Uncle Buck and Marriner Amazeen sat
- on the store platform, their chairs tilted back. They were the lawyer’s
- regular stand-bys as witnesses of legal papers, and came upstairs at his
- call.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your will, hey?” observed Buck as he pulled his spectacles down from his
- forehead and looked over the paper preparatory to signing it. “I allus
- thought you cal’lated on takin’ it all with ye, Sum.”
- </p>
- <p>
- When his eyes fell on the writing designating the purpose to which the
- estate was to be applied, he snorted, “Well, it’s about as I reckoned,
- after all. That’s the next thing to luggin’ it away to Kingdom Come.” He
- read the clause aloud to Amazeen.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Statoot to be life-size?” that individual blandly inquired.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It will be as big’s there’s money for,” replied Badger, stiffly. “It will
- be sculped out from my photograft and I reckon the sculper can make me
- nine feet high. There’s risin’ thirteen thousand to do it with.” He gazed
- at his auditors with triumph.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Le’s see!” pursued Amazeen, reflectively, “that would make your ear about
- as big over as a chiny nappy. Before you’ve been standin’ there two days
- them cussed sparrers will set up housekeepin’ in both ears. And a robin
- will have a nest under your arm, and there’ll be a crow settin’ on your
- head ha’f the time. You want to add a codicil there providin’ for about
- four scarecrow windmills set around over you. You’re goin’ to be almighty
- uncomfortable if you don’t. A statoot with twine string and feathers
- sticking out of the ears ain’t going to attract no particular admirin’
- interest.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If the citerzens of this town stand round and see a thirteen thousand
- dollar monnyment get all cluttered and gurried up, then they ain’t got no
- more public sperit than quahaugs,” cried Badger.
- </p>
- <p>
- Amazeen took Uncle Buck’s place at the table and proceeded to affix his
- signature. While he wrote he said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mebbe you think you’ve done enough for this town so that the citerzens
- will stand out there in the grave-yard, turn and turn about, and keep the
- flies off’n that statoot with a feather duster! But I’m more inclined to
- think that the youngsters will do it with rocks.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Badger replied to the sally with violent language, and the debate was
- becoming acrimonious when the Squire brusquely advised them to continue
- their dispute out of doors. His tone was harsher than usual, and his face
- was troubled. The old men went out, Amazeen shouting further directions to
- Badger, who hurried ahead, advising lightning rods and fire extinguishers
- and other appurtenances. Uncle Buck greeted each suggestion with a cackle
- of laughter. Squire Phin heard them pursuing their furious victim across
- the square, but he listened with abstracted frown, though at another time
- the grim jests might have amused him.
- </p>
- <p>
- He took the town note out of the safe and examined it again. Then he
- pulled down a bundle of small pamphlets bearing the cover inscription,
- “Town Reports of Palermo.” He studied them with care and at last leaned
- back in his chair and gazed long at the ceiling.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I,” he said, softly, “were town treasurer of Palermo and had borrowed
- seven thousand dollars simply on my own name as treasurer, after the town
- had voted that two of the selectmen should sign with the treasurer on town
- loans, and had continued to pay six per cent, for that money after the
- town had voted to refund all floating indebtedness at four per cent., and,
- finally, still owed that seven thousand after making oath in my last
- report that the town owed less than two thousand dollars, why, I—I
- couldn’t explain it to myself, much less to the voters of this town.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Brickett began to grind coffee again.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t the people of this place buy anything except coffee?” growled the
- Squire, jumping up and striding around the office. The noise racked his
- nerves now.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It can’t be,” he muttered. “It’s some mistake or—or——”
- The recollection of certain gossip he had heard a year before at the
- county court regarding alleged dealings in stock by “a prominent Palermo
- man” and his losses occurred to him, and he remembered that he had stoutly
- averred that no one in his town ever dealt in stocks. He knew that people
- outside were usually the first to hear of such things, but this was a
- story that he didn’t believe. This note was there on his table—a
- document that demanded explanation—a document that could be
- explained by a desperate man’s financial stress and in no other way. Men
- did not take such chances for amusement.
- </p>
- <p>
- Aquarius Wharff’s little flute piped away insistently.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What a devilish nuisance that old fool is!” the lawyer growled, and he
- went along and slammed down the window.
- </p>
- <p>
- Who properly should demand that explanation? Himself as town agent.
- </p>
- <p>
- Brickett was now unheading a barrel, and the clamour made the Squire pound
- his table with a boyish and futile rage. Every noise jarred on him and the
- sun didn’t shine in at the windows any longer.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was no doubt about his duty. The note must be shown to the
- selectmen. He picked it up, put it into his pocketbook, hesitated at the
- door, then hastily went back to the safe, tucked it into the most remote
- pigeon-hole, slammed the safe door and whirled the lock knob vigorously.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, sir,” he muttered as he went down the stairs, “this isn’t a thing to
- prick with a crowbar. It needs a fine needle. There’s a woman to be
- considered first, and, by the gods! there’s no steer-team of selectmen
- going to walk over her to get to her father—no matter how the land
- lies.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He stopped at the foot of the stairs and looked back at his office door
- with a singular air of apprehension, as though he had left there some ugly
- and hideous object.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, it can’t be.” He stamped his foot upon the turf. “It isn’t the
- Willard stripe to do a thing like that. He’s a hog, but not a thief. I
- guess I’ll go and sit under the old poplars and think about it a bit.”
- </p>
- <p>
- As he walked along the street he remembered what Badger had said about his
- brother Hiram’s activity in the matter of that town note.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER X—HIRAM LOOK PULLS IN SIMON PEAK FROM THE FLOTSAM OF LIFE
- </h2>
- <h3>
- FOR GOOD AND SUFFICIENT REASONS
- </h3>
- <p class="indent15">
- Foster the tinker traversed Maine
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- From Elkinstown to Kittery Point,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- With a rattling pack and a rattling brain,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- And a general air of “out of joint.”
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- A gaunt, old chap with a shambling gait,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- A battered hat and rusty clothes,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- With grimy digits in sorry state,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- And a smooch on the end of his big red nose.
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- That was the way that Foster went—
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Mixture of shrewdness and folly blent,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Mending the pots and pans as ordered,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- But leaving the leak in his nob unsoldered.
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- —From “Ballads of the Wayfarers.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>iram was on the
- porch in his favourite attitude, his chair tipped against the wall, his
- tall hat on the back of his head, his thumb hooked into the armhole of his
- vest. He rolled his cigar across his tongue and looked at his brother with
- a sidewise, suspicious glance as the Squire sat down on the edge of the
- platform. The lawyer remembered suddenly that he had seen that look on
- Hiram’s face frequently of late. It was the wary expression of a man who
- feared that he might be called on to defend himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thought I’d run up to the house and sit down for a spell, Hime. The
- loafers down there get on my nerves once in a while.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire noted the instant relief on Hiram’s face. The cigar rolled back
- to the other corner of his mouth and perked itself with new assurance.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t blame you, Phin. That’s why I keep away from Brickett’s. I can
- jaw ’em off the premises, here, when they get to bothering me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The old woman whom Hiram had insisted on adding to the household as maid
- of all work snapped her dishcloth at the ell window and began chatting
- with “Figger-Four” Avery, who was varnishing one of the vans. Avery sat
- down on the cart tongue and gave her his full attention.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Avery is a fair sample of ’em,” continued Hiram, jerking his head
- to indicate his servitor. “There ought to be only three days in the week
- for fellers like him and the rest round here—a rainy day, Sunday and
- pay-day.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It wears on a man like Avery to get up before breakfast and work between
- meals,” observed the Squire, drily.
- </p>
- <p>
- At this little jest of his brother’s, Hiram recovered all his composure.
- It was evident that the Squire wasn’t bringing that dreaded “bone to
- pick,” he reflected.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’m goin’ to have old Skip-bug, there, give the whole outfit a
- goin’-over, new gilding, new paint, varnish, and a clean scour. Prob’ly
- I’ll be takin’ to the road again next season, Phin,” he said, with a sigh.
- “I’ve been studyin’ it over for quite a spell. I’m get-tin’ to realise
- every day that you’ve drifted your way and I’ve drifted mine, and the
- things I talk about don’t hit you and the things you talk about——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’m a pretty dry, prosy chap to be a companion to one who has seen the
- world as you’ve seen it,” the Squire finished the sentence.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, it ain’t that, Phin,” blustered Hiram. “The idea is you’ve got
- education and I ain’t, and I never shall have. There’s only brass and
- bellow to me, slam-bang like a circus band. So I guess I’ll have
- Hop-and-fetch-it give the gear a slickin’ and I’ll be movin’ on.” He set
- his hat down over his eyes and smoked hard.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire did not reply for a time. He had unclasped his jack-knife and
- was meditatively jabbing it into the decayed wood of the porch platform.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The Looks are no great hands to make a lot of soft talk to each other or
- anybody else, Hime,” he said at last. “But I want to say to you that I
- really hoped you were home to settle here. Half of the house is yours to
- do with as you like. Neither of us will bother the other one—I
- hope!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram gave him another of his suspicious side-glances.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ve heard that you have been making quite a number of investments in
- town and were looking for more, and so I supposed you had decided to camp
- here. I wish you would, Hime.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, I don’t like to have money ’round idle, that’s all,” growled
- his brother. He waited a moment and then, studying the Squire from the
- corner of his eye, he said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I suppose the old fools ’round here are makin’ all kinds of talk
- about my lettin’ out a little money. I ain’t said anything to you about it
- ’cause I reckoned you had business enough of your own to think
- about.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I find enough in my own affairs to keep me busy, Hime. But”—he
- turned his gaze full upon his brother—“I’ve found time to wonder why
- you’ve been trying to <i>borrow</i> money from old Sum Badger.” Hiram
- growled an oath, brought his chair down on its four legs with a clatter,
- and half rose, with a malignant eye boring the back of Avery, who was
- unsuspiciously swabbing his brush on the side of the van.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, it isn’t Figger-Four’s mouth this time, Hime. I’ve been drawing up
- Sum’s will and he told me about it and left his notes with me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Now that the Squire’s gaze showed that he understood the situation,
- Hiram’s apprehensiveness gave place to bravado.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And what do you think of that town note that shows that your high and
- mighty treasurer is a—is—well, whatever the law name is, I say
- ‘thief’?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am perfectly well able to attend to the business of my clients, and I
- am not prepared to discuss their private affairs just yet,” returned the
- Squire, tartly. “It comes pretty near bein’ a town affair, and as I’ve
- never gained residence anywhere else and am a voter here and have got
- investments here, it comes pretty near bein’ my affair, too.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There are good and sufficient reasons why I don’t want this old family
- feud carried on any longer, Hiram.” The lawyer stood up, clacked his
- knife’s blade shut and shoved it into his pocket.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I know what the reasons are and I say you’re a devilish fool to have
- ’em,” cried his brother.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have lived in this town all my life, Hiram”—the Squire preserved
- his temper, though the other was already bristling with wrath. “I intend
- to live here much longer. I am ready to resent injury just as quickly as
- you are. But this keeping alive an old fight, when there have been
- provocations on both sides, is folly and will lower us both in the
- estimation of the public. I say, you are not going to tramp over innocent
- persons to get at the object of your grudge.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram stood up and kicked his chair off the porch.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Allow me to remind you—not to twit, but to speak the plain truth—that
- you seem to have waked up pretty late to the fact that you had any
- vengeance to attend to in this town.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And that’s just it,” shouted Hiram. “I stayed away and let the wickin’ be
- put to you and father. You’ve been ground into the dirt and mallywhacked
- and spit on, just on account of me. The Look fam’ly has been muck under
- foot for some folks. And even now, after all that’s past and gone, that
- old wolf would have my ha’slet out of me if he could get it. There’s a
- debt due to the Looks, compound int’rest piled on compound int’rest, and
- by the jumped-up Judas Is-carrot, I’m goin’ to collect it, Phin. You may
- as well stand out of the way.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He strode about the little yard before the porch.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And besides all that, he’s stealin’ from this town, and you know it,”
- cried Hiram, stopping in his march for a moment.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There’s other redress for that besides persecution,” replied the Squire.
- “It isn’t our business as Seth Look’s boys.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It <i>is</i> our bus’ness. And it’s more yours than it is mine. You’re
- the agent of this town. You’re the man the people trust to see that
- Palermo gets what’s her just dues. You know she is bein’ robbed. Now,
- Phin, you either go to work and find out why old Coll Willard is borrowin’
- money secretly on town’s notes, and you put it before the people in the
- right and proper way as you know how to do, or, by mighty, I’ll do it my
- way and then you’ll see how you stand before the people—you that’s
- hidin’ a note that you know is crooked.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram stopped before his brother and breathed hard in his passion. And now
- the Squire’s repression began to give way. The obstinacy of this stormy
- petrel of the Look family was maddening.
- </p>
- <p>
- But, fortunately for both, the unhappy quarrel was interrupted. For some
- moments there had been approaching behind the alders at the turn of the
- highway a queer medley of sound—squeaking of whiffle-tree, yawling
- of dry axle and over all a peculiar moaning. Now a vehicle like a van came
- in sight. The brothers stood and watched it as it approached them. Avery
- came hobbling with brush in hand and gaped his surprise.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, P’lermo’s took this time, sartin sure,” he gasped.
- </p>
- <p>
- ’Twas almost a little house on wheels. An elbow of stove funnel
- stuck out of one side. An old chaise-top was fastened by strings and wire
- over a seat in front. Dust and mud covered everything with striated
- coatings, a mask eloquent of wanderings over many soils.
- </p>
- <p>
- A bony horse, knee-sprung and wheezy, dragged the van at the gait of a
- caterpillar.
- </p>
- <p>
- Under the chaise-top was a hunched-up elderly man, gaunt but huge of
- frame, his knees almost at his chin. Long, grizzled hair fluffed over his
- shoulders, and little puffs of white whiskers stood out from his tanned
- cheeks. A fuzzy beaver hat barely covered the bald spot on his head. The
- reins were looped around his neck. Between his hands, huge as hams, moaned
- and sucked and snuffled and droned a much-patched accordion. To its
- accompaniment the man sang words that he fitted to the tune of “Old Dog
- Tray,” trolling lustily at the end of each verse, “An honest friend is old
- hoss Joe.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Whoa, there! Whup!” screamed Hiram’s parrot, swinging by one foot.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ain’t you kind of workin’ a friend to the limit, and a little plus?”
- inquired Hiram, sarcastically. The old horse, at the parrot’s command, had
- stopped before the gate, legs straddled, head down, the dust rising in
- little puffs as he breathed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Joachim loves music,” said the stranger, with a mild smile. “He’ll travel
- all day if I’ll only play and sing to him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Love of music will be the death of Joachim, then,” commented Hiram,
- briefly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Is there a hostelry near by?” asked the other, lifting his tall beaver
- hat politely. In the atmosphere of rough-and-ready Palermo the little
- action seemed an exaggeration. With satirical courtesy Hiram lifted his
- hat—and at the psychological moment the only “plug” hats in the
- whole town of Palermo saluted each other.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There’s a hossery down the road, and a mannery, too, all run by old
- Fyles.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Crack ’em down, gents,” rasped the parrot. “Twenty can play as
- well as one.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The man under the chaise-top pricked up his ears and cast a rather
- startled look at the plug hat in the yard. Plug hat in the yard seemed
- suddenly to recognise some affinity or comradeship in plug hat under the
- chaise-top. The Squire saw only another of those fantastic wanderers who
- occasionally went dragging through the village, peddling their wares. He
- backed slowly to the porch and sat down. His brother trudged out into the
- road and walked around the outfit, his nose elevated with a curiosity that
- was almost canine.
- </p>
- <p>
- At last he planted himself in the highway before the man of the
- chaise-top, his knuckles on his hips, his eye flashing under brows
- wrinkled with thought, and stared long and silently.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who be I?” he demanded at last.
- </p>
- <p>
- The stranger surveyed him for a long time, his head drooping lower and
- lower, until it was hugged between his shoulders.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You,” he huskily ventured, “so I should jedge, though I ain’t seen you
- for a good many years, you—I should say—you——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, up and out with it!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You are Look’s Leviathan Circus and Menagerie, H. Look, Proprietor.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You win a cigar,” assented Hiram, with a snap of his head. “And as for
- you, you’re Sime Peak, billed as Mounseer Hercules, and I’m glad you
- called when you came along.”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a grim significance under his words that made the stranger
- flinch.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let’s see!” pursued Hiram, his eyes narrowing, “it’s quite a while to
- remember back, but didn’t you throw up your job with me kind o’ sudden?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The man on the van scratched a trembling forefinger through a cheek tuft.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t exactly recollect how the—how the change came about,” he
- faltered.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, I do!” Hiram came close and wagged a forefinger up at the man. “You
- ducked out across country the night of that punkin freshet, when I was
- mud-bound in that pennyr’yal settlement and the elephant was afraid of the
- bridges. And you took my dancin’, turkey outfit and a cage of monkeys and
- a few other things that didn’t belong to you, and—<i>her!</i>” He
- almost shouted the last word, and then looked around with sudden
- apprehension that he was overheard by his brother. But the Squire sat on
- the porch without apparent interest. “What became of her, Sime Peak?”
- demanded Hiram, hissing the words at him. He seized a spoke of the old,
- dished wheel and shook the vehicle impatiently. The spoke came away in his
- hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never mind it,” quavered the man. “It ain’t nothin’. We’re all comin’ to
- pieces, me and the whole caboodle. But don’t hit me with it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He was eyeing the spoke in Hiram’s clutch.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What did you steal her for, Sime Peak?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There isn’t anything sure about her goin’ away with me,” the other
- protested weakly.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram yanked away another spoke in the vehemence of his emotions.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t you lie to me!” he snarled. “The both of you done me when I was
- tied up with my circus clear’n to the hubs in mud. Mounseer Hercules of
- the curly hair!” he snorted, and ran a sneering gaze over the outfit. “She
- wouldn’t chase you very fur now. You took her, I say, a girl I’d lifted
- off the streets and made the champion lady rider of—and was goin’ to
- marry and thought more of”—another cautious look at the Squire,
- “yess’r, thought more of than I did of anyone else in the world. What did
- you do with her?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, I was startin’ and she wanted to go along and so I took her aboard.
- She seemed to want to get away from your show, as near as I could find
- out.” The giant hugged his knees together and blinked appealingly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It must be a bang-up livin’ you’re givin’ her.” Again Hiram disdainfully
- surveyed the equipage.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Seems as if you hadn’t heard the latest news,” broke in Peak, his face
- suddenly clearing of the puckers of apprehension. “She never stuck to me
- no time—honest to Gawd, Look. She only made believe she was goin’ to
- marry me. It was so I’d take her along. She ducked out with ev’ry cent of
- the sixteen hundred I’d saved up and run away with Signor Dellybunko—or
- whatever his name was—who was waiting for her along the road.
- Honest, I ain’t seen hide nor hair of her since, nor I don’t ever want
- to,” he rattled on eagerly, “and I’ve still got the letter that she left
- for me, and I’ll prove what I say. She said in it that she’d been plannin’
- to do the same thing with you, but she had made up her mind that you
- wasn’t as easy as I was and she couldn’t work you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram’s shoulders straightened and he pulled his trailing moustaches with
- a bit of swagger.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She was out just to do someone so’s she and Dellybunko could get away
- with the stuff,” insisted Peak.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She says so in the letter, and you was smart and I was easy—that’s
- all!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s the old army game, gents!” squawked the parrot. He cracked his beak
- against the bars of the cage.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram shoved his hands into his pockets and with a sort of meditative air
- of conscious superiority kicked another spoke out of the wheel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hadn’t you just as soon tear pickets off’n the fence, there, or something
- of that sort?” wistfully asked Peak. “This is all I’ve got left, and,
- honestly, I’ve never had no great courage to do anything since she run
- away with that sixteen hundred. I never had no great enterprise and
- ability like you’ve got, anyway. I just went all to pieces.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He scrubbed his raspy palms on his upcocked knees.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I didn’t really want to run away with her, Hiram, but she bossed me into
- it. I never was no hand to stand up for my rights. I could lift weights
- and let ‘em crack a marble block on my chest, but anyone with a limber
- tongue could allus talk me ’round—and I guess they allus can.
- I wish she’d stuck to you and let me alone.” His big hands trembled on his
- knees, and his weak face with its flabby chops had the wistful look one
- sees on a foxhound’s visage. “When did you give up the road?” he asked,
- evidently willing to change the subject.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Haven’t given it up,” snapped Hiram, scowling. “There’s the waggons over
- there, and the round-top and seats are stored, and I’ve got my elephant.
- I’m liable to buy a lemon and a square hunk of glass and start out again
- ’most any time.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram couldn’t help winking his good eye at his old partner in
- “shenanigan,” though his face hardened again the moment after. Peak
- chuckled fulsome appreciation, Still eager to placate, he said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t suppose you really have to.” He blinked watery eyes at Hiram’s
- big watch chain with its bunch of charms, and at the ring on his thick
- finger, with its blazing stone.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Forty thousand or so in the bank and plenty more out at int’rest,”
- returned Hiram. He put both thumbs into the armholes of his vest. Then
- with the patronising air of the “well-fixed” he inquired:
- </p>
- <p>
- “How are you gettin’ your three squares nowadays?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lecture on Lost Arts and Free Love, mesmerise and cure stutterin’ in one
- secret lesson, pay in advance,” Peak explained listlessly. “But there
- ain’t the three squares in no such graft in these times. I ain’t got your
- head. I wish I’d been as sharp as you are and never let a woman whiffle me
- into a scrape.” Hiram glowed with the same warmth that he felt when
- “Figger-Four” daily regaled him with stories of how Myra Willard made life
- miserable for Kleber with her tongue and her folly. This gossip had been
- “Figger-Four’s” first recommendation to the notice of the showman, and
- Avery had sagaciously pursued it. Hiram now looked up at the man on the
- van with a pride that was gloomy, but none the less apparent.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nobody ever come it over me,” he said in low tones, with a side glance to
- see that Avery didn’t overhear. “Still, another way you look at it, she
- did come it over me and so did——” He suddenly checked himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But she didn’t come it over you,” insisted Peak. “I’m the one she come it
- over, and look at me!” He made a despairing gesture that embraced all his
- pathetic belongings. “You’re the one that’s come out ‘unrivalled,
- stupendous and triumphant,’ as your full sheeters used to say. If I was
- any help in steerin’ her away I’m humbly glad of it, Hime, for I allus
- liked you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This gradual assuming of the rôle of benefactor was not entirely to
- Hiram’s taste, as his frown indicated, but the constant iteration of
- admiration for his shrewdness and good fortune was having its effect. The
- old grudge ached less. It was like having opodeldoc stuffed into a bad
- tooth. Hiram felt as though he would like to listen to a lot more of that
- comforting talk. Moreover, his showman’s heart was hungry for some of that
- association of the old days and for a chance to swap old stories.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sime,” he cried with a heartiness that surprised even himself, “you’re a
- poor old devil that’s been abused, and you seem to be all in.” He surveyed
- the wheezy horse and kicked another spoke from the wheel.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Crack ’em down, crack ’em down, gents!” squalled the
- parrot.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If it wasn’t for Absalom, there, to holler that to me with an occasional
- ‘Hey, Rube!’ I don’t believe I could stay in this God-forsaken place
- fifteen minutes. There’s no one here that can talk about anything except
- ensilage and new-milk cows. Now, what say, Sime? Store your old traps
- along o’ mine, squat down and take it comfortable a little while. I reckon
- that you and me can find a few things to talk about that really amount to
- something.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The man on the van unhooked the reins from around his neck and let them
- fall to the ground. But he still hesitated to climb down.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I should hate to feel that I was a burden on you,” he faltered. “But if
- there’s any stutterers around here I might earn a little something on the
- side to help out on my board.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Me with forty thousand in the bank takin’ board money from an old friend,
- or lettin’ a guest of mine graft for his livin’?” snorted Hiram. “Not by a
- blame sight! You just shut up and h’ist yourself down here and help me
- unharness old Polyponeesus.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram introduced his guest to his brother with curt brevity.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I guess I’ll do as you hinted this mornin’ about takin’ the other
- half of the house, Phin,” he said. “I don’t want any friends of mine to be
- underfoot for you. As long as you suggested splittin’ off, I’ll do it. Old
- Aunt What’s-Her-Name can do for both of us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I didn’t mean it that way, Hime,” said the Squire, earnestly. “Your
- friends are my friends and we can all get along comfortably together just
- as we are.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’d ruther have the side-show privilege than a share in the big show,”
- persisted the stubborn relative; “it’s your proposition, and I can take a
- hint.” The presence of Peak and his mute suggestion of the old
- associations were already having their effect on Hiram’s undisciplined
- temperament. He had begun to wonder before this if getting acquainted
- again with a brother after so many years was altogether a success. He had
- been a bit ashamed in spite of Phineas’s candid forgiveness; this calm,
- earnest, educated man made him feel ill at ease. Suddenly, he realised
- perfectly why he had clutched at this stroller and hauled him into this
- haven.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram always acted first and reflected afterwards. He knew now that he had
- seized upon this man to hold him between his brother and himself, as he
- would have interposed a shield. He had anticipated that his brother would
- interfere in his resolution to “make Coll Willard curl.” For weeks he had
- been dreading the hour when Phineas would come to him for an
- understanding. No man knew better than he what the Look grit was, and as
- he had fully made up <i>his</i> mind to carry out his plan of vengeance,
- and realised that the Squire would as vigorously oppose him, he had been
- trembling each noon and night for many days, as he sat upon the porch and
- watched the lawyer’s approach.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now he stood up close beside the amiable giant.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sime and me is pretty close chums, Phin,” he said, “and we shall be
- together all the time talkin’ mighty busy, and it ain’t in no ways right
- for us to be gabblin’ round where you be and takin’ your mind off’n your
- business. So I’ll have another cook-stove set up in my part and we won’t
- trouble you a mite.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He took Peak by the arm and drew him away with some eagerness.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I want you to come in and see if Imogene remembers you, Sime. Then we’ll
- look over the carts.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Avery had been crowding up closely, mutely appealing for an introduction.
- His jealousy was aroused by the attention that was shown to this new
- arrival, and he followed them toward the barn as they started away.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Say, look-a-here, Figger-Four,” said Hiram, whirling on him and speaking
- with a gruffness that wounded Avery’s devoted heart, “you get back onto
- your job, there, and you mind it dern close from this time on. I don’t
- want you trailin’ me no more. You keep your place after this.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The cripple stood gazing after Hiram until he had slammed the barn door
- behind him. Then he settled slowly down upon his short leg and turned to
- the Squire a face on which there was astonishment as well as grief.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Seems like I never seen a changeabler man,” he observed.
- </p>
- <p>
- The lawyer looked at the discarded companion a little while, and the poor
- fellow’s distress was so sincere that he pitied him, even in his own
- sorrow.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t mind it too much, Avery,” he said. “Hiram has had a good many
- things happen in his life to sour him and spoil his disposition. Some day
- he’ll find out who his real friends are and then you and I will have our
- innings.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He put his hands behind his back and walked into the house, and Avery went
- on with his varnishing. At first his strokes were slow and his face was
- melancholy. But as he pondered on his insult, his brush flicked faster and
- soon he was slapping away at a lively gait, keeping time to a song that he
- hummed, the last two lines running:
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- “Good boy Phin, he don’t raise time,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- But pepper sass is hot and hell’s in Hime."-
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XI—THE COMBINATION THAT PROVED TOO MUCH
- </h2>
- <h3>
- FOR SQUIRE PHIN’S “LOOK TEMPER”
- </h3>
- <p class="indent15">
- “Let cats and dogs delight to fight,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- For ’tis their cross-patch natur’ to;
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- To wallop humans is not right,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- But—wal, there’s things ye have to do!”
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- —From “Meditations of Deacon Burgess.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he next morning
- the Squire was busy at the cook-stove at daybreak. He had joyfully turned
- old Aunt Rhoda over to Hiram’s <i>ménage</i>, and he relished the idea
- that he could resume his own way of living. As he tied on his canvas apron
- he reflected contritely that perhaps he was feeling a bit too good about
- being alone again. It wasn’t wholly brotherly.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then in his mind he laid it all to Aunt Rhoda’s cooking.
- </p>
- <p>
- She had frizzled the bacon into black chips and fried the steak until it
- would do for a boot-tap, and when the Squire had expostulated, had
- defiantly told him that he’d better stick to his law books and not try to
- tell her, after sixty years at the cook-stove, how to get up “a mess of
- vittles.” She had obliged him to eat huge hot dinners at noon that made
- him as sleepy as a stuffed anaconda for hours as he sat in his arm-chair
- in the office, trying to read his books. She had expected him to make out
- a supper on plum preserves and hot cream of tartar biscuits, and he had
- already felt the first gnawings of dyspepsia.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now for my steak!” he said aloud. It was a generous slice, thick as a
- cushion and bordered with the cream-hued fat that Aunt Rhoda obstinately
- threw away when she pared his steak into thinner slices in order to fry
- them into parchment-like strips.
- </p>
- <p>
- It sizzled on the grid cheerily, the coffee—with its heaping
- “measure for the pot” and two for himself—gave forth an odour that
- promised better than the old housekeeper’s slaty-hued brew, and he was
- just cracking his eggs for his omelet when there was a rap at the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire called an invitation over his shoulder, and the visitor came
- in. It was the Mayo youth. His hair, that was usually slicked so smoothly,
- was tousled and it hung in strings about his face. He had evidently run
- all the way up the street, for he was out of breath and panted with open
- mouth like a dog as he thrust toward the Squire a bit of paper that he
- pinched by one corner.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lay it down on the table,” directed the lawyer, shortly. “Can’t you see
- that both my hands are full?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The young man stumbled toward him and shoved the paper into his hands,
- evidently unconscious that the Squire had spoken. It fell into the bowl
- and the lawyer picked it out gingerly, muttering his ire.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mayo then grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, trying to utter
- intelligible speech, but he could only blubber and hiccup.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You infernal calf,” stormed the lawyer; “sit down in that chair and get
- your breath and let me alone!” He pushed the youth across the room and
- plumped him down with a thud that snapped his open jaws together.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She’s gug-gug-gone, Squire Look!” Mayo managed to squeak.
- </p>
- <p>
- The lawyer shook the paper to free it of the egg, looking ruefully toward
- his bowl as he did so. Then he read the note, his brows knotting.
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>Deer Wart: my laddy mother has come for me & i have had to go with
- hur. i have gorn into a brighter wurld. soe yon needent hunt for me corse
- i shant ever be found, with love Rissy.”</i>
- </p>
- <p>
- “She’s dead,” squalled the husband, staggering to his feet. “She’s jumped
- into the water somewhere. You know ev’rything, Squire.7 You’re the only
- friend I’ve truly got to find her for me.” He seized the lawyer by the arm
- and tried to drag him away.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sit down, I tell you!” commanded the Squire, and again he thrust the
- young man down into the chair. He read the letter again.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you shown this to anyone else?” he demanded.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, not to a soul. I’ve run right to you, Squire. I know you can find
- her, but she’s dead. Oh, where has she gone?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “She may have gone straight up or she may have gone straight down,”
- growled the lawyer. “What are you sitting there gaping and goggling like
- that for? When did she go? When did you miss her? Did she take her
- clothes?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I woke up this morning and found her gone,” wailed the youth. “She went
- in the night. She’s dead. She’s gone with her lady mother jest as she said
- she’d do.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you ever say lady mother to me again I’ll cuff your ears,” stormed the
- Squire. “Or if you mention this to anyone until I give you permission I’ll
- boot you clear to Brickett’s store and back again. Do you think you
- understand that?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” whimpered the youth.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not to a soul! Finding your wife depends on it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Can’t I go drag in the Potter brook?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You stay here in this house. You are going to eat some of this breakfast
- first of all.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I never can eat nothin’ more till she’s found,” wailed Mayo, with a
- canine whine in his nose.
- </p>
- <p>
- But when the meal was on the table the Squire hustled him to a chair
- beside it and roared at him until he ate.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It will never do for me to say one word of sympathy to the poor devil,”
- he pondered as he eyed the pitiful creature munching his food.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I loosen one bit he’ll be climbing all over me like a hungry dog. The
- only way to handle him is to cuff him when he stands up on his hind legs.”
- </p>
- <p>
- While the Squire ate he pondered.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She went with Cap Nymphus Bodfish on the packet, that’s how she went.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He glanced at the clock.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Eight,” he mused. “Half the time since he has put in his auxiliary power
- Bodfish doesn’t sail until nine. If he got away early this morning it
- signifies something, that’s all! It isn’t the first time King Bradish has
- hired him for dirty work.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He started up and took his hat from the hook. “Wat,” he said, “you stay
- here and wash up my dishes and make yourself useful until I come back.
- Don’t you stir out of this house and don’t you say a word to anyone about
- your wife being gone. If you disobey me I’ll quit you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He hurried out of the house and down the street.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was necessary to go almost to the packet’s berth to determine whether
- she was there, for the elms loomed high along the shore road. No masts
- showed above the storehouse when he came in sight of it, but to assure
- himself the Squire walked out on the wharf and peered around the corner of
- the building. The packet’s berth was empty and there was no sign of her on
- the narrow sea line at the mouth of the cove.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hard-Times” Wharff stood by one of the hawser piles, looking to sea.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wisht I was a garsoline ingine instead of a weather-vane, Squire Look,”
- confessed the old man, regretfully. “The wind it bloweth where it listeth,
- sayeth the Scriptur’s, but”—he sucked his tongue to imitate the
- explosions of an engine, “tchock! tchock! tchock! Garsoline don’t have to
- wait and list. It can go any time, day or night. I wisht I knowed better
- how it works, but Nymp’ Bodfish wouldn’t let me aboard this mornin’ to see
- how it does it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did he get away early, Uncle Aquarius?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was down here at four to see whuther the sunrise was goin’ to be pink
- or yaller, ’cause you know a yaller sunrise follerin’ on sun-dogs
- means——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let the weather stand for a moment,” broke in the Squire, a bit
- impatiently. “What time was it when Bodfish sailed?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Break o’ day, no wind but garsoline, oil on the heave, and ‘Hard-Times’
- went aboard with him wrapped in a shawl. And he wouldn’t let me come on to
- see the tchock, tchock, tchocker.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire’s suspicions required no further confirmation. He hastened away
- up the wharf.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The sneak!” he hissed through set teeth. “The pup!” But he did not refer
- to Captain Nymphus Bodfish of the “Effort.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The man that was in his mind was just tying his horse at the post in front
- of Brickett’s store, and as the Squire approached, hurrying up the road,
- he shook the dust from his gloves and started leisurely along ahead of
- him, blandly oblivious of the other, to all appearances.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good-morning, Bradish,” said the lawyer, curtly, as he came up behind
- him. He slackened his pace for a moment. Then he set his lips as though to
- hold back something that he had intended to say, and hastened past.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Business seems to be rushing with you this morning,” observed Bradish,
- with his tantalising drawl. The Squire walked on.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I say, Look!” The man’s tone was insolent. The lawyer’s evident anxiety
- to avoid him spurred his bravado. “You’ve put your nose into my affairs
- this time so far that you can’t pull it out by dodging me.” The Squire
- held up and the man came close to him. “What do you mean, Bradish?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I mean that the other evening you made me the laughing-stock of the
- gossips of this town by stepping in between me and the lady I was
- escorting. You have compromised her, and now her father——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Look here, my fellow,” roared the lawyer, “my family isn’t a very patient
- one, and you have got to about your limit with me. I never intended to
- pass another word with you, for it’s getting to be dangerous for both of
- us. But when you talk of my companionship, compromising any lady, I’m
- going to put you before your own eyes as just what you are in a community.
- You’re a low-lived, dirty hound that this very morning has stolen another
- man’s wife and sent her away by Bodfish’s underground railroad, as you’ve
- done once before if the truth were known.” Bradish’s face was purple with
- rage, but he looked the Squire straight in the eye.
- </p>
- <p>
- “So you’ve become a lunatic along with your other qualifications! Now tell
- me what you mean or I’ll post you for a blackmailer.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I mean,” blurted the lawyer, “that it is your money that has hired
- Bodfish to carry Rissy Mayo out of town to-day, and it’s your money that
- she has in her pocket to pay railroad fare from Square Harbour to the
- place where you’re sending her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Bradish snapped his fingers under his accuser’s nose.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That for your slander!” he cried. He started along the walk, but whirled
- and came close to Look. “There’s one thing I want to say to you,” he
- growled, “and it’s this—you seem bound and determined to plaster me
- with slander and it’s beneath my dignity to defend myself. And now you are
- working up a plot against me. You have heard that I was going to leave
- to-night for New York on business for Judge Willard and myself, and——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have heard nothing of the sort,” retorted the Squire, his eyes gleaming
- dangerously.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I say you have, and you must know I am going to his house now to discuss
- it. But no matter about that. I say you have engineered a plot against me,
- Look. You have fired that girl out of town and now you’ll turn around
- to-morrow and take advantage of a business trip that I must make and
- assert that I have run away with her. But I want to tell you now”—in
- his passion he drove his palm down on the lawyer’s shoulder—“if you
- dare to insinuate such a thing I’ll put you into State prison for criminal
- libel. I shall at once explain your dirty trick to Judge Willard and his
- daughter. And”—he drew back and looked at the Squire with malice in
- his eyes—“I shall furthermore tell Judge Willard what interest you
- have in this Mayo woman whom you have married off to a fool in order to
- hide your own guilt, you cheap apology for a man and lawyer.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire stood immovable and stared at the man, his lips moving
- wordlessly. But language refused to come.
