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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/5953.txt b/5953.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dd50050 --- /dev/null +++ b/5953.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7078 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Many Kingdoms, by Elizabeth Jordan + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Many Kingdoms + +Author: Elizabeth Jordan + +Posting Date: May 12, 2013 [EBook #5953] +Release Date: June, 2004 +First Posted: September 29, 2002 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MANY KINGDOMS *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + + + + + + + + MANY KINGDOMS + + BY + + ELIZABETH JORDAN + + AUTHOR OF + "May Iverson--Her Book" + "Tales of the Cloister" + "Tales of Destiny" + Etc. Etc. + + + + ... _"The state of man, + Like to a little kingdom, suffers then + The nature of an insurrection."_ + + --SHAKESPEARE. + + + + MCMVIII + + + + + CONTENTS + + CHAP. + + I. VARICK'S LADY O' DREAMS + II. THE EXORCISM OF LILY BELL + III. HER LAST DAY + IV. THE SIMPLE LIFE OF GENEVIEVE MAUD + V. HIS BOY + VI. THE COMMUNITY'S SUNBEAM + VII. IN MEMORY OF HANNAH'S LAUGH + VIII. THE QUEST OF AUNT NANCY + IX. THE HENRY SMITHS' HONEYMOON + X. THE CASE OF KATRINA + XI. BART HARRINGTON, GENIUS + + + + +I + +VARICK'S LADY O' DREAMS + + +Varick laid down the book with which he had beguiled an hour of the +night, turned off the electric light in the shaded globe that hung +above his head, pulled the sheets a little nearer his chin, reversed +his pillow that he might rest his cheek more gratefully on the cooler +linen, stretched, yawned, and composed himself to slumber with an +absolutely untroubled conscience. + +He was an eminently practical and almost rudely healthy young man, with +an unreflecting belief in the existence of things he had seen, and +considerable doubt concerning those which he had not seen. In his heart +he regarded sentiment as the expression of a flabby nature in a feeble +body. Once or twice he had casually redressing-case, with its array of +silver toilet articles, the solid front of his chiffonnier, the carved +arms of his favorite lounging-chair, even the etchings and prints on +the walls. Suddenly, as he looked at these familiar objects, a light +haze fell over them, giving him for an instant the impression that a +gauze curtain had been dropped between them and his eyes. They slowly +melted away, and in their place he saw the streets of a tiny village in +some foreign country which he did not know. A moment later, in what +seemed at the time a perfectly natural transition from his bed in an +Adirondack club-house, he was walking up the streets of the little +town, in correct tourist attire, looking in vain for a familiar +landmark, and with a strange sinking of the heart. How he got there, or +why he was there, was equally incomprehensible to him. It was high noon +of a warm summer day, and the red roofs of the old buildings seemed to +glow in the heat. Before him, at the end of the street down which he +was walking, was a public square where marketing was going on in the +open. It was crowded with men and women in picturesque peasant costumes +he did not recognize, though he had travelled a great deal. As he drew +nearer he heard them speaking, but discovered that their tongue was as +unknown to him as their garb. He knew French, German, and Italian well; +he had, in addition, a smattering of Spanish, and was familiar with the +accents of Slavic tongues. But this babel that met his ears was +something new. Taken in connection with the rest of the experience, the +discovery sent a cold chill down the spinal column of Mr. Lawrence +Varick. For the first time in his debonair life he was afraid, and +admitted it inwardly, with a sudden whitening of the lips. + +"It's so infernally queer," he told himself, uneasily. "If I could +remember how I got here, or if I knew anything about the place--" + +"Have you classified them?" asked a voice at his elbow. It was +feminine, contralto, and exquisitely modulated. The words were English, +but spoken with a slight foreign accent. With a leap of the heart +Varick turned and looked at the speaker. + +She was young, he saw at once--twenty-two, twenty-three, possibly +twenty-four. He inclined to the last theory as he observed her perfect +poise and self-possession. She was exquisitely dressed; he realized +that despite the dimness of masculine perception on such points, and, +much more clearly, saw that she was beautiful. She was small, and the +eyes she raised to his were large and deeply brown, with long black +lashes that matched in color the wavy hair under her coquettish hat. As +he stared at her, with surprise, relief, and admiration struggling in +his boyishly handsome face, she smiled, and in that instant the +phlegmatic young man experienced a new sensation. His own white teeth +flashed as he smiled back at her. Then he remembered that it was +necessary to reply to her question. + +"I--I--beg your pardon," he stammered, "a--a thousand times. But to +tell you the truth, I'm--I'm horribly confused this morning. I--I don't +seem, somehow, to place myself yet. And I can't understand what these +people say. So, when you spoke English it was such a relief--" + +He stopped suddenly and turned a rich crimson. It had occurred to him +that this incoherent statement was not quite the one to win interest +and admiration from a strange and exceedingly attractive woman. What +would she think of him? Perhaps that he was intoxicated, or insane. +Varick's imagination, never lively, distinguished itself during the +next few seconds by the stirring possibilities it presented to his +mind. He grew redder, which was very unfortunate, and shuffled +miserably from one foot to the other, until he noticed that she was +looking at him with a glance that was entirely dignified yet very +friendly. It had an oddly sympathetic quality in it as well. His +spirits rose a trifle. + +"You must think me an awful duffer," he murmured, contritely. "I'm not +always like this, I assure you." + +"I know," she assented. "I understand. Walk on with me. Possibly I may +be able to help you." + +He bowed assent and the two walked toward the crowded square. + +"You're awfully good," he said, feeling reassured, yet still boyish and +embarrassed. "I don't want to be a nuisance, but if you'll just put me +right, somehow--start me on a path that will lead me home--" + +The entire idiocy of this struck him. He stopped again, then burst into +his contagious, youthful laughter, in which she instantly joined. The +mellow contralto and the clear tenor formed a soft and pleasant duet, +but Varick noticed that not a head in the crowd around them turned +their way, nor did an eye of all the peasant throng give them a glance. +He spoke of this to his companion as they continued their walk. + +"The most surprising thing to me in all this--unusualness," he said, +"is the cool manner in which these beggars ignore us. You know how such +people gape, usually; but not a soul among all these people seems to +know we're here." + +She looked at him with a gentle amusement and sympathy in her brown +eyes. + +"That is not surprising," she said, quietly. "For, you know, we are not +here--really." + +Varick stopped for the second time and stared at her, with a repetition +of that new and annoying sinking in the region of his heart. Her words +were certainly disconcerting, but she herself was delightfully human +and most reassuringly natural. She had walked on, and he tried to fall +into her mood as he overtook her. + +"Where are we, then?" he asked, with a short and not especially +mirthful laugh. + +Her smooth brow wrinkled for a moment. + +"I do not know," she said, frankly. "That is, I do not know this place, +where we _think_ we are, though I have been here before, and the +experience does not frighten me now. But I know where we _really_ are. +You are asleep somewhere in America, and I--but oh, my dear, my dear, +you're going to wake!" + +The clock that was somewhere struck three. Varick, sitting up in his +bed with eyes staring into the darkness, saw again his familiar room, +the dim light, the silver, the dressing-case, the pictures. He sprang +to the door opening into the hall, and tried it. It was bolted, as he +had left it. So was the other door leading into his sitting-room. The +darkness around him still seemed full of the refrain of the words he +had just heard--where? + +_"Oh, my dear, my dear, you're going to wake!"_ And her eyes--her +smile-- + +Varick got into bed again, in a somewhat dazed condition, with a tremor +running through it. Very slowly he straightened himself out, very +slowly he pulled up the bedclothes. Then he swore solemnly into the +obscurity of the room. + +"Well, of--all--the--dreams!" he commented, helplessly. + +As the months passed, after Varick got back to town and into the whirl +of city life, he recalled his dream, frequently at first, then more +rarely, and finally not at all. It was almost a year later when, one +night, lying half awake, he saw again the fine, transparent, +screen-like veil enshroud the objects in his bedroom. It was winter, +and a great log was burning in the large fireplace. He had tried to +choke the flames with ashes before he went to bed, but the wood had +blazed up again and he had lain quiet, awaiting slumber and blinking +indifferently at the light. His bedroom overlooked Fifth Avenue. There +was a large club-house just opposite his house, and cabs and carriages +still came and went. Varick heard the slam of carriage doors, the click +of horses' hoofs on the wet asphalt, and congratulated himself on the +common-sense which had inspired him to go to bed at eleven instead of +joining the festive throng across the street. He had dutifully spent +the morning in his father's offices, and then, with a warming sense of +virtue, had run out of town for a late luncheon and a trial of hunters. +To-night he was pleasantly tired, but not drowsy. When the curtain fell +before his surroundings, and he saw them melting imperceptibly into +others quite foreign to them, he at once recalled the similar +experience of the year before. With a little quickening of his steady +heart-beats, he awaited developments. + +Yes, here was the old town, with its red roofs, its quaint +architecture, its crowded, narrow, picturesque streets. But this time +they seemed almost deserted, and the whole effect of the place was +bleak and dreary. The leaves had dropped from the trees, the flowers +had faded, the vines that covered the cottage walls were brown and +bare. He was pleasantly conscious of the warmth of a sable-lined coat +he had brought from Russia two years before. He thrust his gloved hands +deep into its capacious pockets and walked on, his eyes turning to +right and left as he went. At intervals he saw a bulky masculine +figure, queerly dressed, turn a corner or enter a house. Once or twice +one came his way and passed him, but no one looked at him or spoke. For +a moment Varick was tempted to knock at one of the inhospitably closed +doors and ask for information and directions, but something--he did not +know what--restrained him. + +When she appeared it was as suddenly as she had come before, with no +warning, no approach. She was at his elbow--a bewitching thing of furs +and feminine beauty, French millinery and cordiality. She held out her +small hand with a fine _camaraderie_. + +"Is it not nice?" she asked at once. "I was afraid I should arrive +first and have to wait alone. I would not have liked that." + +He held her hand close, looking down at her from his great height, his +gray eyes shining into hers. + +"Then you knew--you were coming?" he asked, slowly. + +"Not until the moment before I came. But when I saw the curtain fall--" + +"You saw that, too? A thin, gauzy thing, like a transparency?" + +"Yes." + +He relapsed into silence for a moment, as he unconsciously adapted his +stride to hers, and they walked on together as naturally as if it were +an every-day occurrence. + +"What do you make of it all?" he at length asked. + +She shrugged her shoulders with a little foreign gesture which seemed +to him, even then, very characteristic. + +"I do not know. It frightened me--a little--at first. Now it does not, +for it always ends and I awake--at home." + +"Where is that?" + +She hesitated. + +"I may not tell you," she said, slowly. "I do not quite know why, but I +may not. Possibly you may know some time. You, I think, are an +American." + +He stared hard at her, his smooth face taking on a strangely solemn +expression. + +"You mean to say," he persisted, "that this is all a dream--that you +and I, instead of being here, are really asleep somewhere, on different +continents?" + +She nodded. + +"We are asleep," she said, "on different continents, as you say. +Whether we are dreaming or whether our two souls are taking a little +excursion through space--oh, who shall say? Who can question the +wonderful things which happen in this most wonderful world? I have +ceased to question, but I have also ceased to fear." + +He made no reply. Somewhere, in the back of his head, lay fear--a very +definite, paralyzing fear--that something was wrong with him or with +her or with them both. Instead of being in the neutral border-land of +dreams, had he not perhaps passed the tragic line dividing the normal +mind from the insane? She seemed to read his thoughts, and her manner +became more gentle, almost tender. + +"Is it so very dreadful?" she asked, softly. "We are together, you +know, my friend. Would it not be worse to wander about alone?" + +With a great effort he pulled himself together. + +"Infinitely," he said, with gratifying conviction. "And you're--you're +a trump, you know. I'm ashamed of acting like such a boor. If you'll +bear with me I'll try from now on to be more like a man and less like a +fretful ghost." + +She clapped her hands. + +"Capital!" she cried. "I knew you would--what is the word?--oh +yes--_adapt_ yourself. And it is only for a little while. You will wake +very soon. But you ought to enjoy it while it lasts. There are many +amusing things about it all." + +Varick reflected grimly that it was the "amusing things" which +occasioned his perturbation, but he kept his reflection to himself and +smiled down at her sunnily. + +"For example," she continued, "as we really do not exist here, and as +we are not visible to these people, we cannot do anything that will +affect them in any way or attract their attention. Look at that!" + +They were passing a small house whose front door, opening on the +street, stood ajar. Within they could see a stout woman standing at a +tub and washing busily, and a little girl pouring hot water from a +quaint kettle into a large pan full of soiled blue dishes. The pan +stood near the edge of a wooden table, and the little girl was perched +on a stool just high enough to bring her on a level with her work. + +"You are, I am sure, a fine athlete," murmured the woman. "Or else your +looks belie you," she added, with a roguish upward glance. "Yet with +all your strength you cannot push that pan of dishes off the table." + +Without a word, Varick passed through the doorway, strode into the +house and up to the table. She followed him closely. He attempted to +seize the pan in his powerful hands--and, to his horror, discovered +that they held nothing. The pan remained on the table and the child was +now unconcernedly washing the blue dishes, humming a little folk-song +as she worked. As if to add to the irony of the situation, the small +laborer quietly lifted the pan and moved it to a position she thought +more convenient. This was the last touch. With a stifled murmur of +intense exasperation, Varick put forth all his strength in a supreme +effort. The pan fell, the water and broken blue dishes covering the +floor. He sprang back and stood aghast, gazing at the havoc he had +wrought. + +"Oh, dear! oh, dear!" murmured the voice at his side. "I never dreamed +you could do it, or I would not have suggested it. Oh, oh, the poor +little darling!" + +For the stout woman at the tub had hastily dropped her work, crossed +the room, and was soundly chastising the unhappy infant who she +supposed was responsible for the mischief. Varick caught her arm. + +"Oh, I say," he cried, "this won't do at all! She didn't do it; it was +all my fault. I'll pay for the things. Here--here--" + +He fumbled in his pockets as he spoke and pulled out several gold +pieces. But the fat arm of the old woman offered no resistance to his +grasp, and the gold pieces did not exist for her. It was evident that +she saw neither him nor them, nor the woman with him. With an unsparing +hand she spanked the child, whose voice rose in shrill lamentations. +Varick and his companion in guilt crept out of the room with a sense of +great helplessness upon them, and he breathed a long breath of relief +at finding himself--in bed, with a cold February sun shining in through +his windows, and the faithful Parker at his side with the quieting +announcement that his bath was ready. + +One of Varick's boon companions in camp and hunting excursions was a +distinguished New York specialist in nervous diseases. A day or two +later Varick found it convenient to drop into this man's office and, +quite casually, tell him the story of his dreams, giving it various +light touches that he fondly imagined concealed the anxiety that lay +beneath the recital. "Recurrent dreams," he then learned, were a very +common human experience and not deserving of much attention. + +"Don't think about it," said his friend. "Of course, if you worry over +it, you'll be dreaming it all the time. Send this 'personally conducted +tour' to me if you don't like it. I don't mind meeting pretty women who +are 'dreams,' whether in the flesh or out of it." + +As time went on and the dream did not return, Varick decided that he +would not mind, either. He thought of her a great deal; he even longed +for her. Eventually he deliberately tried to induce the dream by going +to bed early, putting himself in the proper mental attitude, as he +conceived it, and staring wide-eyed into his dimly lighted room. But +only once in eighteen months was he even partly successful. Then he saw +the haze, saw the familiar streets, saw her far, far ahead of him, and +hurrying onward, saw her turn a sharp corner, caught one backward look +from her dear brown eyes as she vanished--and awoke! He gave much +thought to that look in the months which followed. He was a modest +youth, singularly unconscious of his own charms; but the eloquent +glance had conveyed to him a sense of longing--of more than longing. + +Quite an interval elapsed before she came again. There was, first of +all, the inevitable filmy effect, but, in the vision that succeeded it, +instead of finding himself in the little town, he was in the depths of +a great old forest, and in horrible agony. Some accident had +occurred--he did not know what. He only knew that he was shot, +suffering, dying! He groaned, and even as he writhed in a spasm of pain +he saw her sitting on the sward beside him. He turned glazed eyes on +her. Her brown ones looked back into his with a great love and pity in +their depths. + +"Oh, my dear," she whispered, "I know it seems terribly hard to you. +And because you think you suffer, it is almost as hard for you as if +you did. But you are not really hurt, you know. You are not suffering. +It is all in the dream. You are sound asleep, far, far away." + +He forced a sardonic laugh from his stiff throat. + +"Not this time," he managed to articulate. "Whatever the others may +have been, this is no dream. This is the real thing--and death!" + +She smoothed the hair back from his damp brow with a beautiful, +caressing touch. He felt her fingers tremble. + +"No," she said. "It is a dream, and almost over." + +"Then will you stay with me," he gasped, "to the end?" + +"Yes," she promised. "Try to bear it just a moment longer. Courage, +dear heart! for already you are waking--you are +waking--_you--are--awake!_" + +He was, and it was daylight, and around him were the familiar objects +of his own room. He wiped his forehead, which was cold and wet. He felt +utterly exhausted. + +"Stay with me to the end!" + +If she only would! If he could find her--find her in this warm, human +world, away from that ghastly border-land where they two met. For in +that hour he knew he loved--what? A woman or a ghost? A creature of +this world or a fantasy of the night? Wherever she was, whatever she +was, he loved her and he wanted her. And in that hour of his agony her +eyes had told that she loved and wanted him. + +It was eight months before they met again. Varick's friends thought him +changed, and quite possibly he was. The insouciant boy of twenty-eight +had become a man, a sympathetic, serious, thoughtful man, still given +to sports and outdoor life, but more than all devoted to a search which +had taken him to no end of out-of-the-way European towns. He was +sleeping in one of these one night (not _the_ one, alas!--he had not +found that) when the veil, now so warmly welcome, fell for the fourth +time. + +He was in an exquisite Italian garden, a place all perfume and May +breezes and flooding sunshine and overarching blue sky. As he entered +it he saw her coming to meet him, and he went forward to greet her with +his pulses bounding and a light in his eyes which no eyes but hers had +ever seen there. Even in that supreme moment the wonderfully _real_ +atmosphere of it all impressed him. He heard a dry twig crack under his +foot as he walked, and he recognized the different perfumes of the +flowers around him--the heavy sweetness of a few belated orange +blossoms, the delicate breath of the oleander, the reminiscent perfume +of the rose. Then their hands met and their eyes, and each drew a long +breath, and neither spoke for a moment. When Varick found words they +were very commonplace. + +"Oh, my love, my love!" he said. And she, listening to them with sudden +tears in her brown eyes, seemed to find in them the utmost eloquence of +the human tongue. + +"It has been so long, so long!" he gasped. "I began to think I was +never to see you again." + +They drifted side by side along a winding, rose-hedged path, past an +old sun-dial, past a triumphant peacock strutting before his mild +little mate, past a fountain whose spray flung out to them a welcome. +She led the way with the accustomed step of one who knew and loved the +place. They came to a marble seat, half hidden by a tangle of vines and +scarlet blossoms, and sheltered by overhanging oleander branches; there +she sat down and moved her skirts aside that he might sit close to her. +Her brown eyes, raised now to his hungry gray ones, looked at him with +the softened brilliance he had sometimes seen in those of a happy child. + +"Should you have missed me," she asked, softly, "if you had never seen +me again? Should you have been sorry?" + +He drew a long breath. + +"I love you," he said. "Whatever you are, wherever you come from, +whatever all this means, I love you. I don't understand anything else, +but I know that. It's the one sure thing, the one real thing, in all +this tangle." + +Without a word she put her hand in his. He could feel distinctly its +cool, soft, exquisite texture. With an exclamation of delight he drew +her toward him, but she held herself away, the expression of her +beautiful face softening the effect of the recoil. + +"Not yet, dear," she said, gently. "We must be very careful. You do not +understand. If you do anything abrupt or sudden you will wake--and then +we shall be parted again, who knows for how long!" + +There were tears in her eyes as she spoke. Seeing them, he buried his +face in his hands and groaned, while the sense of his utter +helplessness rolled over him like a flood. + +"God!" he broke out, with sudden fierceness. "What devil's trick is +this? It's not a dream. It can't be a dream. Here we are, two human +beings in a human world--I'll swear it. Smell that oleander. Listen to +that bird sing. Hear the trickle of that fountain. And yet you tell me +that we are asleep!" + +She laid her head in the curve of her arm, resting on the ivy-covered +back of the low seat. Bending over her, he saw that her cheeks were +wet. The sight made him desperate. + +"Don't!" he cried, hoarsely. "Don't do that! Tell me what is expected +of me. Whatever it is, no matter how hard it is, or how long it takes, +I'll do it." + +She did not reply, but she made a quick little gesture with the hand +nearest him. It signified hopelessness, almost despair. Darkness began +to fall, and an early moon hung pale in the heavens. Somewhere in the +thick bushes near them a nightingale began to sing. To Varick's excited +fancy there was a heart-breaking pathos in the soft notes. They seemed +to have been together, he and she, for a long time--for hours. He bent +his head till it touched hers. + +"But you love me?" he asked. She moved a little and wiped her eyes with +an absurdly tiny, lace-edged square of linen. One corner, he noticed, +bore an embroidered coronet. + +"Yes," she said, very quietly, "I love you." + +Her tone as she spoke expressed such entire hopelessness that the full +sense of her words did not at once come to him. When it did, slowly, +sweetly, she was speaking again. + +"But oh, dearest, dearest!" she broke out, "why do we love? To what can +love lead us--two poor shadows in a dream world, in which alone we can +meet?" + +He was silent. There seemed, somehow, nothing that he could say, though +later he thought of many words with which he might have filled that +throbbing silence. The dusk deepened around them. Off in the thicket +the nightingale still warbled passionately, and now the stars began to +come out over their heads, pale as yet against the warm blue of the +heavens. Varick, sitting stiffly on the old marble bench, became +conscious of an odd dizziness, and set his teeth with a sudden +determination to show no evidence of it. She had risen and was moving +about among the rose-bushes just behind them. Almost before he missed +her she had returned, holding in her hand a beautiful salmon-hued rose, +with a flame-colored, crumply heart. He had never before seen one like +it. As she held it near him it exhaled an exquisitely reminiscent +perfume--a perfume which seemed to breathe of old joys, old memories, +and loves of long ago. + +"Is it not beautiful?" she said. "It is called the _Toinnette_. Take +it, dear, and keep it--for memory." Then, as he took it from her, her +eyes widened in a sudden anguish of dread and comprehension. + +"Oh, you're leaving me!" she said. "You're waking. Dearest, dearest, +stay with me!" + +The words and the look that accompanied them galvanized him into sudden +action. He sprang to his feet, caught her in his arms, held her there, +crushed her there, kissing her eyes, her hair, her exquisitely soft +mouth. + +"I will not leave you!" he raved. "I swear I won't! I defy the devil +that's back of this! I swear--" But she, too, was speaking now, and her +words came to his ears as from a long, long distance, sobbingly, with a +catch in the breath, but distinct. + +"Alas!" she cried, "you have ruined everything! You have ruined +everything! You will never see me again. Dearest, dearest--" + +He awoke. His heart was thumping to suffocation, and he lay exhausted +on his pillow. It was a dark morning, and a cold rain beat dismally +against the window-panes. Gone were the Dream Woman, the Italian +garden, the song of the nightingale, the perfume of flowers. How +definite that perfume had been! He could smell it yet, all around him. +It was like--what was it like? He became suddenly conscious of an +unusual sensation in his hand, lying on the bedspread. He glanced at it +and then sat up with a sudden jerk that almost threw him off his +balance. In his upturned palm was a rose--a salmon-colored rose, +slightly crushed, but fresh and fragrant, with a flame-colored, crumply +heart. Varick stared at it, shut his eyes, opened them, and stared +again. It was still there, and, with the discovery that it was, Varick +became conscious of a prickling of the scalp, a chill along the spine. +His brown face whitened. + +"Well, by all the gods!" he gasped. "How did that thing get here?" + +No one ever told him. Possibly no one could except the Dream Woman, and +her he never saw again; so the mystery was unfathomable. He put the +rose between the leaves of the Bible his mother had given him when he +went to college, and which he had not opened since until that morning; +and the rose became dry and faded as the years passed, quite as any +other rose would have done. + +Varick paid a second and quite casual visit to his medical friend, who +scoffed at him rudely and urged him to go on a long hunting trip. He +went, and was singularly successful, and came back with considerable +big game and a rich, brown complexion. When the doctor asked him +whether he still awoke from his innocent slumbers to find his little +hands full of pretty flowers, Varick swore naturally and healthfully, +turned very red, and playfully thumped the medical man between the +shoulders with a force that sent that gentleman's eye-glasses off his +nose. But, notwithstanding all these reassuring incidents, Varick has +never married; and he remains deeply interested as to the source of +that rose. He would be very grateful to any one who could tell him +where the thing came from. The nearest he ever came to this was when a +man who knew a good deal about flowers once inspected the faded rose, +at Varick's request, and listened to the description of how it looked +when fresh. + +"Why, yes," he said, "I know that variety. It grows in Italy, but I +don't think it's known here. They call it the _Toinnette!_" + + + + +II + +THE EXORCISM OF LILY BELL + + +It is quite possible that not even Raymond Mortimer Prescott himself +could have told definitely the day or the hour when Lily Bell first +came into his life; and as Raymond Mortimer Prescott was not only the +sole person privileged to enjoy Miss Bell's society, but was also the +sole person who had been permitted to gaze upon her charms at all, it +would seem that inquiries directed elsewhere were destined to prove +fruitless. Raymond himself, moreover, was not communicative; he had the +reserve of an only child whose early efforts at conversation had been +discouraged by parents selfishly absorbed in "grown-up" interests, and +whose home was too remote from other country homes to attract playmates. + +His mother was a nervous invalid, and almost in infancy Raymond had +grasped the fact that his absence seemed to be of more definite benefit +to her than any other remedy for neurasthenia. His father was a busy +man, absent from home for weeks at a time, and bearing this exile with +a jovial cheerfulness which did not always characterize his moods when +he deigned to join the family circle. Occasionally the elder Prescott +experienced a twinge of conscience when he looked at his son, ten years +of age now, the possessor of a superbly healthy body and presumably of +the social aspirations of growing Americans. In such moments of +illumination the father reflected uneasily that "the little beggar must +have a beastly lonesome time of it"; then, surveying the little +beggar's choice company of pets, gazing upon the dam he had built with +his own busy hands, inspecting approvingly his prowess in the +swimming-hole and with his fish-rods, even noting, in his conscientious +appraisal of his heir's assets, the self-assertive quality of the +freckles on his nose and the sunburn on the whole of his visage, this +perfunctory American parent easily decided that nothing need be changed +for another year or two. It was impossible even for a scrupulous +conscience to make a youthful martyr of Raymond Mortimer. Not the most +rabid New England brand could compass that, and certainly Raymond +Mortimer Prescott, Sr., had no such possession. The housekeeper, Miss +Greene, a former trained nurse who had charge of the boy in infancy, +looked after his clothes and his meals. Notwithstanding his steadfast +elusiveness, she had also succeeded in making him master of extremely +elementary knowledge of letters and figures. Beyond this he was +arrogantly ignorant, even to the point of being ignorant of his +ignorance. He had his dogs, his rods and tackle, his tool-house, +unlimited fresh air, sunshine, and perfect health; in addition he had +Lily Bell. + +How long he may have enjoyed the pleasure of this young person's +company unobserved by his elders is a matter of surmise; it may well +have been a long time, for family curiosity never concerned itself with +Raymond Mortimer unless he was annoyingly obtrusive or disobedient. But +the first domestic records of her arrival, kept naturally enough by +Miss Greene, whose lonely spinster heart was the boy's domestic refuge, +went back to a day in June when he was five. He was in his nursery and +she in an adjoining room, the communicating door of which was open. She +had heard him in the nursery talking to himself, as she supposed, for a +long time. At last his voice took on a note of childish irritation, and +she distinctly heard his words. + +"But it won't be right that way," he was saying, earnestly. "Don't you +see it won't be right that way? There won't be nothing to hold up the +top." + +There was a long silence, in the midst of which Miss Greene stole +cautiously to the nursery door and looked in. The boy was on his knees +on the floor, an ambitious structure of blocks before him, which he had +evidently drawn back to contemplate. His eyes were turned from it, +however, and his head was bent a little to the left. He wore a look of +great attention and annoyance. He seemed to be listening to a prolonged +argument. + +"All right," he said, at last. "I'll do it. But it ain't right, and +you'll be sorry when you see it fall." He hurriedly rearranged the +block structure, adding to the tremulously soaring tower on the left +side. True to his prediction, it fell with a crash, destroying other +parts of the edifice in its downfall. The boy turned on his unseen +companion a face in which triumph and disgust were equally blended. +"There, now!" he taunted; "didn't I tell you so, Lily Bell? But you +never will b'lieve what I say--jes like girls!" + +Miss Greene hurriedly withdrew, lifting to the ceiling eyes of awed +surprise. For some reason which she was subsequently unable to explain, +she asked the boy no questions; but she watched him more closely after +this, and discovered that, however remote the date of Miss Bell's first +appearance, she was now firmly established as a daily guest--an honored +one whose influence, though mild, was almost boundless, and whose +gentle behests were usually unhesitatingly obeyed. Occasionally, as in +the instance of the blocks, Raymond Mortimer combated them; once or +twice he disobeyed them. But on the second of these occasions he +drooped mournfully through the day, bearing the look of one adrift in +the universe; and the observant Miss Greene noted that the following +day was a strenuous one, occupied with eager fulfilment of the +unexpressed wishes of Lily Bell, who had evidently returned to his +side. Again and again the child did things he most obviously would have +preferred not to do. The housekeeper looked on with deep but silent +interest until she heard him say, for perhaps the tenth time, "Well, I +don't like it, but I will if you really want me to." Then she spoke, +but so casually that the boy, absorbed in his play, felt nothing +unusual in the question. + +"Whom are you talking to, Raymond?" she asked, as she rounded the heel +of the stocking she was knitting. He replied abstractedly, without +raising his eyes from the work he was doing. + +"To Lily Bell," he said. + +Miss Greene knitted in silence for a moment. Then, "Where is she?" she +asked. + +"Why, she's here!" said the child. "Right beside me!" + +Miss Greene hesitated and took the plunge. "I don't see her," she +remarked, still casually. + +This time the boy raised his head and looked at her. There was in his +face the slight impatience of one who deals with an inferior +understanding. + +"'Course you don't," he said, carelessly. "You can't. No one can't see +Lily Bell but 'cept me." + +Miss Greene felt snubbed, but persevered. + +"She doesn't seem to be playing very nicely to-day," she hazarded. + +He gave her a worried look. + +"She isn't," he conceded, "not very. 'Most always she's very, very +nice, but she's kind of cross to-day. I guess p'r'aps," he speculated, +frankly, "you're 'sturbing her by talking so much." + +Miss Greene accepted the subtle hint and remained silent. From that +time, however, Raymond Mortimer counted on her acceptance of Lily Bell +as a recognized personality, and referred to her freely. + +"Lily Bell wants us to go on a picnic to-morrow," he announced, one day +when he was six. "She says let's go on the island under the willow an' +have egg-san'wiches an' ginger-ale for lunch." + +Miss Greene carried out the programme cheerfully, for the child made +singularly few requests. Thomas, the gardener, was to row them over, +and Miss Greene, a stout person who moved with difficulty, seated +herself in the stem of the boat with a sigh of relief, and drew Raymond +Mortimer down beside her. He wriggled out of her grasp and struggled to +his feet, his stout legs apart, his brown eyes determined. + +"You can't sit there, please, Miss Greene," he said, almost austerely. +"Lily Bell wants to sit there with me. You can take the other seat." + +For once the good-natured Miss Greene rebelled. + +"I'll do no such thing," she announced, firmly, "flopping round and +upsetting the boat and perhaps drowning us all. You and your Lily Bell +can sit together in the middle and let me be." + +An expression of hope flitted across the child's face. "Will that do, +Lily Bell?" he asked, eagerly. The reply was evidently unfavorable, for +his jaw fell and he flushed. "She says it won't," he announced, +miserably. "I'm awful sorry, Miss Greene, but we'll have to 'sturb you." + +If Miss Lily Bell had been in the habit of making such demands, the +housekeeper would have continued to rebel. As it was, she had grave +doubts of the wisdom of establishing such a dangerous precedent as +compliance with the absurd request. But Raymond Mortimer's distress was +so genuine, and the pleasure of the picnic so obviously rested on her +surrender, that she made it, albeit slowly and with groans and dismal +predictions. The boy's face beamed as he thanked her. + +"I was so 'fraid Lily Bell would be cross," he confided to her, as he +sat sedately on his half of the stern-seat. "But she's all right, an' +we're going to have a lovely time." + +That prediction was justified by events, for the occasion was a +brilliant one, and Lily Bell's share in it so persistent and convincing +that at times Miss Greene actually found herself sharing in the +delusion of the little girl's presence. Her good-natured yielding in +the matter of the seat, moreover, had evidently commended her to Miss +Bell's good graces, and that young person brought out the choicest +assortment of her best manners to do honor to the grown-up guest. + +"Lily Bell wants you to have this seat, Miss Greene, 'cause it's in the +shade an' has a nice back," said Raymond, delightedly, almost as soon +as they had reached the island; and Miss Greene flopped into it with a +sigh of content in the realization that Miss Bell did not intend to +usurp all the choice spots, as her persistence earlier in the day might +possibly have suggested to a suspicious mind. There, alternately +reading and dozing, she incidentally listened to the flow of +conversation poured forth by her small charge, varied only by +occasional offerings to her, usually suggested by Miss Bell and ranging +from the minnow he had succeeded in catching with a worm and a bent pin +to the choicest tidbits of the luncheon. There were two glasses for the +ginger-ale. Miss Greene had one and Lily Bell the other. Raymond +Mortimer gallantly drank from the bottle. + +"Why don't you use Lily Bell's glass?" was Miss Greene's very natural +inquiry. It would seem, indeed, that two such congenial souls would +have welcomed the closer union this suggestion invited, but Raymond +Mortimer promptly dispelled that illusion. + +"She doesn't want to," he responded, gloomily. + +In other details, however, Miss Lily Bell was of an engaging sweetness +and of a yielding disposition of the utmost correctness. Again and +again Raymond Mortimer succeeded in convincing her, by the force and +eloquence of his arguments, of the superiority of his ideas on fort +building, fishing, and other occupations which filled the day. Miss +Greene's heart yearned over the boy as he came to her during the +mid-day heat and cuddled down comfortably by her side, heavy-eyed and +tired after his exertions. + +"Where's Lily Bell?" she asked, brushing his damp hair off his forehead +and wondering whether she was also privileged to enjoy the unseen +presence of the guest of honor. + +"She's back there under the tree takin' a nap," murmured the boy, +drowsily, indicating the exact spot with a grimy little hand. "She tol' +me to come an' stay with you for a while." + +Miss Greene smiled, deeply touched by this sweet mingling of coyness +and thoughtfulness on the maiden's part. + +"What does Lily Bell call you?" she asked, with interest. The boy +snuggled down on the grass beside her and rested his head comfortably +in her lap. + +"She knows my name's Raymond Mortimer," he said, sleepily, "but she +calls me 'Bill' for short." Then, more sleepily, "I asked her to," he +added. In another moment his eyelids had dropped and he too was in the +Land of Nod, whither Lily Bell had happily preceded him. + +During the next four years Miss Greene was privileged to spend many +days in the society of Miss Lily Bell, and the acquaintance between +them ripened into a pleasant friendship. To her great satisfaction she +found Miss Bell's name one to conjure with in those moments of friction +which are unavoidable in the relations of old and young. + +"I don't think Lily Bell would like that," she began to say, +tentatively, when differences of opinion as to his conduct came up +between Raymond and herself. "I think _she_ likes a gentlemanly boy." + +Unless her young charge was in a very obstinate mood the reminder +usually prevailed, and it was of immense value in overcoming the early +prejudice of the small boy against soap and water. + +"Isn't Lily Bell clean?" she had inquired one day when he was eight and +the necessity of the daily tubbing was again being emphasized to him. + +Raymond conceded that she was. + +"When she first comes she is," he added. "'Course she gets dirty when +we play. Why, sometimes she gets awful dirty!" + +The excellent and wise woman saw her opportunity, and promptly grasped +it. + +"Ah," she exclaimed, "that's the point. I want you to start out clean +and to go to bed clean. If you'll promise me to take a tub before you +dress in the morning, and another before you go to bed at night, I +don't care how dirty you get in the mean time." + +This happy compromise effected, she was moved to ask more particularly +how Miss Lily Bell looked. She recalled now that she had never heard +her described. Raymond Mortimer, she discovered, was no better than the +rest of his sex when it came to a description of feminine features and +apparel, but on two points his testimony was absolute. Lily Bell had +curls and she wore pantalettes. The last word was not in his +vocabulary, and it was some time before he succeeded in conveying the +correct impression to Miss Greene's mind. + +"Don't you remember the little girls in mamma's old Godey books?" he +asked, at last, very anxiously, seeing that his early imperfect +description had led to an apparent oscillation of Miss Greene's +imagination between the paper ruffle of a lamb-chop and a frilly +sunbonnet. "They have slippers an' 'lastic bands an' scallopy funnels +coming down under their skirts. Well"--this with a long-drawn sigh of +relief as she beamed into acquiescence--"that's how Lily Bell looks!" + +Long before this the family had accepted Lily Bell as a part of the +domestic circle, finding her a fairly trustworthy and convenient +playmate for the boy. Not always, of course; for it was very +inconvenient to leave a vacant seat beside Raymond Mortimer when they +went driving, but this had to be done or Raymond stayed at home rather +than desert his cherished Lily. It was long before his father forgot +the noble rebuke administered by his son on one occasion when the elder +Prescott, thoughtlessly ignoring the presence of Miss Bell, sought to +terminate the argument by sitting down by the boy's side. The shrieks +of that youth, usually so self-contained, rent the ambient air. + +"Father, _father!_" he howled, literally dancing up and down in his +anguish, "you're sitting on Lily Bell!" Then, at the height of the +uproar, he stopped short, an expression of overwhelming relief covering +his face. "Oh no, you ain't, either," he cried, ecstatically. "She +jumped out. But she won't go now, so neither will I"; and he promptly +joined his imaginary playmate in the road. Pausing there, he gave his +abashed parent a glance of indescribable reproach and a helpful hint on +etiquette. + +"Don't you know," he asked, stonily, "that gentlemen don't _never_ sit +on ladies?" Striding gloomily back to the house, presumably close by +the side of the outraged maiden, he left his convulsed parent to +survive as best he could the deprivation of their presence. This Mr. +Prescott did with reluctance. He was beginning to find the society of +his son and Lily Bell both interesting and exhilarating. He showed, in +fact, a surprising understanding of and sympathy with "the +love-affair," as he called it. "The poor little beggar had to have +something," he said, indulgently, "and an imaginary play-mate is as +safe as anything I know." Therefore he referred to Miss Bell +respectfully in conversation with his son, and, save on the tragic +occasion just chronicled, treated her with distinguished consideration. + +His wife's acceptance of the situation was less felicitous. Mrs. +Prescott, whose utter lack of a sense of humor had long saddened her +domestic circle, suddenly felt the birth of one now that was even more +saddening, and the cause of it was Lily Bell. She referred to that +young person wholly without respect, and was convulsed by foolish +laughter when her son soberly replied. The boy resented this +attitude--first sullenly, then fiercely. + +"She acts as if there _wasn't_ really any Lily Bell," he confided to +his father, in a moment of such emotion. "I don't think that's nice or +p'lite, an' it hurts Lily Bell's feelings." + +"That's bad," said the father, soberly. "We mustn't have that. I'll +speak to your mother." + +He did subsequently, and to such good effect that the expression of +Mrs. Prescott's amusement was temporarily checked. But Raymond +Mortimer's confidence was temporarily blighted, and he kept his little +friend and his mother as far apart as possible. Rarely after that did +Lily Bell seek the invalid's room with the boy, though she frequently +accompanied him to his father's library when that gentleman was home +and, presumably, listened with awe to their inspiring conversation. Mr. +Prescott had begun to talk to his boy "as man to man," as he once put +it, and the phrase had so delighted the boy, now ten, that his father +freely gave him the innocent gratification of listening to it often. +Moreover, it helped in certain conversations where questions of morals +came up. As the small son of an irate father, Raymond Mortimer might +not have been much impressed by the parental theory that watermelons +must not be stolen from the patches of their only neighbor, a crusty +old bachelor. As a man of the world, however, listening to the views of +one wiser and more experienced, he was made to see that helping one's +self to the melons of another is really not the sort of thing a decent +chap can do. Lily Bell, too, held the elder man's opinion. + +"She says she doesn't like it, either," the boy confided to his father +with an admiring sigh. "She never would go with me, you know. +My!"--this with a heavier sigh--"I'm 'fraid if I do all the things you +an' Lily Bell want me to I'll be awful good!" + +His father sought to reassure him on this point, but he himself was +beginning to cherish a lurking fear of a different character. Was +longer continuance of this dream companionship really wise? So far, if +it had influenced the boy at all, it had been for good. But he was +growing older; he was almost eleven. Was it not time that this +imaginary child friend should be eliminated in favor of--of what? The +father's mind came up against the question and recoiled, blankly. Not +exercise, not outdoor pursuits, not pets, for Raymond Mortimer had all +these and more. His little girl friend had not made him a milksop. He +was an active, energetic, live, healthy-minded boy, with all a boy's +normal interests. When he built kennels for his dogs and made hutches +for his rabbits, Lily Bell stood by, it is true, but her friendly +supervision but added to the vigor and excellence of his work. Indeed, +Lily, despite her pantalettes, seemed to have a sporty vein in her. +Still, the father reflected uneasily, it could lead to no good--this +continued abnormal development of the imagination. For Lily Bell was as +real to the boy at ten as she had been at six. + +What could be done? With what entering wedge could one begin to +dislodge this persistent presence? If one sent the boy away, Lily Bell, +of course, would go, too. If one brought--if--one--brought-- + +Mr. Prescott jumped to his feet and slapped his knee with enthusiasm. +He had solved his problem, and the solution was exceedingly simple. +What, indeed, but another little girl! A real little girl, a +flesh-and-blood little girl, a jolly, active little girl, who, as Mr. +Prescott inelegantly put it to himself, "would make Lily Bell, with her +ringlets and her pantalettes, look like thirty cents." Surely in the +circle of their friends and relatives there must be a little girl who +could be borrowed and introduced--oh, casually and with infinite +tact!--into their menage for a few months. Mr. Prescott, well pleased +with himself, winked a Machiavellian wink and sought his wife, +ostensibly to consult her, but in reality to inform her that he had +made up his mind, and that it would be her happy privilege to attend to +the trivial details of carrying out his plan. + +In exactly three weeks Margaret Hamilton Perry was established in the +Prescott homestead for a visit of indefinite length, and in precisely +three hours after her arrival Margaret Hamilton had annexed the +Prescott homestead and its inmates and all the things appertaining +thereto and made them her own. She was the most eager and adorable of +small, fat girls--alive from the crown of her curly head to the soles +of her sensible little spring-heeled shoes. As Mr. Prescott +subsequently remarked in a moment of extreme self-appreciation, if she +had been made to order she couldn't have filled the bill better. Born +and bred in the city, the country was to her a mine of unexplored +delights. The shyness of Raymond Mortimer, suddenly confronted by this +new personality and the immediate need of entertaining it, gave way +before the enthusiasm of the little girl over his pets, his favorite +haunts, the works of his hands--everything in which he had a share. +Clinging to his hand in a rapturous panic as they visited the animals, +she expatiated on the privileges of those happy beings who lived always +amid such delights. + +"I wish I didn't ever have to go away again," she ended, wistfully. + +"I wish you didn't, either," said Raymond, gallantly, and then was +shocked at himself. Was this loyalty to Lily Bell? The reflection gave +a tinge of coldness to his next utterance. When Margaret Hamilton, +cheered by the tribute, asked, confidently, "May I play with you lots +and help you to make things?" the boy's response lagged. + +"Yes," he said, finally, "if Lily Bell will let you." + +"Who's Lily Bell?" + +"She--why, she's the girl I play with! Everybody knows Lily Bell!" + +"Oh!" + +Some of the brightness was gone from the eager face. + +"Will she like me?" she asked, at last. + +"I don't know--I guess--p'r'aps so." + +"Will I like her?" + +"I don't know. You can't see her, you know." + +"Can't see her? Why can't I see her? Doesn't she come here, ever?" + +"Oh yes, she's here all the time, but--" The boy squirmed. For the +first time in his short life he was--_was_ he--ashamed of Lily Bell? +No; not that. Never that! He held his small head high, and his lips +set; but he was a boy, after all, and his voice, to cover the +embarrassment, took on a tone of lofty superiority. + +"Nobody ever does see her but me," he asserted. "They'd like to, but +they don't." + +"Why don't they?" + +Verily, this was a persistent child. The boy was in for complete +surrender, and he made it. + +"She ain't a little girl like you," he explained, briefly. "She doesn't +have any home, and I don't know where she comes from--heaven, maybe," +he hazarded, desperately, as a sort of "When in doubt, play trumps." +"But she comes, an' no one but me sees her, an' we play." + +"Huh!" This without enthusiasm from Margaret Hamilton Perry. She eyed +him remotely for a moment. Then, with an effort at understanding, she +spoke again. + +"I shouldn't think that would be very much fun," she said, candidly. +"Just pretendin' there's a little girl when there ain't! I should think +it would be lots nicer--" She hesitated, a sense of delicacy +restraining her from making the point she so obviously had in mind. + +"Anyhow," she added, handsomely, "I'll like her an' play with her if +you do." + +Raymond Mortimer was relieved but doubtful. Memories of the extreme +contrariness of Lily Bell on occasion overcame him. + +"If she'll let you," he repeated, doggedly. + +Margaret Hamilton stared at him and her eyes grew big. + +"Won't you let me, if she doesn't?" she gasped. "Why--why--" The +situation overcame her. The big, brown eyes filled suddenly. A small +gingham back rippling with fat sobs was presented to Raymond Mortimer. +In him was born immediately man's antipathy to woman's tears. + +"Oh, say," he begged, "don't cry; please don't." He approached the +gingham back and touched it tentatively. "She will let you play with +us," he urged. And then, moved to entire recklessness as the sobs +continued, "_I'll make her!"