- </p>
- <p>
- For a few crowded seconds he almost admired the impudence of Bradish’s
- bluff, yet its masterly audacity fairly paralysed him.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the storm of his feelings words seemed useless. The thought of his own
- impotence of defence, with this assailant in possession of Judge Willard’s
- ear and confidence, the memory of his own sorrows of waiting, the woes of
- the Mayo youth, whirled in his brain like torches. His fist tightened into
- a hard lump, his arm throbbed and itched, and the next moment, with a
- grunt, the Squire struck forward.
- </p>
- <p>
- For the first and last time in his life Squire Phineas Look knocked a man
- down, and for one wild moment the primal Adam in him gloried in the act.
- He stood above Bradish with his arm poised and his fist smarting.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then he looked up and beheld Sylvena Willard gazing at the miserable scene
- from the piazza of the big house.
- </p>
- <p>
- And he held down his head and walked away up the street, the hot flush of
- shame on his face, a sob in his throat, and the gray blur of tears
- replacing the red blur that had flamed there a moment before. He glanced
- back once and saw Bradish going to her with his handkerchief pressed to
- his face.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram and his new friend were taking the air on the porch when he came
- into the yard of the Look place. He tried to avoid them, but his brother
- called to him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We saw you do it, Phin,” he said. “’Twas good work, but what had
- he done to you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, Hiram,” mourned the Squire, “don’t make light of a terrible deed. Oh,
- the Look temper—the Look temper! Thank God there are none of the
- blood to follow us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He stumbled into the house with the feeble step of an old man.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XII—THE LIVELY FIRST APPEARANCE OF “THE LOOK BROTHERS
- </h2>
- <h3>
- CONSOLIDATED MENAGERIE AND CIRCUS”
- </h3>
- <p class="indent20">
- “Allus was bound to grab right in,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- That was the cut of old Seth Blinn.
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Finger was stuck in ev’ry pie
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Or else he’d know the reason why;
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- But when he quit how people swore,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- For things was wuss’n they was before.”
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- —Ballads of “Queer Capers.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">B</span>y Judas,” remarked
- Hiram, admiringly, to Peak for the tenth time since they had observed the
- astonishing contretemps in the road, “I’m proud of that brother of mine. I
- didn’t know ’twas in him. I was afraid he was only lawyer and
- nothin’ else.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He relighted his cigar. “I’ve got to own up to you, Sime, that we wasn’t
- gettin’ along together the best that ever was. I thought he had got soaked
- with too many sissy notions, and there’s nothin’ that makes a circus man
- so sick as sissy notions. You know that! But I tell you, Sime, if he can
- do a job like that and only holds out now as he’s commenced, him and me is
- goin’ to get along fine after this.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He seemed to be feelin’ awful bad when he went into the house,” remarked
- Peak, solicitously.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I didn’t notice it,” cried Hiram; “well, if that’s the case, he’s got to
- be chirked up. I don’t want him to lose any of his grip.”
- </p>
- <p>
- And he hurried around the corner and entered the kitchen.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What’s the matter, Phin?” he cried, bluffly. “There’s something on and
- you might as well out with it. It’s the Looks together against the world—and
- you know what the family is!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Enough of that, Hiram!” roared the Squire, thumping the table at which he
- sat deep in thought, as his brother came in. Dishes fell off and were
- smashed on the floor. He kicked the fragments impatiently. “The Looks are
- rowdies, plug-uglies and street brawlers, and we ought to be ashamed to
- lift our heads in the presence of decency and refinement. The trouble with
- you is, you’re too much of a fool to know that you’re cheap—that
- we’re all cheap. That’s the word—cheap!”
- </p>
- <p>
- But Hiram’s good nature was not to be disturbed that morning.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You’re one of the good old breed, even if you are chewed up just this
- minute,” he replied cheerfully. “And whatever’s goin’ on now I’m goin’ to
- be in it, Phin, and you can’t shake me. I’m your brother and you can’t cut
- me out. Now, what is it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was not to be resisted, this frank and honest anxiety to be of use, and
- the Squire was sorely in need of counsel and aid. With a glance at the
- Mayo youth; who was rubbing listlessly away at a saucepan, his misty and
- unseeing gaze fixed on the far hills framed in the kitchen windows, the
- lawyer drew his brother out of the room into the yard.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What’s the matter with your friend, Phin?” inquired the showman. “He acts
- like a wax figger with clock-work in him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The lawyer explained rapidly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You ain’t goin’ to stop her, be ye?” asked Hiram when he had listened.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’m not goin’ to let that hound break up that little family,” insisted
- the Squire. “Look at that poor, heart-broken boy in that kitchen and then
- tell me if he is to be robbed in such a fashion.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, he’ll beller like a new-weaned calf for a day or so,” said Hiram,
- calmly. “But he’ll get over it and be better off, like the rest of us,” he
- added with bitterness. “I’ll go and tell him a few things and show up what
- women are in this world and give him a couple horns of whisky and in an
- hour I’ll have him singin’ ‘Glory, hallelujah,’ and glad she’s gone.” He
- started away briskly, but the lawyer pulled him back roughly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “One member of our family has tried an experiment on that poor devil and
- it has half-killed him. Now don’t you go in there and finish the job.
- You’re not an expert on heart matters, Hime.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, I’ll fetch her back, then,” cried Hiram, unabashed. “You can have
- anything you want. It’s only to say the word.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire looked at him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bodfish won’t land her this side of the railroad at Square Harbour, of
- course?” asked Hiram.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bodfish isn’t a deep knave,” said the lawyer. “He simply got away early
- to avoid observation at this end. He will land her there probably for the
- one-o’clock train, west.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Simple matter, then. Telephone the police to arrest her and lock her up
- till we come.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And have the scandal and gossip and disgrace spread from here to
- Hackenny, and the <i>Oracle</i> and people’s mouths full of it! That would
- be saving the reputation of the Mayo family with a vengeance, Hiram.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The showman took off his tall hat and fondled the bare spot on his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, it’s got to be a fly-by-night, come-back-by-dark job, eh?” he
- observed. “Disappearin’ lady trick! Touch the button and she’s gone. Touch
- the button and back she comes. You only think she’s gone and she ain’t
- been gone at all! A very pretty little trick—-and thank you kindly
- for your attention, ladies and gents, one and all!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It isn’t any time to joke, Hiram,” complained the Squire. “I must ride
- across country and get that girl. The old mare can’t do it. Will you lend
- me one of your horses?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The showman turned a quizzical gaze into his brother’s pained and puzzled
- eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now you think I’m a hog, don’t you, Phin? But I ain’t. I’m your brother
- Hime, gruff and tough, but always ready in a time of trouble when the
- famly’s concerned. Now you just stay here and keep your wax figger in
- there from falling down and bustin’ in two and lettin’ all that’s inside
- him run out. You understand! You want the celebrated invisible lady trick
- worked at Square Harbour, eh? Then you for your job and me for mine! There
- are some things that <i>you</i> can’t tell <i>me</i> how to do.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He trotted clumsily around the corner and entered into earnest
- conversation with Peak on the piazza. Both men hurried to the barn.
- </p>
- <p>
- Squire Phin gazed after them with some anxiety. He had often had good
- reason to doubt Hiram’s tact. He dreaded to have that hot-headed
- individual start on a mission where so much finesse was required. And yet
- he hesitated about undertaking the task himself and leaving the blundering
- and irresponsible husband to stir up the village, as he certainly would do
- if left to his own devices.
- </p>
- <p>
- The youth was at the sink, still rubbing the same saucepan.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He might stand there till night unless some one poked him,” mused the
- Squire. “I must take chances that Hime can manage him while I’m gone. I
- can’t let anyone else do the job at the other end. It needs——”
- </p>
- <p>
- He had been pondering the matter longer than he had realised. The tumult
- of gruff shoutings in the barn and in the rear, where the circus equipment
- was stored, in its new building, had been increasing. Now around the
- corner of the barn, with clank of whiffle-tree and jingle of harness and
- ruck-te-chuck of axle boxes, came one of the vans, smart in new paint and
- varnish. Four horses were drawing it.
- </p>
- <p>
- Across the yard they came on the trot. Hiram and his friend loomed on the
- box, and their plug hats loomed above them.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She’ll come back invisible, Phin,” called Hiram, swirling his whip above
- his head to uncoil the lash.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You’re not going after that girl in any such outlandish fashion,” roared
- the Squire, running from the door-stoop.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t bother us,” shouted Hiram, and he cracked the lash over the heads
- of the rearing leaders. “We’ve got less than four hours to make
- twenty-five miles and there ain’t time for conversation. You for your job,
- me for mine.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire was obliged to leap back out of the way of the plunging horses.
- But he ran after the van as it roared down into the road, yelling appeal
- and protest.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We’ll fix it,” Hiram shrieked over his shoulder as the horses began to
- gallop.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire stopped in the middle of the road, shaking his fists after the
- turn-out as it went around the bend at the alders in a cloud of dust.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fix it, you damnable fool!” he gasped in his impotent rage. “You’ll fix
- it forever. Of all the infernal idiots in the way of a brother that a man
- ever had! Roaring through Square Harbour with a circus cart and four
- horses! Oh! Oh!”
- </p>
- <p>
- In his fury—the Look fury of which he was so ashamed—he kicked
- a stone out of the soil, picked it up and cast it after the distant van,
- which was now far out of sight.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A secret errand,” he muttered, blushing at his juvenile act. “It will be
- a wonder if he doesn’t get out hand-bills.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Avery’s voice behind him made him turn quickly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’m pesky glad you’ve driv’ the two of ’em out of town,” he said,
- with grim satisfaction. “There wa’n’t either of ’em any good to the
- place, and I’m sayin’ it to you, even if one of ’em is your own
- brother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire walked back into the yard without replying. “Figger-Four”
- hopped along beside him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ve come up to resign,” he continued. “I wish I could have told him so
- to his face. I was goin’ to inform him that I wouldn’t work another hour
- for him, not if he was the Great Kajam of Pee-ru and paid me five dollars
- a second. He owes me two dollars and a half as it is, and I want you to
- collect it for me, Squire.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My brother hasn’t gone away,” snapped the lawyer from the door-stoop. He
- wanted the man to leave.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If that wa’n’t goin’ away, then what do you call it?” squealed Avery,
- snapping up to his full height and pointing his hand at the turn of the
- road. “He wasn’t comin’, was he, with his four hosses and his circus
- cart?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You go home and keep still,” commanded the Squire. “Hiram will be here
- to-morrow and will pay you if he owes you anything.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He went into the kitchen and slammed the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If the Looks can’t act out hogs when they’re a mind to, then I don’t want
- a cent,” growled Avery, scowling at the door. “But they ain’t goin’ to
- cheat me out of two dollars and a half, not if the court knows herself,
- and she thinks she do.”
- </p>
- <p>
- After another surly look at the closed door he went around the barn. The
- other vans were in their usual place.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There’s property enough left. I can sue and attach,” pondered the
- creditor.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Another thing about Hime, he’s a durn liar,” he went on mumbling. “He’s
- been telling me right along that his el’phunt is so much in love with him
- that she’d make a kick-up if he went away and left her. She ain’t makin’
- no great stir near as I can see.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He peered in through the big door at the rear of the barn.
- </p>
- <p>
- Imogene had evidently been roused from her ordinary contemplative and calm
- mood by the routing out of the horses and their hasty departure. She stood
- now, twitching her ears impatiently and listening with an occasional
- hollow grunt of distrust. She peered at the four empty stalls with
- uneasiness in her little eyes and surveyed the four horses that still
- remained, with something like reassurance. Then she listened some more. It
- was evident, even to so obtuse an observer as Avery, that she was
- momentarily expecting the showman to come back for the other horses, and
- so long as they remained she considered them proof that she was not
- abandoned.
- </p>
- <p>
- Avery decided that this was so, muttering his convictions to himself as he
- stood and watched her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’m a blame good mind to try her,” he said. “I don’t believe she gives a
- tophet for him, any more’n anyone else in the world does. I can prove him
- out a liar along with the rest, and I’ll tell the folks so. I’ll run him
- into the ground! You watch me! There’s folks that think as how they can
- set on Sam Av’ry, but I’ll show ’em that they can’t—not, and
- keep their reppytations. I’m only a poor cripple and I can’t fight the way
- some folks do, but I’ve got a tongue in my head, and as soon as I’ve
- proved some things you jest watch me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Thus soliloquising, he led the four horses, one by one, out of the barn
- through the rear door, knotted their halters around their necks and sent
- them down into the field with a slap on the flank. They frolicked away,
- glad of a run in the open.
- </p>
- <p>
- When the last one went out of the barn the elephant said good-bye with a
- melancholy “roomp.” She surged once more at her chains and the sill beams
- creaked. Then she settled back and eyed Avery hopefully when he came close
- to her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He’s allus told me you was more’n half human,” said Avery, addressing
- her. “It’s prob’ly more of his lies. I’ve heard him talkin’ to you and he
- said you could understand human language. Another lie prob’ly. But if you
- can understand, then take this and chaw on it a spell; your man has run
- away and them’s his horses gone a-chasin’ after him, as you can see for
- yourself. He ain’t never comin’ back any more. He’s robbed four banks and
- killed three men and you ought to be ashamed of him. They’re goin’ to
- build a treadle for you and make you run a thrash-in’ machine and earn
- your livin’. There! If you can understand human talk there’s something
- that will int’rest you for a minit or two.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He stood back and gazed at her triumphantly.
- </p>
- <p>
- The animal had been lifting her feet uneasily for some moments. Now she
- gazed out through the door where the horses had disappeared and moaned
- pitifully. With the sagacity of a veteran she seemed to sniff the fact
- that her master was not on the premises. To assure herself she raised her
- trunk and began to trumpet the call that he had always answered. After
- each echoing roar she hearkened. No reply came, and each succeeding appeal
- was more insistent and more frantic.
- </p>
- <p>
- Avery backed to the door with considerable precipitancy.
- </p>
- <p>
- The elephant began to crouch and strain at her chains. The old beams
- creaked more ominously and there were crackings.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was only foolin’ you, Imogene,” Avery faltered. “He ain’t gone at all.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The elephant stood up on her hind legs and tugged at the chains that
- confined her fore feet. One of them snapped.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Honest to Gawd!” shouted “Figger-Four.” The situation frightened him.
- Palermo with a wild elephant rampant in it would hear of his visit to the
- barn and would suspect and blame him. Imogene thrashed about more
- viciously.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There ain’t a word of truth in what I said about him. He’s right handy.”
- But when she snapped one of the hind-leg chains he quavered, “He was lyin’
- to me! She don’t understand what you say to her!”’
- </p>
- <p>
- He ran out to see where the horses were, thinking that their return might
- reassure the great beast. But they were far down in the field, scampering
- about. There was the “yawk” of drawing nails within, and the side of the
- barn shivered.
- </p>
- <p>
- “She’s a-goin’ to get loose! She’s goin’ to rip us all to pieces!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He hopped around to the front of the barn in the frantic hope that some
- kind of aid would present itself. “Hard-Times” Wharff, with an instinct
- that never failed when there was trouble on, stood across the road, his
- gaze on the barn.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then came an inspiration to “Figger-Four.” Since Imogene had settled in
- Palermo he had taken especial interest in all literature relating to
- elephants. He suddenly remembered an item he had seen in the miscellany of
- the county <i>Oracle</i>.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was stated there that elephants were singularly susceptible to the
- soothing influence of music.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you got your flute along, ’Quarius?” squalled Avery.
- </p>
- <p>
- The human weather-vane pulled it out and waved it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then, for the Lord’s sake, hurry acrost here with it. You may save lives
- and property.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was at that moment that Squire Phin realised that something out of the
- ordinary was occurring on his premises. He came out of the kitchen-door
- just in time to behold “Figger-Four” and “Hard-Times” hustling around the
- corner of the barn. A moment later he heard the melancholy and wavery
- notes of the flute, and hurried into the barn by the way of the tie-up
- door just in time to witness the climax of Avery’s attempt at
- elephant-taming.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Figger-Four” was holding Uncle Wharff at the big door almost by main
- force, and the old man, in spite of his fright, was trying his best to
- play. But his goggling eyes were too busy with the distracted Imogene, who
- was now occupied with her last leg-chain, which was attached to an upright
- beam supporting an end of the scaffold. Amidst her hollow roarings the
- feeble tones of the flute wailed like a cricket’s chirpings in a tornado.
- </p>
- <p>
- If anything were needed to add to the exasperation of the desolated
- Imogene it was this mocking presence in the barn-door. With a last plunge
- she pulled the beam from under the scaffold and made for the door,
- sweeping her trunk at the men in her path. But the dragging log impeded
- her for a moment until she shook it out of the bight of chain. Avery and
- Uncle Wharff rolled over the driveway and crawled under the barn, and
- Imogene strode down across the field pursuing the horses.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Perhaps I didn’t play the right tune,” the Squire heard “Hard-Times” gasp
- under the bam in reply to an angry growl from Avery. But he didn’t wait to
- interrogate them. That elephant was abroad, evidently with mind determined
- on mischief, and he felt that his first duty was to secure a band of
- elephant hunters in the village and start them on the trail.
- </p>
- <p>
- When he turned into the street from the yard the parrot vigorously snapped
- a bar of his cage and yelled after him, “Hey, Rube!”
- </p>
- <p>
- This final and unconscious touch of satire was too much for Squire Phin’s
- sense of the ludicrous. He turned in his tracks and surveyed the old
- homestead behind the poplars.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Headquarters of the Look Brothers’ Grand Consolidated Circus and
- Menagerie,” he muttered, a smile creasing his cheeks even while he
- frowned.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t know whether to laugh, cry or swear damnation!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then he hurried on to round up his elephant posse.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XIII—THE “COME-UPPANCE” OF CAPTAIN NYMPHUS BODFISH
- </h2>
- <h3>
- OF THE PACKET “EFFORT”
- </h3>
- <p class="indent15">
- “I’m a serious-minded man,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- I have sailed from old Cape Ann
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- For fifty years, and I’ve braved as much as ary a mortal can.
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- I ain’ afraid of the stormy sea,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Nor critters that swim it, whatever they be,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- But a witch of a woman is what floors me.”
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- —Sea-song of the “Baches of Bucksport.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he Palermo packet,
- “Effort,” rocked slowly on the refuse-strewn ooze in her berth at
- Merrithew’s wharf, Square Harbour, her gray, weather-streaked sides
- rubbing at the barnacles on the piles. On the upper step of her cuddy
- companionway sat her skipper, Captain Nymphus Bodfish, rubbing his raspy
- palm over his bristly gray beard, the little curls of which were much like
- barnacles, too.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I tell ye, set quiet,” he growled down the companionway. “I ain’t run
- packet here for ten years not to know when trains leave or not to know how
- to telefoam for a hack when I want one. That hack will be here ha’f-past
- twelve and it will get you to the deppo plenty in time.”
- </p>
- <p>
- In a little while the complaining whine of a woman’s voice came up the
- companionway again. The captain impatiently twitched at a leather chain
- and flipped a big silver watch out of his pocket.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ten minits arter twelve, if ye’ve got to know,” he grumbled. “And it was
- eight minits arter twelve when you asked before. Now I ain’t no town clock
- to set here passin’ down time to ye ev’ry second or two. I say you’ll get
- to that deppo. So set quiet.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But in a little while the complaining voice came up once more—the
- voice of a woman who was hoarse with much weeping.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It ain’t no time now to be wishin’ that,” he snapped impatiently. “Your
- wishin’ wants to be all done up ahead when you make up your mind to run
- away from your husband. It’s all been fixed and arranged and you’ve agreed
- to do thus and so, and now there ain’t nothin’ to do but set quiet, set
- quiet, I tell you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Rather abstractedly he fingered in his waistcoat pocket and pulled the
- corner of a bill above its edge. He noted with fresh satisfaction, though
- he had looked at that bill at least a dozen times during the forenoon,
- that the figures in the corner were “20.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, it’s all been fixed and arranged,” he repeated with additional
- firmness, “and you said you’d go and you’ve gone, so now what is the use
- of cry-babyin’?” He craned his neck and looked up the long alley that led
- from the wharf to the street. “Hack will prob’ly git here a little ahead
- of time,” he muttered, “and I’ll be blamenation glad if it does. There’s
- nothin’ so cussed aggravatin’ to have ’round as a woman that can’t
- keep her mind set on one thing more’n fourteen seconds at a time. It will
- be good riddance when her gown-tail goes over the rail.” Again the voice
- complained below.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now I want a puffick understandin’ about this thing,” snarled Captain
- Bodfish. “You want to stop whifflin’ back and forth, like a sheet at
- come-about, and fill full on one tack or t’other. When that hack comes you
- want to be ready to step into it, free will and no caterwaulin’s. I don’t
- propose to lug you out. It’s your own bus’ness and ’tain’t mine.
- But I’ve contracted to git you to that deppo and you’ve taken par-sage
- with that understandin’—and it’s to that deppo that I deliver you.
- Then you can go to Tophet, home or Hackenny so soon’s you’re off’n my
- hands.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The voice came promptly when he finished. There was a question.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, s’r! Not a dum word of advice from me,” barked the skipper. “You’ve
- rooted your own hole and now you lay in it. I don’t never advise folks
- about their own business. If I said to go back to Wat Mayo or said to run
- away to where King Bradish is sendin’ you, you’d wish you’d done t’other,
- whatever one you done, and then I’d get the blame.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He half rose and craned his neck again. It was at the noon hour and the
- drays were silent and the hum of business had ceased in the storehouses
- along the wharf. In the stillness he heard the rapid roll of some heavy
- vehicle on the stones of the street to which the alley admitted.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Here comes your hack,” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- The voice rose in shrill protest.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, you will <i>go</i>, too!” he bawled, angrily. “I ain’t goin’ to have
- you left on my hands. It ain’t in the bargain.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The next moment four horses swung around the corner into the alley.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Jee-hosophat!” whistled the skipper. “They’re sartinly putting on style
- in the hackin’ line.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then the van appeared, but it was too far away for Captain Bodfish to see
- just what it was.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Blast ’em,” he snorted, “I didn’t telefoam for no furnitur’ to be
- moved.” He clumped across the deck and stood at the rail, peering under
- his palm.
- </p>
- <p>
- Captain Nymphus Bodfish of the packet “Effort” had never met Hiram Look,
- having scornfully refused to “go up and hang ’round a peep-show.”
- He was not familiar, as were his townsmen, with the showman’s vans and
- horses.
- </p>
- <p>
- His slow comprehension did not connect this apparition in Square Harbour
- with anything that could have come out of Palermo.
- </p>
- <p>
- “They’re both of ’em wearin’ plug hats,” he soliloquised as the
- outfit came rattling down the alley, “but ’tain’t no hearse,
- painted and gew-gawed up like that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The equipage made a gallant sweep past the end of the storehouse near the
- packet’s berth and halted at the edge of the dock. Hiram leisurely tucked
- away his whip in the socket beside the seat, passed the reins to Peak and
- jumped to the ground.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We didn’t have to waste a minute askin’ the way, Cap,” he remarked,
- cheerfully. “I find that the ‘Effort’ puts up at the same old dock, even
- if you <i>are</i> a new skipper.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ain’t anything very new about ten years o’ runnin’,” returned Bodfish,
- rather surlily, for the stranger’s easy familiarity nettled him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, it makes you new to me,” said Hiram. “Howsomever, I ain’t got time
- to swap a great deal of talk.” He pulled out his watch. “I’ve got
- thutty-five minutes to git to the station if she ain’t here. If she is
- here I want her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Captain Bodfish’s jaw dropped in his astonishment, and his rolling eye now
- caught for the first time the lettering on the upper panel of the van:
- “Leviathan Circus and Menagerie, H. Look, Prop.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes,” went on Hiram, noting the skipper’s gathering scowl, “we’ve come
- round by land per the Inlet road, crooked as an angle-worm and up and down
- like a dash chum. It took sweat and axle-grease, but we’re here, Cap, glad
- to see you and wishin’ you all the compliments of the season. Now, brief
- and to the point—is the lady aboard that you took out of Palermo
- this mornin’?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “None o’ your bus’ness,” replied Captain Bodfish, promptly and
- emphatically.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then I’ll come aboard and look. That’ll save me time and you the wear and
- tear on your mouth.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But Captain Bodfish leaped to the gang-plank and straddled himself there.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No you don’t come aboard no packet o’ mine,” he cried.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, then she’s here,” said Hiram. “They’re easy, these mossback fellers,
- Sime,” he added, turning to Peak. “It’s the old pickpocket trick. Jab a
- jay in the crowd and he flaps his hand onto where he’s carrying his
- wallet. Then all you have to do is to pick it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Bodfish’s rage was gathering fast.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram stepped upon the wharf-end of the plank.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I say ye can’t come aboard,” shouted the skipper. “You ain’t no policeman
- and you ain’t no custom officer.” He pulled a marline-spike from a knot of
- rope at the rail. “You come in reach of me, you circus man, and I’ll drive
- that plug hat down so fur oh your shoulders that folks will have to slice
- it off with a can-opener.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ain’t your works gittin’ a little heated?” sarcastically queried Hiram.
- “Now, there’s a young woman aboard that bo’t that I’ve come after, and I’m
- goin’ to have her. You don’t know me and I don’t know you. You think you
- can stop me. I know you can’t. Now you’d better come over to my opinion of
- the case, Cap’n Nymp’ Bodfish, and save further wear and tear.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But the irate captain only stepped out on the plank and whirled his spike.
- “You ain’t got your pitchfork to-day, and you ain’t got no Klebe Willard
- to deal with, either.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, but I’ve got my grapplers,” shouted Hiram, and before the skipper
- could stir stump he snapped forward, grabbed the gang-plank and jerked it
- toward him. At the same time he tipped it and the captain of the “Effort”
- went down ’longside with a “kerplunko” that sent the turbid water
- above the wharf’s edge like the spout of a geyser. Hiram made two bounds,
- one to the rail and one to the deck.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Here, Mayo woman,” he cried, as he clumped down the companionway into the
- dim cabin, “no arguments, no back talk.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He seized her by the arm, rushed her up the steps and to the rail, and
- fairly tossed her across the space to the wharf, over the head of Captain
- Bodfish, who was blowing water from his mouth and nose, and clambering
- painfully up the side of the craft.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You ain’t cool yet. Take another dip,” cried Hiram, and he put his broad
- boot down on Bodfish’s head and sent him under again.
- </p>
- <p>
- The girl swayed dizzily on the wharf, but the showman had her in his grasp
- the next moment. He noted a hack bowling down the wharf and persons were
- sauntering that way, attracted by the unusual spectacle of a circus van.
- Without a moment’s hesitation he half-carried the woman to the rear of the
- van, threw open the double doors, pushed her in on some blankets that were
- spread on the floor, and closed and padlocked the opening. She was
- uttering sharp cries, but he put his mouth close to the crack and growled
- at her:
- </p>
- <p>
- “You’re goin’ home, you little fool. But if you let one more yip out of
- you I’ll deliver you to the first policeman I meet and tell him you’re an
- eloper. Then it’s State prison for you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Her cries ceased and Hiram turned a bland face to the persons who had come
- up.
- </p>
- <p>
- Captain Bodfish had regained his vessel and was sitting on the rail,
- dragging the water out of his eyes with his knuckles, and panting for
- breath. The showman forestalled any compromising accusations. He went
- close to the edge of the wharf, leaned over and said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Cap, you can’t afford to open your mouth. I can have you tarred and
- feathered here in ten minutes if I let the crowd in on what you’ve tried
- to do. I’m a son of a seacook on handlin’ a crowd.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The skipper unclosed and shut his mouth like a fish, but he realised the
- force of that warning.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram went along and prepared to climb back upon his seat. As he set his
- toe on the hub one of the crowd inquired suspiciously:
- </p>
- <p>
- “If it ain’t a sassy question, mister, what was that critter that you was
- putting into the cart here? We heard it squawkin’, but we couldn’t see
- very well.” Hiram, his success making him amiable, smiled upon the
- bystanders.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Gents, I am both pleased and proud to tell you that I have now in this
- van one of the most beautiful specimens of the five-finned American
- mermaid that was ever captured on our stem and rock-bound coast.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The zeal of the barker entered his spirit. It had been a long time since
- he had faced an audience.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This stupendous attraction, gents, that has just been secured for Look’s
- Leviathan Menagerie is the only living specimen of the American
- Mermaidissus in captivity to-day. She has flowing hair in which she wraps
- herself as in a mantle of the purest silk, and she is fresh from the royal
- courts of the king of the seas. She was captured off our aforesaid rocky
- coast by the bravest sailor that ploughs the ocean blue”—Bodfish was
- edging through the crowd, his face working with mighty wrath that he did
- not dare to give rein to. The showman beamed on him. “Yes, gents, captured
- in a single-handed conflict by that brave sailor, Cap’n Nymphus Bodfish,
- of the ‘Effort.’ And now he will be pleased to give you full particulars
- of that gigantic struggle in the waters of old ocean. As for me I shall
- have to be movin’ on to where immense and delighted audiences await me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He started to climb over the wheel, tipping a wink at Peak, and the crowd
- turned open-mouthed to Bodfish. The instant the showman’s back was turned
- that infuriated individual rushed forward, dealt Hiram a mighty kick, and
- when the showman turned, bonneted him in his tall hat, and then ran like a
- deer off the wharf and across the decks of a nest of fishing schooners
- that were packed in at one of the docks.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram worked off his hat and straightened it, gazing after the fleeing
- Bodfish without a word. But his face was gray and rigid with rage. Then he
- climbed to his seat and gazed afresh on the skipper, scuttling across the
- decks.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Aforesaid brave and intrepid sailor seems to have had his brain turned by
- his wonderful success as a mermaid capturer,” he grated. “It—it’s——”
- he choked and paused. “It’s too bad!” he managed to growl at last, and
- then snatched the reins from Peak’s hands and drove off up the alley at a
- stiff pace, leaving a very much mystified crowd behind him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We’ll get out of this place as soon as pullin’ the braid and pushin’ the
- webbin’ will do it,” he said to Peak as the van turned into the dingy
- shore street of Square Harbour. “Ev’ry one here has got eyes hung out on
- their cheeks like lobsters have,” he went on, glowering at the people on
- the sidewalks. His amiability had departed suddenly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What ye goin’ to do to old Tarfinger?” asked Peak, who fully understood
- what the showman was thinking about.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s goin’ to take a good deal of prayer and meditation to plan it out,
- Sime,” replied Hiram, slowly and menacingly. “Do you think that many of
- them critters that stood round there knew who I was?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ain’t your name on this cart bigger’n a fat woman sign on a side-show
- banner?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram ground his teeth.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There was a man kicked me once,” he related slowly, “and there wasn’t no
- outsiders see him do it, either. And that man—but I ain’t any hand
- to brag, Sime. All I say is that such a case as this needs prayer and
- meditation, and a lot of it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- They rode on in silence. There was no sound from within.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We’ll stop up-country at some farmer’s place and bait,” said Hiram at
- last, “and we’ll get into Palermo after dark. The invisible lady trick
- will be played all right and there’s that much to say, but—I never
- was kicked before in the face and eyes of a public audience, to have it
- talked about from Clew to Erie and laughed over, and him get away! Oh, it
- ain’t no common case, Sime. Don’t talk to me. Let me meditate.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Therefore the ride along the highway that swept up around the broad Inlet
- was one devoted wholly to introspection, both without and within the
- rumbling van.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XIV—THE PACT OF “ORPHAN HILL”
- </h2>
- <h3>
- AND THE DIVAGATIONS OF DISCONSOLATE IMOGENE
- </h3>
- <p class="indent10">
- “I’ tell you ’bout that, mare of mine—the more you holler
- ‘whoa!’
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- I’ve taught the whelp to clench her teeth and h’ist her tail and go!
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- And when we got clus’ down to Clark’s, I thought for jest a sell,
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- I’d make believe we’d run away. So I began to yell,
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- And old man Pease he hugged his knees and gaffled to his pail,
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- And now, my boy, purraps you think that turn-out didn’t sail! ”
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- —“Narrative of Bart of Brighton.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>n the
- mid-afternoon Hiram checked his weary horses on the swell of a hill that
- overlooked a placid reach of farms.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I guess we’ll stop and provender up at that first house, there, Sime,” he
- stated. “I’m ’bout starved, and I reckon the plugs are, too. You
- hold the reins a minute whilst I lay down a little law to the invisible
- lady.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He threw open the rear doors and surveyed the swollen and tear-streaked
- features of ’Missy Mayo. She met his gaze for a moment only, and
- then began to sob again.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ashamed of yourself, ain’t you?” the showman demanded.
- </p>
- <p>
- She bobbed woful assent with her head and crooked her arm before her face.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Women,” pursued Hiram, relentlessly, “are ostriches when they ain’t
- wild-cats, and from me that knows ’em all and that’s been scratched
- criss-cross by wild-cats and has owned ostriches and had a nat’rally sweet
- and affectionate disposition soured by women’s actions, you can take that
- say-so as gospel. It ain’t no advance agent’s talk. I’ve been with the
- main show, and I <i>know</i>. You’re an ostrich. Take your head out from
- under the chip and look at me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She obeyed, huddling herself on her knees on the blankets.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know just what you are goin’ to tell me if I begin to ask you
- questions,” he said. “You’ll take on like a kitten with her tail in a
- crack and tell me you are so, <i>so</i> sorry and that you’ll never do it
- again, and that he promised you nice dresses and di’mond rings and nothin’
- to do except to let your poor, dear, oopsy-soopsy little hands grow white,
- and so you couldn’t help yourself, and you tried to be good and love your
- husband and stay at home, and you couldn’t, so there!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I do love my husband,” she sobbed. “And that man did say all those
- things to me, and he did say I had broken up my husband’s home with his
- people and that they all hated me, and that my poor Wat would be better
- off if I were to go away.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And so you thought it all over and cried off by yourself and planned how
- noble it would be for you to leave him to be happy ever after, with his
- folks boarding him, and you would go away into the wide, wide world and
- sacrifice yourself just as that wife did that you’d read about who went
- backward outdoors into the night with her black hood on—they allus
- wear black hoods—waving her hands and sending back kisses toward the
- bedroom where her husband was sleepin’, and sayin’, ‘Farewell, I go to
- save thee!’ That was jest the whole story, wa’n’t it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, Mr. Look,” began the girl, eagerly, “that was the truth of it—you
- do know it all—you can appreciate——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Shut up,” roared the showman; “talk about prohibiting the sale of rum in
- this State,” he snarled, glancing up at Peak; “they ought to make it a
- jail crime to sell a dime novel to a woman unless she’s got cross eyes and
- a club foot and a hare-lip—and then it wouldn’t allus be safe to let
- her have one of ’em. There’s more cussedness sucked up out of one
- of them such novels than you can get through straws at a bar. Now, Mrs.
- Ostrich, I ain’t got any time to stand here and tell you how many kinds of
- a byjoosly fool you are, for there’s a team li’ble to come along any
- minute. But I’m goin’ to tell you sometime, and I’ve seen enough of the
- world and of cheap renegades of men to make your hair curl when you think
- what you’ve got out of. It’s me that’s goin’ to take you home in this cart—and
- it’s me that thought up this way of gettin’ you there without ev’rybody
- knowin’ that you run away and left your husband.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The wife dragged herself on her knees to the opening and clasped her
- hands.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mr. Look,” she wailed, “it’s all true what you say. But I ain’t ever had
- any mother that I can remember. I didn’t have anyone to tell me the things
- that a girl ought to know. I don’t blame you for talking hard to me. I
- deserve it. But I want to do right. Indeed, I do, Mr. Look. If you’ll take
- me home I’ll always stay there. I’m hungry to stay there. Oh, how I’ve
- wished I hadn’t gone—wished so all this long day and I’ve cried my
- eyes out wishing so. I know I don’t love anyone but my husband. Take me
- back to him, Mr. Look, and I’ll never want to be anything but a true wife
- to him again—never, never, never!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Her fluttering hands grasped the sides of the van and she leaned her
- convulsed face toward him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “So your mother died when you was young?” Hiram inquired. His tone had
- softened.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I never knew who my mother was.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mine died and left me under fourteen and Phin a baby,” said the showman,
- looking off across the fields and blinking his eyes. “It’s sort of—sort
- of startin’ anyone back-handed into the world without a mother to kind of
- walk hand in hand with up to where the paths split. Bad for a man, worse
- for a woman.”