_ he promised. The gingham back stopped +heaving; a wet face was turned toward him, and a rainbow arched their +little heaven as Margaret Hamilton smiled. Her first triumph was +complete. + +It is to be regretted that Lily Bell did not at once lend herself to +the fulfilment of this agreeable understanding. True, she appeared +daily, as of yore, and Margaret Hamilton was permitted to enter her +presence and join her games, but the exactions of Lily Bell became +hourly more annoying. It was evident that Raymond Mortimer felt them as +such, for his anguished blushes testified to the fact when he repeated +them to the victim. + +"She wants you to go away off and sit down, so's you can't hear what +we're saying," he said to Margaret Hamilton one day. "I don't think +it's very p'lite of her, but she says you must." + +This brief criticism of Lily Bell, the first the boy had ever uttered, +cheered the little girl in her exile. "Never mind," she said. "I don't +care--much. I know it isn't your fault." For by this time she, too, was +under the influence of the spell of convincing reality which Raymond +Mortimer succeeded in throwing over his imaginary friend. + +"She does things Ray wouldn't do," she once confided to Miss Greene. "I +mean," hastily, as she suddenly realized her own words--"I mean she +makes him think--he thinks she thinks--Oh, I don't know how to 'splain +it to you!" And Margaret Hamilton hastily abandoned so complicated a +problem. In reality she was meeting it with a wisdom far beyond her +years. The boy was in the grip of an obsession. Margaret Hamilton would +have been sadly puzzled by the words, but in her wise little head lay +the idea they convey. + +"He thinks she really is here, an' he thinks he's got to be nice to her +because they're such ve-ry old fren's," she told herself. "But she +isn't very nice lately, an' she makes him cross, so maybe by-an'-by +he'll get tired an' make her act better; or maybe--" + +But that last "maybe" was too daring to have a place even in the very +furthest back part of a little girl's mind. + +She lent herself with easy good-nature to Lily Bell's exactions. She +had no fondness for that young person, and she let it be seen that she +had none, but she was courteous, as to a fellow-guest. + +"Pooh! I don't mind," was her usual comment on Miss Bell's behests; and +this cheerful acceptance threw into strong relief the dark shadows of +Lily Bell's perversity. Once or twice she proposed a holiday. + +"Couldn't we go off somewhere, just by ourselves, for a picnic," she +hazarded, one morning--"an' not ask Lily Bell?" + +It was a bold suggestion, but the conduct of Miss Bell had been +especially reprehensible the day before, and even the dauntless spirit +of Margaret Hamilton was sore with the strife. + +"Wouldn't you like a--a rest, too?" she added, insinuatingly. +Apparently the boy would, for without comment he made the preparations +for the day, and soon he and the child were seated side by side in the +boat in which the old gardener rowed them over to their beloved island. + +It was a perfect day. Nothing was said about Lily Bell, and her +presence threw no cloud on those hours of sunshine. Seated adoringly by +the boy's side, Margaret Hamilton became initiated into the mysteries +of bait and fishing, and the lad's respect for his companion increased +visibly when he discovered that she could not only bait his hooks for +him, but could string the fish, lay the festive board for luncheon, and +set it forth. This was a playmate worth while. Raymond Mortimer, long a +slave to the exactions of Lily Bell, for whom he had thanklessly +fetched and carried, relaxed easily into the comfort of man's more +congenial sphere, and permitted himself to be waited on by woman. + +In such and other ways the month of August passed. Margaret Hamilton, +like the happy-hearted child she was, sang through the summer days and +knitted more closely around her the hearts of her companions. + +With the almost uncanny wisdom characteristic of her, she refrained +from discussing Lily Bell with the other members of the family. +Possibly she took her cue from Raymond Mortimer, who himself spoke of +her less and less as the weeks passed; but quite probably it was part +of an instinct which forbids one to discuss the failings of one's +friends. Lily Bell was to Margaret Hamilton a blot on the boy's +scutcheon. She would not point it out even to him, actively as her +practical little soul revolted against his self-deception. Once, +however, in a rare moment of candor, she unbosomed herself to Mr. +Prescott. + +"I don't like her very well," she said, referring, of course, to Lily +Bell. "She's so silly! I hate to pretend an' pretend an' do things we +don't want to do when we could have such good times just by ourselves." + +She buried her nose in his waistcoat as she spoke and sniffed rather +dismally. It had been a trying day. Lily Bell had been much _en +evidence_, and her presence had weighed perceptibly upon the spirits of +the two children. + +"Can't you get rid of her?" suggested the man, shamelessly. "A real +meat little girl like you ought to do away with a dream kid--an +imaginary girl--don't you think?" + +Margaret Hamilton raised her head and looked long into the eyes that +looked back at her. The man nodded solemnly. + +"I'd try if I were you," he said. "I'd try mighty hard. You don't want +her around. She's spoiling everything. Besides," he added, half to +himself, "it's time the boy got over his nonsense." + +Margaret Hamilton reflected, her small face brightening. + +"Are you very, very sure it wouldn't be wicked?" she asked, hopefully. + +"Yep. Perfectly sure. Go in and win!" + +Greatly cheered by this official sanction, Margaret Hamilton the +following day made her second suggestion of a day _a deux_. + +"All by ourselves," she repeated, firmly. "An' not Lily Bell, 'cos +she'd spoil it. An' you row me to the island. Don't let's take Thomas." + +This was distinctly wrong. The children were not allowed to take the +boat save under Thomas's careful eye; but, as has been pointed out, +Margaret Hamilton had her faults. Raymond Mortimer struggled weakly in +the gulf of temptation, then succumbed and went under. + +"All right," he said, largely, "I will. We'll have lunch, too, and +p'r'aps I'll build a fire." + +"We'll play we're cave-dwellers," contributed Margaret Hamilton, whose +invention always exceeded his own, and whose imagination had recently +been stimulated by Miss Greene, who occasionally read aloud to the +children. "You hunt an' get the food an' bring it home, an' I'll cook +it. You be the big, brave man an' I'll be your--your mate," she +concluded, quoting freely from the latest interesting volume to which +she had lent an ear. + +The picture appealed to Raymond Mortimer. With a manly stride he +approached the boat, helped her in, loosened it from its moorings, and +cast off. His brow dark with care, he loftily ordered her to steer, and +spoke no more until they had safely made their landing. + +Alone on their desert island, the two children faithfully carried out +the programme of the day. With dry branches gathered by his mate the +intrepid male soon made a fire, and retreating hurriedly to a point +comfortably distant from it, they gazed upon their work. Fishing and +the cleaning and cooking of their catch filled the morning; and if, +indeed, the cleaning is something the mind would mercifully pass over, +those chiefly concerned were satisfied and ate with prodigious appetite. + +"It's awful funny," said Raymond Mortimer, comfortably, as they reposed +under a tree after their repast, "but when Lily Bell an' I used to come +here--" + +He stopped and gazed apprehensively behind him, as if fearful that the +unbidden guest was even now within hearing. Apparently reassured, he +resumed: "When Lily Bell an' I used to come we 'most always went to +sleep after awhile. I--we--got kind of tired talking, I guess. But when +you an' I talk I don't get tired." + +Margaret Hamilton flushed with delight, but an excess of maidenly +modesty overcame her at the same moment. + +"Why don't you?" she inquired, coyly. + +"'Cos I like you better." + +Margaret Hamilton gasped, sputtered, looked around her. Everything was +in its place; there had been no submarine upheaval. The boy was there +and he had said this thing, the full meaning of which burst suddenly +upon her. Rising to her feet, she hurled herself upon him with the +impetuosity of her intense nature. + +"Do you really?" she gasped and gurgled. "Do you? Oh, do you? Oh, Ray, +I'm so glad!" + +And she kissed him! + +Disengaging himself with dignity from the clinging embrace of the +maiden, the outraged youth rose to his feet. + +"Don't you ever do that again, Margaret Hamilton Perry," he said, +slowly, and with awful sternness. "Don't you ever. Lily Bell never, +never did such a thing!" + +She retreated, but unabashed. + +"It's 'cause I was so glad," she said, happily. "Real girls always do; +they're like that. But I won't any more. You like me best, just the +same, don't you?" she inquired, anxiously. + +He came cautiously nearer. + +"Yes, I do," he said, coldly, "but don't you try that any more, or I +won't!" + +Then they talked of cave-dwellers, and of the pleasant warmth of an +open-air fire on an August day, and of marvellous things they would do +during the coming weeks. And the absorption of their conversation was +such that when the faithful Thomas, having rowed after them, stealthily +approached and smote the boy upon the back, they yelled in startled +unison. + +That no rancor lingered in the mind of Raymond Mortimer toward the +too-demonstrative Margaret Hamilton was proved by the careless remark +he made to his father when, some days later, that gentleman uttered a +jocund inquiry as to the health of Lily Bell. + +His son stared at him for an instant, as one who seeks to recall the +snows of yester-year. + +"Oh," he said, at last, "I haven't seen her for a long time. She +doesn't come round now." + +Then, as his father grinned widely over these melancholy tidings, the +son flushed crimson. + +"Well, I don't care," he said, hotly. "It's all your fault. Didn't you +tell me I had to 'muse Margaret? Didn't you? Well--I am. I ain't got +time for two. An', anyhow," he concluded, with Adamitic instinct, "Lily +Bell stopped coming herself!" + +The exorcism of Lily Bell was complete. Unlike more substantial Lily +Bells of larger growth, she had known how to make her disappearance +coincide with a wish to that effect on the part of her gentleman friend. + + + + +III + +HER LAST DAY + + +For some time--possibly an hour or more--she sat perfectly still, +staring at a wavering line made on the floor by a stray sunbeam which +had forced its way through the window of her hotel sitting-room. At +first she looked unseeingly, with the dull, introspective gaze of the +melancholic. Then she began to notice the thing, and to fear it, and to +watch for outlines of a quivering human face, and to tremble a little. +Surely there had been a face--she thought vaguely, and puckered her +brow in an effort to remember. It was half an hour before she realized +what it was, and the passing of fifteen minutes more had been ticked +off by a clock on the table near her when she lifted her glance enough +to follow the beam along the floor, up the wall, to the pane where it +had entered. She rose suddenly. It was long since she had made a +consciously voluntary movement, and she knew this. She drew a deep +breath as she stood up, and almost on the instant she experienced a +life-giving sensation of poise and freedom. The weight fell from her +feet, the blackness in which she had lived for weeks unwrapped itself +from around her like a departing fog, her lax muscles tightened. She +groped her way to the window and stood there for a moment, resting her +cheek against the cool pane and gazing up at the sky. Presently her +eyes dropped to the level of a distant water-line, and she saw the +river and the trees that fringed its distant bank, and the swiftly +moving boats on its surface. + +She was better. She knew all that this meant, how much and how little. +For an interval, long or short, as it should happen to be, she was +again a rational human being. She abruptly swerved around from the +window and swept the room with her eyes, recognizing it as the one she +was occupying before she "went under," as she put it to herself, and +trying, from association with the familiar objects around her, to form +some idea of the length of this attack. + +At the beginning of her breakdown the intervals between intelligent +consciousness and insanity had been long. She was herself, or was able +to keep herself fairly in hand, the greater part of the time, and +chaos, when it came, lasted only for a few days or weeks. Recently this +condition had been reversed. She had lost knowledge of time, but she +felt that centuries must have passed since those last flying, blessed +hours when she knew herself at least for what she was. She grasped now +at her returning reason, with a desperate, shuddering little moan, +which she quickly stifled. Some one must be near, she remembered, on +guard: her nurse, or a hotel maid if the nurse was taking one of her +infrequent outings. Whoever was in charge of her must be in the next +room, for the door was open between the two. The nurse would welcome +her return, the patient reflected. It was her habit--a singularly +pathetic habit, the nurse had found it--to refer always to her attacks +as "absences," and to temporary recovery as "returns." + +She moved toward the open door and then stopped, feeling suddenly that +she was not yet ready to talk to any one, even the nurse, for whom she +had a casually friendly feeling based on dependence and continued +association. She wished to think--dear God, to be able to think +again!--and there seemed so much thinking to be done and so little time +in which to do it. Her heart dropped a beat as she realized that. On +how much time could she safely count, she wondered. A week? A few days? +It had never been less than a week, until the last episode. She turned +from the thought of that with a sick shudder, but memory dragged it up +and ruthlessly held it before her--the hour, the moment, the very place +she was sitting when it occurred. She had been talking to a friend, who +unconsciously said something that annoyed and excited her. She saw now +that friend's face growing dim before her eyes--at first puzzled, then +frightened, then writhing and twisting into hideous shapes, she +thought, until in her horror she had struck at it. She must not think +of that, she knew, as she set her teeth and pulled herself up short. +She had a will of extraordinary strength, her physicians and nurses had +conceded, and she resolved that it should serve her now. With grim +determination she pieced together the patches of memory left to her. +She had had three days then--three short days. She dared not count on +even that much respite now, though she might possibly have it and more. +But one day--surely Providence would let her have one day--one _last_ +day. Her friends and the specialists had begun to talk of asylums. She +had heard whispers of them before she succumbed to this last attack; +and though her memory of what occurred in it was mercifully vague, she +dimly recalled struggles and the shrieks of some one in agony--her own +shrieks, she knew now, though she had not known it then. It all meant +that she was getting worse and more "difficult." It all meant chronic +invalidism, constant care, eventual confinement. + +Her brain was now abnormally clear, supernaturally active. It worked +with an eager deference, as if striving to atone for the periods when +it failed her. The little clock struck ten. It was early--she had a +long day before her, a beautiful spring day; for she noticed now the +tender green of the leaves and the youth of the grass. How interesting +it would be, she reflected, idly, to go out into the free, busy world +and mingle with human beings, and walk the city streets and come into +touch with life and the living. She would go, she would spend the day +that way; but, alas! the nurse would go, too--cool, kind, professional, +alert, quietly watchful. If she could in any way elude her and go +alone. ... + +Her eyes narrowed and took on a look of cunning as she turned them +sidewise toward the open door. As stealthily as a cat she crept to it +and looked in. On a divan in the farthest corner the nurse lay +stretched in a deep sleep, whose unpremeditatedness was shown by the +book which lay on the floor, dropped, evidently, from her suddenly +relaxed fingers. The patient retreated as noiselessly as she had +advanced, and, going to a mantel-mirror in her sitting-room, turned on +her reflection there a long and frightened look. She saw a woman of +thirty-five, thin, pale, haggard, high-bred. Her hair had been arranged +in accordance with the nurse's conception of comfort and economy of +time, and though her gown was perfect in its fit and tailor-made +severity, the lace at her neck and in the sleeves of her silk waist was +not wholly fresh. Her lips curled as she looked. This was she, Alice +Stansbury, the wreck of a woman who had once had health and beauty and +wealth and position. The last two were in a degree left to her, but +what difference did it make how she looked, she asked herself, harshly. +Even as the thought came, however, she took off her waist and sewed +clean lace cuffs on the sleeves, replacing the collar with a fresh one. +Then she took down her hair and rearranged it, rapidly but with care. +It was a simple matter to change her slippers for walking-boots, and to +find her hat and coat and gloves in their old places. Miss Manuel, the +nurse, _was_ reliable, she told herself again as she put them on, +feeling a moment's gratitude to the woman for trying to keep her "up," +even during her "absences," to something approaching the standard a +gentlewoman's birth and breeding demanded. Her money, or at least a +large part of it, for she did not stop to count it, she found in the +despatch-box where she had put it on their arrival in New York, and the +key was with others on a ring in the private drawer of her +writing-desk. Hurriedly she selected several large bills and put them +into a silver purse, pressing it deep into the pocket of her +walking-skirt with some vague fear that she might lose it. Then she +replaced the box and locked the desk, dropping the key in her pocket. +Her movements were extraordinarily swift and noiseless. In twenty +minutes from the time she had looked in on the nurse she was ready for +the street. + +A second glance into the inner room showed her that Miss Manuel was +still sleeping. She regarded her distrustfully for an instant, and on a +sudden impulse sat down at her desk and wrote a message on a sheet of +the hotel paper. + +"I am going out for the day. _I will return to-night._ Do nothing, +consult no one. I am quite able to take care of myself. Don't make a +sensation for the newspapers! ALICE STANSBURY." + +"That last sentence will quiet her," she reflected, with cool +satisfaction, as she pinned the note to the side of the mirror. "She +won't care to advertise far and wide that she has temporarily mislaid a +patient!" + +The most difficult thing of all remained to be done. The outer door of +her own room was locked and the key was missing. To leave the apartment +she must pass through the room where Miss Manuel lay asleep. She held +her breath, but crossed in safety, though Miss Manuel stirred and +murmured something, as if subconsciously warned of danger. Miss +Stansbury closed the door noiselessly behind her and stood silent for a +moment in the hall, glancing about her and planning the wisest method +of getting away. She knew better than to enter any of the hotel +elevators. While there was no certainty that she would be detained if +she did, there had been a great deal of interest in her when she +arrived at the hotel, and there was every chance that some employe +might think it a wise precaution to ask her nurse a question or two +after she departed. Then Miss Manuel would be hot upon her trail, and +her day would be spoiled. She crept cautiously along the rear halls, +keeping out of sight on each floor when the elevators were passing, and +meeting only strangers and one preoccupied porter. Her rooms were on +the fifth floor, but she descended the four flights of stairs in +safety, and, going triumphantly out of the rear entrance of the hotel, +found herself in the quiet street on which it opened. The great +building was on a corner, and as she crossed its threshold she saw a +trolley-car passing along the avenue at her right. On a quick impulse +she signalled. When it stopped she entered and seated herself in a +corner, surveying her fellow-passengers with seeming unconcern, though +her breath came fast. She was safe; she was off! She decided to ride on +until she made her plans and knew in more detail what should be done +with this gift of the gods, a day that was all her own. + +It had been a long time since she had been alone, she suddenly +remembered. There had been outings, of course, and shopping expeditions +and the like, but always Miss Manuel or one of her kind had been at her +elbow--sometimes professionally cheerful, sometimes professionally +grave, but at all times professionally watchful. The woman exulted +fiercely in her new-found liberty. She had hours before her--free, +glorious hours. She would use them, fill them, squander them in a +prodigal spending, following every impulse, indulging every desire, for +they were hers and they were her last. In the depths of her brain lay a +resolution as silent, as deadly, as a coiled serpent waiting to strike. +She would enter no asylums, she would endure no more "absences," she +would have no more supervision, no more consultations, no more +half-concealed fear of friends, no more pity from strangers. There was +a way of escaping all this forever, and she knew it and would take it, +though it led across the dim threshold over which she could never +return. + +The car hummed as it sped along. At a distance she saw an entrance to +Central Park, and from the inside the branches of trees seemed to wave +a salute to her in honor of her freedom. She signalled to the conductor +and left the car, retracing her steps until she entered the Park. She +was far up-town, near the northern end of it, and the paths, warm in +the spring sunshine, were almost deserted. For a while she strolled +idly about, her senses revelling in the freshness and beauty around +her, in the green vistas that opened to right and left, and the soft +breeze that fanned her face. Children, riding tricycles or rolling +hoops, raced past her; and once, after she had walked almost an hour, a +small boy of four slipped his hand into her gloved one and trotted +beside her for a moment, to the open scandal of his nurse. She smiled +down at him, pleased by the touch of his little fingers. When he left, +as abruptly as he had joined her, and in response to a stentorian Irish +summons from the rear, she felt a rather surprising degree of regret. +The momentary contact had given her a pleasant sense of companionship; +for the first time it came to her that it would be better to have a +sharer of this day of days--no hireling, no scientific-eyed caretaker, +but a little child or a friend, some one, any one, whom she liked and +who liked her, and who, like the little boy, did not know the truth +about her. + +Her spirits dropped as suddenly as they had risen, and she felt tired +and disappointed. Almost unconsciously she dropped on a bench to rest, +her eyes still following the figure of the child, now almost out of +sight around a distant bend. The bench was off the path, and she had +been too preoccupied when she sat down to notice that it had another +occupant; but as the figure of her little friend vanished and she +turned her eyes away with a sigh, she found herself looking into those +of a man. He was very young, hardly more than a boy, and he occupied +the far end of the seat, one arm thrown across the back of it, his +knees crossed, and his body so turned that he faced her. The thing she +saw in his eyes held her own fastened to them, at first in surprise, +then in sudden comprehension. It was hunger. With a long look she took +him in--the pinched pallor of his smooth, handsome young face, the +feverish brightness of his gray eyes, the shabbiness of his well-made, +well-fitting clothes, even the rent in the side of one of his +patent-leather shoes. His linen was clean, and his cuffs were fastened +with cheap black links; she reflected instinctively that he had pawned +those whose place they obviously filled, and then her mind returned at +once to her first discovery, that he was hungry. There was no mistaking +it. She had never seen hunger in a face before, but she recognized it +now. He had taken off his hat and dropped it on the bench beside him. +His brown hair was short and wavy, and one lock on his left temple was +white. He had been writing a note, or possibly an advertisement for +work, with a stub of lead-pencil on a scrap of paper resting on his +knee, and now he suddenly raised his eyes--either in an abstracted +search for the right word or because her appearance had startled him. + +Without hesitation she spoke to him. + +"Pardon me," she said, impersonally. "May I ask you some questions?" + +He looked at her, and the understanding of his situation revealed in +her glance brought the blood to his face. He straightened himself, his +lips parting for a reply, but she gave him no time to speak. + +"I am a stranger here," she continued, "and New York is not always kind +to strangers. You seem to be unhappy, too. I wonder if we cannot help +each other." + +He smiled with an unyouthful bitterness. + +"I'm afraid I'm not much use--to myself or any one else," he answered, +with hard deliberation. Then his face underwent a change as he looked +at hers and read in it, inexperienced as he was, some of the tragic +writing of Fate's inexorable hand. His voice showed his altered mood. + +"Of course," he added, quickly, "if there's really anything I can do. I +know the town well enough. Perhaps I can help you if you want to get +anywhere. What is it you would like?" + +Her face, under the sudden idea which came to her, could hardly be said +to brighten, but it changed, becoming less of a mask, more human. She +felt a thrill of unaccustomed interest, less in him than in the plan +which he unconsciously suggested. Here at last was something to do. +Here was a companion who did not know her. He was watching her closely +now, and it came to him for the first time, with a sense of surprise, +that this strange woman who had spoken to him was not old, and was even +attractive. + +"I think you can help me, if you will," she went on, quietly. "As I +have said, I am a stranger in New York. I have never seen anything of +it except the streets I passed through this morning between the Park +and my hotel. But I've always wanted to see it, and to-day is my first +and only opportunity, for I am going away to-night." + +He surveyed her thoughtfully. The shadow had returned to his face, and +it was plain that under his air of courteous interest stirred the +self-despair she had surprised in her first look at him. + +"Of course I can make out a sight-seer's list for you," he said, when +she stopped, "and I will, with pleasure. I think you'd better drop into +the Metropolitan Art Galleries while you're in the Park. I'll write the +other places in their street order going down-town, so you won't waste +time doubling on your tracks. Have you a bit of paper?" + +He began to fumble in his own pockets as he spoke, but vaguely, as one +who knows the search is vain. She shook her head. + +"No," she told him, "and I don't want one. That isn't my idea at all--a +list of places to look up all alone and a dismal round of dreary +sight-seeing. What I would like"--she smiled almost demurely--"is a +'personally conducted' tour. Are you very busy?" + +He flushed again and looked at her, this time with a veiled suspicion +in his glance. She met it with such calm appreciation that it changed +to one of surprised doubt. She knew perfectly what was passing in his +mind, and it caused her no more concern than the puzzled silence of a +child who has heard a new word. She went on as complacently as if he +were the little boy who had walked beside her a few moments before. + +"In Paris and London," she remarked, "one can engage a guide, a +gentleman, for a day at a fixed price. Probably there are such guides +here in New York, if I knew where they were to be found and had the +time to look for them. You are much younger than I am. You might almost +be my son! Moreover, you will not mind my saying that I fancied you +were unemployed and possibly were looking for employment. You can +hardly help seeing the definite connection in all this." + +His eyes met hers for a moment and then dropped. He blushed boyishly. + +"I see you're trying to help me," he murmured, apologetically. + +She went on as if she had not heard him. + +"Let me employ you for the day. I need amusement, interest, +occupation--more than you can imagine. I am in the same mood, as far as +desolation and discouragement go, that you are in. I must be about, +seeing people and diverting my mind. We can each supply the other with +one thing that we need. I have money. To earn a little of that +professionally, by a humane service, should really appeal to you." + +Something in her voice as she uttered the last words made him turn +toward her again. As he looked, his young face softened. She waited in +silence for what he would say. + +He sat up and straightened his shoulders with a quick gesture. + +"You are right," he said, "but I'm awfully afraid you'll get the worst +of it. I'm not an ornamental escort for a lady, as you see." He looked +at his broken shoe, and then at her. Her expression showed entire +indifference to the point he had raised. + +"We will consider it settled," she said. "You will take my purse and +pay our joint expenses. I think," she went on, as she handed it to him, +"we'll omit the Metropolitan. After miles of the Louvre and the +Luxembourg and the Vatican, I don't seem to crave miles of that. +Suppose we take a cab and drive round. I want to see the streets, and +the crowds, and the different types of men and women, and the slums. I +used to be interested in Settlement work, long ago." + +"Pardon me," he said. "You have won your case. I will serve you to the +best of my ability. But as a preliminary I insist on counting the money +in this purse, and on your seeing that my accounts are all right." + +"Do as you like about that," she replied, indifferently, but her glance +rested on him with a glint of approval. + +He deliberately counted the bills. "There are three hundred and forty +dollars," he said, replacing them. + +She nodded absently. She had sunk into a momentary reverie, from which +he did not arouse her until she suddenly looked at her watch. "Why, +it's after twelve!" she exclaimed, with more animation than she had yet +shown. "We'll go to Delmonico's or Sherry's for luncheon, and make our +programme while we're there." + +He started, and leaned forward, fixing his eyes on her, but she did not +meet them. She replaced her watch in her belt with a successful +assumption of abstraction, but she was full of doubt as to how he would +take this first proposition. The next instant the bench trembled under +the force with which he had dropped back on it. + +"God!" he cried, hoarsely, "it's all a put-up job to feed me because +you suspect I'm hungry! No, you don't even suspect--you _know_ I'm +hungry!" + +She put her hand on his arm, and the gesture silenced him. + +"Be quiet," she said. "Suppose you are hungry? What of it? Is it a +disgrace to be hungry? Men and women deliberately cultivate the +condition! Come," she ended, as she rose abruptly, "keep to your +bargain. We both need our luncheon." + +He replaced the purse in the inside-pocket of his coat, and rose. They +walked a few moments without a word. She noticed how well he carried +himself and how muscular and athletic his figure appeared even in its +shabby clothes. As they strolled toward the nearest exit she talked of +the Park, and asked him a few matter-of-fact questions, to which he +replied with growing animation. "I can't give you figures and +statistics, I'm afraid," he added, smiling. + +She shook her head. "It would be sad if you could," she said. "Give me +anything but information. As for statistics, I've a constitutional +distaste for them. Where can we find a cab?" + +"We won't find a cab," he explained, with an authoritative independence +which somehow appealed to her. "We'll take this trolley-car and ride to +within a short walk of Delmonico's. After luncheon we'll find cabs at +every turn." + +He helped her into a car as he spoke, and paid their fare from her +purse, flushing as he had to change a five-dollar note to do so. The +simple act emphasized for him, as no words could have done, his +peculiar relation to this strange woman, whom he had never seen until +half an hour ago. Balancing the purse in his hand, he glanced at her, +taking in almost unconsciously the tragic droop of her lips, the +prematurely gray locks in her dark hair, and the unchanging gloom of +her brown eyes. + +"How do you know I won't drop off the car at some corner and abscond +with this?" he asked, in a low voice. + +She looked at him calmly. + +"I think I know you will not. But if you did it would hurt me." + +"Would it spoil your day?" + +"Yes," she conceded, "it would spoil my day." + +"Well," he announced, judiciously, "you shall not have to reproach me +with anything of that kind. Your day shall be a success if I can make +it so." + +His manner was more than gentle. His mood was one of gratitude and +pleasant expectation. He was getting to know her and was sorry for +her--possibly because she trusted him and was sorry for him. She was +not the companion he would have chosen for a day's outing, and it was +doubtful if she would be any too cheerful; but he would serve her +loyally, wherever this queer adventure led, and he was young enough to +appreciate its possibilities. Inwardly she was amused by his little +affectation of experience, of ripe age addressing youth, but it was so +unconsciously done, so unconquerably youthful, that it added to the +interest he had aroused in her. She liked, too, his freshness and +boyish beauty, and his habit of asserting his sense of honor above +everything. Above all things, she liked his ignorance of her. To him, +she was merely a woman like other women; there was a satisfaction to +her in that thought as deep as it was indescribable. The only other +occupants of the car were a messenger-boy, lost to his surroundings in +a paper-covered novel, and a commercial traveller whose brow was +corrugated by mental strain over a notebook. + +"There are some things I would like to do in New York," she confided. +"We will do them now--lunch at Delmonico's, go sight-seeing all the +afternoon, dine at Sherry's, and go to the theatre this evening. Which +is the best play in town?" + +"Well--er--that, you know, depends on what you like," hazarded the boy, +sagely. "Do you prefer comedy, tragedy, or melodrama?" + +She reflected. + +"Something light," she decided; "something airy and effervescent--with +no problems or even thoughts in it." + +His eyes twinkled as he smiled at her. If these were her tastes, she +was getting on, he reflected, and the vista of the long day before him +offered attractions. + +"'Peter Pan'!" he exclaimed. "That's all those things. I've not seen +it, but I've read the criticisms, and I know a fellow who has gone five +times." + +"Testimony enough," agreed his companion. "We'll go to 'Peter Pan.' Now +tell me something about yourself." + +"Is that in the bond?" + +"No. That would be a gift." + +"I'd--I'd rather not, if you don't mind." + +He indulged in his inevitable painful blush as he spoke, but she stared +at him without pity and with a sudden hauteur which gave him a glimpse +of another side of her complex nature. This woman who picked up strange +youths in the street and spent the day with them was obviously +accustomed to unquestioning deference from others. He edged away from +her, firm but unhappy. + +"You're right," she said, at last. "We'll add a clause to our compact +and play we're disembodied spirits. Neither of us will ask the other a +personal question." + +"Agreed, and thank you. It's not that I wouldn't be flattered, you +know, by your interest, and all that," he went on, awkwardly. "It's +only because it's such a beastly harrowing recital and shows me up in +such--such an inefficient light. It would depress you, and it couldn't +do me any good. The things about myself are what I want to get away +from--for a while." + +They were soon at Delmonico's, and she followed him into the main +dining-room, where she selected a table at a window looking out on the +Avenue. The head waiter glanced at him, hesitated, surveyed her, and +showed that he was indeed a good servant who knew his own. He hovered +over them with deepening interest as they scanned the menu. + +The boy smiled at his companion, trying not to notice the smell of the +food around them, nor the horrible sinking sensation which overwhelmed +him at intervals. A sickening fear swept over him that he would faint +before luncheon came--faint on a lady's hands, and from starvation at +that! He plunged into conversation with reckless vivacity. + +When the waiter came with the oysters she set the example of eating +them at once. Her companion followed it in leisurely fashion. She told +herself that he was a thoroughbred, and that she had not been mistaken +in him, but she would almost have preferred to see him eat wolfishly. +His restraint got on her nerves. She could not eat, though she made a +pretence of it. When he had eaten his soup with the same careful +deliberation, a little color came into his face. She observed this, and +her tension relaxed. + +"The last time I was here," he said, absently, "was two years ago. One +of the fellows at New Haven had a birthday, and we celebrated it in the +corner room just above this. It was a pretty lively dinner. We kept it +up from seven o'clock until two in the morning, and then we all went +out on the Avenue and sat down in the middle of the street, where it +was cool, to smoke and talk it over. That was Davidson's idea. It +annoyed the cabmen and policemen horribly. They have such ready tempers +and such torpid minds." + +The recital and the picture it called up amused her. + +"What else did you do?" she asked, with interest. + +"I'm afraid I don't remember much of it," he confessed. "I know we were +pretty silly; but I do remember how foolish the head waiter looked when +Davidson insisted on kissing him good-bye in the hall out there, and +cried because he didn't know when he'd see him again. Of course you +can't see how funny that was, because you don't know Davidson. He was +the most dignified chap at college, and hated gush more than any one I +ever knew." + +He drank the last of his black coffee with a sigh of content, and blew +a last ring from the cigar she had insisted that he should smoke. + +"Don't you think," he hazarded, "that it would be jolly to drive up and +down Broadway and Fifth Avenue for an hour or two? If you want crowds, +they're there; and if you see anything worth closer inspection, we can +get out and look at it." + +She agreed, and he paid the bill, tipping the waiter discriminatingly. + +As their hansom threaded its way through the crowded street she rarely +smiled, but her sombre eyes took in everything, and she "said things," +as the boy put it, which he recalled and quoted years afterward. +Incidentally she talked of herself, though always without giving him a +clew as to who she was and where she came from. Several times, as a +face in the passing throng caught her interest, she outlined for him in +a few terse words the character of its possessor. He was interested, +but he must have unconsciously suggested a certain unbelief in her +intuition, for once she stopped speaking and looked at him sharply. + +"You think I don't know," she said, "but I do. We always know, until we +kill the gift with conventionalities. We're born with an intuitive +knowledge of character. Savages have it, and animals, and babies. We +lose it as we advance in civilization, for then we distrust our +impressions and force our likes and dislikes to follow the dictates of +policy. I've worked hard to keep and develop my insight, and behold my +reward! I recognized you at the first glance as the perfect companion +of a day." + +The boy's face flamed with pleasure. + +"Then it is a success?" + +"It is a success. But it's also five o'clock. What next?" + +"Then it's been a success?" he repeated, dreamily--"so far, I mean. +We've done so little in one way, but I'm awfully glad you've liked it. +We'll drop into Sherry's now for a cup of tea and a buttered English +muffin and the beautiful ladies and the Hungarian Band. Then, instead +of dining there, suppose we go to some gayer, more typical New York +place--one of the big Broadway restaurants? That will show you another +'phase,' as you say; and the cooking is almost as good." + +She agreed at once. "I think I'd like that," she said. "I want as much +variety as I can get." + +He leaned toward her impressively over the little table in the +tea-room, recalling her unexpected tribute to the "perfect companion," +and feeling all at once surprisingly well acquainted with her. + +"What a pity you've got to go away tonight!" he murmured, ingenuously. +"There's so much left to do." + +For an instant, as memory rolled over her, her heart stopped beating. +He observed her change of expression and looked at her with a +sympathetic question in his gray eyes. + +"Can't you change your plans?" he suggested, hopefully. "Must you go?" + +"No, they're not that kind of plans. I must go." + +As she spoke her face had the colorlessness and the immobility he had +seen in it during the first moments it was turned toward him in the +morning, and her features suddenly looked old and drawn. Under the +revelation of a trouble greater than he could understand, the boy +dropped his eyes. + +"By Jove!" he thought, suddenly, "she's got something the matter with +her." He wondered what it was, and the idea flashed over him that it +might be an incurable disease. Only the year before he had heard a +friend receive his death-warrant in a specialist's office, and the +memory of the experience remained with him. He was so deep in these +reflections that for a moment he forgot to speak, and she in her turn +sat silent. + +"I'm sorry," he then said, awkwardly. Then, rightly divining the +quickest way to divert her thoughts, he suggested that they should +drive again before dinner, for an hour or two, to get the effect of the +twilight and the early lights on Broadway. + +She agreed at once, as she had agreed to most of his suggestions, and +her face when she looked at him was serene again, but he was not wholly +reassured. In silence he followed her to the cab. + +Over their dinner that night in the glittering Broadway restaurant, +with the swinging music of French and German waltzes in their ears, she +relaxed again from the impersonal attitude she had observed during the +greater part of the day. She looked at him more as if she saw him, he +told himself, but he could not flatter himself that the change was due +to any deepening of her interest in him. It was merely that she knew +him better, and that their long hours of sight-seeing had verified her +judgment of him. + +Their talk swept over the world. He realized that she had lived much +abroad and had known many interesting men and women. From casual +remarks she dropped he learned that she was an orphan, unmarried, with +no close ties, and that her home was not near New York. This, when the +next day, after a dazed reading of the morning newspapers, he summed up +his knowledge of her, was all he could recall--the garnered drift-wood +of a talk that had extended over twelve hours. + +"You look," he said once, glancing critically at her, "as if you had +lived for centuries and had learned all the lessons life could teach." + +She shook her head. "I have lived for centuries, so far as that goes," +she said, "but of all the lessons I've really learned only one." + +"And that is?" + +"How little it all amounts to." + +Again, as he studied her, he experienced an unpleasant little tremor. +He felt at the same time an odd conviction that this woman had played a +part all day, and that now, through fatigue and depression, she was +tiring of her role and would cast it away, showing herself to him as +she was. For some reason he did not want this. The face behind the +mask, of which he was beginning to get a glimpse at intervals, was a +face he feared he would not like. He shrank from it as a child shrinks +from what it does not understand. + +Much to his relief, she threw off the dark mood that seemed to threaten +her, and at the play she was more human than she had been yet. + +"Ah, that first act," she said, as the curtain fell on Peter Pan's +flight through the window with the Darling Children--"that delicious +first act! Of course Barrie can't keep it up--no one could. But the +humor of it and the tenderness and the naivete! Only a grown-up with +the heart of a child could really appreciate it." + +"And you are that?" he asked, daringly. He knew she was not. + +"Only for this half-hour," she smiled. "I may get critical at any +moment and entirely out of touch." + +She did not, however, and watching her indulgent appreciation of the +little boys in Never Never Land, he unconsciously reflected that, after +all, this must be the real woman. That other personality, some sudden +disheartening side of which he got from time to time, was not his new +friend who laughed like a young girl over the crocodile with the clock +inside, and showed a sudden swift moisture in her brown eyes when the +actress pleaded for the dying fairy. When the curtain fell on the last +act, leaving Peter Pan alone with his twinkling fairy friends in his +little home high among the trees, Alice Stansbury turned to her +companion with the sudden change of expression he had learned to dread. +The pupils of her eyes were strangely dilated, and she was evidently +laboring under some suppressed excitement. She spoke to him curtly and +coolly. + +"We'll have a Welsh rabbit somewhere," she said, "and then I'll +go--back." He was struck by this use of the word, and by the tone of +her voice as she said it. "Back," he repeated, mentally--"back to +something mighty unpleasant, I'll wager." + +At the restaurant she ate nothing and said little. All the snap and +sparkle had gone out of the day and out of their companionship as well. +Even the music was mournful, as if in tacit sympathy, and the faces of +the diners around them looked tired and old. When they left the +dining-room they stood together for an instant in the vestibule opening +into the street. No one was near them, and they were for the moment +beyond the reach of curious eyes. She cast one quick look around to be +sure of this, and then, going close to him, she put both her hands on +his shoulders. As she stood thus he realized for the first time how +tall she was. Her eyes were almost on a level with his own. + +"You're a dear boy," she said, quickly, and a little breathlessly. "You +have made the day perfect, and I thank you. We shall not meet again, +but I'd like to feel that you won't forget me, and I want you to tell +me your first name." + +He put his hands over hers. + +"It's Philip," he said, simply, "and as for forgetting, you may be very +sure I won't. This isn't the kind of thing one forgets, and you're not +the kind of woman." + +As he spoke the grip of her hands on his shoulders tightened, and she +leaned forward and kissed him on the mouth. Under the suddenness and +the surprise of it his senses whirled, but even in the chaos of the +moment he was conscious of two conflicting impressions--the first, an +odd disappointment in her, his friend; the second, an absurd resentment +against the singular remoteness of those cool, soft lips that for an +instant brushed his own. She gave him no chance to speak. + +"I've left my gloves on the table," she said, crisply. "Get them." + +He went without a word. When he returned the vestibule was deserted. +With a swift intuition of the truth he opened the door and rushed out +into the street. She was not there, nor the cabman whom he had +instructed to wait for them. She had slipped away, as she intended to +do, and the kiss she had given him had been a farewell. He was left +standing looking stupidly up and down the street, with her gloves in +his hand and her purse, as he now remembered, in his pocket. Well, he +could advertise that the next morning, in such a way that she could +reclaim it without seeing him again if she wished. He could even seal +it in an envelope and leave it at the _Herald_ office, to be given to +any one who would describe it. He walked slowly down Broadway and +turned into the side street which held the house and the unattractive +hall bedroom he called home. He felt "let down," as he would have put +it, and horribly lonely and depressed. She was such a good sort, he +reflected, and it was such a big pity she wouldn't let him see her +again. He knew somehow that he never would. She was not a woman that +changed her mind about things. Jove! but the whole experience had been +interesting; and that kiss--that kiss he had been cad enough to +misunderstand for an instant. ... The deepest blush of the day scorched +his face as he recalled it. + +Miss Stansbury arrived at the front entrance of her hotel at the same +moment, and tersely instructed the driver to collect his fare at the +desk. She entered the hall with him, and walked indifferently past the +night clerk, answering with a nod the tacit question of that youth as +he glanced from her to the cabman. She was not unconscious of the +suppressed excitement in his manner nor of the elevator boy's relief as +he joyfully greeted her appearance in his car. What did it matter? What +did anything matter now? Her day was over. + +Miss Manuel, already informed of her arrival by a hurried telephone +message from the office, was waiting for her at the door of their +apartment. She burst into tears as she put her arms around her patient +and kissed her and led her inside. + +"Oh, my dear, how _could_ you?" she cried, reproachfully. "Think of the +agonies I've been through. It's almost twelve o'clock." + +The other woman did not look at her, nor did she return the caress. She +walked into the room and sat down at her desk, with a strange +appearance of haste, at which the nurse marvelled. Without waiting to +take off her hat or coat, she seized a pen and paper and wrote these +lines, marking them plainly: + +PERSONAL + +FOR INSERTION IN TO-MORROW'S "HERALD" + +_PHILIP.--The purse was purposely left with you. Its contents are +yours._ + +She put this in an envelope and directed it to the _Herald_ Advertising +Department. Then, for the first time, she spoke to the nurse, balancing +the envelope absently in her hand as she talked, and not looking once +at the other's face. Her tones were level and monotonous, almost as if +she were repeating a lesson. + +"You need not have worried," she said, answering at last the nurse's +first words. "I've had what I've wanted for years--a whole day to +myself. I've done what I wanted to do. It's been worth while. But," she +added, more slowly, "you needn't ask me about it, for I shall not tell +you anything. Ring for a messenger, please. I want this taken to the +_Herald_ office at once; give him the money to pay for it." + +In silence Miss Manuel obeyed. When the boy came she went into the hall +to hand the envelope to him, glancing at the address as she did so. The +instant she crossed the threshold Alice Stansbury slipped into the next +room and opened a window looking down into a court. As she did so she +whimpered like a frightened child. + +"I must do it," she whispered. "I must--I must--now--now--now! If I +wait, I won't--dare." + +When the nurse entered the room there was only the open window to tell +her what had happened. Panting, she leaned out and looked down with +starting eyes. Far below, on the asphalt floor of the court, was a dark +mass which moved once and then lay still. + +The little clock on the table in the inner room struck twelve. Out in +the hall the messenger whistled softly as he waited for the elevator. +Hearing these familiar sounds, the nurse cast off the paralysis which +had held her, and the silent corridor of the great hotel echoed her +useless call for help. + + + + +IV + +THE SIMPLE LIFE OF GENEVIEVE MAUD + + +Genevieve Maud reclined in a geranium-bed in an attitude of unstudied +ease. On her fat body was a white dress, round her waist was a wide, +blue sash, perched on one side of her head was a flaunting blue bow, +and in her heart was bitterness. It was dimly comforting to lie down in +all this finery, but it did not really help much. She brooded darkly +upon her wrongs. They were numerous, and her cherubic little face took +on additional gloom as she summed them up. First, she had been +requested to be good--a suggestion always unwelcome to the haughty soul +of Genevieve Maud, and doubly so this morning when she saw no +alternative but to obey it. Secondly, there was no one to play with--a +situation depressing to any companionable being, and grindingly so to +one who considered all men her peers, all women her unquestioning +slaves, and all animals grateful ministers to her needs in lowlier +fields of delight. + +These delusions, it must be admitted, had been fostered during the four +short but eventful years of Genevieve Maud's life. Her method of +approach had been singularly compelling; old and young paused not to +argue, but freely stripped themselves of adornments she fancied, and +animals, from the kitten she carried round by one ear to the great St. +Bernard she half strangled in recurring moments of endearment, bore +with her adoringly, and humbly followed the trail of cake she left +behind her when she tired of them and trotted off in search of fresh +attractions. These were usually numerous; and had they been rarer, the +ingenuity of Genevieve Maud would have been equal to the test. There +were no social distinctions in her individual world. But one short year +ago she had followed a hand-organ man and a monkey to a point safely +distant from too-observant relatives and servants; there, beside the +chattering monkey, she had sung and danced and scrambled for pennies +and shaken a tambourine, and generally conducted herself like a +_debutante_ maenad. + +That had been a glorious day. She recalled it now smoulderingly, +resentfully. Different, indeed, was the tragic present. No one to play +with--that was bad enough. But there were still worse conditions. She +was not even allowed to play by herself! Rover had been banished to a +neighbor's, the kitten had been lent generously to the Joyce children, +her human playmates had been warned off the premises, and Genevieve +Maud had been urged to be a dear little girl and keep very, very quiet +because mamma was sick. As if this was not enough, fate drove its +relentless knife and gave it a final twist. Far back in a corner of the +garden where she lay, almost hidden by the drooping branches of an old +willow, sat her two sisters, Helen Adeline and Grace Margaret, highly +superior beings of a stately dignity even beyond their ripe ages of +eleven and nine years. They were too old to play with little girls, as +they had frequently mentioned to Genevieve Maud, but they were not +wholly beyond the power of her spell, and there had been occasions when +they had so far forgotten themselves as to descend to her level and +enjoy doll tea-parties and similar infantile pleasures. To-day, +however, they were of a remoteness. Their plump backs were turned to +her, their heads were close together, and on the soft afternoon breeze +that floated over the garden were borne sibilant whispers. They were +telling each other secrets--secrets from which Genevieve Maud, by +reason of her tender years, was irrevocably shut out. + +Genevieve Maud sat up suddenly in the flower-bed as the full horror of +this truth burst upon her, and then briskly entered into action +designed to transform the peace and quiet of the scene. Her small, fat +face turned purple, her big, brown eyes shut tight, her round mouth +opened, and from the tiny aperture came a succession of shrieks which +would have lulled a siren into abashed silence. The effect of this +demonstration, rarely long delayed, was instantaneous now. A +white-capped nurse came to an up-stairs window and shook her head +warningly; the two small sisters rose and scurried across the lawn; a +neighbor came to the hedge and clapped her hands softly, clucking +mystic monosyllables supposed to be of a soothing nature; neighboring +children within hearing assumed half-holiday expressions and started +with a rush to the side of the blatant afflicted one. Surveying all +this through half-shut eyes and hearing the steady tramp of the +oncoming relief corps, an expression of triumphant content rested for +an instant of Genevieve Maud's face. Then she tied it up again into +knots of even more disfiguring pattern, took another long breath, and +apparently made an earnest effort to attract the attention of citizens +of the next township. "I'm tired!" was the message Genevieve Maud sent +to a sympathetic world on the wings of this megaphonic roar. + +The trained nurse, who had rushed down-stairs and into the garden, now +reached her side and drastically checked Genevieve Maud's histrionism +by spreading a spacious palm over the wide little mouth. With her other +hand she hoisted Genevieve Maud from the flower-bed and escorted her to +neutral ground on the lawn. + +"'Tired!'" repeated the irate nurse, as the uproar subsided to gurgles. +"Heavens! I should think you would be, after that!" Helen Adeline and +Grace Margaret arrived simultaneously, and the older child took the +situation and the infant in hand with her best imitation of her +mother's manner. + +"I am so sorry you were disturbed, Miss Wynne," she said, "and poor +mamma, too. We will take care of Genevieve Maud, and she won't cry any +more. We were just making some plans for her future," she ended, +loftily. + +The mouth of Genevieve Maud, stretched for another yell, was arrested +in its distension. Her small ears opened wide. Was she, after all, in +the secret? It would seem so, for the nurse, seemingly satisfied, left +the three children alone and went back to her patient, while Helen +Adeline at once led her small sister to the choice retreat under the +willow. + +"We are going to talk to you, Genevieve Maud," she began, "ve-ry +seriously, and we want you to pay 'tention and try to understand." This +much was easy. Mamma usually opened her impressive addresses in such +fashion. + +"'Pay 'tention and try to understand," echoed Genevieve Maud, and +grinned in joyful interest. + +"Yes, really try," repeated Helen Adeline, firmly. Then, rather +impatiently, and as one bearing with the painful limitations of the +young, she went on: + +"You're so little, Maudie, you see, you don't know; and you won't know +even if we tell you. But you are a spoiled child; every one says so, +and mamma said the other day that something should be done. She's sick, +so she can't do it, but we can. We've got to take care of you, anyhow, +so this is a good time. Now what it really is, is a kind of game. +Gracie and I will play it, and you are going to--to--well, you are +going to be the game." + +Genevieve Maud nodded solemnly, well satisfied. She was in it, anyhow. +What mattered the petty details? "'Going to be the game,'" she echoed, +as was her invariable custom, with the air of uttering an original +thought. + +Helen Adeline went on impressively. + +"It's called the simple life," she said, "and grown-up folks are +playing it now. I heard the minister an' mamma talking about it las' +week for hours an' hours an' hours. They give up pomps an' vanerties, +the minister says, an' they mus'n't have luxuries, an' they mus' live +like nature an' save their souls. They can't save their souls when they +have pomps an' vanerties. We thought we'd try it with you first, an' +then if we like it--er--if it's nice, I mean, p'r'aps Grace an' I will, +too. But mamma is sick, an' you've had too many things an' too much +'tention, so it's a good time for you to lead the simple life an' do +without things." + +Genevieve Maud, gazing into her sister's face with big, interested +eyes, was vaguely, subconsciously aware that the new game might halt +this side of perfect content; but she was of an experimental turn and +refrained from expressing any scepticism until she knew what was +coming. In the mean time the eyes of her sister Grace Margaret had +roamed disapprovingly over Genevieve Maud's white dress, the blue sash +that begirded her middle, the rampant bow on her hair. Katie had put on +all these things conscientiously, and had then joyfully freed her mind +from the burden of thought of the child for the rest of the afternoon. + +"Don't you think," Grace Margaret asked Helen Adeline, tentatively, +"sashes an' bows is pomps?" + +Helen Adeline gave the speaker a stolid, unexpressive glance. She +acquiesced. + +"Let's take 'em off," went on the younger and more practical spirit. +"Then we won't never have to tie 'em for her, either, when they get +loose." + +They stripped Genevieve Maud, first of the sash and bows, then of the +white gown, next of her soft undergarments, finally, as zeal waxed, +even of her shoes and stockings. She stood before them clad in +innocence and full of joyful expectation. + +"All these fine clothes is pomps an' vanerties," remarked Helen +Adeline, firmly. "The minister said so when he was talking with mamma +'bout the simple life, an' Gracie and I listened. It was very +interestin'." + +She surveyed the innocent nudity of her little sister, "naked but not +ashamed," with a speculative glance. + +"Katie will be glad, won't she?" she reflected, aloud. "She says +there's too much washing. Now she won't have to do any more for you. +Don't you feel better an' happier without those pomps?" she asked +Genevieve Maud. + +That young person was already rolling on the grass, thrusting her +little toes into the cool earth, exulting in her new-found sartorial +emancipation. If this was the "new game," the new game was a winner. +Grace Margaret, gazing doubtfully at her, was dimly conscious of an +effect of incompleteness. + +"I think she ought to have a hat," she murmured, at last. Helen Adeline +was good-naturedly acquiescent. + +"All right," she answered, cheerfully, "but not a pompy one. Papa's big +straw will do." They found it and put it on the infant, whose eyes and +face were thereby fortunately shaded from the hot glare of the August +sun. Almost before it was on her head she had slipped away and was +running in and out of the shrubbery, her white body flashing among the +leaves. + +"We'll have our luncheon here," announced Helen Adeline, firmly, "an' +I'll bring it out to save Katie trouble. Maudie can't have rich food, +of course, 'cos she's livin' the simple life. We'll give her bread off +a tin plate." + +Grace Margaret looked