- </p>
- <p>
- There was silence for a little time, except for the | girl, who sobbed
- with quick indrawings of the breath.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let’s see, Sime,” said Hiram, trying to keep his voice steady and
- matter-of-fact, “I ain’t ever asked you how it was with your fam’ly. Was
- you brought up by a mother?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was bound out from an orphan asylum when I was eight,” replied the
- giant, turning away his face and fingering the seam of a patch on his
- knee. “A farmer took me and he made me wear pants made out of a butcher’s
- frock, and I never got but five weeks’ schoolin’, ’cause I couldn’t
- stand ’em laughin’ at me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Three of us pretty much of a stripe,” sighed the showman. “Each of us
- with an out of some kind. Nothin’ to be proud of, any of us. Can’t expect
- much else, maybe! I tell ye, Sime, I know how you felt about the school
- bus’ness. After they folded mother’s hands—and I can see ’em
- folded now just as I did when I tiptoed into the settin’-room where they’d
- laid her out—I didn’t have no more jelly tarts to set out on the
- desk when I opened my dinner-pail at school, and I used to stay in at
- recess so that the girls couldn’t see the holes in the seat of my pants.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He stood and looked away and fingered the folds of skin on his wrinkled
- neck as though there were an ache there.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’m glad to believe,” he said softly and brokenly, “that God ain’t mean
- enough to let dead mothers ever know how their little gaffers get along
- after their mother hands are folded and they can’t ’tend and do any
- longer.”
- </p>
- <p>
- After a little time he turned to the wife, and his eyes were wet.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I ain’t all hard spots, sissy,” he affirmed impulsively. “Most often it’s
- the softest places that have the hardest calluses over ’em. I’m a
- pretty soft old fool, myself. Most think I ain’t, but I am. I’ve made my
- mistakes and they was bad ones. Sime, there, has made just as bad ones as
- me. You’ve made yours, sissy, but don’t make any more—don’t!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He patted her cheek with a tenderness that no one ever saw before in Hiram
- Look.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We’ve sort of found out each other all at once. Let’s call this place
- here ‘Orphan Hill’ and always remember it. Let’s kind of brace from now
- on. We can’t be angels, none of us. We’ve been too much handicapped. But
- we can brace!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He didn’t seem to dare to trust himself to talk any longer, but closed the
- doors on the girl and called to her that she must be very quiet while the
- van stood in the farmer’s yard, explaining that he would secure food for
- her.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then he perched himself beside Peak and drove on, each busy with his own
- thoughts.
- </p>
- <p>
- The woman of the house promptly appeared at the door when the van swung
- into the yard.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, it’s best for you that you did stop on your way back,” she snapped.
- “You never paid a single mite of attention to me when you went past this
- morning, but kept goin’ like the mill-tail of Tophet. I said to my husband
- that peddlers’ teams was gettin’ pretty stuck up, prancin’ past with four
- horses and not payin’ no attention when, a lady comes to the door sacking
- a bag of rags. Now here they be. Have you got your st’ilyards? I suppose
- you have and that you cheat as much as——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “That woman seems to be the open-faced, self-windin’ kind,” Hiram growled
- to Peak through the corner of his mouth. Then he interrupted her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You’d better buy a good pair of far-sighted specs from the next peddler
- that comes along this way, marm,” he suggested with some insolence.
- “You’ll be able to tell the diff’rence, then, between a tin rag peddler or
- a rag tin peddler, or whatever you call ’em, and two gentlemen
- ridin’ out for pleasure to take the air. Now, to come to bus’ness—will
- you sell me a baitin’ for my horses, and three lunches—two to be et
- on the spot and one to be took away?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Her first impulse, evidently, was to refuse this blunt request. But Hiram
- waved a bill at her. She called a freckled youth from the barn and
- continued to stare at the vehicle and the two strangers.
- </p>
- <p>
- When the boy led away the horses, after Hiram and Peak had unhooked them
- from the cart, the woman broke her silence and there was suppressed
- excitement in her tones.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ve got you placed. You’re the circus man that’s come back to live down
- to P’lermo, and this is one of your carts, and you’ve come up here to help
- catch that dratted el’phunt that’s been rampagin’ ’round here since
- noon. You ain’t come none too soon, Mr. Circuser. You’ll have a nice bill
- to pay in this neighbourhood—and you can start right in by settlin’
- with us first of all. You come here, the two of ye.”
- </p>
- <p>
- In silent amazement the men followed her around the ell.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There’s where he come through,” she rasped, pointing to two lengths of a
- picket fence laid flat; “there’s where he went out.” On the opposite side
- of the garden more lengths of fence were cast down. “Half the pickets
- busted where he stepped on ’em! Three of our little Sopsyvine trees
- knocked down, and there—look there!”
- </p>
- <p>
- She had evidently reserved this climax. She pointed to the slope of a
- little hillock.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Two webs of ‘Fruit of the Loom’ that was bleach-in’, all trampled and
- torn and gurried up! A ding-blamed el’phunt and a dozen men skyhootin’
- acrost herer without aye, yes or no and not payin’ the least attention to
- anything underfoot! I say if you’re the circus man from P’lermo you’ve got
- a good nice bill to settle in these parts.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “<i>My</i> elephant!” demanded Hiram, amazedly, tapping himself with his
- knuckles on his breast and staring from Peak to the woman.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t know of any other fool that’s keepin’ el’phunts for pets or
- raisin’ ’em for market,” she retorted. “If an old gray gob o’ meat
- with ragged ears and dirty feet as big as saucepans—as you can see
- by the smooches on my unbleached cotton—is your el’phunt, then it <i>is</i>
- your el’phunt with a passul of howlin’ men after him, and my husband
- chasin’ off along with the rest instead of stayin’ here and protectin’ his
- home and his wife.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do you suppose it’s Imogene got away?” gasped Hiram, staring at Peak.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, for a guess I should say it was,” replied that friend,
- unconsolingly. “Elephants are not as common as woodchucks around here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The two men stared away up the hillock and across the field to the fence
- that bordered it. There was no need of asking the woman the course of the
- parade. A huge gap in the fence and torn bushes in the adjacent woodlot
- marked the route.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I consider that a man that introduces el’phunts into a quiet country
- neighbourhood is worse than he would be if he put damanite bumbs under
- folks’ houses,” sputtered the woman.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You just shut your mouth for a minute and let me think, will ye?” roared
- Hiram. “Sime,” he went on after a little reflection, “you’ve got to go
- along with the—the——” He saw the woman’s eyes fixed on
- him inquisitively and he checked himself. “You deliver the goods,” he
- directed, “right to Phin and he’ll do the rest. Get along just as soon as
- the horses are baited and don’t forget the lunch for the—the
- gayzelle,” he added for the benefit of the curious woman. “I’ll take my
- grub in my hand and chase up Imogene. There’s no knowin’ what them farmers
- will da with her if I don’t. Here’s a two-dollar bill,” he said hastily to
- the woman. “That’s lib’ral pay for three lunches and hoss-baitin’.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I never heard of gay-zelles eatin’ lunch,” she said, suspicion in her
- tones. “I s’pose you’ve got a wild man o’ Borneo in that cart to let loose
- on us next.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s no matter what we’ve got,” retorted Hiram. “You give me my grub in
- my hand and let me get away.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He went stamping into the kitchen and she foh lowed him with some
- apprehension. Five minutes later he trotted at his best gait across the
- field along the trail of Imogene and her pursuers, munching ham sandwiches
- and scattering crumbs upon the breeze.
- </p>
- <p>
- A stern chase is always a long one, and after Hiram had crossed the
- woodlot he found himself on a parallel road where there were still other
- indignant women and clamorous farmers to shake off when they hailed him as
- the presumptive owner of the fugitive elephant and sought to collect
- damages.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A Kansas cyclone is a kitten beside of her,” he muttered as he surveyed
- one scene of devastation after another and hurried on.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Them farmers must be aggravatin’ Imogene something awful to make her cut
- up this way. But I don’t blame her. If I had a trunk and weighed
- twenty-seven hundred pounds I’d smash down what she ain’t finished up. She
- and me agrees on farmers.”
- </p>
- <p>
- So, scattering right and left profanity and promises to settle, he toiled
- on, his tall hat in his hand and the perspiration streaming down his face.
- There was no such thing as keeping the trail in a team. Through copses and
- meadows, down water-courses and valleys and across farm dooryards the
- animal had led her pursuers. The trail was devious, too, as though
- Imogene, harassed on all sides, had kept turning, either to attack or
- dodge. In one place a considerable array of various samples of trousers
- cloth fluttering from a barbed wire fence indicated that there had been a
- hasty retreat. Hiram stopped and surveyed this scene with grim
- satisfaction.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You pocketed ’em in this corner, dum ’em,” he muttered.
- “Bully for you, old gal!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The showman, in his many twistings and turnings along the trail, stopped
- taking note of his general direction of progress, and just before dusk,
- leg-weary and panting, found himself coursing down a hillock that was
- strangely familiar. He suddenly stopped in the midst of trampled, tattered
- and bedraggled cotton sheeting and stared about him. He had come’ back to
- the place where he had started on the chase and for a moment thought he
- had unconsciously crossed his own trail somewhere and had followed back. A
- woman’s voice, shrill with anger, hailed him from the ell window.
- </p>
- <p>
- “’Tain’t enough, is it, for your tarnation old el’-phunt to
- hooroosh over our primises once, but she and her rag-tag must come back
- and slambang through again!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The farmer came out of the barn, mopping his brow.
- </p>
- <p>
- “They ain’t five minutes ahead of ye,” he said. “I should ’a’ kept
- right on chasin’, but I had to stop off and do my chores. I reckon they’ll
- catch her pretty quick. She’s about beat out.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram slouched down the hill, puffing.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But there ain’t no use in ’em catchin’ her,” continued the farmer.
- “It will be like catchin’ smallpox. You can’t do nothin’ sensible with it
- when you do get it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you infernal fools would let her alone she’d be all right and go
- home,” bellowed Hiram over his shoulder as he leaped across the highway
- fence and began to run with his last remaining strength.
- </p>
- <p>
- A quarter of an hour later, after struggling in the dusk through an alder
- swamp, he came out in the rear of some farm buildings. He saw men
- sprinkled in straggly line about a barn, men who leaned on pitchforks and
- clubs and guns.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where is she?” he shouted at the first man he came across—an
- individual who was scratched by bushes and brambles and whose blue,
- drilling overalls hung about him in shreds.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ain’t much need of askin’ that if you’ll listen a minit,” returned the
- elephant hunter surlily.
- </p>
- <p>
- From the bam came frantic neighings of horses and melancholy lowings of
- cows. An occasional crash, rattle or clatter indicated that either Imogene
- was trying to get comfortably into a safe shelter, in spite of the
- interference of farming tools, or that the terrified inmates were
- struggling to get out.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the house a woman could be heard plaintively mourning, once in a while
- her voice breaking into a scream as some fresh and louder tumult sounded
- in the barn.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s the widder Abilene Snell that owns this stand,” explained the man
- solemnly. “She was jest gittin’ over the hysterics she had this noon. Us
- and el’phunt was here once before this to-day. She’s an awful high-strung
- woman. I shouldn’t wonder if this second trip would fix her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The showman did not hesitate.
- </p>
- <p>
- He clapped his hat on his head and rushed into the barn. The men flocked
- together, the word having passed that Hime Look had at last arrived to
- claim his own.
- </p>
- <p>
- For a little space there was utter silence in the barn—-Imogene
- evidently listening in an attempt to determine whether this new arrival
- were friend or foe. Then there sounded joyful trumpetings as the exhausted
- and frightened animal recognised her master. The men could hear Hiram’s
- voice soothing her, and after a time he appeared at the tie-up door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ve got another time and place,” he said, addressing them as they came
- crowding up to him, “for tellin’ you all what I think of a parsul of men
- that will chase a poor elephant nearly to death. I ain’t goin’ to tell you
- now. I’ve been runnin’ too long. I ain’t got breath enough. When I start
- in to tell you I shall need a lot of it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, we got your brother Phin’s word to come after her,” said one of the
- bystanders, sulkily. “There ain’t any of us got any partic’lar relish for
- an el’phunt bee, but we come ’cause he asked us to.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You may be good barn-raisers,” returned the showman angrily, “but what
- you snoozers don’t know about elephants would make up the most that’s so
- about ’em.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Several women came to the door of the house and one of the men called to
- them:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tell Mis’ Snell that the man that owns the animile has come to git her.
- There ain’t no more danger.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The mournings within ceased promptly and a plump and fair matron appeared
- among the women on the door-stoop.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What have you got to say for yourself, lettin’ loose such critters to
- ruin and destroy?” she demanded, with the ready and hot anger that
- succeeds fright.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram, still framed in the tie-up door, took off his hat gallantly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It ain’t any doin’s of mine, marm,” he said. “Prob’ly a kinder or
- sweeter-tempered elephant than Imogene is has never teased for peanuts
- over a guard-rope. But it don’t improve no dispositions to be chased by a
- pack of goramuses—it wouldn’t improve your disposition, it wouldn’t
- improve mine.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t you go to classin’ me with your menagerie, yourself included,” she
- snapped. “What I want to know is, who’s goin’ to pay me for the damage
- that’s been done here to-day? It ain’t goin’ to be no shillin’ and a
- thank-ye settlement, now, I can tell ye that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram came out of the tie-up door and trudged forward a few steps.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’m a widder, but you needn’t think you are goin’ to jew me one cent’s
- wuth,” she flung at him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ve got forty thousand dollars in the bank, and I don’t care who knows
- the same,” retorted Hiram, “and I stand good for all bills incurred by me
- or Imogene—now don’t you forget that for a second.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He started across the yard toward the widow, for this arm’s-length
- conversation, with so many eavesdroppers, annoyed him. The persecuted
- Imogene had been trying to squeeze through the narrow alley from the barn
- floor. Now that she had recovered her friend and defender she did not
- propose to lose him again. With an eagerness candid and child-like, she
- sought safety at his side.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I want you to understand that though I’m a widder I ain’t without friends
- and protectors,” said Mrs. Snell. “The bill for damages will be sent to
- Cap’n Nymphus Bodfish, at P’lermo, and he’ll have full power to act for
- me. And now if you’ll take your el’phunt in tow and git off my primises
- I’ll be much obleeged to you. I’ve been through all I want to for one
- day.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The name of Bodfish acted on the showman almost galvanically.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Him,” he muttered, “settle with him? Not by a——”
- </p>
- <p>
- He strode across the yard.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You and me——” He began, but at that instant Imogene, who had
- heard his voice in the space before the barn, whirled from her attempt to
- squeeze through the tie-up and crashed out through the big doors. With
- screams the women jammed back into the entry and slammed the door. The men
- in the yard ran in all directions.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Go back, Imogene!” the showman shouted wrathfully, but the anxious beast
- ambled sidewise toward him, waving her trunk appealingly.
- </p>
- <p>
- He jumped at her and threw up his arms. She stopped and gazed
- reproachfully, and came toward him again.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I say, she won’t hurt a soul,” he shouted, but the women kept up their
- clamour in the house, and the men were hidden in the dusk. Then his anger
- wreaked itself on the only thing in sight—and that was the amazed
- Imogene.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a pile of fitted wood in the yard, and he began to bombard her
- with it. She retreated a few steps, and then bowing her devoted head,
- received the missiles meekly, yet with an evident determination to stay
- that touched the showman’s heart.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Poor old gal,” he muttered, “you’re worth all the rest put together. But
- there ain’t no Widder Snell goin’ to pass me and my bus’ness along to Cap
- Nymp’ Bodfish, and if this is the place where that old wharf-rat thinks
- he’s goin’ to nest in the sweet by-and-by—well, no man ever kicked
- me in the face and eyes of the public before!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He set his teeth with obstinate resolve and walked up and rapped on the
- widow’s door. When it was not opened to him he pushed vigorously, and two
- women who had been holding it ran away into the sitting-room, screaming
- that the elephant was coming.
- </p>
- <p>
- But it was only Hiram who appeared to the terrified widow, backed into a
- corner and surrounded by her retinue of comforters.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mis’ Snell,” said Hiram, bowing low and striving for an especial purpose
- of his own to put his best foot forward, “a man ain’t to be judged by
- first appearances nor while standin’ in a dooryard in the dark tryin’ to
- handle an elephant that’s been scared to death by tomrotted fools. Now, I
- can see that you’re a lady that’s used to the world and that’s too polite
- and ladylike to refuse to have an understand when a gentleman comes to you
- humbly like I do.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He noted the little flush on the widow’s fair cheek and reflected that
- Captain Bodfish displayed eminent good taste.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I hope it won’t ever be said of me that I didn’t know my manners,”
- replied Mrs. Snell, with pride, but visibly affected by Hiram’s gallant
- admiration and homage.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And as it is allus best when talkin’ private and personal bus’ness to
- make that bus’ness strickly personal and private,” continued Hiram, bowing
- to the women, who now stood back from the widow, “I feel that I ain’t
- askin’ too great a favour from you, Mis’ Snell, if you could arrange it so
- that we could have the room to ourselves.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The women retired to the kitchen with no very good grace.
- </p>
- <p>
- As Hiram began to speak there was a queer fumbling and rustling at the
- window, and the widow turned and with difficulty repressed a cry. There
- stood Imogene, with the lamp-light touching the broad head pushed close to
- the glass. She was blinking appealing eyes, and with the “thumb” of her
- trunk was feeling along the sash in an aimless, selfconscious way.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, marm,” expostulated the showman, “that elephant is tamer than a tab
- cat, ’cause a cat will scratch and that elephant wouldn’t harm a
- hair—a single spear of your—your—” (Hiram let it come
- out, but bashfully)—“your pretty head. It’s affection that brings
- her to that window—affection for me. She’s the only one in the world
- that cares a rap for me—but it shows that I ain’t all bad when an
- animile can love me like that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He sighed and the widow looked at him with new interest. She apparently
- forgot the elephant at the window, and in a few minutes she certainly had
- forgotten Imogene’s presence, for she was leaning forward toward Hiram and
- listening intently.
- </p>
- <p>
- The women were listening as intently at the crack of the kitchen door, but
- Hiram spoke low and rapidly and they could not understand. But the
- interview must have altered Mrs. Snell’s opinion of Hiram Look, for at the
- end of half-an-hour she came to the kitchen door and said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wish you’d plan to stay here with me to-night, Nellie.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The young woman assented.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My nerves ain’t jest all right yet,” continued the widow, and then she
- looked them all boldly in the eye, though her cheeks were red, “and I’ve
- asked Mr. Look to stop all night and put his elephant in the barn. It
- would be an awful traipse for him to travel ’way back to P’lermo
- to-night, and I really feel that I could get to like elephants, he has
- talked to me so nice about ’em.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She went to a cupboard in a corner, took down a box of sweetmeats, carried
- them into the sitting-room, and, to the inexpressible horror of the women,
- shoved up the window at which Imogene was still wistfully fumbling. With
- fingers that trembled at first she dropped a few bits of the candy into
- the animal’s moist “porringer,” and Imogene tucked them into her mouth and
- munched with supreme satisfaction. The widow fed the candy to the last
- bit, manifestly enjoying the comments on her bravery.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then she carried the lantern to the barn when Hiram led the elephant away
- to domicile her for the night.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t want to draw no wrong conclusions nor do anyone wrong in my
- thoughts,” said Mrs. Wes Johnson, on her way home that evening, speaking
- to a woman who walked with her. “But if I was any judge I should say that
- Cap’n Nymphus Bodfish better be lookin’ to his buttons in a certain
- quarter.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “By the style she spit out there before us all tonight, you might think
- her intentions was serious toward him,” commented the other.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know they’re serious,” replied the other with decision. “Nymp’ has made
- his brags already, and I’m knowin’ to it that she’s been havin’ extra
- sewin’ done.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You don’t s’pose she’d mitten him now, do you?’ asked the other in
- horrified tones.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, I don’t want to wrong nobody,” said Mrs Johnson, “but if I was
- goin’ to say, I shouldn’t be that Cap Nymp’ Bodfish would get Abby Snell
- till I see ’em comin’ down the aisle together. I tell ye, when a
- man’s got forty thousand to put into the bank ’side of the twenty
- thousand that Number One left to ye, a woman does a little second-thought
- thinkin’.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Widow Snell stayed awake a long time that night, listening to the
- distant rumble of Hiram’s snores shuddering under the door of the best
- room. Possibly she was fulfilling Mrs. Johnson’s prediction about second
- thoughts.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XV—SOME OF THE POSSIBILITIES IN A “CORNET BRASS BAND”
- </h2>
- <h3>
- AS FIGURED BY ITS PROMOTER, HIRAM LOOK
- </h3>
- <p class="indent15">
- Open order and forward march!
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Major in bearskin and stiffer than starch,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Knees like a thoroughbred—he’s the kind!
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And all the musicianers marchin’ behind,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Then poum-ta-roum! Oh, ain’t it grand
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- To march with the Atkinson Full Brass Band?
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- —From “Village Ballads.”
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>hen Hiram turned
- in at the dooryard of the Look place next day it was late in the
- afternoon, and he was riding in the rear of a farmer’s beach waggon, his
- long legs dangling over the tail-board. Imogene followed docilely at the
- end of a rope, her affectionate gaze on her master.
- </p>
- <p>
- Squire Phin and Peak, who had been sitting on the porch, came along to
- greet the new arrival and congratulate him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, it’s taken leg-work a lot and head-work a lot,” said Hiram with a
- sigh of relief as he slid stiffly down from his perch. “Look-a-there!” He
- pointed to the horse that had drawn the waggon. “Had two runaways and one
- smash-up before I got that invented.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Two saplings were lashed to the thills and extended beyond the bit-rings
- through which they were thrust. The horse was unable to turn his head to
- look behind, and for further precaution the apprehensive country youth who
- drove had tied his ragged coat around the animal’s head like a muffler.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I never saw a section, hoss-kind and human-kind both, get so foolish over
- one mild and inoffensive elephant before,” Hiram went on disgustedly. “I
- should have been home before this, but I stayed and squared up. Went along
- the whole trail and, as you might say, settled damages along the right o’
- way. They ain’t got no kick comin’. Ain’t that so, son?” he demanded,
- addressing the youth on the seat.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t see how anyone could be any perficker a gent,” said the driver,
- warmly. “Our folks lost a row and a half of nurs’ry stock and one cosset
- lamb stepped on and squashed, and Mr. Look just up and slapped what it
- come to right down into dad’s fist, with a half a dollar extry for a
- laylock bush that we didn’t make no account of. And at Abby Snell’s, where
- the most damage was done, why, you jest ought to hear Abby tell——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, that’s all right, son,” interrupted Hiram, hastily. “All is I
- wanted to stand square up that way, and give the gossips a chance to chaw
- on something sweet ’stead of something sour.” He handed the youth a
- silver dollar. “That’s for yourself, son,” he said, “and now you’d better
- be hustling for home ‘fore dark.” He looked more comfortable when the
- waggon went clattering away under the elms.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I guess what they don’t know about Abby Snell down this way jest yet
- awhile won’t hurt ’em any,” he muttered as he led away Imogene into
- the barn, and into the companionship of the eight horses once more
- assembled. “Sime is such a soft old fool he would think I am in love, and
- Phin would pitch into me on account of my temper for gittin’ even, the
- same as he allus does.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hiram,” said his brother, when the showman joined the two men on the
- porch, “I want to ask your pardon for trying to stop you yesterday. Mr.
- Peak has told me how you managed at the other end. At this end it all
- worked to perfection. Wat Mayo only knows that she <i>ran</i> away on
- account of a mistaken notion that she would be helping him, and that she
- loved him too much to <i>stay</i> away.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There’s mighty few cases where women’s concerned when judicious lyin’
- ain’t a benefit all ’round,” said Hiram, lighting his cigar.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s only the strong natures that want and can stand the whole truth,”
- replied the Squire, sighing. “I did what I thought was for the best.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He’s a cosset and allus will be and you warmed his milk for him,” snorted
- Hiram. “That’s all right! You ain’t done anything wrong. Any other kind of
- feedin’ would give him an attack of love-colic that would tie him up into
- knots so that he’d never get untangled.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He smoked in silence for a little while.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ain’t there any ding-blasted thing in this world that the critter knows
- how to do?” he demanded. “There’s no young and pretty girl that’s goin’ to
- stay very hard in love with a swipe in a liv’ry stable, no matter how she
- tries. I pity the poor little gaffer, Phin. We had a talk together on the
- road—me and her and Sime here. I ain’t all bristles, Phin. I’d do
- somethin’ for the feller if I could—anything short of charity, and
- I’ll be cussed if I’ll give money to an able-bodied man that’s able to
- earn it. She’d hate him then, if there’s anything to her, and if she
- didn’t I’d hate her—and there you have it. Gad! I don’t understand
- how a chap can grow to be over twenty-one and not know how to do some one
- thing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If his folks had taught him to play a fiddle instead of a cornet,” said
- the Squire, “he might have been able to fiddle for dances and earn an
- oyster supper and a dollar-fifty once in a while, as old Eb Lancaster
- does.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Does the Mayo boy know how to play the cornet?” asked Hiram, with
- reviving interest.
- </p>
- <p>
- “His folks paid that bandmaster, that has his summer cottage down on
- Prout’s Point, two hundred dollars and over for lessons to Wat.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But can he <i>play?</i>” persisted Hiram.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How should I know?” snapped the Squire impatiently. “All I know is he
- near drove me crazy with his practising—and nigh every one else in
- the village.” But after a moment he went on with gentler tone:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, Hiram, some of the men around here who understand such things say
- that Wat Mayo plays wonderfully well. I remember that the bandmaster used
- to brag about him, but what with folks jawing about the noise he made, and
- his natural laziness, he hasn’t done anything with it. And a bulldog might
- as well try to chew with a set of store teeth as a man start out to earn a
- living in Palermo with a cornet.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, he’ll earn one from now on,” said Hiram.
- </p>
- <p>
- The two men stared at him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He’s jest the man I’ve been lookin’ for,” said the showman. “Life ain’t
- worth livin’ for me without band music. I’m homesick for it. Wat Mayo can
- consider himself hired as the teacher and leader of ‘Look’s Cornet Band,’
- and I’ll bet you ten dollars I’ll have twenty men practisin’ in Hobbs’s
- hall before next Saturday night.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You’ll never find twenty men in this place who can afford to buy band
- instruments,” objected the Squire.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ll buy ’em myself,” cried Hiram, stoutly. “Great Caesar, what’s
- a little expense beside good band music when a man’s hungry for it? I’ll
- buy the instruments, I’ll buy the uniforms—it’ll be my band, and
- I’ll buy a bearskin cap for Sime, here, six feet tall, and advertise him
- for the tallest drum-major in the State. Why, hustlin’ Cicero, men,” he
- cried, as his enthusiasm warmed his showman’s heart, “I can make Look’s
- Cornet Band an organisation that will be wanted in ev’ry parade from
- Quoddy to the Scarb’ro clam flats. And when your young friend Wat Mayo,
- Phin, gets ahead of that band in his spick-and-span uniform, you won’t
- have any more trouble about any critter ever cuttin’ him out with his
- wife. Why, she’ll love him to death!” He stamped his big foot on the
- piazza and laughed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I knew there was something I was hankerin’ for,” he chuckled. “’Twas
- a band. Why, we can serenade you, Phin, when you get elected Congressman
- or hog-reeve or culler of staves or to some other high office.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Of course, you are able to have such a plaything, Hime,” said the Squire,
- without enthusiasm, “and if it helps poor Wat Mayo to get out of his
- troubles I reckon the rest of us ought to be willing to stand the
- hullabaloo.”
- </p>
- <p>
- With a rather grim smile he left them and went around into his kitchen.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sime,” said the showman after he had smoked reflectively for some time,
- “I have taken you in with me as a sort of a side partner. It’s no use—there’s
- a few things that Phin and I can’t hitch hosses on, and they are things
- that’s derned important to me. No matter what they are, not jest now, at
- any rate. But I don’t mind tellin’ you that there’s more comin’ out of
- that Palermo Cornet Band than biff-bangs and toodle-oos. The thought of
- gettin’ it up was an inspiration—that’s what it was. You see now
- what comes of doin’ a good deed! Gettin’ that girl back makes us talk
- about Mayo, and from Mayo to a job for him, and thus around to the band.
- Yess’r, a good deed brings it own reward. Now, I ain’t popular with the
- people of this place. I want to be popular, but I never could cater to the
- old moss-backs by soft-soapin’ ’em. To do what I’ve set out to do I
- need to have a followin’. Now I’m goin’ to start that band, pay ’em
- wages when they play, furnish free concerts and music for dances, and if I
- ain’t popular then, why, I don’t know my people, that’s all.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Goin’ to run for office, I persume?” suggested Simon.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Run for your grandmother!” snorted Hiram. “What have I ever done to you
- that you should twit me that style? No, s’r, I’ll jest say this much to
- you, Sime. There’s a certain old son of a pickerel that I’m layin’ for in
- this town, and I’m goin’ to have him. I’m goin’ to walk one way acrost him
- and then come back the same way and wipe my feet on him. I tell ye, Sime,
- when an old harker that has got plenty of his own, jest gets out his knife
- and lets the financial blood out of a poor old man and a strugglin’ boy,
- only for the sake of lettin’ it, then if he don’t get it handed to him
- here—well, I may be lodged in another part of hell from him and
- shan’t be able to see what is passed to him there. So it’s me for him in
- this life! I tell you, Sime, our trip to Square Harbour wa’n’t all for
- nothin’. We done a good deed and we are gettin’ our pay passed right back
- to us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- With this curious but entirely characteristic reflection on the
- dispensations of Providence, Hiram tossed away his cigar butt and answered
- the supper call of Aunt Rhoda.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XVI—THE DISAPPOINTING “TEST CASE” OF SUMNER BADGER,
- </h2>
- <h3>
- A “SAMPLE CITIZEN” OF PALERMO
- </h3>
- <p class="indent15">
- There once was a Quaker, Orasmus Nute,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- With a physog. as stiff as a cowhide boot,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And he skippered a ship from Georgetown, Maine,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- In the ’way back days of the pirates’ reign.
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And the story I tell it has to do
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- With Orasmus Nute and a black flag crew—
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- The tale of the upright course he went
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- In the face of a certain predicament.
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- —Ballad of “Orasmus Nute.”
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>here was at least
- one secret in his life that “Fig-ger-Four” Avery kept. He never told what
- inspired Imogene to make her dash for liberty.
- </p>
- <p>
- Squire Phin didn’t exactly understand the tableau he had beheld, and
- charitably refrained from mentioning to his brother how music, as rendered
- by Uncle Wharff, failed to soothe the savage breast. As for Hiram, he did
- not seem to be interested enough to ask any questions.
- </p>
- <p>
- Whenever he mentioned the elephant’s escapade to Peak, he referred to the
- affair with a sort of grim blithesomeness.
- </p>
- <p>
- Weeks afterward, when the first damp, swirling snow of winter was clotting
- itself on the windows of the little sitting-room, he sat for a long time,
- figuring in a grimy account book with a stubby lead pencil. Every once in
- a while he chuckled.
- </p>
- <p>
- “J. B. Sawtelle,” he murmured, “items: four begonies and three geraniums
- mashed in front yard, one washin’ scattered hoorah-ste’-boy—say,
- Sime, Imogene with a night gown on one tush and a pair of J. B.‘s flannel
- drawers flyin’ distress from the other, and sheddin’ assorted articles
- such as found on a well-regulated clothes-line, as she hurrooped down
- through the beech growth, must have been worth double the price of a
- high-dive feature.”
- </p>
- <p>
- His shoulders, hunched in the rocking-chair, shook with suppressed mirth.
- </p>
- <p>
- Peak, his slippered feet resting on the rail of the Franklin stove,
- surveyed the shoulders and the back of Hiram’s head with scowling
- disapproval.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Some might think you relished chances to throw away money,” he growled,
- with a freedom of criticism accorded the favourite. Simon now appeared to
- be settled as a fixture in the showman’s household. The old horse Joachim
- had died with the first frosts, and the battered van lurched under one of
- the poplars, exposed to the beating of the elements.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What bills do you think Imogene incurred on that trip—now, jest for
- a guess?” demanded Hiram, in high good humour. “I’ve been figgerin’ it for
- fun.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It reely must be a good deal like a joke book,” observed Peak, with fine
- satire.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I can set and pee-ruse them figgers,” said Hiram, slapping the little
- book on his knee and chuckling afresh, “and think how Imogene must have
- looked passin’ through them way stations, as you might say, and then think
- how them farmers and old maids and women-folks run and squawked and
- hollered, and I get fuller of tickles inside than a settin’ hen is full of
- clucks. The trouble with you is, Sime, you ain’t got no humour.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, I’ve had mostly troubles in my time, and I ain’t got no forty
- thousand dollars in the bank, either,” said Peak, sourly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Say, you’ve been twittin’ me about that forty thousand a good deal
- lately,” snorted Hiram, glaring around over the back of the rocking-chair.
- “You ain’t begretchin’ me my own, be ye?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ev’ry man’s welcome to all he’s got, for all o’ me. I ain’t ever had
- nothin’. I don’t ever expect to have anything. But I tell ye, a man don’t
- gain in the long run by slingin’ his money around too permiscuous.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram whirled in his chair and put his little book into his pocket.
- </p>
- <p>
- “For more’n a fortnit now, Sime, you’ve been slurrin’ more or less. You’ve
- got some kind of a duflicker’s egg that you’re settin’ on. Now come off’n
- the nest and if you’ve got any cacklin’ to do, out with it so that I can
- join in!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Simon was too certain of his position as a favourite to be backed down.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I guess if speech of the people is correct,” he replied sturdily, “it’s
- well enough known why you’re ticklin’ out when you think of Imogene’s trip
- up-country.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “F’r instance, now,” suggested Hiram, his face very hard.
- </p>
- <p>
- Peak bent and poked the fire, sniffing disdainfully.
- </p>
- <p>
- “F’r instance, I said,” repeated the showman.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Say, look-a-here, Hime,” snapped Peak, whirling in his chair in his turn,
- “do you think for a minute that I don’t know why you’ve been makin’ all
- these trips up-country lately—and you a-sayin’ that you’ve got to go
- up and transact a little more bus’ness about them damages of Imogene’s?
- Now it’s about time to take some of the cuss of the thing off’n that
- elephant.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “F’r instance, I said!” yelled Hiram, standing up and clacking his fingers
- imperiously under Peak’s nose. “Out with it!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t you suppose I know that you’re courtin’ that tow-headed widder
- that’s got a farm and twenty thousand dollars in the bank? Do you think
- that you can fool me that’s summered and wintered with you? You’re
- courtin’ her, that’s what you’re doin’, and you’re layin’ it all off onto
- that elephant. Now don’t give me no more flim-flam. ’Tain’t
- professional. It’s pickin’ me up for a sucker.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The narrow eyes of the giant sparkled with suspicion and with the jealousy
- of the companion who is being supplanted and realises it.
- </p>
- <p>
- For a little while Hiram stood and glared at him and then sat down in his
- chair again. Either a sense of guilt, craft or desire to placate a friend
- caused him to moderate his demeanour.
- </p>
- <p>
- “See here, Sime,” he began, lighting a cigar to keep himself in
- countenance, “you have figgered the thing all wrong. You know I ain’t a
- marryin’ man. You and me neither of us is. I want you to live with me and
- you’re goin’ to.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I should think that the both of us has suffered enough from women as it
- is,” grumbled the giant. “Both of us knows the other’s troubles with ’em.
- And now for you to go and ram yourself right into the bramble-bush again,
- and me here to advise you, makes me mad and disgusted. I’m thinkin’ of you
- first of all, Hime. I ain’t selfish. But I can see jest how it’s goin’ to
- be: you’re goin’ to git hitched and then the first thing she’ll do will be
- to put the spittoon in the woodshed and kick me out-doors. I thought you
- knowed more than to do it—I honest thought so.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Peak bowed his head in grief.