startled. + +"We haven't got any tin plate," she objected. + +"Rover has." + +Grace Margaret's eyes dropped suddenly, then rose and met her sister's. +An unwilling admiration crept into them. + +"How will Maudie learn nice table manners?" she protested, feebly. +"Mamma says she must, you know." + +"Folks don't have nice table manners when they're livin' simple lives," +announced Helen Adeline, loftily. "They just eat. I guess we won't give +her knives an' forks an' spoons, either." + +Grace Margaret battled with temptation and weakly succumbed. + +"Let's give her some of the rice pudding, though," she suggested. "It +will be such fun to see her eat it, 'specially if it's very creamy!" + +Of further details of that luncheon all three children thereafter +declined to speak. To Genevieve Maud the only point worthy of mention +was that she had what the others had. This compromise effected, the +manner of eating it was to her a detail of indescribable unimportance. +What were knives, forks, spoons, or their lack, to Genevieve Maud? The +tin plate was merely a gratifying novelty, and that she had been in +close communion with rice pudding was eloquently testified by the +samples of that delicacy which clung affectionately to her features and +her fat person during the afternoon. + +While they ate, Helen Adeline's active mind had been busy. She +generously gave her sisters the benefit of its working without delay. + +"She mus'n't have any money," she observed, thoughtfully, following +with unseeing eyes the final careful polish the small tongue of +Genevieve Maud was giving Rover's borrowed plate. "No one has money in +the simple life, so we mus' take her bank an' get all the money out +an'--" + +"Spend it!" suggested Grace Margaret, rapturously, with her second +inspiration. Helen Adeline reflected. The temptation was great, but at +the back of her wise little head lay a dim foreboding as to the +possible consequences. + +"No," she finally decided, consistently. "I guess it mus' be given to +the poor. We'll break the bank an' take it out, an' Maudie can give it +to the poor all by herself. Then if any one scolds, _she_ did it! +You'll enjoy that kind an' noble act, won't you, Maudie?" she added, in +her stateliest grown-up manner. + +Maudie decided that she would, and promptly corroborated Helen +Adeline's impression. The soft August breeze fanned her body, the grass +was cool and fresh under her feet, and her little stomach looked as if +modelled from a football by her ample luncheon. She was to be the +central figure in the distribution of her wealth, and wisdom beyond her +own would burden itself with the insignificant details. Genevieve Maud, +getting together the material for large and slushy mud pies, sang +blithely to herself, and found the simple life its own reward. + +"We'll leave her with her dolls," continued Helen Adeline, "an' we'll +hunt up deservin' poor. Then we'll bring 'em here an' Maudie can give +'em all she has. But first"--her little sharp eyes rested +discontentedly upon Genevieve Maud's family--six dolls reposing in a +blissful row in a pansy-bed--"first we mus' remove _those_ pomps an' +vanerties." + +Grace gasped. + +"Take away the dolls?" she ejaculated, dizzily. + +"No, not edzactly. Jus' take off all their clothes. Don't you think it +looks silly for them to have clothes on when Maudie hasn't any?" + +Grace Margaret agreed that it did, and at once the mistake was +rectified, the clothing was added to the heap of Genevieve Maud's +garments, and a pleasing effect of harmony reigned. The little girls +regarded it with innocent satisfaction. + +"I s'pose we couldn't really take her dolls," reflected Helen Adeline, +aloud. "She'd make an awful fuss, an' she's so good an' quiet now it's +a pity to start her off. But her toys _mus'_ go. They're very +expensive, an' they're pomps an' vanerties, I know. So we'll take 'em +with us an' give 'em to poor children." + +"You think of lots of things, don't you?" gurgled Grace Margaret, with +warm admiration. Her sister accepted the tribute modestly, as no more +than her due. Leaving Genevieve Maud happy with her mud pies and her +stripped dolls, the two sought the nursery and there made a +discriminating collection of her choicest treasures. Her Noah's Ark, +her picture-books, her colored balls and blocks, her woolly lambs that +moved on wheels, her miniature croquet set, all fell into their +ruthless young hands and, as a crowning crime, were dumped into the +little go-cart that was the very apple of Genevieve Maud's round eyes. +It squeaked under its burden as the children drew it carefully along +the hall. They carried it down-stairs with exaggerated caution, but +Genevieve Maud saw it from afar, and, deeply moved by their +thoughtfulness, approached with gurgles of selfish appreciation. The +conspirators exchanged glances of despair. It was the intrepid spirit +of Helen Adeline that coped with the distressing situation. Sitting +down before her victim, she took Maudie's reluctant hands in hers and +gazed deep into her eyes as mamma was wont to gaze into hers on the +various occasions when serious talks became necessary. + +"Now, Genevieve Maud," she began, "you mus' listen an' you mus' mind, +or you can't play. Ain't you havin' a good time? If you don't want to +do what we say, we'll put your clothes right straight on again an' +leave you in the midst of your pomps an' vanerties: an' then--what'll +become of your soul?" She paused impressively to allow this vital +question to make its full appeal. Genevieve Maud writhed and squirmed. + +"But," continued Helen Adeline, solemnly, "if you do jus' as we say, +we'll let you play some more." The larger issue was temporarily lost +sight of this time, but the one presented seemed to appeal vividly to +Genevieve Maud. + +"Let Genevieve Maud play some more," she wheedled. + +"And will you do everything we say?" + +"Do everything you say," promised Genevieve Maud, recklessly. + +"Very well,"--this with a fidelity in its imitation to her mother's +manner which would have convulsed that admirable and long-suffering +woman could she have heard it. "An' first of all we mus' give away your +toys to poor children." + +The mouth of Genevieve Maud opened. Helen Adeline held up a warning +hand, and it shut. + +"They're _pomps_," repeated the older sister, positively, "an' we'll +bring you simple toys if poor children will exchange with us." + +This was at least extenuating. Genevieve Maud hesitated and sniffed. In +the matter of being stripped, toys were more important than clothes. + +"If you don't, you know, you can't play," Grace Margaret reminded her. + +"Awright," remarked Genevieve Maud, briefly. "Give toys to poor +chil'ren." + +They hurriedly left her before her noble purpose could do so, and +Genevieve Maud, left to her own resources, made unctuous mud pies and +fed them to her family. Grace Margaret and Helen Adeline returned in +triumph within the hour and laid at the feet of their small victim +modest offerings consisting of one armless rubber doll, one dirty and +badly torn picture-book, and one top, broken. + +"These is simple," declared Helen Adeline, with truth, "an' the poor +Murphy children has your pomps, Maudie. Are you glad?" + +Genevieve Maud, surveying doubtfully the nondescript collection before +her, murmured without visible enthusiasm something which was +interpreted as meaning that she was glad. As a matter of fact, the +charm of the simple life was not borne in upon her compellingly. The +top she accepted until she discovered that it would not go. The rubber +doll she declined to touch until Grace Margaret suggested that it had +been in a hospital and had had its arms amputated like Mrs. Clark's son +Charlie. Deeply moved by the pathos of this tragic fate, Genevieve Maud +added the rubber doll to her aristocratic family, whose members seemed +to shrink aside as it fell among them. The picture-book she declined to +touch at all. + +"It's dirty," she remarked, with an air of finality which effectually +closed the discussion. By this time she was not herself an especially +effective monument of cleanliness. The rice pudding and the mud pies +had combined to produce a somewhat bizarre effect, and the dirt she had +casually gathered from the paths, the flower-beds, and the hedges +enlivened but did not improve the ensemble. + +"She ought to be washed pretty soon," suggested Grace, surveying her +critically; but to this tacit criticism Helen Adeline promptly took +exception. + +"They don't have to, so much," she objected, "when it's the simple +life. That's one of the nice things." + +With this decision Genevieve Maud was well content. Her tender years +forbade hair-splitting and subtle distinctions; the term "accumulated +dirt" or "old dirt" had no significance for her. She could not have +told why she rejected the Murphy child's thoroughly grimed +picture-book, yet herself rolled happily about in a thin coating of mud +and dust, but she did both instinctively. + +Her attention was pleasantly distracted by subdued cries from the +street beyond the garden hedge. Three Italian women, all old, stood +there gesticulating freely and signalling to the children, and a small +ragged boy on crutches hovered nervously near them. Helen Adeline +jumped to her feet with a sudden exclamation. + +"It's the poor!" she said, excitedly. "For your money, Genevieve Maud. +I told them to come. Get the bank, Gracie, an' she mus' give it all +away!" + +Grace departed promptly on her errand, but there was some delay in +opening the bank when she returned--an interval filled pleasantly by +the visitors with interested scrutiny of the shameless Genevieve Maud, +whose airy unconsciousness of her unconventional appearance uniquely +attested her youth. When the money finally came, rolling out in +pennies, five-cent pieces, and rare dimes, the look of good-natured +wonder in the old black eyes peering wolfishly over the hedge changed +quickly to one of keen cupidity, but the children saw nothing of this. +Helen Adeline divided the money as evenly as she could into four little +heaps. + +"It's all she has," she explained, grandly, "so she's got to give it +all to you, 'cos riches is pomps an' ruins souls. Give it, Genevieve +Maud," she continued, magnanimously surrendering the centre of the +stage to the novice in the simple life. + +Genevieve Maud handed it over with a fat and dirty little paw, and the +women and the lame boy took it uncritically, with words of thanks and +even with friendly smiles. Strangely enough, there was no quarrelling +among themselves over the distribution of the spoils. For one golden +moment they were touched and softened by the gift of the baby hand that +gave its all so generously. Then the wisdom of a speedy disappearance +struck them and they faded away, leaving the quiet street again +deserted. Helen Adeline drew a long breath as the bright gleam of their +kerchiefs disappeared around a corner. + +"That's nice," she exclaimed, contentedly. "Now what else can we make +her do?" + +The two pair of eyes rested meditatively on the unconscious little +sister, again lost to her surroundings in the construction of her +twenty-third mud pie. Not even the surrender of her fortune beguiled +her from this unleavened joy of the simple life. "We've made her do +'mos' everything, I guess," admitted Grace Margaret, with evident +reluctance. It appeared so, indeed. Stripped of her clothing, her money +and her toys, it would seem that little in the way of earthly +possessions was left to Genevieve Maud; but even as they looked again, +Grace Margaret had another inspiration. + +"Don't they work when they have simple lives?" she asked, abruptly. +"'Course they work." + +"Then let's have Genevieve Maud do our work." + +There was silence for a moment--silence filled with the soul-satisfying +enjoyment of a noble conception. + +"Grace Margaret Davenport," said Helen, solemnly, "you're a smart +girl!" She exhaled a happy sigh, and added: "'Course we'll let her! She +mus' work. She can water the geraniums for you an' the pansies for me, +an' gather up the croquet things for me an' take them in, an' fill +Rover's water-basin, an' get seed for the birds, an' pick up all the +paper an' leaves on the lawn." + +It is to be deplored that the active and even strenuous life thus +outlined did not for the moment appeal to Genevieve Maud when they +brought its attractions to her attention. The afternoon was fading, and +Genevieve Maud was beginning to fade, too; her little feet were tired, +and her fat legs seemed to curve more in her weariness of well-doing; +but the awful threat of being left out of the game still held, and she +struggled bravely with her task, while the two arch-conspirators +reposed languidly and surveyed her efforts from beneath the willow-tree. + +"It'll be her bedtime pretty soon," suggested Helen Adeline, the +suspicion of a guilty conscience lurking in the remark. "She can have +her bread and milk like she always does--that's simple 'nuff. But do +you think she ought to sleep in that handsome brass crib?" + +Grace Margaret did not think so, but she was sadly puzzled to find a +substitute. + +"Mamma won't let her sleep anywhere else, either," she pointed out. + +"Mamma won't know." + +"Annie or Katie will know--p'r'aps." + +The "p'r'aps" was tentative. Annie and Katie had taken full advantage +of the liberty attending the illness of their mistress, and their +policy with the children was one of masterly inactivity. So long as the +little girls were quiet they were presumably good, and hence, to a +surety, undisturbed. Still, it is hardly possible that even their +carelessness would fail to take account of Genevieve Maud's unoccupied +bed, if unoccupied it proved to be. + +"An' cert'inly papa will know." + +Helen Adeline's last hope died with this sudden reminder. She sighed. +Of course papa would come to kiss his chicks good-night, but that was +hours hence. Much could be done in those hours. Her problem was +suddenly simplified, for even as she bent her brows and pondered, Grace +Margaret called her attention to an alluring picture behind her. Under +the shelter of a blossoming white hydrangea lay Genevieve Maud fast +asleep. It was a dirty and an exhausted Genevieve Maud, worn with the +heat and toil of the day, scratched by bush and brier, but wonderfully +appealing in her helplessness--so appealing, that Helen Adeline's heart +yearned over her. She conquered the momentary weakness. + +"_I_ think," she suggested, casually, "she ought to sleep in the barn." + +Grace Margaret gasped. + +"It ain't a simple life sleepin' in lovely gardens," continued the +authority, with simple but thrilling conviction. "An'--wasn't the +Infant Jesus born in barns?" + +Grace Margaret essayed a faint protest. + +"Papa won't like it," she began, feebly. + +"He won't know. 'Course we won't let her _stay_ there! But just a +little while, to make it finish right--the way it ought to be." + +The holding up of such lofty ideals of consistency conquered Grace +Margaret--so thoroughly, in fact, that she helped to carry the sleeping +Genevieve Maud not only to the barn, but even, in a glorious +inspiration, to Rover's kennel--a roomy habitation and beautifully +clean. The pair deposited the still sleeping innocent there and stepped +back to survey the effect. Helen Adeline drew a long breath of +satisfaction. "Well," she said, with the content of an artist surveying +the perfect work, "if that ain't simple lives, I don't know what is!" + +They stole out of the place and into the house. The shadows lengthened +on the floor of the big barn, and the voices of the children in the +street beyond grew fainter and finally died away. + +Lights began to twinkle in neighboring windows. Rover, returning from +his friendly visit, sought his home, approached its entrance +confidently, and retreated with a low growl. The baby slept on, and the +dog, finally recognizing his playmate, stretched himself before the +entrance of his kennel and loyally mounted guard, with a puzzled look +in his faithful brown eyes. The older children, lost in agreeable +conversation and the attractions of baked apples and milk toast, wholly +forgot Genevieve Maud and the flying hours. + +It was almost dark when their father came home and, after a visit to +the bedside of his wife, looked to the welfare of his children. The +expression on the faces of the two older ones as they suddenly grasped +the fact of his presence explained in part the absence of the third. +Mr. Davenport had enjoyed the advantages of eleven years of daily +association with his daughter Helen Adeline. + +"Where is she?" he asked, briefly, with a slight prickling of the scalp. + +In solemn procession, in their night-gowns, they led him to her side; +and the peace of the perfumed night as they passed through the garden +was broken with explanations and mutual recriminations and expressions +of unavailing regret. Rover rose as they approached and looked up into +his master's eyes, wagging his tail in eager welcome. + +"Here she is," he seemed to say. "It's all right. _I_ looked after her." + +The father's eyes grew dim as he patted the dog's fine head and lifted +the naked body of his youngest daughter in his arms. Her little body +was cold, and she shivered as she awoke and looked at him. Then she +gazed down into the conscience-stricken faces of her sisters and memory +returned. It drew from her one of her rare spontaneous remarks. + +"Don't yike simple yives," announced Genevieve Maud, with considerable +firmness. "Don't yant to play any more." + +"You shall not, my babykins," promised her father, huskily. "No more +simple life for Genevieve Maud, you may be sure." + +Later, after the hot bath and the supper which both her father and the +trained nurse had supervised, Genevieve Maud was tucked cozily away in +the little brass crib which had earlier drawn out the stern disapproval +of her sisters. Her round face shone with cold cream. A silver mug, +full of milk, stood beside her crib, on her suggestion that she might +become "firsty" during the night. Finding the occasion one of unlimited +indulgence and concession, she had demanded and secured the privilege +of wearing her best night-gown--one resplendent with a large pink bow. +In her hand she clasped a fat cookie. + +Helen Adeline and Grace Margaret surveyed this sybaritic scene from the +outer darkness of the hall. + +"Look at her poor, perishin' body full of comforts," sighed Helen +Adeline, dismally. Then, with concentrated bitterness, "I s'pose we'll +never dare to even _think_ 'bout her soul again!" + + + + +V + +HIS BOY + + +Captain Arthur Hamilton, of the ----th Infantry, moved on his narrow +cot, groaned partly from irritation and partly from pain, muttered a +few inaudible words, and looked with strong disapproval toward the +opening of the hospital tent in which he lay. Through it came the soft +breezes of the Cuban night, a glimpse of brilliantly starred +horizon-line, and the cheerful voice of Private Kelly, raised in song. +The words came distinctly to the helpless officer's reluctant ears. + +"'Oh, Liza, de-ar Liza,'" carolled Kelly, in buoyant response to the +beauty of the evening. + +Captain Hamilton muttered again as he suppressed a seductive desire to +throw something at the Irishman's head, silhouetted against the sky as +he limped past the entrance. Six weeks had elapsed since the battle of +San Juan, in which Hamilton and Kelly had been among the many +grievously hurt. Kelly, witness this needless service of song, was +already convalescent. He could wander from tent to tent in well-meaning +but futile efforts to cheer less fortunate mates. Baker was around +again, too, Hamilton remembered, and Barnard and Hallenbeck and Lee, +and--oh, hosts of others. He ran over their names as he had done +countless times before in the long days and nights which had passed +since he had been "out of it all," as he put it to himself. He alone, +of his fellow officers in the regiment, still lay chained to his +wretched cot, a very log of helplessness, in which a fiery spirit +flamed and consumed. His was not a nature that took gracefully to +inactivity; and of late it had been borne in upon him with a cold, +sickening sense of fear, new, like his helplessness, that inactivity +must be his portion for a long, long time to come. At first the thought +had touched his consciousness only at wide intervals, but now it was +becoming a constant, lurking horror, always with him, or just within +reach, ready to spring. + +He was "out of it all," not for weeks or even for months, but very +possibly for all time. The doctor's reticence told him this; so did his +own sick heart; so did the dutiful cheerfulness of his men and his +brother officers. They overdid it, he realized, and the efforts they so +conscientiously made showed how deep their sympathy must be, and how +tragic the cause of it. His lips twisted sardonically as he remembered +their optimistic predictions of his immediate recovery and the tributes +they paid to his courage in the field. It was true he had distinguished +himself in action (by chance, he assured himself and them), and he had +figured as a hero in the subsequent reports of the battle. But the +other fellows would hardly have bothered to have a trifle like that +mentioned, he told himself, if the little glowing badge of fame he +carried off the field had not been now his sole possession. He had +given more than his life for it. He had sacrificed his career, his +place in the active ranks, his perfect, athletic body. His life would +have been a simple gift in comparison. Why couldn't it have been taken? +he wondered for the hundredth time. Why could not he, like others, have +died gloriously and been laid away with the flag wrapped round him? But +that, he reflected, bitterly, would have been too much luck. Instead, +he must drag on and on and on, of no use to himself or to any one else. + +Again and again he contemplated the dreary outlook, checking off +mentally the details of the past, the depressing experiences to come, +the hopelessness of it all; and as his mind swung wearily round the +small circle he despised himself for the futility of the whole mental +process, and for his inability to fix his thoughts on things other than +his own misfortune. A man paralyzed; a thing dead from the waist +down--that was what he had become. He groaned again as the realization +gnawed at his soul, and at the sound a white-capped nurse rose from a +table where she had been sitting and came to his bedside with a smile +of professional cheerfulness. She had a tired, worn face, and faded +blue eyes, which looked as if they had seen too much of human +suffering. But an indomitable spirit gazed out of them, and spoke, too, +in her alert step and in the fine poise of her head and shoulders. + +"Your mail has come," she told him, "and there seem to be some nice +letters--fat ones. One, from Russia, has a gold crown on the envelope. +Perhaps I had better leave you alone while you read it." + +Hamilton smiled grimly as he held out a languid hand. He liked Miss +Foster. She was a good sort, and she had stood by the boys nobly +through the awful days after the fight. He liked her humor, too, though +he sometimes had suspicions as to its spontaneity. Then his eye fell on +the top envelope of the little package she had given him, and at the +sight of the handwriting he caught his breath, and the blood rushed +suddenly to his face. He closed his eyes for a moment in an effort to +pull himself together. Did he still care, after ten years, and like +that! But possibly, very probably, it was merely a manifestation of his +wretched weakness, which could not endure even a pleasant surprise +without these absurd physical effects. He remembered, with a more +cheerful grin, that he had hardly thought of her at all during the past +year. Preparations for war and his small part in them had absorbed him +heart and soul. He opened the letter without further self-analysis, and +read with deepening interest the closely written lines on the thin +foreign paper, whose left-hand corner held a duplicate of the gold +crown on the envelope. + +"DEAR OLD FRIEND,--You have forgotten me, no doubt, in all these years. +Ten, is it not? But I have not forgotten you, nor my other friends in +America, exile though I am and oblivious though I may have seemed. I do +not know quite why I have not come home for a visit long before this. +Indeed, I have planned to do so from year to year, but a full life and +many varied interests have deferred the journey one way or another. I +have three boys--nine, seven, and five--and it would be difficult to +bring them with me and impossible to leave them behind. So, you see-- + +"But my heart often longs for my native land, and in one tower of this +old castle I have a great room full of souvenirs of home. It is the +spot I love best in my new country. Here I read my mail and write my +letters and follow American news in the newspapers friends send me. +Here, with my boys tumbling over each other before the fireplace, I +read of the ascent of San Juan Hill, and of you, my friend, and your +splendid courage, and your injury. + +"No doubt by the time this letter reaches you you will be well again, +and in no need of my sympathy. But you will let me tell you how proud +of you I am. + +"I read the newspaper accounts to my boys, who were greatly interested +and impressed when they learned that mamma knew the hero. I was much +amused by the youngest, Charlie--too small, I thought, to understand it +all. But he stood before me with his hands on my knees and his big +brown eyes on my face; and when I finished reading he asked many +questions about the war and about you. He is the most American of my +children, and loves to hear of his mother's country. After the others +had gone he cuddled down in my lap and demanded the 'story' repeated in +full; and when I described again the magnificent way in which you saved +your men, he said, firmly, 'I am _his_ boy.' + +"I thought you might be interested in this unsought, spontaneous +tribute, and my purpose in writing is to pass it on to you--though I +admit it has taken me a long time to get 'round to it! + +"You will forgive this rambling letter, and you will believe me, now as +ever, + +"Sincerely your friend, + +"MARGARET CHALLONER VALDRONOVNA." + +Hamilton slowly refolded the letter and returned it to its envelope, +letting the solace of its sweet friendliness sink into his sore heart +the while. She had not wholly forgotten him, then, this beautiful woman +he had loved and who had given him a gracious and charming +_camaraderie_ in return for the devotion of his life. He had not been +senseless enough to misconstrue her feeling, so he had never spoken; +and she, after two brilliant Washington seasons, had married a great +Russian noble and sailed away without suspecting, he felt sure, what +she was to him. He had recovered, as men do, but he had not loved +again, nor had he married. He wondered if she knew. Very probably; for +the newspapers which devoted so much space to his achievements had +added detailed biographical sketches, over which he had winced from +instinctive distaste of such intimate discussion of his personal +affairs. The earlier reports (evidently the ones she had read) had +published misleading accounts of his injuries. They were serious, but +not dangerous, according to these authorities. It was only recently +that rumors of his true condition had begun to creep into print. The +Princess had not read these. Hamilton was glad of that. + +He recalled dreamily the different passages of her letter, the +remainder of his mail lying neglected on his bed. That boy--her +boy--_his_ boy. He smiled to himself, at first with amusement, then +with a sudden tenderness that pleasantly softened his stern lips. He +was weak enough, frightened enough, lonely enough, to grasp with an +actual pitiful throb of the heart this tiny hand stretched out to him +across the sea. He liked that boy--_his_ boy. He must be a fine fellow. +He wondered idly how he looked. "Three boys--nine, seven, five"--yes, +Charlie was five and had great brown eyes. Like his mother's, the +stricken man remembered. She had brown eyes--and such brown eyes. Such +kind, friendly, womanly brown eyes--true mirrors of the strong soul +that looked from them. Something hot and wet stung the surface of +Hamilton's cheek. He touched it unsuspectingly, and then swore alone in +deep, frank self-disgust. + +"Well, of all the sentimental idiots!" he muttered. "My nerves are in a +nice way, when I bawl like a baby because some one sends me a friendly +letter. Guess I'll answer it." + +Miss Foster brought him pen, ink, and paper, and he began, writing with +some difficulty, as he lay flat on his back. + +"MY DEAR PRINCESS,--Your letter has just reached me, and you cannot, I +am sure, imagine the cheer and comfort it brought. I am still lingering +unwillingly on the sick-list, but there is some talk now of shipping me +north on the _Relief_ next week, when I hope to give a better account +of myself. In the mean time, and after, I shall think much of you and +the boys, especially of the youngest and his flattering adoption of me. +I am already insufferably proud of that, and rather sentimental as +well, as you will see by the fact that I want his photograph! Will you +send it to me, in care of the Morton Trust Company, New York? I do not +yet know just where I shall be. + +"There is a pleasant revelation of well-being and happiness between the +lines of your letter. Believe me, I rejoice in both. + +"Faithfully yours, + +"ARTHUR HAMILTON." + +As he read it over the letter seemed curt and unsatisfactory, but he +was already exhausted and had not the strength to make another effort. +So he wearily sealed and addressed it, and gave it to Miss Foster for +the next mail. Her tired eyes widened a little as she artlessly read +the inscription. + +During the seemingly endless days and nights that followed, Hamilton +battled manfully but despairingly with his sick soul. Wherever he +looked there was blackness, lightened once or twice, and for an instant +only, by a sudden passing memory of a little child. It would be too +much to say that the memory comforted him. Nothing could do that, yet. +All he dared hope for was for the strength to go through his ordeal +with something approaching manliness and dignity. The visits of his +friends were a strain to him, as well as to them, and it was sadly easy +to see how the sense of his hopeless case depressed them. He could +imagine the long breath they drew as they left his tent and found +themselves again in the rich, warm, healthy world. He did not blame +them. In their places, he would no doubt have felt just the same. But +he was inevitably driven more and more into himself, and in his dogged +efforts to get away from self-centred thought he turned with a sturdy +determination to fancies about remote things, and especially to +imaginings of the boy--the little fellow who loved him, and who, thank +God, was not as yet "sorry for him!" Oddly enough, the mother seemed to +have taken her place in the background of Hamilton's thoughts. It was +her son who appealed to him--the innocent man-child, half American, +half Russian, entering so happily and unconsciously on the enhanced +uncertainties of life in the tragic land of his birth. + +During the trying, stormy voyage north on the great hospital ship, +Hamilton had strange, half-waking visions of a curly headed lad with +brown eyes, tumbling over a bear-skin rug in front of a great +fireplace, or standing at his mother's knee looking into her face as +she talked of America and of an American soldier. He began to fancy +that the vision held at bay the other crowding horrors which lay in +wait. If he could keep his mind on that he was safe. He was glad the +mother and son could not, in their turn, picture him--as he was. + +When the photographs arrived, soon after he reached New York, the +helpless officer opened the bulky package with eager ringers. There +were two "cabinets," both of the child. One showed him at the tender +age of two, a plump, dimpled, beautiful baby, airily clad in an +embroidered towel. The second was apparently quite recent. A +five-year-old boy, in black velvet and a bewildering expanse of lace +collar, looked straight out of the picture with tragic dark eyes, whose +direct glance was so like his mother's that ten years seemed suddenly +obliterated as Hamilton returned their gaze. With these was a little +letter on a child's note-paper, in printed characters which reeled +drunkenly down the page from left to right. Hamilton read it with a +chuckle. + +"DEAR CAPTAIN HAMILTON,--I love you very much. I love you becos you +fought in the war. I have your picture. I have put a candle befront of +your picture. The candle is burning. I love you very much. Your boy, + +"CHARLIE." + +Accompanying this epistolary masterpiece was a brief note from the +writer's mother, explaining that the "picture" of Captain Hamilton, of +whose possession her infant boasted, had been cut from an illustrated +newspaper and pasted on stiff card-board in gratification of the +child's whim. + +"He insists on burning a candle before it," she wrote, "evidently from +some dim association with tapers and altars and the rest. As it is all +a new manifestation of his character, we are indulging him freely. +Certainly it can do him no harm to love and admire a brave man. +Besides, to have a candle burned for you! Is not that a new flutter of +glory?" + +Hamilton, still in the grasp of a dumb depression he would voice to no +one, was a little amused and more touched. In his hideous loneliness +and terror the pretty incident, one he would have smiled at and +forgotten a year ago, took on an interest out of all proportion to its +importance. He felt a sudden, unaccountable sense of pleasant +companionship. The child became a loved personality--the one human, +close, vital thing in a world over which there seemed to hang a thick +black fog through which Hamilton vaguely, wretchedly groped. He himself +did not know why the child interested him so keenly, nor did he try to +analyze the fact. He was merely grateful for it, and for the other fact +that he cherished no sentimental feeling for the boy's mother. That had +passed out of his life as everything else had seemingly passed which +belonged to the old order of things. He had always been a calm, +reserved, self-absorbed, unemotional type of man, glorying a little, +perhaps, in his lack of dependence on human kind. In his need he had +turned to his fellows and turned in vain. Now that a precious thing had +come to him unsought, he did not intend to lose it. + +Through his physicians he pulled various journalistic wires, resulting +in the suppression, in the newspapers, of the hopeless facts of his +case. He did not intend, he decided, to have his boy think of him as +tied to an invalid's couch. Then, knowing something of human nature, +and of the evanescent character of childish fancies, he ordered shipped +to Russia a variety of American mechanical toys, calculated to swell +the proud bosom of the small boy who received them. This shameless bid +for continued favor met with immediate success. An ecstatic, incoherent +little shriek of delight came from the land of the czar in the form of +another letter; and the candle, which quite possibly would have burned +low or even gone out, blazed up cheerily again. + +That was the beginning of an intercourse which interested and diverted +Hamilton for months. He spared no pains to adapt his letters to the +interest and comprehension of his small correspondent, and he derived a +quite incredible amount of satisfaction from the childish scrawls which +came to him in reply. They were wholly babyish documents, about the +donkey, the nurse, the toys, and games of the small boy's daily life. +Usually they were written in his own printed letters. Sometimes they +were dictated to his mother, who faithfully reported every weighty word +that fell from the infant's lips. But always they were full of the +hero-worship of the little child for the big, strong, American +fighting-man; and in every letter, sometimes in the beginning, +sometimes at the end, occasionally in both places, as the enthusiasm of +the writer waxed, was the satisfying assurance, "_I am your boy._" +Hamilton's eyes raced over the little pages till he found that line, +and there rested contentedly. + +As the months passed, the healing influence of time wrought its +effects. Hamilton, shut in though he was, adapted himself to the narrow +world of an invalid's room and its few interests. With the wealth he +had fortunately inherited he brought to his side leading specialists +who might possibly help him, and went through alternate ecstatic hopes +and abysmal fears as the great men came and departed. Very quietly, +too, he helped others less fortunate, financially, than himself. The +nurses and physicians in the hospital where he lay learned to like and +admire him, and other patients, convalescents or newcomers who were +able to move about, sought his cheerful rooms and brought into them a +whiff of the outside world. Through it all, winding in and out of the +neutral-colored weeks like a scarlet thread of life and hope, came the +childish letters from Russia, and each week a thick letter went back, +artfully designed to keep alive the love and interest of an imaginative +little boy. + +At the end of six months young Charles fell from his donkey and broke +his left arm, but this trivial incident was not allowed to interfere +with the gratifying regularity with which his letters arrived. It was, +however, interesting, as throwing a high light on the place his +American hero held in the child's fancy. His mother touched on this in +her letter describing the accident. + +"The arm had to be set at once," she wrote, "and of course it was very +painful. But I told Charlie you would be greatly disappointed if your +boy were not brave and did not obey the doctor. He saw the force of +this immediately, and did not shed a tear, though his dear little face +was white and drawn with pain." + +Master Charlie himself discussed the same pleasant incident in the +first letter he dictated after the episode. + +"I did not cry," he mentioned, with natural satisfaction. "Mamma cried, +and Sonya cried. Men do not cry. Do they? You did not cry when you were +hurt, did you? I am going to be just like you." + +Hamilton laughed over the letter, his pale cheek flushing a little at +the same time. He _had_ cried, once or twice; he recalled it now with +shame. He must try to do better, remembering that he loomed large as a +heroic model for the young. + +He was still reading the little letter when Dr. Van Buren, his +classmate at the Point, his one intimate since then, and his physician +now, entered the room, greeted him curtly, and stood at the window for +a moment, drumming his fingers fiercely against the pane. Hamilton knew +the symptoms; Van Buren was nervous and worried about something. He +dropped the small envelope into his lap and looked up. + +"Well?" he said, tersely. + +Van Buren did not answer for a moment. Then he turned, crossed the room +abruptly, and sat down near the reclining-chair in which the officer +spent his days. The physician's face was strained and pale. His glance, +usually direct, shifted and fell under his friend's inquiring gaze. + +"Well?" repeated the latter, compellingly. "I suppose you fellows have +been talking me over again. What's the outcome?" + +Van Buren cleared his throat. + +"Yes, we--we have, old man," he began, rather huskily--"in there, you +know." He indicated the direction of the consulting-room as he spoke. +"We don't like the recent symptoms." + +Unconsciously, Hamilton straightened his shoulders. + +"Out with it. Don't mince matters, Frank. Do you think life is so +precious a thing to me that I can't part with it if I've got to?" + +Van Buren writhed in his chair. + +"It isn't that," he said, "life or death. It's wor--I mean, it's +different. It's--it's these." He laid his hand on the officer's +helpless legs, stretched out stiffly under a gay red afghan. "God!" he +broke out, suddenly, "I don't know how you'll take it, old chap; and +there's no sense in trying to break a thing like this gently. We're +afraid--we think--they'll--have to come off!" + +Under the shock of it Hamilton set his teeth. + +"Why?" he asked, quietly. + +"Because--well, because they're no good. They're dead. They're a +constant menace to you. A scratch or injury of any kind--they've got to +go--that's all, Arthur. But we've been talking it over and we can fix +you up so you can get about and be much better off than you are now." +He leaned forward as he spoke, and his words came quickly and eagerly. +The worst was over; he was ready to picture the other side. Hamilton +stopped him with a gesture. + +"Suppose I decline to let them go?" he asked, grimly. + +Van Buren stared at him. + +"You can't!" he stammered. + +"Why not?" + +"Because--why, because your life depends on their coming off!" + +Hamilton's lips set. + +"My _life!_" he repeated. "My precious, glad, young life! So full of +happiness! So useful!" He dropped the savagely bitter tone suddenly. +"No, Frank," he said, quietly, "I won't go through life as the half of +a man. I'll let the thing take its course; or if that will be too slow +and too--horrible, I'll help the hobbling beast on its way. I think I'd +be justified. It's too much to ask--you know it--to be hoisted through +life as a remnant." + +Van Buren rose, moved his chair nearer to Hamilton's, and sat down +close to his friend's side. All nervousness had left him. He was again +cool, scientific, professional; but with it all there was the deep +sympathy and understanding of a friend. + +"No, you won't," he said, firmly; "you won't do anything of the kind, +and I'll tell you why you won't. Because it isn't in your make-up to +play the coward. That's why. You've got to go through with it and take +what comes, and do it all like the strong chap you are. If you think +there won't be anything left in life, you are mistaken. You can be of a +lot of use; you can do a lot of good. You will have time and +inclination and money. You will be able to get around, not as quickly, +but as surely. With a good man-servant you'll be entirely independent +of drafts on charity or pity. Money has some beautiful uses. If you +were a poor devil who hadn't a cent in the world and would be dependent +on the grudging service of others, I should wish you to accept and +bear, perhaps, but I could not urge you to. Now, your life is helpful +to others. You can give and aid and bless. You can be a greater hero +than the man who went up San Juan Hill, and there are those who will +feel it." + +"That is, my money is needed, and because I've got it I should drag out +years of misery while I spread little financial poultices on other +people's ills," returned Hamilton. "No, thanks; it's not enough good. +They can have the money just the same. That can be amputated with +profit to all concerned. I'll leave it to hospitals and homes for the +helpless, especially for fractional humanity--needy remnants. But I +decline absolutely, once and for all, to accept the noble future you +have outlined. I grant you it would be heroic. But have you ever heard +of great heroism with no stimulus to arouse it?" + +He raised his hand as he spoke, and brought it down with a gesture of +finality. As it fell, it dropped on the little letter. Mechanically, +his fingers closed on it. + +His boy! His brave little boy who had not flinched or cried, because he +meant to be just like Captain Hamilton. What would _he_ think when the +truth came to him years hence, as it must do. What would she think now, +the mother who was glad that her son should "love and admire a brave +man"? The small missive was a stimulus. + +Hamilton turned to Van Buren again, checking with a little shake of the +head the impetuous speech that rushed to that gentleman's lips. + +"Just wait one moment," he said, thoughtfully. He leaned back and shut +his eyes, and as he did so the familiar scene of months past came +suddenly before them--the quaint old foreign room, the great fireplace +with its blazing logs, the mother, the curly haired boy. His life had +been a lonely one, always, Hamilton reflected. Few, pathetically few, +so far as he knew, would be affected by its continuance or its end. But +the _manner_ of its end--that was a different matter. That might touch +individuals far and wide by its tragic example to other desperate +souls. Still, he was not their keeper. As for Charlie-- + +Ah, _Charlie!_ Charlie, with his childish but utter hero-worship; +Charlie, with his lighted candle; Charlie, with his small-boy love and +trust--Charlie would be told some little story and Charlie would soon +forget. But--what would Charlie think of him some day when the truth +was out--Charlie who at five could set his teeth and bear pain +stoically because his hero did! Because he was "His Boy!" Hamilton's +mind returned to that problem again and again and lingered there. No, +he could not disappoint Charlie. Besides, Van Buren was right. There +was work, creditable work to do. And to be plucky, even if only to keep +a brave little chap's ideal intact, to maintain its helpful activity, +was something worthy of a stanch man. Would he wish his boy to go under +when the strain against the right thing was crushing? + +He laid the letter down gently, deliberately, turned to his friend, and +smiled as Van Buren had not seen him smile since their ingenuous +boyhood days. There was that sweetness in the smile which homage to +woman makes us dub "feminine," and something of it, too, in the way he +laid his hand on his chum's shoulder. + +"All right, old sawbones," he said, slowly. "You may do whatever has to +be done. I'll face the music. Unbuilding one man may build up another." + + + + +VI + +THE COMMUNITY'S SUNBEAM + + +Miss Clarkson looked at the small boy, and the small boy looked back at +Miss Clarkson with round, unwinking eyes. In the woman's glance were +sympathy and a puzzled wonder; the child's gaze expressed only a calm +and complete detachment. Subtly, but unmistakably, he succeeded in +conveying the impression that he regarded this human object before him +because it was in his line of vision, but that he found no interest in +it, nor good reason for assuming an interest he did not feel: that if, +indeed, he was conscious of any emotion at all, it was in the nature of +a vaguely dawning desire that the object should remove itself, should +cease to shut off the view from the one window of the tenement room +that was his home. But it really did not matter much. Already, in his +seven years of life, the small boy had decided that nothing really +mattered much, and his dark, grim little face, with its deep-cut, +unchildish lines, bore witness to the unwavering strength of this +conviction. If the object preferred to stay--He settled himself more +firmly on the rickety chair he occupied, crossed his feet with infinite +care, and continued to regard the object with eyes that held the +invariable expression with which they met the incidents of life, +whether these incidents were the receiving of a banana from Miss +Clarkson's hands, or, as had happened half an hour before, the +spectacle of his dead mother being carried down-stairs. + +It was not a stupid look; it was at once intent, unsympathetic, +impersonal. Under it, now, its object experienced a moment of actual +embarrassment. Miss Clarkson was not accustomed to the indifferent gaze +of human eyes, and in her philanthropic work among the tenements she +had been somewhat conspicuously successful with children. They seemed +always to like her, to accept her; and if her undoubted charm of face, +of dress, and of smile failed to win them, Miss Clarkson was not above +resorting to the aid of little gifts, of toys, even to the pernicious +power of pennies. She did good, but she did it in her own way. She was +young, she was rich, she was independent. She helped the poor because +she pitied them, and wished to aid them, but her methods were unique, +and were followed none the less serenely when, as frequently happened, +they conflicted with all the accepted notions of organized philanthropy. + +She had come to this room almost daily, Miss Clarkson remembered, since +she had discovered the destitute Russian woman and her child there a +month ago. The mother was dying of consumption; the child was neglected +and hungry--yet both had an unmistakable air of birth, of breeding; and +the mother's French was as perfect as the exquisitely finished manner +that drew from Anne Clarkson, in the wretched tenement room, her utmost +deference and courtesy. The child, too, had glints of polish. +Punctiliously he opened doors, placed chairs, bowed; punctiliously he +stood when the lady stood, sat when the lady sat, met her requests for +small services with composure and appreciation. And (here was the rub) +each time she came, bringing in her generous wake the comforts that +lightened his mother's dreary journey into another world, he received +her with the air of one courteously greeting a stranger, or, at best, +of one seeking an elusive memory as one surveys a half-familiar face. + +Doggedly Anne Clarkson had persisted in her attentions to them both. +The mother was grateful--there was no doubt of that. Under the +ministrations of the nurse Miss Clarkson supplied, under the influence +of food, of medicines, and of care, she brightened out of the apathy in +which her new friend had found her. But to the last she retained +something of her son's unresponsiveness, and an uncommunicativeness +which tagged his as hereditary. She never spoke of herself, of her +friends, or of her home. She made no last requests, left no last +messages. Once, as she looked at her boy, her eyeballs exuded a film of +moisture. Miss Clarkson interpreted this phenomenon rightly, and +quietly said: + +"I will see that he is well cared for." The sick woman gave her a long +look, and then nodded. + +"You will," she answered. "You are not of those who promise and do not +perform. You are very good--you have been very good to us. Your reward +should come. It does not always come to those who are good, but it +should come to you. You should marry and have children, and leave this +terrible country, and be happy." + +The words impressed Miss Clarkson, because, as she reminded herself +now, they were almost the last her protegee uttered. She considered +them excessively unmodern, and strongly out of place on the lips of one +whose romance had ended in disillusionment. + +Well, it was over. The mother was gone. But the child remained, and his +future--his immediate future, at least--must be decided here and now. +With a restless movement Anne Clarkson leaned toward him. In her +abstraction she had shifted her glance from him for a few moments, and +he had taken advantage of the interval to survey dispassionately the +toes of the new shoes she had given to him. He glanced up now, and met +her look with the singular unresponsiveness which seemed his note. + +"We're going away, Ivan," she said, speaking with that artificial +cheerfulness practised so universally upon the helpless and the young. +"Mother has gone, you know, and we can't stay here any more. We're +going to the country, to a beautiful place where there are flowers, and +birds, and dogs, and other little boys and girls. So get your cap, +dear." + +Ivan looked unimpressed, but he rose with instant obedience and crossed +the room to its solitary closet. His little figure looked very trim in +the new suit she had bought for him; she noticed how well he carried +himself. His preparations for departure were humorously simple. He took +his cap from its peg, put it on his head, and opened the door for her +to precede him in the utter abandonment of his "home." Earlier in the +day Miss Clarkson had presented to pleased neighbors the furniture and +clothing of the dead woman, taking the precaution to have it fumigated +in an empty room in the building. On the same impulse she had given to +an old bedridden Irishwoman a few little articles that had soothed the +Russian's last days: a small night-lamp, a bed-tray, and the like. +Ivan's outfit, consisting solely of the things she herself had given +him, had been packed in his mother's one small foreign trunk, whose +contents until then, Miss Clarkson, observed, was an ikon, quaintly +framed. Of letters, of souvenirs, of any clue of any kind to the +identity of mother and son, there was none. She felt sure that the +names they had given her were assumed. + +Stiffly erect, Ivan waited beside the open door. Miss Clarkson gave a +methodical last look around the dismantled room, and walked out of it, +the child following. At the top of the stairs she turned her head +sharply, a sudden curiosity uppermost in her mind. Was he glancing +back? she wondered. Was he showing any emotion? Did he feel any? He +seemed so horribly mature--he _must_ understand something of what this +departure meant. Did he, by chance, need comforting? But Ivan was close +by her side, his sombre black eyes looking straight before him, his new +shoes creaking freshly as he descended the rickety steps. Miss Clarkson +sighed. If only he were pretty, she reflected. There were always +sentimental women ready and willing to adopt a handsome child. But even +Ivan's mother would have declared him not pretty. He was merely small, +and dark, and foreign, and reserved, and horribly self-contained. His +black hair was perfectly straight, his lips made a straight line in his +face. He had no dimples, no curls, none of the appealing graces and +charms of childhood. He was seven--seven decades, she almost thought, +with a sudden throb of pity for him. But he had one quality of +childhood--helplessness. To that, at least, the Community to which she +had finally decided to intrust him would surely respond. She took his +small hand in hers as they reached the street, and after an instinctive +movement of withdrawal, like the startled fluttering of a bird, he +suffered it to remain there. Together they walked to the nearest +corner, and stood awaiting the coming of a trolley-car, the heat of an +August sun blazing upon them, the stifling odors of the tenement +quarter filling their nostrils. Rude, half-naked little boys jeered at +them, and made invidious remarks about Ivan's new clothes; a small girl +smiled shyly at him; a wretched yellow dog snapped at his heels. To +these varying attentions the child gave the same quietly observant +glance, a glance without rancor as without interest. Miss Clarkson +experienced a sense of utter helplessness as she watched him. + +"Did you know the little girl, Ivan?" she asked, in English. + +"Yes, madam." + +"Do you like her?" + +"No, madam." + +"Why not? She seemed a nice little girl." + +There was no response. She tried again. + +"Are you tired, dear?" + +"No, madam." + +"Are you glad you are going into the country and away from the hot, +dirty city?" + +"No, madam." + +"Would you rather stay here?" + +"No, madam." + +The quality of the negative was the same in all. + +Miss Clarkson gave him up. When they entered the car she sank into a +depressed silence, which endured until they reached the Grand Central +Station. There, after she had sent off several telegrams and bought +their tickets, and established herself and her charge comfortably side +by side on the end seat in a drawing-room car, she again essayed +sprightly conversation adapted to the understanding of the young. + +"Do you know the country, Ivan?" she asked, ingratiatingly. "Have you +ever been there to see the grass and the cows and the blue skies?" + +"No, madam." + +"You will like them very much. All little boys and girls like the +country, and are very happy there." + +"Yes, madam." + +"Do you like to play?" + +"No, madam." + +"Do you like to--to--look at picture-books?" + +"No, madam." + +"What do you like to do?" + +There was no reply. Miss Clarkson groaned inwardly. Was he only a +little monosyllabic machine? The infant regarded with calm eyes the +sweep of the New York landscape across which the train was passing. His +patron opened the new novel with which she had happily provided +herself, plunged into its pages, and let herself rest by forgetting him +for a while. He sat by her side motionless, observant, continuing to +exude infinite patience. + +"He ought to be planted on the Egyptian sands," reflected Miss Clarkson +once, as she glanced at him. "He'd make a dear little brother to the +Sphinx." She stopped a train-boy passing through the car and bought him +a small box of chocolates, which he ate uninterruptedly, somewhat as +the tiny hand of a clock marks the seconds. Later she presented him +with a copy of a picture-paper. He surveyed its illustrations with +studious intentness for five minutes, and then laid the paper on the +seat beside him. Miss Clarkson again fled to sanctuary in her novel, +wondering how long pure negation could enlist interest. + +At the small station where they left the train the tension of the +situation was slightly lessened. A plump little woman, with a round +pink face, keen, very direct blue eyes, and live gray hair, deftly +tooled a fat pony up to the asphalt, and greeted them with cheerful +informality. + +"Get in," she said, briskly, after a brief handshake with Miss +Clarkson. "There's plenty of room in the phaeton. We pack five in +sometimes. I was sorely tempted to bring two of the children; they +begged to come to meet the new boy; but it seemed best not to rush him +in the beginning, don't you know, so I left Josephine squalling behind +the wood-pile, and Augustus Adolphus strangling manfully on a glass of +lemonade intended to comfort him." + +She laughed as she spoke, but her blue eyes surveyed the boy +appraisingly as she tucked him into the space between herself and Miss +Clarkson. He had stood cap in hand during the meeting between the +ladies; now he replaced his cap upon his head, fixed his black eyes on +the restless tail of the fat pony, and remained submerged under the +encroaching summer garments of both women. Mrs. Eltner, presiding +genius of the Lotus Brotherhood Colony, exchanged an eloquent glance +with Miss Clarkson as she started the pony along the winding ribbon of +the country road. The New-Yorker's heart lightened. She had infinite +faith in the plump, capable hands that held the reins; she believed +them equal to anything, even to the perplexing task of guiding the +infant career of Ivanovitch. Mrs. Eltner prattled on. + +"Well," she quoted, in answer to Miss Clarkson's question, "they are so +well that Fraulein von Hoffman is in despair over them. She has some +new theories she's anxious to try when they're ill, but throughout the +year she hasn't had one chance. Every blessed child is flamboyantly +robust. Goodness! Why shouldn't they be? In the sunshine from eight in +the morning until six at night. They have their lessons in a little +roofed summer-house in the open air, their meals in another, and they +almost sleep in the open air. There are ten of them now--counting your +boy"--she nodded toward the unconscious Ivan--"four girls and six boys. +None of the parents interferes with them. They sleep in the dormitory +with Fraulein, she teaches them a few hours a day, and the rest of the +time we leave them alone. Fraulein assures me that the influence on +their developing souls is wonderful." Mrs. Eltner laughed comfortably. +"It's all an experiment," she went on, more seriously. "Who can tell +how it will end? But one thing is certain: we have taken these poor +waifs from the New York streets, and we have at least made them healthy +and happy to begin with. The rest must come later." + +"An achievement," agreed Miss Clarkson. "I hope you will be as +successful with my small charge. He is not healthy, and I doubt if he +has ever known a moment of happiness. Possibly he can never take it in. +I don't know--he puzzles me." + +Her friend nodded, and they drove on in silence. It was almost sunset +when the fat pony turned into an open gate leading to a big white +colonial house, whose wide verandas held hammocks, easy-chairs, and one +fat little girl asleep on a door-mat. On the sweeping lawn before the +house an old man lounged comfortably in a garden-chair, surveying with +quiet approval the efforts of a pretty girl in a wide sunbonnet who was +weeding a flower-bed near him. Through the open window of a distant +room came the sound of a piano. At the left of the house a solitary +peacock strutted, his spreading tail alive in the sun's last rays. The +effect of the place was deliriously "homey." With eyes slightly +distended, Ivan surveyed the monstrous fowl, turning his head to follow +its progress as the phaeton rolled around the drive and stopped before +the wide front door. The two women again exchanged glances. + +"Absolutely the first evidence of human interest," remarked Miss +Clarkson, with hushed solemnity. The other smiled with quiet +confidence. "It will come," she predicted; "it will come all right. We +do wonders with them here." + +As they entered the wide hall a picturesque group disintegrated +suddenly. A slender German woman, tall, gray-haired, slightly bent, +detached herself from an encircling mass of childish hands and arms and +legs, gave a hurried greeting to Miss Clarkson, of whom she rather +disapproved, and turned eyes alight with interest on the new claimant +for her ministrations. Cap in hand, Ivan looked up at her. Mrs. Eltner +introduced them briefly. + +"Your new little boy, Fraulein," she said, "Ivan Ivanovitch. He speaks +English and French and Russian. He is going to love his new teacher and +his new little friends, and be very happy here." + +Fraulein von Hoffman bent down and kissed the chilling surface of +Ivan's pale cheek. + +"But yes," she cried, "of a certainty he shall be happy. We are all +happy here--all, all. He shall have his place, his lessons, his little +duties--but, ach, he is so young! He is the youngest of us. Still, he +must have his duty." She checked her rapid English for a courteous +explanation to Miss Clarkson. + +"Each has his duties," she told that lady, while the line of children +lent polite interest to her words, drinking them in, apparently, with +open mouths. "Each of us must be useful to the community in some way, +however small. That is our principle. Yes. Little Josephine waters +every day the flowers in the dining-room, and they bloom gratefully for +little Josephine--ach, how they bloom! Augustus Adolphus keeps the +wood-box filled. It is Henry's task to water the garden plants, and +Henry never forgets. So, too, it is with the others. But Ivan--Ivan is +very young. He is but seven, you say. Yes, yes, what shall one do at +seven?" + +Her rapid, broken English ceased again as she surveyed the child, her +blond brows knit in deep reflection. Then her thin face lit suddenly. + +"Ach," she cried, enthusiastically, "an inspiration I have! He is too +young to work as yet, this little Ivan, but he shall have his task, +like the rest. He shall be our little sunbeam. He shall laugh and play +and make us happy." + +With a common hysterical impulse Miss Clarkson and Mrs. Eltner turned +their heads to avoid each other's eyes, the former making a desperate +effort at self-control as she gazed severely through a window near her. +It was not funny, this thing, she reminded herself sternly; it was too +ghastly to be funny, but there was no question that the selection of +Ivan Ivanovitch as the joyous, all-pervasive sunbeam of the community +at Locust Hall was slightly incongruous. When she could trust herself +she glanced at him. He stood as he had stood before, his small, old, +unchildish face turned up to the German, his black eyes fixed +unwaveringly upon her gray ones. Under the glance Fraulein's expression +changed. For an instant there was a look of bewilderment on her face, +of a doubt of the wisdom of her choice of a mission for this unusual +new-comer, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come. With recovered +serenity she addressed him and those around him. + +"But he need not begin to-night," she added, kindly, "not when he is +tired. He shall eat, he shall rest, he shall sleep. Then to-morrow he +shall take his place among us and be the little sunbeam. Yes, +yes--think how far the sunbeam has to travel!" she murmured, +inspirationally. + +Miss Clarkson knelt down before the boy and gathered him into her arms. +The act was spontaneous and sincere, but as she did it she realized +that in the eyes of the German, and even in those of Mrs. Eltner, it +seemed theatrical. It was one of the things Fraulein von Hoffman +disapproved in her--this tendency to moments of emotion. + +"Good-night, Ivan," she said. "I am going to stay until morning, so I +shall see you then. Sleep well. I am sure you will be a happy little +boy in this pleasant home." + +The unfathomable eyes of Ivan Ivanovitch looked back into hers. + +"Good-night, madam," he said, quietly. Then, as she was about to turn +away, his small face took on for an instant the dawn of an expression. +"Good-night, madam," he said again, more faintly. + +Slight as the change had been, Miss Clarkson caught it. She swayed +toward him. + +"Are you homesick, Ivan?" she asked, caressingly, almost lovingly. +"Would you like me to take you up-stairs and put you to bed?" + +Fraulein von Hoffman broke in upon her speech. + +"But they shall all go!" she cried. "It is their time. He will not be +alone. Josephine shall take him by the hand; Augustus Adolphus shall +lead the way. It will be a little procession--ach, yes! And he shall +have his supper in the nursery." + +A chubby, confident little girl of nine detached herself from the group +near them and grasped the hand of Ivan Ivanovitch firmly within her +own. He regarded her stoically for an instant; then his eyes returned +to Miss Clarkson's, who had risen, and was watching him closely. There +was a faint flicker in them as he replied to her question. + +"No, madam," he said, gravely. "Thank you, madam. Good-night, madam." + +He bowed deeply, drawing the reluctant figure of the startled Josephine +into the salute as he did so. A sturdy German boy of eleven, with +snapping brown eyes, placed himself before the children, his feet +beating time, his head very high. "Forward, march!" he cried, in clear, +boyish tones. The triumphant Josephine obeyed the command, dragging her +charge after her. Thus convoyed, one companion leading, another +pulling, the rest following with many happy giggles, Ivan Ivanovitch +marched up-stairs to bed. His life as the community's sunbeam had begun. + +The next morning Fraulein von Hoffman met Miss Clarkson in the hall, +and turned upon her the regard of a worried gray eye. Miss Clarkson +returned the look, her heart sinking as she did so. + +"It is that child," the German began. "He is of an interest--and ach, +ja! of a discouragement," she added, with a gusty sigh. "Already I can +see it--what it will be. He speaks not; he plays not. He gazes always +from the window, and when one speaks, he says, 'Yes, madam'--only that. +This morning I looked to see him bright and happy, but it is not so. Is +it that his little heart breaks for his mother? Is it--that he is +always thus?" + +Miss Clarkson shook her head and then nodded, forming thereby +unconsciously the sign of the cross. The combination seemed to answer +the German's questions. Fraulein von Hoffman nodded also, slowly, and +with comprehension. + +"I don't know what you can do with him," said the American, frankly. +"He's like that all the time. I asked his mother, and she admitted it. +I brought him here because I hoped the other children might brighten +him up, and I knew you could arouse him if any one could." + +The tribute, rare from Miss Clarkson, cheered Fraulein von Hoffman. Her +face cleared. She began to regain her self-confidence. + +"Ach, well," she said, comfortably, "we will see. We will do our +best--yes, of a certainty. And we will see." She strolled away after +this oracular utterance, and Miss Clarkson went to breakfast. Thus +neither witnessed a scene taking place at that moment on the lawn near +the front veranda. Standing there with his back against a pillar, +surrounded by the other children of the community, was Ivan Ivanovitch. +In the foreground, facing him, stood Augustus Adolphus, addressing the +new-comer in firm accents, and emphasizing his remarks by waving a +grimy forefinger before Ivan Ivanovitch's uninterested face. The high, +positive tones of Augustus Adolphus filled the air. + +"Well, then, why don't you do it?" he was asking, fiercely. "You _got_ +to do it! You _have_ to! Fraulein says so. The rest of us has to do +ours. I filled my wood-boxes already, and Josie watered the flowers. We +did it early so we could watch you being a sunbeam, and now you ain't +being one. Why ain't you? You _got_ to! Why don't you begin?" The +continued unresponsiveness of Ivan Ivanovitch irritated him at this +point, and he turned excitedly to the others for support. + +"'Ain't he got to?" he cried. "'Ain't he got to be a sunbeam? Fraulein +said he should begin this morning. Well, then, why don't he begin?" + +A childish buzz of corroboration answered him. It was plain that the +assignment of Ivan's mission, publicly made as it had been the night +before, had deeply impressed the children of the community. They closed +around the two boys. The small Josephine laid a propelling hand upon +Ivan's shoulder and tried to push him forward, with a vague idea of +thus accelerating his task. + +"Begin now," she suggested, encouragingly. "Do it, and have it over. +That's the way I do." + +In response to this maiden appeal the lips of Ivan Ivanovitch parted. + +"I do not know how to do it," he announced, distinctly. "How shall I do +it?" + +Augustus Adolphus broke in again. "Aw, say, go on," he urged. "You +_got_ to do it! Why _don't_ you, then?" + +Ivan Ivanovitch turned upon him an eye in which the habitual expression +of patience was merely intensified. + +"I do not know how to do it," he said again, speaking slowly and +painstakingly. "You tell me how; then I will do it." + +Under the force of this counter-charge, Augustus Adolphus fell back. + +"I--I--don't know, neither," he muttered, feebly. "I thought you knew. +You _got_ to know, 'cause you got to do it." + +The eyes of the small Russian swept the little group, and lingered on +the round face of Josephine. + +"You tell me," he said to her. "Then I will do it." + +Josephine rose to the occasion. + +"Why, why," she began, doubtfully, "_I_ know what it is. You be a +sunbeam, you know. I know what a sunbeam is. It's a little piece of the +sun. It is long and bright. It comes through the window and falls on +the floor. Sometimes it falls on us. Sometimes it falls on flowers." + +Offered this choice, Ivan at once expressed his preference. + +"I will fall on flowers," he announced, with decision. + +The brown eyes of Augustus Adolphus glittered as he suddenly grasped +the possibilities of the situation. + +"No, you won't, neither!" he cried, excitedly. "You got to do it _all!_ +You better begin now. You can fall through that window; it's open." He +indicated, as he spoke, a low French window leading from the +living-room on to the broad veranda. "He's got to!" he cried, again. +"'Ain't he got to?" With a unanimous cry the meeting declared that he +had got to. Some of the children knew better; others did not; but all +knew Augustus Adolphus Schmidtt. + +Without a word, Ivan turned, walked up the steps of the veranda, +entered the wide hall, swung to the left, crossed the living-room, +approached the window, and fell out, head first. There was something +deeply impressive in the silence and swiftness of his action, something +deliriously stimulating to the spectators in the thud of his small body +on the unyielding wood. A long sigh of happiness was exhaled by the +group of children. Certainly this was a new duty--a strange one, but +worthy, no doubt, since it emanated from Fraulein, and beyond question +interesting as a spectacle. Augustus Adolphus resolved in that instant +to attend to his personal tasks at an early hour each day, that he +might have uninterrupted leisure for getting new falls out of Ivan's. +That infant had now found his feet, and was methodically brushing the +dust from his clothes. There was a rapidly developing lump over one +eye, but his expression remained unchanged. Josephine approached him +with happy gurgles. Her heart was filled with womanly sympathy, but her +soul remained undaunted. She was of the Spartan stuff that sends sons +to the war, and holds a reception for them if they return--from +victory--on their shields. She cooed in conscious imitation of +Fraulein's best manner. "Now, you can fall on flowers." + +Her victim followed her unresistingly to the spot she indicated, and, +having arrived, cast himself violently upon a bed of blazing +nasturtiums. The enthusiastic and approving group of children closed +around him as he rose. Even Augustus Adolphus, as he surveyed the wreck +that remained, yielded to Ivan's loyal devotion to his role the tribute +of an envious sigh. + +"Now you can fall on us," he suggested, joyfully. Before the words had +left his innocent lips, Ivan had made his choice. The next instant the +air was full of arms, legs, caps, and hair. + +"Lemme go!" shrieked Augustus Adolphus, battling wildly with the +unsuspected and terrible force that had suddenly assailed him. "Lemme +go, I tell you!" + +The reply of Ivan came through set teeth as he planted one heel firmly +in the left ear of the recumbent youth. "I have to fall on you," he +explained, mildly, suiting the action to the word. "First I fall on +you; then I let you go." + +There was no question in the minds of the spectators that this was the +most brilliant and successfully performed of the strange and +interesting tasks of Ivan. They clustered around to tell him so, while +Augustus Adolphus sought the dormitory for needed repairs. One of the +rules of the community was that the children should settle their little +disputes among themselves. Fortunately, perhaps, for Augustus Adolphus +he found the dormitory empty, and was able to remove from his person +the most obvious evidences of one hoisted by his own petard. In the +mean time Ivan Ivanovitch was experiencing a new sensation--the +pleasurable emotion caused by the praise of one's kind. But he did not +show that it was pleasant--he merely gazed and listened. + +"I think your new duties is nice," Josephine informed him, as she gazed +upon him with eyes humid with approval. "You have to do it every day," +she added, gluttonously. + +Ivan assented, but in his heart there lay a doubt. Seeking for light, +he approached Fraulein von Hoffman that afternoon as she dozed and +knitted under a sheltering tree. + +He stopped before her and fixed her with his serious gaze. + +"Does a sunbeam fall through windows?" he inquired, politely. + +Fraulein von Hoffman regarded him with a drowsy lack of interest. + +"But yes, surely, sometimes," she admitted. + +"Does it fall always through the window--every day?" + +"But yes, surely, if it is in the right place." + +The community's sunbeam sighed. + +"Does it fall on flowers and on boys and girls?" he persisted. + +"But yes, it falls on everything that is near." + +A look of pained surprise dawned upon the features of Ivan Ivanovitch. + +"Always?" he asked, quickly. "Always--it falls on _everything_ that is +near?" + +Fraulein von Hoffman placidly counted her stitches, confirming with a +sigh her suspicion that in dozing she had dropped three. + +"Not always," she murmured, absently. "But no. Only when the sun is +shining." + +Ivan carried this gleam of comfort with him when he went away, and it +is very possible that he longed for a darkened world. But if, indeed, +his daily task was difficult, as it frequently proved to be as the days +passed, there were compensations--in the school games, in the +companionships of his new friends, in the kindness of those around him. +Even Augustus Adolphus was good to him at times. Unquestioningly, +inscrutably, Ivan absorbed atmosphere, and did his share of the +community's work as he saw it. + +The theories of the community were consistently carried out. In the +summer, after their few hours of study, the children were left to +themselves. Together they worked out the problems of their little +world; together they discussed, often with an uncanny insight, the +grown-ups around them. Sometimes the tasks of the others were +forgotten; frequently, in the stress of work and play, Augustus +Adolphus's wood-box remained unfulfilled; Josephine's flowers were +unwatered. But the mission of Ivan as a busy and strenuous sunbeam was +regularly and consistently carried out--all the children saw to that. +Regularly, that is, save on dark days. Here he drew the line. + +"Fraulein says it only falls on things when the sun shines," he +explained, tersely, and he fulfilled his mission accordingly. Fraulein +wondered where he had accumulated the choice collection of bumps and +bruises that adorned his person; but he never told, and apparently +nobody else knew. Mrs. Eltner marvelled darkly over the destruction of +her favorite nasturtium-bed. Daily the stifled howls of Augustus +Adolphus continued to rend the ambient air when the sunbeam fell on +him; but he forbore to complain, suffering heroically this unpleasant +feature of the programme, that the rest might not be curtailed. Once, +indeed, he had rebelled. + +"Why don't you fall on some one else?" he had demanded, sulkily. "You +don't have to fall on me all the time." + +The reply of the sunbeam was convincing in its simple truth. + +"I do," he explained. "Fraulein has said so. It must fall always on the +same place if it is there." + +Augustus Adolphus was silenced. He was indeed there, always. It was +unfortunate, but seemed inevitable, that he should contribute his share +to the daily entertainment so deeply enjoyed by all. + +It was, very appropriately, at Thanksgiving-time that Ivan's mission as +an active sunbeam ended. He was engaged in his usual profound +meditation in the presence of Miss Clarkson, who had come to see him, +and who was at the moment digesting the information she had received, +that not once in his months at Locust Hall had he been seen to smile. +True, he seemed well and contented. His thin little figure was fast +taking on plumpness; he was brown, bright-eyed. Studying him, Miss +Clarkson observed a small bruise on his chin, another on his +intellectual brow. + +"How did you get those, Ivan?" she asked. + +For some reason Ivan suddenly decided to tell her. + +"I fell through the window. This one I got yesterday"--he touched +it--"this one I got Monday; this one I got last week." He revealed +another that she had not discovered, lurking behind his left ear. + +"But surely you didn't fall through the window as often as that!" +gasped Miss Clarkson. The small boy surveyed her wearily. + +"But yes," he murmured, in unconscious imitation of Praulein. "I must +fall through the window every day when the sun shines." + +Miss Clarkson held him off at arm's-length and stared at him. + +"In Heaven's name, _why?_" she demanded. + +Ivan explained patiently. Miss Clarkson listened, asked a few +questions, gave way to a moment of uncontrollable emotion. Then she +called together the other children, and again heard the story. It came +disjointedly from each in turn, but most fluently, most picturesquely, +most convincingly, from the lips of Augustus Adolphus Schmidtt and the +fair Josephine. When they had finished their artless recital, Miss +Clarkson sought Fraulein von Hoffman. That afternoon, beside the big +open fire in the children's winter play-room, Fraulein von Hoffman +addressed her young charges in words brief but pointed, and as she +talked the mission of Ivan at Locust Hall took on a new significance, +clear to the dullest mind. + +"You were very cruel to Ivan--ach, most cruel! And he is not to fall +any more, anywhere, on anything, you understand," explained the German, +clearly. "He has no tasks any more. He is but to be happy, and you +should love him and take care of him, because he is so small. That is +all." + +Ivan exhaled a sigh of deep contentment. Then he looked around him. The +great logs on the andirons were blazing merrily. In the hands of +Josephine a corn-popper waved above them, the corn inside burning +unobserved as she lent her ears to Fraulein's earnest words. Ten +apples, suspended on strings, swung from the mantel, spinning slowly as +they roasted. It was a restful and agreeable scene to the eyes of +little Ivan. + +Josephine felt called upon to defend her friends. + +"We didn't mean to be cruel," she explained, earnestly, answering the +one of Fraulein's charges which had most impressed her. "We love Ivan. +We love him lots. We like to see him to be a sunbeam, an' we thought he +liked to be one. He never said he didn't." + +The faces of his little companions were all around him. Ivan surveyed +them in turn. They loved him--lots. Had not Josephine just said so? And +only yesterday Augustus Adolphus had played marbles with him. It was +very good to be loved, to have a home, and not to be a little sunbeam +any longer. Then his eyes met those of Miss Clarkson, fixed upon him +sympathetically. + +"Would you like to go away, Ivan?" she asked, quietly. "Would you be +happier somewhere else?" + +The eyes of Ivan widened with sudden fear. To have this and to lose +it!--now, if ever, he must speak! "Oh _no_," he cried, earnestly; "no, +_no_, madam!" + +Reassured, she smiled at him, and as she did so something in her look, +in the atmosphere, in the moment, opened the boy's closed heart. He +drew a long breath and smiled back at her--a shy, hesitant, +unaccustomed smile, but one very charming on his serious little face. +Miss Clarkson's heart leaped in sudden triumph. It was his first smile, +and it was for her. + +"I like it here," he said. "I like it very much, madam." + +Miss Clarkson had moments of wisdom. + +"Then you shall stay, my boy," she said. "You shall stay as long as you +wish. But, remember, you must not be a sunbeam any more." + +Ivan responded in one word--a simple, effective word, much used by his +associates in response to pleasing announcements of holidays and +vacations, but thus far a stranger on his lips. He threw back his head +and straightened his shoulders. + +"Hurray!" he cried, with deep fervor. This was enough for Augustus +Adolphus and the fair Josephine. "Hurray!" they shrieked, in jubilant +duet--"Hurray! Hurray!" + +The others joined in. "Hur-ray!" cried the nine small companions of +Ivan. He looked at them for a moment, his thin mouth twitching. They +were glad, too, then, that he was to stay! He walked straight to Miss +Clarkson, buried his face in her lap, and burst into tears. For a +moment she held him close, smoothing his black head with a tender hand. +Almost immediately he straightened himself and returned to the side of +Josephine, shy, shamefaced, but smiling again--a new Ivan. + +"What did you cry for?" demanded that young lady, obtusely. "Because +you feel bad?" + +Augustus Adolphus replied for his friend, with an insight beyond his +years. + +"You let him alone," he said, severely. "He don't never cry when he +feels bad; _he_ only cries when he feels good!" + + + + +VII + +IN MEMORY OF HANNAH'S LAUGH + + +His name was "'Rastus Calhoun Breckenridge," he announced the morning +that he began his new duties as janitor of the Adelaide apartments, and +he at once gave the tenants to understand that no liberties were to be +taken with it. He preferred it _all_ when he was addressed in ordinary +conversation, he explained to them, but he had no objections to the +title, "Mistah Breckenridge," when they felt hurried. This interested +every inmate of the Adelaide, and for a few days amazingly amused +several, who gave play to their fancy in the use of abbreviations which +struck them as humorous. Their jokes lost point, subsequently, when it +was discovered that on no occasion did "Mistah Breckenridge" respond to +their calls nor meet their demands--whereas his service to all others +was swift, expert, phenomenally perfect. Thereafter the jokers forswore +indulgence of their sense of humor and addressed the janitor at full +length and with fuller deference, to reap their reward with those whose +apartments were warm, whose reasonable requests were met, whose halls +were clean, and whose door-knobs shone even as the rare smile of +"Mistah Breckenridge" himself. + +It required no unusual powers of observation to discover that as a +janitor the new man was the rare and perfect specimen who keeps alive +in a chilly world the tender plant of faith. Long before the sun was up +his busy mop and broom were heard in the land, and the slip-slap of his +carpet slippers, flopping along the halls as he made his nightly round, +was the lullaby of dissipated souls who "retired" at eleven. Results +followed with gratifying promptness. Apartments long empty were soon +rented, and envious neighbors came to gaze in awe upon the Adelaide and +its presiding genius, beholding in it the fine essence of New England +neatness and in him a small, thin, nervous, insignificant-looking +"colored gemman," who gazed past the sides of their faces with cold +aloofness. Often, neighbors, passing the impressive entrance, heard +from the lower regions of the building the sound of a high chuckle, +deepening rapidly to a contralto gurgle, and then broadening out into a +long, rich, velvety laugh as smooth as a flowing stream. No one could +hear that laugh unmoved. It rippled, it lilted, it died away, and +rolled forth again until the most _blase_ listener smiled in sympathy, +and children in the streets haw-hawed in mindless glee. It was the +laugh of Hannah--_Mrs._ 'Rastus Calhoun Breckenridge, as her husband +was careful to explain; and he once so far forgot his dignity as to +add, expansively, "We got de stifkit dat prove hit, Hannah an' me. We +got mah'd, _real_ mah'd, by a pahson." + +Hannah--stout, indolent, good-looking, good-natured, large enough to +make two small persons like her husband--chuckled and gurgled into her +fruity laugh. + +"Dat's de mos' pahtickler man," she volunteered, artlessly. Then, +seeing with wifely insight the first traces of gloom on her lord's +brow, she winked, trembled like a jelly-fish in a fresh convulsion of +her exhaustless mine of mirth, and disappeared into the lower regions, +to which, it was said, her husband devoted much more housewifely care +than she did. Usually he cooked his meals--and hers. Invariably he +scrubbed and swept the floors. + +Not infrequently he washed and ironed. But whatever he did and whatever +he was, the ripple of his wife's easy laughter followed him like the +wave in the wake of a puffing tug; and as he listened, the weazened +face of "Mistah Breckenridge" took on the expression of a small dog who +hears his master's footsteps at the end of a dragging day. + +The strenuousness of life left 'Rastus little time for the society of +his wife, but occasionally on a Sunday afternoon a rainbow-hued +apparition appeared at the entrance of the Adelaide, which, being +resolved into its elements, was recognized as "Mistah" and Mrs. +Breckenridge attired for a walk. Richly red were the hats of Hannah, +brilliantly blue her gown, glaringly yellow her new kid gloves. Like a +rubber-tired automobile she rolled along the street, while, not a bad +second--immaculate, silent, spatted, creased, silk-hatted, gloved, and +lavender-tied--pattered her small husband. He rarely spoke and never +laughed; but there was no evidence that Hannah missed these attentions; +if she did, there were numerous compensations, one of which she +confided to the cook of the newly married Browns, on the first floor. + +"'Rastus suttinly do pay mah bills," she murmured, appreciatively. And +then, with her unctuous laugh, "An' ah suttinly does keep dat man busy +at hit!" + +Quite possibly it was this and his other occupations which for a long +time made "Mistah Breckemidge" seemingly oblivious of a situation which +deeply impressed many others. It was the frequent presence in his home +of another "colored gemman"--large, brilliantly attired, loud-voiced, +and cheerful--who called upon Hannah three or four times a week and +whiled away many hours in her stimulating society. Occasionally her +husband found him there, but if the fact annoyed him he gave no +evidence of it. It was observed, too, that the manner of the visitor +was gingerly deferential toward his host; he evidently desired no +trouble with "Mistah Breckenridge." Occasionally he took Hannah for a +walk; several times he brought her simple offerings of chickens and +melons, heartening her to their consumption by participating in the +same. One evening he presented her with a rhine stone belt-buckle. The +next morning "Mistah Breckenridge" sought young Haddon Brown, the newly +married, who happened to be a lawyer as well as a happy groom. Without +preface or apology, 'Rastus came to the point. He wished a divorce from +Hannah. He wished it to be procured as cheaply as possible, but economy +was not to interfere with its being riveted as strongly as the law +permitted. He had his facts neatly tabulated. There was no emotion on +his little black face. At the door, after young Brown had promised to +do what he could for him, "Mistah Breckenridge" paused. + +"Git it jes' as quick as yuh kin, Mistah Brown," he suggested, "foh ef +yuh don't, I'se feared Hannah ain't a-gwine tuh stay tell hit comes. +Hannah am mighty sudden sometimes in huh ways." With this final tribute +to his spouse, he shut the door quietly and departed. + +In due time Haddon Brown handed "Mistah Breckenridge" the documentary +evidence of his freedom, and immediately on its receipt Hannah rose, +donned her most radiant attire, shook out a few farewell peals of +laughter, and departed, closely followed by the friend of the family, +beautiful in patent-leather shoes, new gray spats, and a tie to match. +Left alone, 'Rastus rearranged his household possessions, watered the +geraniums blooming in his basement windows, scrubbed, washed, answered +bells as scrupulously as of yore, and each night, when the work of the +day was done, donned his best clothes, oiled his crinkly hair, and +departed, returning in time for his usual inspection of the halls at +eleven o'clock. + +At the end of one month he set a fresh geranium in the window, +purchased a generous supply of provisions, went forth attired like +Solomon, and came back holding in one hand the hand of a blushing +bride, and in the other the "stifkit," signed by the negro minister who +had just married them. + +No two human beings could have been more unlike than the former and the +present Mrs. 'Rastus Calhoun Breckenridge. The bride was tall, thin, +chocolate-colored, serious, and hard-working. She toiled as steadily +and as indefatigably as her husband, and to the most cynical observer +it was plain that she loved him and valued him even at his worth. She +cooked appetizing meals for him, to which he did full justice; she +mended his old clothes and saw to it that he bought new ones; she saved +his money; and at the end of the year she presented him with a small, +fat, black son, over which 'Rastus hung in pathetic wonder. + +He himself had begun to grow stout. He put on more flesh as three +additional years passed. He seemed well-fed, happy, and prosperous. He +had money in the bank. His wages had been twice increased, and one +Christmas the enthusiastic tenants of the Adelaide had solemnly +presented him with a watch, with his name and the value of his services +inscribed in the case. His little boy flourished, his silent wife still +adored him. The world seemed good to 'Rastus. + +One day a dirty note was put into his hand by a small black youth he +had never seen before. It was brief but pointed: + +"I am sik. Com to Sharty Hospitl. He ain't duin nuthen fer me. HANNAH." + +"Mistah Breckenridge" carefully placed the note in his pocket, put his +hat on his head, and went to the Charity Hospital. It was not hard to +find Hannah. She had not been there long, but the doctors and nurses +liked her and seemed to have been expecting him. + +"She's the life of the place," said one of them. "She's got a lot of +pluck, too, and laughs when we hurt her. She thinks she's going to get +well, but she isn't." + +The little round face of 'Rastus changed expression. + +"She gwine tuh die?" he asked, quickly. + +"Sure," was the terse reply. + +"How--how soon?" + +The doctor hesitated. "In about a month, I think," he said, finally. + +'Rastus carried the memory of the words into the ward where she lay, +and then felt a quick sense of reaction. Die? Why, this was the +old-time Hannah, the Hannah of his youth, the Hannah he had married. +She was thinner, but the lines had smoothed out of her face and her big +black eyes looked up at him as confidingly as the eyes of a baby. She +laughed, too, a little--a ghost of the old, fat, comfortable chuckle; +but there was nothing of death nor even of suffering about Hannah that +day. Her spirit was not yet overthrown. + +"Ahm awful glad tuh see yuh, honey," she said. "Ah knew yuh'd cum." + +'Rastus sat down on the wooden chair beside her and fixed his little +black eyes unwinkingly upon her face. In his hands he held his hat, +which he twisted nervously between his knees at first, but finally +forgetfully dropped on the floor as his embarrassment passed. Propped +up on her pillows, Hannah chatted incessantly, telling him the small +details of her hospital life and such few facts of her illness as she +had been permitted to know. + +"I ain' got no pain," she assured him--"des now, I mean. Bimeby hit'll +cum, like hit do ebery aftahnoon, but doctah he come, too, an' he git +de better ub hit, ebery time. He sure am good to me, dat man!" + +Her white teeth flashed in a smile as she talked, but the eyes she kept +on the man's face had a curious look of wonder in them. + +"Yuh look well, honey," she said, finally, "an' yit yuh doan look well. +How come dat? You-all ain' got nuffin' tuh trouble yuh, is yuh?" + +'Rastus hurriedly assured her that he had not. He did not mention his +wife nor child, of whose existence she was, of course, perfectly aware; +but he dilated on the glories of his position, the size of his income, +and the gift of the watch. He pulled the last from his pocket as he +spoke of it, and she wagged her head proudly over it and shamelessly +boasted to the nurse who happened to come to her side. + +"Dey give dat to mah husban'," she said. Then she mentioned casually, +with all her old naivete, "Leaseways, he wuz mah husban' oncet." + +"Mistah Breckenridge" ignored this little incident. His mind was on +practical things. + +"Yuh got all yuh want, Hannah?" he asked. "'Caze ahm gwine tuh git hit +foh yuh ef yuh ain't." + +Hannah, who seemed prepared for this inquiry, responded to it with much +promptness. She needed a wrapper, she said, and some cologne, and three +new night-gowns, and "a lil chicking." 'Rastus wrote down each item +painstakingly and somewhat ostentatiously in a hand suited to unruled +paper. Then he bowed to the nurse, touched Hannah's hand with his +sinewy little paw, and trotted out with an air of vast importance. + +For several weeks the Adelaide was almost neglected, and puzzled +tenants sought the janitor in vain. He was rarely home, but Dinah, +dark-browed, sullen, red-lidded, and with a look of suffering on her +plain face, responded to their demands and did, so far as she could, +her husband's work and her own. She made no explanation of his absence, +and the last one which would have been accepted was the truth--that day +after day "Mistah Breckenridge" sat by the bedside of Hannah, talking +to her, cheering her, nursing her, feeding her with the fruit he had +brought her. He had almost superseded the nurse; and the doctors, +watching the pair, let them do much as they pleased, on the dreary +theory that nothing Hannah did could hurt her now. Sometimes she had +hours of severe pain, during which he remained with her, holding her +hand, soothing her, and lifting her still great bulk in his thin arms +with unexpected strength. In her better hours she talked to him, +telling him stories about the other patients, anecdotes of nurses and +doctors, and mimicking several luckless victims to the life. + +It was six weeks before Hannah died, very suddenly, and in one of her +paroxysms of suffering. 'Rastus was with her at the end, as he had been +during the hard weeks preceding it. When he realized that all was over, +he left the room, sought an undertaker, had a brief but pregnant +interview with him, and then disappeared from the hospital and from the +city as well. Where he went no one knew, though Dinah, wellnigh +frantic, strove distractedly to learn. On the morning of Hannah's +funeral he returned and assumed a leading part in that melancholy +procession, long after referred to as "de mos' scrumptuous bury-in'" in +colored circles. Nothing had been omitted that she would have wished. +Tall plumes nodded on the hearse, many carriages gathered in the +mourners, and close behind the silver-trimmed coffin which held all +that was left of Hannah. "Mistah Breckenridge" walked with leaden +steps, his small face drawn with grief. Subsequently he drew most of +his savings from the bank to pay the bills, and, having paid them, +returned once more to his anxious family and the monotonous routine of +life at the Adelaide. + +Dinah welcomed him coldly, and went about her duties with her head +high. She said no word of reproach, and it was not until several weeks +had passed that it was borne in upon her that 'Rastus remained +oblivious not only to her just wifely resentment, but to most other +things and emotions in life as well. He did his work, but he ate little +and slept less, and the flesh of his prosperous years seemed to drop +from him even as the startled beholder gazed. In despair Dinah sought +Haddon Brown and laid the case before him. + +"Dat man am suttinly gwine lose his min'," she sobbed, "ef he keep on +like he doin'. Den what gwine become of me and dat in'cen' chile!" + +Young Brown casually and unostentatiously looked 'Rastus over, and was +not satisfied with the survey. The janitor's lips were drawn, his eyes +were glassy, his clothes hung loosely on his shrunken little figure. He +did his work as a manikin wound up for the purpose might have done it. +There was no spring, no energy, no snap. Mr. Brown waited a fortnight, +expecting some change. None coming, one Sunday morning he urged 'Rastus +to go with him on a fishing trip, carry bait, fish if he wanted to, and +make himself generally useful. With unrelieved gloom "Mistah +Breckenridge" accepted the invitation, and the two left the city behind +them, and sought the peace of wood and stream and broad, overarching +sky. + +When he had found the shaded nook that seemed most promising, young +Brown baited his hook, dropped it into the water, and gave himself up +to pleasant reveries in which poor "Mistah Breckenridge" had no part. +He had good-naturedly brought him out here for rest and change and +sport and pure air, he told himself, but it was hardly to be expected +that he should do more. He yawned, dozed, and surveyed his line without +curiosity; beside him sat "Mistah Breckenridge," every muscle of him +tense, and a light in his eyes that was not nice to see. + +The spot they had chosen was a not infrequented one in the Bronx woods, +and at intervals the sound of human voices came to them and the light +colors of a woman's gown showed through the trees. Suddenly a laugh was +borne to their ears--a woman's laugh; light, happy, irrepressible. +Young Brown opened one eye. It sounded like the laugh of a nice girl. +He looked lazily in the direction whence it came. Then close by his +side he heard a thud, a groan. His companion had pitched full length on +the ground, and lay there crying with great, gasping sobs, and tearing +up the grasses by the roots. Brown gazed aghast, startled, sympathetic, +understanding dimly, yet repelled by this unmasculine outburst. He +began to speak, but changed his mind and waited, his eyes again on the +bobbing cork of his line. + +"Mistah Breckenridge" cried a long time--a very long time, indeed, it +seemed to young Brown, ill at ease and wholly unused to such +demonstrations. Then he sat up, pulled himself together, and turned a +distorted face toward the young man who had been so good a friend to +him. + +"You-all know, Mr. Brown, ah sure is ashamed," he said, quietly, "but +ah feel bettah, an' ah guess hit done me good. Ah felt like ah could +kill someone when we come yeah, but ah feel differnt now." + +His voice trailed into silence. He restlessly pulled up dandelions and +blades of grass around him, but his face had relaxed and he seemed +calm. Haddon Brown murmured something about a nervous strain, but the +other did not seem to hear him. + +"Hit wuz dat lady laffin'," he said, suddenly. "You-all know how mah +Hannah use tuh laff. Mah gracious! Yuh could heah dat woman a mile! An' +yuh know," he proceeded, slowly, "hit done me lots o' good, Mistah +Brown, des to heah huh. Ahm a silen' man, an' ah doan laff much, but ah +liked hit in Hannah, ah suttinly did--mighty well. Hit des made dis +mo'nful ole wurl' seem a chee'ful place--hit did indeed." + +Brown said nothing. There was nothing in his mind that quite fitted the +occasion. "Mistah Breckenridge" ripped a few more dandelions off their +stems and went on. + +"W'y, when dat woman lef me--when mah Hannah went away--ah use tuh go +aftah night to de place whah she lived, jes' to heah huh laff again. +Ah'd stan' out in d' dahk, an' ah'd see huh shadow on de cu'tin, an' +den ah'd heah huh laff an' laff lak she always done, an' den--ah'd come +home! Ah done dat all dese yeahs sense mah Hannah lef me. Dinah's all +right. Ah ain' complainin' none 'bout Dinah. Ah mah'd huh caze ah wuz +lonesome, an' she suttinly bin a good wife to me. Ahm goin' to wuk foh +huh tell ah git back all the money ah spent on Hannah. Hit wus Dinah's +money, too. But"--he burst out again with a sudden long wail--"ah jes' +doan see how ahm goin' tuh keep on livin in a worl' whah dey ain't no +Hannah!" + +His grief gathered force as he gave it rein. He hurled himself down on +the ground again and tore at the grasses with his thin black hands. +"Oh, ah want, ah want, _ah want tuh heah mah Hannah laff again!_" he +cried, frenziedly. + +A fish nibbled at the bait on Brown's hook, changed his mind, flirted +his fins, and swam away--a proof of the proverb about second thoughts. +A bird in the branches of the tree above the two men burst into +ecstatic song. But neither heard him. "Mistah Breckenridge" had buried +his black face in the cool grass, his hot tears falling fast upon it. +Beside him young Brown, brought face to face with elemental conditions, +sat silent and thought hard. + + + + +VIII + +THE QUEST OF AUNT NANCY + + +It was in a stuffy compartment of a night train approaching Paris that +Jessica and I were privileged to look upon Aunt Nancy for the first +time. Her obvious age would soon have attracted our attention, no +doubt, and certainly the gallantry with which she carried her eighty +years could not long have escaped the observation of two such earnest +students of humanity as we believed ourselves to be. But the +characteristic in her which at once caught my eye was her expression--a +look of such keen alertness, such intense vitality, that even in the +mental stagnation that accompanies night travel I wondered what, in her +surroundings, could explain it. + +The dingy carriage in which we sat was vaguely illuminated by an oil +lamp, the insufficient rays of which brought out effective high lights +on the bald head of one audibly slumbering German on our side of the +compartment, and on the heavy face of a stout Frenchwoman who sat +opposite him, next to the old lady upon whom I was concentrating my +attention. The latter, obviously an American, the two foreigners, and +ourselves, were the sole occupants of the compartment; and certainly in +the appearance of none of her four fellow-passengers was there +justification of the wide-awake intentness of the kind old eyes that +now beamed on us through heavy, steel-rimmed spectacles. Pensively, as +befitted the weary wanderer, I marvelled. How could she look so alive, +so wide awake, so energetic, at one o'clock in the morning? + +The bald-headed man slept on. The stout woman removed a shell comb from +her back hair and composed herself for deeper slumber. Jessica +presented to my lambent gaze a visage which besought unspoken sympathy, +and mutely breathed a protest against travel in general and this phase +of it in particular. Jessica in the "still small hours" was never +really gay. It was dimly comforting to one of my companionable nature +to turn from her to the little old woman opposite me. In figure and +dress she might have posed for one of Leech's drawings of ancient +dames, so quaintly prim was she, so precise in their folds were her +little black mantle and her simple black gown, so effective a frame to +her wrinkled face was the wide black bonnet she wore. On her hands, +demurely crossed in her lap, were black lace mitts. Moreover, she was +enveloped, so to speak, in a dim aroma of peppermint, the source of +which was even then slightly distending one faded cheek. Irrepressibly +I smiled at her, and at once a long-drawn sigh of pleasure floated +across to me. In spontaneous good-fellowship she leaned forward. + +"It's a real comfortable journey, ain't it?" she whispered, so +evidently torn between a passionate desire to talk and consideration +for the sleepers that my heart went out to her. + +"Well, if you mean this especial journey--" I hesitated. + +"Yes, I do," she insisted. "The seats are real comfortable. Everything +is." She threw out her mittened hands with a gesture that seemed to +emphasize a demand for approval. "I wouldn't change a single thing. +Some say it's hot; I don't think 'tis. I wouldn't mind, though, if +'twas. We're gettin' a nice draught." + +I looked through the open window at the French landscape, bathed in the +glory of an August moon. + +"That, at least, is very satisfactory," I admitted, cheerfully. + +She looked a little blank as she glanced around, and a queer expression +of responsibility settled over her features, blurring their brightness +like a veil. + +"I see," she said, slowly. "You mean France. Yes, 'tis nice, an' they's +certainly a great deal to see in it." She hesitated a moment, and then +went on more rapidly. "You know," she continued, in her high-keyed, +sibilant whisper, "it's some different with me from what 'tis with you. +You can speak French. I heard you talkin' to the conductor. An' I +suppose you've been here often, an' like it. But this is the first time +_I've_ come over to Europe. I've always meant to, sometime, but things +ain't been just so's I _could_ come. Now't I'm here, I can't stay long, +an' I must say I feel kind of homesick. There's so much to see it jest +makes my head swim. I come for a purpose--a purpose of my own--but +now't I'm here, I want to do my duty an' see things. I declare," she +added, shamefacedly, "I most hate to go to sleep nights, I'm so afraid +I'll miss something an' hear about it when I git back." + +I asked a conventional question, which evoked a detailed report of her +journeyings. By this time Jessica had opened one eye; the two +foreigners slept on peacefully. She had landed at Naples, the old lady +told me; and from her subsequent remarks I gathered that she had found +the Italians as a people deficient in the admirable qualities of +cleanliness and modesty. She lamented, also, an over-preponderance of +art galleries, and the surprising slowness of the natives to grasp +intelligent remarks made in the English tongue. Aside from these +failings, however, she had found Italy somewhat interesting, and she +mentioned especially the grotto at Capri and the ascent of Vesuvius. +She added, casually, that few of her fellow-tourists had made this +latter excursion, as it was just after the severest eruptions, and the +air had been full of dust and cinders. Jessica opened the other eye. I +began to experience vivid interest in the conversation. + +Rome, she further revealed, meant to her the Campagna and the +Catacombs. On the former she had taken walks, and in the very bowels of +the latter she had seemingly burrowed for days, following some +mysterious purpose of her own. Her favorite time for a promenade on the +Campagna, and one she paused to recommend to me, was at dusk, the place +then being quiet and peaceful, owing to the fact that tourists, +foolishly fearing the fever, kept away from it after sunset. + +At this point Jessica sat up, arranged a pillow comfortably behind her +back, and gave her undivided attention to the monologue. At last she +put a question. Was the lady travelling alone? The lady hastened to +explain that she was not. + +"My, no," she said, briskly. "I'm a tourist--that's what they call 'em, +you know, when they're with a man. They's eighteen in our party, and +the man that is takin' us is Mr. James George Jackson. He's real nice. +He's in one of the other cars on this train, an' they's three gentlemen +with him that belong to us, too. All the rest stayed in Paris because +they was tired. You see," she added, explanatorily, "we done Lourdes in +two days, an' we took it off our time in Paris. We ain't got much time +in Paris, anyhow, so we went an' come back at night. I s'pose the rest +thought it might be tryin' in the heat, so they stayed behind an' went +to Fontingblow yesterday an' up the Seen to-day. But I saw the Black +Forest when we was in Germany, an' the Rhine, too, an' some of us +walked from Binjen to Cooblens, so's we could git the view real well. +So I thought I'd let the French river an' forest go, an' see Lourdes +instead." + +Jessica interrupted here. + +"I beg your pardon," she asked, earnestly, "but--have you really been +travelling two nights and sight-seeing two days in that fearful crush +at Lourdes without any sleep?" + +Our new friend nodded slowly, as one to whose attention the matter had +just been directed. "Why, yes, that's so," she conceded. "But I ain't a +bit tired. Old folks don't need much sleep, you know, an' I'm pretty +old. I was eighty-one last June." + +Jessica dropped her pillow and sat up very straight, a slight flush +upon her face. Our new friend prattled on until the lights of Paris +appeared in the distance, and Jessica and I began to collect the +impressive array of impedimenta with which we had thoughtfully +multiplied the discomfort of travel. As we pulled down packages of rugs +and tightened various straps the bright eyes of the little old woman +watched us unswervingly through her spectacles. Grasping firmly a stout +and serviceable umbrella, she was ready to disembark. If she had +brought any baggage with her, which I doubted, it was evidently in the +fostering care of Mr. James George Jackson. + +"What hotel are you goin' to?" she asked, suddenly. "I know a real good +one." + +I told her it was the St. James et D'Albany, and her wrinkled face grew +radiant. + +"Well, now, I declare," she cried, heartily, "ain't that nice! That's +jest where we're stayin', an' I'm as comfor'ble as I can be. I got a +room with a window that looks right into the Twilry Gardens. Mr. +Jackson says that I must have the best they is, because I'm the oldest. +'Age before beauty,' he says, an' none of the other ladies minds a bit. +They certainly are good to me. Of course, I don't say 't I wouldn't +like a more relishin' breakfast, because I would; an' I ain't got used +to that waiter man comin' right into my room with his trays before I'm +out of my bed, an' I never expect to. But _'tis_ a good hotel, an' the +lady that runs it is real nice, if she _is_ French." + +The train swung into the great station as she spoke, and a round, +perspiring, and very grimy masculine face presented itself at the door +of our compartment. + +"Well, Aunt Nancy," said the owner of this, with a sprightly effort at +cheerfulness, "you alive yet? The rest of us are dead. You come right +along with me now, and I'll whisk you up to the hotel in a cab. And if +you take my advice, you'll go to bed and stay there for two days, after +this experience." + +He tucked the old lady under his arm as he spoke, and she trotted off +with him in high good-humor, turning several times to nod and smile at +us as she departed. + +At eight o'clock the following morning I was awakened by Jessica, who +stood at my bedside light-heartedly reminding me of my self-imposed +duty of going early to the station to attend to the luggage, which we +had omitted to do the night before. My replies to this suggestion, +while they held Jessica's awe-struck attention for five minutes, would +be of no interest here. Bitterly I rose, reluctantly and yawningly I +dressed. At nine I stood at the entrance of our hotel signalling +sleepily for a cab, and wilting already under the heat of the August +sun. While I waited, a tourist coach drew up at the curb. It was +gorgeous with red paint and conspicuous with large signs bearing the +lettering "A VERSAILLES." The driver remained on the box. The guide, +evidently there by appointment and sharply on time, leaped to the +sidewalk, glanced at his watch, snapped the case shut with a satisfied +nod, and stood with his eyes on the hotel entrance. One tiny black +figure came forth, greeted him with a blithe "Bongjure," and intrepidly +began the perilous ascent of the ladder he hastened to place against +the side of the coach for her convenience. It was Aunt Nancy, dressed +as she had been the night before, but immaculately neat, and reflecting +in her face the brightness of the morning. I greeted her, and in her +glad surprise at seeing me again she remained suspended between earth +and heaven to talk to me, incidentally revealing the whole of two +serviceable gaiters, the tiny ruffle of an alpaca petticoat, and a +long, flat section of gray-striped cotton hose. + +"Well, well," she beamed. "Ain't this nice? Yes, I'm goin'. The rest +ain't ready yet, but I've been awake sence five, so I thought I'd come +right down an' watch the coach fill up. The men ain't goin'--they're so +tired, poor dears. Onri, my waiter, says every last one of 'em is in +bed yit. But some of the ladies that went up the Seen yesterday is +comin', so I guess we'll have a real nice party. We're goin' to see the +palace an' the Treenon first, an' then I'm goin' to the fair in the +village. Mr. Jackson says a French fair is real interestin', but he +ain't goin'. He said last night he had a great deal of work to do in +his room to-day, an' he guessed we wouldn't none of us see him till +dinner. Do you know"--she lowered her voice mysteriously and cast an +apprehensive eye about her as she went on--"Onri says Mr. Jackson's +asleep this very minute, an' it's most nine o'clock in the mornin'!" + +These startling revelations were checked by the appearance of two of +her fellow-tourists, and I seized the opportunity afforded by this +interruption to depart upon my uncongenial task. + +We did not see Aunt Nancy again until the morning of our third day in +Paris, when I ran across her in the galleries of the Luxembourg. She +was settled comfortably in a bright-red upholstered seat near the main +entrance, and on her wrinkled face was an expression of perfect peace. + +"Well, I'm glad to see you resting at last," was my greeting. + +"Yes, I'm restin'," she conceded. "I always do in the art galleries," +she added, simply, as I sat down beside her. "They've got the +comfort'blest chairs here of any, I think, though they was some nice +ones in Florence, too; an' in one of the places in Rome they was a long +seat where you could 'most lay down. I took a real nice nap there. You +see," she continued, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle out of one lace +mitt, "I don't know much about pictures, _anyway_, but I come right +along with the others, an' when I git here I jest set down an' rest +till they git through lookin' at 'em. I don't know what's Michelangelo +an' what _ain't_, an' 't seems to me it's too late to find out now." + +Jessica appeared at this moment, and further revelations were checked +by greetings, followed almost immediately by our reluctant departure to +keep an appointment. Before we left, however, we learned that the day +at Versailles had been followed by an evening "at one of them French +kafes where women sing," and that fourteen hours of sight-seeing in +Paris itself had dispelled the threatened ennui of the second day. + +Late that evening Mr. James George Jackson tottered to the side of +Jessica in the corridor of the Hotel D'Albany and addressed her, wiping +his brow as he did so. + +"It's the old lady," he said--"Aunt Nancy Wheeler, you know. She asked +me to ask you two ladies if you wouldn't like to join us in a drive +this evening. She wants to see how Paris looks at night, an' I've got +to show her." + +He swayed languidly against a pillar when we had accepted the +invitation, and groaned in reply to Jessica's tribute to the old lady's +activity. + +"She's active all right," he remarked, grimly. "If there's anything +left of _me_ after she gets through, it'll be because I've inherited an +iron constitution from my mother. She's worn out every other man in the +party weeks ago. The worst of it is that I don't know why she does it. +She really doesn't care about anything; I'm sure of that. But she's got +some object; so she goes from early morn till dewy eve, and of course +some one's got to go with her; we can't let her wander around alone. +Besides, what I'm afraid of is that she'll go all to pieces some +day--like the deacon's one-horse shay, you know, and there won't be +anything left but a little heap of alpaca clothes and congress gaiters. +She's worn out six pair of gaiters since we started," he added, with a +wail. "I know, because I've had to buy them. _She_ hasn't had time." He +shook his head mournfully as he wandered away. + +Jessica and I bade Aunt Nancy an affecting farewell that night, as we +were leaving Paris the next day. For several weeks we heard no more of +her, but in Scotland we crossed her trail again. The Highlands were +full of rumors of an intrepid old dame who had "done" the lakes and the +Trossachs as apparently they had never been done before. Was she an +American? She was. Eighty years old, dressed in black, with a big +bonnet, steel-rimmed spectacles, and gaiters? All was correct but the +gaiters. Seemingly the gaiter supply had been exhausted by the constant +demand. She wore shoes with heavy soles and, our informant added, +happily, gray, striped stockings. From the rumors of her achievements +on land and water, Jessica and I glanced apprehensively over the +surface of Scotland, fearing to see it strewn with exhausted boatmen, +guides, and drivers; but apparently all her victims had survived, +though they bore as a souvenir of their experience with her a haggard +and hunted look which Jessica declared she could detect from the top +seat of the loftiest coach. + +Drifting down through Ireland we heard another echo of Aunt Nancy. She +had ridden on horseback through the Gap of Dunloe, no difficult feat in +itself, and one achieved daily during Kallarney's tourist season by old +ladies of various countries and creeds. In Aunt Nancy's case, however, +it appeared that she had been able to enjoy that variety which is so +gratifying a feature of human experience. Notwithstanding the fact that +she had never been on the back of a horse in her life, she unerringly +selected the freshest and most frolicsome of the Irish ponies as her +mount. It appears further that she was finally lifted to the saddle of +this animal as the result of a distinct understanding between Mr. James +George Jackson and her guide that the latter gentleman was not only to +accompany the lady every foot of the route, but was meantime to cling +valiantly to the bridle with both hands. Unfortunately, this +arrangement, so deeply satisfying to all, was not ratified by the +mettlesome Irish pony; the result being that, after the guide had been +swept off his feet by a sudden and unexpected lift of the animal's +forelegs, Aunt Nancy and the pony continued the excursion alone. +Judging from the terse words of one of the observers, it must have been +an exciting spectacle while it lasted, though it passed all too rapidly +beyond the line of the beholder's longing vision. + +"Ye c'u'dn't tell," remarked this gentleman, sadly, in relating the +accident, "which was the harse an' which the auld lady, an' which the +Gap of Dunloe!" + +Excited pursuers did not "catch 'em," as they were urged to do by the +frenzied Mr. Jackson, but they were rewarded by finding various +portions of Aunt Nancy's wearing apparel scattered along the trail. +Items: one black bonnet, one cape, one handkerchief, one pair of +steel-rimmed spectacles. Apparently only those garments securely +fastened in place, such as shoes and lace mitts, had survived the +experience. Apparently, also, Aunt Nancy had made in almost unbroken +silence her exciting mountain ride. The exception seemingly occurred +somewhere in the Dark Valley, where a mountain woman, seeing her fly +by, had thoughtlessly urged her to stop and buy a glass of goat's milk. +The woman's memory of the encounter was slightly vague, it having ended +so abruptly, but she retained the impression that Aunt Nancy had +expressed an unusual degree of regret at being unable to accept her +invitation. + +"'Twasn't till thin I saw the poor harse was crazy wid fright, an' the +auld lady's close blowin' over his eyes," added the mountain woman, +sympathetically. "An' I couldn't do nathin', becuz, begorra, whin I +lifted me v'ice to call me big bye, the auld woman an' the harse was +half-way down the valley." + +Fortunately, five or six miles of this stimulating pace had a blighting +effect on the wild Hibernian spirits of the pony, with the result that +he and his rider ambled at a most sedate gait into the space where the +row-boats were waiting their passengers for Ross Castle, and where the +remaining members of the party were expected to meet. The remaining +members of the party, for obvious reasons, were not yet there; and the +long delay before their arrival gave Aunt Nancy time to replace the +missing articles of her apparel with garments borrowed from the woman +at the refreshment booth, and to eat a hearty luncheon. Thus refreshed, +she was ready for the fourteen-mile journey in a row-boat to Ross +Castle, which was the next item on the programme of the day; and she +made it that afternoon, notwithstanding the almost hysterical +expostulations of Mr. James George Jackson. + +It was not until we sailed for America that we looked again into Aunt +Nancy's dauntless eyes. She was the first passenger we saw when we +reached the deck of the Columbia, and her joy in the encounter was as +deep as our own. We chatted for a moment, and then she darted off to +greet various members of her party from whom side excursions had +temporarily separated her. + +The sea was slumberously calm, bathed in hazy autumnal sunshine. +Light-hearted men and women in white linen and pale flannel costumes +strolled about the decks explaining to one another what good sailors +they were, and how they hoped the sea would not remain monotonously +smooth. + +"One wants a little life and swing on a ship," explained one fat, blond +man on whose face we were even then looking, though we knew it not, for +the last time in seven sad days. To a unit the passengers poured into +the dining-saloon at the first call for luncheon. To a unit they +consumed everything on the bill of fare. All was peace and appetite. + +That afternoon the sea roused herself drowsily, turned over, and +yawned. The blue waves of the morning were gone. In their place were +huge, oily, black swells, which lazily lifted the _Columbia_, held her +suspended for a long minute, and then with slow, shuddering reluctance +let her down, down, down. An interesting young Scotchman who was +sitting by Jessica's side on deck stopped suddenly in the midst of an +impassioned tribute to the character of Robert Brace, looked in her +face for an instant with eyes full of a horrible fear, and hastily +joined a stout German in a spirited foot-race to the nearest +companionway. A High-church English divine, who had met me half an hour +before and had hastened to spare me future heartaches by explaining at +once that he was married, rose abruptly from his chair beside me and +wobbled uncertainly to the deck-rail, where he hung suspended in an +attitude of pathetic resignation. Thus recalled to the grim realities +of life, Jessica and I looked up and down the deck. It was +deserted--deserted save for a little black figure that trotted rapidly +past us, clutching occasionally at the empty air for support as she was +hurled from one side to the other of the glistening deck, but cheerful, +undaunted, and happy. + +"I got to have some exercise," panted Aunt Nancy, as she reclined for +an instant in my lap, where a lurch of the ship had deposited her; "so +I'm takin' a little walk." She was still walking when Jessica and I +retreated hurriedly to our cabin. + +The days that followed are too sad to be described by the most +sympathetic pen. The sea, moved to her uttermost depths as she had not +been in twenty-five years, resented fiercely the presence of the +Columbia on her disturbed bosom. Madly she cast her from her; with +feline treachery she drew her back again, and sought to tear apart her +mighty timbers. Groaningly, agonizingly, pluckily, the Columbia bore +all--and revenged herself on her passengers. She stood on her head, and +sent them, so to speak, into her prow. She rose up on her stern, and +scattered them aft. She stood still and shuddered. She lay down on her +left side until she had imperilled the heart action of every person on +board; she rolled over on her right side and started briskly toward the +bottom of the sea. She recovered herself, leaped up and down a few +times to prove that she was still intact, and did it all over again. +Meanwhile the passengers, locked below and sternly commanded to keep to +their cabins, held fast to the sides of their berths and prayed +fervently for death. + +Neither Jessica nor I was actively ill, but Jessica's indifference to +food and social intercourse was marked in the extreme. Stretched on her +back in the berth opposite my own, she lay day and night with closed +eyes and forbidding demeanor, rousing herself only long enough to repel +fiercely any suggestion that she take nourishment. Also, she furnished +me with one life-long memory. From sheer ennui I ordered and devoured +at noon on the third day a large portion of steamed peach dumpling, +with hard sauce. The look which Jessica cast first upon this dish and +then upon me will always, I think, remain the dominant feature of my +most troubled dreams. + +During this time I had not forgotten Aunt Nancy, though I am sure +Jessica had. Her cabin, however, while on the same deck as our own, was +at the other end of the ship, and I had grave doubts of my ability to +cover safely the distance between. Finally I attempted it, and, aside +from the slight incidents of blacking one eye in an unexpected +diversion to the rail, and subsequently being hurled violently against +the back of an axe nailed to the wall, I made the passage in safety. +Aunt Nancy was not in her cabin, but a hollow groan from the upper +berth betrayed the fact that her room-mate was. From this lady I was +unfortunately unable to extract any information. She seemed to feel +that I was mercifully sent to chloroform her out of existence, and her +disappointment over my failure to play this Samaritan role was so +bitter that I was forced to withdraw lest she should utter things +unbefitting a gentlewoman. + +Down the long corridor, as I groped my way back, something blew toward +me like a wraith from the sea. It wore a gray, woolly bathrobe, a tiny +wisp of white hair fastened precariously with one hair-pin, and a pair +of knitted bedroom slippers. It was Aunt Nancy, and we executed then +and there an intricate pas de deux in our common efforts to meet. +Finally the Columbia ceased her individual evolutions long enough to +enable us to grasp the passage-rail. + +"I've been in your cabin," I explained, above the roar of wave and +wind, as we stood facing each other. "I was afraid you were ill." + +Aunt Nancy looked almost pained at such a suspicion. + +"My, no," she disavowed, hastily; "but there's them that is," she +conceded. "I've been to see--let me see--thirty of 'em to-day--men an' +women both. Poor Mr. Jackson's about the worst. I never SEE such a sick +man. I got this cracked ice for him," she added, looking down at the +glass she was clasping to her bosom with her free hand. "I'd 'a' looked +in on you," she added, kindly, "if I hadn't been so busy, but I heard +you wa'n't neither of you sick." + +I explained with some effort that I felt comfortable as long as I lay +still, but that as soon as I was on my feet, the motion--We parted +hurriedly. + +On the morning of the sixth day Jessica turned over in her berth, +removed from her spine a fork which had seemingly been there all the +week, regarded it with strong disfavor, and announced briefly that she +was going above. We went. The decks were still wet, and the +steamer-chairs were securely lashed in place. The sky was gray and +lowering, but the sea had sulkily subsided, showing its continued +resentment of the whole experience only in the upheaval of an +occasional wave which broke over the ship-rail and perished at our +feet. As the hours passed, pale wraiths appeared at the companionways, +supported one another feebly to the nearest chairs, sank into them, and +veiled their faces from one another's gaze. They seemed the ghosts of +the happy men and women who had come on board the Columbia six long +days ago. Languidly as the hours passed they revived and confided to +one another the simple record of the voyage. No, they had not been ill. +It was, indeed, singular how few of them had been disturbed by the +voyage, though they had all noticed that it was rough. But they had +been injured by being knocked about or thrown from their berths, or +they had been caring for friends or relatives who were ill. Several of +them paused at my side on their way to and from their cabins to indulge +in these artless confidences. It remained, however, for Aunt Nancy to +make the most interesting of all. + +She came along the deck about five in the afternoon and dropped with +serene satisfaction into the empty steamer-chair at my right. She was +fully dressed in the inevitable black, even to her wide bonnet. With a +sigh of pleasure she folded her mittened hands and began to talk. + +"It's been real interestin'," she said. "I must say I'm 'most sorry to +have it over. I want to go to Europe again in two years; I ain't really +enjoyed this trip very much; but when I come again I think I'll like it +better, now that I know it. But of course at my age one can't really be +sure one can come again." + +She sank into silence for a moment, looking down at the mittened hands +in her lap. Then her face brightened, and she turned to me again with +her old, alert eagerness of expression. + +"I dunno why I shouldn't come, though," she added, cheerfully. "I'm +real well. Before I left home I was some worried. I didn't seem to be +as strong as I used to be. That's why I come--to build up my health an' +git strong. Lots of folks has wondered why I come, I guess, an' that +was it, though I ain't told no one till now. I guess I did improve, +too, for the stewardess told me with her own lips only this mornin' +that she thought I was a healthy woman. But of course," she added, with +lowly humility, "I can't do what I did when I was young." + +I was speechless. The Columbia paused on the top of a wave, hesitated a +moment, and sailed unsteadily onward. With eyes filled with a solemn +content, Aunt Nancy gazed out over the cold, wet sea. + + + + +IX + +THE HENRY SMITHS' HONEYMOON + + +When Jacob West suggested to Henry Smith that the latter's honeymoon +should be spent in New York, Mr. Smith's ruddy countenance paled at the +audacity of the words, and Miss Maria Tuttle, his fiancee, gasped +audibly for breath. Unconsciously they clasped hands, as if better to +meet together the rude shock of the moment; and seated side by side on +the rustic bench which adorned the small veranda of the Tuttle +homestead, they gazed helplessly at the speaker. Slowly and with the +stiffness of age Jacob sat down on the steps below them and looked up +at their startled faces with a twinkle in his dim old eyes. His +enjoyment of the moment was intense. + +"Why not?" he demanded, cajolingly and argumentatively. "Ain't yeh old +enough t' have a good time? Ain't yeh waited long enough? Ain't +yeh"--he turned directly to Maria--"bin nursin' yer poor mother fer six +years past an' wearin' yerself out, an' ain't yeh bin sewin' day an' +night fer three months, ever sence she died, t' git ready t' marry +Henry?" He drew a long breath of gratification over the respectful +silence which greeted these adroit points, and went on with hortatory +sympathy. "Yeh bin a good daughter, Maria. They ain't no better in +Clayton Centre. Yeh deserve th' best they is. Now be good t' yerself +an' Henry. Let him take yeh to New York an' give yeh a good time on the +weddin' tower." + +Miss Tuttle blushed faintly. She was forty-five, and looked ten years +older. She was a tired, worn out, faded little woman, drained of her +youth and vitality by the hourly exactions of the fault-finding invalid +mother whom she had so recently laid away in the church-yard with +unselfish filial tears. But there was something attractive in the sweet +patience of her thin face, and the look in her brown eyes as she turned +them on her faithful middle-aged lover was one of the trump cards her +sex has played since Eve first used it as she accompanied Adam to the +gate out of paradise. In her embarrassment she laughed a little, +consciously. + +"Mebbe Henry don't want to go," she began. "He ain't said nothing about +New York." + +Henry whirled abruptly till he faced her on the rustic seat. + +"Go! You bet I want to go!" he ejaculated, with fervor. "Don't I +just--you bet I do. Say, Maria"--he fumbled nervously with the thin +hand he still held in his own--"say, let's go." + +Jacob West cackled delightedly. "That's the talk!" he cried, his thin, +high tones taking on a shriller note in his excitement. "You jest do +it, Henry! You make her! Neither of yeh'll be sorry, I swan!" + +They sat silent, reflecting, and the old fellow rose slowly and +painfully, instinctive delicacy telling him that, having done his part, +it behooved him to leave them alone to solve for themselves the +question he had raised. It was hard to go, but he went, chuckling +reminiscently as he recalled the excited look on their faces and +pictured the lively debate which would follow his departure. + +It was a warm October evening, and the little village lay silent under +the early stars. A light wind sang a droning lullaby in the grove of +pines back of the Tuttle home, and a few belated birds twittered +sleepily in near-by trees. Unconsciously Maria voiced the subtle charm +of the hour when she spoke. + +"I dunno, Henry," she said, lingeringly--"I dunno's I feel to go. Seems +like we ought to be content to stay right here, where it's so quiet an' +restful." + +Her eyes roamed lovingly down the garden paths, lingering on trees and +shrubs planted by Tuttle hands now a part of earth themselves. "I'm so +glad you're comin' here," she sighed, happily. "I don't b'lieve you +know yet how glad I am, Henry--not t' leave the old place." + +He waived the discussion of this side interest, already settled between +them. + +"It'll be jest as nice when we come back from New York," he argued, +logically, "an' jest as quiet." + +The feminine intellect beside him took another tack on the sea of +uncertainty with which old Jacob had surrounded it. + +"Mebbe we can't afford it," she hazarded. "Prices is very high in New +York, Henry. Joseph Hadley's daughter went there four years ago with +her aunt, and she told me with her own lips they had to pay a dollar a +day for their room at the hotel, without no meals. The hotel man wanted +seventy-five cents apiece for dinner, so they paid it once a day an' +the rest of the time they went into lunch-rooms an' had milk an' +crackers. But with one dollar for the room, and another dollar 'n' a +half for dinner, an' the crackers an' milk besides, they spent 'most +twenty dollars the very first week. They had to come right straight +home, 'n' they'd meant to stay two weeks." + +Henry Smith's strong jaw set rather obstinately. + +"I guess we won't have to come home till we git ready," he remarked, +easily, "an' I guess we'll git our three meals a day, too. I don't see +myself eatin' no milk an' crackers, nor you, neither. I guess I 'ain't +bin savin' all these years, with a good carpenter business, without +gittin' somethin' ahead. Say, 'Ria"--it was he who blushed now, his +round face close to hers--"yeh can have anything yeh want. I'm that +glad t' git yeh at last, I'd spend all I have!" + +Her thin hand responded for an instant to the pressure of his and then +coyly withdrew itself. She had few words at any time and none in +moments of emotion, but he knew her and was satisfied. + +"You've bin so good, Henry," she said, at last; "you've bin awful +patient all these years. Fur's I'm concerned, I'd as lief stay here's +anywhere, but if you want to go t' New York, I--I--want to do what yeh +say." + +"Then we'll go," he said, quietly; and the great question was settled. + +When Mr. and Mrs. Henry Smith arrived in New York on the evening of +their wedding-day, it is doubtful which of them was the more dazed and +frightened by the bustle and confusion at the Grand Central station. +Maria had at least the support of her husband's nearness to sustain +her, and the comparative peace of mind of the one who, though facing +untoward conditions, is without personal responsibility; but Henry +experienced, in addition to his self-distrust, a sickening fear of +failure in her presence. He was conscious of two dominant thoughts. +Whatever happened, he must take care of his wife and spurn the advances +of agreeable strangers. Also he and she must be transported by hack to +the hotel they had chosen, without parting with the savings of years +for the ride. He had heard of the extortions of cabmen. He bargained +fiercely with a too-zealous independent who had already grasped his +hand-bag and was leading the way to his cab, past the more inexpensive +cabs supplied by the railroad company. + +"You don't git one cent more'n two dollars for taking us, I can tell +you that," announced Henry Smith, firmly but breathlessly, as he +climbed clumsily into the cab after his wife. The hotel was in the +fifties, and the cabman had intended to charge a dollar for the ride. +He promptly protested against Mr. Smith's offer, however, inquiring +anxiously if the gentleman wished an honest cabman's family to go +supperless to bed. It appeared that the gentleman was indifferent to +the fate of the cabman's family. + +"You'll do it for two dollars or you'll let us git out," was his final +word. As one overcome by superior force, the cabman yielded, climbed +sulkily to his perch, and, bestowing a large, comprehensive wink upon +the by-standers, started for the hotel his fare had indicated. Mr. +Smith's spirits rose. Obviously, in this triumph he had demonstrated +his fitness to cope with all the other grinding monopolies of New York. +He smiled proudly at his wife as they drove toward Broadway, and his +confidence grew as he discovered that he recognized the Times Building +at the first glance and could also recognize the Hotel Astor by its +resemblance to the picture of it in the Clayton Centre Weekly. At one +point in their progress up-town the cab was caught in a crush of +vehicles and Mrs. Henry Smith was privileged, for the first time in her +life, to listen to the untrammelled conversation of New York cabmen on +an occasion when they set their moral shoulders against congested +traffic, knowing that it helps THEM, at all events. She shuddered and +clung to Henry's arm. It was all too plain that they were in the vortex +of godlessness, but even as the realization of this was borne to her on +the winged speech of the driver, Mrs. Smith was conscious of an inward +thrill. It was awful, but it was life--not life as lived in Clayton +Centre, but certainly a life that already gained in excitement and +interest from that fact. Unconsciously craning her thin neck farther +out of the cab window, she drank in with a fearful joy the roar and +excitement of Broadway, the shouts of drivers, the clang of +trolley-cars. Her faded eyes gleamed as she saw the brilliant lights of +the great thoroughfare whose illuminated signs met her glance at every +turn. + +Arrived at the hotel, the cabman accepted the two dollars, dumped the +bride's trunk on the sidewalk, and drove off with an alacrity designed +to prevent any further discussion of rates. Mr. Smith surrendered his +hand-bag to the bell-boy who was reaching out impatient hands for it, +grasped his wife's arm, and, following his small guide, walked firmly +into the presence of the hotel clerk. It was a trying moment for him as +he dragged that aloof personality down to his level, but details were +arranged with surprising ease, barring so strange a lack of sympathy. +As soon as he had expressed his few and simple wishes he found himself +and his wife being guided to a lift, and with wonderful simplicity put +in possession of a comfortable room on the third floor. Here the shades +were drawn down, a pitcher of ice-water was hospitably placed on the +stand, and a cheery fire was started on the small hearth. Over this +last extravagance the bride faintly demurred, but Henry silenced her +with his simple grandeur of insistence. It was a cool November evening, +and he had noticed that she shivered in her thin wrap as they drove +up-town. + +"I jest intend makin' yeh comfortable," he announced, masterfully. + +It was something of an ordeal to go down to dinner half an hour later, +but they met it bravely, walking stiffly into the crowded dining-room, +and looking to neither the right nor the left as they followed the +headwaiter to their places. The discovery that they had exclusive +possession of a small table was a matter of joyful surprise to them +both, on which they freely commented. The daintiness of the linen, the +gleam of silver, the perfection of the service, and the soft glow of +candles under silk shades, filled their simple country souls with awe. +It suggested unconjectured expense with a tang of wickedness as well. +Off in an alcove, screened by palms, an orchestra played with +considerate softness. Mr. Smith smiled a large, expansive smile and +leaned back in his chair. The moment was perfect. His apprehensions +were over for the time. Maria was with him, she was his, and he was +giving her all this. Could an Astor or a Vanderbilt offer more to the +woman of his heart? Henry Smith looked at the plush and gilding about +him, and read his answer. + +He experienced a rude awakening. A silent waiter stood beside him, +offering for his inspection an elaborate menu. The letters danced +before his eyes as Henry looked at them. What did they mean, anyhow, +and how did one pick out what one wanted, he wondered. Or, perchance, +was one expected gracefully to consume everything? His momentary +self-sufficiency died on the instant, and sickening fears of making a +mistake before Maria's eyes again overcame him. A great longing filled +him to appear to advantage, to do the thing properly, whatever it was. +On a sudden inspiration he leaned toward the waiter. + +"Say," he said, confidentially, "you jest bring us two good +dinners--the best of everything you've got--and I'll make it all right +with yeh." He surveyed the waiter's face anxiously as he spoke, his own +clearing as it remained quietly respectful. + +"Very well, sir; certainly, sir," said the servant, promptly. "Oysters +first, sir, I suppose, and a little green-turtle soup; a bit of fish, +perhaps--we've some very nice sole in to-day, sir; a bird--the +partridge and grouse are excellent, sir; a salad, and an ice. Any wine, +sir? No, sir? Yes, sir." He was gone, and Mr. Smith wiped his +perspiring brow. Maria was gazing at him with simple love and trust. + +"I declare, Henry," she murmured, "you do it all just 's if you'd be'n +doin' it every day of your life. Where'd you learn?" + +Mr. Smith made a vague gesture repudiating the charge, but his face +shone and he sat straighter in his chair. He dared not boast, for he +knew there were crucial moments coming, but so far there had been no +catastrophes and his courage grew with each achievement. When Maria +looked doubtfully at her oysters, and, joyfully recognizing them, +wondered audibly why they were not made into a stew instead of being +presented in this semi-nude condition, he was able, after a piercing +glance at near-by tables, to set her right with easy authority. + +"They eat 'em this way in New York," he said, swallowing one himself +and endeavoring, with indifferent success, to look as if he liked it. +Maria followed his example, rather gingerly and not as one who ventures +on a new joy. Her interest remained equally vague when the soup and +fish successively appeared. When the partridge was served, however, +with bread sauce and French pease and currant jelly, the gratifying +experience of finally "having something really on the plate" moved her +to alert appreciation, and she proceeded to eat her dinner with an +expression of artless and whole-souled relief. She was able to point +out to Henry, as a bit of prandial small-talk, that the orchestra was +playing "Nancy Brown"--a classic ditty whose notes had reached even +Clayton Centre. It was at this stimulating point of the dinner, also, +that she felt privileged for the first time to remove her gloves, +glance at the other tables and the clothes of the women, and talk +freely to her husband. Hitherto she had "conversed" under pressure. + +The waiter, offering her a second helping of jelly, saw, shining in her +hair, several grains of rice. The discovery exhilarated but did not +surprise him. His mien was one of fatherly interest five minutes later +as he presented a small bottle for Mr. Smith's inspection. + +"Champagne, sir," he murmured. "Not too dry for the lady's taste, sir. +Thought you'd like a glass--special occasion, sir--" + +His eloquence died away under the startled look in the bride's eyes, +but the groom met his happy suggestion with warm approval. + +"Jest the thing," he said, heartily. "It'll do you good, Maria. Doctors +give it when people ain't well, so you can take it 'thout any fear. 'N' +I guess you're feelin' pretty well, ain't you?" he grinned, broadly, +over this flash of humor. + +He motioned to the waiter to fill her glass, and that worthy did so and +retired behind her to give his courteous attention to the effect. + +They drank their champagne, and a faint color came to Maria's pale +cheeks. It was really a nice place, this hotel, she decided, and the +furnishing of this room was such as palaces might cope with in vain. +She had heard of their glories; now she could guess what those glories +were. The voices of other guests chatting around her mingled with the +music; Clayton Centre seemed very remote. At last she was seeing life. + +She felt no embarrassment as they left the table. They strolled slowly +down the dining-room and out into the palm-lined corridor on whose +plush chairs handsome men and beautifully dressed women sat and chatted +with surprising volubility and ease. Intrepidly the newcomers seated +themselves side by side where they could listen to the music and watch +the strange beings in this strange world. They were out of it all, and +even in the exhilaration of the moment they knew it; but their +aloofness from others added to the charm of the evening by drawing them +closer together. They gloried in the joint occupation of their little +island of happiness. For a long time they sat there, for Maria could +not be torn away. The music, the costumes and beauty of the women, the +delicate perfumes, the frequent ringing of bells, the hurrying back and +forth of bell-boys and hotel servants, were indescribably fascinating +to her. + +The next morning Mr. Smith, sternly recalling himself to the material +side of life, had a brief but pregnant chat with the clerk. He and his +wife wished to stay a few days at the hotel, he intimated, but it would +be advisable, before making their plans, to go somewhat into the +question of expense. How much, for instance, was their dinner last +night. He had signed a check, but his memory was hazy as to the amount. +His brain reeled when the clerk, having looked it up, gave him the +figures--$10.85. + +"Good Lord!" gasped Mr. Henry Smith. "I guess we'd better go back +to-day ef it's goin' to be THAT much!" + +He was too limp mentally to follow for a time the clerks remarks, but +light gradually broke upon him. He could henceforth take table d'hote +meals, paying sixty cents each for breakfast and luncheon for himself +and his wife, and one dollar each for their dinner. That would be only +four dollars and forty cents a day for all meals--and would make the +hotel bills much less than if one ordered by card, unless one +was--er--familiar with the prices. It was much less trouble, too. Mr. +Smith grasped the point and expansively shook the clerk's hand. His +relief was so great that he urged that youth to have a cigar, and the +youth in return volunteered information as to points of interest to +strangers in New York. + +"Better do the town to-day," he suggested. "Just go round and get a +general view--Broadway, Fifth Avenue, the shops, and all that. Then +to-night you'd better go to the play. I think you'd enjoy 'The White +Cat' as much as anything." + +Armed with definite information as to the most direct route to +Broadway, Mr. Smith sought his bride. He found her in the corridor, +watching the people come and go, her thin face flushed and animated. + +"Oh, Henry," she cried, eagerly, "I declare I'm having the most +interestin' time! Those folks over there--you know, the ones that has +the room next to ours--ain't spoke to each other sence breakfast. Do +you think they've quarrelled, the poor dears?" + +He gave but perfunctory attention to "the poor dears," his duties as +prospective cicerone filling his thoughts. Maria's face fell as he +outlined their plans for the day. + +"Well, if you feel to go, Henry," she said, doubtfully, "but it's SO +interestin' here. I feel 's if I knew all these folks. I wish we could +stay here this mornin', anyhow, 'n' not git out in those dreadful +crowded streets jest yet." + +He sat down beside her with a promptness which evoked a startled shriek +from an absorbed young person reading near them. + +"Then we'll stay right here," he announced, kindly. "We're here, 'Ria, +to do jest what you want, an' we're goin' to do it." + +She gave him an adoring look, and under its radiance Mr. Smith promptly +forgot the small claims of Broadway. Siberia with Maria in it would +have blossomed like the rose for Henry Smith, and the wide, cheerful +corridors of the Berkeley were far removed from Siberia's atmosphere. +Side by side and blissfully happy, they whiled the morning hours away. +After luncheon Henry again tentatively touched on sight-seeing. + +"'Tain't far," he said. He consulted the slip of directions the clerk +had given him, and went on expansively, "We take the cross-town line at +Fifty-ninth Street, transfer to a Broadway car--" + +Maria shivered. "My, Henry," she quavered, "that sounds dreadful mixed. +I'm afraid we'll get lost." + +Henry's own soul was full of dark forebodings, and he inwardly welcomed +the respite her words gave him. + +"Well, then, don't let's go," he said, easily, "till to-morrow, anyhow. +We got plenty o' time. We'll stay here, an' to-night we'll go to see a +play." + +Like the morning, the afternoon passed sweetly. Henry made the +discovery that the hotel cafe at the right of the reception-room was a +popular resort for men guests of the hotel, and his researches into +their pleasures led to an introduction to a Manhattan cocktail. He +returned to Maria's side an ardent convert to her theory that the hotel +was the pleasantest place in New York. Subsequently, as he sampled a +Martini, one or two men chatted with him for a moment, giving him a +delightful sense of easy association with his peers. Maria, in the mean +time, had formed a pleasing acquaintance with the parlor maid, and had +talked freely to several little children. It was with reluctance that +they tore themselves away from the corridor long enough to go in to +dinner. + +The table d'hote dinner, served in another room, was much less +elaborate than the banquet of the night before, but neither of them +realized the difference. Good in itself, to them it was perfection, and +Maria recognized almost as old friends familiar faces of fellow hotel +guests at the tables around her. When the question of the theatre came +up she was distinctly chilling. + +"We'll go if you want to, Henry," she said, "but the band's goin' to +play all evening, an' the maid said some of the young folks has got up +a dance in the little ball-room. Wouldn't you like to see it?" + +Henry decided that he would. He had, in fact, no rabid wish to see a +play, and the prospect of piloting Maria safely to the centre of the +town and home was definitely strenuous. He drank another cocktail after +dinner, smoked a cigar with a Western travelling man, exchanged sage +views on politics with that gentleman, and happily spent the remainder +of the evening by his Maria's side, watching the whirling young things +in the small ball-room. The happiest of them were sad, indeed, compared +with Henry Smith. + +The next morning the cheerful voice of the clerk greeted him as he came +from the dining-room. + +"Where to-day, Mr. Smith?" inquired that affable youth. "How about the +Horse Show? You surely ought to look in on that." He wrote on a card +explicit directions for arriving at the scene of this diversion, and +Mr. Smith, gratefully accepting it, hastened to his bride's side. He +found her full of another project. + +"Oh, Henry," she cried, "they's going to be a lecture here in the hotel +this mornin', by a lady that's been to Japan. All the money she gets +for tickets will go to the poor. I guess she'll ask as much as +twenty-five cents apiece, but I think we better go." + +Sustained by a cocktail, and strengthened by the presence of his Maria, +Mr. Smith attended the lecture, cheerfully paying two dollars for the +privilege, but refraining from dampening his wife's joy by mentioning +the fact. In the afternoon he broached the Horse Show. Maria's face +paled. To her it meant an exaggerated county fair, with its attendant +fatigue. + +"You go, Henry," she urged. "You jest go an' enjoy yourself. I feel too +tired--I really do. I'd rather stay home--here--an' rest. We don't +really have to do nothing we don't want to, do we?" + +Honest Henry Smith, whose working-day in Clayton Centre began at five +in the morning and ended at six at night, and whose evenings were +usually spent in the sleep of utter exhaustion, found himself relaxing +deliciously under her words. It was good, very good, to rest, and to +know they didn't HAVE to do things unless they wished. + +"I won't, neither, go alone," he announced. "I ain't anxious to go. I'd +ruther stay here with you. We'll go some other time." + +The white-capped maid smiled as she passed them; the palms nodded as to +old friends. The seductive charms of the Berkeley corridors again +wrapped them round. + +"Going to see some of the pictures to-day?" asked the clerk, on the +third morning, cheerfully doing his duty by the strangers as he +conceived it. "Better go to Central Park first and the Metropolitan +Museum, then to the private exhibitions. Here's the list. Take a +cross-town car to Fifth Avenue, and a 'bus to Eighty-first Street, and +after the Park a Fifth Avenue 'bus will drop you at the other places." + +Apprehension settled over Henry Smith, rudely disturbing his +lotos-eater's sense of being. He felt almost annoyed by this +well-meaning but indefatigable young man who seemed to think folks +should be gadding all the time. His manner was unresponsive as he took +the addresses. + +"I'll see what my wife says," he remarked, indifferently. + +His wife said what he believed and hoped she would say. + +"We ain't goin' home till to-morrow afternoon," she observed, "an' we +can see Central Park to-morrow mornin' if we want to. They's a woman +here that does up hair for fifty cents, an' I thought if yeh didn't +mind, Henry, I'd have her do mine--" + +Henry urged her to carry out this happy inspiration. "She can't make +yeh look any nicer, though," he added, gallantly. Then, as Maria +surrendered herself and their room to the hairdresser's ministrations, +he visited the bar, chatted with his friend the clerk, and smoked a +good cigar. Afterward he selected a comfortable chair in the corridor +where he was to meet Maria, stretched his long legs, dozed, and found +it good to be alive. + +A befrizzled Maria, whose scant hair stood out in startling Marcel +waves, confronted him at luncheon-time. A sudden inspiration shook him +to his depths. + +"Don't you want to go down-town and have your picture took?" he urged. +"Let's have ours done together." + +Maria was proof against even this lure. She had a better idea. + +"They's a photograph man right here in the hotel," she chirped, +joyously. "He's next to the flower-shop, an' we can go right in through +that little narrow hall." + +They went, subsequently carrying home with them as their choicest +treasure the cabinet photograph for which they had posed side by side, +with the excitement of New York life shining in their honest eyes. In +the evening the clerk suggested a concert. + +"It's a fine one, at Carnegie Hall, right near here," he urged, +cheerfully, "and Sembrich is to sing, with the Symphony Orchestra. You +can get in for fifty cents if you don't mind sitting in the gallery. +You really ought to go, Mrs. Smith; you would enjoy it." + +Mrs. Smith turned upon him an anxious eye. + +"How far did you say 'twas?" she asked, warily. + +"Oh, not ten minutes' ride. You take the car here at the corner--" + +But the mention of the car blighted the budding purpose in Maria's soul. + +"I feel real tired," she said, quickly, "but if my husband wants to +go--" + +Her husband loudly disavowed any such aspiration. + +"We got a long journey before us to-morrow," he said, "an' I guess we +better rest." + +They rested in the Berkeley corridor, amid the familiar sights and +scenes. The following morning found them equally disinclined for +sight-seeing. Seated in their favorite chairs, they watched the throngs +of happy people who came and went around them. Henry had added to the +list of his acquaintances two more travelling men and the boy at the +news-counter. His wife had heard in detail the sad story of her +chambermaid's life, and a few facts and surmises about fellow-guests at +the hotel. + +Maria drew a long sigh when, after they had paid their bill the next +day and bade farewell to the clerk and other new friends, they climbed +into the cab which was to take them to the station. + +"My, but it was interestin'!" she said, softly; adding, with entire +conviction, "Henry, I 'ain't never had such a good time in my hull +life! I really 'ain't!" + +"Neither have I," avowed Henry, truthfully. "Wasn't it jest bully!" + +On the train a sudden thought occurred to Mrs. Smith. + +"Henry," she began, uneasily, "s'pose any one asks what we've SEEN in +New York. What'll we tell 'em? You know, somehow we didn't seem t' git +time t' see much." + +Henry Smith was equal to the emergency. + +"We'll say we seen so much we can't remember it," he said, shamelessly. +"Don't you worry one bit about that, Maria Smith. I've always heard +that weddin' couples don't never really see nothin' on their weddin' +towers, anyhow--they gad an' gad, an' it don't do no good. We was wiser +not to try!" + + + + + X + +THE CASE OF KATRINA + + +My memory of Katrina goes back to the morning when, at the tender age +of ten, she was violently precipitated into our classroom. The motive +power, we subsequently learned, was her brother Jacob, slightly older +than Katrina, whose nervous system had abruptly refused the ordeal of +accompanying her into the presence of the teacher. Pushing the door +ajar until the opening was just large enough to admit her, he thrust +her through, following her fat figure for a second with one anxious eye +and breathing audibly in his excitement. The next instant the cheerful +clatter of his hob-nailed boots echoed down the hall, followed by a +whoop of relief as he emerged upon the playground. + +It was Katrina's bearing as she stood, thus rudely projected into our +lives, endeavoring to recover her equilibrium, and with thirty pairs of +eyes fixed unswervingly upon her, that won my heart and Jessica's. +Owing to a fervid determination of our teacher to keep us well in view, +we sat in the front row, directly facing her. Having, even in our +extreme youth, a constitutional distaste to missing anything, we +undoubtedly stared at Katrina longer and harder than any of the others. +We smiled, too, largely and with the innocent abandon of childhood; and +Katrina smiled back at us as if she also tasted a subtle flavor of the +joke, lost to cruder palates. Then she shifted her tiny school-bag from +one hand to the other, swept the room with a thoughtful glance, and +catching sight of frantic gestures I was making, obeyed them by walking +casually to an empty seat across from my own, where she sat down with +deepening dimples and an air of finality. + +Several moments subsequently our teacher, Miss Merrill, aroused herself +from the trance into which she apparently had been thrown by the +expeditiousness with which this incident was accomplished, and coming +to Katrina's side, ratified the arrangement, incidentally learning the +new pupil's name and receiving from her hand a card, written by the +principal and assigning her to our special grade. But long before these +insignificant details were completed, Jessica and I had emptied +Katrina's bag, arranged her books in her desk, lent her a pencil she +lacked, indicated to her the boy most to be scorned and shunned, given +her in pantomime the exact standing of Miss Merrill in the regard of +her pupils, and accepted in turn the temporary loan of the spruce-gum +with which she had happily provided herself. At recess the acquaintance +thus auspiciously begun ripened into a warm friendship, and on the way +home from school that night we made a covenant of eternal loyalty and +love, and told one another the stories of our lives. + +Jessica's and mine were distressingly matter-of-fact. We were both +supplied with the usual complement of parents, brothers, and sisters, +and, barring the melancholy condition that none of them, of course, +understood our complex natures, we had nothing unusual to chronicle. +But Katrina's recital was of an interest. She was, to begin with, an +orphan, living with two brothers and an old uncle in a large and gloomy +house we had often noticed as it stood with its faded back turned +coldly to Evans Avenue. Seemingly her pleasures and friends were few. +Once a month she went to the cemetery to put flowers on her father's +and mother's graves. Katrina herself seemed uncertain as to whether +this pilgrimage properly belonged in the field of pleasure or the stern +path of duty; but Jessica and I classified it at once, and dropped an +easy tear. We hoped her uncle was grim and stern, and did not give her +enough to eat. This, we felt, would have made the melancholy picture of +Katrina's condition most satisfyingly complete. But when we sought +eagerly for such details, Katrina, with shameless indifference to +dramatic possibilities, painted for us an unromantic, matter-of-fact +old German, kind to her when he remembered her existence, but submerged +in his library and in scientific research. We further learned that they +ate five meals a day at Katrina's home, with "coffee" and numerous +accompaniments in between. Moreover, Katrina's school-bag bulged at the +sides with German cakes of various shapes and composition. Our stern +disapproval of these was tempered in time by the fact that she freely +shared them with us. We were not surprised to discover also, though +these revelations came later, that the old house-keeper had difficulty +in keeping buttons on the child's frocks, and that Katrina was addicted +to surreptitious consumption of large cucumber pickles behind her +geography in school hours. These were small faults of an otherwise +beautiful nature, and stimulating to our youthful fancy in the +possibilities they suggested. Unquestioningly we accepted Katrina as a +being to be loved, pitied, and spared the ruder shocks of life. +Lovingly we sharpened her pencils, cheerfully we covered her books, +unenthusiastically but patiently we wrote her compositions; for +Katrina's mind worked slowly, and literature was obviously not her +forte. In return, Katrina blossomed and existed and shed on us the +radiance of a smile which illumined the dim school-room even as her +optimistic theories of life leavened our infant pessimism. + +Time swept us on, out of childhood school-rooms into the dignified +shades of the academy, and Katrina developed from a fat little girl +with yellow braids into a plump young person with a rather ordinary +complexion, some taste in dress, and a really angelic smile. As a +possible explanation of her lack of interest in intellectual pursuits, +she explained to us that she continued to attend school only because +her uncle suggested nothing else. Whatever the reason, we were glad to +have her there; and though we still did most of her work, and she +carefully refrained from burdening her mind with academic knowledge, +the tie between us was strengthened, if anything, by the fact. Jessica +and I were already convinced that more was being put into us than two +small heads could hold. It was a grateful as well as a friendly task to +pass the surplus on to Katrina. + +When we were seventeen, Jessica and I were told that we were to be sent +East to college, and Katrina's uncle, first stimulating thought by +pushing his spectacles back upon his brow, decided that she was already +sufficiently burdened by education, and that the useful arts of the +_Hausfrau_ should engage her attention forthwith. She should keep house +for him and her brothers, he announced, until she carried out her +proper mission in life by marrying and having babies. With this +oracular utterance he closed further discussion by burying himself once +more in his library, while Katrina came to tell us his decision. + +She had looked forward to the pleasing social aspects of college life, +so she seemed slightly disappointed, did Katrina, and the end of her +nose held certain high lights. But aside from this evidence of sorrow +she made no protest against the peremptory masculine shaping of her +future. Stricken to the heart, Jessica and I stormed, begged, implored, +wept. Katrina opposed to our eloquence the impassive front of a pink +sofa-cushion. + +"My uncle says it," she sighed, and was silent. + +Jessica and I were not the natures to remain inactive at such a crisis. +We appealed to her brothers, who promptly declined to express any +opinion in the matter beyond a general conviction that their uncle was +right in all things. Baffled, we proceeded to beard the uncle in his +den. We found him wearing worn carpet slippers, a faded dressing-gown, +a serene expression, and an air of absorption in science which did not +materially lift at our approach. He listened to us patiently, however, +greeting our impassioned climaxes with long-drawn "ach so's," which +Jessica subsequently confided to me brought to birth in her the first +murderous impulse of a hitherto blameless life. Once we experienced +high hopes, when Jessica, whose conscience had seemingly not +accompanied us to the conference, dwelt feelingly on Katrina's unusual +intellectual achievements at the academy. Her uncle grew very grave at +this, and his "ach so's" rolled about in the bare old library like +echoes of distant thunder. + +"Ach, that is bad," he sighed; "I did not think it; I was careless. I +should have taken her away sooner, is it not so? But she will quickly +forget--yes, yes." His face cleared. "It will do her no harm," he went +on. "It is not good that the women know too much. _Kirche, Kinder, und +Kuchen_--that is best for them. Ach, yes." + +There being obviously little to gain by prolonging this painful +discussion, Jessica and I bore our outraged sensibilities to the +calming atmosphere of our homes. And in due time, our trunks being +packed and our farewells said, we departed to apply our thirsty lips to +the fountain of knowledge flowing at the Eastern college, leaving +Katrina to embark upon her domestic career. + +Time and distance, we reminded Katrina, could be bridged by letters, +and Katrina responded nobly to the hint. She wrote every day at first, +and we consumed most of our waking hours in inditing our replies. There +seemed, indeed, little else to engage our attention in a community +which was experiencing great difficulty in recalling our names and was +in heathen darkness as to our brilliant achievements at the academy. As +time passed, however, we grew more busy. For a few months the necessity +of asserting our individuality to an extent which would at least +prevent our being trodden upon in the halls engaged our attention, and +after that a conscientious imitation of loved ones in the Junior class +occupied much time. + +The great news of Katrina's engagement fanned into a fierce flame the +warm embers of our friendship. Oh, joy, oh romance, oh, young, young +love! We wrote Katrina forty pages of congratulations, and Katrina +coyly but fully replied. We could almost see her rosy blushes as she +bent over the pages of her long letters to us. Her future lord was a +German, a professor in the Lutheran college in our native city, and, it +seemed, though Katrina dwelt but lightly on the fact, somewhat past the +first fine flush of youth. So much Katrina naively conveyed to us, with +the further information that the wedding was to be early in February, +because Professor von Heller, the happy bridegroom, seemed +unaccountably to be in haste, and had bought a home, to which he was +anxious to take her. + +There was much in all this to arouse our girlish enthusiasm; the charms +of our beloved Juniors paled into temporary insignificance as we +followed Katrina's love-affair. We could not go home for the wedding, +for reasons which seemed sufficient to the faculty, and this was a +bitter blow. But we spent more than we could afford on the +wedding-present we sent Katrina, and we still occupied most of our +waking hours writing to her. + +The wedding, according to Katrina's account, was in the nature of a +brilliant social function. She found time during her honeymoon to write +us lengthy accounts of its splendors. She obviously had taken +considerable satisfaction in the presence of the entire faculty of +Professor von Heller's college and in the effect of her gown, which was +of white satin, with orange-blossoms. She also sent us a box of her +wedding-cake, some of which we ate and upon the rest of which we +conscientiously slumbered, experiencing horrible nightmares. Then, as +the weeks passed, her letters became less frequent, and we, in turn, +whirling in the maelstrom of spring examinations, gave to her paradise +the tribute of an occasional envious thought and respected her happy +silence. + +When we went home for our summer vacation our first caller, most +properly, was Katrina. She was a subdued, rather chastened Katrina, +whose thoughtful, slightly puzzled expression might have suggested to +maturer minds that some, at least, of the vaunted joys of domestic life +had thus far escaped her. She urged us to come to her at once--the next +day, in fact--and we accepted her invitation with the alacrity it +deserved. We could not dine with her, we explained, as Jessica's sister +had thoughtlessly made another engagement for us; but we would come at +two and remain until after five, unbosoming ourselves of the year's +experiences in a long talk and listening to the wisdom that flowed from +Katrina's lips. + +The next day was very beautiful, and Jessica and I, casting off a +haunting suspicion of our individual unimportance which we had not +quite succeeded in leaving behind us at college, expanded joyfully, and +lent ourselves to the charms of a sunlit world. The Lutheran fount of +knowledge was on the edge of the city, and Katrina's home was a short +distance beyond it. It was quite a country place, this home, over the +big, bare lawn of which an iron dog fiercely mounted guard. A +weather-beaten house confronted us, with a cold, forbidding expression. +We felt chilled as we opened the gate, but Katrina presented herself at +the first click of its latch, and her welcome was so hospitable and +eager that our temporary constraint vanished. Simultaneously we fell +upon her neck; loudly we assured her of our envious delight; noisily we +trooped into her hall. As we entered it, a large, cheerful room +confronted us. Through its open door we could see soft, leather-covered +easy-chairs and big windows overlooking distant hills. Jessica started +toward this, but Katrina checked her with a gentle touch. + +"Not there," she said, gravely; "that is my husband's study, and he may +come in any moment. _This_ is our sitting-room." + +She opened another door as she spoke, and we followed her dazedly +across the threshold into a space which, properly utilized, might have +made a comfortable single sleeping-room. It was quite seven feet by +nine and had one window, looking out on a dingy barn. The painted floor +was partly covered by a rug. Katrina's zither stood stiffly in a +corner, three chairs backed themselves sternly against the wall. +Katrina indicated two of these, and dropped on the third with her +radiant smile. + +"We use this as the sitting-room," she remarked, casually, "because my +husband needs plenty of light and space when he works. Oh, my dear +girls!" she broke out; "you don't know how glad I am to see you! Tell +me everything that has happened since we met--all about college and +your friends there." + +As she spoke, there was the sound of heavy footsteps in the hall, +followed by the noisy opening and shutting of a door. The pushing about +of chairs in the next room and the drop of a heavy body into one of +them suggested that the professor was at home and in his study. Katrina +corroborated this surmise. + +"My husband," she murmured, with a little blush. "He is early to-day." + +The words were drowned by a roar. + +"Katrina," bellowed a bass voice of startling depth, "bring my +slippers!" + +Katrina rose on the instant. + +"You will excuse me?" she said, hastily. "Talk till I come back." + +We did not talk, having some abysmal suspicion that if we talked we +might say something. I gazed steadily at a little German picture on the +wall--one I had given our hostess years before--and Jessica hummed a +college-song under her breath. We heard Katrina's feet fly up-stairs, +down again, and into the study. Almost immediately she returned to us, +her cheeks pink from her exertions. + +"Now," she began, "I want to hear all about it--the nicest teachers, +the chums who have taken my place." + +The voice in the next room boomed out again. + +"Ka-tri-na!" it bellowed. "My pipe! It is up-stairs." + +Katrina departed for the pipe. Jessica and I indulged in the luxury of +a long, comprehending gaze into the depths of each other's eyes. +Katrina returned, and we all talked at once; for five minutes +reminiscences and confidences flowed with the freedom of a mountain +stream after a thaw. + +"Ka-tri-na!" + +Katrina sat still. She was listening to the end of Jessica's best +story, but one willing foot went forward tentatively. + +"Ka-tri-na!" Katrina should have heard that call though she lay with +folded hands beside her mother 'neath the church-yard mould. + +"Katrina, get me Haeckel's _Wonders of Life!