- </p>
- <p>
- “In my whole life long I never was judged right yet by any human bein’,”
- wailed Hiram. “And now here you go off the handle jest like the rest. <i>You</i>
- know what Nymp’ Bodfish done to me. <i>You</i> know what I propose to do
- to Nymp’ Bodfish. That’s all there is to it. He wants her and the twenty
- thousand, and he’d ’a’ had her a year ago if he wasn’t hangin’ off
- about bein’ a farmer. He wants her to sell and put the money into a
- schooner, and he’s jest as much reckonin’ on that as on flood tide when
- the moon’s right. His heart is set on it. I’m goin’ to make him the
- sickest man ’tween here and the North Pole.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There was a man once that give an elephant a chaw of terbacker,” related
- Simon, “and when the doctors was tryin’ to fit some of the least mussed-up
- pieces together at the hospital, he opened his eyes and said: ‘It was a
- good one on the elephant, wasn’t it?’ and then give one hiccup and died.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you was only jest—well, say, ‘Figger-Four,’ and made such talk
- to me,” snarled Hiram, “I’d drive you right down through the floor there,
- like I’d drive a tent peg. But I’m willin’ to argue with <i>you</i>, Sime,
- and if that don’t show that I’m a friend of yours, then I don’t know what
- does.” He wiped his flushed face. “You understand, I can’t bust this thing
- in a minit.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Didn’t you yourself ketch him right in a caper that would queer him with
- any decent woman—lug-gin’ off another man’s wife ’cause he
- was hired to?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t you know that would be givin’ away the trouble of the young Mayos—and
- them livin’ together now like turtledoves?” roared Hiram. “Look at my
- brother Phin—one of God’s own gentlemen, if there ever was one. Him
- a-breakin’ his heart and misjudged and old Willard’s girl passin’ him by
- be-. cause he smashed King Bradish before her face and eyes—and
- Bradish with the last word to her! Don’t you suppose my brother could
- square himself with her by just one word of what he knows? But will he do
- it after he has passed ’Rissy Mayo his word that so long as she
- behaves herself he won’t give her away to any livin’ soul? You can say
- he’s a fool if you want to, but I tell ye, Sime, when a man has got as far
- along in life as Phin has without breakin’ his solemn word, you can’t
- blame him if he’d rather gnaw himself inside than have those whom he gives
- away scorch him outside.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He had furiously puffed his cigar down to the end. Now he lighted another.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I never approved of him carin’ a snap for the Willard girl, Sime. I don’t
- like her. I don’t like the breed. But this lovin’ of folks ain’t to be
- regulated jest the way you’d like to have it. If my brother can keep his
- mouth shut about King Bradish’s rottenness when, as you might say, it’s a
- wife at stake for him, then I guess I can keep still when it’s only a
- grudge that I’m workin’.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then it ain’t no wife in your case?” pursued Peak, suspiciously.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I tell ye, all I can do now is to hint,” insisted Hiram, evading the main
- question. “I’ve jest got her on the anxious seat. It’s the way I struck up
- her interest first of all. I couldn’t have got near her with a ten-foot
- pole if I hadn’t got her curiosity started by hints. Then, of course, she
- wanted to know what I meant and I’ve been puttin’ her off ever since. You
- never saw a woman so worked up as she is, Sime—never. She can’t
- hardly stand it till I come again. Then she lets into me to tell her all
- about Cap Bodfish. She don’t want to leave go of him till she knows
- definite. I reckon she wants to have him around so as to peel him when she
- does find out that there really is something in what I hint.” The showman
- chuckled again. “And it’s kind of what you might call a lingerin’ death
- for him—one of the slow kind like bein’ gnawed by ants. Ev’ry time
- he goes up to see her she don’t know whuther to love him or club him off’n
- the premises—and she blows hot and she blows cold all in one minit,
- and if he ain’t the wust puzzled man that ever tried to box compass in the
- sea of matrimony, then I’ll eat the celluloid peel in a side-show
- lemonade.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t he suspect what it all means?” inquired Peak, beginning to
- appreciate the situation with the malice of a man who has been fooled and
- enjoys seeing others in the same boat.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Keeps a-grabbin’ ev’ry which way like a man that hears a moskeeter
- buzzin’ round him in the night,” giggled Hiram. “I’ve set right in the
- other room sev’ral times and he didn’t know I was there, and I’ve heard
- him coax and beg and guess and promise and almost blubber, and me behind
- the door in t’other room swellin’ up and swellin’ up and then lettin’ it
- out through my nose easy, and then swellin’ up again. I don’t believe I
- shall be able to stand very much of that. I’m li’ble to bust some time.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I should think it would be well wuth list’nin’ to,” agreed Peak. Then he
- said artlessly: “I like fun myself. Why can’t I go along with you after
- this? Then there won’t be no such thing as her gettin’ her cobweb around
- you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You talk as though I was runnin’ matinées up-country,” said Hiram, the
- red on his bristly cheeks. He detected Peak’s selfish apprehension, and
- the giant’s gaze shifted under his scowl. “I never had any trouble in
- runnin’ my own bus’ness yet and I don’t expect to have to call in
- understudies right away.”
- </p>
- <p>
- In considerable dudgeon he marched along to a narrow secretary in the
- corner and began to mumble figures in an undertone as he went over his
- accounts. Peak sat gazing into the fire, twirling his huge thumbs
- thoughtfully.
- </p>
- <p>
- The sound of some one stamping off snow on the porch broke upon the
- silence of the two. The visitor came in without knocking and, fumbling his
- way along the dark entry, opened the sitting-room door.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was old Sumner Badger, the wet snow splotching his faded overcoat.
- </p>
- <p>
- “’Pears to be one o’ these ’ere sticky storms,” he observed
- amiably, pulling a chair up before the stove.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, seems to hang to <i>you</i> like dollar bills do,” retorted Hiram,
- snapping around from the secretary and squinting over his glasses. Then he
- went on with his figuring, talking half aloud. Badger surveyed the back of
- his head for some time and then said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s about that money you want to borrow of me, Capt’in.” Badger always
- bestowed this title in moments when he wanted to placate.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then you’ve collected from Willard, have you?” inquired Hiram, gruffly,
- over his shoulder. “Huh, you’ve been long enough about it. Ever since last
- fall.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, I’ve seen the Jedge,” faltered Badger; “jest come from his office
- to here. He says the town can’t raise no money to take up town notes not
- till town meetin’ in March. He says it will be made all right to me if
- I’ll wait. Now he give me to understand that I’d git seven per cent, all
- hunky if I didn’t hurry things and—no, s’r, honest to Lucifer if I
- said a word about your wantin’ the money,” he expostulated as Hiram swung
- angrily to face him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I told you I’d kill you if you did,” roared Hiram. “And I didn’t,
- Capt’in! No, s’r, when it’s money concerned I can keep my mouth shet.
- Ain’t I kept it shet all these years about the Jedge havin’ it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Let’s see!” remarked Hiram, with a sly look in his eye, as though he
- wished to test this Palermo voter. “How much money does Palermo owe,
- anyway?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t have the least idee,” blandly returned Badger, crossing his
- knees. “We all trust the Jedge to ’tend to that. <i>He</i> knows.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “So you are goin’ to let your money stay with the Judge, hey?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well—blorh hum! Well, as I was sayin’, Jedge Willard seems to be
- perfickly square about makin’ it right and—and—well, Capt’in,
- nat’rally it’s—it’s bus’ness—well, to make it an object to
- shift you might—-there’s the taxes, too——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You old harker,” cried Hiram, irefully, “what you want me to say is that
- I’ll pay you eight per cent.! ‘You’ve been whifflin’ back and forth for
- two months between Judge Willard and me. I thought you got all ready to
- die a while ago. What are you waitin’ for—to place your money out at
- eight per cent, first?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I ain’t goin’ to die,” blurted Badger. “A man’s got the right to change
- his mind, ain’t he? And they’ve found out about that Mis’ Achorn. She used
- a wax hand to make folks believe ’twas some one dead that was
- touchin’ ’em and—-”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Shet up!” barked Hiram. “Do you think I’ve been in the circus line thirty
- years to need to have fakes explained to me? It’s bus’ness I want to talk
- with you, Sum. Don’t you read your town report, you fool? Don’t you know
- that Judge Willard says there over his name that this town owes only a
- little over two thousand dollars? And yet you know, yourself, that he has
- borrowed seven thousand from you on a town note! Don’t you stop to think
- about those things? And now I’ll tell you something to make your hair
- curl! I have found out that there are twenty-five thousand dollars’ worth
- of town notes held around here by just such old blind moles as you are
- that he has told to keep still. Lord knows how many more there are. I
- don’t imagine that some would let it out if you took a knife to ’em.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He wiped the perspiration from his face and gazed at Badger as though he
- expected the information to wilt him. The avenger of the wrongs of the
- Looks was not entirely ready with the thunderbolt that he was forging for
- the town treasurer of Palermo, but the serenity of the dollar-blinded
- Badger exasperated him. For a test he wanted to see how one citizen of
- Palermo would receive the disclosure.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I tell you your treasurer is fooling the whole of ye!” he shouted. “He
- has stolen from your town.” The creditor blinked at him. “Now will you sit
- by and let him fool you with his talk of makin’ it right? Now will you try
- to screw eight per cent, out of me who’s tryin’ to bring him to the ring
- bolt? Now will you hand that note over to me or pitch in and collect it
- yourself?”
- </p>
- <p>
- To Hiram’s intense astonishment Badger slowly leaned forward, set his
- elbows on his knees, began to tap his finger-tips together, winked one
- eye, and smiled shrewdly and composedly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t you worry none about Coll Willard,” he said. “He’s a financier.” He
- rolled the word over his tongue. “His folks was financiers before him.
- Nobody can’t fool him. He’s sly. So’m I. He’s ready to help the sly folks.
- You’ve got money, but you ain’t no financier. You’re jest a circus man.
- And we ain’t your monkeys, here in P’lermo. If you want your nuts pulled
- out of the fire, pull ’em out yourself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram got up and stamped around the room in an ecstasy of rage.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’m a good mind to let you all go to Tophet by the short cut, your tails
- tied together with kerosened rags,” he gasped. “Here I am, givin’ up time
- and money to save this town from being lugged into bankruptcy, and what do
- I get? I get laughed at! Damn it!” he stormed, “there’s your last town
- report! Look for yourself! He’s lied there under oath.”
- </p>
- <p>
- With the words he threw a pamphlet into Badger’s lap. The old man promptly
- tossed the report upon the table.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You’d better stop tryin’ to work out your old grudge on Jedge Willard,”
- he advised, with a bland sapience that made the showman grit his teeth.
- “If he finds out that you’re a-slanderin’ him he’s li’ble to have the law
- on ye.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I should stand up in town meetin’ and call on you to rise and say
- whether or not you hold a town note for seven thousand dollars, I suppose
- you’ll lie, won’t you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I shall allus stand behind the man who has allus helped to put some extry
- dollars in my pocket,” said the old man, stiffly.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram seized him by the arm, hustled him to the door and thrust him out
- into the entry.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you wasn’t rank poison I’d chop you up and feed you to Imogene,” he
- shouted as he slammed the door. “If you come into my house again I’ll take
- chances and do it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The door opened promptly and the unterrified Badger poked in his head.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t s’pose you’re goin’ back on your brother Phin as a legal adviser,
- be ye?” he inquired. “Well, he advised me to hang onto my town note for a
- while and keep still till I heard from him. It wa’n’t two hours ago that
- he told me the same thing. Now I——”
- </p>
- <p>
- But when Hiram clutched a chair with a threatening motion Badger fled.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sime,” said the showman, “I’m blasted glad I had them carts painted up.
- It’s me and you for the road again next season, both of us with our knives
- out for blood and our little tin dippers held ready to catch it. I’m sick
- of tryin’ to do favours for anyone. I never saw such an ungrateful town as
- this one is.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He looked sullenly out into the driving snow.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The band seems to be doin’ well,” said Peak. “They’re havin’ three
- rehearsals a week and are pretty nigh blowin’ their lungs out. You can’t
- ask nothin’ better from the band than what you’re gittin’.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram turned from the window and gave his friend and confidant a long and
- searching stare.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Peak,” said he, “sometimes when you talk to me I think you’re in with the
- rest a-tryin’ to do me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Simon surveyed him with eyes mutely expostulating.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Other times I think you are a dummed fool. You can take your pick. Now I
- am goin’ out to associate with some one that ain’t tryin’ to pick my
- pocket the whole dog-blessed time nor spreadin’ on hair-oil talk when it
- ain’t called for.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He trudged out to the barn where Imogene was spending the winter in
- dignified ease, occupying a corner of the building that had been sheathed
- and boarded for her comfort. Here “Figger-Four” Avery tended a little
- air-tight stove, relegated to the post of menial.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram sat in silent communion with Imogene until the dusk came down. Once
- in a while he fed to her a lump of candy. Each time she curved down her
- trunk he poked a thick finger against it roguishly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ll bet ye know who sent ’em to ye—now, don’t ye?” he would
- chuckle, when Imogene gazed down on him with amiable blinkings.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XVII—WHAT DEVELOPED AT THE FORUM IN ASA BRICKETT’S STORE,
- </h2>
- <h3>
- TO AN OBBLIGATO BY LOOK’S CORNET BRASS BAND
- </h3>
- <p class="indent15">
- “Always a seat for another,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Providin’ we squeeze ’em tight;
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Stampin’ in from the smother,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- For ’tis snowin’ hard to-night.
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Time for a bit o’ smokin’,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Time for another tale,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Time for a little jokin’,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Waitin’ here for the mail.”
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- —Ballad of “The Grocery Store.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> think there’s
- more git-up and ginger in a fife and drum,” said Uncle Lysimachus Buck. He
- had cocked his ear to listen. Then he held his cane beside his lips and
- fingered imaginary stops.
- </p>
- <p>
- The windows of Hobbs’s hall, across the street from Asa Brickett’s store,
- shed their yellow gleams out upon the crisp winter night. A band rehearsal
- was going on there. The loafers who hovered about the stove in the store
- could hear the voice of the leader haranguing his men, then the robust
- attack on the tune—bass horns bellowing “oomp-pah oomps,” cornets
- blaring and clarinets wailing; then the false note, the wavering in the
- melody and the sharp command of a voice, at which the music shredded out
- into jargon and ceased. More harangue and away they all went again from
- the start!
- </p>
- <p>
- “If the dummed calves ever git so they can play a whole piece to once it
- will be wuth while list’nin’,” growled Marriner Amazeen, settling down
- once more to his whittling, after he had cocked his ear for a time.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Near’s I can find out, Hime ain’t lettin’ ’em practise nothin’ but
- them high-diddle-diddle circus tunes,” observed Uncle Buck. “Now, you take
- a fife and drum in ‘The Girl I Left Behind Me,’ or a good fiddler in ‘The
- Devil’s Dream’ or ‘Miss McCloud’s Reel,’ or even an accordion in ‘Alice,
- Where Be Ye?’ and, by swanny, you’ve got the real old ear-ticklers. But
- this squeaky-weaky, biff, bang, boom stuff ain’t music no more’n poundin’
- on a tin wash-boiler is.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But when Brickett began knocking a soap box into pieces for firewood,
- Uncle Buck bawled at him angrily.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Band tootlin’ don’t keep <i>me</i> warm,” said Brickett, as he stuffed
- the fuel into the stove. “Any time my system of runnin’ things in this
- store don’t suit the loafers, said loafers know what they can do.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ain’t no need of goin’ ’round makin’ noise jest for the sake of
- makin’ it,” replied Buck.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Then you whistle whilst I pound boxes,” said the storekeeper, grinning,
- “and p’raps it’ll remind you of a fife and drum.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Shet up a little while, won’t ye, now?” asked Micajah Dunham, wistfully.
- “Here I drive clear in from my place on band-practisin’ nights so’s to git
- a little music, and you run your clack so that a feller can’t hear.” He
- sat on the edge of a box, his purchases heaped in his lap, his fur cap on
- the floor in order that the earlappers might not obstruct his hearing.
- “Here’s a piece now that they play well,” he added, with the air of
- conviction of one who had followed faithfully the work of the new Palermo
- band.
- </p>
- <p>
- The men around the stove listened, Uncle Buck tapping his cane
- appreciatively.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There! Ain’t that good?” sighed Dunham as the band came down the
- homestretch and wound up the selection in a fine burst of melody.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I guess there ain’t no doubt but what Wat Mayo is hunky-dory as a
- musicianer,” agreed Amazeen. “I hear that the Port boys are gittin’ up a
- band, and they’re even talkin’ of one over to Newry Gore, and are goin’ to
- have Wat to teach both of ’em. I s’pose it’s all right for him to
- spend his time that way and earn a dollar, but it don’t seem much like
- man’s work to me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I s’pose you think the only real bus’ness a man ought to foller is to
- raise pertaters and fat shotes?” sarcastically observed Dunham. “I tell
- ye, I admire the Mayo boy’s spunk in makin’ something out of himself
- instead of a day-labourer. You can’t fit square pegs into round holes.
- He’s been woke up and put into the job that he fits. Now he’ll amount to
- some thing. Folks gen’rally amount to something when they git woke up—if
- it ain’t too late,” he added with a sigh. He snuggled his heap of parcels
- together on his knees. “I ought to be goin’ home,” he said, half to
- himself. “But, I swan, I’d like to hear one more tune.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You seem to be livin’ pretty well nowadays out to your house,” remarked
- Uncle Buck, with a sly look at the bundles.
- </p>
- <p>
- “’Tain’t no more than bringin’ up the gen’ral av’rage, when you
- think of what we’ve missed to our house,” was Dunham’s stout rejoinder. He
- was ready nowadays to meet fearlessly the malicious thrusts of his old
- neighbours, with his new gospel of life.
- </p>
- <p>
- The music recommenced again across the street. This time the band was
- playing an accompaniment for a cornet solo by its leader. The notes,
- dulcet in the distance, seemed almost phrasing a song. Dunham’s eyes
- moistened with the sudden emotion of his simple nature.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know you all have a good deal of fun behind my back about the way I’ve
- shifted over,” he said, quietly. “I know that it makes you laugh to hear
- me go ’round preachin’ about gittin’ a little something out of life
- as you go along. I don’t care if you do laugh. Laugh! The more ye laugh,
- the less you’ll growl. But me and my wife has woke up, and we don’t care
- who knows it, and if some of the rest of you would wake up, too, you’d
- find that the only thing the sun shines for ain’t to raise crops and make
- freckles.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “P’raps if all of us could git holt of a ready-made, grown-up daughter, as
- good as the one you’ve got, we might improve some,” said Buck, with a wink
- at his associates in “hector.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “P’raps you could,” Dunham answered, simply and earnestly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, it makes a pretty good berth for a poor girl, ’Caje,” said a
- man behind the stove. “Most anyone would like to be adopted into a fam’ly
- like yours.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It ain’t that way, neighbours,” Dunham said softly, his face in the
- direction of the music. “When we adopted ’Liza Haskell we was
- gettin’ the best end of the bargain, if ye want to put it on that kind of
- a basis. We was both all corners before—sharp corners at that. I
- ain’t backward about ownin’ up—we f’it, me and Esther, like fury,
- and we didn’t know what was the matter with us. But somehow there don’t
- seem to be any corners in our house now. Them that ain’t filled with new
- chairs and pictur’s is all full o’ sunshine. There ain’t a room in the
- house that looks like it used to—with the furniture standin’ round
- jest as though it had been used at a funeral last and was where the
- undertaker arranged it. We didn’t know what the matter was, I say—me
- and Esther didn’t. We don’t know jest how it’s come about nov. But we do
- know that we’ve adopted something besides a poor little girl—we’ve
- adopted sunshine and sweetness and comfort and new notions about livin’
- and lovin’ and havin’.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He stood up and piled his parcels upon his arm.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s the way it is to our house nowadays, neighbours. I used to like to
- set here the whole ev’nin’ in the store before—but now—well,
- when I git to thinkin’ about how home is, why, it takes more than them
- pretty tunes to hold me here. There’s music to our house that’s better
- than all the brass bands in the world.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He went out and they heard the jingle of his sleigh-bells threading
- through the mellow notes of the cornet.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He was allus sort of a soft old fool when you got under his shell,”
- scoffed Uncle Buck, grinding his cane against the rusty stove. “What I
- can’t understand is how Esther ever come ’round as she did. I allus
- thought she was harder’n nails.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, it took Squire Phin to warm her ear-wax,” said Amazeen. “And when you
- know how to handle a woman like that, why, you’ve got her—that’s
- all. I cal’late there ain’t a man in the county that understands human
- natur’ better’n Squire Phin does. He can handle ’em all right when
- he makes up his mind to.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Buck was plainly nettled by Amazeen’s air of easy confidence.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, there’s one woman that he don’t seem to be able to handle—and
- I reckon he’d like to at that,” he snorted. “Sylvene Willard ain’t hardly
- spoke to him since he knocked her feller down.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t cal’late as how you’ve got any right to call King Bradish her
- feller,” objected Amazeen.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I donno why not,” snapped Uncle Buck. “Jedge Willard come right out after
- that happened and said that Sylvene and King was goin’ to git married at
- Christmas time, and Sylvene didn’t dispute him. It’s past Christmas time
- now, to be sure, but as I understand it, King is tied up in New York by
- bus’ness and ain’t been able to git back since he went away a little spell
- ago.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Little spell ago!” cried Amazeen. “He ain’t been back since he went away
- that time in the fall when Hime’s el’phunt got loose.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mebbe, but time slides away kind o’ fast,” grudgingly admitted Buck.
- “Howsomever, they’ll git married all right when he comes back. If Coll
- Willard says so, then they will, that’s all! Phin Look can’t stop it. His
- cake was dough when he licked Bradish.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “As I’ve allus understood the row, King had the right of it,” observed the
- man behind the stove.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, the Jedge himself told me,” said Buck, “that all King done in the
- world was to step up to the Squire and call him into line for braggin’
- round how he’d cut out King the night before and walked home with Sylvene
- from the schoolhouse out Dunham’s way. Jedge told me so himself. That’s
- comin’ pretty straight!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, now, that don’t seem like Squire Phin Look,” broke in Amazeen,
- wagging his head decisively. “I’ve heard that version, but it don’t seem
- like Squire Phin—and we’ve known him a long time, too.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He ain’t ever given the lie to the Jedge,” said Buck. “He ain’t ever said
- aye, yes or no about it. Nat’rally think, then, he must be ashamed of it,
- wouldn’t ye? I tell ye, boys, when there’s a woman in the case we don’t
- none of us know what the best of us might do. Squire Phin Look is an
- almighty nice man, good and kind-hearted and smarter’n a whip. I’ve allus
- stood up for him, and I was in the scheme——” He checked
- himself suddenly in some confusion with a side glance at Amazeen. “I was
- in hopes that the match wouldn’t come off with Bradish. But the Squire
- went and lost his head and kicked up—-like the best do sometimes
- when there’s a woman in the case. Sylvene Willard ain’t the woman to stand
- that kind of bus’ness. You can’t blame her. I say she and Bradish will git
- married, and you can mark my word on it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A man sat on a bit of board that was laid across an unheaded keg of nails.
- He had been listening, elbows on his knees, his brown hands braiding and
- unbraiding a length of rope with a sailor’s deftness. This man was Mate
- Seekins of the <i>A. P. Bristol</i>, home in Palermo for his midwinter
- lay-off.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What do they hear here in town from Bradish?” he inquired. There was a
- suppressed note of meaning in his voice that the little crowd did not
- catch.
- </p>
- <p>
- The men about the stove looked at each other. “Nothin’,” at last blurted
- Uncle Buck.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What bus’ness is he a-follerin’ of in New York?” asked Seekins.
- </p>
- <p>
- “As near’s I’ve ever come to it,” said Buck, “him and the Jedge is in some
- kind of financierin’ together and King’s handlin’ that end of it. But the
- Jedge don’t put his bus’ness into the <i>Seaside Oracle</i> and King ain’t
- the kind that writes letters to be read out loud here in Ase’s store,” he
- added grimly. “I s’pose his mother hears reg’lar and the Jedge and
- Sylvene, but the Bradishes and the Willards never messed in very thick
- with their neighbours. Sum and substance is, we don’t know not the first
- dum thing about King Bradish nor his bus’ness, nor why he closed up
- bus’ness here in the hurry that he did and got out of the place. And I
- donno as I care. I never had no use for the skunk, anyway.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He pared a corner from a black plug of tobacco, stuck it into his cheek
- and relapsed into dignified silence.
- </p>
- <p>
- The man on the keg braided at his rope-end.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I shouldn’t want him to do no gre’t amount of financierin’ for me,” he
- said at last. “Bradish, I mean.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I donno ’bout that,” Amazeen said. “He was allus pretty sharp on a
- dicker ’round here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I say I shouldn’t want him to do my financierin’ for me,” persisted Mate
- Seekins.
- </p>
- <p>
- The group waited for him to go on, but he kept at his braiding.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, you’ve gone that fur. Keep on,” commanded Uncle Buck.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I ain’t no hand to peddle gossip,” said Seekins.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who said ye was?” Lysimachus’s tone was indignant. “And there ain’t no.
- call for you to hint that we’re gossips here. If you ain’t man enough to
- dast to say what you know, then keep still and much good may it do you.”
- But the old man’s eyes gleamed with curiosity. “Half truths are wusser’n
- whole lies,” he muttered. “I ain’t no hand to talk and tell,” went on
- Seekins, “but when I say I don’t want him to financier for me I mean to
- say that I don’t want any man handlin’ my money that keeps drunk as a
- fiddler’s hoorah.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The music from across the street bellowed in louder blast, for the store
- door opened with a bang and Hiram Look came stamping in.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do me up a slab of cheese and plenty of crackers, Colonel Brickett,” he
- called. “Wider’n that,” he snapped as Brickett set his knife on the
- cheese. “Look’s Cornet Brass Band ain’t eatin’ no half rations so long as
- old Hime himself is on hand to buy for ’em.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He beamed on the circle of faces about the stove, for the inspiration of
- his favourite tunes made him genial.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How does that sound to you, old turkles?” he cried, with a backward jab
- of his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of Hobbs’s hall. “It’s
- sort of wakin’ up Palermo, hey?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I suppose it will be good enough when they can play without soundin’ like
- bullfrogs with the croup,” returned Uncle Buck, sulkily. Hiram had come in
- at just the time when he had edged forward to put some leading questions
- to Mate Seekins. He turned to the sailor again.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You was sayin’——” he began.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You never heard nothin’ in your life before but a melodeon and a jew’s
- harp, you old Fiji,” shouted Hiram, thrusting forward close to the stove.
- “There’s about a half dozen of you old mossbacks that ain’t come to enough
- to appreciate what I’m doin’ for this place. But I’ve got the crowd with
- me. I’ll show ye in town meeting next March! I can run that band myself,
- so fur’s that comes to; but I’m goin’ to make some of you old hogs of
- taxpayers chip in to support it. I’m goin’ to have an article put in
- appropriating two hundred dollars for band concerts next summer, and I’ll
- carry it through.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “This town won’t vote for no such dum foolishness,” retorted Buck. He
- turned to Seekins again, his curiosity mastering his spirit of
- controversy.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You was sayin’ as how——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bet you fifty, and put the money in Brickett’s hands right now,” bellowed
- Hiram, ever eager for opportunities to browbeat the old men of the
- village. He dug into his trousers pocket.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why don’t you wear that wad o’ money hung round your neck out in plain
- sight?” demanded Uncle Lysimachus, angrily. “You seem bound and determined
- to have it under our noses all the whol’ time.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Put up your stuff,” cried Hiram. “Make a pool if ye want to. I ain’t
- afraid of the gang of you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He whirled and ran his hale eye along their faces. Dow Babb, who had been
- chief of the Palermo hand-tub brigade for many years, unhooked his toe
- from his instep, recrossed his legs and said with decision:
- </p>
- <p>
- “You can’t run the <i>whole</i> of this town, Hime, even if you are
- runnin’ a part of it jest now. You wait your turn with your brass band.
- I’ve been before town meetin’ for four years, now, a-askin’ and implorin’
- the voters to appropriate enough to repair Hecla and buy some more hose.
- They ain’t give me a cent. Now if you go to work and bull through any such
- article in the warrant as you’re braggin’ you will, then all I’ve got to
- say is that the next time a fire breaks out in the village, your darned
- old band can go and play on it. The Hecla comp’ny never will.” Uncle Buck,
- unable to control himself any longer, got up and pounded his cane on the
- floor.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ve heard all the tow-rowin’ I want to hear. Here I be tryin’ to talk
- with Mr. Seekins about something that amounts to something. And ye can’t
- hear yourself think. Take your cheese and your crackers, Hime Look, and go
- over and stuff ’em into your toodle-oodlers. Let gentlemun that’s
- a-talkin’ serious bus’ness go on with their serious bus’ness. Now,
- Seekins, you said as how you’d seen King Bradish drunker’n a fiddler’s
- hoorah. What else?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I never said I seen him,” returned the man, sullenly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s the same thing; you meant it. Go ahead.” The old man’s tone was
- imperious.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram and the rest of the crowd turned to him, inquiry on their faces. The
- showman leaned forward with especial insistence.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I ain’t no hand to tattle——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You said that before, consarn ye!” This persistent delay that baffled
- Uncle Buck’s curiosity made him furious.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No matter what you see or what you didn’t see,” said Hiram. “The idea is,
- what do you <i>know?</i>” There was no resisting the force of
- circumstances. “Well,” roared Seekins, “I know that King Bradish is
- keepin’ full of licker in New York and throwin’ money right and left and
- over his shoulder—or has been so long’s he had it to throw. He’s
- gone to Tophet, that’s what he’s done, and if what I hear up at the other
- end is true, he’s got a string hitched to certain parties in this place
- and he’s goin’ to drag ’em with him. Now that’s all you’re goin’ to
- git out of me,” he concluded, throwing the rope-end into the wood-box and
- rising. “I don’t propose to git into no trouble by talkin’ and tellin’.
- I’ve seen people that done that. If any’s interested, let ’em go to
- New York and to the right people and they’ll find out for themselves.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He pushed through the little circle and went out of the store.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram seized his crackers and cheese and started after him, overtaking the
- sailor in the middle of the square.
- </p>
- <p>
- One after the other, the old men blunted their noses against the frosty
- panes of Brickett’s front window, trying to spy and to hear. But only the
- mumble of voices reached them, Hiram’s tone insistent, Seekins’s
- deprecatory.
- </p>
- <p>
- But at last Hiram slapped him cordially on the back and the two separated.
- A sudden cessation in the band music showed that the refreshments had
- arrived in the hall, and the old men yawned about Brickett’s stove and one
- by one went home.
- </p>
- <p>
- One or two persons saw Hiram Look drive out of the yard of the old place
- the next forenoon and take the road toward Square Harbour, his tall hat
- projecting just above the high back of his sleigh, and fat ear-muffs
- cosily snuggling his ears.
- </p>
- <p>
- These one or two asked “Figger-Four” Avery about the showman’s departure,
- when he came to the store during the day, after a “fig" of tobacco.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Here’s what he said to me,” stated Avery: “Says he, ‘I’m goin’ to Europe,
- I-rope and A-rope after wild animiles, and I’ll be back when I git
- damation good and ready. If you miss feedin’ Imogene on the dot or let the
- fire git low in the stove, I’ll warp t’other leg for you.’ There! That’s
- what he said, and if you can git any more out of it than what I have,
- you’re welcome to. I guess you’d better give me another fig o’ terbacker,
- Ase, for I’m goin’ to stay pretty clus to that barn till he gits back.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I s’pose you know all about el’phunts now, don’t you, Avery?” inquired
- one of the men who lounged about the stove, toasting their shins.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Wal, I know this much,” said “Figger-Four,” putting away his weed and
- buttoning his coat before facing the cold; “I know that an el’phunt wants
- meals reg’lar—a lot of it, can’t understand a joke and don’t like
- music on the flute. There may be other things about ’em to know,
- but they ain’t things that I need in my bus’ness.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XVIII—YANKEE DISPOSITION IS NOT EXACTLY UNDERSTOOD,
- </h2>
- <h3>
- EVEN BY ITS POSSESSORS.
- </h3>
- <p class="indent15">
- “Old Zibe Haines had a corn on his toe
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And it ached like ginger ev’ry step he’d go.
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- He reckoned that toe had all them pains
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Jest for to hector old Zibe Haines.
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- He grabbed up a mallet and a chisel, too,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And clear’n to the woodpile swore things blue.
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- He put that toe on the choppin’ block
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And off he whacked it, slap, ker-chock!
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And he throwed that toe ’bout ha’f a mile—
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Oh, that was old Zibe Haines’s style.
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Tum-diddy-dum and tum-diddy-dee,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Queer old crab was Haines, was he!”
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- —Narrated by Marriner Amazeen.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>quire Phineas
- Look, during the life of his love for Sylvena Willard, had become pretty
- thoroughly accustomed to having his heart affairs marked “Continued till
- next session,” as he half-bitterly termed it in his meditations.
- </p>
- <p>
- Coupled with Squire Phin’s natural reserve was that quality of his trained
- lawyer mind that was willing to abide delays till “his case was prepared.”
- </p>
- <p>
- In some men this would have been timidity.
- </p>
- <p>
- In others it would have been half-heartedness.
- </p>
- <p>
- In Squire Phin it was fixity of purpose and the steady loyalty of a firm,
- pure, true love that could wait.
- </p>
- <p>
- Down in Smyrna the summer visitors still listen with mingled emotions to
- the story of the loves of Moses Britt and Xoa Emerson.
- </p>
- <p>
- After they became engaged Moses worked for eight years accumulating enough
- money to buy three-eights of a fishing schooner. Xoa toiled at housework
- in various families, picked blueberries for the canning factory, and, by
- any employment that came to her hand, earned and saved for the little home
- that they had planned.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We won’t get married till we can have our house built and furnished and
- ready to step into,” was the mark they had set thriftily for themselves.
- </p>
- <p>
- The house went up, so old Mell Cowallis remarked, like the way
- “Figger-Four” Avery walked—steady by jerks: one year the foundation,
- another year the side walls and roof, a third year the chimneys and the
- lathing and clapboards—and so on for successive seasons, according
- as the fishing prospered and the work-stained fingers of Xoa tucked away
- the clinking change and the worn dollar bills.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now it came to the time when Xoa resolved to fulfill the dream of her life
- and have a bow window of ample dimensions, the model of the one on Sheriff
- Morton’s big house, where she had worked for years in the kitchen, envying
- all the time the luxurious ease of the sheriff’s wife lolling on a divan
- in the window. But this window meant postponing the marriage a year, and
- with the house so nearly completed Moses had begun to express an entirely
- natural anxiety to get married.
- </p>
- <p>
- Xoa, with the bow window filling her vision, could not understand this
- sudden haste in one who had been always as philosophic over delays as she
- herself.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You think more of your old bow winder than you do of me,” cried Moses, in
- sudden jealousy. And he sailed away on a trip to the Banks, biting his
- stubbly gray beard in pique.
- </p>
- <p>
- And ere one week had gone a legacy came to Xoa from her aunt Persis—just
- enough of a legacy to put on that bow window. So she hired carpenters in
- haste and set them at work, determined to have her way before the return
- of Moses. On one evening when the expanse of glass in that window was
- glowing redly in the beams of the setting sun, the “Xoa and Laura” sailed
- up the reach with her flag at half mast, and reported the loss of Moses
- Britt and his dory mate, smashed under in a fog by a roaring steamship.
- </p>
- <p>
- Those who know say that Xoa knelt all night in her new bow window, with
- her face against the glass, and when morning came she called the
- carpenters again, and with clamour of hammers and rasp of saws they took
- off the bow window and boarded the side of the building up. And then—it
- being a case where the solemn ceremony could be deferred till all was
- ready—she secured a casket from the city, put into it all the
- pathetic old clothes that had been turned over to her with Moses’s
- dunnage-bag, called in the parson and the neighbours, and the funeral of
- Moses Britt was decorously carried out in a house upon which the soul of
- the bridegroom-elect could look down from on high and not take exceptions.
- </p>
- <p>
- For forty years after that, until death took her, Xoa lived an old maid in
- the bow-windowless house.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is not likely that Squire Phin Look used this case or any others
- similar for precedents in heart affairs, as he would have employed
- law-court decisions in his legal practice, but he had in his New England
- temperament a finer grade of the same iron-stone that is found in such
- dispositions as those of Moses and Xoa.
- </p>
- <p>
- So much for the steadiness and the reserve of his affection in the past.
- </p>
- <p>
- Since that unfortunate day in the fall there had been something else than
- reserve to make him walk hastily past the Willard place, to keep him away
- from the little social gatherings in the meeting-house vestry, and he
- avoided Sylvena Willard with as much anxiety as she appeared to avoid him.
- He was as ashamed of that blow as he would have been of a crime. Now that
- the rage of the provocation had departed, he knew that his act had been a
- vulgar street affray—there was no other word for it in his
- vocabulary.
- </p>
- <p>
- When some of the jesters in the attorneys’ room at county court mentioned
- the affair at the December term with many humorous inquiries, he was so
- overwhelmed with shame that he asked continuance for most of his cases and
- hurried home.
- </p>
- <p>
- Yet he heard other things at that term of court that disquieted him more.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, Look, I <i>know</i> it!” one of his lawyer friends had insisted,
- when he ventured to remonstrate at certain gossip. “I don’t know how much
- property Judge Willard has got, nor what resources are back of him. But I
- do know that he is as pinched for ready money as the devil. I can talk
- with you without it’s going any farther; but being a trustee in a savings
- bank and a director in a national bank, I come pretty near knowing when a
- man is hustling hard for loans, and you can tell how hard he is hustling
- from the kind of collateral he is offering. I’ve got nothing against the
- Judge, but I’m afraid he’s in over his head with Bradish. Your Bradish has
- been a country plunger for a long time—and the country plunger is
- the worst of the breed. He thinks he knows it all and is working the stock
- market at arm’s length. I know, myself, that one bucket shop let him down
- for sixteen thousand in a single blind pool. Willard seems to have played
- fox with you folks in Palermo through it all, and, of course, he’s had a
- great start of you with his reputation and all that. But if he’s your town
- treasurer, as I hear he is, and custodian of about all the funds of widows
- and orphans and old codgers in your town, give him a looking over and do
- it right away. You can’t afford to let even a Willard dump the whole of
- you—especially when it looks to me as though this Bradish is the
- chap responsible for getting him into this mess and has gobbled most of
- the money.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But even with that warning to spur him, Squire Look allowed the weeks to
- pass without setting about any thorough investigation of Judge Willard’s
- finances. If he were any other than Seth Look’s boy—-Hiram Look’s
- brother, he felt that the case would be different. Whenever he paused in
- his work to ponder on the matter and on his duty to the citizens, he
- groaned under his breath and put the thing away from him once more.
- </p>
- <p>
- And as the winter went on the Squire found less and less time to think
- upon anything but his own matters.
- </p>
- <p>
- The State legislature had recognised his modest but just reputation as one
- of the best-grounded “straight” lawyers in the State, and on the
- recommendation of the judges had selected him as the reviser of the
- statutes, a labour that he found exacting and absorbing.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then on the heels of this work came a syndicate with a scheme for helping
- municipalities to instal and own their own water plants, despite the
- statutory restrictions that allow towns to assume so much debt and no
- more. The syndicate had heard of the Squire’s legal invention of “water
- districts” that he had studied out in the dumbly approving presence of his
- “Creosote Supreme Court” and expounded to the amazement of lawyers who
- studied for a while and then accepted.
- </p>
- <p>
- And the syndicate would not listen to a nay and laid a certified check in
- his hands of a size that would have caused Asa Brickett to swoon had he
- realised that so large a consideration had passed over his head, and on
- the first warming days of March thousands of picks and shovels were ready
- to follow Squire Phineas Look when he had brushed away the last tangle of
- litigation.
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Buck had passed the necessary word among the veteran loafers who
- used to occupy the lawyer’s shaky chairs.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He’s busier’n a yaller dog with a tin can of snap-crackers tied to his
- tail, and he don’t want nobody up there unless they come on straight
- bus’ness.”
- </p>
- <p>
- So all day long, whether the snow beat against the panes or the sun shone
- warm upon his broad back down through the bare elms, the Squire sat at his
- big table, his pen busy, scratchity-scratch, or his eyebrows frowning
- above some volume of reports, his old dog Eli curled on the dusty floor at
- his feet.
- </p>
- <p>
- And the only ones who stamped up the slippery outside stairs were those
- who came on business.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was on business that Judge Collamore Willard came one snowy, blowy day
- in March, the wind whipping his cloak about his skinny legs as he toiled
- up the stairs leading to Squire Phin’s office. He came in with the gust
- casting a last handful of snow at his back, as a roguish youth snowballs a
- figure that is aged and eccentric.
- </p>
- <p>
- It <i>was</i> a queer figure that sat slowly down in one of the Squire’s
- chairs, unwrapping fold on fold of a huge shawl that was coiled about his
- head and long, thin neck. He had pulled the mitten from one of his hands
- and the gaunt phalanges looked like a bundle of reeds tied together by
- skin-strips. The skin was speckled with the brown spots of age and the
- hand fluttered as it tugged at the shawl.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire put his knees against the edge of the table, sat back in his
- chair, and poised his pen in silent amazement for a moment. Then he
- pointed the pen at the stove.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Better sit close, Judge,” he admonished. “The draughts get to sky-larking
- through here pretty lively on windy days.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I ought not to have come out this day,” said the old man querulously.
- “But I didn’t want to send word to you to come to my office for fear you
- would think it strange and not come. And I felt that I had much need to
- see you, Lawyer Look.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I would have come if you had sent word,” said the Squire, simply. He did
- not utter his curt “What can I do for you?” so common with him in these
- busy times, but looked at his visitor with inquiring gaze.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Haven’t you got any influence or control over that fool brother of
- yours?” demanded the Judge, bluntly and indignantly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t care to reply to questions of that sort put in that fashion,”
- returned the lawyer, knitting his brows.
- </p>
- <p>
- Willard stared a moment into his face with its hard lines and then shifted
- his eyes under the steady gaze of the Squire.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t mean to be tart with you, Mr. Look,” he said, moderating his
- tone, “but I don’t think you ought to let your brother come into this
- town, after all that’s happened, and do what he is trying to do to me and
- mine. You’re a man of standing and I’m going to say to you that I think
- you are above such things.”
- </p>
- <p>
- His apology was awkward and half-hearted.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Aren’t you going to handle him and prevent him from making a fool of
- himself?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t care to enter into any statement to you, Judge Willard, of
- certain family discussions that have already occurred between my brother
- and myself. I simply want to state for your benefit that I have no
- sympathy with certain movements of his. But my brother’s business is his
- own, Judge. He has adopted his own manner of living and occupies his own
- apartments at our house, and if you care to talk this matter over with him
- you’ll find him there at any time. I shall not interfere in his affairs.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I can’t talk with him,” remonstrated the old man. “There isn’t any sense
- in him. With him it is either a curse or a blow, and the Willard family
- has had enough of both from him. I have come to talk with you, Mr. Look.
- Whatever else I have said to you and of you, I’ll acknowledge that you are
- a fair man to talk with.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The lawyer made no reply.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ll say nothing to you of his under-handed tricks to interfere in my
- business of loans and private banking,” went on Willard, stroking his
- trembling hand along his withered neck. “But now he is going to mix into
- town politics with his brass band and his free suppers and free dances and
- his circus flapdoodle. It’s hurting this town, Lawyer Look, and I appeal
- to you as a good citizen of Palermo to pull him back and make him behave
- himself and not bring discredit on the place that I and mine before me
- have been proud of so long.” There was some dignity as well as earnest
- appeal in the old man’s voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I understand that he has the hoodlums with him,” he went on. “He can make
- a lot of trouble in our town meeting this month. We have always got along
- so well that it will be a shame to bring uproar and contention and
- cheapness into our town affairs, Mr. Look.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Delicacy of touch at critical moments was not one of Squire Phineas Look’s
- attributes. Now he leaned his elbows on the table, locked his fingers
- together, and bending toward the old man said bluntly:
- </p>
- <p>
- “What you mean is, that it would be bad for you if you were defeated for
- town treasurer, after your thirty years of service, since that would mean
- that your books would be examined.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He pitied Willard when he crumpled down in his chair. In the silence the
- lawyer had the queer thought come to him that the old man’s flabby
- neck-skin looked like turkey’s wattles, flushed with dull red as they were
- now.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That is a cruel taunt—an unjust advantage to take of a man who has
- served his town so many years, Lawyer Look. I’ll own to you that I do have
- some pride in the fact that I have been treasurer of this town so long. I
- have set my heart on being reelected. It’s an old man’s whim, Mr. Look—just
- an old man’s whim, and it would hurt my feelings cruelly if the voters
- allowed your brother to work out his grudge in that way. If I could only
- have another year—if I——”
- </p>
- <p>
- The lawyer, who had been steadily staring into his shifting eyes, broke in
- upon his faltering appeal.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I always hate to see any living creature squirm, whether it’s an
- angle-worm on a hook or a man on the rack of his own conscience,” he said
- in his blunt, brusque manner. “I never delighted in torturing anything,
- Judge. This is something like killing a creature to put it out of its
- misery, but I’m not going to beat about the bush.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Willard had hooked his thin hands around the rungs of his chair and was
- staring at the attorney with horror in his eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know why you want to be re-elected town treasurer,” went on the Squire.
- “You want to cover up the fact that you’re an embezzler of almost forty
- thousand dollars of the town’s funds——-Oh, I know what you are
- going to say,” he cried, holding up his hand; “you are going to say that
- you’ve only hired this money on town’s notes and are going to pay it back,
- and that if you can be re-elected no one will be the wiser. You are
- begging for time, Judge. But I tell you”—he stood up and pounded the
- table—“you have stolen that money! You cannot pay it back. It’s no
- use for you to deceive me by stories. Every dollar of property you have in
- the world is mortgaged for every cent it is worth, and that money and the
- money you have stolen from this town have gone—gone down into that
- hole of speculation, to the side of which King Bradish led with his
- devilish arts and promises. You’re ruined, Judge Willard, you’re ruined—and
- God only knows how many other poor people you will drag down with you in
- this town—people whose little capital is all in your hands! I curse
- Bradish, first, for I believe if it hadn’t been for him no Willard would
- have turned out of the straight path his ancestors always followed. But I
- curse you, Judge Willard, for having allowed yourself to be inveigled into
- dishonesty and the betrayal of the great trust that has been placed in
- your hands. You have called me various names in the past,” he went on, his
- eyes flashing and the passionate anger of the Look temperament getting the
- better of his self-control; “I simply want to say to you now that you”—he
- leaned forward, supporting himself by his knuckles on the table—“are
- as miserable a thief as I ever knew. For when you fall—a man trusted
- by all—you have taken away Palermo’s strongest prop of good example
- from the poor, weak devils who are trying to be honest in their poverty.”
- </p>
- <p>
- For a long time the two men looked at each other, the Squire stern and
- angry, the Judge writhing in his self-abasement.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then the old man’s secret passed from his desperate clinch on it. He
- trembled like a leaf, but there was a certain air of relief in his
- confession and appeal.
- </p>
- <p>
- “God help me, Squire,” he wailed. “No, God cannot help me. But you can. I
- am in awful trouble, Squire Look—awful! But it mustn’t be exposed
- now, it mustn’t. If I can only tide it over this town meeting I can work
- out of it. We got caught on the wrong side, King and I. It happened that
- way right along until I knew it was wrong for us to work at arm’s length
- from the market. But now that King is up there where he can study things,
- we’re coming out all right. We can’t help coming out all right. I have sat
- up night after night for weeks, Squire, and figured. I haven’t slept for
- weeks and weeks. I have raked and scraped together all I could and now we
- are going to win. King has it in his hands. It’s going to win, I tell you!
- Only help me to tide it over this town meeting, Squire. It was a mistake
- going into it. I realise it now. But I had to stay in. I was tied up with
- King. But this time we are going to win. We can’t help winning. Here’s
- King’s letter explaining the last deal.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He tore at the breast of his frock coat and pulled out a crumpled
- envelope.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, it’s got to come out right now,” the old man mumbled on appealingly.
- “I have sat up nights at my desk till my eyes were almost burned out,
- planning and figuring. Here’s the letter, Squire. I’m going to be honest
- with you at last. You can help me. You’ve got to help me!”
- </p>
- <p>
- His trembling fingers pulled the letter from the envelope, but the lawyer
- motioned it back.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Excuse me, Judge,” he said, “but I don’t want to touch it. I’d rather
- take hold of an adder from Watson’s bog. There’s less poison in the adder.
- He has poisoned you through and through, Judge. I know more of King
- Bradish in New York than you do. I——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s your brother that has come back and lied about him!” cried the old
- man with reviving passion. “It’s all lies! Lies!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I say that I know about King Bradish,” pursued the lawyer with the calm,
- dispassionate tone of utter conviction. “He has become a rake, a
- spendthrift and a drunkard. He was all three when he lived here, but he
- hid his passions. He ran away because he had stolen from you and was
- afraid to face your ruin. He has thrown away the money you have sent to
- him. You have nothing to hope from him, Judge. If I am cruel I am at least
- honest, for now is the time for honesty. You are in an awful position.
- Glossing over the situation cannot help you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He looked with pity into the gray face of the village magnate, for he
- never saw anguish drawn in more agonising lines on the human countenance.
- Then the face puckered with the sudden emotion of an old man, wearied,
- driven to his last ditch and become a child again. He wept weakly, and the
- lawyer sat back in his chair and watched him without a word, his brows
- knitted in thought.
- </p>
- <p>
- At last the old man rose and gathered his shawl about his neck. With a
- pitiful attempt he had regained some of the old-time dignity.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I had no right to come to you, Mr. Look,” he said. “I didn’t realise how
- the interview would come out. I hoped that you would control your brother,
- that’s all, and give me one chance to save myself from State’s prison. I
- can understand perfectly why you should not be willing to help. I don’t
- blame you. Probably I should do the same under similar circumstances. It’s
- only human nature. Excuse me for giving way, but—it was pretty
- sudden for an old man.” His lips quivered.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire overtook him at the door and led him back to his chair gently,
- but with a quiet decision that the Judge did not attempt to resist. Then
- the lawyer leaned against one corner of the table and looked down on the
- man before him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s bad, Judge Willard! It’s bad,” he said earnestly. “Both of us have
- passed our opinions of each other in the past, and it didn’t do either of
- us any good. Neither of us will now make any false pretences of friendship
- or forgiveness. We’ll leave affairs between us just as they stand. I am
- going to own up to you that in an investigation of the town’s affairs I
- shall show up badly myself, for I have been knowing to irregularities for
- some months and I have no explanation to offer why I did not report and
- interfere. It is for my interest, therefore, to attempt to arrange this
- matter. It is for the interest of Palermo in general to arrange it if we
- can. Your family has been our model of integrity for a long time. To say
- nothing of money loss, the showing up of this terrible thing will have an
- effect on morals and business confidence that our poor little town will
- not recover from in years. It is on my own and the people’s account that I
- am willing to say this to you—and that is: If it is within the power
- of one man to do it, I will try to avert this calamity from this town. I
- cannot tell you just how, for I do not know myself. I haven’t had time to
- think about it. It is too painful to talk about any longer now. Go home
- and put your affairs into such shape that I may determine your obligations
- and your resources.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Judge weakly stammered promises, explanations and appeal, and would
- have stayed, but the lawyer, with some impatience, helped him to tuck his
- shawl about his neck, handed him his cane and opened the outside door.
- </p>
- <p>
- But he stopped him on the threshold.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I hear that you have sent one more dollar to Bradish or have had truck
- or dealing of any sort with him after this talk of ours, I’ll have no more
- to do with the affair. I’m not much of a man to threaten, but that’s
- something you can depend upon.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The lawyer stood at his side window and watched the old man buffeting his
- way up the street, the corners of his shawl streaming on the wind, his
- slender legs quivering like reeds.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’d hate to be cross-examined on a witness stand as to why I made such a
- promise to him,” he muttered, and then he put another stick into the
- stove, spatted his hands, gave the old dog an affectionate cuff, and went
- back to his work.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XIX—SQUIRE PHIN SEES AND REPLEVINS WHAT BELONGS TO HIM
- </h2>
- <h3>
- IN MANNER DECIDEDLY SUMMARY
- </h3>
- <p class="indent15">
- Then twice and thrice the youth’s parched lips
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Strive hard to frame the longed-for word;
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And twice and thrice he tries again,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Yet not a single sound is heard.
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- There’s just an upward flash of eyes
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Like starlight in a forest pool;
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- She may have said, “Take heart, dear one!”
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- She may have said, “Go on, thou fool!”
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- —The “Quaker Wooing.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>ome of the older
- voters in Palermo relate that once a constable obeyed the injunction to
- post a caucus call “in a public place” by sticking the paper on the wall
- under the roller towel in Asa Brickett’s store. It is further related that
- no one heard of that caucus until it was over, except the few chosen ones
- let into the secret.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the warrant for the annual town meeting in Palermo that March, done in
- the best roundhand of the second selectman, one copy tacked onto the
- townhouse door, another copy pasted up in the post-office, another nailed
- to the round centre post in Brickett’s store, received the careful
- attention of every voter.
- </p>
- <p>
- Each sheet was banded by several broad smooches that distinguished the
- articles in the warrant to which especial public interest attached. Each
- voter, as he read these, carefully ran his finger along the lines across
- the paper, so as not to miss a word, for it was understood that the new
- faction in town politics, captained by Hiram Look, had obtained the
- insertion of those articles.
- </p>
- <p>
- One was, “To see if the town will vote a sum of money for the support of
- the ‘Look Cornet Brass Band,’ or act anything thereto.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Popular interest in this measure was shown by a fair amount of
- discoloration on the paper.
- </p>
- <p>
- A deeper tint attached to Article 15: “To see if the town will vote to pay
- its floating indebtedness, statement of complete amount of same to be
- furnished the voters from his books by the town treasurer prior to the
- call for the ballot.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Article 16 was banded darkest of any. It was: “To see if the town will
- vote to oblige its treasurer to secure bonds acceptable to the selectmen.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The people discussed these articles freely, but only as evidence that
- Hiram Look was still busy at the working out of the old grudge against the
- Willard family. No hint that irregularities existed in Judge Willard’s
- accounts had been breathed.
- </p>
- <p>
- First of all, he had borrowed shrewdly from such men as Sumner Badger, who
- clung to their little money secrets desperately, secure in their faith in
- a Willard.
- </p>
- <p>
- Squire Phin Look was silent with the silence of a man who walks beneath an
- avalanche poised for its plunge, and realises all the danger.
- </p>
- <p>
- The tempestuous Hiram, with teeth set close and growling under his breath
- since his return from New York, was silent from motives ingrained in his
- showman’s temperament. The fall of Palermo’s tower of financial strength
- was a sensation that he was planning with as full an eye to the dramatic
- as he would have planned a slide for life from the peak of the round-top.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Blast him,” he muttered to Simon over and over in the moments when he
- “had to talk to some one or bust,” as he expressed it, “he has always put
- the twisters on our fam’ly before the face and eyes of the people. It’s
- there I’ll take him, then! I wouldn’t even joggle him now. I want him just
- as high on the pedestal as he can be. Not a whisper, or I’ll murder you. I
- want him high, I tell ye! And with these two hands I’ll push him off
- whilst they are all lookin’ at him. And he’ll fall a thousand miles a
- minute and he’ll light in a cloud of splinters that will make the sky
- dark. And then I’ll jump on him and crow three times and a tiger, whilst
- the band plays ‘Yankee Doodle Dandy.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- During these harangues Peak wriggled his toes in his carpet slippers and
- blinked appreciatively, but without venturing a word.
- </p>
- <p>
- “God!” blurted Hiram, spanking his hands upon his knees, “I’m givin’ him a
- taste of the ling’rin’ agony he gave my poor old father till he run him
- under ground. I’ve let him know just enough, Sime, to realise that I’ve
- got the hooks fast into him. Now let him squirm! There ain’t nothin’ that
- ties human natur’ into knots like bein’ sentenced and knowin’ the day set
- for the hangin’. Old Coll Willard knows it’s for town-meetin’ day, and
- that I’ve got the rope soaped for him. Let him squirm! He’s a-writin’ two
- letters a day to that drunk in New York and firin’ along three telegrams
- daily, sweatin’ blood all the time. Let him squirm! I wonder now if he
- can’t see in his dreams poor old Seth Look beggin’ for a little leeway on
- the notes the old pirate had bought up against our fam’ly. He’s been down
- on his knees to Phin already.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram rubbed his rough palms with satisfaction.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ain’t your brother li’ble to daub in, seein’ that him and you ain’t
- gittin’ along the best ever was jest now?” inquired Peak.
- </p>
- <p>
- “My brother is a fool in some directions, as I’m free to say both to him
- and to inquirin’ friends,” reported Hiram. “But he’s a fool only about so
- fur and then he stops. Don’t you set up nights worryin’ about that, Sime.
- Phin has got a blister or two from the Willard fam’ly lately and the
- swellin’ ain’t gone down yet.”
- </p>
- <p>
- After freeing his mind on such occasions as this, Hiram lighted another of
- his long cigars, hunched down in his chair, and perused figures in a
- dog’s-eared notebook with intense satisfaction.
- </p>
- <p>
- On the afternoon of the day before town meeting something that Squire Phin
- had been vaguely dreading happened to him.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was walking slowly home, avoiding the sidewalk pools that the chill of
- late afternoon had crusted. His head was bowed, either in thought or to
- watch his steps, and he did not see Sylvena Willard standing at the gate
- until she spoke to him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Phineas, I would not have troubled you, but the matter is of the utmost
- importance. I do not feel like discussing it by the roadside. Won’t you
- step to the house?”
- </p>
- <p>
- He glanced at her with a sort of timidity in his demeanour. Her face, half
- shielded by the shawl caught lightly around her head, was very grave. It
- seemed to him that her temple locks had more gray in them than when he saw
- her last.
- </p>
- <p>
- He hesitated only for a moment, then opened the iron gate and accompanied
- her up the broad path to the porch. Neither spoke on the way.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the big, gloomy parlour, in the corners of which old-fashioned chairs
- of dark wood seemed to lurk like uncouth animals in the afternoon shadows,
- he sat gazing at her, still without speaking.
- </p>
- <p>
- Her hands picked restlessly at the fringes of the shawl that she had
- dropped across her lap.
- </p>
- <p>
- Beyond the closed double doors that shut off the adjoining room there
- sounded music faintly. It was the tinkly melody of an automatic music box,
- but the Squire, having no very keen ear for tunes, did not recognise what
- this one was playing, only vaguely realising that it was something he had
- heard before, probably at a vestry meeting. It seemed to have a hymn
- flavour.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t know enough about business to talk this matter over with you as
- it should be discussed, Phin-eas,” she said at last. “I only know that
- some dreadful trouble is killing my poor father. And I also know that your
- brother is at the bottom of it. I have found out that he wants to have
- father dismissed from office to-morrow. Father is old and childish,
- Phineas. In the last few months he has grown much more so. He is breaking
- down. I can see it, for I have a loving daughter’s eyes. I wish he did not
- care for the office. It is only a little one, I know. But the Willards
- have been treasurers of the town for many years, and he seems to have set
- his heart on holding it. It is a small favour for an old man to ask,
- Phineas, and you know that there is no honour that father thinks as much
- of as he does an honour from his own people.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She looked at him wistfully. Yet he missed the old-time frank and candid
- friendship in her eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now it came to him suddenly that the tune on the music box in the other
- room was, “Where is My Wandering Boy To-night?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is King’s mother,” she said, noting his look at the closed door. “She
- is very lonely nowadays and spends her afternoons with me. She seems to
- enjoy listening to the little music box that the Sunday-school gave to me.
- I hope it doesn’t disturb you. We have grown used to it here in the house.
- As to the office that father——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I am only one of the voters in this town,” he said brusquely. The kindly
- sympathy had suddenly gone out of his face. A curious feeling of hostility
- entered his heart. The sudden angry thought came to him in these
- surroundings, and with that element on the other side of the door, “I’m
- only Seth Look’s boy, to be pitied, then used, then pitied some more and
- tossed aside.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “There is no one who exerts as much influence as you,” she persisted. “But
- I don’t appeal to you to secure for my father an office to which he is
- entitled by all fair play.” Her tone was proud now. “I only ask you to
- restrain that wretched brother of yours, who apparently has come back to
- this town simply and solely to make trouble. He is meddling in affairs
- that do not concern him; he is stirring up strife and factions in our
- town, and for the credit of Palermo and your family it is your duty to put
- him where he belongs.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The subdued clicking of a spring ratchet had sounded in the other room,
- and now the music box started in again on “Where is My Wandering Boy
- To-night?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where he belongs, eh?” he said in a voice that he tried to make calm.
- “And where would that be?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, somewhere so far away that we’d never again hear the bellow of that
- elephant and the discord of that brass band,” she replied smartly, for the
- suppressed sneer in his tone touched her.
- </p>
- <p>
- “So it’s my wild beast brother who is responsible for all the troubles of
- your father, and you want me to cage him and ship him out of town?”
- </p>
- <p>
- He scowled at the door that shut off the music box and its persistent
- operator.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Night after night my poor old father sits there in his office alone,
- white and sick and weak and——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ve seen a poor old father sit up nights, too,” he broke in, “and he was
- sitting up fighting off mortgages and executions and bills of sale let
- loose on him by <i>your</i> father before he tucked himself away on his
- bed of down. Don’t let us get to comparing fathers, Sylvena! It will not
- be profitable.”
- </p>
- <p>
- His tone was harsh and his eyes flashed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But it’s <i>my</i> father,” she cried, “and I’ll fight for him. It’s well
- to know who all our enemies are. I was shocked and disappointed, Phineas,
- when you——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not one word about that affair—not a word from you!” he commanded.
- “You can tell me nothing that I don’t know and understand.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She paused stammeringly, frightened by his heat. After a moment she rose
- and pushed back her chair.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I am to class you with your brother,” she began, but he checked her
- again by a furious exclamation. He stood up and threw upon his chair the
- soft hat that he had been crumpling between his broad palms. The music box
- kept on its monotonous tune.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s enough about my brother—enough!” he cried. “You are bound to
- have it that he is the man who has made your father sleepless and old, and
- childish and haggard. You are facing Hime Look—the Look family, as
- though it were your only enemy, when the wolf is behind you, Sylvena,
- behind you!”
- </p>
- <p>
- His voice was so intense that she cast a look over her shoulder
- instinctively.
- </p>
- <p>
- He came close to her, took her by both arms and held her so.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You listen to me,” he said, with tone of the master. “I don’t know very
- well how to make love. I never have known. I even was fool enough and
- quixotic enough to think I’d let another man have you if that would make
- you happy. But I know now that I wouldn’t. I know that you are mine. I’m
- going to be so much of a braggart now—so conceited that you won’t
- recognise me! I’m going to say to you that you have never loved any one
- else but me, and you never will love any one else. But life has been too
- easy for you, Sylvena, and your heart has never been stirred and awakened
- like the hearts of some of us poor devils. You have followed your one duty
- as you saw it. Others have filched from me, who deserved it most, this bit
- of love, that bit of loyalty. Now I, Phineas Look, stand forth here and
- demand my own. Understand me! I demand it. You are mine, Sylvie Willard,
- because I love you better than myself. You are mine because you love me.
- You are mine because you need my arm about you in the bitterest hour of
- your life. That hour is now upon you. I’m going to strike the blow,
- Sylvie, because it will make you mine.”
- </p>
- <p>
- His voice trembled in sympathy for her. But he went on:
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is not my brother who is keeping your father awake. It is King
- Bradish, the rascal, the sneak, the drunken villain who has plunged him
- into ruin. It has been weeks—yes, months—since you or your
- father, or even his own mother, have received a word from him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He checked the expostulation that was on her lips. Her eyes were wide and
- fixed on his. Her face worked pitifully.
- </p>
- <p>
- “His mother has lied for him. You have lied for him, Sylvie, because your
- father asked it of you. I know all about it. There are times when a
- woman’s lie for a man is holy, but not in this case. I say to you that
- King Bradish is a profligate drunkard, a thief—a worse than thief,
- for he has dragged your father into dishonesty as well as ruin. There!
- There’s the bitter blow. Bear it, Sylvie, bear it, for it will make a
- truer, nobler woman of you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Her knees trembled so that he put his arm about her. The music box started
- in once more on the same tune.
- </p>
- <p>
- With a growl under his breath he placed the half fainting woman on her
- chair, strode into the hall and entered the other room by a side door. He
- seized the music box from the lap of the astonished and frightened
- operator, slammed up a window and threw it as far as he could. Its
- plaintive query ceased in a crash.
- </p>
- <p>
- He found Sylvena on her knees beside the chair, clutching the rungs and
- staring into vacancy. He knelt beside her and took her white face into his
- strong hands.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Little girl,” he said, “forgive all of my brutal ways. Forgive what I
- just did. But perhaps it was that infernal tune that made me so cruel with
- you and so blunt. I love you! I love you! I can’t say that with all the
- pretty words that some men use, for I haven’t had practice, Sylvie. Please
- put that much to my credit. But I love you. I cannot <i>say</i> any more—-but
- I can <i>do!</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- His voice was firm and full of rugged encouragement.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have told you the bitter truth about your father. Honesty is best
- between folks who are going to be married.” He spoke this with a tone of
- conviction that brought her astonished gaze up to meet his. “You had to
- know it. I have told you. You are a brave woman, and you can bear it. You
- can bear it because from this moment I put my body, my strength, my
- brains, my love, my eternal devotion between you and all those who would
- be your enemies. Your battles are now my battles. My ways must henceforth
- be your ways. I have told your father that I would help. Go and talk with
- him, poor girl. The truth is bitter, but it’s time now to be honest. Don’t
- say anything to me now. I have said enough for both. And I am going away
- to do my best for you and yours, knowing that a good and true woman will
- be ready some day to tell me that she loves me best of all the world.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He still held her face between his hands, and bent and kissed her on her
- forehead and then on her lips. She attempted to say something, but he
- gently kissed her once more to check her speech, then rose, took his hat
- from the chair and went out of the house.
- </p>
- <p>
- The old dog was waiting for him on the porch, and gave him an amiable
- glance from appreciative eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It isn’t the sort of wooing that’s laid down in the books, Eli,” muttered
- the Squire; “but I reckon that when you’ve made up your mind that a thing
- really belongs to you the best thing to do is to go right ahead and
- replevin.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XX—PALERMO’S “MARCH MEETIN’”
- </h2>
- <h3>
- HOW IT WAS PLANNED TO BE RUN, AND HOW IT WAS RUN
- </h3>
- <p class="indent20">
- When a hen is bound to set
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Seems as if ’tain’t etiket
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Dousin’ her in water till
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- She’s connected with a chill.
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Seems as though ’twas skursely right
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Givin’ her a dreadful fright,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Tyin’ rags around her tail,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Poundin’ on an old tin pail,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Chasin’ her around the yard—
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Seems as though ’twas kind of hard
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Bein’ kicked and ammed and shooed
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- ‘Cause she wants to raise a brood.
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- —Meditations by Bill Benson’s Boy.
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">P</span>alermo’s town
- house is like a roofed dry goods box, its clapboards unpainted and
- weather-beaten. It is perched on the gray ledges of Cross Hill in the
- centre of the town in order to accommodate the three villages, and here in
- lonely state, with no other building nearer than half a mile, it faces a
- buffet from every gale and a drenching from every storm. It is opened once
- each year—for the annual town meeting in March.
- </p>
- <p>
- Solomon Norton, who combined in his person the duties of Palermo’s hearse
- driver, sexton and custodian of public buildings, struggled with the rusty
- padlock on the outer door of the town house, and then stamped in and
- sniffed at the musty atmosphere. The March sun was just rising, and
- Solomon Norton was in good season.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Canned terbacker smoke and left-over speeches,” he growled. “I donno
- which smells wust.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He forced up the warped windows and began to sweep with a stout broom. The
- floor was thickly sprinkled with stale sawdust, in which were flotsam of
- charred matches, cigar stubs and pipe dottles. The crumpled ballots of
- last year’s election lay scattered everywhere. In a few moments the March
- breezes were playing with the dust clouds that rolled from open doors and
- windows.
- </p>
- <p>
- The early vanguard of Palermo’s voters was even then on hand—a few
- men grouped around horses of uncertain age, whose points and pedigrees
- they were discussing with animation. The first “shift” of the day had
- already been made, and a tall man with ginger-coloured whiskers was
- unbuckling the harness from a stump-tailed bay horse. The man who had
- traded with him was as briskly taking the harness from a rangy gray mare.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now honest, Lem,” whined the tall man over his shoulder, “what’s the
- ‘out’ with her? ’Tain’t fair if you don’t tell me, if it’s anything
- dang’rous.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The other man chuckled, and the tall man repeated his plaintive appeal.
- But it was only after the transfer of harness had been completed that the
- ex-owner of the gray mare replied:
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s understood there ain’t goin’ to be no backin’ outs?” he inquired,
- after he had again poked a swelling on the stump-tailed horse’s leg and
- noted with satisfaction that the animal did not wince. “I gen’-rally
- believe in lettin’ t’other feller find the ‘outs’ for hisself.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I ain’t goin’ to cry-baby unless she’s a biter—and swappin’ biters
- ain’t no fair,” protested the tall man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No danger of her bitin’ anything harder’n porridge with them teeth,” said
- the man called Lem, with great good humour. “I’d jest’s soon tell ye.
- She’s high pressur’.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Wind’s broke, hey?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “’Ep!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bad?” The tall man eyed the gray mare with interest.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Wa-a-al,” drawled the other, buckling the ends of his reins and preparing
- to climb into his waggon, “she ain’t blowed out ary cylinder head yit, but
- she sartinly does whistle loud enough so’t your wife can git supper ready
- on to the table after she begins to hear ye comin’.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The bystanders laughed, and Lem climbed into his waggon in still greater
- good humour. He turned a beaming face on the new owner of the gray mare.
- </p>
- <p>
- The aforesaid owner of the gray mare was not a whit disconcerted. He
- pulled a bit of strap iron from his pocket and pinched it over the mare’s
- nostrils.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There’s some ‘outs’ that’s wusser’n whistlin’,” he said mysteriously as
- he adjusted the strap iron. “You might as well git your laugh in now, Lem.
- There’s nothin’ like gittin’ in a laugh at one end or t’other of a trade.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Most of Lem’s gayety left him, and he looked at the stump-tailed horse
- with some anxiety.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now look-a-here, Ben,” said he, “I don’t want no circus animile tucked
- off onto me to-day, for I’ve took a contract from Hime Look to haul some
- of the old lamed-up codgers to town meetin’.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You didn’t say nothin’ to me about your contracts,” replied the tall man,
- clawing a freckled hand through his beard. “All I got to say is, lamed-up
- old codgers better crawl here on their hands and knees instead of ride
- with you. Now, you know there ain’t goin’ to be no backin’ outs on this
- trade,” he expostulated as he saw a dubious look come on Lem’s face.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Who said there was goin’ to be?” retorted the other. He started to lay
- the reins down across the dasher with the evident intent of getting out to
- investigate his purchase a little closer, when the horse, who had been
- peering around at him from the corner of a bloodshot eye, performed a
- sudden and surprising action. He whirled his stump of a tail as though it
- worked on a pivot, clutched the reins under it, and started with a jump
- that lifted both fore wheels of the waggon off the ground.
- </p>
- <p>
- The man tugged desperately at the reins, his feet against the dasher, but
- the “webbin’s” remained fixed under the tail, and the horse kept on down
- the muddy road with speed undiminished. When the outfit went out of sight
- around a turn the man was down on his knees tugging at the stump and
- shouting “Whoa!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I reckon,” said the possessor of the gray mare, twirling a strand of his
- ginger-coloured beard into a spill and reflectively tickling his nose,
- “that Lem has got holt of a pa’snip there that he won’t pull up in no
- great hurry. That’s a hoss,” he continued, turning to the bystanders, who
- had watched the runaway with astonished silence, “that I got plastered on
- to me about three weeks ago and then found out that I’d got holt of that
- Iron Tail Ike, as they call him. He’s give more folks a h’ist than any
- other hoss in this county.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What will happen to Lem?” inquired one of the men.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It all depends on how high he flies and what he strikes on when he comes
- down,” calmly answered the tall man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hoss swappin’ is hoss swappin’, of course,” said another in the group;
- “but this sellin’ folks blastin’ powder with red hair on it ain’t very
- neighbourly, as I look at it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Any man that grins at me ’cause he thinks he’s got me stuck and
- sells himself out to haul voters for that Hiram Look can nat’rally expect
- to have somethin’ comin’ to him and can’t blame nobody if it comes,”
- replied the callous tall man. “I’m goin’ to haul men that will vote for
- law and order in this town and for them that’s allus led us as citerzens
- ought to be led—and that’s with pride and dignity. This slambangin’
- style and tryin’ to throw down good men ain’t my notion, and I’m goin’ out
- to hunt up folks that think my way.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He hopped over the wheel, tucked his long legs under the waggon seat, and
- drove away, the gray mare wheezing past the restraining strap iron.
- </p>
- <p>
- A man who had been standing in the lee of the town house trying to light
- his pipe came away coughing and strangling.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A chap that runs a threshing machine, like I do, can stand a fair amount
- of dust,” he said, wiping the tears from his eyes; “but I got a couple of
- whiffs from the tail-end of ‘Wolf’ Doughty’s last year’s speech as it come
- out o’ that winder there, and I’ll be blamed if it didn’t almost put me
- out of bus’ness.” The men in the little crowd grinned at him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’m hearin’ that it will be a hotter one that ‘Wolf’ makes this year,”
- said one of the men. “He’s got most of the Dunham deestrick crowd lined up
- ag’inst Squire Phin’s clique this year.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hime let him have four hundred on a second mo’gidge,” said another. “You
- hold a silver dollar in front of ‘Wolf’ and he can’t see over nor around
- it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, it goes furder back this time,” returned the first speaker. “The
- Dunham deestrickers ain’t ever forgive the Squire for yankin’ the Haskell
- girl away from ’em just when they was gittin’ ready to make a meal
- off her. It’s lucky the women-folks out that way can’t vote. I reckon
- they’d swing town meetin’ ag’inst him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s li’ble to be swung, as ’tis,” rejoined another man. “I tell
- ye Hime Look is cuttin’ a bigger swath in this town nowadays than most
- folks realise. It’s money that talks, and he’s been puttin’ out a lot of
- it one way and another.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s a fact, ain’t it, that him and the Squire don’t hitch at all?”
- queried a bystander as he crooked his leg to light a match.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Wa-a-al,” drawled another voter humorously, “Hime ain’t tried to black
- the Squire’s eye yit, the same as he has most others in town, but I
- shouldn’t be a dummed bit surprised if it come to that unless they stop
- brustlin’ up at each other.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hime wants to look out for his buttons,” observed the man who had lighted
- his pipe. “’Cordin’ to stories that have passed ’round town
- since King Bradish went away the shoulder hitters ain’t confined to one
- branch of the Look fam’ly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Solomon Norton came out and got a huge basket of clean sawdust from the
- tail of his waggon.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Put on plenty this year, Sol,” called one of the men. “It’ll be needed to
- sop up the blood.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The soil of the town-house yard, soggy from the March rains, began to thaw
- as the sun grew higher and warmer. In increasing numbers waggons gullied
- and rutted it. Mud dripped from the wheels and was splattered on the backs
- of the voters. Men arrived in pairs or in fours, in narrow buggies or in
- double-seated waggons, whose bodies bumped upon the axles as the wheels
- slumped into the highway honey-pots. The seiners from the Cove road, whose
- horses were their dories, clubbed together and came in hay-racks. To the
- front rail of one of these a joker had fastened a sprit-sail, and the lead
- horse had a pennant floating from a little staff set into his bridle.
- </p>
- <p>
- Before nine o’clock the yard was well filled with men, most of them
- assembled in knots that constantly changed personnel as voters trudged
- through the sticky ooze from one to the other, shouting jovial greetings
- or mumbling certain confidences in undertone. The town clerk, the
- selectmen and a constable or two had gone into the town house, trailing
- mud upon Solomon Norton’s fresh sawdust; but the main body of the voters
- remained outside. The assemblage wore a general air of expectancy.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the citizens of Palermo were certainly not expecting one spectacle
- that day.