_" + +Katrina got it, by the simple and effective process of going into the +room where the professor sat and taking it from its shelf. We heard the +soft murmur of her voice, fallowed by the rumble of his. When she +returned to us, Jessica finished her story in the chastened spirit +which follows such an interruption, and there were ten minutes of talk. +We forgot the bare little room; old memories softly enfolded us; the +Katrina we knew and loved dominated the situation. + +"Ka-tri-na!" + +Katrina's soft lips were not smiling now, but she rose at once, and +with a murmured apology left the room. We heard the suggestion of the +rest of her task as she closed the door. + +"Where is that box of pens I got last week?" + +Apparently their lurking-place was a distant one; Katrina's absence was +long. When she returned, she volunteered to show us the house. We +surmised that her desire was to get away from the sound of that +summoning voice, and even as we rose we realized the futility of such +an effort. + +The dining-room, into which she led us for cake and tea, was almost +comfortable. Its furniture, dark, serviceable oak, was a gift, Katrina +told us, from her uncle. Twice as she served the tea she responded to a +summons from the professor's study. Once he desired a handkerchief, and +the second time he wished an important letter posted at once. His wife +went out to the rural box which adorned the fence in front of the house +and cast the envelope into its yawning mouth. Returning, she showed us +her kitchen, an immaculate spot, the floor of which was evidently +scrubbed by her own hands, for she mentioned that she employed no +servant. + +"Hans thinks we do not need one," she added, simply. + +To the right of the dining-room was a fine, bright, cheerful room, full +of shelves on which stood innumerable jars and bottles of evil odor. + +"My husband's laboratory," announced Katrina, proudly. "He has to have +light and air." + +Up-stairs there was a bedroom containing a huge double bed; a companion +room off this was evidently used by the professor as a dressing-room +and store-room. His clothes and several startling German trunks filled +it. There were other rooms, but not one of them contained a rug or a +piece of furniture. Slowly, convincingly, the knowledge entered our +sentimental little hearts that Katrina's sole refuge for herself and +her friends was the tiny, so-called "sitting-room" down-stairs. She +continued to show us about with housewifely pride. So far as we could +see, her unconsciousness of her wrongs was complete. She was wholly +untouched by self-pity. + +"Do you mean to say--" began Jessica, warmly, and then suddenly +realized that she herself could not say it. It was as well, for there +was no opportunity. Even as Katrina was beginning to explain that her +husband did not think it necessary to complete the furnishing of the +house for a year or two, he summoned her to his side by a megaphonic +demand for water to thin his ink. His impatience for this overcame his +obvious aversion to exertion, and he came into the hall to take it from +her hand as we descended the stairs. She introduced him to us, and he +bowed gravely and with considerable dignity. He had a massive head, +with iron-gray, curling hair, and near-sighted eyes, which peered at us +vaguely through large, steel-rimmed spectacles. He surveyed us, not +unpleasantly, but wholly without interest, nodded again, partly to +himself and partly to us, as if our appearance had confirmed some dark +surmise of his own, took the water from Katrina's hand, grunted an +acknowledgment, and retreated to his fastness in the study. He had not +spoken one articulate word. Even Katrina, smiling her untroubled smile, +seemed to feel that something in the situation demanded a word of +comment. + +"He is not at ease with girls," she murmured, gently. "He has taught +only boys, and he does not understand women; but he has a kind heart." + +Jessica and I ruminated thoughtfully upon this tribute as we went away. +We had learned through the innocent prattle of our hostess's busy +tongue that she desired a garden, but that Hans thought it a waste of +time; that she had suggested open plumbing, and that Hans declined to +go to the expense; that she saw little of her brothers nowadays, as +Hans did not approve of them; that her old friends came to see her +rarely since her marriage, as, for some reason unaccountable to +Katrina, they seemed not to like her husband. We waited until we were +out of sight of the house, and then seated ourselves gloomily on a +wayside rock under a sheltering tree. A robin, perched on a branch +above our heads, burst into mocking song. The sun still shone; I +wondered how it could. + +"Well, of all the selfish beasts and unmanageable brutes!" Jessica +began, hotly. Jessica's language was frequently too strong for +elegance, and even at this exciting moment my sense of duty forced me +to call the fact to her attention. I moreover, essayed judicious +weighing of the situation as the most effective means of cooling her +off. + +"If the secret of happiness is work, as most authorities agree," I +reminded Jessica, "Professor von Heller's wife ought to be the happiest +bride in this country." + +Jessica turned one disgusted glance upon me, rose with dignity, and +moved haughtily down the road to a street-car which was bumping its way +toward us on its somewhat uneven track. + +"Oh, well, if you are going to be funny over a tragedy in which one of +your dearest friends is a victim," she observed, icily, "we will not +discuss the matter. But I, for one, have learned a lesson: I know _now_ +what matrimony is." + +I had a dim sense that even this experience, interesting and educative +though it was, could not be fairly regarded as a post-graduate course +in matrimonial knowledge, and I ventured to say so. + +Jessica set her teeth and declined to discuss the matter further, +resolutely turning the conversation to the neutral topic of a cat-bird +which was mewing plaintively in a hedge behind us. Late that night, +however, she awoke me from my innocent slumbers with a request for +knowledge as to the correct spelling of _irrevocable_ and +_disillusionment_. She was at her desk, writing hard, with her brows +knit into an elaborate pattern of cross-stitching. I knew the moment I +looked upon her set young face that the missive was to Arthur Townsend +Jennings, the brother of a classmate, whose letter urging her to "wait +five years" for him Jessica had received only that morning. It was +quite evident, even to the drowsiest observation, that Jessica was not +promising to wait. + +Jessica's pessimism on the subject of matrimony dated from that hour, +and grew with each day that followed. Coldly, even as she had turned +from the plea of Arthur Townsend Jennings, did she turn from all other +suitors. She grew steadily in charm and beauty, and her opportunities +to break hearts were, from the susceptible nature of man, of an almost +startling frequency. Jessica grasped each one with what seemed even to +my loyal eyes diabolical glee. She was an avenging Nemesis, hot on the +trail of man. Grave professors, Harvard, Yale, and Princeton Juniors +and Seniors, loyal boy friends of her youth who came in manhood to lay +their hearts at her feet--all of these and more Jessica sent forth from +her presence, a long, stricken procession. "I know _now_ what matrimony +is," was Jessica's battle-cry. If, in a thoughtless partisan spirit, I +sought to say a good word for one of her victims, pointing out his +material advantages or his spiritual graces, or both, Jessica turned +upon me with a stern reminder. "Have you forgotten Katrina?" she would +ask. As I had not forgotten Katrina, the question usually silenced me. + +For myself, I must admit, Jessica's Spartan spirit had its effect as an +example. Left alone to work out the problem according to my elemental +processes, I might possibly have arrived at the conclusion that +Katrina's domestic infelicity, assuming that it existed, need not +necessarily spread a sombre pall over the entire institution of +matrimony. But Jessica's was a dominant personality, and I was easily +influenced. In my humble way I followed her example; and though, +lacking her beauty and magnetism, the havoc I wrought was vastly less +than hers, I nevertheless succeeded in temporarily blighting the lives +of two middle-aged professors, one widower in the dry-goods line, and +the editor of a yellow newspaper. This last, I must admit, my heart +yearned over. I earnestly desired to pluck him from the burning, so to +speak, and assist him to find the higher nature of which he had +apparently entirely lost sight. There was something singularly pleasing +to me in the personality of this gentleman, but Jessica would have none +of him. I finally agreed to be a maiden aunt to him, and, this happy +compromise effected, I was privileged to see him frequently. If at any +time I faltered, quoting him too often on the political problems of the +day, or thoughtlessly rereading his letters in Jessica's presence, she +reminded me of Katrina. I sighed, and resumed the mantle, so to speak, +of the maiden aunt. Unlike Katrina, I never had been good at running +errands, and now, in my early thirties, I was taking on stoutness: it +was plain that the risk of matrimony was indeed too great. + +For we had been growing older, Jessica and I, and many things more or +less agreeable had happened to us. We had been graduated with high +honors, we had spent four years abroad in supplementary study, and we +had then returned to the congenial task of bringing education up to +date in our native land. We taught, and taught successfully; and our +girls went forth and married, or studied or taught, and came back to +show us their babies or their theses, according to the character of +their productiveness. We fell into the routine of academic life. +Occasionally, at longer intervals as the years passed, an intrepid man, +brushing aside the warnings of his anxious friends, presented himself +for the favor of Jessica, and was sternly sent to join the long line of +his predecessors. Life was full, life in its way was interesting, but +it must be admitted that life was sometimes rather lonely. My editor, +loyal soul that he was, wrote regularly, and came to see me twice a +year. Professor Herbert Adams, a victim long at Jessica's feet, made +sporadic departures from that position, and then humbly returned. These +two alone were left us. Jessica acquired three gray hairs and a +permanent crease in her intellectual brow. + +During all these changing scenes we had not seen Katrina. Under no +circumstances, after that first melancholy visit, would we willingly +have seen her again. At long intervals we heard from her. We knew there +were three fat babies, whose infant charms, hitherto unparalleled, were +caricatured in snapshots sent us by their proud mother. Jessica looked +at these, groaned, and dropped them into the dark corners of our study. +Our visits home were rare, and there had been no time in any of them +for a second call at the home of Professor von Heller. Seven years +after our return from Europe, however, Jessica decided that she needed +a rest and a summer in her native air. Moreover, she had just given +Professor Adams his final _conge_, and he had left her in high dudgeon. +I sapiently inferred that Jessica had found the experience something of +a strain. As Jessica acted as expeditiously in other matters as in +blighting lives, I need hardly add that we were transported to our home +town with gratifying despatch. We had stepped from the train at the end +of our journey before a satisfactory excuse for remaining behind had +occurred to me, and it was obviously of little avail to mention it +then. Twenty-four hours after the newspapers had chronicled the +exciting news of our arrival, Katrina called on us. + +We gasped as we looked at her. Was this, indeed, Katrina--this rosy, +robust, glowing, radiant German with shining eyes and with vitality +flowing from her like the current of an electric battery? I looked at +Jessica's faded complexion, the tired lines in her face, the white +threads in her dark hair, and my heart contracted suddenly. I knew how +I looked--vastly more tired, more faded than Jessica, for I had started +from a point nearer to these undesirable goals. We three were about the +same age. There were six months at the most between us. Who would +believe it to look at us together? + +Katrina seized us in turn, and kissed us on both cheeks. To me there +was something life-giving in the grasp of her strong, firm hands, in +the touch of her cool, soft lips. She insisted that we come to see her +and at once. When would we come? We had no excuse now, she pointed out, +and if we needed a rest, the farm--her home--was the best place in the +world for rest. With a faint access of hope I heard her. The farm? Had +she, then, moved? No, she was still in the same place, Katrina +explained, but the city had lurched off in another direction, leaving +her and Hans and the children undisturbed in their peaceful pastoral +life. + +"Ka-tri-na!" + +I almost jumped, but it was only a memory, helped on by my vivid fancy. +I had tried to picture the peaceful pastoral life, but all that +responded was the echo of that distant summons. Jessica, however, was +explaining that we would come--soon, very soon--next week--yes, +Tuesday, of course. Jessica subsequently inquired of me, with the +strong resentment of the person who is in the wrong, how I expected her +to get us out of it. It was something that had to be done. Obviously, +she said, it was one of those things to do and have done with. + +She discoursed languidly about Katrina in the interval between the +promise and the visit. + +"Well! Of course she's well," drawled Jessica. "She's the kind that +wouldn't know it if she wasn't well. For the rest, she's phlegmatic, +has no aspirations, and evidently no sensitiveness. All she asks is to +wait on that man and his children, and from our glimpse of Hans we can +safely surmise that he is still gratifying that simple aspiration. +Heavens! don't let's talk about it! It's too horrible!" + +Tuesday came, and we made our second visit to Katrina's--fourteen years +to a month from the time of our first. Again the weather was perfect, +but the years and professional cares had done their fatal work, and our +lagging spirits refused to respond to the jocund call of the day. Again +we approached, with an absurd shrinking, the bleak old house. The bleak +old house was not there; nay, it was there, but transformed. It was +painted red. Blossoming vines clambered over it; French windows +descended to meet its wide verandas; striped awnings sheltered its +rooms from the July sun. The lawns, sloping down to a close-clipped +hedge, were green and velvety. The iron dog was gone. A great hammock +swung in the corner of the veranda, and in it tumbled a fat, pink child +and a kitten. The fat child proved that all was not a dream. It was +Katrina reborn--the Katrina of that first day in school, twenty years +and more ago. Rather unsteadily we walked up the gravel path, rather +uncertainly we rang the bell. A white-capped maid ushered us in. Yes, +Frau von Heller was at home and expecting the ladies. Would the ladies +be gracious enough to enter? The ladies would. The ladies entered. + +The partition between two of the rooms had been taken down and the +entire floor made over. There was a wide hall, with a great living-room +at the right. As we approached it we heard the gurgle of a baby's +laugh, Katrina's answering ripple, and the murmur of a bass voice +buzzing like a cheerful bumblebee. Our footsteps were deadened by the +thick carpet, and our entrance did not disturb for a moment the +pleasing family tableau on which we gazed. The professor was standing +with his baby in his arms, his profile toward the door, facing his +wife, who was laughing up at him. The infant had grasped a handful of +his father's wavy gray hair and was making an earnest and gratifyingly +successful effort to drag it out by the roots. Von Heller's face, +certainly ten years younger than when we saw it last, was alight with +pride in this precocious offspring. Seeing us, he tossed the baby on +his shoulder, holding it there with one accustomed arm, and came to +meet us, his wife close by his side. They reached us together, but it +was the professor who gave us our welcome. This time he needed no +introduction. + +"My wife's friends, Miss Lawrence and Miss Gifford, is it not?" He +smiled, extending his big hand to each of us in turn, and giving our +hands a grip the cordiality of which made us wince. "It is a pleasure. +But you will excuse this young man, is it not?" He lowered the baby to +his breast as he spoke, while his wife fell upon our necks in +hospitable greeting. "He has no manners, this young man," added the +father, sadly, when Katrina had thus expressed her rapture in our +arrival. "He would yell if I put him down, and he has lungs--ach, but +he has lungs!" + +He busied himself drawing forth chairs for us, apparently quite +unhampered by his small burden. We contemplated the baby and said +fitting things. He had cheeks like beefsteaks and eyes that stuck out +of his head with what appeared to be joyful interest in his +surroundings Katrina exclaimed over a sudden discovery: + +"But you haven't taken off your hats!" she cried. "Hans, give the baby +to Gretchen and take my friends' wraps and hats up to the guest-room. I +don't want Miss Lawrence to climb stairs." + +The professor obediently summoned the nurse, dropped the baby, burdened +himself with our garments, and ambled off with the tread of a peaceful +elephant. When he returned, with the eager look of a retriever waiting +for another stick, his wife promptly met his hopes. + +"Arrange the easy-chair for Miss Lawrence, dear," she said, +comfortably, "and put an ottoman under her feet. I want her to rest +while she is here." + +The professor did it, while we gazed. He also inquired feelingly as to +the state of Jessica's health, showed a sympathy almost human in her +replies, and placed a pillow behind her back. Subsequently, during that +call, he did these things: + +He answered the telephone half a dozen times, faithfully repeating to +his wife the messages of her various friends, and carrying hers back, +as she declined to be torn from us long enough to talk to them herself. + +He rounded up the remaining two children and presented them for our +inspection, straightening his son's shoulders with an experienced hand, +and tying with consummate skill the bow on his little girl's hair. + +He went to the stable and ordered the family carriage, that we might +drive later in the afternoon. + +He searched for and found the morning newspaper, thoughtlessly dropped +in the waste-paper basket by the maid, and he read aloud to us a +paragraph to which Katrina had referred chronicling the achievements of +a classmate of ours. He brought to Katrina, at different times and from +remote parts of the house, one white shawl, six photographs of the +children, an essay written by their son, aged ten, two books, a bib to +meet a sudden need of the baby, and Katrina's address-book. He did +these things, and he did them cheerfully, and with the unmistakable +ease of frequent repetition. I glanced at Jessica. The expressions of +incredulity and amazement to which she had freely yielded during the +first half-hour of our call had given way to a look of deep reflection. + +Subsequently Katrina showed us her home. The room that had been the +professor's study was now part of the large general living-room. The +laboratory was now Katrina's personal sitting-room. Through its French +windows we saw Katrina's garden blossoming like the rose. Jessica asked +the present location of the professor's study and laboratory. She +subsequently admitted to me that she should not have done it, but that +to leave the house without the information would have been a physical +and moral impossibility. Katrina looked at her vaguely, as one seeking +to recall a fleeting moment of the long-dead past; but the professor +responded with gratified alacrity. + +"But you shall see them!" he cried. "Surely, yes;" and like a jovial +school-boy he led us up to the third floor. There, indeed, was his +study--a hall bedroom, much crowded by his desk and easy-chair; and off +it, in a closet, were his beloved bottles and chemicals. I felt a throb +of sympathy for the professor, but he was evidently blissfully ignorant +of any reason for such a sentiment. + +"The _Mutterchen_ and the babies need the rest," he smiled, +complacently. "They must not climb too many stairs--no;" and he led the +way back to comfort with unconsciousness of the painful contrast +between past and present conditions that made Jessica and me carefully +refrain from meeting each other's eyes. The children, when they espied +him upon our return, uttered shrieks of joy. The baby sprang to his +arms, the little boy swarmed up his leg. The picture of Professor von +Heller as a perfectly trained husband and father was complete. + +In silence, after our prolonged farewells, Jessica and I left the +house. In silence we entered the trolley-car; in silence we rode home. +At last I voiced a sudden suspicion. + +"Do you think," I asked, hopefully, "that it was all a--a--well, that +she persuaded him to do it just this once, for our edification?" + +Jessica shook her head. + +"I thought so, at first," she conceded, slowly. "That in itself would +have been a miracle--one I'd never believe if I hadn't seen it with +these eyes. But everything disproves the theory. Do you think she could +have trained those children to advance and retreat like a Casino +ballet? On the contrary, it's evident that they literally live on him. +They've worn the creases off his trousers! Didn't you notice where the +creases left off and the sliding-place of the babies began?" + +I reluctantly admitted that this detail had escaped my observation. +Jessica sighed. + +"Incredible as it is," she summed up, "it's all true. It's the real +thing." + +"It opens quite a vista," I observed, thoughtfully. "If you would like +Professor Adams's present address, I can give it to you. He is in the +Adirondacks with his sister Mollie, and I had a letter from her this +morning." + +Jessica looked at me and urged me not to be vulgar. Her thoughtful +expression did not lift. + +"If Katrina can do _that_ with _that_ man," I murmured, reflectively, +as we entered the house, "I really believe you could work wonders with +Adams. He would probably do the cooking and marketing--" + +"If you're so impressed," remarked Jessica, in incisive tones, "I +wonder you don't yield to the prayers and tears of your editor man." + +My reply made Jessica sink into a hall chair which was fortunately at +hand. + +"I am going to," I said, placidly. And I did. + +Jessica's nature being less womanly and yielding than mine, her +surrender was a matter of longer time. In the interval I quite forgot +her unimportant affairs, being wholly absorbed in the really +extraordinary values of my own. Two weeks before the reopening of +college, my reformed yellow journalist, who had come West to spend his +brief vacation with me, was seated by my side one evening studying the +admirable effect of a ring he had just placed on my finger. It is +singular how fraught with human interest such moments can be, and +Edward and I failed to hear Jessica as she opened the door. She looked +over our heads as she spoke to me, Her face was rather red, but her +voice and manner expressed a degree of indifference which I am +convinced no human being has ever really felt on any subject. + +"Did you say that you could give me Mollie Adams's address?" asked +Jessica. + + + + +XI + +BART HARRINGTON, GENIUS + + +The assistant Sunday editor of the New York "Searchlight" was busy. +This was not an unusual condition, but it frequently included unusually +irritating features. His superior, Wilson, the Sunday editor, was a +gentleman with a high brow and a large salary, who, having won a +reputation as "a Napoleon of Journalism," had successfully cultivated a +distaste for what he called "details." His specialty was the making of +suggestions in editorial council, in cheery expectation that they would +be carried out by his associates--an expectation so rarely realized +that Mr. Wilson's visage had almost a habit of hurt wonder. "Details" +continued to absorb the activity of the Sunday "Searchlight" office, +and Maxwell, the assistant editor, attended to them all, murmuring +bitterly against his chief as he labored. + +On this special morning, moreover, he was receiving telephoned +bulletins of the gradual disintegration of his biggest "special," +scheduled for the coming Sunday edition, which was to tell with +sympathetic amplitude of a beautiful French maiden who had drowned +herself because some young man no longer loved her. The active reporter +assigned to the case had telephoned first his discovery that the girl +never had a lover, but cheerily suggested that this explained her +suicide as well as the earlier theory, and wasn't so hackneyed, sagely +adding that he would get the story anyhow. Subsequently he had rung up +the office to report, with no slight disgust, that there was no suicide +to explain, as the girl was not dead. She had merely gone to visit +friends in the country, and the people in the house, missing her, had +decided that the peaceful waters of the Hudson-- + +Maxwell hung up the receiver with a few crisp remarks addressed to +space, and absorbed in awestruck silence by a young woman at the other +end of the room who eased her type-writing labor by pausing to hear +them fully. It was at this inauspicious moment that the card of Mr. +Bart Harrington was brought in by an office boy. Maxwell surveyed it +with strong disfavor. + +"Who is he?" he asked, regarding the office boy severely. + +The office boy avowed deprecatingly that he didn't know. + +"He 'ain't never been here before," he submitted, in extenuation. "He +says he's got a Sunday story." + +Maxwell resigned himself to the waste of five minutes of precious time. + +"Show 'm in," he commanded, testily. He sat down at his desk and turned +toward the door an expression that reminded callers of the value of +time and the brevity of life. Mr. Harrington, who had followed the boy +through the door with conviction of these two things, dropped into a +chair beside the editor's desk and surveyed Maxwell with a smile so +young, so trustful, and withal so engaging, that unconsciously the +stern features of that functionary relaxed. Nevertheless, he was not +jarred out of his routine. + +"Got your story with you, Mr. Harrington?" he asked, briskly, holding +out his hand for the manuscript. "If you'll leave it, I'll read--" +Harrington interrupted him with an impressive shake of his head. Then +he settled back in his chair, crossed one leg comfortably over the +other, plunged his hands deep in the pockets of his very shabby +overcoat, and continued to regard the editor with his singularly +boyish, dimpling smile. With one swift glance Maxwell took him in, from +the broken boot on the foot he was gently swinging to and fro to the +thick, curly locks on his handsome head. He had a complexion like a +girl's, a dimple in each cheek, and a jaw like a bull-dog's. He was all +of six feet tall, and his badly made clothes could not wholly conceal +the perfect lines of his figure. He was about twenty-two years old, +Maxwell decided, and, notwithstanding his dimples, his complexion, his +youth, and his smile, he conveyed a vivid impression of masculinity and +strength. He was wholly self-possessed, and his manner suggested that +the business which had brought him where he was was of such urgent +value and importance that the busy world itself might well hush its +noisy activities long enough to hear of it. To his own great surprise, +Maxwell waited until his caller was prepared to speak. + +Harrington shook his head again slowly. Then he tapped his forehead +with the second finger of his right hand. + +"I have it heah," he said, slowly, referring evidently to the brow he +had indicated, and speaking with a slight drawl and the strongly marked +accent of the Southern mountaineer. "I 'lowed I wouldn't write it till +I knew you-all wanted it. I'd like to tell it. Then if--" + +Maxwell nodded, and glanced at his watch. + +"Fire away," he said, elegantly. "But be as quick as you can, please. +This is closing day and every minute counts." + +Harrington smiled his ingenuous smile. It was a wistful smile--not a +happy one--but it seemed, somehow, to illumine the office. Maxwell +reflected irritably that there was something unusually likable about +the fellow, but he wished he'd hurry up and get out. From force of +habit his fingers grasped a blue pencil on his desk, and he began to +fumble nervously among the manuscripts that lay before him. Harrington +settled back more firmly in his chair, and the swinging of his torn +boot was accelerated a trifle, but his voice when he spoke was full of +quiet confidence. + +"It's a good thing, suh," he said, "and I can tell you-all about it in +a sentence. I'm goin' to commit suicide to-day, an' I agree to write +the experience foh you, up to the last minute, if you-all will have me +buried decently. I don't cayah to be shovelled into the Pottah's Field." + +Maxwell dropped the blue pencil and wheeled to look at him. Then his +face hardened. + +"It's a pretty bad joke," he said, "or a bum sort of bid for charity. +In either case you can't waste any more of my--" + +But Harrington had sprung to his feet, his blond young face black with +passion. + +"Damn you!" he hissed, thrusting his head down close to the other's and +clinching his fists. "How dahe you-all say I lie o' ask charity? I'd +see you-all in hell befoah I'd take a cent of youah damned money. +'Ain't you got brains enough in youah haid to see that I've got to the +end of mah rope?" + +Maxwell was a clever man, educated in the world's university. He knew +truth when he met it, and he knew human nature. + +"Sit down," he said, quietly, "and tell me about it. I'm sorry I spoke +as I did, but you must admit that your proposition was rather +startling." + +Harrington sat down, still breathing hard in his excitement, but +evidently making a resolute effort to control himself. + +"That's why I brought it heah," he said, answering the other's last +words, "You-all like stahtlin' things, don't you? That's what you +print. I'm offerin' you a straight bahgain, suh--a business +proposition. If you-all don't want it, say so." + +Maxwell smiled in his turn, but there was nothing ironic in the smile, +nor in the look he turned on his fellow-man. + +"It's not quite as simple as you seem to think," he explained, gently. +"But tell me more about it. What led to this decision? What makes you +think suicide is the only way out of your troubles? That's a part of +the story, you know. Let me have that first, in a few words. + +"It can be told, suh, in three," said the Southerner. His smile had +returned. His voice was the cool voice of one who discussed abstract +things. "I'm a failyuh. This wold 'ain't no use foh failyuhs. I've +given myself all the time and chances I dese'ved, but I cayn't win out, +so I've got to _git_ out. The's no one to ca'e. I've no kin, no ons +dependin' on me in any way. As foh me, I'm ti'ed; life ain't wuth the +effo't." + +Maxwell regarded him. + +"You don't look like a quitter," he said, thoughtfully. + +The boy's face blazed again, but he kept his temper. + +"To quit means to give somethin' up," he said, doggedly. "I ain't +givin' anythin' up. I 'ain't got anythin' to give up. Life without +wo'k, o' interest, o' fren's, o' ambition, o' love--that ain't livin'! +If you-all evah tried it, you'd know. I 'ain't been so chee'ful in +yeahs as I've been sence I made up my mind to 'quit,' as you-all call +it." + +"You've got health, haven't you?" demanded Maxwell. "Yes." + +Maxwell brought his hand down on the desk with an air of finality. + +"Then you've got everything. Do you mean to tell me that a fellow like +you can't earn enough to support himself? If you do, you're talking +rot." + +Harrington took this with his wide, guileless grin. He was not offended +now, for he felt the friendly interest and sympathy under the other's +words. His voice when he replied was gentler. + +"I ain't sayin' I can't keep body an' soul together, foh maybe I can," +he conceded. "But I'm sayin' _that_ ain't _life_. I'm sayin' I ain't +been fitted fo' wo'k. I 'ain't been educated. I've lived in a log-cabin +down in the Virginia mountains all man life. I left thah six weeks ago, +after mah mother died. She was the last of ouah family but me. I 'ain't +never been to school. She taught me to read in the Bible, an' to write. +I 'ain't nevah read anotheh book except the Bible and Mistah +Shakespeah's poems, an' Mistah Pluta'ch's _Lives of Great Men_. I know +them by hea't. I don't know whe' she got them o' whe' she came from. +She was different from othah mountain women. I've been No'th six weeks, +and I've tried ha'd to find a place whah I could fit in, but th' ain't +none. Men must be trained fuh wo'k; I ain't trained. I cayn't go back, +foh the's no one thah, an' I hate the mountains." + +Maxwell's reply was brief and to the point. + +"Think you could learn to run our elevator without killing us all?" he +inquired. "Well, you've got to. You've been talking awful guff, you +know. Now you're going to work, right here. We need a new man. The one +we have has been drunk three days. You're going to run the elevator and +get fifteen dollars a week to begin with. Here's your first week's +salary in advance. I'll arrange about the job with the superintendent. +I'll give you some books, and you can educate yourself. When you're +above elevator work we'll give you something better. You'll probably +have my job inside of a year," he ended, jocosely. + +The hand of the mountaineer stretched out to him trembled as Maxwell +grasped it. + +"You ah the only white man I've found in the No'th," said the +Southerner, breathlessly. "I'll make good, as they say up heah. But I +don't know how I can thank you." + +"Don't try," said Maxwell, brusquely. "Be here at eight in the morning. +By nine there will be a few callers I may want you to throw down the +shaft." + +Thus began the connection between the _Searchlight_ and Bart +Harrington, subsequently its most popular employe. Before the week was +over all the reporters and most of the editors had casually sought from +Maxwell some details concerning his protege, but had received few. +Harrington was a new man, and he came from the Virginia mountains, and +was most obliging and altogether engaging. This was all the information +acquired even by the indefatigable Miss Mollie Merk, whose success in +extracting from individuals information it was their dearest desire to +conceal had made her a star member of the _Searchlight's_ staff. It was +to Miss Merk, however, that Harrington announced his first important +discovery. Leaning across her desk one evening after his successor had +taken the "car," the new elevator man touched a subject much upon his +mind. + +"I got wet the othah day," he began, conversationally, "an' mah +landlady let me go to the kitchen to dry mah clothes. I obse'ved as I +sat by huh stove that the lid of the wash boilah kept liftin' up, all +by itself, an' then I saw 'twas raised by the steam of the hot watah +inside. I kep' thinkin' 'bout it, an' it seems to me thah's an idea +thah, a soht of ene'gy, you know, that might be used in big ways. I +mus' think it out." + +Mollie Merk looked at him, vague memories of one James Watts stirring +uneasily in her brain. + +"There's a good deal written about steam," she said, sympathetically. +"I'll bring you a book on it." + +She did, for Harrington was already high in her regard; and quite +possibly the volume killed in that youth's aspiring soul the germ of a +beautiful hope. But he was to the fore very soon with a discovery of +equal weight. This time his confidant was Maxwell. + +"Why is it," he asked that busy citizen one evening, "that when I get +in the bathtub the water rises highah? Ain't the' some principle the' +that is impo'tant? As I think it ovah--" + +Maxwell hurriedly assured him that there was, and the volume on steam +was followed by a treatise on specific gravity, which gave Mr. +Harrington food for reflection for several days. Nevertheless, the +discovery that others had been before him did not depress him in the +least. He gave the Sunday editor an insight into his views on one +occasion when that gentleman was able to convince him that Isaac Newton +and not Bart Harrington had discovered the law of gravitation while +watching an apple fall from a tree. + +"I obse'ved it, too, suh," argued Harrington, sturdily, defending his +position as a scientific discoverer. "Of co'se I see the fo'ce of you'h +rema'k that the othah man was _first_. That is unfo'tunate foh me. But +does it affect the value of _my_ discovery? It does not, suh." + +"There's a good deal in it," Wilson conceded to Maxwell, after he had +delightedly repeated this conversation. "Of course, the fellow has an +unusual mind. It's a pity he's always a few hundred years behind the +time, but, as he hints, that needn't dim our admiration for the quality +of his brain fibre." + +Maxwell laughed uneasily. + +"I can't make up my mind," he admitted, in his turn, "whether he's a +genius or a plain fool. He lost his dinner last night explaining to me +how the power of Niagara could be applied to practical uses. He was +horribly depressed when I told him it not only could be, but was. I let +him talk, though, to see what his ideas were, and they were very +practical." + +"I call that mighty encouraging," said the chief, optimistically. "He's +getting down to modern times. After he has discovered the telephone and +telegraph and cable and wireless telegraphy he may tackle telepathy and +give us something new." + +But Harrington indulged in an unexplained digression at this point. He +discovered literature and became acquainted with the works of one +Charles Dickens, of whose genius he made himself the sounding +trumpet-call for the ears of an indifferent world. + +"The's a book called _David Coppe'field_," he confided to Maxwell one +night when he had lingered for a chat with his benefactor. "It's great, +suh. You should read it sometime, Mistah Maxwell; you would appreciate +its wo'th." He outlined the plot then and there, and Maxwell +good-naturedly listened, finding his compensation in the enthusiast's +original comments on character and situation. This, however, +established a bad precedent, and Maxwell was subsequently obliged to +hear a careful synopsis of _Little Dorrit, Old Curiosity Shop,_ and +_Oliver Twist_, in quick succession, followed by the somewhat painful +recitation of most of Gray's _Elegy in a Country Churchyard_--for +Harrington was now entering the daisied field of poetry. + +It was at this point that Maxwell felt himself constrained to give his +protege a few words of advice, the city editor having objected to an +enforced hearing of the plot of _Ivanhoe_, and Mollie Merk having +admitted that she had climbed six flights of stairs twice a day for a +week in preference to hearing the final eighteen stanzas of _Paradise +Lost_. + +Maxwell explained the situation to his friend as gently as he could one +morning when Harrington had interrupted a talk between himself and a +distinguished Western editor who was spending a few days in New York. + +"You see, old man," he ended, kindly, "this is a big, new world to you, +but the rest of us have been living in it all our lives. We've taken in +these things you're discovering--or we've had them driven into us at +school. So--er--they're not new, and while we appreciate them we +haven't got time to go over them all again. When you get up to modern +fiction--the things people are reading to-day--" + +With one expressive gesture of the hand Mr. Harrington demolished +modern fiction. + +"_I_ 'ain't got time foh that, Mistah Maxwell," he said, respectfully. +"I read one, and I regret to say, suh, that it was too much. I have +looked into othe's, but I go no fu'thah. I have tried to open to you +gentlemen the great wo'ks I have discove'ed, an' youah reply is that +you-all have read them, suh. I am surprised. Do you give one glance at +a picture an' nevah look again? Do you listen once to music, o' must it +be something new and mode'n ev'ry time? Last night I heard the +composition of a musician named Beethoven, who, I have learned, has +been dead foh yeahs. Yet people still listen to his notes. Why don't +they read these books of Mistah Dickens and Mistah Scott and Mistah +Shakespeah?" + +Maxwell murmured feebly that a few did. A fitting response to +Harrington's arraignment somehow eluded him, and before he had found +the words he wanted an unexpected interruption came from the Western +editor, who had been listening to the conversation with almost painful +interest. + +"Mr. Harrington," he asked, abruptly, "can you write?" + +Harrington looked surprised and boyishly injured. + +"Yes, suh," he replied, stiffly. "I can read and write." + +"Oh, of course, of course," explained the other, hastily. "I don't mean +that. Can you write for the press? Have you tried to write anything for +other people to read?" + +Harrington's characteristic smile flashed forth. + +"I have submitted sev'al ahticles to Mistah Maxwell," he said, with +some dignity, "but thus far I have not been fo'tunate enough---" + +Maxwell drew a little package of manuscripts from a pigeon-hole in his +desk and handed them to the visitor without a word. They spoke for +themselves. The latter glanced through them, frowning. Maxwell returned +to his work. Harrington waited. At last the Westerner handed the papers +back to his Eastern colleague, shaking his head as he did so. + +"These won't do at all," he said, decidedly, "but they confirm my +impression that this man can write something worth while." He addressed +himself to Maxwell now, discussing Harrington as impersonally as if he +were absent, but from time to time his keen eyes returned to the +Southerner's face. + +"Here's a man," he began, didactically, "who is hundreds of years +behind the times. But please remember that he would have been Watts, +Newton, and several other discoverers if he had existed before them. +He's as much of a pilgrim on this earth to-day as if he were a visitor +from another planet. But he has an extraordinary type of mind and very +good taste--a strong, ignorant, instinctive feeling for the best. If he +would write a series of short articles giving his point of view to the +busy men and women of to-day, they should be 'good stuff'--a sort of +artistic voice crying in the commercial wilderness, don't you see. You +or some one else may have to put them into shape, until he catches the +idea, but he will catch it all right. He's clever enough. If you want +to try him, and it turns out as I think it will, I'll buy the material +for simultaneous publication in Chicago. What do you say?" + +"Agreed," said Maxwell, briefly. "I think you're right. We'll try it, +anyhow. I guess we won't have much trouble persuading Harrington to +favor us with the opportunity of examining his manuscript." He smiled +as he glanced at the other. Harrington's eyes were shining. His words, +when he spoke, came breathlessly. + +"I'll have the first copy ready in the mo'ning, Mistah Maxwell," he +promised. "And I reckon," he added, straightening his splendid +shoulders--"I reckon I'll give up the elevatah, suh." + +Maxwell laughed in high good-humor. + +"Oh yes," he agreed, "I guess we'll have to give you a successor there, +in any event. However this experiment turns out, it's time you had +something better than that." + +Harrington's first paper was signed "A Visitor from Mars," and Maxwell +marvelled as he read it. It was not a great production, and it was full +of small faults; but there was an indescribable naivete and charm about +it to which its quaint, old-time style added the final touch. +Harrington's studies of what he called "the olden masters" had not been +in vain. Late the next evening, in the peace of his small Harlem flat, +Maxwell submitted the manuscript to his wife for criticism. He passed +it over without comment, desiring the unprejudiced opinion of the +intelligent general reader, and Mrs. Maxwell read it twice, very +carefully, before she handed it back. When she did there was a mist +over her bright brown eyes. + +"The darling thing!" she cried. "Who wrote it, Bob? It's as clever as +it can be, and yet there's something about it that makes me feel queer +and choky. It's--it's"--her face brightened--"it's something like the +feeling I had when little Bobbie wrote me his first letter, that time I +went home to take care of mother. One almost expects to see the words +staggering down one side of the page in dear little, crooked, printed +letters. It's the manuscript of a grown-up, sophisticated baby." + +Maxwell took the copy from her, well pleased at this conjugal +confirmation of his own impression. + +"It's Harrington's," he explained, "and he's not sophisticated enough +to hurt anybody yet. But he's going to make a success of this +job--there's no doubt of that. I'll ask him to come up to dinner +to-morrow night and go over the stuff with me a bit. I don't want to do +it in the office." + +The Western editor was equally enthusiastic the following day. He was +also glowing pleasantly in the confirmation of his own keenness of +intuition. + +"You wouldn't have seen what you had here," he explained to Maxwell, +unnecessarily. "This is pretty much like genius. This fellow will be +writing his autobiography some day, and perhaps he'll remember his +humble discoverers. Meantime, don't you spoil his work by trying to +edit it. Let it alone. It's all right." + +The column of "The Visitor from Mars" grew to two columns, and became a +strong feature of the Sunday _Searchlight_. Harrington, now in +possession of a fair weekly income and unlimited leisure, bought new +clothes, rented a sitting-room, bedroom, and bath in a comfortable +bachelor apartment-house, and spent his days browsing in libraries, +where he read omnivorously. Incidentally, he discovered not only the +telephone, telegraph, and other inventions predicted by the Sunday +editor, but a locomotive fire-box which had received some favor among +railroad officials for ten years, and a superb weapon of destruction +which had been used in the Japanese army for six. + +"He's getting on!" cried Wilson, delightedly, when Maxwell recounted +these small disappointments in an otherwise inspiring onward career. +"He's learned to dress like a gentleman, speak like a gentleman, and +look like a gentleman, and he has also learned that there have been a +few active minds in the world before his came. Give him time. He'll do +something big yet." + +Harrington promptly verified this prediction by falling in love, which +he did on a scale and with an abandon unprecedented in the history of +Park Row. It was a tempestuous upheaval for the emotional Southerner, +and every other interest in his life retired to the remotest background +and remained there, unseen and unsuspected. His choice fell on a woman +reporter of the _Searchlight_, a quiet, refined young girl, whose +journalistic activities were confined to reports of meetings of women's +clubs and the descriptions of other social events. For her Bart +Harrington commanded the morning stars to sing together, and dared the +dazzled sun to look upon her like. To him she was Laura, Beatrice, +Juliet, Francesca--the essence of all the loves of all the ages in one +perfect form. During their brief engagement he called for her in a cab +each morning, and drove her to her home each night. He would have laid +a carpet of flowers for her from the office to the curb had it been +practicable. Also, he discovered Keats and Shelley and Byron and +Swinburne, and quoted them until the office boys, who alone remained to +listen to him, demanded that increase of salary justly attached to +increased nervous strain. Swinburne, Harrington promptly decided, he +did not like. There was an earthiness in his verse, he explained to +Maxwell, a material side, wholly lacking in the love of the right man +for the right woman--in other words, in his own love for Miss Evans. He +wrote a column about this kind of love in his Mars department, and a +hundred thousand men read it with gurgles of warm appreciation and +quoted it at dinner the next night. Then he married Miss Evans and +became interested in the price of coal and other household supplies. +His absorption in these topics was almost feverish. He talked about +them morning, noon, and night. His interest in literature flickered and +died out. To Maxwell, his first and still his best friend, he finally +confided his dilemma. + +"You see, old man," he began, one morning about six months after the +wedding, "we've discovered, Clara and I, that the least we can live on +in New York is fifty dollahs a week. And you see I'm only getting +forty. It's serious, isn't it? But Clara says that if we buy all ouah +canned goods at Lacy's---" + +Maxwell stopped him with a gesture of desperation. + +"Harrington, if you say another word I shall go crazy," he announced, +with the calmness of despair. "We'll give you fifty dollars a week. Now +consider that settled, and for God's sake get your mind off it. If you +don't look out you'll be writing about coal and canned goods in your +Mars column. What are you going to write this week, anyhow?" he +demanded, with sudden suspicion. + +Harrington looked guilty. + +"I thought I'd say something about how prices have advanced," he +faltered. "Clara says that two yeahs ago--" But Maxwell had taken him +by the shoulders. + +"No, you don't!" he shouted, fiercely. "You'll keep on writing about +literature and life and lily-pads and love--that's what you'll do. If +you don't, you'll lose your job. Don't you dare to introduce a +single-dollar sign or canned tomato into those columns," he added, +warningly, as he returned to his work. + +Harrington's look of reproach as he went out haunted him for days--so +long, in fact, that he bore with extraordinary patience a confidence +that gentleman favored him with several months later. He came to the +office one morning wearing an expression oddly combined of pride and +shame, in which first one and then the other predominated. For a long +time he discussed apartments and janitors and domestic supplies, and +Maxwell humored him. Then he said: + +"I've been an awful ass, Maxwell, but that's no reason why I should +keep on being one, is it? I've got to tell you something impo'tant, and +I'm going to do it now. I can't write any more about literatuah of the +past and lily-pads of the present, as you would say. Who ca'es about +'em? _I_ don't. The wo'ld to-day is interested in the life of to-day. +Men think about theah wo'k and theah incomes and theah homes and theah +wives and theah children, and that's _all_ they think about. And women +think about men, and that's all _they_ think about. And heah I'm +writing all the time about literatuah--literatuah." He turned the word +over in his mouth and ejected it with supreme contempt. + +As once before, Maxwell was silent in the presence of simple truth. He +rallied, however, and voiced a protest. + +"I suppose you haven't lost interest in earning your living," he +suggested, ironically. "How do you intend to do that if you give up +this job?" + +Harrington flushed a little, and cleared his throat nervously before he +spoke. Then he drew a paper from his pocket, and as his fingers touched +it his face cleared and happy pride beamed from him. + +"I've got something else," he said, simply. "I waited to see how it +would tu'n out befoah I told you. It's quite a story. You see," he went +on expansively, settling back in his chair, and swinging his foot with +the characteristic swing of the boy of two years before--"you see, +Clara needed a hat-pin, the kind that would stay in and keep a hat +_on_. None of them do, Clara said. So I made one foh huh, and Clara's +brothah saw it and thought it was a good thing. He's a lawyer, you +know. He showed it to some man with money, and they took it up and we +patented it, and now we've got a facto'y and we're selling it. +It's--it's making lots of money." He turned an apologetic eye on his +friend and continued, more firmly: "They gave me twenty thousand +dollahs down and twenty pe' cent, of the stock, and a block of stock +foh you, because I insisted on that. I want you in on my luck. Heah it +is. E.W. Hubbard is the chief backah, and he says this is wuth ten +thousand dollahs. He says every woman in Ame'ica will be wearing one of +ouah hat-pins this time next yeah." + +He laid the certificate on the table as he spoke, and for a moment +Maxwell sat staring at it, speechless. He knew Hubbard--a rich, shrewd +financier, and no leader of forlorn-hopes. If Hubbard was in the thing +the thing was all right. But a _hat-pin_! Maxwell looked at the +certificate and thought of the hat-pin, and reviewed the Harrington of +the past two years, and felt a horrible desire to laugh and to cry. +Then he pushed the paper toward the inventor. + +"It's awfully good of you, old man," he said, huskily. "But of course I +can't take this. There's no reason why you should give me ten thousand +dollars, you know." + +Harrington laughed--a queer little laugh. + +"Ain't they a reason?" he asked, lapsing in his earnestness into the +careless grammar he had almost overcome. "Well, I guess I know moah +than any one else 'bout _that_. Do you remembah the fifteen dollahs you +lent me the day I came heah? Well, suh, I was sta'ving. I hadn't eaten +fo' two days, an' I couldn't get wo'k, an' I couldn't beg. That's why I +meant to kill myself. That money saved me. Now heah's this thing. It +ain't money. It's an _idea_. It's an idea out of my haid, an' that haid +wouldn't be heah at all if it wasn't fo' you. You've given me mah +chance. What I've done ain't much, but it's brought results, and +results ah the things that count. So we'll just call it interest, if +you don't mind. I think it's goin' to be wuth while. An' you know," he +added, almost timidly, "we ah friends--ahn't we, you and I?" + +Maxwell wrung his hand. Then he picked up the certificate, folded it, +and put it carefully into his pocket. + +"Thanks, old man," he said, quietly. "It's the biggest thing that's +ever come my way, and I'll take it--from my friend." + +Later, when Harrington had taken his jubilant departure, Maxwell +related the incident to his chief. Wilson listened with flattering +attention. At the end he nodded sympathetically. + +"He's all right," he said, "and you needn't worry about him. He's got +one quality left that sets him far enough apart from the rabble of +to-day." He looked keenly at the young man as he added, suddenly: "Of +all the fellows you've ever helped, Maxwell--and I know you've helped a +lot in one way or another--has any one of them before to-day ever shown +you any gratitude?" + +Maxwell shook his head. "Don't remember any," he admitted. "But I +didn't expect any, and don't want any." + +"And you don't get it," ended the older man, with a sigh. "It's the +rarest thing in life. So make the most of it this time, my boy. One +doesn't often meet a visitor from Mars!" + +THE END + + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Many Kingdoms, by Elizabeth Jordan + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MANY KINGDOMS *** + +***** This file should be named 5953.txt or 5953.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/5/9/5/5953/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: Many Kingdoms + +Author: Elizabeth Jordan + +Release Date: June, 2004 [EBook #5953] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on September 29, 2002] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MANY KINGDOMS *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + + + + + +MANY KINGDOMS + +BY + +ELIZABETH JORDAN + +AUTHOR OF +"May Iverson--Her Book" +"Tales of the Cloister" +"Tales of Destiny" +Etc. Etc. + +... _"The state of man, +Like to a little kingdom, suffers then +The nature of an insurrection."