- </p>
- <p>
- When the Willard family carriage scraped its muddy wheels against the
- platform in front of the town house Squire Phineas Look was the first to
- lift the flap and step out. He gave his hand to Judge Collamore Willard,
- whose thin leg trembled as he put out his foot to grope for the platform.
- </p>
- <p>
- The space before the door was thronged with men, and the Squire, who held
- the old town treasurer’s arm, waited for them to open a passage.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a certain grave dignity on the Squire’s face that morning that
- the men of Palermo had not been accustomed to see there before. Their old,
- free-and-easy greeting seemed out of place now. It was not because they
- were astonished at beholding him in company with Judge Willard. Nor was it
- the presence of the Judge that restrained them. Somehow, Phin Look was
- different, and they instinctively realised it. His isolation during the
- past few months while he had been engrossed in his work, the knowledge
- that the outside world had begun to give him honour and money, accounted
- for a part of the respect that Squire Phin suddenly detected in the eyes
- of his townsmen, but there was something in his bearing more potent still—the
- intangible aura of the man who had suddenly come to full knowledge of
- himself and his abilities.
- </p>
- <p>
- That intangible something had been in his face, in the poise of his body,
- in the straightening of his shoulders and the lift of his chin ever since
- he had walked out of the parlour of the Willard house. It is not
- surprising that the assembled voters of Palermo did not understand it,
- because Squire Phin did not wholly understand it himself. He passed among
- them with quiet greetings that made those upon whom they fell grow warm
- with pleasure and pride. Selfaggrandisement can bestow no such favours.
- The people of Palermo, unconsciously almost, had suddenly elevated their
- best citizen to the height his merit but not his modesty claimed. And
- through that subtle attribute that attaches to such elevations they were
- correspondingly proud of him.
- </p>
- <p>
- The voters closed in behind the two and followed them into the town house,
- mumbling surmises to account for this astonishing situation.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Politics makes strange bedfellers, so they say,” observed Deacon Burgess,
- squinting at the Squire and the feeble old man whom he was leading, “but
- if them two there don’t have nightmares and git to kickin’ each other it
- will be somethin’ to be talked about in words that ain’t laid down in the
- dictionary.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But the surge into the town house was promptly succeeded by a rush for
- outdoors. The bellow of band music summoned them.
- </p>
- <p>
- Fully appreciating what the dramatic stood for, Hiram Look had timed his
- arrival carefully. He wanted all the voters to witness it. His eight
- horses drew the band chariot, whose gilt and glass were resplendent, even
- through the mud-streakings. The showman drove, perched upon the high seat,
- his new silk hat flashing in the March sun. But the hat was dwarfed on
- that occasion.
- </p>
- <p>
- Simon Peak sat beside him, and for the first time since Palermo had known
- him Simon Peak was really erect. It was his initial appearance as
- drum-major of the “Look Cornet Brass Band.” His trousers were white, his
- coat was crimson, with huge yellow shoulder knots, and an absolutely
- gigantic bearskin shako towered from his head. When the big waggon swung
- into the town-house yard the voters got a peep at the new uniforms of the
- bandmen and, inspired by the gorgeous spectacle and by the lively music,
- broke into a cheer.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram’s grim features relaxed. He wheeled his horses skilfully and brought
- the big cart to a standstill opposite the crowded platform, twisted the
- reins about the brake bar, arose and removed his hat.
- </p>
- <p>
- The ruling passion of the mob is the same in Palermo as it is in the
- metropolis.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Speech!” yelled the crowd enthusiastically above the blare of the
- instruments.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It ain’t no time, gents, for speeches now and here,” said Hiram Look in
- the first silence. “I only want to present to you, the voters of the town
- of Palermo, your new brass band, with the tallest drum-major in New
- England, if not in the whole world. It’s a band that no one can be ashamed
- of. It has taken enterprise and hard work to <i>get</i> it to goin’. It
- needs a boost from the voters of this town to <i>keep</i> it goin’. A word
- to the wise is sufficient. This ain’t no time for speeches, as I’ve just
- said, but I want to ask you, one and all, to show me and this band here
- to-day that you appreciate it when a man comes into the place and lets out
- a few reefs and tries to get the grand old town of Palermo sailin’ on a
- new tack.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was the younger men who cheered now, as they had cheered before. The
- older voters, from natural gravity and other reasons of a personal nature,
- were silent. Many of them went back into the town house grumbling about
- “hitchin’ circus fol-de-rols on to a bus’ness town meetin’.”
- </p>
- <p>
- This faction, which was a very considerable one, glared when the band
- marched in behind its Gargantuan major and set the windows to rattling
- with one of its liveliest airs. In the close, low-ceiled room the uproar
- of the instruments and the clamour of the drums made hideous din of the
- music.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ll be deefer’n a haddock if this keeps up,” growled Uncle Lysimachus
- Buck to Marriner Amazeen. “There don’t seem to be no law and order to
- nothin’ in this town nowadays. It strikes me it’s about time for P’lermo
- to set down on Hime Look, and set down so hard that he won’t get the
- creases out of him for awhile.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The town clerk, a thin, hump-shouldered little man, stood beside a rickety
- table on the platform, his huge cane poised ready to pound for order, and
- waiting with manifest impatience for the band to finish. He began to whack
- the table the moment the echoes of the music died away, and while the
- voters were shuffling to their places on the settees read the warrant for
- the meeting in a shrill voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram Look had planned to win the first move that day and elect a
- moderator from his own faction. The keynote of his canvass had been “Give
- some one else a show!” His whole campaign had been an attempt to stir
- factional feeling in town.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s a mighty dead-and-alive place that let’s one clique run it year
- after year and lead you all by the nose,” he had stormily argued. “You
- might’s well have an emp’ror for life and be done with it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He had promptly won the element that is always jealous of those in
- authority, almost as promptly enrolled the unstable element that is ready
- to follow new gods when a band leads the procession, and after a little
- effort had succeeded in convincing many voters, who had never stopped to
- think of the matter before, that they were being cheated of their rights
- of representation in town affairs. He had talked to them until they were
- bitter with his own bitterness. But he did not let drop one word of the
- sensation that he planned to precipitate.
- </p>
- <p>
- The moment the clerk stopped reading “Wolf” Doughty was on his feet with a
- fiery harangue that wound up in denunciation of the men who had bossed the
- town so long. He declared that it was time for a new deal, and nominated
- Deacon Burgess as moderator. The band attempted to play when he finished,
- but the little clerk rapped it into silence, though he split his table in
- doing so. The name of Deacon Burgess was uproariously seconded by Hiram’s
- claque.
- </p>
- <p>
- But Squire Phin had been prepared for just such an outbreak. He arose and
- said that he would assume that Mr. Doughty’s remarks had reference to him,
- who had served the town as moderator for so many years. He reminded the
- voters that he had acted in the capacity because he had annually been
- requested to preside by the unanimous voice of the voters. He had always
- felt that others should share in this honour, he said, and this year he
- should do what he had before intended to do—refuse the use of his
- name.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was so much of gentle rebuke in his tone, and in his air such quiet
- dignity, that Doughty’s flaming speech became a piece of insolence that
- the voters were manifestly anxious to repudiate.
- </p>
- <p>
- At this psychological moment, foreseen by the Squire’s sagacity, one of
- his lieutenants nominated the teacher of the high school at the upper
- village, and the natural, sudden impulse of the meeting did the rest.
- </p>
- <p>
- Deacon Burgess was snowed under.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram Look, in the midst of his adherents, fully understood all the guile
- under this apparently innocent manoeuvre, and twisted his trailing
- moustache and glared at his brother with malice.
- </p>
- <p>
- In a similar manner the rest of Hiram’s slate was broken. He had trained
- his speakers to go against the opposition with all the force of their
- lungs and their invective. But the opposition didn’t appear to be there.
- It was like fighting the summer breeze with a park of artillery. The old
- office-holders were no longer candidates. New ones appeared, introduced in
- calm, earnest speeches—men against whom no word could be said. Under
- such circumstances the assaults by Hiram’s cabal began to sound like
- bombastic nonsense, and there was too much Yankee hard-headedness in that
- town meeting to listen patiently.
- </p>
- <p>
- Violent sentiments were greeted with laughter, and the men who persisted
- in attacking the old régime were hooted down.
- </p>
- <p>
- While the tellers were counting votes for the third selectman Hiram
- signalled his band to play up. But the moderator ordered silence and sent
- two constables to enforce his commands.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram, endeavouring to shout remonstrance, was threatened with expulsion
- from the hall. He had lost his grip on the situation.
- </p>
- <p>
- His supporters had not deserted him, by any means, but they were too
- confused to act in concert. The new men were better men than their own
- candidates. They were nominated with a certain spontaneity that disarmed
- the opposition. Each time the polling was in progress Hiram stood on a
- settee waving handfuls of ballots and shouting the name of his candidate.
- But many voters who accepted slips from him secretly dropped them upon the
- sawdust floor at a word whispered to them as they filed along toward the
- ballot box.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was not until the meeting reached the election of a town treasurer that
- the opposition saw its real opportunity.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire, who had made no nominating speech up to this time, secured
- recognition from the moderator before Hiram’s lieutenant could struggle to
- his feet, even though the showman had reached over two settees and thrust
- a broad hand against his back.
- </p>
- <p>
- The lawyer walked to the little space before the platform and stood there,
- his hands behind him, his expression amiable, yet with something of that
- new determination in it that Palermo had just begun to note.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The hankering for new brooms is a natural and proper one,
- fellow-townsmen,” he said, “and I am glad that Palermo has shown so much
- good sense here to-day. We have chosen an admirable board of town officers
- up to this time, and I am sure that those still to be elected will be just
- as good and true men. You are now to choose a treasurer for the town. We
- have plenty of good material for other officers, but I want to say to you
- earnestly I am convinced that we have only one man in Palermo who by
- training and ability is suited to be our treasurer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It is an office that requires tact and good judgment, even though the
- sums that pass through the hands of our treasurer are not large. These
- qualifications are possessed in abundant measure by the present incumbent
- of the office. But there is a personal reason why we should reelect Judge
- Willard, and in a little town like ours—a neighbourhood, you may
- call it, almost—a personal reason of this nature should sway us.
- Judge Willard’s father and grandfather before him were town treasurers.
- The office has become associated with the family name. It will be recalled
- by you that no Willard has ever charged the town one cent for his
- services. It is one of those peculiar cases where the rule of rotation in
- office is overweighed by sentiment. I’ll confess to having sentiment
- myself about this matter. I’d as soon be a party to cutting down our big
- elm where Lafayette sat in the shade while his dinner was being cooked at
- the old tavern.”
- </p>
- <p>
- His face grew grave.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I hardly think I need to state to the voters here to-day that the very
- fact of my standing forth to make this plea for Judge Willard indicates
- how necessary I think it is to put aside my personal feelings for the sake
- of the town.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The expression on the faces of the listeners showed that they fully
- understood his allusion. It required no very close observation to see that
- Phineas Look, appealing for his old enemy, had won the majority of his
- townsmen to his side.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I had heard that certain persons were planning to make a cowardly attack
- on him here to-day, and I did not propose to have my attitude toward him
- misunderstood, townsmen.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire shouted this.
- </p>
- <p>
- “In Judge Willard’s presence I apologise for my frankness, but I say to
- you that he is an old man, to whom certain small things—small
- honours, if you care to say it—have much significance. I don’t
- believe the voters of this town will venture to wound an old man by any
- lack of generosity here to-day. I don’t believe they will listen to
- attacks made on him to satisfy selfish spite. I ask you, therefore, to
- treat this aged citizen with the consideration that is due to him. I ask
- you to nominate him by acclamation.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He put both of his hands out to them, palms up, and smiled upon them with
- appeal in his eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s the way I feel about the town treasurer-ship, neighbours, and if
- the most of you don’t feel that way, too, I shall be disappointed. Will
- you not make it by acclamation?”
- </p>
- <p>
- So accustomed were his townsmen to see the Squire at the head of their
- meetings that there was a chorus of “Ayes!” A half dozen men popped up and
- seconded his proposal. Squire Phin did not attempt to speak above this
- clamour, but smilingly motioned toward the moderator and took his seat
- beside Judge Willard.
- </p>
- <p>
- The aged treasurer, during the time that the lawyer was speaking, sat
- twisting his thin hands under his shawl. His head swayed from side to side
- with a tremulousness that no one had observed in him before. His eyes were
- fixed appealingly on the face of his sponsor.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You set down!” roared a voice. The voters turned and beheld Hiram shaking
- his fist at the man who was striving to present the name of the opposition
- candidate. “Set down, I tell ye! I’ll ’tend to the rest of this
- thing myself and do it right.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Question! Question!” shouted many voices.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the showman was not to be choked off. He leaped upon a settee and
- roared, vibrating his fists above his head, until by dint of bellowing he
- had driven the others into silence.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’m a voter in this town, and I don’t propose to have bus’ness rammed
- through without discussion. I know how some of you feel toward me. You
- think that ev’rything I try to do I’m doin’ just to make trouble. You give
- me the big end to h’ist ev’ry time. But I’m good for it!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He brandished his long arms above their heads.
- </p>
- <p>
- Again the voices broke out into cries of “Question! We want to vote!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Vote! Vote!” he screamed, unable to control his passion. He had intended
- to lead up to his sensation more skilfully. In his rage he now fired it at
- them like a bombshell.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Vote for what? For a thief to be your town treasurer? For a man that has
- stolen forty thousand dollars from this town? That’s what you’re votin’
- for. I can prove what I say. Now do you want to vote?”
- </p>
- <p>
- He leaned far over, propping himself on the shoulders of the man in front
- of him, and gave them look for look. His sound eye blazed.
- </p>
- <p>
- He thrust out his arm and shook his long finger at the cowering Judge.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ask him how many town notes are out with his name on ’em!” he
- yelled. “Ask him—your honest old town treasurer, who has skun you as
- he would skin a woodchuck, who has cheated, has stolen———”
- </p>
- <p>
- But now fifty men were on their feet howling threats and epithets at him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What shall I do?” screamed the moderator, leaning from the platform and
- appealing to the Squire.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Tell the band to play! Pass the word. Tell the band to play,” the lawyer
- replied. And the band, not understanding in that din of voices from whom
- the order had emanated, struck into one of its most clamorous selections,
- and kept on doggedly despite the hoarse objurgations of Hiram. He finally
- stood up and wiped his dripping face and let them go on. But he swore
- under his breath with the vigour of a captain whose own guns had been
- trained on him.
- </p>
- <p>
- While he stood there, high on the settee, waiting for the band to play
- through to the end, Hiram singled out several men in the crowd with his
- eye, and promptly on the heels of the last blare he shouted:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sumner Badger—you, there, Sum Badger! You, Ezra Mayo! You, Nelson
- Clark! You are hidin’ town notes with Collamore Willard’s name on ’em.
- You can’t stand up here in town meetin’ and say that you aren’t. This town
- thinks it only owes two thousand. Ask those men, you voters! They’ve let
- Collamore Willard have fifteen thousand between ’em. Ask ’em!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He waited, and the assemblage turned amazed and inquiring gaze on the men.
- </p>
- <p>
- Badger stood up first.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’m free to say, and I’ll swear it on a stack of Bibles, that there ain’t
- a cent owin’ me from this town.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You’re an old liar,” yelled Hiram.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ll bet you five thousand dollars, even money, and put it into the hands
- of any one you say?” Badger shrieked excitedly. “And there’s a taste of
- your own med’cine that you’ve been so willin’ to ladle out to the rest of
- us. Put up or shet up!”
- </p>
- <p>
- This sturdy retort caught Hiram napping, and his open mouth and the
- confusion on his face showed it.
- </p>
- <p>
- The other men whom he had called upon leaped up and made similar overtures
- of wagers.
- </p>
- <p>
- The crowd began to laugh boisterously.
- </p>
- <p>
- For the first few moments the voters had wavered between shocked
- astonishment and anger. But the town understood so well the showman’s
- extravagances of speech and actions that on second thought this last
- performance seemed only another of his prodigious bluffs. Now to behold
- him badgered in the same fashion in which he had badgered Palermo, and
- backing away from the bets, was too much for their risibilities. The more
- they laughed the more utter became his confusion. The whole thing had
- turned out so differently from what he expected.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ll bet ye five thousand to two,” shrilled Badger, excited by his
- success and by the applause. “And I’ll stump ye to bet! I’ll stump ye!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The mirth broke out again, for Hiram pulled out his handkerchief and
- scrubbed it over his reddening face.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This has gone far enough, townsmen!” called the Squire. “It isn’t seemly
- to conduct town affairs in this manner.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He had mounted the platform, and his firm tones quieted them.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It isn’t seemly, either, for an irresponsible person to lose his head and
- make accusations that he cannot back up. It is a deplorable thing that has
- just happened here, townsmen.”
- </p>
- <p>
- They all became grave with his gravity.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No personal feelings of my own shall check me from saying that a man who
- stands up in a public place and perpetrates criminal libel deserves the
- severest punishment that the law has for such a crime. But under the
- circumstances I ask from you this one bit of forbearance: It is that you
- will forget what this person has said here and allow him to go, on
- condition that he will not repeat his offence, here or elsewhere. If he
- does—” the Squire’s face grew hard and stern—“I will prosecute
- him myself, brother though he be of mine.”
- </p>
- <p>
- For a moment there was utter silence, and then, with callused palms and
- thudding boots, the voters roared their applause.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram strode off the settee and into the centre aisle, and was about to
- speak, his face black with rage.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not another word, sir,” the Squire shouted. “Not one word, or I’ll
- withdraw my protection.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But Hiram whirled at the door on his way out, unable to repress the
- furious indignation that surged to his lips. He began to understand the
- manner in which he had been cheated out of his vengeance. His anger
- shifted from the voters, who had so blindly followed, to the man who had
- led them—and that man was his brother.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ll bet ye ten thousand dollars to one that I know who lifted the lid
- that let the old rat out of his trap,” he shouted. His eye flamed redly on
- Phineas. “It took ready money to do it. It was your money, Phin Look! Some
- of it was money that I earnt! Our old father turned in his grave this day.
- I stand here before the whole of you and tell you, Phin Look, that you are
- a——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Constables, put that man out of this meeting!” commanded the Squire in
- stentorian tones, and three brawny men who had followed Hiram down the
- aisle and appeared to be awaiting just such an order hustled the showman
- out of doors with much alacrity.
- </p>
- <p>
- Simon Peak marshalled the band behind him, and in a little while the big
- waggon went rumbling out of the yard.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the band did not play.
- </p>
- <p>
- Later in the day, when this business was reached, the articles in the
- warrant relating to the “Look Cornet Brass Band” and the investigation of
- the accounts of the town treasurer, as well as the article requiring
- bondsmen for the same, were killed by a hilarious viva voce vote.
- </p>
- <p>
- On their homeward way, after a long pause, Squire Look said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Judge Willard, you have been able to see some of the visible results to
- me for my share in helping you compound your felony. You are man enough to
- understand what it means to go through a public scene like that with a
- brother, who was right, even if he was misguided. I am ashamed to meet
- him; I am almost ashamed to look my townsmen in the eye.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But you agreed that it would have been worse the other way,” quavered the
- old man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There are people who talk of the right path,” broke out the lawyer
- impatiently, “as though it were like this village road branching from the
- four corners here; that all you need to do is to look at the guide-board
- and go on. I may have got tangled up at that four corners where you and I
- met the other day, Judge Willard, but I want to tell you that I see a
- mighty straight road ahead of me now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He clutched the old man’s arm and spoke low so that the driver on the
- other side of the leather flap might not hear.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You have got to liquidate, Judge. You have got to put every cent of
- property you have in the world into my hands in order that I may untangle
- it. You may be town treasurer in name, but not one dollar of the funds
- shall you handle. The widows and the orphans and the old folks in this
- town must be paid to the last farthing. You are going out of business—-do
- you understand? You will resign the town treasurership when I tell you to—and
- that will be when your books can be safely turned over to some one else.
- You need not worry about exposure, for the men who were paid and
- surrendered their town notes to me have their tongues tied fast and solid
- by methods that I understand how to work. Now for your own tongue! If you
- breathe one word to your daughter that I supplied the money to square this
- thing, or that you owe me a cent, I’ll drop you and your affairs as I’d
- drop a hot plate on to a brick sidewalk. And you know what will happen
- then!” A moment later the Squire checked the old man’s mingled promises
- and thanks with an impatient word and sank back into a corner of the
- carriage. His ponderings could not have been very satisfying, for he
- scowled and growled.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXI—WHY HIRAM LOOK WENT OUT OF THE CIRCUS BUSINESS
- </h2>
- <h3>
- FOR GOOD AND ALL
- </h3>
- <p class="indent10">
- Now study the ways of the world, my son; oh, study the ways of life!
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- It’s the hustling chap that gets the cash or the girl he wants for his
- wife;
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- It’s the fellow that spots the place to grab, as Chance goes swinging by,
- </p>
- <p class="indent10">
- Who gets his dab in the juiciest place and the biggest plum in the pie.
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- —Philosophy of S. Peak.
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t was almost the
- first of the warming days of April. Muddy little brooks ran beside the
- highway, robins bounced along the turf, the waves in the Cove sparkled in
- the mellow sunshine, and the silver poplars in the Look dooryard bristled
- with catkins as long as one’s finger. One of them dropped lightly upon the
- knee of the abstracted Hiram Look, sitting in his chair on the porch, and
- he jumped and cuffed it, thinking it was a green worm.
- </p>
- <p>
- “First spring I’ve seen them things for a good many years,” he growled,
- squinting up into the branches. “For that matter, it’s the first spring
- I’ve seen a good many things,” he added bitterly. He slouched down in his
- chair, his hat-brim low over his eyes, smoked his long cigar and watched
- the approach of Simon Peak, who was picking his way up the muddy road.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There’s thirty-seven of ’em to-day, Hime,” said Simon, tossing a
- packet of letters into the showman’s lap. “Some of ’em’s fat, and
- there ought to be con-sid’able good readin’ for us.” He licked his lips
- expectantly.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram joggled down the contents of an envelope and nipped off the edge
- with broad nails. He passed the contents over to Peak, who fixed his
- spectacles on his nose and promptly began to read aloud, his general air
- showing that this was a regular daily programme.
- </p>
- <h3>
- ****
- </h3>
- <p>
- “‘Look & Peak—Gents: Seeing your ad. respecting show you are
- going to start out with in near future, I would like side-show privilege
- for my wife, who is the celebrated Fat Emma, with beard two feet long. She——
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothing to it!” growled Hiram, breaking in with disgust. “Tear it up.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But there’s some kind of funny stuff about her here,” appealed Simon,
- running his eye down the page. “It makes good readin’.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Frame it, then, if you want to,” retorted the showman gruffly. “I don’t
- want to listen to no such sculch.” He was nipping at the edge of another
- envelope.
- </p>
- <p>
- Simon took advantage of the pause.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I see your brother steppin’ into Judge Willard’s office same as usual
- this noon,” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He can step into Tophet three times a day and fry steak if he wants to,”
- snapped Hiram ungraciously.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, you asked me to keep tabs on him when I see him go in there, and
- I’m doin’ it, ain’t I? I don’t see no need of yappin’ my head off when I’m
- tellin’ you what you wanted me to tell you.” Simon was plainly indignant.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You show altogether too much relish for stickin’ your nose into other
- folks’ bus’ness,” said Hiram, still in bad temper.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You’re gittin’ to be wusser’n a quill-pig to live with,” Simon flung
- back. “I don’t git more’n two decent words out of you from one day’s end
- to another. I ain’t no husk door-mat for you to wipe your feet on, even if
- I am poor and you’ve got your old forty thousand in the bank.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You go ahead with your readin’,” barked Hiram, slapping open a letter.
- “You want to get so that you can unpin that mouth o’ your’n without saying
- forty thousand dollars ev’ry time, or I may stick my fist down your gullet
- some day.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The giant read on sullenly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Messers. Look & Peak————-’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Gentlemen Sirs!’” thundered Hiram. “Ain’t I told you more’n five hundred
- times how to read that? We ain’t ‘<i>Messers</i>.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- Peak surveyed the tyrant with baleful gaze and started to read again.
- </p>
- <p>
- While they were absorbed in their quarrel a woman had come tip-toeing up
- the street past the muddy spots, and now she stood in front of the porch—a
- thin, wiry, alert woman. Her voice startled them. She tripped a few steps
- nearer and curtsied with extravagant politeness. Both arose and doffed
- their plug hats before they saw her face. She tossed her head to throw
- back a draggly plume that rested against her rouged cheek and stared at
- them.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You don’t hold your ages as well as I do, boys,” she commented
- flippantly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s the old army game, gents,” squalled the parrot from his cage
- overhead, excited by this new arrival, gay in colours and ribbons.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s <i>her!</i>” gasped Hiram.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s Signory Rosy-elly!” choked the giant.
- </p>
- <p>
- She came up and sat down beside them sociably in one of the porch chairs.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Honest, boys, it was some time before I could place those names,” she
- chattered. “‘Look & Peak’s Consolidated Aggregation,’ says I to
- myself. ‘Look & Peak,’ I says. And, thinks I, them two old codgers
- must have gone to Kingdom Come. ‘Look & Peak,’ says I,” she went on
- cheerfully, oblivious of the grim stares. “It’s their sons, I says, and so
- I come right along, for I need the job.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Didn’t that ad. say,” demanded Hiram, “that there wa’n’t goin’ to be no
- personal interviews till later arranged for?”
- </p>
- <p>
- She poked each in turn with her parasol, “Oh, I knew if it was their boys
- I’d be taken on after I’d explained the romantic part, which I couldn’t do
- in a letter. But I don’t have to tell <i>you</i>, boys.” She poked them
- jocosely again.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A little old, you say?”
- </p>
- <p>
- They had not spoken.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why, not a bit of it for a jay-town circuit. Of course, it isn’t a
- three-ringer job for me any more, or else I wouldn’t be down here talking
- to Look & Peak. But I’m still good for it all—rings, banners,
- hurdles, rump-cling gallop, and the blazing hoop for the wind-up. You know
- what I can do, boys. Remember old times. Take me on for old times’ sake.”
- She gave each one the leer of the faded coquette.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram was the first to recover, for the edge of his regret had been dulled
- by the long course of treatment he had received from Simon. This worn-out
- creature completed the job.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Ain’t you ashamed to face us two?” he rasped. “You that run away from <i>me</i>
- and ruined <i>him?</i>”
- </p>
- <p>
- “My sakes!” she cried. “You ain’t so unprofessional as to remember all
- that silliness against me, are you? I was only a girl then, and you
- couldn’t expect me to love you—either of you. I’m a poor widow now,”
- she sighed, “and I need work. You don’t mean to say that you’ve been
- layin’ up grudges against me all these years—the two of you? What
- would your wives have said?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “We never got married,” returned Look and Peak in mournful duet.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You’re lucky!” she snapped. “I married a cheap, worthless renegade, and
- he stole my money and ran away. He fell off a trapeze and broke his neck,
- and I was glad of it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “So’m I,” grunted Hiram, casting a soulful glance at Simon. “No, I ain’t,
- either,” he corrected himself hastily. “I’m sorry he didn’t live to
- torment you. No,” he roared, “I ain’t sorry for anything, except it was
- poor Sime Peak’s money the two of you got away with.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Peak sighed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I want to say to you, Signory Rosy-elly,” went on Hiram, tipping his
- hat to one side and hooking his thumb into the armhole of his vest, “it
- wa’n’t <i>my</i> money you got, and it never will be my money you’ll get.
- You just made the mistake of your life when you run away from me, and you
- can chew that cud for the rest of your life.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “He’s got forty thousand dollars in the bank,” hoarsely whispered Simon
- behind his hand, willing to add his mite to her discomfiture.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Correct!” agreed Hiram. It was really a moment worth waiting for through
- the years, he reflected.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Twenty can play as well as one,” croaked the parrot, his beady eye
- pressed between the bars of his cage.
- </p>
- <p>
- The signora glanced up at this new speaker, eyed Absalom with a sage look
- that he seemed to return, and, after a moment of thought, said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Thanks for the suggestion, old chap! Three can play as well as two. Now,
- Look, you know that I’m always outspoken and straight to the point. No
- tinderhanded bluff for me. I’m going to sue you for ten thousand!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Crack ’em down, gents!” remarked Absalom with grim patness.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram could not resist casting a malevolent stare at the unconscious
- humourist in the cage.
- </p>
- <p>
- For one startled moment he stared at the woman in fear, and then,
- recovering composure, tilted his cigar in the corner of his mouth with
- cocky assurance.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I want to know,” he blurted sarcastically. “Breach of promise, I <i>per</i>-sume?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Good aim! You’ve rung the bell!” replied the lady coolly.
- </p>
- <p>
- The impudence of the bare suggestion fetched a gasp from both men.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram was striving to be haughtily indifferent and disdainful. But this
- thrust was too much for his composure. He felt one of those old-time fits
- of rage come bristling up the back of his head, the fury of old, when he
- had tried to wither that same giddy creature in his spasms of jealousy.
- </p>
- <p>
- But she broke in on him with the same icy assurance that used to put him
- out of countenance.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I know all that, Look. But how are you going to prove that I’ve been
- married? Where are you going to hunt for witnesses? Professional people
- are like wild geese—roosting on air and moulting their names like
- feathers. You two are going to seem like a couple of old frauds standing
- up in court against me! You haven’t got the first elements of acting to
- you! Observe how I take my cue! Jury a-listening! I’ve been hunting the
- world over for you. You hid here. Here I find you—I, a poor,
- deserted woman, whose life has been wrecked by your faithlessness. Me with
- a crape veil, a sniff in my nose, crushed-creature face make-up and a
- smart lawyer, such as I have in mind this very minute. And the jury
- knowing that you’ve got the money! Why, Look, you can save thousands by
- handing me your bankbook!”
- </p>
- <p>
- In his fury Hiram grabbed her chair and tipped it forward violently in
- order to dump her off his sacred porch. She flew out into space with a
- flutter of skirts, landed as lightly as a cat, and pirouetted on one toe,
- crooking her arms in the professional pose that invites applause.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This is the first time Signora Rosyelli, champion bareback rider, ever
- tried to ride a mule,” she chirped, “but you see she can do it and make
- her graceful dismount to the music of the band. I’ll be at the tavern down
- here two days, ready to listen to any kind of talk that combines pleasure
- and profit. After that you take your own chances.”
- </p>
- <p>
- She tossed to each of them a kiss from her finger-tips and went switching
- jauntily down the road.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That beats Tophet and repeat!” remarked Simon after a time. He had
- watched her nearly out of sight.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram held his peace.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What are you goin’ to do?” his friend inquired falteringly at last.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Fight her!” roared Hiram, leaping to his feet and striding up and down
- the porch. “Fight her clear’n to the high, consolidated Supreme Court
- aggregation of the United States, or whatever they call it!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nobody has ever beat her out yit, except Delly-bunko, and we ain’t in his
- class,” sighed Simon, with much despondency.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You don’t think, do you, that I’m goin’ to set down and lap my thumb and
- finger and peel her off ten thousand dollars?’”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, it’s lucky that you’ve got a brother that’s the smartest lawyer in
- the county,” said Peak, with an attempt at consolation. “He has showed
- that much out pretty plain, even to me. I never see him manage anywhere,
- except in town meetin’, but I——”
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram had been sunk in reverie, but this unfortunate remark brought him
- out of it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hain’t I told you never to mention my brother to me except when I ask you
- to?” he demanded fiercely. “I don’t want any man that I ain’t spoke to for
- four weeks slung into my face. Hain’t I goin’ to take to the ro’d again to
- get rid of him? If he was the last lawyer on God’s footstool he couldn’t
- take a case for me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He resumed his striding.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why don’t you and she git married, and we’ll all live here happy ever
- after?” suggested Peak, wistfully, following a period of pondering. “If it
- was in a book it would end off like that—sure pop!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, there ain’t no book to this, not by a dum-sight!” replied Hiram
- tartly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But it would settle one thing, and you ain’t hitched up in any other
- direction,” persisted Simon stubbornly, yet warily. Hiram’s renewed visits
- up country since he had so definitely and precipitately retired from town
- affairs in Palermo had again been stirring the jealous fears of the
- anxious old “grafter.” He feared the widow Abilene Snell with the fear of
- the bird that sees the hunter approaching its nest.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I thought I told you never to twit me on that point again,” snarled
- Hiram, trying to be calm.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I ain’t twittin’,” expostulated Simon. “If you hadn’t got so touchy
- lately you would see that I ain’t twittin’. But if you ain’t no idee of
- gittin’ married up country, why, you——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You—shet—up!” shouted Hiram, with a wag of his head for each
- word.
- </p>
- <p>
- Long silence followed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “So you’re bound to go to court?” asked Peak, recovering courage when he
- saw Hiram peering at him wistfully, as though seeking encouragement.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Low court—high court—clear’n to the ridge-pole—-clear’n
- to the cupoly, and then I’ll shin the weather-vane with the Star-Spangled
- Banner of justice between my teeth.” He slapped his hand on his knee.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I heard a breach of promise trial once, a long time ago,” related Simon,
- half closing his eyes in reminiscence. “Of course this ain’t nothin’ to do
- with you and your case, but I can’t help sayin’ that that trial was the
- funniest thing I ever heard. I never laughed so hard in my life. It beat a
- show, that trial did. ’Twas all of twenty years ago, and I’ll bet
- the people down there laugh yet when they see that feller walk along the
- street. Them letters he wrote was——Is there letters in your
- case, Hiram?”
- </p>
- <p>
- He turned an innocent gaze on the showman.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram mopped his face.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I—I b’lieve there was,” he faltered. “She flung out somethin’ about
- havin’ ’em now. Mebbe she has. A cussed woman never loses anything
- that you want her to.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, prob’ly your letters ain’t like his letters,” continued Simon, trying
- to console. “You’ve got sense about such things.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I remember that them letters that that feller wrote was certainly the
- squashiest—why, ev’ry one of ‘em seemed to woggle jest like a
- tumbler of jelly—sweet and sloppy, as you might say. It bein’ so
- long ago when you wrote to her, I don’t suppose you remember just what you
- wrote, do you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- His stare was still full of innocence.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram was sitting looking down into a knot-hole, a hot flush crawling up
- from under his collar. He took off his plug hat and scuffed his wrist
- across his steaming forehead.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But prob’ly yours was all good sense,” Simon went on. “Why, there was men
- lugged right out of that court-room in hysterics, and had to be pounded on
- the back by dep’ty sheriffs to bring ’em to. I remember one letter
- called her ‘Ittikins, Pittikins, Popsy Sweet,’ and she was settin’ there
- in the court-room with a face on her sourer’n a dill pickle. Thought I’d
- die a-laughin’! Of course you didn’t git no such sculch as that into your
- letters, and so the trial won’t be funny. But you bein’ so prominunt now
- and havin’ forty thousand in the bank, and bein’ known to a good many
- people ’round up country since Imogene’s scrape there took you out
- amongst folks——”
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram couldn’t detect any hidden meaning in Simon’s guileless mien and
- reference to “up country,” and though he stared hard, he did not
- interrupt. “As I say, bein’ now, as you might call it, a solid citizen, it
- will certainly tickle folks somethin’ tremendous if there is any such
- mushiness in your trial.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A student in physiognomy might have read that memory was playing havoc
- with Hiram Look’s resolution.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I was tryin’ to think,” went on Peak, knuckling his forehead, “what it
- was that the signory was tellin’ me that time when she rode away with me.
- She’s such a liar that there ain’t no tellin’ nothin’ by what she says,
- but it seems to me she told me that you called her something like
- ‘Sweety-tweety’ or ‘Tweeny-weeny girlikins’—somethin’ like that. She
- lied, prob’ly, and of course you’d never put anything like that into a
- letter. How them newspapers do like to string out things—funny kind
- of things—when a man is prominunt and has got money in the bank!
- Folks can’t help laughin’—they jest nat’rally can’t, Hime! There
- you’ll be settin’ in that court-room lookin’ ugly as a gibcat, and her
- lawyer’ll be readin’ them letters with that kind of sassy——”
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram got up, kicked his chair off the porch, and in rage that he couldn’t
- control he shook his fist under Peak’s nose.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Twit me another word—just one other word—and I’ll drive that
- old nose of your’n clear’n up into the roof of your head!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He stumped away around the corner of the house and disappeared in the
- barn.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If the Court ain’t mistook,” soliloquised Simon, settling himself into a
- more comfortable position in his chair, “Hime Look has got at least three
- elephants on his hands now. He’s got one out there in the barn with him
- that eats hay, one down to the tavern that eats money, and one up country
- that will eat him, if he don’t look out.” Then he spread his handkerchief
- over his face and went to sleep.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram waked him up an hour or so later.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sime,” he said humbly, “I’ve been out there set-tin’ down on the hay and
- rememberin’ back about what I wrote to her—and it’s all of it pretty
- clear in my mind, ’cause I never wrote love letters to any one
- else. And I can’t face it. I can’t set in court and hear it. I couldn’t
- ever face any one that knowed me here or elsewhere.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I couldn’t start on the ro’d with a circus and have the nerve to stand in
- front of the big tent after it and bark like I used to. There’d be
- somebody there a-knowin’ to it, and they’d grin me out of bus’ness. I’d be
- backed into the stall. No, I can’t do it. If I git to talkin’ with her
- again there’ll be murder done. It can’t be known that I’m havin’ any truck
- with her. I can’t ever see her again. You got to go down, Sime, and see
- what she’ll compromise for.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It has got to be compromised, has it?” asked the other earnestly. A
- little gleam in his eye showed that he had something on his mind—a
- doubt that he wanted to satisfy at last.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now the only way for us to go into this thing, Hime,” he said, “is for
- both of us to be square and open. Don’t you yap out at me that I’m nosin’
- into your bus’ness or tryin’ to twit. But if you want this whole thing
- fixed up secret, so that—so that—” he gulped—“so that
- your widder up country won’t get track of it, then it’s only right for you
- to tell me whuther your intentions up that way is serious.”