_ + +--SHAKESPEARE. + +MCMVIII + + + + +CONTENTS + +CHAP. + +I. VARICK'S LADY O' DREAMS +II. THE EXORCISM OF LILY BELL +III. HER LAST DAY +IV. THE SIMPLE LIFE OF GENEVIEVE MAUD +V. HIS BOY +VI. THE COMMUNITY'S SUNBEAM +VII. IN MEMORY OF HANNAH'S LAUGH +VIII. THE QUEST OF AUNT NANCY +IX. THE HENRY SMITHS' HONEYMOON +X. THE CASE OF KATRINA +XI. BART HARRINGTON, GENIUS + + + + +I + +VARICK'S LADY O' DREAMS + + +Varick laid down the book with which he had beguiled an hour of the +night, turned off the electric light in the shaded globe that hung +above his head, pulled the sheets a little nearer his chin, reversed +his pillow that he might rest his cheek more gratefully on the cooler +linen, stretched, yawned, and composed himself to slumber with an +absolutely untroubled conscience. + +He was an eminently practical and almost rudely healthy young man, +with an unreflecting belief in the existence of things he had seen, +and considerable doubt concerning those which he had not seen. In his +heart he regarded sentiment as the expression of a flabby nature in a +feeble body. Once or twice he had casually redressing-case, with its +array of silver toilet articles, the solid front of his chiffonnier, +the carved arms of his favorite lounging-chair, even the etchings and +prints on the walls. Suddenly, as he looked at these familiar objects, +a light haze fell over them, giving him for an instant the impression +that a gauze curtain had been dropped between them and his eyes. They +slowly melted away, and in their place he saw the streets of a tiny +village in some foreign country which he did not know. A moment later, +in what seemed at the time a perfectly natural transition from his bed +in an Adirondack club-house, he was walking up the streets of the +little town, in correct tourist attire, looking in vain for a familiar +landmark, and with a strange sinking of the heart. How he got there, +or why he was there, was equally incomprehensible to him. It was high +noon of a warm summer day, and the red roofs of the old buildings +seemed to glow in the heat. Before him, at the end of the street down +which he was walking, was a public square where marketing was going on +in the open. It was crowded with men and women in picturesque peasant +costumes he did not recognize, though he had travelled a great deal. +As he drew nearer he heard them speaking, but discovered that their +tongue was as unknown to him as their garb. He knew French, German, +and Italian well; he had, in addition, a smattering of Spanish, and +was familiar with the accents of Slavic tongues. But this babel that +met his ears was something new. Taken in connection with the rest of +the experience, the discovery sent a cold chill down the spinal column +of Mr. Lawrence Varick. For the first time in his debonair life he was +afraid, and admitted it inwardly, with a sudden whitening of the lips. + +"It's so infernally queer," he told himself, uneasily. "If I could +remember how I got here, or if I knew anything about the place--" + +"Have you classified them?" asked a voice at his elbow. It was +feminine, contralto, and exquisitely modulated. The words were +English, but spoken with a slight foreign accent. With a leap of the +heart Varick turned and looked at the speaker. + +She was young, he saw at once--twenty-two, twenty-three, possibly +twenty-four. He inclined to the last theory as he observed her perfect +poise and self-possession. She was exquisitely dressed; he realized +that despite the dimness of masculine perception on such points, and, +much more clearly, saw that she was beautiful. She was small, and the +eyes she raised to his were large and deeply brown, with long black +lashes that matched in color the wavy hair under her coquettish hat. +As he stared at her, with surprise, relief, and admiration struggling +in his boyishly handsome face, she smiled, and in that instant the +phlegmatic young man experienced a new sensation. His own white teeth +flashed as he smiled back at her. Then he remembered that it was +necessary to reply to her question. + +"I--I--beg your pardon," he stammered, "a--a thousand times. But to +tell you the truth, I'm--I'm horribly confused this morning. I--I +don't seem, somehow, to place myself yet. And I can't understand what +these people say. So, when you spoke English it was such a relief--" + +He stopped suddenly and turned a rich crimson. It had occurred to him +that this incoherent statement was not quite the one to win interest +and admiration from a strange and exceedingly attractive woman. What +would she think of him? Perhaps that he was intoxicated, or insane. +Varick's imagination, never lively, distinguished itself during the +next few seconds by the stirring possibilities it presented to his +mind. He grew redder, which was very unfortunate, and shuffled +miserably from one foot to the other, until he noticed that she was +looking at him with a glance that was entirely dignified yet very +friendly. It had an oddly sympathetic quality in it as well. His +spirits rose a trifle. + +"You must think me an awful duffer," he murmured, contritely. "I'm not +always like this, I assure you." + +"I know," she assented. "I understand. Walk on with me. Possibly I may +be able to help you." + +He bowed assent and the two walked toward the crowded square. + +"You're awfully good," he said, feeling reassured, yet still boyish +and embarrassed. "I don't want to be a nuisance, but if you'll just +put me right, somehow--start me on a path that will lead me home--" + +The entire idiocy of this struck him. He stopped again, then burst +into his contagious, youthful laughter, in which she instantly joined. +The mellow contralto and the clear tenor formed a soft and pleasant +duet, but Varick noticed that not a head in the crowd around them +turned their way, nor did an eye of all the peasant throng give them a +glance. He spoke of this to his companion as they continued their +walk. + +"The most surprising thing to me in all this--unusualness," he said, +"is the cool manner in which these beggars ignore us. You know how +such people gape, usually; but not a soul among all these people seems +to know we're here." + +She looked at him with a gentle amusement and sympathy in her brown +eyes. + +"That is not surprising," she said, quietly. "For, you know, we are +not here--really." + +Varick stopped for the second time and stared at her, with a +repetition of that new and annoying sinking in the region of his +heart. Her words were certainly disconcerting, but she herself was +delightfully human and most reassuringly natural. She had walked on, +and he tried to fall into her mood as he overtook her. + +"Where are we, then?" he asked, with a short and not especially +mirthful laugh. + +Her smooth brow wrinkled for a moment. + +"I do not know," she said, frankly. "That is, I do not know this +place, where we _think_ we are, though I have been here before, and +the experience does not frighten me now. But I know where we _really_ +are. You are asleep somewhere in America, and I--but oh, my dear, my +dear, you're going to wake!" + +The clock that was somewhere struck three. Varick, sitting up in his +bed with eyes staring into the darkness, saw again his familiar room, +the dim light, the silver, the dressing-case, the pictures. He sprang +to the door opening into the hall, and tried it. It was bolted, as he +had left it. So was the other door leading into his sitting-room. The +darkness around him still seemed full of the refrain of the words he +had just heard--where? + +_"Oh, my dear, my dear, you're going to wake!"_ And her eyes--her +smile-- + +Varick got into bed again, in a somewhat dazed condition, with a +tremor running through it. Very slowly he straightened himself out, +very slowly he pulled up the bedclothes. Then he swore solemnly into +the obscurity of the room. + +"Well, of--all--the--dreams!" he commented, helplessly. + +As the months passed, after Varick got back to town and into the whirl +of city life, he recalled his dream, frequently at first, then more +rarely, and finally not at all. It was almost a year later when, one +night, lying half awake, he saw again the fine, transparent, screen- +like veil enshroud the objects in his bedroom. It was winter, and a +great log was burning in the large fireplace. He had tried to choke +the flames with ashes before he went to bed, but the wood had blazed +up again and he had lain quiet, awaiting slumber and blinking +indifferently at the light. His bedroom overlooked Fifth Avenue. There +was a large club-house just opposite his house, and cabs and carriages +still came and went. Varick heard the slam of carriage doors, the +click of horses' hoofs on the wet asphalt, and congratulated himself +on the common-sense which had inspired him to go to bed at eleven +instead of joining the festive throng across the street. He had +dutifully spent the morning in his father's offices, and then, with a +warming sense of virtue, had run out of town for a late luncheon and a +trial of hunters. To-night he was pleasantly tired, but not drowsy. +When the curtain fell before his surroundings, and he saw them melting +imperceptibly into others quite foreign to them, he at once recalled +the similar experience of the year before. With a little quickening of +his steady heart-beats, he awaited developments. + +Yes, here was the old town, with its red roofs, its quaint +architecture, its crowded, narrow, picturesque streets. But this time +they seemed almost deserted, and the whole effect of the place was +bleak and dreary. The leaves had dropped from the trees, the flowers +had faded, the vines that covered the cottage walls were brown and +bare. He was pleasantly conscious of the warmth of a sable-lined coat +he had brought from Russia two years before. He thrust his gloved +hands deep into its capacious pockets and walked on, his eyes turning +to right and left as he went. At intervals he saw a bulky masculine +figure, queerly dressed, turn a corner or enter a house. Once or twice +one came his way and passed him, but no one looked at him or spoke. +For a moment Varick was tempted to knock at one of the inhospitably +closed doors and ask for information and directions, but something--he +did not know what--restrained him. + +When she appeared it was as suddenly as she had come before, with no +warning, no approach. She was at his elbow--a bewitching thing of furs +and feminine beauty, French millinery and cordiality. She held out her +small hand with a fine _camaraderie_. + +"Is it not nice?" she asked at once. "I was afraid I should arrive +first and have to wait alone. I would not have liked that." + +He held her hand close, looking down at her from his great height, his +gray eyes shining into hers. + +"Then you knew--you were coming?" he asked, slowly. + +"Not until the moment before I came. But when I saw the curtain fall-- +" + +"You saw that, too? A thin, gauzy thing, like a transparency?" + +"Yes." + +He relapsed into silence for a moment, as he unconsciously adapted his +stride to hers, and they walked on together as naturally as if it were +an every-day occurrence. + +"What do you make of it all?" he at length asked. + +She shrugged her shoulders with a little foreign gesture which seemed +to him, even then, very characteristic. + +"I do not know. It frightened me--a little--at first. Now it does not, +for it always ends and I awake--at home." + +"Where is that?" + +She hesitated. + +"I may not tell you," she said, slowly. "I do not quite know why, but +I may not. Possibly you may know some time. You, I think, are an +American." + +He stared hard at her, his smooth face taking on a strangely solemn +expression. + +"You mean to say," he persisted, "that this is all a dream--that you +and I, instead of being here, are really asleep somewhere, on +different continents?" + +She nodded. + +"We are asleep," she said, "on different continents, as you say. +Whether we are dreaming or whether our two souls are taking a little +excursion through space--oh, who shall say? Who can question the +wonderful things which happen in this most wonderful world? I have +ceased to question, but I have also ceased to fear." + +He made no reply. Somewhere, in the back of his head, lay fear--a very +definite, paralyzing fear--that something was wrong with him or with +her or with them both. Instead of being in the neutral border-land of +dreams, had he not perhaps passed the tragic line dividing the normal +mind from the insane? She seemed to read his thoughts, and her manner +became more gentle, almost tender. + +"Is it so very dreadful?" she asked, softly. "We are together, you +know, my friend. Would it not be worse to wander about alone?" + +With a great effort he pulled himself together. + +"Infinitely," he said, with gratifying conviction. "And you're--you're +a trump, you know. I'm ashamed of acting like such a boor. If you'll +bear with me I'll try from now on to be more like a man and less like +a fretful ghost." + +She clapped her hands. + +"Capital!" she cried. "I knew you would--what is the word?--oh yes-- +_adapt_ yourself. And it is only for a little while. You will wake +very soon. But you ought to enjoy it while it lasts. There are many +amusing things about it all." + +Varick reflected grimly that it was the "amusing things" which +occasioned his perturbation, but he kept his reflection to himself and +smiled down at her sunnily. + +"For example," she continued, "as we really do not exist here, and as +we are not visible to these people, we cannot do anything that will +affect them in any way or attract their attention. Look at that!" + +They were passing a small house whose front door, opening on the +street, stood ajar. Within they could see a stout woman standing at a +tub and washing busily, and a little girl pouring hot water from a +quaint kettle into a large pan full of soiled blue dishes. The pan +stood near the edge of a wooden table, and the little girl was perched +on a stool just high enough to bring her on a level with her work. + +"You are, I am sure, a fine athlete," murmured the woman. "Or else +your looks belie you," she added, with a roguish upward glance. "Yet +with all your strength you cannot push that pan of dishes off the +table." + +Without a word, Varick passed through the doorway, strode into the +house and up to the table. She followed him closely. He attempted to +seize the pan in his powerful hands--and, to his horror, discovered +that they held nothing. The pan remained on the table and the child +was now unconcernedly washing the blue dishes, humming a little folk- +song as she worked. As if to add to the irony of the situation, the +small laborer quietly lifted the pan and moved it to a position she +thought more convenient. This was the last touch. With a stifled +murmur of intense exasperation, Varick put forth all his strength in a +supreme effort. The pan fell, the water and broken blue dishes +covering the floor. He sprang back and stood aghast, gazing at the +havoc he had wrought. + +"Oh, dear! oh, dear!" murmured the voice at his side. "I never dreamed +you could do it, or I would not have suggested it. Oh, oh, the poor +little darling!" + +For the stout woman at the tub had hastily dropped her work, crossed +the room, and was soundly chastising the unhappy infant who she +supposed was responsible for the mischief. Varick caught her arm. + +"Oh, I say," he cried, "this won't do at all! She didn't do it; it was +all my fault. I'll pay for the things. Here--here--" + +He fumbled in his pockets as he spoke and pulled out several gold +pieces. But the fat arm of the old woman offered no resistance to his +grasp, and the gold pieces did not exist for her. It was evident that +she saw neither him nor them, nor the woman with him. With an +unsparing hand she spanked the child, whose voice rose in shrill +lamentations. Varick and his companion in guilt crept out of the room +with a sense of great helplessness upon them, and he breathed a long +breath of relief at finding himself--in bed, with a cold February sun +shining in through his windows, and the faithful Parker at his side +with the quieting announcement that his bath was ready. + +One of Varick's boon companions in camp and hunting excursions was a +distinguished New York specialist in nervous diseases. A day or two +later Varick found it convenient to drop into this man's office and, +quite casually, tell him the story of his dreams, giving it various +light touches that he fondly imagined concealed the anxiety that lay +beneath the recital. "Recurrent dreams," he then learned, were a very +common human experience and not deserving of much attention. + +"Don't think about it," said his friend. "Of course, if you worry over +it, you'll be dreaming it all the time. Send this 'personally +conducted tour' to me if you don't like it. I don't mind meeting +pretty women who are 'dreams,' whether in the flesh or out of it." + +As time went on and the dream did not return, Varick decided that he +would not mind, either. He thought of her a great deal; he even longed +for her. Eventually he deliberately tried to induce the dream by going +to bed early, putting himself in the proper mental attitude, as he +conceived it, and staring wide-eyed into his dimly lighted room. But +only once in eighteen months was he even partly successful. Then he +saw the haze, saw the familiar streets, saw her far, far ahead of him, +and hurrying onward, saw her turn a sharp corner, caught one backward +look from her dear brown eyes as she vanished--and awoke! He gave much +thought to that look in the months which followed. He was a modest +youth, singularly unconscious of his own charms; but the eloquent +glance had conveyed to him a sense of longing--of more than longing. + +Quite an interval elapsed before she came again. There was, first of +all, the inevitable filmy effect, but, in the vision that succeeded +it, instead of finding himself in the little town, he was in the +depths of a great old forest, and in horrible agony. Some accident had +occurred--he did not know what. He only knew that he was shot, +suffering, dying! He groaned, and even as he writhed in a spasm of +pain he saw her sitting on the sward beside him. He turned glazed eyes +on her. Her brown ones looked back into his with a great love and pity +in their depths. + +"Oh, my dear," she whispered, "I know it seems terribly hard to you. +And because you think you suffer, it is almost as hard for you as if +you did. But you are not really hurt, you know. You are not suffering. +It is all in the dream. You are sound asleep, far, far away." + +He forced a sardonic laugh from his stiff throat. + +"Not this time," he managed to articulate. "Whatever the others may +have been, this is no dream. This is the real thing--and death!" + +She smoothed the hair back from his damp brow with a beautiful, +caressing touch. He felt her fingers tremble. + +"No," she said. "It is a dream, and almost over." + +"Then will you stay with me," he gasped, "to the end?" + +"Yes," she promised. "Try to bear it just a moment longer. Courage, +dear heart! for already you are waking--you are waking--_you--are-- +awake!_" + +He was, and it was daylight, and around him were the familiar objects +of his own room. He wiped his forehead, which was cold and wet. He +felt utterly exhausted. + +"Stay with me to the end!" + +If she only would! If he could find her--find her in this warm, human +world, away from that ghastly border-land where they two met. For in +that hour he knew he loved--what? A woman or a ghost? A creature of +this world or a fantasy of the night? Wherever she was, whatever she +was, he loved her and he wanted her. And in that hour of his agony her +eyes had told that she loved and wanted him. + +It was eight months before they met again. Varick's friends thought +him changed, and quite possibly he was. The insouciant boy of twenty- +eight had become a man, a sympathetic, serious, thoughtful man, still +given to sports and outdoor life, but more than all devoted to a +search which had taken him to no end of out-of-the-way European towns. +He was sleeping in one of these one night (not _the_ one, alas!--he +had not found that) when the veil, now so warmly welcome, fell for the +fourth time. + +He was in an exquisite Italian garden, a place all perfume and May +breezes and flooding sunshine and overarching blue sky. As he entered +it he saw her coming to meet him, and he went forward to greet her +with his pulses bounding and a light in his eyes which no eyes but +hers had ever seen there. Even in that supreme moment the wonderfully +_real_ atmosphere of it all impressed him. He heard a dry twig crack +under his foot as he walked, and he recognized the different perfumes +of the flowers around him--the heavy sweetness of a few belated orange +blossoms, the delicate breath of the oleander, the reminiscent perfume +of the rose. Then their hands met and their eyes, and each drew a long +breath, and neither spoke for a moment. When Varick found words they +were very commonplace. + +"Oh, my love, my love!" he said. And she, listening to them with +sudden tears in her brown eyes, seemed to find in them the utmost +eloquence of the human tongue. + +"It has been so long, so long!" he gasped. "I began to think I was +never to see you again." + +They drifted side by side along a winding, rose-hedged path, past an +old sun-dial, past a triumphant peacock strutting before his mild +little mate, past a fountain whose spray flung out to them a welcome. +She led the way with the accustomed step of one who knew and loved the +place. They came to a marble seat, half hidden by a tangle of vines +and scarlet blossoms, and sheltered by overhanging oleander branches; +there she sat down and moved her skirts aside that he might sit close +to her. Her brown eyes, raised now to his hungry gray ones, looked at +him with the softened brilliance he had sometimes seen in those of a +happy child. + +"Should you have missed me," she asked, softly, "if you had never seen +me again? Should you have been sorry?" + +He drew a long breath. + +"I love you," he said. "Whatever you are, wherever you come from, +whatever all this means, I love you. I don't understand anything else, +but I know that. It's the one sure thing, the one real thing, in all +this tangle." + +Without a word she put her hand in his. He could feel distinctly its +cool, soft, exquisite texture. With an exclamation of delight he drew +her toward him, but she held herself away, the expression of her +beautiful face softening the effect of the recoil. + +"Not yet, dear," she said, gently. "We must be very careful. You do +not understand. If you do anything abrupt or sudden you will wake--and +then we shall be parted again, who knows for how long!" + +There were tears in her eyes as she spoke. Seeing them, he buried his +face in his hands and groaned, while the sense of his utter +helplessness rolled over him like a flood. + +"God!" he broke out, with sudden fierceness. "What devil's trick is +this? It's not a dream. It can't be a dream. Here we are, two human +beings in a human world--I'll swear it. Smell that oleander. Listen to +that bird sing. Hear the trickle of that fountain. And yet you tell me +that we are asleep!" + +She laid her head in the curve of her arm, resting on the ivy-covered +back of the low seat. Bending over her, he saw that her cheeks were +wet. The sight made him desperate. + +"Don't!" he cried, hoarsely. "Don't do that! Tell me what is expected +of me. Whatever it is, no matter how hard it is, or how long it takes, +I'll do it." + +She did not reply, but she made a quick little gesture with the hand +nearest him. It signified hopelessness, almost despair. Darkness began +to fall, and an early moon hung pale in the heavens. Somewhere in the +thick bushes near them a nightingale began to sing. To Varick's +excited fancy there was a heart-breaking pathos in the soft notes. +They seemed to have been together, he and she, for a long time--for +hours. He bent his head till it touched hers. + +"But you love me?" he asked. She moved a little and wiped her eyes +with an absurdly tiny, lace-edged square of linen. One corner, he +noticed, bore an embroidered coronet. + +"Yes," she said, very quietly, "I love you." + +Her tone as she spoke expressed such entire hopelessness that the full +sense of her words did not at once come to him. When it did, slowly, +sweetly, she was speaking again. + +"But oh, dearest, dearest!" she broke out, "why do we love? To what +can love lead us--two poor shadows in a dream world, in which alone we +can meet?" + +He was silent. There seemed, somehow, nothing that he could say, +though later he thought of many words with which he might have filled +that throbbing silence. The dusk deepened around them. Off in the +thicket the nightingale still warbled passionately, and now the stars +began to come out over their heads, pale as yet against the warm blue +of the heavens. Varick, sitting stiffly on the old marble bench, +became conscious of an odd dizziness, and set his teeth with a sudden +determination to show no evidence of it. She had risen and was moving +about among the rose-bushes just behind them. Almost before he missed +her she had returned, holding in her hand a beautiful salmon-hued +rose, with a flame-colored, crumply heart. He had never before seen +one like it. As she held it near him it exhaled an exquisitely +reminiscent perfume--a perfume which seemed to breathe of old joys, +old memories, and loves of long ago. + +"Is it not beautiful?" she said. "It is called the _Toinnette_. Take +it, dear, and keep it--for memory." Then, as he took it from her, her +eyes widened in a sudden anguish of dread and comprehension. + +"Oh, you're leaving me!" she said. "You're waking. Dearest, dearest, +stay with me!" + +The words and the look that accompanied them galvanized him into +sudden action. He sprang to his feet, caught her in his arms, held her +there, crushed her there, kissing her eyes, her hair, her exquisitely +soft mouth. + +"I will not leave you!" he raved. "I swear I won't! I defy the devil +that's back of this! I swear--" But she, too, was speaking now, and +her words came to his ears as from a long, long distance, sobbingly, +with a catch in the breath, but distinct. + +"Alas!" she cried, "you have ruined everything! You have ruined +everything! You will never see me again. Dearest, dearest--" + +He awoke. His heart was thumping to suffocation, and he lay exhausted +on his pillow. It was a dark morning, and a cold rain beat dismally +against the window-panes. Gone were the Dream Woman, the Italian +garden, the song of the nightingale, the perfume of flowers. How +definite that perfume had been! He could smell it yet, all around him. +It was like--what was it like? He became suddenly conscious of an +unusual sensation in his hand, lying on the bedspread. He glanced at +it and then sat up with a sudden jerk that almost threw him off his +balance. In his upturned palm was a rose--a salmon-colored rose, +slightly crushed, but fresh and fragrant, with a flame-colored, +crumply heart. Varick stared at it, shut his eyes, opened them, and +stared again. It was still there, and, with the discovery that it was, +Varick became conscious of a prickling of the scalp, a chill along the +spine. His brown face whitened. + +"Well, by all the gods!" he gasped. "How did that thing get here?" + +No one ever told him. Possibly no one could except the Dream Woman, +and her he never saw again; so the mystery was unfathomable. He put +the rose between the leaves of the Bible his mother had given him when +he went to college, and which he had not opened since until that +morning; and the rose became dry and faded as the years passed, quite +as any other rose would have done. + +Varick paid a second and quite casual visit to his medical friend, who +scoffed at him rudely and urged him to go on a long hunting trip. He +went, and was singularly successful, and came back with considerable +big game and a rich, brown complexion. When the doctor asked him +whether he still awoke from his innocent slumbers to find his little +hands full of pretty flowers, Varick swore naturally and healthfully, +turned very red, and playfully thumped the medical man between the +shoulders with a force that sent that gentleman's eye-glasses off his +nose. But, notwithstanding all these reassuring incidents, Varick has +never married; and he remains deeply interested as to the source of +that rose. He would be very grateful to any one who could tell him +where the thing came from. The nearest he ever came to this was when a +man who knew a good deal about flowers once inspected the faded rose, +at Varick's request, and listened to the description of how it looked +when fresh. + +"Why, yes," he said, "I know that variety. It grows in Italy, but I +don't think it's known here. They call it the _Toinnette!_" + + + + +II + +THE EXORCISM OF LILY BELL + + +It is quite possible that not even Raymond Mortimer Prescott himself +could have told definitely the day or the hour when Lily Bell first +came into his life; and as Raymond Mortimer Prescott was not only the +sole person privileged to enjoy Miss Bell's society, but was also the +sole person who had been permitted to gaze upon her charms at all, it +would seem that inquiries directed elsewhere were destined to prove +fruitless. Raymond himself, moreover, was not communicative; he had +the reserve of an only child whose early efforts at conversation had +been discouraged by parents selfishly absorbed in "grown-up" +interests, and whose home was too remote from other country homes to +attract playmates. + +His mother was a nervous invalid, and almost in infancy Raymond had +grasped the fact that his absence seemed to be of more definite +benefit to her than any other remedy for neurasthenia. His father was +a busy man, absent from home for weeks at a time, and bearing this +exile with a jovial cheerfulness which did not always characterize his +moods when he deigned to join the family circle. Occasionally the +elder Prescott experienced a twinge of conscience when he looked at +his son, ten years of age now, the possessor of a superbly healthy +body and presumably of the social aspirations of growing Americans. In +such moments of illumination the father reflected uneasily that "the +little beggar must have a beastly lonesome time of it"; then, +surveying the little beggar's choice company of pets, gazing upon the +dam he had built with his own busy hands, inspecting approvingly his +prowess in the swimming-hole and with his fish-rods, even noting, in +his conscientious appraisal of his heir's assets, the self-assertive +quality of the freckles on his nose and the sunburn on the whole of +his visage, this perfunctory American parent easily decided that +nothing need be changed for another year or two. It was impossible +even for a scrupulous conscience to make a youthful martyr of Raymond +Mortimer. Not the most rabid New England brand could compass that, and +certainly Raymond Mortimer Prescott, Sr., had no such possession. The +housekeeper, Miss Greene, a former trained nurse who had charge of the +boy in infancy, looked after his clothes and his meals. +Notwithstanding his steadfast elusiveness, she had also succeeded in +making him master of extremely elementary knowledge of letters and +figures. Beyond this he was arrogantly ignorant, even to the point of +being ignorant of his ignorance. He had his dogs, his rods and tackle, +his tool-house, unlimited fresh air, sunshine, and perfect health; in +addition he had Lily Bell. + +How long he may have enjoyed the pleasure of this young person's +company unobserved by his elders is a matter of surmise; it may well +have been a long time, for family curiosity never concerned itself +with Raymond Mortimer unless he was annoyingly obtrusive or +disobedient. But the first domestic records of her arrival, kept +naturally enough by Miss Greene, whose lonely spinster heart was the +boy's domestic refuge, went back to a day in June when he was five. He +was in his nursery and she in an adjoining room, the communicating +door of which was open. She had heard him in the nursery talking to +himself, as she supposed, for a long time. At last his voice took on a +note of childish irritation, and she distinctly heard his words. + +"But it won't be right that way," he was saying, earnestly. "Don't you +see it won't be right that way? There won't be nothing to hold up the +top." + +There was a long silence, in the midst of which Miss Greene stole +cautiously to the nursery door and looked in. The boy was on his knees +on the floor, an ambitious structure of blocks before him, which he +had evidently drawn back to contemplate. His eyes were turned from it, +however, and his head was bent a little to the left. He wore a look of +great attention and annoyance. He seemed to be listening to a +prolonged argument. + +"All right," he said, at last. "I'll do it. But it ain't right, and +you'll be sorry when you see it fall." He hurriedly rearranged the +block structure, adding to the tremulously soaring tower on the left +side. True to his prediction, it fell with a crash, destroying other +parts of the edifice in its downfall. The boy turned on his unseen +companion a face in which triumph and disgust were equally blended. +"There, now!" he taunted; "didn't I tell you so, Lily Bell? But you +never will b'lieve what I say--jes like girls!" + +Miss Greene hurriedly withdrew, lifting to the ceiling eyes of awed +surprise. For some reason which she was subsequently unable to +explain, she asked the boy no questions; but she watched him more +closely after this, and discovered that, however remote the date of +Miss Bell's first appearance, she was now firmly established as a +daily guest--an honored one whose influence, though mild, was almost +boundless, and whose gentle behests were usually unhesitatingly +obeyed. Occasionally, as in the instance of the blocks, Raymond +Mortimer combated them; once or twice he disobeyed them. But on the +second of these occasions he drooped mournfully through the day, +bearing the look of one adrift in the universe; and the observant Miss +Greene noted that the following day was a strenuous one, occupied with +eager fulfilment of the unexpressed wishes of Lily Bell, who had +evidently returned to his side. Again and again the child did things +he most obviously would have preferred not to do. The housekeeper +looked on with deep but silent interest until she heard him say, for +perhaps the tenth time, "Well, I don't like it, but I will if you +really want me to." Then she spoke, but so casually that the boy, +absorbed in his play, felt nothing unusual in the question. + +"Whom are you talking to, Raymond?" she asked, as she rounded the heel +of the stocking she was knitting. He replied abstractedly, without +raising his eyes from the work he was doing. + +"To Lily Bell," he said. + +Miss Greene knitted in silence for a moment. Then, "Where is she?" she +asked. + +"Why, she's here!" said the child. "Right beside me!" + +Miss Greene hesitated and took the plunge. "I don't see her," she +remarked, still casually. + +This time the boy raised his head and looked at her. There was in his +face the slight impatience of one who deals with an inferior +understanding. + +"'Course you don't," he said, carelessly. "You can't. No one can't see +Lily Bell but 'cept me." + +Miss Greene felt snubbed, but persevered. + +"She doesn't seem to be playing very nicely to-day," she hazarded. + +He gave her a worried look. + +"She isn't," he conceded, "not very. 'Most always she's very, very +nice, but she's kind of cross to-day. I guess p'r'aps," he speculated, +frankly, "you're 'sturbing her by talking so much." + +Miss Greene accepted the subtle hint and remained silent. From that +time, however, Raymond Mortimer counted on her acceptance of Lily Bell +as a recognized personality, and referred to her freely. + +"Lily Bell wants us to go on a picnic to-morrow," he announced, one +day when he was six. "She says let's go on the island under the willow +an' have egg-san'wiches an' ginger-ale for lunch." + +Miss Greene carried out the programme cheerfully, for the child made +singularly few requests. Thomas, the gardener, was to row them over, +and Miss Greene, a stout person who moved with difficulty, seated +herself in the stem of the boat with a sigh of relief, and drew +Raymond Mortimer down beside her. He wriggled out of her grasp and +struggled to his feet, his stout legs apart, his brown eyes +determined. + +"You can't sit there, please, Miss Greene," he said, almost austerely. +"Lily Bell wants to sit there with me. You can take the other seat." + +For once the good-natured Miss Greene rebelled. + +"I'll do no such thing," she announced, firmly, "flopping round and +upsetting the boat and perhaps drowning us all. You and your Lily Bell +can sit together in the middle and let me be." + +An expression of hope flitted across the child's face. "Will that do, +Lily Bell?" he asked, eagerly. The reply was evidently unfavorable, +for his jaw fell and he flushed. "She says it won't," he announced, +miserably. "I'm awful sorry, Miss Greene, but we'll have to 'sturb +you." + +If Miss Lily Bell had been in the habit of making such demands, the +housekeeper would have continued to rebel. As it was, she had grave +doubts of the wisdom of establishing such a dangerous precedent as +compliance with the absurd request. But Raymond Mortimer's distress +was so genuine, and the pleasure of the picnic so obviously rested on +her surrender, that she made it, albeit slowly and with groans and +dismal predictions. The boy's face beamed as he thanked her. + +"I was so 'fraid Lily Bell would be cross," he confided to her, as he +sat sedately on his half of the stern-seat. "But she's all right, an' +we're going to have a lovely time." + +That prediction was justified by events, for the occasion was a +brilliant one, and Lily Bell's share in it so persistent and +convincing that at times Miss Greene actually found herself sharing in +the delusion of the little girl's presence. Her good-natured yielding +in the matter of the seat, moreover, had evidently commended her to +Miss Bell's good graces, and that young person brought out the +choicest assortment of her best manners to do honor to the grown-up +guest. + +"Lily Bell wants you to have this seat, Miss Greene, 'cause it's in +the shade an' has a nice back," said Raymond, delightedly, almost as +soon as they had reached the island; and Miss Greene flopped into it +with a sigh of content in the realization that Miss Bell did not +intend to usurp all the choice spots, as her persistence earlier in +the day might possibly have suggested to a suspicious mind. There, +alternately reading and dozing, she incidentally listened to the flow +of conversation poured forth by her small charge, varied only by +occasional offerings to her, usually suggested by Miss Bell and +ranging from the minnow he had succeeded in catching with a worm and a +bent pin to the choicest tidbits of the luncheon. There were two +glasses for the ginger-ale. Miss Greene had one and Lily Bell the +other. Raymond Mortimer gallantly drank from the bottle. + +"Why don't you use Lily Bell's glass?" was Miss Greene's very natural +inquiry. It would seem, indeed, that two such congenial souls would +have welcomed the closer union this suggestion invited, but Raymond +Mortimer promptly dispelled that illusion. + +"She doesn't want to," he responded, gloomily. + +In other details, however, Miss Lily Bell was of an engaging sweetness +and of a yielding disposition of the utmost correctness. Again and +again Raymond Mortimer succeeded in convincing her, by the force and +eloquence of his arguments, of the superiority of his ideas on fort +building, fishing, and other occupations which filled the day. Miss +Greene's heart yearned over the boy as he came to her during the mid- +day heat and cuddled down comfortably by her side, heavy-eyed and +tired after his exertions. + +"Where's Lily Bell?" she asked, brushing his damp hair off his +forehead and wondering whether she was also privileged to enjoy the +unseen presence of the guest of honor. + +"She's back there under the tree takin' a nap," murmured the boy, +drowsily, indicating the exact spot with a grimy little hand. "She +tol' me to come an' stay with you for a while." + +Miss Greene smiled, deeply touched by this sweet mingling of coyness +and thoughtfulness on the maiden's part. + +"What does Lily Bell call you?" she asked, with interest. The boy +snuggled down on the grass beside her and rested his head comfortably +in her lap. + +"She knows my name's Raymond Mortimer," he said, sleepily, "but she +calls me 'Bill' for short." Then, more sleepily, "I asked her to," he +added. In another moment his eyelids had dropped and he too was in the +Land of Nod, whither Lily Bell had happily preceded him. + +During the next four years Miss Greene was privileged to spend many +days in the society of Miss Lily Bell, and the acquaintance between +them ripened into a pleasant friendship. To her great satisfaction she +found Miss Bell's name one to conjure with in those moments of +friction which are unavoidable in the relations of old and young. + +"I don't think Lily Bell would like that," she began to say, +tentatively, when differences of opinion as to his conduct came up +between Raymond and herself. "I think _she_ likes a gentlemanly boy." + +Unless her young charge was in a very obstinate mood the reminder +usually prevailed, and it was of immense value in overcoming the early +prejudice of the small boy against soap and water. + +"Isn't Lily Bell clean?" she had inquired one day when he was eight +and the necessity of the daily tubbing was again being emphasized to +him. + +Raymond conceded that she was. + +"When she first comes she is," he added. "'Course she gets dirty when +we play. Why, sometimes she gets awful dirty!" + +The excellent and wise woman saw her opportunity, and promptly grasped +it. + +"Ah," she exclaimed, "that's the point. I want you to start out clean +and to go to bed clean. If you'll promise me to take a tub before you +dress in the morning, and another before you go to bed at night, I +don't care how dirty you get in the mean time." + +This happy compromise effected, she was moved to ask more particularly +how Miss Lily Bell looked. She recalled now that she had never heard +her described. Raymond Mortimer, she discovered, was no better than +the rest of his sex when it came to a description of feminine features +and apparel, but on two points his testimony was absolute. Lily Bell +had curls and she wore pantalettes. The last word was not in his +vocabulary, and it was some time before he succeeded in conveying the +correct impression to Miss Greene's mind. + +"Don't you remember the little girls in mamma's old Godey books?" he +asked, at last, very anxiously, seeing that his early imperfect +description had led to an apparent oscillation of Miss Greene's +imagination between the paper ruffle of a lamb-chop and a frilly +sunbonnet. "They have slippers an' 'lastic bands an' scallopy funnels +coming down under their skirts. Well"--this with a long-drawn sigh of +relief as she beamed into acquiescence--"that's how Lily Bell looks!" + +Long before this the family had accepted Lily Bell as a part of the +domestic circle, finding her a fairly trustworthy and convenient +playmate for the boy. Not always, of course; for it was very +inconvenient to leave a vacant seat beside Raymond Mortimer when they +went driving, but this had to be done or Raymond stayed at home rather +than desert his cherished Lily. It was long before his father forgot +the noble rebuke administered by his son on one occasion when the +elder Prescott, thoughtlessly ignoring the presence of Miss Bell, +sought to terminate the argument by sitting down by the boy's side. +The shrieks of that youth, usually so self-contained, rent the ambient +air. + +"Father, _father!_" he howled, literally dancing up and down in his +anguish, "you're sitting on Lily Bell!" Then, at the height of the +uproar, he stopped short, an expression of overwhelming relief +covering his face. "Oh no, you ain't, either," he cried, ecstatically. +"She jumped out. But she won't go now, so neither will I"; and he +promptly joined his imaginary playmate in the road. Pausing there, he +gave his abashed parent a glance of indescribable reproach and a +helpful hint on etiquette. + +"Don't you know," he asked, stonily, "that gentlemen don't _never_ sit +on ladies?" Striding gloomily back to the house, presumably close by +the side of the outraged maiden, he left his convulsed parent to +survive as best he could the deprivation of their presence. This Mr. +Prescott did with reluctance. He was beginning to find the society of +his son and Lily Bell both interesting and exhilarating. He showed, in +fact, a surprising understanding of and sympathy with "the love- +affair," as he called it. "The poor little beggar had to have +something," he said, indulgently, "and an imaginary play-mate is as +safe as anything I know." Therefore he referred to Miss Bell +respectfully in conversation with his son, and, save on the tragic +occasion just chronicled, treated her with distinguished +consideration. + +His wife's acceptance of the situation was less felicitous. Mrs. +Prescott, whose utter lack of a sense of humor had long saddened her +domestic circle, suddenly felt the birth of one now that was even more +saddening, and the cause of it was Lily Bell. She referred to that +young person wholly without respect, and was convulsed by foolish +laughter when her son soberly replied. The boy resented this attitude +--first sullenly, then fiercely. + +"She acts as if there _wasn't_ really any Lily Bell," he confided to +his father, in a moment of such emotion. "I don't think that's nice or +p'lite, an' it hurts Lily Bell's feelings." + +"That's bad," said the father, soberly. "We mustn't have that. I'll +speak to your mother." + +He did subsequently, and to such good effect that the expression of +Mrs. Prescott's amusement was temporarily checked. But Raymond +Mortimer's confidence was temporarily blighted, and he kept his little +friend and his mother as far apart as possible. Rarely after that did +Lily Bell seek the invalid's room with the boy, though she frequently +accompanied him to his father's library when that gentleman was home +and, presumably, listened with awe to their inspiring conversation. +Mr. Prescott had begun to talk to his boy "as man to man," as he once +put it, and the phrase had so delighted the boy, now ten, that his +father freely gave him the innocent gratification of listening to it +often. Moreover, it helped in certain conversations where questions of +morals came up. As the small son of an irate father, Raymond Mortimer +might not have been much impressed by the parental theory that +watermelons must not be stolen from the patches of their only +neighbor, a crusty old bachelor. As a man of the world, however, +listening to the views of one wiser and more experienced, he was made +to see that helping one's self to the melons of another is really not +the sort of thing a decent chap can do. Lily Bell, too, held the elder +man's opinion. + +"She says she doesn't like it, either," the boy confided to his father +with an admiring sigh. "She never would go with me, you know. My!"-- +this with a heavier sigh--"I'm 'fraid if I do all the things you an' +Lily Bell want me to I'll be awful good!" + +His father sought to reassure him on this point, but he himself was +beginning to cherish a lurking fear of a different character. Was +longer continuance of this dream companionship really wise? So far, if +it had influenced the boy at all, it had been for good. But he was +growing older; he was almost eleven. Was it not time that this +imaginary child friend should be eliminated in favor of--of what? The +father's mind came up against the question and recoiled, blankly. Not +exercise, not outdoor pursuits, not pets, for Raymond Mortimer had all +these and more. His little girl friend had not made him a milksop. He +was an active, energetic, live, healthy-minded boy, with all a boy's +normal interests. When he built kennels for his dogs and made hutches +for his rabbits, Lily Bell stood by, it is true, but her friendly +supervision but added to the vigor and excellence of his work. Indeed, +Lily, despite her pantalettes, seemed to have a sporty vein in her. +Still, the father reflected uneasily, it could lead to no good--this +continued abnormal development of the imagination. For Lily Bell was +as real to the boy at ten as she had been at six. + +What could be done? With what entering wedge could one begin to +dislodge this persistent presence? If one sent the boy away, Lily +Bell, of course, would go, too. If one brought--if--one--brought-- + +Mr. Prescott jumped to his feet and slapped his knee with enthusiasm. +He had solved his problem, and the solution was exceedingly simple. +What, indeed, but another little girl! A real little girl, a flesh- +and-blood little girl, a jolly, active little girl, who, as Mr. +Prescott inelegantly put it to himself, "would make Lily Bell, with +her ringlets and her pantalettes, look like thirty cents." Surely in +the circle of their friends and relatives there must be a little girl +who could be borrowed and introduced--oh, casually and with infinite +tact!--into their menage for a few months. Mr. Prescott, well pleased +with himself, winked a Machiavellian wink and sought his wife, +ostensibly to consult her, but in reality to inform her that he had +made up his mind, and that it would be her happy privilege to attend +to the trivial details of carrying out his plan. + +In exactly three weeks Margaret Hamilton Perry was established in the +Prescott homestead for a visit of indefinite length, and in precisely +three hours after her arrival Margaret Hamilton had annexed the +Prescott homestead and its inmates and all the things appertaining +thereto and made them her own. She was the most eager and adorable of +small, fat girls--alive from the crown of her curly head to the soles +of her sensible little spring-heeled shoes. As Mr. Prescott +subsequently remarked in a moment of extreme self-appreciation, if she +had been made to order she couldn't have filled the bill better. Born +and bred in the city, the country was to her a mine of unexplored +delights. The shyness of Raymond Mortimer, suddenly confronted by this +new personality and the immediate need of entertaining it, gave way +before the enthusiasm of the little girl over his pets, his favorite +haunts, the works of his hands--everything in which he had a share. +Clinging to his hand in a rapturous panic as they visited the animals, +she expatiated on the privileges of those happy beings who lived +always amid such delights. + +"I wish I didn't ever have to go away again," she ended, wistfully. + +"I wish you didn't, either," said Raymond, gallantly, and then was +shocked at himself. Was this loyalty to Lily Bell? The reflection gave +a tinge of coldness to his next utterance. When Margaret Hamilton, +cheered by the tribute, asked, confidently, "May I play with you lots +and help you to make things?" the boy's response lagged. + +"Yes," he said, finally, "if Lily Bell will let you." + +"Who's Lily Bell?" + +"She--why, she's the girl I play with! Everybody knows Lily Bell!" + +"Oh!" + +Some of the brightness was gone from the eager face. + +"Will she like me?" she asked, at last. + +"I don't know--I guess--p'r'aps so." + +"Will I like her?" + +"I don't know. You can't see her, you know." + +"Can't see her? Why can't I see her? Doesn't she come here, ever?" + +"Oh yes, she's here all the time, but--" The boy squirmed. For the +first time in his short life he was--_was_ he--ashamed of Lily Bell? +No; not that. Never that! He held his small head high, and his lips +set; but he was a boy, after all, and his voice, to cover the +embarrassment, took on a tone of lofty superiority. + +"Nobody ever does see her but me," he asserted. "They'd like to, but +they don't." + +"Why don't they?" + +Verily, this was a persistent child. The boy was in for complete +surrender, and he made it. + +"She ain't a little girl like you," he explained, briefly. "She +doesn't have any home, and I don't know where she comes from--heaven, +maybe," he hazarded, desperately, as a sort of "When in doubt, play +trumps." "But she comes, an' no one but me sees her, an' we play." + +"Huh!" This without enthusiasm from Margaret Hamilton Perry. She eyed +him remotely for a moment. Then, with an effort at understanding, she +spoke again. + +"I shouldn't think that would be very much fun," she said, candidly. +"Just pretendin' there's a little girl when there ain't! I should +think it would be lots nicer--" She hesitated, a sense of delicacy +restraining her from making the point she so obviously had in mind. + +"Anyhow," she added, handsomely, "I'll like her an' play with her if +you do." + +Raymond Mortimer was relieved but doubtful. Memories of the extreme +contrariness of Lily Bell on occasion overcame him. + +"If she'll let you," he repeated, doggedly. + +Margaret Hamilton stared at him and her eyes grew big. + +"Won't you let me, if she doesn't?" she gasped. "Why--why--" The +situation overcame her. The big, brown eyes filled suddenly. A small +gingham back rippling with fat sobs was presented to Raymond Mortimer. +In him was born immediately man's antipathy to woman's tears. + +"Oh, say," he begged, "don't cry; please don't." He approached the +gingham back and touched it tentatively. "She will let you play with +us," he urged. And then, moved to entire recklessness as the sobs +continued, "_I'll make her!"_ he promised. The gingham back stopped +heaving; a wet face was turned toward him, and a rainbow arched their +little heaven as Margaret Hamilton smiled. Her first triumph was +complete. + +It is to be regretted that Lily Bell did not at once lend herself to +the fulfilment of this agreeable understanding. True, she appeared +daily, as of yore, and Margaret Hamilton was permitted to enter her +presence and join her games, but the exactions of Lily Bell became +hourly more annoying. It was evident that Raymond Mortimer felt them +as such, for his anguished blushes testified to the fact when he +repeated them to the victim. + +"She wants you to go away off and sit down, so's you can't hear what +we're saying," he said to Margaret Hamilton one day. "I don't think +it's very p'lite of her, but she says you must." + +This brief criticism of Lily Bell, the first the boy had ever uttered, +cheered the little girl in her exile. "Never mind," she said. "I don't +care--much. I know it isn't your fault." For by this time she, too, +was under the influence of the spell of convincing reality which +Raymond Mortimer succeeded in throwing over his imaginary friend. + +"She does things Ray wouldn't do," she once confided to Miss Greene. +"I mean," hastily, as she suddenly realized her own words--"I mean she +makes him think--he thinks she thinks--Oh, I don't know how to 'splain +it to you!" And Margaret Hamilton hastily abandoned so complicated a +problem. In reality she was meeting it with a wisdom far beyond her +years. The boy was in the grip of an obsession. Margaret Hamilton +would have been sadly puzzled by the words, but in her wise little +head lay the idea they convey. + +"He thinks she really is here, an' he thinks he's got to be nice to +her because they're such ve-ry old fren's," she told herself. "But she +isn't very nice lately, an' she makes him cross, so maybe by-an'-by +he'll get tired an' make her act better; or maybe--" + +But that last "maybe" was too daring to have a place even in the very +furthest back part of a little girl's mind. + +She lent herself with easy good-nature to Lily Bell's exactions. She +had no fondness for that young person, and she let it be seen that she +had none, but she was courteous, as to a fellow-guest. + +"Pooh! I don't mind," was her usual comment on Miss Bell's behests; +and this cheerful acceptance threw into strong relief the dark shadows +of Lily Bell's perversity. Once or twice she proposed a holiday. + +"Couldn't we go off somewhere, just by ourselves, for a picnic," she +hazarded, one morning--"an' not ask Lily Bell?" + +It was a bold suggestion, but the conduct of Miss Bell had been +especially reprehensible the day before, and even the dauntless spirit +of Margaret Hamilton was sore with the strife. + +"Wouldn't you like a--a rest, too?" she added, insinuatingly. +Apparently the boy would, for without comment he made the preparations +for the day, and soon he and the child were seated side by side in the +boat in which the old gardener rowed them over to their beloved +island. + +It was a perfect day. Nothing was said about Lily Bell, and her +presence threw no cloud on those hours of sunshine. Seated adoringly +by the boy's side, Margaret Hamilton became initiated into the +mysteries of bait and fishing, and the lad's respect for his companion +increased visibly when he discovered that she could not only bait his +hooks for him, but could string the fish, lay the festive board for +luncheon, and set it forth. This was a playmate worth while. Raymond +Mortimer, long a slave to the exactions of Lily Bell, for whom he had +thanklessly fetched and carried, relaxed easily into the comfort of +man's more congenial sphere, and permitted himself to be waited on by +woman. + +In such and other ways the month of August passed. Margaret Hamilton, +like the happy-hearted child she was, sang through the summer days and +knitted more closely around her the hearts of her companions. + +With the almost uncanny wisdom characteristic of her, she refrained +from discussing Lily Bell with the other members of the family. +Possibly she took her cue from Raymond Mortimer, who himself spoke of +her less and less as the weeks passed; but quite probably it was part +of an instinct which forbids one to discuss the failings of one's +friends. Lily Bell was to Margaret Hamilton a blot on the boy's +scutcheon. She would not point it out even to him, actively as her +practical little soul revolted against his self-deception. Once, +however, in a rare moment of candor, she unbosomed herself to Mr. +Prescott. + +"I don't like her very well," she said, referring, of course, to Lily +Bell. "She's so silly! I hate to pretend an' pretend an' do things we +don't want to do when we could have such good times just by +ourselves." + +She buried her nose in his waistcoat as she spoke and sniffed rather +dismally. It had been a trying day. Lily Bell had been much _en +evidence_, and her presence had weighed perceptibly upon the spirits +of the two children. + +"Can't you get rid of her?" suggested the man, shamelessly. "A real +meat little girl like you ought to do away with a dream kid--an +imaginary girl--don't you think?" + +Margaret Hamilton raised her head and looked long into the eyes that +looked back at her. The man nodded solemnly. + +"I'd try if I were you," he said. "I'd try mighty hard. You don't want +her around. She's spoiling everything. Besides," he added, half to +himself, "it's time the boy got over his nonsense." + +Margaret Hamilton reflected, her small face brightening. + +"Are you very, very sure it wouldn't be wicked?" she asked, hopefully. + +"Yep. Perfectly sure. Go in and win!" + +Greatly cheered by this official sanction, Margaret Hamilton the +following day made her second suggestion of a day _a deux_. + +"All by ourselves," she repeated, firmly. "An' not Lily Bell, 'cos +she'd spoil it. An' you row me to the island. Don't let's take +Thomas." + +This was distinctly wrong. The children were not allowed to take the +boat save under Thomas's careful eye; but, as has been pointed out, +Margaret Hamilton had her faults. Raymond Mortimer struggled weakly in +the gulf of temptation, then succumbed and went under. + +"All right," he said, largely, "I will. We'll have lunch, too, and +p'r'aps I'll build a fire." + +"We'll play we're cave-dwellers," contributed Margaret Hamilton, whose +invention always exceeded his own, and whose imagination had recently +been stimulated by Miss Greene, who occasionally read aloud to the +children. "You hunt an' get the food an' bring it home, an' I'll cook +it. You be the big, brave man an' I'll be your--your mate," she +concluded, quoting freely from the latest interesting volume to which +she had lent an ear. + +The picture appealed to Raymond Mortimer. With a manly stride he +approached the boat, helped her in, loosened it from its moorings, and +cast off. His brow dark with care, he loftily ordered her to steer, +and spoke no more until they had safely made their landing. + +Alone on their desert island, the two children faithfully carried out +the programme of the day. With dry branches gathered by his mate the +intrepid male soon made a fire, and retreating hurriedly to a point +comfortably distant from it, they gazed upon their work. Fishing and +the cleaning and cooking of their catch filled the morning; and if, +indeed, the cleaning is something the mind would mercifully pass over, +those chiefly concerned were satisfied and ate with prodigious +appetite. + +"It's awful funny," said Raymond Mortimer, comfortably, as they +reposed under a tree after their repast, "but when Lily Bell an' I +used to come here--" + +He stopped and gazed apprehensively behind him, as if fearful that the +unbidden guest was even now within hearing. Apparently reassured, he +resumed: "When Lily Bell an' I used to come we 'most always went to +sleep after awhile. I--we--got kind of tired talking, I guess. But +when you an' I talk I don't get tired." + +Margaret Hamilton flushed with delight, but an excess of maidenly +modesty overcame her at the same moment. + +"Why don't you?" she inquired, coyly. + +"'Cos I like you better." + +Margaret Hamilton gasped, sputtered, looked around her. Everything was +in its place; there had been no submarine upheaval. The boy was there +and he had said this thing, the full meaning of which burst suddenly +upon her. Rising to her feet, she hurled herself upon him with the +impetuosity of her intense nature. + +"Do you really?" she gasped and gurgled. "Do you? Oh, do you? Oh, Ray, +I'm so glad!" + +And she kissed him! + +Disengaging himself with dignity from the clinging embrace of the +maiden, the outraged youth rose to his feet. + +"Don't you ever do that again, Margaret Hamilton Perry," he said, +slowly, and with awful sternness. "Don't you ever. Lily Bell never, +never did such a thing!" + +She retreated, but unabashed. + +"It's 'cause I was so glad," she said, happily. "Real girls always do; +they're like that. But I won't any more. You like me best, just the +same, don't you?" she inquired, anxiously. + +He came cautiously nearer. + +"Yes, I do," he said, coldly, "but don't you try that any more, or I +won't!" + +Then they talked of cave-dwellers, and of the pleasant warmth of an +open-air fire on an August day, and of marvellous things they would do +during the coming weeks. And the absorption of their conversation was +such that when the faithful Thomas, having rowed after them, +stealthily approached and smote the boy upon the back, they yelled in +startled unison. + +That no rancor lingered in the mind of Raymond Mortimer toward the +too-demonstrative Margaret Hamilton was proved by the careless remark +he made to his father when, some days later, that gentleman uttered a +jocund inquiry as to the health of Lily Bell. + +His son stared at him for an instant, as one who seeks to recall the +snows of yester-year. + +"Oh," he said, at last, "I haven't seen her for a long time. She +doesn't come round now." + +Then, as his father grinned widely over these melancholy tidings, the +son flushed crimson. + +"Well, I don't care," he said, hotly. "It's all your fault. Didn't you +tell me I had to 'muse Margaret? Didn't you? Well--I am. I ain't got +time for two. An', anyhow," he concluded, with Adamitic instinct, +"Lily Bell stopped coming herself!" + +The exorcism of Lily Bell was complete. Unlike more substantial Lily +Bells of larger growth, she had known how to make her disappearance +coincide with a wish to that effect on the part of her gentleman +friend. + + + + +III + +HER LAST DAY + + +For some time--possibly an hour or more--she sat perfectly still, +staring at a wavering line made on the floor by a stray sunbeam which +had forced its way through the window of her hotel sitting-room. At +first she looked unseeingly, with the dull, introspective gaze of the +melancholic. Then she began to notice the thing, and to fear it, and +to watch for outlines of a quivering human face, and to tremble a +little. Surely there had been a face--she thought vaguely, and +puckered her brow in an effort to remember. It was half an hour before +she realized what it was, and the passing of fifteen minutes more had +been ticked off by a clock on the table near her when she lifted her +glance enough to follow the beam along the floor, up the wall, to the +pane where it had entered. She rose suddenly. It was long since she +had made a consciously voluntary movement, and she knew this. She drew +a deep breath as she stood up, and almost on the instant she +experienced a life-giving sensation of poise and freedom. The weight +fell from her feet, the blackness in which she had lived for weeks +unwrapped itself from around her like a departing fog, her lax muscles +tightened. She groped her way to the window and stood there for a +moment, resting her cheek against the cool pane and gazing up at the +sky. Presently her eyes dropped to the level of a distant water-line, +and she saw the river and the trees that fringed its distant bank, and +the swiftly moving boats on its surface. + +She was better. She knew all that this meant, how much and how little. +For an interval, long or short, as it should happen to be, she was +again a rational human being. She abruptly swerved around from the +window and swept the room with her eyes, recognizing it as the one she +was occupying before she "went under," as she put it to herself, and +trying, from association with the familiar objects around her, to form +some idea of the length of this attack. + +At the beginning of her breakdown the intervals between intelligent +consciousness and insanity had been long. She was herself, or was able +to keep herself fairly in hand, the greater part of the time, and +chaos, when it came, lasted only for a few days or weeks. Recently +this condition had been reversed. She had lost knowledge of time, but +she felt that centuries must have passed since those last flying, +blessed hours when she knew herself at least for what she was. She +grasped now at her returning reason, with a desperate, shuddering +little moan, which she quickly stifled. Some one must be near, she +remembered, on guard: her nurse, or a hotel maid if the nurse was +taking one of her infrequent outings. Whoever was in charge of her +must be in the next room, for the door was open between the two. The +nurse would welcome her return, the patient reflected. It was her +habit--a singularly pathetic habit, the nurse had found it--to refer +always to her attacks as "absences," and to temporary recovery as +"returns." + +She moved toward the open door and then stopped, feeling suddenly that +she was not yet ready to talk to any one, even the nurse, for whom she +had a casually friendly feeling based on dependence and continued +association. She wished to think--dear God, to be able to think +again!