- </p>
- <p>
- For a little while Hiram scowled at his companion in perfectly fiendish
- manner.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You talk about bein’ persistent!” he growled. “Talk about a bull-dog
- hangin’ to a tramp’s leg! For four months conversation between us ain’t
- ever took a turn but what you’ve tried to get your little gimlet into me.
- Now ’cause you’ve got me into a corner you’re out with an auger.
- Well, I’ll tell you, dum blast ye! I’m courtin’ Mis’ Snell, and I’m goin’
- to have her if she’ll have me. There! Chaw on that gumdrop a while!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The showman glared at Peak and the latter shifted his gaze.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Much obliged,” he said. “There’s nothin’ like having straight facts to go
- on.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He clapped his hat hard onto his head with a hollow tunk.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What’s the final instructions?” he inquired.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Nothin’ but to settle it as cheap as you can and shet her blasted mouth,”
- returned Hiram, setting his elbows on his knees and looking again into the
- knot-hole.
- </p>
- <p>
- If he had changed his steady gaze from the knothole two hours later, it
- was not apparent to Simon Peak when he returned.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I wrassled with her, Hime, just as tough and tight as though it was my
- own money that I was handlin’. If I done it right or not I donno. I ain’t
- ever been used to talkin’ about so much money before. But I’ve got her
- beat down to,” he drew a long breath, “sixty-six hundred, and she swears
- she won’t take a cent less. You know how set she gits on a thing!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram bored him suspiciously with his eye for a moment and snarled:
- </p>
- <p>
- “It sounds to me as though she was goin’ to get five thousand and you was
- pers’nally lookin’ after your little old sixteen hundred.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A couple of tears squeezed out and down over the giant’s flabby cheeks.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There ain’t a day passed since you got back from up country, Hime, but
- what you’ve misjudged me some way, somehow. You misjudged me years ago.
- You’re doin’ it this minit. And it’s all on account of some missabul woman
- that I’m misjudged. I wish they was all in——”
- </p>
- <p>
- His voice broke here and he turned away.
- </p>
- <p>
- Sudden contrition, and as sudden fear that Peak, offended, might desert
- him in his need, assailed Hiram.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I ain’t responsible for what I’m sayin’ to-day, Sime,” he pleaded. “You
- know what has happened to stir me up. I’ve been stirred up all my life,
- somehow. You’ll have to overlook it in me. There ain’t nobody I ever got
- along with better’n I have with you—when all is said. I’ll show you
- later that I appreciate it, too. We’ll get along together all right after
- this. All is, you must see me through and keep her mouth plugged.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Then the two tall hats bent together in earnest conference.
- </p>
- <p>
- That evening one of Hiram Look’s horses, hitched to Hiram’s best carriage,
- pranced up to the door of Fyles’ tavern, and the thin woman hopped in
- lightly, snuggled herself down beside Simon Peak, and away they went.
- </p>
- <p>
- In Simon’s inside pocket was one of Hiram’s bankbooks showing deposits of
- a generous amount in one of the savings banks at the county shire. Between
- its leaves was tucked an order signed by Hiram Look, and directing that
- money should be paid over to Simon Peak, who would be identified by one of
- the showman’s friends in the city. There were blank spaces in the order
- for the insertion of the amount of money to be drawn.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’m going to show you what I think of you, Sime,” Hiram had declared in a
- burst of enthusiasm. “You said I misjudged you. Well, here’s showin’ you
- that I ain’t. I’m goin’ to leave that order blank ’cause I believe
- in you. I’ll bet you’re friend enough of mine to beat her down another
- notch. I’ll bet you can do it. Fill in the amount and draw when it’s
- settled. Stay till you get them letters, put her on a train and come back,
- and I’ll show ye that Hime Look appreciates a friend in need.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was a piece of impulsiveness that worried the showman considerably
- during the next day or two, as he sat watching for the head of the gray
- horse to come bobbing around the alders. His hard life had taught him to
- distrust men’s honesty and faith. He wondered as he sat there what had
- influenced him to put so much trust in Peak on the spur of the moment.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s on account of gittin’ softened up by women, that’s what it is,” he
- grunted in soliloquy. “There I was with a tin can tied to my tail and
- runnin’ around in a circle and afraid of the two of ’em. No, I
- ain’t afraid of Abby Snell! But it’s wuth more than one five thousand
- dollars to keep it away from her that I ever fell in love with a circus
- woman and wrote such letters as——”
- </p>
- <p>
- Again the red flush came up from under his collar.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, I have trusted Sime,” he would mumble aloud, after he had stared at
- the corner of the alders until his eye ached. “I’ve trusted him, I say!
- But when your old neighbours and your own brother skins you, then it’s
- time to turn to strangers and get used white. It’s your own folks that do
- you the wust—it allus has been so, it prob’ly allus will be so. But—-I
- could go to the shire and ’tend to that bus’ness and crawl back on
- my hands and knees before this. She was a-goin’ to telegraft for them
- letters, cuss her!”
- </p>
- <p>
- On the third day, when “Figger-Four” Avery bobbed back from the
- post-office with the mail, there was a thick packet among the letters that
- Hiram opened first with trembling fingers, for he had recognised Simon
- Peak’s handwriting.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was the letter wrapped around the bankbook that Hiram tackled first. He
- skimmed it with his one eye bulging like a rabbit’s. It was in a way an
- apologetic letter, and yet it was flavoured with a note of complaint.
- Simon Peak went on to state that he had thought it all over prayerfully.
- Each time that a woman had come into their affairs he had been misjudged.
- Now that his suspicions as to the up-country widow had been confirmed, he
- could plainly see that he would sooner or later be misjudged again and,
- being old, he could not endure any more griefs of the sort, seeing that
- Hiram was his best and his only friend. He was too tender-hearted to stand
- it—and, besides, he had heard that the widow was neater than wax and
- smarter than a hornet, and under her administration spittoons and general
- freedom would have to be abandoned. Moreover, he believed that the
- conscience of Signora Rosyelli had troubled her ever since the episode of
- the sixteen hundred dollars. Furthermore, letting her have all that money
- to go away with and do with as she liked wouldn’t be the retribution that
- she deserved. It was too much money for a woman to handle——
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram yanked open the bankbook and glared at the balance. There had been a
- withdrawal of ten thousand dollars.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the more crucial moments of his life Hiram Look had frequently
- refrained from anathema. Some situations were made too matter-of-fact by
- cursing. Now he stood up, shoved his arms above his head, gulped a half a
- dozen times, blew out his breath with a “Poof!” and sat down again.
- </p>
- <p>
- After wiping his forehead with the flat of his hand he went on with the
- letter.
- </p>
- <p>
- Simon apologised for having overstepped the first estimates, but explained
- that he had acted thus for reasons that must appeal to Hiram. The sum was
- sufficient to make the signora want to stick to him, and that would keep
- her away from Hiram. He had destroyed the letters and buttoned the money
- into his inside pocket, and told her if she wanted to enjoy any of it she
- must marry him. He said that as her husband he should control affairs
- absolutely. The writer pointed out that this was real retribution to such
- a woman, and he assured Hiram that he would always strive to make her
- realise her position daily and hourly. Under such circumstances the small
- extra amount that he had taken was moderate salary indeed for the services
- he was rendering an old friend, and he trusted that Hiram would hereafter
- enjoy life, knowing that a woman who had betrayed him was getting punished
- for her infidelity.
- </p>
- <p>
- The postscript stated that he had kept the team as a wedding present, and
- they were going to do the gift-sale graft at fairs from the carriage—having
- now the necessary capital. With deep regard for him and all inquiring
- friends, they were, etc.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram’s eye at last found the knot-hole in the platform, and he sat with
- his elbows on his knees and regarded it for a long time. At first his face
- was ridged and knotted with fury that his moving lips could not express.
- Then there came grief in the puckers around his mouth—the grief of a
- man who felt that the whole world was against him.
- </p>
- <p>
- He, sitting there—he who had not dared to meet the grinning voters
- of Palermo since that town meeting, the man who now held this riddled
- bankbook and that unspeakable letter crumpled in his grasp was the same
- man who had boasted that no one had ever “done” him!
- </p>
- <p>
- He pulled off his tall hat in order to wipe his damp forehead.
- </p>
- <p>
- He regarded its fuzzy nap with growing malevolence. Somehow, it seemed to
- suggest the braggart, the showman, grafting women, Simon Peaks and the
- atmosphere of tricksters. He set it upon the platform, stamped it into
- shapelessness, and then kicked it with all his might. It landed in the top
- of the lilac bush.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Crack ’em down, gents!” squalled the parrot excitedly. He had been
- watching his master with solicitude for many hours, and this sudden
- activity reassured him.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram glanced up at Absalom with a vindictiveness that should have warned
- the bird, and then sat down in his chair. He turned over Simon’s letter,
- flattened it on his bankbook, and began to write on the surface with a
- stubby lead pencil that he had licked carefully:
- </p>
- <p>
- “For Sale—One band waggon, one swan chariot, three lion cages, one
- round-top——”
- </p>
- <p>
- He was interrupted.
- </p>
- <p>
- Squire Phin came up the little path from the road and took a seat on the
- porch.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram bent his brows in a scowl and looked at him, pencil poised above the
- paper.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ll make my business brief, brother,” said the lawyer, with a wistful
- humility that pricked Hiram a bit, despite his rancour. “I realise how you
- feel toward me, and I have not come upon your porch without good reason.
- You may not have noticed that I have been away for a day or two, for you
- haven’t been very much interested in my movements for some time. But I
- have been absent. I’ve been at the shire on some law business.
- </p>
- <p>
- “One of my friends who is a trustee in the Union Savings Bank mentioned to
- me that one Simon Peak, accompanied by a strange woman, had drawn ten
- thousand dollars on your order, after having been identified by one of the
- traders near by. I was inter-: ested enough to want to see that order, and——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Say, ain’t I got any bus’ness of any kind that I can ’tend to
- myself without some one pokin’ in their nose?” demanded Hiram with fury.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I plead guilty to being a meddler, Hiram,” returned the Squire calmly.
- “But I’ve taken the chances. I figured you could not dislike me any more
- for doing this than you did before. And whatever else we are, you are my
- brother, and Simon Peak is a man of whom I have always been distrustful. I
- saw that the amount in the order had been filled in by some one else than
- yourself. I didn’t know then what deal you could have with Peak. I don’t
- know now, for I didn’t believe a word of the yarn he told me—-but
- the amount of the matter is, Hiram, I took measures to have Peak and his
- companion followed and apprehended. I interviewed them privately; I made
- them disgorge, and here is your money—all except a couple of hundred
- dollars. I gave them that much and the team so that they could get out of
- the State and not annoy you any more. You’ll not see them again. I told
- them that I’d put the two of them into State prison as blackmailers if
- they showed up here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He laid a thick wallet upon his brother’s lap.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If I have meddled in your affairs, brother, forgive me. But I couldn’t
- stand by and see two thieves run away with what you have worked so hard to
- earn.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram fumbled at the package a moment and then banged it down on the
- platform, his face working with emotion whose nature was not easily to be
- determined.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Just one moment, Hiram, before you reproach me,” said the Squire hastily.
- “Wait! Not a word’ from you now! I’m going to take advantage of this
- opportunity and be honest with you. You were right that day in town
- meeting, brother. If in everything in this world we must hew to the line
- of justice, you were right that day. But I tell you, Hiram, you and I both
- have seen that it isn’t always safe to hew to the line. I stood there
- fighting for the financial peace and confidence of our little town, but
- most of all for the woman I love, and when you got in the way I struck
- you. That’s the truth of it, brother. And I’m afraid I’d do it again,
- Hiram, for you can’t expect the perfect man to come out of the Look
- family. The only thing I can promise you, brother, is to be honest with
- you, and I am that—square with you through thick and thin, and I
- will always be that. But you have got to keep your hands off my treasures—-and
- you know what they are!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He held out his open palm and smiled.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Can’t you take my hand on that, brother Hiram?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ve got just a little favour to ask of you, Phin,” said Hiram, his hands
- still at his side. “I want you to leave me here on this porch ten minutes
- so that I can get fit to grip your hand. I can do a good deal of helpful
- thinkin’ in ten minutes, Phin. And when I come ’round the corner of
- that house, boy, it will be the differentest man you ever see. And I want
- you to put out your hand and shake just as if I was home for the first
- time after all those years—and I guess that’s the fact of the case,
- brother.”
- </p>
- <p>
- When the Squire, with head bowed and with a smile on his lips, reached the
- corner of the house Hiram hailed him. There was such a queer note in his
- brother’s voice that the lawyer whirled in some astonishment.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram stood, the points of his long moustache tightly gripped in one hand
- under his chin, as though he were trying to pull down the corners of his
- lips that were spreading into a broader and rather foolish smile.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I just wanted to warn you, Phin,” he chuckled, “that I’ve got a little
- something in the way of—of—-well, as you said, ‘treasures’ to
- talk about.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Treasures!” repeated the lawyer, wonderingly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, that’s what she is!” blurted Hiram. “And you don’t ever have to
- apologise for what you did to me. I know how it is. I’ve got a critter to
- walk over in the same way.” And with this enigmatic statement he waved a
- hand at his brother and went back to his chair.
- </p>
- <p>
- He began to frown again as he wrote.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s goin’ to be a clean sale,” he muttered. “I don’t never in all my
- life want to see a circus, hear of a circus, talk with a circus man——”
- </p>
- <p>
- The parrot hooked his beak around a wire and rattled away jovially:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Crack ’em down, gents!” he shrieked.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram shot an angry glance and an oath at the cage.
- </p>
- <p>
- “No, sir, never! They may molasses ye over at first, but it’s only to make
- ye easier to swaller. Own folks don’t do that. You know just where to find
- ’em, there’s that much about ’em. It’s goin’ to be a clean
- sale. Think of it—me a man that has been through it all from A to Z
- being held up by——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Twenty can play it as well as one!” remarked the parrot.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was a hideous scowl that Hiram flashed up.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not only trimmin’ me, but makin’ me run the risk of goin’ to court and
- havin’ it trailed out from Clew to Erie!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s the old army game, gents!” the parrot squalled. His tone was
- nerve-racking.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram rose, yanked the bottom out of the cage, caught the squawking bird
- after considerable damage to a forefinger, wrung his neck, walked down to
- the road, and flung him far over the opposite stone wall. When he came
- back he caught the battered hat from the top of the lilac bush and sent it
- after the deceased Absalom.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then, sucking his bleeding finger at intervals, he went on writing his
- advertisement.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXII—HOW SYLVENA WILLARD “TRIED IT ON THE DOG,”
- </h2>
- <h3>
- WITH HAPPY RESULTS
- </h3>
- <p class="indent10">
- Dan’l and Dunk and the yaller dog
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Were owners and crew of the Pollywog,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- A hand-line smack that cuffed the seas, ’tween ’Tinicus
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Head and Point Quahaug.
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- Dunk owned half and Dan owned half, and the yaller
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- dog was also “joint”;
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- They fished and ate
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And swapped their bait,
- </p>
- <p class="indent20">
- And allus agreed on every point.
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- —“Ballads of the Banks.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t did not surprise
- the people of Palermo when the word passed that Judge Collamore Willard
- had decided to retire from business.
- </p>
- <p>
- His callers had noticed his failing strength through the winter months,
- his unsteady gait, the tremulous wavering of his hands when he scrabbled
- among the papers on his table. They ascribed all this to the infirmities
- of age. Gossip that he had lost money, or that there was some basis for
- the sensational charges flung at him by Hiram Look, fell upon barren soil
- of belief in Palermo. Local confidence in the Willard fortunes and Willard
- integrity was too strong to be weakened thus.
- </p>
- <p>
- Old men, spinsters and widows came straggling in, after persistent
- drumming at them by the Squire, to receive the sums due them. The process
- of settlements covered many days, and the lawyer had need of all his
- patience.
- </p>
- <p>
- For old folks, even when the money was in their hands, stood by the
- Judge’s table and begged him to take it back.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Banks is failin’ and thieves is stealin’,” was their lament. “There ain’t
- nobody ever done so well by us as you, Judge. It won’t bother you none to
- take care of just this little. We won’t say nothin’ about your havin’ it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- At times like these the Judge turned a wistful gaze on the lawyer, and
- with something of appeal in his eyes. But he met; always the shake of the
- head and the tightening of the lips.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You can’t afford to take a single chance, Judge,” the Squire had told him
- at the beginning of the business. “You must not owe one man a dollar. Your
- books and your papers will be your own, then. And they must be burned.
- Evidence of this sort must not haunt your last days or your family after
- you are gone. Forgive me for having made the conditions that I have, but
- it is the only way out for all of us.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Those in town who were at first surprised that Squire Look had been
- accepted as the Judge’s man of business found ready explanation in the
- public quarrel of the Look brothers, and the fact that the Squire was
- better qualified than any one else in Palermo to manage the affairs of an
- old man whose grip on them had slipped.
- </p>
- <p>
- Outsiders saw only the relations of client and lawyer.
- </p>
- <p>
- Even such an insider as the Squire himself had been seeing not much else
- during the weeks that had elapsed since the town meeting.
- </p>
- <p>
- For on the first day of the many on which he came to Judge Willard’s
- office he had met Sylvena, and she had such a new, strange, even
- disquieting light in her eyes that he had blurted something that gave her
- final and complete proof that he understood his musty law books better
- than he did a woman’s heart.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sylvie,” he said, “I have been ashamed of myself ever since. I had no
- right to take advantage just because you asked a favour of me that a
- friend ought to be ready and willing to grant. I’m an old brute, and I
- know it. You asked me to help your father, and I reached out across your
- heart and your needs and grabbed as a robber grabs at a pocketbook. I’m
- ashamed of it. I ought to know that that isn’t the way to win a woman, but
- I reckon I don’t know much of anything outside of my law. No, don’t try to
- forgive me! I’ve got the old grip on myself again. You needn’t worry!”
- </p>
- <p>
- And she, with her heart stirring ever since that day when for the first
- time a true man’s earnest, eager, imperious love had claimed her—she
- who had come to him again yearning for a confirmation even, sweeter, bit
- her lips when he whirled and left her, gazed after him with eyes that
- filled, and then—well, then she stamped her foot and muttered
- something that it would have astonished the Squire to hear.
- </p>
- <p>
- He did not see her on every visit. But sometimes she was on the porch, and
- when the weather grew warmer she was often busy with her shrubs on the
- lawn.
- </p>
- <p>
- The constant reserve on his part appeared to be contriteness for having
- once presumed in a trying moment.
- </p>
- <p>
- Her reserve was something that developed into an air that closely
- resembled irritability, and he couldn’t understand it in the least. It
- made him draw a little more closely into his shell. He thought that
- perhaps memory of his fault stirred hotly within her when she saw him—perhaps
- as the memory of that kiss burned even now on his lips.
- </p>
- <p>
- Therefore matters of the Squire’s heart were in fully as bad a way as
- matters of the Judge’s pocket.
- </p>
- <p>
- With the true status of her father’s position, financially and morally,
- Sylvena was mercifully unacquainted, for when she had fearfully questioned
- him he had as fearfully paltered and denied.
- </p>
- <p>
- The old dog Eli was the only one who was really cheered by the visits of
- Phineas Look to the Willard place.
- </p>
- <p>
- At first he had sat on the door-step of the office, meditatively gazing
- out across the Cove.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then one day he remarked a very pretty lady who was surveying him from the
- window of the house, and was apparently motioning to him. But as Eli had
- never found that pretty ladies were at any time much interested in fuzzy
- old dogs, he reckoned he must be mistaken about the beckoning. However, he
- gently wagged his tail in order to be on the safe side of agreeability.
- Then he looked away with some embarrassment.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, if that isn’t like master, like dog, may I be blessed,” stated the
- lady in the window to herself with much decision.
- </p>
- <p>
- She came to the door, opened it a bit, and called through the crack with
- impatient tone:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Here, you old fool, come in here and get a bite to eat. I’d like to speak
- out in just that same way to some one else,” she added.
- </p>
- <p>
- Eli promptly detected something like hostility in the voice and stopped
- wagging his tail. He hunched down his head and dropped his ears.
- </p>
- <p>
- The lady surveyed him with disfavour.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I suppose if I get down on my knees and put out both hands and smile and
- say, ‘Doggie, doggie, dear, good doggie, come here!’ why, then doggie will
- condescend to come. But I won’t do it!”
- </p>
- <p>
- She closed the door with an emphatic slam that made Eli jump, and went
- back to the window.
- </p>
- <p>
- But something in the mien of the old dog, who sat wistfully eyeing the
- closed door, touched her heart.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’m blaming him for something he don’t know—something he don’t
- understand,” she murmured at last, pity in her eyes. She went to the door
- and opened it wide. Then she stooped forward and wriggled her fingers
- coaxingly as she said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “You nice old fellow, come here.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He hesitated.
- </p>
- <p>
- She pursed her lips and invited him with crisp little noises that sounded
- like kisses. She must have realised the suggestiveness of these sounds,
- for she suddenly blushed furiously and began to call to the dog softly and
- winningly.
- </p>
- <p>
- He came, his shaggy ears cocked up with expectancy, his tail expressing
- his most genial appreciation of the invitation.
- </p>
- <p>
- That was Eli’s first visit to the Willard kitchen in company with the
- pretty lady.
- </p>
- <p>
- If he’d had a tongue that could speak, instead of merely loll in thankful
- gusto after his repasts in that kitchen, he could have told Squire Phin of
- a pretty lady with red cheeks and a touch of gray at her temples who often
- snuggled her face close to his tousled ears and spoke in a tone sometimes
- that amazed him mightily, and who one day rose in haste, drove some tears
- from her eyes, and said with the determination of a woman who has searched
- and found:
- </p>
- <p>
- “You’d better come along, too, Eli, for it’s business that concerns that
- master of yours!”
- </p>
- <p>
- And she started from the kitchen straight for her father’s office, the old
- dog waddling at her heels.
- </p>
- <p>
- Five minutes before that Squire Phin had pushed his elbows into the papers
- on the big table, leaned forward with clasped fingers, and said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “We’ve got now, Judge, where we can see the way clear. I have turned into
- money for you everything except this house and contents. The mortgage on
- it has been paid.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Judge began a stammering inquiry, but the lawyer checked him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ve got to tell you the truth about it, Judge. I advanced the money
- myself to do it. About three thousand dollars are due you from men who
- will pay some time but can’t now without being hard put to it to raise the
- money. I’ll take those accounts and advance the cash. We have paid every
- cent you owe and squared with every depositor.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The lawyer stared at the old man in silence for a time.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ll be frank and say that in order to bring about this settlement I have
- put in every cent of money I have saved, all that Hiram paid me, and have
- used certain fees I have received lately from several large cases. But I
- am the only creditor you have. I want you to sign these notes, running to
- me, for that will be business. But I want to say to you, Judge, that I
- shall not press for payment, nor shall I say one word to any living soul
- that you owe me a cent or are not solvent. There is a residue banked and
- subject to your order sufficient for you to continue your usual way of
- living. Wait a moment until I have finished! I have asked you to lie to
- Sylvena, to contradict some truths that I blurted to her in my folly. It
- was a big thing to ask of a father, but you owe me for lying publicly on
- your behalf. I fear that both of us are sad liars! If you by word or look
- or action ever let your daughter know that you have lost your fortune I
- will withdraw my promise to you and put you to the wall. And that threat
- is the truth, so help me God!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The old Judge licked his trembling lips and took the notes that the Squire
- handed him for signature.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You needn’t feel under any obligation to me, Judge Willard,” went on the
- lawyer. “I’ll square myself somehow, sometime. We’ll consider it straight
- business.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “But I know it isn’t straight business,” replied the Judge brokenly. “I
- know that you have done for me what no other man of my whole acquaintance
- would have done. I may guess at part of your reason for it, Phineas. But
- that reason doesn’t absolve me from the obligation I am under to you. I’m
- too broken now to plan or promise. I am an old man—too old to start
- anew. But I don’t believe that God will take me out of this world until I
- have in some way shown you that I appreciate all you have done for me and
- can prove to you that I am sorry for the past. I mean that with all the
- sincerity of an old man that will be judged Above for his deeds on earth
- sooner than you, Phineas!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The eyes of both men were moist, and in a moment of impulsiveness the
- Squire reached across the table and took the Judge’s hand. But when a
- visitor’s touch rattled the outside latch of the door a flash of the old
- Look family feeling caused him to suddenly twitch away. He felt, with a
- certain shame, that he did not want any one to catch him shaking the hand
- of Collamore Willard.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was the Judge’s daughter.
- </p>
- <p>
- She held the door open until Eli had entered, too, with the apologetic
- demeanour of one who knew certain things and was therefore apprehensive.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Father,” she said, her eyes brilliant, her cheeks flushed, but glorious
- in all her aspect, with the poise of a woman who has fully resolved and
- therefore dares, “will I be interrupting you and Phineas too much if I
- take a moment of your time?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I—I think our business is about finished,” said the Judge,
- falteringly. He put his hand over the notes that he had just signed.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have come here,” she went on, “because it is a matter that both of you
- should listen to at the same time. It is simply this, father: Phineas Look
- has spoken his love for me and has shown his love for me. As we all know
- that he is a man whose word is sacred, I take it for granted that he is
- still of the same mind. There have been troubles between our families in
- which I have had no share, but which at your request I respected in some
- measure. I have allowed you to make other promises for me without my
- sanction, for you are my father and it has been the custom in the Willard
- family to honour parents and gainsay them in little.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I have now decided that it is cowardice instead of loyalty that has
- swayed me—for if I were truly loyal to your wishes I would not be
- loving with all my heart and soul the man you have forbidden me to love.
- The Willards have not been cowards. I know I am disobeying you, father.
- But my mind is made up. It will be no use for you to make it harder for us
- both by cruel words. That portion of property that was to have been mine I
- surrender willingly to Kleber. My husband does not want my fortune.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The face of the old man contracted with a sudden grimace of shame and
- pain. Squire Phin, who had been staring at her, his palms outspread on the
- table to prop himself, pushed some papers over the notes spread before the
- Judge and trembled in every muscle.
- </p>
- <p>
- She flashed a sudden look that was half-indignation into his burning eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have I not been unwomanly enough without your making me coax you and
- wheedle you to me, as I have had to woo your old dog?” she demanded,
- stamping her foot. And then seeing that he swayed dizzily at the table,
- confounded by the situation, she came close, reached across over the
- scattered papers and patted his broad hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now what have you got to say to me, Phineas?” she whispered. “I know you
- can talk, for I have listened to you with my heart in my mouth.”
- </p>
- <p>
- But even while the Judge was scrambling up from his chair with stammering
- words on his lips, even as the Squire seized the white hand that fluttered
- above his own, another visitor entered the office.
- </p>
- <p>
- This visitor—and a very obstreperous visitor it was—threw his
- hat upon the table, squared his elbows and glared at the three in turn.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was Captain Kleber Willard of the <i>Lycurgus Webb</i>. His dark
- seaman’s face was streaked with purple blotches, his eyes were bloodshot
- and sullen, and it was apparent that passion and liquor had combined to
- give Captain Willard an unamiable temper. His gaze first singled the
- Squire with an especially furious squint of hatred, but his father spoke
- to him and he whirled on the Judge.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why didn’t you do as you agreed?” he shouted. “Me to Buenos Ayres and
- back, off earnin’ a dollar, where I couldn’t protect myself, and you
- promisin’ to keep that deal covered! Why didn’t you do it, I say?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The old man turned a pitiful glance on his daughter and attempted to quiet
- the angry man with words spoken close to his ear, but the Captain twisted
- away from him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s time the whole of this family knows what the others are about,” he
- raged. “I ain’t doin’ anything that I’m ashamed of. The rest of ye see to
- it that you ain’t, either. I tell ye I won’t keep still. Sylvene Willard
- is old enough to know bus’ness, or she can leave the room. If some that I
- can see here had any instincts of a gentleman they’d get out, too, when a
- family is talkin’ its bus’ness. I tell you, father, you’ve got to explain
- to me how you let me get dropped for ten thousand. You didn’t send Bradish
- the margins as you agreed. You dropped him, too. It’s no use for you to
- hush-a-bye me. I know you did it.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The <i>Webb</i> wasn’t a half a day in New York when Bradish came down to
- show me the documents. It was there in black and white. You backed out and
- dumped us. You dumped Bradish. He hasn’t got the price of a meal. I tell
- you I won’t shut up! If you had gone in on that last deal that Bradish
- told you about we’d have cleaned up a fortune. We depended on you, the
- both of us, to furnish the money. You didn’t do it. You sent King up there
- and then backed out on him. There isn’t any other explanation for it—you
- backed out on him. It only needed money and you didn’t send it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He stamped around the room, picked up his hat, threw it down again and
- went on with his bitter complaints.
- </p>
- <p>
- Squire Phin stood leaning against the edge of the table, very grave, and
- kept his silence. But there were two deep wrinkles between his eyes, and
- the lids narrowed slowly. On his own account the blatant, brutal bursting
- in of this man at the greatest, the sweetest, holiest moment of his life
- had shocked and angered him. The words that he wanted to speak to her were
- choking in his throat. On their account the presence of the man, his
- selfish stormings and threats and complaints, exasperated him in his pity
- for the trembling old man, and the sister, who was at her brother’s side
- as he tramped about the room, pleading with him to be silent and to
- explain to her.
- </p>
- <p>
- At last Captain Willard plumped himself down in the chair that his father
- had vacated and thumped his hard fist on the table.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The sum total is, father, you’ve got to settle with me,” he shouted. “You
- promised to protect me and you didn’t. It’s up to you to make good.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He had from time to time been casting angry glances at the lawyer.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If you’ve got any bus’ness here, Mr. Lawyer Look,” he said insolently, “I
- wish you’d ’tend to it and get out. My father and I don’t want
- audiences when we talk over family matters, and we don’t usually have
- audiences, either.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Squire Phin understood the dumb appeal in the eyes of the Judge. This
- unruly son had hold of one end of his secret and was tugging away
- vigorously. The father realised that the son had the right to demand
- certain explanations. But revelations made to this explosive person could
- not be kept away from the daughter. And over the Judge’s head swung the
- threat of the grim lawyer, sealed with its oath.
- </p>
- <p>
- With instant pity for the old man’s agony of apprehension, the Squire
- acted. He stepped into the affairs of the Willard family with the happy
- consciousness that now he had a right to be there.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Captain Kleber,” he said, “I have been retained by your father as his
- legal adviser. I have been that for some time. You may discuss family
- affairs with him at your leisure and in whatever privacy you wish. On
- account of the state of Judge Willard’s health he has left all his
- business affairs to me. The matter that you have mentioned is one of
- business. You will please come to my office with me, <i>now</i>.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He dwelt on the last word significantly. He took his hat from the table
- and went and stood by the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- When the lawyer had begun to speak the Captain hooked himself forward in
- his chair, his fingers clutching air, his face working with rage.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It was the only thing that King Bradish told me that I didn’t believe,”
- he shouted. “One of the Look family hired as a lawyer by my father? I
- swore it wasn’t so! If it is so, damme if I don’t make you all sick here
- in this place. If it is so——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It certainly is so, Captain,” broke in the Squire, stepping back into the
- room. “You will kindly refrain from making any more comments on the
- matter. Come to my office with me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Comments!” shouted the seaman. “Comments! I ain’t got language enough to
- make comments! Old Dan’l Webster in his palmiest days couldn’t talk fast
- enough to express it. I’ll bet a thousand to one I know what the trouble
- is with you, father. I’ll bet it’s just as King said it was. That skin
- lawyer has got next to you and robbed you—he and his brother, the
- two of ’em! There’s a good reason for your not havin’ money to
- protect your own son if the Look family has got their claws in here. Do
- you hear me, Sylvene? A thousand to one the dogs have ruined this family!
- Why didn’t you send the old man to the lunatic asylum before you let him
- ram us underground this way?”
- </p>
- <p>
- In his fury he had been clutching up the papers on the table and throwing
- them about. Now he suddenly bent forward with goggling eyes, his hands on
- the arms of the chair, and stared long at some slips of paper that he had
- uncovered.
- </p>
- <p>
- He picked them up one after the other, his hands trembling so violently
- that the sheets crackled.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Four notes runnin’ to Phineas Look and signed by Collamore Willard!” he
- yelled. “Four notes and each for five thousand dollars. Four notes! Look
- at ’em!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He staggered up and thrust them under the astonished gaze of Sylvena, but
- with one stride the Squire was there and ripped them from his grasp.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He has robbed us, Sylvene! He’s robbed us,” the Captain went on, mouthing
- like a madman. “He’s got all our money and put us in debt to him beside.
- The thief! The land pirate!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He was making for the lawyer with his fists upraised, but Squire Phin
- struck them down and forced the furious man back into his chair. He held
- him there, glowering down on him with a menace that would have quelled a
- wild beast.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Go ahead, Phin Look,” whimpered the Captain; “put on another scar to
- match the one your brother made!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I propose you shall listen to reason, Kleber,” Squire Phin fairly hissed,
- “even if I have to hold you by the throat while I give you the truth. I
- tell you again to come to my office, and if I fail to satisfy you, then
- the law is open to you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The seaman sank back in his chair limply and the lawyer left him. But as
- he turned to Sylvena with a look of infinite pity on his face, Captain
- Willard leaped up.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Don’t you see now that he has done father and us out of every dollar,
- Sylvene?” he wailed. “Don’t you believe me when I say——”
- </p>
- <p>
- But she came forward hastily and put both her hands into the Squire’s,
- looked up at him trustfully and said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I believe in my—my—husband, that is to be, and that is the
- first and the surest duty of a good wife!” The Squire put his arm about
- her, bent down and kissed her, a happy sob in his throat choking back the
- words he wanted to say.
- </p>
- <p>
- The son stared at them a moment, his jaw dropping, whirled on his father
- with a curse, and then clacking his fists together in impotent rage,
- rushed out of the office with a bang of the door that made the little
- building shiver.
- </p>
- <p>
- With his one free hand the Squire put the crumpled notes to his teeth and
- began quietly to tear at them.
- </p>
- <p>
- He caught her looking at him with wistful inquiry in which there was
- absolute trust.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t know my Bible as well as I do the revised statutes, Sylvie,” he
- said, smiling at her, “but I believe there is a passage somewhere that
- states that a good wife is better than much fine gold, yea, more precious
- than rubies and all beautiful gems. Now with the thorough understanding
- that the Bible is right, let us sit down and have a little family
- conference about some things that a wife should know.” He brushed from her
- hair and shoulders the bits of torn paper, drew her on his knee and began
- to talk. The old Judge sat opposite, gazing mistily out of the window in
- the direction his son had taken.
- </p>
- <p>
- For the first and the last time in his life Squire Phin did not tell the
- whole truth to the woman he loved.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the sad, though unclouded resignation in the eyes of the woman, and
- the dumb gratitude on the face of the old man opposite when he had
- finished, made his lie a holy one.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXIII—HIRAM LOOK’S TWO LIVELY BUSINESS ENGAGEMENTS
- </h2>
- <h3>
- WITH CAPTAIN NYMPHUS BODFISH OF THE “EFFORT”
- </h3>
- <p class="indent15">
- Old Zibe Haines walked out one day,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And a barbed wire fence it stopped his way.
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Never climbed over, never crawled through,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- But he bit that wire right plumb in two.
- </p>
- <p class="indent30">
- —Ballads of “Gumption.”
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">H</span>iram Look was
- approaching Palermo village and letting his horse walk up the long
- Witch-Run hill. He was in the middle of the seat of a brand-new top
- carriage. His elbows were on his knees and he was gazing at the reflection
- of himself in the bright dasher of the carriage. Occasionally he broke out
- into mellow chucklings.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’d have given ten dollars if Phin and all close pers’nal friends had
- been there with me to see it,” he soliloquised. “Me behind the wistery on
- the porch of the widder’s, a-takin’ it all in, and he not knowin’ I was
- there! Phew! Lemme git out a few more of them laughs I’ve had to swaller!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He leaned back and haw-hawed boisterously, to the renewed astonishment of
- the horse, who stopped and bent his head around to gaze at his master.
- </p>
- <p>
- “G’long!” shouted the showman. “I’ve told you all about it three times
- already on the way down. I had to tell some one.”
- </p>
- <p>
- When the horse plodded on he set his elbows on his knees again and went on
- with his delighted monologue. He was rolling it again over his tongue with
- smacks of relish.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yess’r, I had him dead to rights! Had the very letters he’s been writin’
- to that other string to his bow. And then to have him whine to the widder
- that he’d writ’ ’em ’cause he felt sometimes that she was
- gittin’ ready to throw him over and he didn’t want to git left altogether!
- Why, the dum fool! To tumble down like that at the first puff she give
- him! Me? Why, I’d ’a’ lied till there was six inches of glare ice
- in Tophet! I’d ’a’ said I didn’t know how to write! I’d ’a’
- said that I’d been sassin’ Jim the Penman’s grandmother and he was gittin’
- back at me. But he jest caved. I allus knowed he was a fool.
- </p>
- <p>
- “And me a-settin’ there with my thumb in my vest armhole, takin’ it all in
- and fattin’ on the ribs! Why, I’ve heard men git down and beg, I’ve seen
- dogs set up on end and whine for a bone, I’ve seen a cat coax for
- milk-strainin’s, but never nothin’ like the way that man got down and
- rolled over and jumped through and played dead for that widder.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Cap Nymp’ Bodfish, you kicked me once, and ’twas in the face and
- eyes of the public, and you was due to git a lot of trouble. I might have
- kicked you back; I might have gone on and broke a few of your arms and
- legs and et cet’ry. But it wouldn’t have been a scientific job like this.
- No, s’r, it wouldn’t have been real soul-satisfyin’. I never got no great
- consolation out of lickin’ a man.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram sighed at his recollections in that line. But his face cleared
- immediately.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Him with his tongue out and his mouth all made up for that twenty
- thousand and the widder! Him as had made his brags about her, and now has
- got to face the grinnin’s and the sneerin’s! It will be lin-g’rin’ agony,
- that’s what it will.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Lordy mighty, will I ever forgit the face he made up when he see me
- behind that wistery! O-h-h-h, I shall wake up in the night and laugh till
- I set the roosters to crowin’. Him a-drivin’ out of the yard with the
- widder givin’ him a few final lambastes with her tongue and me a-stickin’
- my head out through the wistery. He a-tumin’ ’round to git a last
- look at her and seein’ me and realisin’ then—yass’r, realisin’! And
- his wheel ketched on a post and he fell down into the bottom of the waggon
- and began to push against the post like he was tryin’ to shove off a dory—clean
- forgittin’ he was in a team! Oh, what a state that man’s mind must have
- been in!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram rolled to and fro on the carriage seat in an ecstasy of mirth.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Never’ll forgit what she said to him then.
- </p>
- <p>
- “‘Take your reins and back up,’ says she. ‘I don’t want people ’round
- here to think you’re drunk as well as a complete fool, you old
- hump-backed, tarfingered garsoline tank! A pretty farmer you’d make—and
- don’t know a waggon from a dory! Git out of my yard and don’t never let me
- set eyes on you ag’in. I’ve got a man as is a man,’ and she pointed to me,
- and I swow I couldn’t help it! I set my thumb to my nose and give him the
- real, old-fashioned waggle. Ow, haw, haw! Ow, haw, haw!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And then she come right to me and give me a pat on the back and says: ‘It
- didn’t need any of them writin’s to make me give him his come-uppance, Mr.
- Look. I never give a snap of my finger for him, anyway, since I met you.
- Ow, hee-hee!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You seem to be feelin’ ’bout as gay as they make ‘em,” called a
- voice from the roadside.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram started up and wiped the tears of merriment from his eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- Two men were standing by the highway fence, men whose solemn faces were
- streaked by perspiration. One of them carried a small rifle. The other was
- “Sawed-Off” Purday, the Palermo deputy-sheriff. He was armed with a club.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Guess you must have heard the news about your friend,” said Purday, with
- accent on the last word. “Nothin’ else would make you any more tickleder.
- P’raps you’ve seen him along the ro’d. If you have we’ll be much obleeged
- for a clue.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Seen who?” demanded Hiram, thinking at first that the men referred to
- Captain Nymphus Bodfish. He eyed their weapons and felt a qualm of fear,
- for he didn’t know what the exasperated skipper might have prepared for
- him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Klebe Willard.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Klebe Willard!” There was relief as well as astonishment in Hiram’s tone.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, there’s been hell to pave and no pitch hot down in the village,”
- said Doughty, nothing loath to impart sensational news. “There’s four
- possys out after Cap Willard and this is one of ’em. He’s took to
- the woods somewheres and there ain’t no knowin’ where. But I reckon I’ll
- catch him if I only get onto one clue,” he added, confidently. “No one
- ever got away from me yet. Howsomever, it’s leg-weary work, this cuttin’
- acrost pastures and plowed land. You say you ain’t seen hide nor hair of
- him?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I ain’t said nothin’ about it,” retorted Hiram. “But I ain’t seen him, if
- that’s what you’re after. Why in Tophet don’t you tell a man what the
- critter has done instead of standin’ there and chawin’ ter-backer with
- that infernal eight-day motion?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It ain’t altogether clear jest what it was all about,” related Doughty,
- calmly. “All that’s known is that Klebe come whoopin’ into the village
- from Square Harbour to-day and tore into his father’s office and then come
- out and hot-footed home as though Old Nick was after him. In an hour or so
- the old Judge went down to Klebe’s house, and it seems from what the
- neighbours say that Klebe had been tea-in’ up in the meantime and jawin
- Myry, and a little while after the Judge come in he got to goin’ it worse
- about somethin’ or other. There ain’t much head nor tail to stories, but
- as near as I can find out he went to lick the old man, bein’ crazy drunk,
- I reckon, and Myry stepped in between, and he floored the two of ’em
- and kicked over one of the young ones and took to the woods howlin’ like a
- looservee. It’s bad bus’ness.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Purday spat far and sighed dolefully.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Your brother and Sylvene has sort of took charge there to Klebe’s house,”
- the deputy went on. “The old Judge ‘come to’ ’fore I left the
- village. But the doc says Myry is in a turrible bad way with the tunk she
- got. It won’t be none surprisin’ if murder comes out of it. It’s a glister
- for the Willard fam’ly, that’s what it is!”
- </p>
- <p>
- He shifted his club to the other hand and started over the fence.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come along, Bragg,” he commanded. “It’s more’n li’ble that he kept to the
- Bunganuck ridge.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram had no desire to ask further questions. He lashed his hors’e and
- rattled away toward the village at his best speed.
- </p>
- <p>
- It had been one of those unseasonably hot May days, humid and sweltering,
- with thunder-heads boiling above the horizon and a menace in the steaming
- quietness of nature.
- </p>
- <p>
- When Hiram turned in at the yard of the Look place the low sun was dipping
- behind an ominously purple curtain in the west, and there was a jarring
- growl of thunder behind the hills.
- </p>
- <p>
- His brother was not at home.
- </p>
- <p>
- “He may need old Hime for somethin’ or other,” he muttered as
- “Figger-Four” Avery bobbed into the barn leading the horse. “It ain’t
- especially the place for me to go buttin’ in, under the circumstances, but
- I’m a right-hand man for Phin when he needs help, and he knows it now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He hurried away down the street, casting an occasional glance over his
- shoulder at the purple-black curtain of cloud. “It looks as though it was
- goin’ to be a ripper,” he commented.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the yard of the Kleber Willard place little groups of villagers were
- talking in hushed tones.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How be they now inside there, Uncle Buck?” inquired Hiram, solicitously.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Them that’s still inside is in a mighty bad way,” replied the old man,
- grimly. He added yet more grimly, “And them that’s outside is most likely
- wuss off than that.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Them that’s outside!” repeated Hiram, smartly.
- </p>
- <p>
- “That’s what I said. After the Judge come round into his senses they
- thought it was all right to leave him on the sofy till they got ready to
- take him home, and in the gen’ral confusion here he’s got away. Took both
- of Klebe’s young ones with him, the little boy and the little girl, and
- Lord only knows where he’s got to. I tell ye ’twa’n’t safe to leave
- him alone! An old man with the bang he got ’side of the head ain’t
- gittin’ back into his right senses all in a minit.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What are you standin’ around here for, all of ye?” indignantly demanded
- Hiram, raising his voice. “Why ain’t you out tryin’ to find the lost?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why ain’t <i>you?</i>” retorted Uncle Lysimachus. “There’s fifty gone
- after ’em already and the ro’d is still open. They didn’t take it
- with ’em.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire had heard his brother’s voice in the yard and he came to the
- door, his face haggard and grief-stricken.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s an awful thing, brother,” he murmured when Hiram hastened to him.
- “Myra is still insensible and the doctor fears a fracture of the skull.
- But my worst fear now is for Judge Willard and the children.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He cast a troubled look at the sky.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Doesn’t anyone get a word from them?” he asked wistfully.
- </p>
- <p>
- “You hold the fort here, Phin,” returned Hiram with bluff assurance. “I’ll
- find ’em if I have to rake from here to Smyrna with a fine-toothed
- comb. I’m gittin’ to be the greatest finder you ever see, Phin. I found
- the Mayo girl, I found myself at last, I found a woman to-day who’ll have
- me, and now I’ll find the ones you want or die tryin’. Don’t you worry,
- Phin. It’s old Hime for ’em now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He started away on the trot, with no very clear idea of what he would do
- first, but anxious to be moving.
- </p>
- <p>
- Brickett was standing with shoulder set against the side of his door, one
- eye on the shower that was crawling up the sky, the other on a man who sat
- in a waggon before the store and who endeavoured to engage him in
- conversation. “Hard-Times” Wharff was in his favourite position on one
- corner of the platform, his sharp nose tilted toward the heavens and his
- long hair waving in the first whispers from the approaching tempest. A man
- who was on the other corner of the platform stepped down as the showman
- came up. This person accosted Hiram brusquely.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ve got a little bus’ness with you, mister,” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was Captain Nymphus Bodfish, saturnine and resolute.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram was about to return an impatient retort about “other matters to
- attend to just then,” when he caught a word of the conversation between
- Brickett and the man in the waggon.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Donno who it could be, <i>I’m</i> sure,” said Brickett.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I allus knew there was <i>some</i> fools up this way,” said the man, with
- rough jest, “but I didn’t reckon that any of them was fool enough to start
- in a dory right out past Cod Head in the teeth o’ that thing comin’ up
- there.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He nodded a languid head at the big cloud.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I tell ye,” insisted Bodfish, pressing close to Hiram, “your’n and my
- bus’ness will have to be ‘tended to right now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Did you say that you saw a dory makin’ out past Cod Head?” shouted Hiram
- at the man in the waggon, looking past and over Bodfish with an utter
- disregard that made the skipper grit his teeth.
- </p>
- <p>
- “’Ep! Saw it as I was comin’ up the Cove ro’d,” returned the man.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I donno who in sanup it can be,” repeated Brickett.
- </p>
- <p>
- “With fifty men huntin’ for Judge Coll Willard and them two young ones,
- that old man wand’rin’ somewheres out his senses, you ain’t got brains
- enough to guess who it is in that dory?” fairly screamed Hiram. “It’s
- blastnation lucky for you, Ase Brickett, that a man don’t need to do any
- thinkin’ to run his lungs, or you’d die for lack of air.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I say I’ve got bus’ness——” recommenced Bodfish.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yes, and I’ve got bus’ness with <i>you!</i>” barked Hiram, rushing at him
- so furiously that Bodfish staggered back. “This is the bus’ness: You come
- with me as fast as your legs will take you and start that old garsoline
- plunker of your’n. Hiper!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Not on your life! Not for you!” roared Bodfish. “I’ll fight you to a
- standstill first!”
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram did not waste words with the man. He drove both his broad hands
- against his breast, rushed him backward to the store wall and choked him
- until his tongue lolled.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Will ye? Will ye go?” he kept saying.
- </p>
- <p>
- But each time he loosened his grip the skipper only cursed or cried for
- help. He was struggling madly all the time, but Hiram’s strength and
- passion were too much for him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I don’t b’lieve in abusin’ no man,” observed Brickett from his door. “I
- reckon you’d better let that man go, Hime Look. You can’t sass and
- browbeat and bang round ev’ry one in this place.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You fools,” panted Hiram, “Judge Willard and those children are in that
- dory. There is no one else who would try to go out of this place into that
- storm. It’s Judge Willard, I tell you! You are goin’ to take me out, Nymp’
- Bodfish, if I have to tear you apart and lug you down to your packet in
- pound packages. I’ll kill the man that interferes. Will you go, I say?”
- </p>
- <p>
- He fell upon the skipper with such desperate fury that when he again
- released his clutch the man staggered away dizzily in his iron grip.
- </p>
- <p>
- They disappeared around the corner of the storehouse and in a little while
- the sharp “plock-plock” of the <i>Effort’s</i> engine barked in the
- interim of the thunder crashes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Them Looks is sartinly the desp’ritest critters when they git started I
- ever see,” remarked the man in the waggon, after he had watched the two
- men out of sight.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, if he weighed bigger’n that el’phunt of his he wouldn’t lug me and
- my own bo’t off on no such wild-goose chase as he’s goin’ on,” growled
- Brickett, getting ready to shut his big doors. He was apparently
- unconvinced regarding the occupants of the dory. “That was about the
- biggest piece of nerve I ever saw showed out, and I’ve seen some good ones
- in my day.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “And I’ve seen some good old showers in <i>my</i> time,” remarked the man
- in the waggon, picking up his reins. “But”—a crackling explosion
- interrupted him—-“this is sartinly the king of old lingers.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He larruped his horse around the corner into the shed, for the big trees
- were beginning to twist and moan and the big drops to lash the dust.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXIV—THE CREDIT SHEET, AFTER THE LOOK
- </h2>
- <h3>
- AND THE WILLARD FAMILIES STRIKE THEIR BALANCES
- </h3>
- <p class="indent15">
- If we could write upon his gravestun’s face
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- A list of what he’d done to help this place,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- We’d have a roll of honour to his fame,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- But we should publish all our village shame.
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- There’d be a list of heirs and all their fights;
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- The sorrows and the heart-aches over rights;
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- There’d be the frowns, the snarls, the sneers and scorn
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Out of the leavin’s of our dead men born.
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- There’d be the threats and mutt’rin’s of divorce
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And all the griefs that spring from Trouble’s source.
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- ‘Twas better that this calendar was crossed
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- With note:—“By order of J. Brown nol pressed.”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hat’s how it’s
- been with her ever sence she come to,” said Mrs. Arad Tolman, with a jab
- of her head toward the closed door of an inner room. There were moanings
- and cries on the other side of the door as incoherent as the laments of an
- animal in distress.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Tolman was busy over a brew of herbs that simmered in a little
- saucepan on the Kleber Willard cook stove. Ranged around the kitchen walls
- sat men and women. Some of the folks in the yard had hurried home when the
- tempest broke. Others had taken shelter in the house, making the storm an
- excuse for their curiosity.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sylvene and the Squire is doin’ what they can with her,” went on Mrs.
- Tolman, stirring at the brew, “but she is in a turrible to-do, now I can
- tell you! She don’t seem to mind the tunk on her head. That ain’t’ her
- lamentation. But the way she’s takin’ on about them childern is enough to
- melt a heart of stone. It was the first thing she began dingin’ away about
- when she come to—just as if she smelt trouble in the air.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “What’s been told her about the childern?” inquired Marriner Amazeen,
- gazing at the closed door with pity on his seamed face.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Only that they’ve been took care of at the neighbour’s till mornin’. But
- you can’t stuff that excuse down a mother’s thro’t. Talkin’ and tellin’
- don’t fool ’em.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “They’ve gone to Kingdom Come in that old dory, along with the Judge, and
- she senses it,” said Uncle Buck, from his corner. “Them sensin’s is
- mysterious, but they’re so.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The lightnings were now fluttering in far-flung sheets that lit up the
- kitchen windows palely. The worst of the tempest was over. But the wind
- bellowed without and the rain sprayed fiercely upon the dripping panes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “First it’s the childern and then it’s whiff over and a-takin’ on about
- Klebe—‘poor, darlin’ Klebe,’ she calls him, ‘out there in the storm
- and the rain.’ Well, I’d poor darlin’ a man o’ mine that fetched me a clip
- like that and then run away.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Howsomever, Myry’s allus been quite a nagger—quite a nagger at
- usyal times,” observed Uncle Buck, with mild reproof. “She prob’ly
- realises now, when her eyes is open by her trouble, that a man can’t be
- hectored only about so fur.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Several men in the kitchen looked at their wives with significance in
- their gaze.
- </p>
- <p>
- A woman was beginning a dissertation on her views of the marriage
- situation when there came a beating of wet feet on the stoop without, and
- a man trudged in, soggy and dripping. The blast threw a fistful of water
- at his back as he slammed the door behind him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “They’ve got Klebe,” he announced briefly, standing close to the stove.
- “How’s the woman?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “’Tain’t the outside of her head now—it’s the inside of her
- heart that’s ailin’,” said Mrs. Tolman. “She wants her childern and her
- husband, spite of what he’s done to her.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “They caught him up in the Bunganuck woods,” explained the man, replying
- to rapid questions. “Purday took him and done a good job at it. And the
- whole pack and possy of ’em was draggleder’n wet mushrats. They’re
- dryin’ Klebe off down in the s’lectmen’s office now, and I reckon they’ll
- keep him here to-night and take him to jail ter-morrer.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Has he been told about the children?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yas, had to tell him. He’s been fightin’ like a cattymaran ever since he
- was took, and Purday got tuckered out and told him so’s to break his
- sperit. And it done it quick, now, I can tell ye!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Northin’ from outside?” The question was put with a glance seaward and a
- mournful inflection of the voice, as though with certainty of the worst.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Northin’.” The reply was equally mournful.
- </p>
- <p>
- The little group lowered their heads and sat in silence as at a funeral.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the hush the door of the inner room opened, and Squire Phin came into
- the kitchen.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Have you brought news?” he asked anxiously, putting his hand on the
- shoulder of the new arrival.
- </p>
- <p>
- The man repeated his story.
- </p>
- <p>
- While the Squire stood there with head down, pondering, there was a
- commotion in the other room. Again the door opened, and a comely woman
- whose features were twisted by grief and suffering appeared. A cloth was
- wrapped around her forehead, and her lips were swollen from sobbing.
- Though Sylvena Willard strove with all her gentle strength to restrain
- her, the woman tore away and came into the kitchen.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bring me my children,” she cried, staring from one to the other with eyes
- glazed and sunken by woe. “Where’s Klebe? Send him after the children.
- Something has happened. What is it? Don’t drive me mad, neighbours! What
- is it?”
- </p>
- <p>
- Her voice rose in a shriek. She ran first to one man and then to another-,
- clasping her thin hands around their arms. The men were unresponsive and
- embarrassed. Hysteria was upon her.
- </p>
- <p>
- Squire Phin, with his strong hands and his comforting words, was at last
- able to draw her away toward the inner room.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, Phineas Look,” she wailed, “tell me where my babies are.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “They are in God’s hands, child,” he replied, his heart in his tones.
- “Take courage. I am goin’ away now to bring some one. Take courage.”
- </p>
- <p>
- While she stared at him with frightened, puzzled gaze he put her into
- Sylvena Willard’s arms.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Do your best with her, Sylvie, until I come back,” he whispered. “I am
- going to get Kleber. The awful load that has come upon this household is
- one that husband and wife should bear together. Do your best with her,
- little woman! For I shall be gone a bit of a while. I am going to tell
- your brother a story that he needs to hear.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He hurried away.
- </p>
- <p>
- During the long hour that elapsed the stricken woman sat in the kitchen
- close by the outer door, motionless and speechless, her eyes fixed on the
- latch. All of Sylvena’s coaxings could not draw her back to the inner
- room.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Squire came first into the room. Behind him was Captain Kleber
- Willard, and jostling at his back were Deputy Sheriff Purday and his
- helper, alert and officious. They wore the air of officers who knew that
- this method of handling a prisoner was not regular, but who had been
- overmastered by the Squire’s authority. With the group was another man,
- the venerable pastor of the village church, whom they had overtaken making
- his way with a lantern along the tempest-strewn street toward the house of
- mourning.
- </p>
- <p>
- Willard stepped inside the door, his knees bending lifelessly at each
- step, his head wagging low between his shoulders.
- </p>
- <p>
- His bloodshot eyes rolled shamefacedly from countenance to countenance.
- The solemn regard of his neighbours shifted to the worn floor. They had no
- consolation for him. His face began to pucker with the grimace of the
- strong man who is trying to hold back the tears.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Where are our little ones, Kleber?” His wife had thrown herself upon him.
- She screamed the question over and over.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Squire Look—Parson Emmons—some one—oh, for God’s sake—tell
- her!”
- </p>
- <p>
- His sobs choked him. With his arm about his wife he stumbled away to a
- corner of the room, dragging her with him, and while the neighbours sat
- silent and sympathetic, the women sobbing softly, the men grinding their
- rough knuckles into their palms, the husband and the wife, their foreheads
- against the wall, washed away in the first tears they had ever shed in a
- common woe all the wrack of the petty quarrels, the little heart-burnings,
- the frettings and the misunderstandings—all so mean and small in
- this shadow of the mightiest tragedy in their lives.
- </p>
- <p>
- After many, many minutes they were quiet, and clung to each other like
- people in the dark, afraid.
- </p>
- <p>
- Captain Willard trembled until his teeth rattled together. He was nerving
- himself to face the picture of his guilt and his ingratitude—his
- crime! That was it! His crime.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was a picture on which the true light had been shed by Squire Phineas
- Look, whispering to him in a corner of the selectmen’s office.
- </p>
- <p>
- For some minutes the lawyer and the clergyman had been conversing apart in
- an undertone, and now the minister came along to the husband and wife and
- gently drew them away from the corner.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Kleber and Myra,” he said, “it was not many years ago that I stood before
- you in this house in the presence of almost the same neighbours who are
- here now, and I joined your hands in wedlock. I have watched with sorrow
- and disappointment the wretched troubles that have come into your home
- life—needless troubles, foolish troubles. This is not a time for a
- sermon. But it is a time for a friend to speak a word to you. I could have
- said much to you before, but I refrained, for I realised that your hearts
- were stubborn and froward, never having been touched by the softness of
- true love and forbearance. It is the cruel and chastening hand of trouble
- that does it now. I believe that now your home and your hearts are swept
- clean of the anger and pride and selfishness and the little vices that
- ruin homes. I believe that you are now willing to shoulder together the
- awful burden that has been placed upon you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The woman’s face grew white, and she swayed into her husband’s arms.
- Willard stood gasping for his breath.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I married your bodies once before, Kleber and Myra. To-night I am going
- to marry your hearts and your souls, for, God pity you both, you cannot
- stand alone and bear this horror.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The people in the kitchen were too raptly engaged to hear the outside door
- open. The Squire stood in the shadow near it, and a soft “Hist!” engaged
- his attention.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hiram’s head was thrust through the opening. He was bareheaded, his
- clothing was in shreds, and the lamplight shed feeble gleams on a hideous
- black and blue circle around his sound eye.
- </p>
- <p>
- When the Squire advanced on tiptoe Hiram seized his arm, pulled him
- outside and, softly as he had opened it, he closed the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ve got ’em,” he whispered excitedly. “It was a God-awful trip,
- Phin, but I got ’em! It was old Hime for ’em!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You saved them!” gasped his brother.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Sounder’n nuts. But there wa’n’t no time to spare. Old Judge flat on his
- back in the dory and them two little children huddled down side of him
- squealin’ for him to wake up! Heard ’em above the roar of the wind,
- Phin! I guess it was God’s way of leadin’ me to ’em. I’ve got ’em
- waitin’ ’round the corner of the house here. When the old Judge
- come to the second time he was right as a trivet. Didn’t have no idee how
- he happened to be out in that dory. Kind o’ dreamed he was runnin’ away
- from a devil or somethin’ and savin’ the children—and I don’t blame
- him for thinkin’ it was the devil, for that Klebe——”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hush, brother,” said the Squire gently; “there have been strange
- heart-stirrings about here to-day.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “You’re right, Phin,” replied the showman heartily. “I guess mine’s been
- stirred, too. ’Cause when I undertook to thank Nymp’ Bodfish at the
- wharf after we got back for havin’ been so kind and gentlemanly as to take
- me down the bay and save the Judge and the young ones, he drawed off and
- got in one pelt at my eye, and I didn’t chase him nor want to. I tell ye,
- I’ve got jest as good a disposition as any one when I’ve got half a chance
- to show it.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He poked the puffiness under his eye and muttered to himself:
- </p>
- <p>
- “I guess I reelly am gettin’ to be pretty fair-minded, ’cause if
- he’d a-blacked the two of ’em I’m willin’ to acknowledge that he
- wouldn’t have been more’n half square with me for what I’ve done to him.”
- </p>
- <p>
- The suddenness of this news of rescue had dizzied the Squire for a moment,
- but he now pushed his brother toward the corner of the house with a slap
- on the back that made Hiram cringe.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bring them in, Hime! This is your triumph!” He threw open the kitchen
- door with a slam that brought the eyes of all in the kitchen around with a
- startled snap. The minister paused. The father and mother stared in
- affright.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Bring them along, brother!” shouted the Squire joyously. “Here’s Hero
- Hiram Look,” he announced, “and his salvage from the sea!”
- </p>
- <p>
- One child was asleep in the Judge’s arms. The other clung to Hiram’s hand
- and blinked at the light streaming from the open door. The mother screamed
- and would have dashed upon them, but the Squire gently held her back.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Wait, this is a wedding!” he cried. “Hands together this way! God bless
- you and yours. Now, Brother Hime, bring the wedding presents.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I ain’t a very extry lookin’ sight to come to a weddin’,” said the
- showman, “but I didn’t come to your first one, Klebe, and I didn’t send no
- present. All is, I’ve tried to square myself at this second one, and my
- best wishes for everlastin’ happiness goes along with ’em,” he
- added wistfully.
- </p>
- <p>
- He put the sleeping child into the mother’s arms and stood back to let the
- Judge advance toward his son with the light of forgiveness in his eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, father!” wept Kleber, stumbling forward and dragging himself on his
- knees toward the old man. “I didn’t know! I didn’t know until the Squire
- told me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Stand up, my boy,” said the Judge, putting out his trembling hand. “All
- of us know better now, and some knowledge is bought at cruel prices.”
- </p>
- <p>
- It was without a word that Hiram took the hand that Kleber Willard put out
- to him when he turned from his father after a time. But as they stood
- there clinging to each other Hiram leaned forward with a flash of humour
- that relieved the situation, whispering:
- </p>
- <p>
- “That black eye, Klebe, is the dot, period, full stop, set down after the
- very last fight of my whole life, and I got it for your sake.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Come, people!” called the Squire from the doorway. “Come away with me
- now. The wedding is over. The night is getting late and the stars are out
- again.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He smiled across the room at Sylvena as he said it.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then he began with jocular pokings to push the folks out of the door, and
- even subjected Deputy-Sheriff Purday to that treatment when the zealous
- officer came along to have a private word with him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “But look-a-here, Squire,” protested Purday, hanging back, “Klebe is
- really under arrest, you know, and you understand what the law is.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Deputy,” the Squire said, holding him by the arm a moment, “under the
- circumstances the highest law I know of is this: ‘What God hath joined
- together let no man put asunder.’”
- </p>
- <p>
- He pointed to the mother and the father with the children between them.
- </p>
- <p>
- “The grand jury of human hearts returns no indictment. Go home.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He pushed Purday out behind the last straggler and slammed the door and
- bolted it on the inside.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XXV—AQUARIUS WHARFF SEES SOMETHING BESIDES HARD TIMES
- </h2>
- <h3>
- IN THE SUNSET
- </h3>
- <p class="indent15">
- Slowly he passed, for he stopped to pick
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- The stones from the road with his old crook stick.
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- Rolled them left and rolled them right
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- From early morning till late at night.
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- And to wondering folk who paused to ask
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- The reasons that prompted this self-set task
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- He said, with a smile for their doubting gaze,
- </p>
- <p class="indent15">
- “I’m simply helpin’ ye mend your ways!”
- </p>
- <p>
- <br />
- </p>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span>t was August
- again. The flies buzzed lazily in the late afternoon hush, and the
- knife-nicked bench in the shade cast by Asa Brickett’s store had its
- accustomed row of old men, who buzzed in conversation as lazily as the
- flies.
- </p>
- <p>
- “This has been about the tejousest summer I ever put through,” complained
- Uncle Lysimachus Buck, after a yawn. “Ev’rything seems to be deader’n the
- latch on a bulkhead door.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Mebbe it’s because Hime Look has settled up country on the Snell farm,”
- observed Marriner Amazeen with a bit of malice.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Reports is that he’s givin’ ’em a little flavour of circus right
- along in that section,” said Dow Babb.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Feller from that way was tellin’ me that Hime has been doin’ a job of
- breakin’ up with that el’phunt hitched to the plow. Hime allowed as how P.
- T. Barnum tells in his book that he used an el’phunt to plow with, and he
- wa’n’t goin’ to let no P. T.‘s git ahead of <i>him</i>. Ev’ry hoss that
- come along past stuck up ears and tail and tried to climb a tree and pull
- the tree up after. Feller said that one of the neighbours went to Hime
- fin’ly and said that he’d been readin’ in some tormented book erruther
- that in old days the Romans, or some of them old sirs, whoever they be,
- used to sacrifice animiles when there was any good luck had come to ’em
- and they wanted to celebrate account of it. Neighbour hinted that marryin’
- Abby Snell was good enough luck for any man to brag of, and wanted to know
- why Hime didn’t offer Imogene up as a sacrifice. Told Hime the neighbours
- would git up a bee, if he did, and club in with him mighty enthusiastic.”
- </p>
- <p>
- Babb unlocked his legs and chuckled.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Hime spoke up and told the neighbour as how ’twas Imogene that had
- made the match ’tween him and Abby, and that if it come to a choice
- of gittin’ along without the el’phunt or a cook stove Abby’d let the cook
- stove go ev’ry time. Didn’t get much satisfaction out of Hime, now I tell
- ye!”
- </p>
- <p>
- “I donno of any one that ever did,” said Marriner Amazeen.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Cap Nymp’ Bodfish licked him once, time o’ the May gale, there,” stated
- Uncle Buck. “Cap Nymps told me he did.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Say, do you s’pose if he’d ever licked Hime Look he’d a-hid off in the
- woods all next day and then sold the <i>Effort</i> for a song and scooted
- to Hackenny, for all we know of him here?” demanded Amazeen. “No, s’r,
- there was no one ever done Hime Look in this world, except his own brother
- in town meetin’, and then t’was Look eat Look.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Curi’s how things has all come around the last year,” mused Lysimachus.
- “The Squire married to Sylvene and settled in the Willard house and the
- old Judge actin’ as proud of him as——”
- </p>
- <p>
- Brickett interrupted here, coming from the inside of the store, where he
- had been perusing his daily paper.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Why shouldn’t he be proud of him?” he demanded, his thumb on an item, his
- glasses on the end of his nose. “You listen here a minute.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He began to read in a sing-song manner:
- </p>
- <p>
- “A well-founded rumour from the State House is to the effect that the
- Governor has tendered the vacant Supreme Court judgeship to the Hon.
- Phineas Look, of Palermo. Mr. Look’s legal qualifications are too well
- known in this State to need comment. It is understood that he is in no
- sense an active candidate, and the honour has been tendered by the
- Governor to the Palermo man by the Executive’s initiative, the Governor
- following his frequently expressed intention of letting certain
- appointments within his gift seek the man. A Supreme Court judgeship is
- certainly not an office to be hawked among politicians, and such an
- appointment will be a credit to the State and the Bar. Mr. Look is——”
- </p>
- <p>
- Brickett ran his eye down the column.
- </p>
- <p>
- “There’s pretty nigh a whole colume here about him,” he said. “But there
- ain’t any need of readin’ it. It’s matters we’re all knowin’ to about him.
- Papers was lookin’ for somethin’ to fill up with, I persume.”
- </p>
- <p>
- He flopped the sheet.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What I wanted in pertickler to call your attention to,” he went on, “was
- something reel interestin’. It says here that a man has shot himself in a
- New York lodging-house, and from marks on his clothes and his papers it is
- supposed that he is King Bradish, who was at one time well known in
- certain sportin’ quarters. That must be our King Bradish, don’t you s’pose
- so?”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Prob’ly,” said Uncle Buck without great interest. “And I’m glad he done
- it before he’d skun the last cent out of his poor old mother. I guess she
- ain’t got much left, as it is.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, signs and wonders never cease,” sighed Marriner Amazeen, relighting
- his pipe; “as I said when I witnessed Sum Badger’s new will t’other day,”
- he continued between puffs.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Haskell’s girl gits it, does she?” asked Babb.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Yas! Sence ’Caje Dunham whirled ’round and showed some
- signs of bein’ human, Sum found that he was in a class by himself as the
- meanest man in town, and he got jealous of ’Caje.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “It won’t hurt this place none if some of the rest of ’em runs
- races of the same sort,” said Buck.
- </p>
- <p>
- The click of the key in the lock above their heads startled them.
- </p>
- <p>
- Squire Phin was coming down the stairs, shoving the key of his office into
- his trousers.
- </p>
- <p>
- “We’ve jest been list’nin’ to some news about you, Squire,” called one of
- the group on the bench.
- </p>
- <p>
- Squire Phin came around the corner of the stairway, put his hands behind
- his back and smiled at them.
- </p>
- <p>
- “What now, neighbours?” he inquired.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Says here in Ase’s paper that you’re goin’ to be a judge,” replied Buck.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Well, that <i>is</i> news,” said the Squire, and yet with a quizzical
- cock to his eyebrows that indicated that he was in no measure surprised.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Go ’long with you! You knowed it all the time!” snorted Buck.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I always believe in giving my old neighbours all the news I can when they
- want it,” the lawyer said humorously, “for news has been scarce in town
- lately. I’m going to give you something straight now. You will hear this
- before the newspapers do: I have written to the Governor declining that
- honour with grateful thanks.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Won’t be a judge?” queried Amazeen with astonishment,
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’d rather be Phin Look, lawyer,” said the Squire, with a queer little
- glint in his eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’ll bet you ten dollars I know why,” snapped Uncle Buck, with the
- frankness of an old friend. “A man that knows was telling me that all you
- have to do is set up there in your office and rake in money hand over
- fist, sellin’ law to the big corporations. And a Supreme Court judge only
- gits five thousand a year.”
- </p>
- <p>
- His gimlet eye bored the Squire, and a question that his curiosity had
- prompted for a long time popped out of his mouth.
- </p>
- <p>
- “A man what ought to know told me that you was clearin’ fifteen thousand
- dollars a year out of law. Now, Squire, I stump you to say that he lied.
- Did he, or didn’t he?”
- </p>
- <p>
- The lawyer so thoroughly appreciated the character of Uncle Buck that this
- attack was flavoured for him with delicious humour. He came close to the
- old man and put his hands on his hips as he straddled before him.
- </p>
- <p>
- “I’m goin’ to tell you the honest truth, Uncle Lys,” he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- The inquisitor pulled himself forward.
- </p>
- <p>
- “If a man is a Supreme Court judge in this State he must be away from home
- almost three-quarters of his time. Now the straight facts of the case are——”
- </p>
- <p>
- He whirled on his heel and pointed up the street. They all could see the
- gate of the Willard place. A woman was standing there waiting, and against
- her pretty white gown was silhouetted the figure of a shaggy dog.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Now, the straight facts are, Uncle Lys, my wife wants me home every night
- to help water the garden. I’ve coaxed and teased, but she won’t let me be
- a judge.”
- </p>
- <p>
- A pucker of mirth came around his lips.
- </p>
- <p>
- “It’s awful to be bossed around that way by a woman, Uncle Lys.”
- </p>
- <p>
- “Oh, you darnation fool!” snorted the old man, making a swipe at the
- lawyer with his cane.
- </p>
- <p>
- Squire Phin dodged in mock terror and went away laughing.
- </p>
- <p>
- Uncle Aquarius Wharff had come up and taken his favourite position on the
- platform to study the evening skies.
- </p>
- <p>
- “How is it looking to-night?” asked the lawyer, kindly humouring the old
- man’s vagary.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Clouds is master fine things with the sun-fire behind ’em, ain’t
- they, Squire?” returned Uncle Wharff. “Look at ’em, all splattered
- with colours that the cherubim has been busy all day a-mixin’ so’s to have
- ‘em ready for the sunset time. Blazin’ with glory, that’s what they be!
- Seems as if you could jump off’n Witch-Run Hill straight into the
- hereafter. Sometimes it has seemed to me that p’raps the angels do open
- the gates once in a while at sunset time jest to see if they are well ’iled
- ag’inst the Gre’t Day of the Hereafter. It’s a spankin’ fine prospect out
- there now, Squire. You take that mixtur’ of gold and roses and all them
- colours that make your heart feel swelly inside, and it means settled
- weather for a long time to come, Squire, for a long time to come!”
- </p>
- <p>
- The lawyer patted the shoulder of the old man’s sun-faded coat.
- </p>
- <p>
- “God bless you for a prophet, Uncle Aquarius,” he said gently.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then he stepped off the platform and started up the street, waving a
- greeting to the white figure at the gate. She came to meet him, with
- shining eyes, and they went in hand in hand.
- </p>
- <h3>
- THE END
- </h3>
- <div style="height: 6em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-<pre>
-
-
-
-
-
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