--and there seemed so much thinking to be done and so little +time in which to do it. Her heart dropped a beat as she realized that. +On how much time could she safely count, she wondered. A week? A few +days? It had never been less than a week, until the last episode. She +turned from the thought of that with a sick shudder, but memory +dragged it up and ruthlessly held it before her--the hour, the moment, +the very place she was sitting when it occurred. She had been talking +to a friend, who unconsciously said something that annoyed and excited +her. She saw now that friend's face growing dim before her eyes--at +first puzzled, then frightened, then writhing and twisting into +hideous shapes, she thought, until in her horror she had struck at it. +She must not think of that, she knew, as she set her teeth and pulled +herself up short. She had a will of extraordinary strength, her +physicians and nurses had conceded, and she resolved that it should +serve her now. With grim determination she pieced together the patches +of memory left to her. She had had three days then--three short days. +She dared not count on even that much respite now, though she might +possibly have it and more. But one day--surely Providence would let +her have one day--one _last_ day. Her friends and the specialists had +begun to talk of asylums. She had heard whispers of them before she +succumbed to this last attack; and though her memory of what occurred +in it was mercifully vague, she dimly recalled struggles and the +shrieks of some one in agony--her own shrieks, she knew now, though +she had not known it then. It all meant that she was getting worse and +more "difficult." It all meant chronic invalidism, constant care, +eventual confinement. + +Her brain was now abnormally clear, supernaturally active. It worked +with an eager deference, as if striving to atone for the periods when +it failed her. The little clock struck ten. It was early--she had a +long day before her, a beautiful spring day; for she noticed now the +tender green of the leaves and the youth of the grass. How interesting +it would be, she reflected, idly, to go out into the free, busy world +and mingle with human beings, and walk the city streets and come into +touch with life and the living. She would go, she would spend the day +that way; but, alas! the nurse would go, too--cool, kind, +professional, alert, quietly watchful. If she could in any way elude +her and go alone. ... + +Her eyes narrowed and took on a look of cunning as she turned them +sidewise toward the open door. As stealthily as a cat she crept to it +and looked in. On a divan in the farthest corner the nurse lay +stretched in a deep sleep, whose unpremeditatedness was shown by the +book which lay on the floor, dropped, evidently, from her suddenly +relaxed fingers. The patient retreated as noiselessly as she had +advanced, and, going to a mantel-mirror in her sitting-room, turned on +her reflection there a long and frightened look. She saw a woman of +thirty-five, thin, pale, haggard, high-bred. Her hair had been +arranged in accordance with the nurse's conception of comfort and +economy of time, and though her gown was perfect in its fit and +tailor-made severity, the lace at her neck and in the sleeves of her +silk waist was not wholly fresh. Her lips curled as she looked. This +was she, Alice Stansbury, the wreck of a woman who had once had health +and beauty and wealth and position. The last two were in a degree left +to her, but what difference did it make how she looked, she asked +herself, harshly. Even as the thought came, however, she took off her +waist and sewed clean lace cuffs on the sleeves, replacing the collar +with a fresh one. Then she took down her hair and rearranged it, +rapidly but with care. It was a simple matter to change her slippers +for walking-boots, and to find her hat and coat and gloves in their +old places. Miss Manuel, the nurse, _was_ reliable, she told herself +again as she put them on, feeling a moment's gratitude to the woman +for trying to keep her "up," even during her "absences," to something +approaching the standard a gentlewoman's birth and breeding demanded. +Her money, or at least a large part of it, for she did not stop to +count it, she found in the despatch-box where she had put it on their +arrival in New York, and the key was with others on a ring in the +private drawer of her writing-desk. Hurriedly she selected several +large bills and put them into a silver purse, pressing it deep into +the pocket of her walking-skirt with some vague fear that she might +lose it. Then she replaced the box and locked the desk, dropping the +key in her pocket. Her movements were extraordinarily swift and +noiseless. In twenty minutes from the time she had looked in on the +nurse she was ready for the street. + +A second glance into the inner room showed her that Miss Manuel was +still sleeping. She regarded her distrustfully for an instant, and on +a sudden impulse sat down at her desk and wrote a message on a sheet +of the hotel paper. + +"I am going out for the day. _I will return to-night._ Do nothing, +consult no one. I am quite able to take care of myself. Don't make a +sensation for the newspapers! ALICE STANSBURY." + +"That last sentence will quiet her," she reflected, with cool +satisfaction, as she pinned the note to the side of the mirror. "She +won't care to advertise far and wide that she has temporarily mislaid +a patient!" + +The most difficult thing of all remained to be done. The outer door of +her own room was locked and the key was missing. To leave the +apartment she must pass through the room where Miss Manuel lay asleep. +She held her breath, but crossed in safety, though Miss Manuel stirred +and murmured something, as if subconsciously warned of danger. Miss +Stansbury closed the door noiselessly behind her and stood silent for +a moment in the hall, glancing about her and planning the wisest +method of getting away. She knew better than to enter any of the hotel +elevators. While there was no certainty that she would be detained if +she did, there had been a great deal of interest in her when she +arrived at the hotel, and there was every chance that some employe +might think it a wise precaution to ask her nurse a question or two +after she departed. Then Miss Manuel would be hot upon her trail, and +her day would be spoiled. She crept cautiously along the rear halls, +keeping out of sight on each floor when the elevators were passing, +and meeting only strangers and one preoccupied porter. Her rooms were +on the fifth floor, but she descended the four flights of stairs in +safety, and, going triumphantly out of the rear entrance of the hotel, +found herself in the quiet street on which it opened. The great +building was on a corner, and as she crossed its threshold she saw a +trolley-car passing along the avenue at her right. On a quick impulse +she signalled. When it stopped she entered and seated herself in a +corner, surveying her fellow-passengers with seeming unconcern, though +her breath came fast. She was safe; she was off! She decided to ride +on until she made her plans and knew in more detail what should be +done with this gift of the gods, a day that was all her own. + +It had been a long time since she had been alone, she suddenly +remembered. There had been outings, of course, and shopping +expeditions and the like, but always Miss Manuel or one of her kind +had been at her elbow--sometimes professionally cheerful, sometimes +professionally grave, but at all times professionally watchful. The +woman exulted fiercely in her new-found liberty. She had hours before +her--free, glorious hours. She would use them, fill them, squander +them in a prodigal spending, following every impulse, indulging every +desire, for they were hers and they were her last. In the depths of +her brain lay a resolution as silent, as deadly, as a coiled serpent +waiting to strike. She would enter no asylums, she would endure no +more "absences," she would have no more supervision, no more +consultations, no more half-concealed fear of friends, no more pity +from strangers. There was a way of escaping all this forever, and she +knew it and would take it, though it led across the dim threshold over +which she could never return. + +The car hummed as it sped along. At a distance she saw an entrance to +Central Park, and from the inside the branches of trees seemed to wave +a salute to her in honor of her freedom. She signalled to the +conductor and left the car, retracing her steps until she entered the +Park. She was far up-town, near the northern end of it, and the paths, +warm in the spring sunshine, were almost deserted. For a while she +strolled idly about, her senses revelling in the freshness and beauty +around her, in the green vistas that opened to right and left, and the +soft breeze that fanned her face. Children, riding tricycles or +rolling hoops, raced past her; and once, after she had walked almost +an hour, a small boy of four slipped his hand into her gloved one and +trotted beside her for a moment, to the open scandal of his nurse. She +smiled down at him, pleased by the touch of his little fingers. When +he left, as abruptly as he had joined her, and in response to a +stentorian Irish summons from the rear, she felt a rather surprising +degree of regret. The momentary contact had given her a pleasant sense +of companionship; for the first time it came to her that it would be +better to have a sharer of this day of days--no hireling, no +scientific-eyed caretaker, but a little child or a friend, some one, +any one, whom she liked and who liked her, and who, like the little +boy, did not know the truth about her. + +Her spirits dropped as suddenly as they had risen, and she felt tired +and disappointed. Almost unconsciously she dropped on a bench to rest, +her eyes still following the figure of the child, now almost out of +sight around a distant bend. The bench was off the path, and she had +been too preoccupied when she sat down to notice that it had another +occupant; but as the figure of her little friend vanished and she +turned her eyes away with a sigh, she found herself looking into those +of a man. He was very young, hardly more than a boy, and he occupied +the far end of the seat, one arm thrown across the back of it, his +knees crossed, and his body so turned that he faced her. The thing she +saw in his eyes held her own fastened to them, at first in surprise, +then in sudden comprehension. It was hunger. With a long look she took +him in--the pinched pallor of his smooth, handsome young face, the +feverish brightness of his gray eyes, the shabbiness of his well-made, +well-fitting clothes, even the rent in the side of one of his patent- +leather shoes. His linen was clean, and his cuffs were fastened with +cheap black links; she reflected instinctively that he had pawned +those whose place they obviously filled, and then her mind returned at +once to her first discovery, that he was hungry. There was no +mistaking it. She had never seen hunger in a face before, but she +recognized it now. He had taken off his hat and dropped it on the +bench beside him. His brown hair was short and wavy, and one lock on +his left temple was white. He had been writing a note, or possibly an +advertisement for work, with a stub of lead-pencil on a scrap of paper +resting on his knee, and now he suddenly raised his eyes--either in an +abstracted search for the right word or because her appearance had +startled him. + +Without hesitation she spoke to him. + +"Pardon me," she said, impersonally. "May I ask you some questions?" + +He looked at her, and the understanding of his situation revealed in +her glance brought the blood to his face. He straightened himself, his +lips parting for a reply, but she gave him no time to speak. + +"I am a stranger here," she continued, "and New York is not always +kind to strangers. You seem to be unhappy, too. I wonder if we cannot +help each other." + +He smiled with an unyouthful bitterness. + +"I'm afraid I'm not much use--to myself or any one else," he answered, +with hard deliberation. Then his face underwent a change as he looked +at hers and read in it, inexperienced as he was, some of the tragic +writing of Fate's inexorable hand. His voice showed his altered mood. + +"Of course," he added, quickly, "if there's really anything I can do. +I know the town well enough. Perhaps I can help you if you want to get +anywhere. What is it you would like?" + +Her face, under the sudden idea which came to her, could hardly be +said to brighten, but it changed, becoming less of a mask, more human. +She felt a thrill of unaccustomed interest, less in him than in the +plan which he unconsciously suggested. Here at last was something to +do. Here was a companion who did not know her. He was watching her +closely now, and it came to him for the first time, with a sense of +surprise, that this strange woman who had spoken to him was not old, +and was even attractive. + +"I think you can help me, if you will," she went on, quietly. "As I +have said, I am a stranger in New York. I have never seen anything of +it except the streets I passed through this morning between the Park +and my hotel. But I've always wanted to see it, and to-day is my first +and only opportunity, for I am going away to-night." + +He surveyed her thoughtfully. The shadow had returned to his face, and +it was plain that under his air of courteous interest stirred the +self-despair she had surprised in her first look at him. + +"Of course I can make out a sight-seer's list for you," he said, when +she stopped, "and I will, with pleasure. I think you'd better drop +into the Metropolitan Art Galleries while you're in the Park. I'll +write the other places in their street order going down-town, so you +won't waste time doubling on your tracks. Have you a bit of paper?" + +He began to fumble in his own pockets as he spoke, but vaguely, as one +who knows the search is vain. She shook her head. + +"No," she told him, "and I don't want one. That isn't my idea at all-- +a list of places to look up all alone and a dismal round of dreary +sight-seeing. What I would like"--she smiled almost demurely--"is a +'personally conducted' tour. Are you very busy?" + +He flushed again and looked at her, this time with a veiled suspicion +in his glance. She met it with such calm appreciation that it changed +to one of surprised doubt. She knew perfectly what was passing in his +mind, and it caused her no more concern than the puzzled silence of a +child who has heard a new word. She went on as complacently as if he +were the little boy who had walked beside her a few moments before. + +"In Paris and London," she remarked, "one can engage a guide, a +gentleman, for a day at a fixed price. Probably there are such guides +here in New York, if I knew where they were to be found and had the +time to look for them. You are much younger than I am. You might +almost be my son! Moreover, you will not mind my saying that I fancied +you were unemployed and possibly were looking for employment. You can +hardly help seeing the definite connection in all this." + +His eyes met hers for a moment and then dropped. He blushed boyishly. + +"I see you're trying to help me," he murmured, apologetically. + +She went on as if she had not heard him. + +"Let me employ you for the day. I need amusement, interest, +occupation--more than you can imagine. I am in the same mood, as far +as desolation and discouragement go, that you are in. I must be about, +seeing people and diverting my mind. We can each supply the other with +one thing that we need. I have money. To earn a little of that +professionally, by a humane service, should really appeal to you." + +Something in her voice as she uttered the last words made him turn +toward her again. As he looked, his young face softened. She waited in +silence for what he would say. + +He sat up and straightened his shoulders with a quick gesture. + +"You are right," he said, "but I'm awfully afraid you'll get the worst +of it. I'm not an ornamental escort for a lady, as you see." He looked +at his broken shoe, and then at her. Her expression showed entire +indifference to the point he had raised. + +"We will consider it settled," she said. "You will take my purse and +pay our joint expenses. I think," she went on, as she handed it to +him, "we'll omit the Metropolitan. After miles of the Louvre and the +Luxembourg and the Vatican, I don't seem to crave miles of that. +Suppose we take a cab and drive round. I want to see the streets, and +the crowds, and the different types of men and women, and the slums. I +used to be interested in Settlement work, long ago." + +"Pardon me," he said. "You have won your case. I will serve you to the +best of my ability. But as a preliminary I insist on counting the +money in this purse, and on your seeing that my accounts are all +right." + +"Do as you like about that," she replied, indifferently, but her +glance rested on him with a glint of approval. + +He deliberately counted the bills. "There are three hundred and forty +dollars," he said, replacing them. + +She nodded absently. She had sunk into a momentary reverie, from which +he did not arouse her until she suddenly looked at her watch. "Why, +it's after twelve!" she exclaimed, with more animation than she had +yet shown. "We'll go to Delmonico's or Sherry's for luncheon, and make +our programme while we're there." + +He started, and leaned forward, fixing his eyes on her, but she did +not meet them. She replaced her watch in her belt with a successful +assumption of abstraction, but she was full of doubt as to how he +would take this first proposition. The next instant the bench trembled +under the force with which he had dropped back on it. + +"God!" he cried, hoarsely, "it's all a put-up job to feed me because +you suspect I'm hungry! No, you don't even suspect--you _know_ I'm +hungry!" + +She put her hand on his arm, and the gesture silenced him. + +"Be quiet," she said. "Suppose you are hungry? What of it? Is it a +disgrace to be hungry? Men and women deliberately cultivate the +condition! Come," she ended, as she rose abruptly, "keep to your +bargain. We both need our luncheon." + +He replaced the purse in the inside-pocket of his coat, and rose. They +walked a few moments without a word. She noticed how well he carried +himself and how muscular and athletic his figure appeared even in its +shabby clothes. As they strolled toward the nearest exit she talked of +the Park, and asked him a few matter-of-fact questions, to which he +replied with growing animation. "I can't give you figures and +statistics, I'm afraid," he added, smiling. + +She shook her head. "It would be sad if you could," she said. "Give me +anything but information. As for statistics, I've a constitutional +distaste for them. Where can we find a cab?" + +"We won't find a cab," he explained, with an authoritative +independence which somehow appealed to her. "We'll take this trolley- +car and ride to within a short walk of Delmonico's. After luncheon +we'll find cabs at every turn." + +He helped her into a car as he spoke, and paid their fare from her +purse, flushing as he had to change a five-dollar note to do so. The +simple act emphasized for him, as no words could have done, his +peculiar relation to this strange woman, whom he had never seen until +half an hour ago. Balancing the purse in his hand, he glanced at her, +taking in almost unconsciously the tragic droop of her lips, the +prematurely gray locks in her dark hair, and the unchanging gloom of +her brown eyes. + +"How do you know I won't drop off the car at some corner and abscond +with this?" he asked, in a low voice. + +She looked at him calmly. + +"I think I know you will not. But if you did it would hurt me." + +"Would it spoil your day?" + +"Yes," she conceded, "it would spoil my day." + +"Well," he announced, judiciously, "you shall not have to reproach me +with anything of that kind. Your day shall be a success if I can make +it so." + +His manner was more than gentle. His mood was one of gratitude and +pleasant expectation. He was getting to know her and was sorry for +her--possibly because she trusted him and was sorry for him. She was +not the companion he would have chosen for a day's outing, and it was +doubtful if she would be any too cheerful; but he would serve her +loyally, wherever this queer adventure led, and he was young enough to +appreciate its possibilities. Inwardly she was amused by his little +affectation of experience, of ripe age addressing youth, but it was so +unconsciously done, so unconquerably youthful, that it added to the +interest he had aroused in her. She liked, too, his freshness and +boyish beauty, and his habit of asserting his sense of honor above +everything. Above all things, she liked his ignorance of her. To him, +she was merely a woman like other women; there was a satisfaction to +her in that thought as deep as it was indescribable. The only other +occupants of the car were a messenger-boy, lost to his surroundings in +a paper-covered novel, and a commercial traveller whose brow was +corrugated by mental strain over a notebook. + +"There are some things I would like to do in New York," she confided. +"We will do them now--lunch at Delmonico's, go sight-seeing all the +afternoon, dine at Sherry's, and go to the theatre this evening. Which +is the best play in town?" + +"Well--er--that, you know, depends on what you like," hazarded the +boy, sagely. "Do you prefer comedy, tragedy, or melodrama?" + +She reflected. + +"Something light," she decided; "something airy and effervescent--with +no problems or even thoughts in it." + +His eyes twinkled as he smiled at her. If these were her tastes, she +was getting on, he reflected, and the vista of the long day before him +offered attractions. + +"'Peter Pan'!" he exclaimed. "That's all those things. I've not seen +it, but I've read the criticisms, and I know a fellow who has gone +five times." + +"Testimony enough," agreed his companion. "We'll go to 'Peter Pan.' +Now tell me something about yourself." + +"Is that in the bond?" + +"No. That would be a gift." + +"I'd--I'd rather not, if you don't mind." + +He indulged in his inevitable painful blush as he spoke, but she +stared at him without pity and with a sudden hauteur which gave him a +glimpse of another side of her complex nature. This woman who picked +up strange youths in the street and spent the day with them was +obviously accustomed to unquestioning deference from others. He edged +away from her, firm but unhappy. + +"You're right," she said, at last. "We'll add a clause to our compact +and play we're disembodied spirits. Neither of us will ask the other a +personal question." + +"Agreed, and thank you. It's not that I wouldn't be flattered, you +know, by your interest, and all that," he went on, awkwardly. "It's +only because it's such a beastly harrowing recital and shows me up in +such--such an inefficient light. It would depress you, and it couldn't +do me any good. The things about myself are what I want to get away +from--for a while." + +They were soon at Delmonico's, and she followed him into the main +dining-room, where she selected a table at a window looking out on the +Avenue. The head waiter glanced at him, hesitated, surveyed her, and +showed that he was indeed a good servant who knew his own. He hovered +over them with deepening interest as they scanned the menu. + +The boy smiled at his companion, trying not to notice the smell of the +food around them, nor the horrible sinking sensation which overwhelmed +him at intervals. A sickening fear swept over him that he would faint +before luncheon came--faint on a lady's hands, and from starvation at +that! He plunged into conversation with reckless vivacity. + +When the waiter came with the oysters she set the example of eating +them at once. Her companion followed it in leisurely fashion. She told +herself that he was a thoroughbred, and that she had not been mistaken +in him, but she would almost have preferred to see him eat wolfishly. +His restraint got on her nerves. She could not eat, though she made a +pretence of it. When he had eaten his soup with the same careful +deliberation, a little color came into his face. She observed this, +and her tension relaxed. + +"The last time I was here," he said, absently, "was two years ago. One +of the fellows at New Haven had a birthday, and we celebrated it in +the corner room just above this. It was a pretty lively dinner. We +kept it up from seven o'clock until two in the morning, and then we +all went out on the Avenue and sat down in the middle of the street, +where it was cool, to smoke and talk it over. That was Davidson's +idea. It annoyed the cabmen and policemen horribly. They have such +ready tempers and such torpid minds." + +The recital and the picture it called up amused her. + +"What else did you do?" she asked, with interest. + +"I'm afraid I don't remember much of it," he confessed. "I know we +were pretty silly; but I do remember how foolish the head waiter +looked when Davidson insisted on kissing him good-bye in the hall out +there, and cried because he didn't know when he'd see him again. Of +course you can't see how funny that was, because you don't know +Davidson. He was the most dignified chap at college, and hated gush +more than any one I ever knew." + +He drank the last of his black coffee with a sigh of content, and blew +a last ring from the cigar she had insisted that he should smoke. + +"Don't you think," he hazarded, "that it would be jolly to drive up +and down Broadway and Fifth Avenue for an hour or two? If you want +crowds, they're there; and if you see anything worth closer +inspection, we can get out and look at it." + +She agreed, and he paid the bill, tipping the waiter discriminatingly. + +As their hansom threaded its way through the crowded street she rarely +smiled, but her sombre eyes took in everything, and she "said things," +as the boy put it, which he recalled and quoted years afterward. +Incidentally she talked of herself, though always without giving him a +clew as to who she was and where she came from. Several times, as a +face in the passing throng caught her interest, she outlined for him +in a few terse words the character of its possessor. He was +interested, but he must have unconsciously suggested a certain +unbelief in her intuition, for once she stopped speaking and looked at +him sharply. + +"You think I don't know," she said, "but I do. We always know, until +we kill the gift with conventionalities. We're born with an intuitive +knowledge of character. Savages have it, and animals, and babies. We +lose it as we advance in civilization, for then we distrust our +impressions and force our likes and dislikes to follow the dictates of +policy. I've worked hard to keep and develop my insight, and behold my +reward! I recognized you at the first glance as the perfect companion +of a day." + +The boy's face flamed with pleasure. + +"Then it is a success?" + +"It is a success. But it's also five o'clock. What next?" + +"Then it's been a success?" he repeated, dreamily--"so far, I mean. +We've done so little in one way, but I'm awfully glad you've liked it. +We'll drop into Sherry's now for a cup of tea and a buttered English +muffin and the beautiful ladies and the Hungarian Band. Then, instead +of dining there, suppose we go to some gayer, more typical New York +place--one of the big Broadway restaurants? That will show you another +'phase,' as you say; and the cooking is almost as good." + +She agreed at once. "I think I'd like that," she said. "I want as much +variety as I can get." + +He leaned toward her impressively over the little table in the tea- +room, recalling her unexpected tribute to the "perfect companion," and +feeling all at once surprisingly well acquainted with her. + +"What a pity you've got to go away tonight!" he murmured, ingenuously. +"There's so much left to do." + +For an instant, as memory rolled over her, her heart stopped beating. +He observed her change of expression and looked at her with a +sympathetic question in his gray eyes. + +"Can't you change your plans?" he suggested, hopefully. "Must you go?" + +"No, they're not that kind of plans. I must go." + +As she spoke her face had the colorlessness and the immobility he had +seen in it during the first moments it was turned toward him in the +morning, and her features suddenly looked old and drawn. Under the +revelation of a trouble greater than he could understand, the boy +dropped his eyes. + +"By Jove!" he thought, suddenly, "she's got something the matter with +her." He wondered what it was, and the idea flashed over him that it +might be an incurable disease. Only the year before he had heard a +friend receive his death-warrant in a specialist's office, and the +memory of the experience remained with him. He was so deep in these +reflections that for a moment he forgot to speak, and she in her turn +sat silent. + +"I'm sorry," he then said, awkwardly. Then, rightly divining the +quickest way to divert her thoughts, he suggested that they should +drive again before dinner, for an hour or two, to get the effect of +the twilight and the early lights on Broadway. + +She agreed at once, as she had agreed to most of his suggestions, and +her face when she looked at him was serene again, but he was not +wholly reassured. In silence he followed her to the cab. + +Over their dinner that night in the glittering Broadway restaurant, +with the swinging music of French and German waltzes in their ears, +she relaxed again from the impersonal attitude she had observed during +the greater part of the day. She looked at him more as if she saw him, +he told himself, but he could not flatter himself that the change was +due to any deepening of her interest in him. It was merely that she +knew him better, and that their long hours of sight-seeing had +verified her judgment of him. + +Their talk swept over the world. He realized that she had lived much +abroad and had known many interesting men and women. From casual +remarks she dropped he learned that she was an orphan, unmarried, with +no close ties, and that her home was not near New York. This, when the +next day, after a dazed reading of the morning newspapers, he summed +up his knowledge of her, was all he could recall--the garnered drift- +wood of a talk that had extended over twelve hours. + +"You look," he said once, glancing critically at her, "as if you had +lived for centuries and had learned all the lessons life could teach." + +She shook her head. "I have lived for centuries, so far as that goes," +she said, "but of all the lessons I've really learned only one." + +"And that is?" + +"How little it all amounts to." + +Again, as he studied her, he experienced an unpleasant little tremor. +He felt at the same time an odd conviction that this woman had played +a part all day, and that now, through fatigue and depression, she was +tiring of her role and would cast it away, showing herself to him as +she was. For some reason he did not want this. The face behind the +mask, of which he was beginning to get a glimpse at intervals, was a +face he feared he would not like. He shrank from it as a child shrinks +from what it does not understand. + +Much to his relief, she threw off the dark mood that seemed to +threaten her, and at the play she was more human than she had been +yet. + +"Ah, that first act," she said, as the curtain fell on Peter Pan's +flight through the window with the Darling Children--"that delicious +first act! Of course Barrie can't keep it up--no one could. But the +humor of it and the tenderness and the naivete! Only a grown-up with +the heart of a child could really appreciate it." + +"And you are that?" he asked, daringly. He knew she was not. + +"Only for this half-hour," she smiled. "I may get critical at any +moment and entirely out of touch." + +She did not, however, and watching her indulgent appreciation of the +little boys in Never Never Land, he unconsciously reflected that, +after all, this must be the real woman. That other personality, some +sudden disheartening side of which he got from time to time, was not +his new friend who laughed like a young girl over the crocodile with +the clock inside, and showed a sudden swift moisture in her brown eyes +when the actress pleaded for the dying fairy. When the curtain fell on +the last act, leaving Peter Pan alone with his twinkling fairy friends +in his little home high among the trees, Alice Stansbury turned to her +companion with the sudden change of expression he had learned to +dread. The pupils of her eyes were strangely dilated, and she was +evidently laboring under some suppressed excitement. She spoke to him +curtly and coolly. + +"We'll have a Welsh rabbit somewhere," she said, "and then I'll go-- +back." He was struck by this use of the word, and by the tone of her +voice as she said it. "Back," he repeated, mentally--"back to +something mighty unpleasant, I'll wager." + +At the restaurant she ate nothing and said little. All the snap and +sparkle had gone out of the day and out of their companionship as +well. Even the music was mournful, as if in tacit sympathy, and the +faces of the diners around them looked tired and old. When they left +the dining-room they stood together for an instant in the vestibule +opening into the street. No one was near them, and they were for the +moment beyond the reach of curious eyes. She cast one quick look +around to be sure of this, and then, going close to him, she put both +her hands on his shoulders. As she stood thus he realized for the +first time how tall she was. Her eyes were almost on a level with his +own. + +"You're a dear boy," she said, quickly, and a little breathlessly. +"You have made the day perfect, and I thank you. We shall not meet +again, but I'd like to feel that you won't forget me, and I want you +to tell me your first name." + +He put his hands over hers. + +"It's Philip," he said, simply, "and as for forgetting, you may be +very sure I won't. This isn't the kind of thing one forgets, and +you're not the kind of woman." + +As he spoke the grip of her hands on his shoulders tightened, and she +leaned forward and kissed him on the mouth. Under the suddenness and +the surprise of it his senses whirled, but even in the chaos of the +moment he was conscious of two conflicting impressions--the first, an +odd disappointment in her, his friend; the second, an absurd +resentment against the singular remoteness of those cool, soft lips +that for an instant brushed his own. She gave him no chance to speak. + +"I've left my gloves on the table," she said, crisply. "Get them." + +He went without a word. When he returned the vestibule was deserted. +With a swift intuition of the truth he opened the door and rushed out +into the street. She was not there, nor the cabman whom he had +instructed to wait for them. She had slipped away, as she intended to +do, and the kiss she had given him had been a farewell. He was left +standing looking stupidly up and down the street, with her gloves in +his hand and her purse, as he now remembered, in his pocket. Well, he +could advertise that the next morning, in such a way that she could +reclaim it without seeing him again if she wished. He could even seal +it in an envelope and leave it at the _Herald_ office, to be given to +any one who would describe it. He walked slowly down Broadway and +turned into the side street which held the house and the unattractive +hall bedroom he called home. He felt "let down," as he would have put +it, and horribly lonely and depressed. She was such a good sort, he +reflected, and it was such a big pity she wouldn't let him see her +again. He knew somehow that he never would. She was not a woman that +changed her mind about things. Jove! but the whole experience had been +interesting; and that kiss--that kiss he had been cad enough to +misunderstand for an instant. ... The deepest blush of the day +scorched his face as he recalled it. + +Miss Stansbury arrived at the front entrance of her hotel at the same +moment, and tersely instructed the driver to collect his fare at the +desk. She entered the hall with him, and walked indifferently past the +night clerk, answering with a nod the tacit question of that youth as +he glanced from her to the cabman. She was not unconscious of the +suppressed excitement in his manner nor of the elevator boy's relief +as he joyfully greeted her appearance in his car. What did it matter? +What did anything matter now? Her day was over. + +Miss Manuel, already informed of her arrival by a hurried telephone +message from the office, was waiting for her at the door of their +apartment. She burst into tears as she put her arms around her patient +and kissed her and led her inside. + +"Oh, my dear, how _could_ you?" she cried, reproachfully. "Think of +the agonies I've been through. It's almost twelve o'clock." + +The other woman did not look at her, nor did she return the caress. +She walked into the room and sat down at her desk, with a strange +appearance of haste, at which the nurse marvelled. Without waiting to +take off her hat or coat, she seized a pen and paper and wrote these +lines, marking them plainly: + +PERSONAL + +FOR INSERTION IN TO-MORROW'S "HERALD" + +_PHILIP.--The purse was purposely left with you. Its contents are +yours._ + +She put this in an envelope and directed it to the _Herald_ +Advertising Department. Then, for the first time, she spoke to the +nurse, balancing the envelope absently in her hand as she talked, and +not looking once at the other's face. Her tones were level and +monotonous, almost as if she were repeating a lesson. + +"You need not have worried," she said, answering at last the nurse's +first words. "I've had what I've wanted for years--a whole day to +myself. I've done what I wanted to do. It's been worth while. But," +she added, more slowly, "you needn't ask me about it, for I shall not +tell you anything. Ring for a messenger, please. I want this taken to +the _Herald_ office at once; give him the money to pay for it." + +In silence Miss Manuel obeyed. When the boy came she went into the +hall to hand the envelope to him, glancing at the address as she did +so. The instant she crossed the threshold Alice Stansbury slipped into +the next room and opened a window looking down into a court. As she +did so she whimpered like a frightened child. + +"I must do it," she whispered. "I must--I must--now--now--now! If I +wait, I won't--dare." + +When the nurse entered the room there was only the open window to tell +her what had happened. Panting, she leaned out and looked down with +starting eyes. Far below, on the asphalt floor of the court, was a +dark mass which moved once and then lay still. + +The little clock on the table in the inner room struck twelve. Out in +the hall the messenger whistled softly as he waited for the elevator. +Hearing these familiar sounds, the nurse cast off the paralysis which +had held her, and the silent corridor of the great hotel echoed her +useless call for help. + + + + +IV + +THE SIMPLE LIFE OF GENEVIEVE MAUD + + +Genevieve Maud reclined in a geranium-bed in an attitude of unstudied +ease. On her fat body was a white dress, round her waist was a wide, +blue sash, perched on one side of her head was a flaunting blue bow, +and in her heart was bitterness. It was dimly comforting to lie down +in all this finery, but it did not really help much. She brooded +darkly upon her wrongs. They were numerous, and her cherubic little +face took on additional gloom as she summed them up. First, she had +been requested to be good--a suggestion always unwelcome to the +haughty soul of Genevieve Maud, and doubly so this morning when she +saw no alternative but to obey it. Secondly, there was no one to play +with--a situation depressing to any companionable being, and +grindingly so to one who considered all men her peers, all women her +unquestioning slaves, and all animals grateful ministers to her needs +in lowlier fields of delight. + +These delusions, it must be admitted, had been fostered during the +four short but eventful years of Genevieve Maud's life. Her method of +approach had been singularly compelling; old and young paused not to +argue, but freely stripped themselves of adornments she fancied, and +animals, from the kitten she carried round by one ear to the great St. +Bernard she half strangled in recurring moments of endearment, bore +with her adoringly, and humbly followed the trail of cake she left +behind her when she tired of them and trotted off in search of fresh +attractions. These were usually numerous; and had they been rarer, the +ingenuity of Genevieve Maud would have been equal to the test. There +were no social distinctions in her individual world. But one short +year ago she had followed a hand-organ man and a monkey to a point +safely distant from too-observant relatives and servants; there, +beside the chattering monkey, she had sung and danced and scrambled +for pennies and shaken a tambourine, and generally conducted herself +like a _debutante_ maenad. + +That had been a glorious day. She recalled it now smoulderingly, +resentfully. Different, indeed, was the tragic present. No one to play +with--that was bad enough. But there were still worse conditions. She +was not even allowed to play by herself! Rover had been banished to a +neighbor's, the kitten had been lent generously to the Joyce children, +her human playmates had been warned off the premises, and Genevieve +Maud had been urged to be a dear little girl and keep very, very quiet +because mamma was sick. As if this was not enough, fate drove its +relentless knife and gave it a final twist. Far back in a corner of +the garden where she lay, almost hidden by the drooping branches of an +old willow, sat her two sisters, Helen Adeline and Grace Margaret, +highly superior beings of a stately dignity even beyond their ripe +ages of eleven and nine years. They were too old to play with little +girls, as they had frequently mentioned to Genevieve Maud, but they +were not wholly beyond the power of her spell, and there had been +occasions when they had so far forgotten themselves as to descend to +her level and enjoy doll tea-parties and similar infantile pleasures. +To-day, however, they were of a remoteness. Their plump backs were +turned to her, their heads were close together, and on the soft +afternoon breeze that floated over the garden were borne sibilant +whispers. They were telling each other secrets--secrets from which +Genevieve Maud, by reason of her tender years, was irrevocably shut +out. + +Genevieve Maud sat up suddenly in the flower-bed as the full horror of +this truth burst upon her, and then briskly entered into action +designed to transform the peace and quiet of the scene. Her small, fat +face turned purple, her big, brown eyes shut tight, her round mouth +opened, and from the tiny aperture came a succession of shrieks which +would have lulled a siren into abashed silence. The effect of this +demonstration, rarely long delayed, was instantaneous now. A white- +capped nurse came to an up-stairs window and shook her head warningly; +the two small sisters rose and scurried across the lawn; a neighbor +came to the hedge and clapped her hands softly, clucking mystic +monosyllables supposed to be of a soothing nature; neighboring +children within hearing assumed half-holiday expressions and started +with a rush to the side of the blatant afflicted one. Surveying all +this through half-shut eyes and hearing the steady tramp of the +oncoming relief corps, an expression of triumphant content rested for +an instant of Genevieve Maud's face. Then she tied it up again into +knots of even more disfiguring pattern, took another long breath, and +apparently made an earnest effort to attract the attention of citizens +of the next township. "I'm tired!" was the message Genevieve Maud sent +to a sympathetic world on the wings of this megaphonic roar. + +The trained nurse, who had rushed down-stairs and into the garden, now +reached her side and drastically checked Genevieve Maud's histrionism +by spreading a spacious palm over the wide little mouth. With her +other hand she hoisted Genevieve Maud from the flower-bed and escorted +her to neutral ground on the lawn. + +"'Tired!'" repeated the irate nurse, as the uproar subsided to +gurgles. "Heavens! I should think you would be, after that!" Helen +Adeline and Grace Margaret arrived simultaneously, and the older child +took the situation and the infant in hand with her best imitation of +her mother's manner. + +"I am so sorry you were disturbed, Miss Wynne," she said, "and poor +mamma, too. We will take care of Genevieve Maud, and she won't cry any +more. We were just making some plans for her future," she ended, +loftily. + +The mouth of Genevieve Maud, stretched for another yell, was arrested +in its distension. Her small ears opened wide. Was she, after all, in +the secret? It would seem so, for the nurse, seemingly satisfied, left +the three children alone and went back to her patient, while Helen +Adeline at once led her small sister to the choice retreat under the +willow. + +"We are going to talk to you, Genevieve Maud," she began, "ve-ry +seriously, and we want you to pay 'tention and try to understand." +This much was easy. Mamma usually opened her impressive addresses in +such fashion. + +"'Pay 'tention and try to understand," echoed Genevieve Maud, and +grinned in joyful interest. + +"Yes, really try," repeated Helen Adeline, firmly. Then, rather +impatiently, and as one bearing with the painful limitations of the +young, she went on: + +"You're so little, Maudie, you see, you don't know; and you won't know +even if we tell you. But you are a spoiled child; every one says so, +and mamma said the other day that something should be done. She's +sick, so she can't do it, but we can. We've got to take care of you, +anyhow, so this is a good time. Now what it really is, is a kind of +game. Gracie and I will play it, and you are going to--to--well, you +are going to be the game." + +Genevieve Maud nodded solemnly, well satisfied. She was in it, anyhow. +What mattered the petty details? "'Going to be the game,'" she echoed, +as was her invariable custom, with the air of uttering an original +thought. + +Helen Adeline went on impressively. + +"It's called the simple life," she said, "and grown-up folks are +playing it now. I heard the minister an' mamma talking about it las' +week for hours an' hours an' hours. They give up pomps an' vanerties, +the minister says, an' they mus'n't have luxuries, an' they mus' live +like nature an' save their souls. They can't save their souls when +they have pomps an' vanerties. We thought we'd try it with you first, +an' then if we like it--er--if it's nice, I mean, p'r'aps Grace an' I +will, too. But mamma is sick, an' you've had too many things an' too +much 'tention, so it's a good time for you to lead the simple life an' +do without things." + +Genevieve Maud, gazing into her sister's face with big, interested +eyes, was vaguely, subconsciously aware that the new game might halt +this side of perfect content; but she was of an experimental turn and +refrained from expressing any scepticism until she knew what was +coming. In the mean time the eyes of her sister Grace Margaret had +roamed disapprovingly over Genevieve Maud's white dress, the blue sash +that begirded her middle, the rampant bow on her hair. Katie had put +on all these things conscientiously, and had then joyfully freed her +mind from the burden of thought of the child for the rest of the +afternoon. + +"Don't you think," Grace Margaret asked Helen Adeline, tentatively, +"sashes an' bows is pomps?" + +Helen Adeline gave the speaker a stolid, unexpressive glance. She +acquiesced. + +"Let's take 'em off," went on the younger and more practical spirit. +"Then we won't never have to tie 'em for her, either, when they get +loose." + +They stripped Genevieve Maud, first of the sash and bows, then of the +white gown, next of her soft undergarments, finally, as zeal waxed, +even of her shoes and stockings. She stood before them clad in +innocence and full of joyful expectation. + +"All these fine clothes is pomps an' vanerties," remarked Helen +Adeline, firmly. "The minister said so when he was talking with mamma +'bout the simple life, an' Gracie and I listened. It was very +interestin'." + +She surveyed the innocent nudity of her little sister, "naked but not +ashamed," with a speculative glance. + +"Katie will be glad, won't she?" she reflected, aloud. "She says +there's too much washing. Now she won't have to do any more for you. +Don't you feel better an' happier without those pomps?" she asked +Genevieve Maud. + +That young person was already rolling on the grass, thrusting her +little toes into the cool earth, exulting in her new-found sartorial +emancipation. If this was the "new game," the new game was a winner. +Grace Margaret, gazing doubtfully at her, was dimly conscious of an +effect of incompleteness. + +"I think she ought to have a hat," she murmured, at last. Helen +Adeline was good-naturedly acquiescent. + +"All right," she answered, cheerfully, "but not a pompy one. Papa's +big straw will do." They found it and put it on the infant, whose eyes +and face were thereby fortunately shaded from the hot glare of the +August sun. Almost before it was on her head she had slipped away and +was running in and out of the shrubbery, her white body flashing among +the leaves. + +"We'll have our luncheon here," announced Helen Adeline, firmly, "an' +I'll bring it out to save Katie trouble. Maudie can't have rich food, +of course, 'cos she's livin' the simple life. We'll give her bread off +a tin plate." + +Grace Margaret looked startled. + +"We haven't got any tin plate," she objected. + +"Rover has." + +Grace Margaret's eyes dropped suddenly, then rose and met her +sister's. An unwilling admiration crept into them. + +"How will Maudie learn nice table manners?" she protested, feebly. +"Mamma says she must, you know." + +"Folks don't have nice table manners when they're livin' simple +lives," announced Helen Adeline, loftily. "They just eat. I guess we +won't give her knives an' forks an' spoons, either." + +Grace Margaret battled with temptation and weakly succumbed. + +"Let's give her some of the rice pudding, though," she suggested. "It +will be such fun to see her eat it, 'specially if it's very creamy!" + +Of further details of that luncheon all three children thereafter +declined to speak. To Genevieve Maud the only point worthy of mention +was that she had what the others had. This compromise effected, the +manner of eating it was to her a detail of indescribable unimportance. +What were knives, forks, spoons, or their lack, to Genevieve Maud? The +tin plate was merely a gratifying novelty, and that she had been in +close communion with rice pudding was eloquently testified by the +samples of that delicacy which clung affectionately to her features +and her fat person during the afternoon. + +While they ate, Helen Adeline's active mind had been busy. She +generously gave her sisters the benefit of its working without delay. + +"She mus'n't have any money," she observed, thoughtfully, following +with unseeing eyes the final careful polish the small tongue of +Genevieve Maud was giving Rover's borrowed plate. "No one has money in +the simple life, so we mus' take her bank an' get all the money out +an'--" + +"Spend it!" suggested Grace Margaret, rapturously, with her second +inspiration. Helen Adeline reflected. The temptation was great, but at +the back of her wise little head lay a dim foreboding as to the +possible consequences. + +"No," she finally decided, consistently. "I guess it mus' be given to +the poor. We'll break the bank an' take it out, an' Maudie can give it +to the poor all by herself. Then if any one scolds, _she_ did it! +You'll enjoy that kind an' noble act, won't you, Maudie?" she added, +in her stateliest grown-up manner. + +Maudie decided that she would, and promptly corroborated Helen +Adeline's impression. The soft August breeze fanned her body, the +grass was cool and fresh under her feet, and her little stomach looked +as if modelled from a football by her ample luncheon. She was to be +the central figure in the distribution of her wealth, and wisdom +beyond her own would burden itself with the insignificant details. +Genevieve Maud, getting together the material for large and slushy mud +pies, sang blithely to herself, and found the simple life its own +reward. + +"We'll leave her with her dolls," continued Helen Adeline, "an' we'll +hunt up deservin' poor. Then we'll bring 'em here an' Maudie can give +'em all she has. But first"--her little sharp eyes rested +discontentedly upon Genevieve Maud's family--six dolls reposing in a +blissful row in a pansy-bed--"first we mus' remove _those_ pomps an' +vanerties." + +Grace gasped. + +"Take away the dolls?" she ejaculated, dizzily. + +"No, not edzactly. Jus' take off all their clothes. Don't you think it +looks silly for them to have clothes on when Maudie hasn't any?" + +Grace Margaret agreed that it did, and at once the mistake was +rectified, the clothing was added to the heap of Genevieve Maud's +garments, and a pleasing effect of harmony reigned. The little girls +regarded it with innocent satisfaction. + +"I s'pose we couldn't really take her dolls," reflected Helen Adeline, +aloud. "She'd make an awful fuss, an' she's so good an' quiet now it's +a pity to start her off. But her toys _mus'_ go. They're very +expensive, an' they're pomps an' vanerties, I know. So we'll take 'em +with us an' give 'em to poor children." + +"You think of lots of things, don't you?" gurgled Grace Margaret, with +warm admiration. Her sister accepted the tribute modestly, as no more +than her due. Leaving Genevieve Maud happy with her mud pies and her +stripped dolls, the two sought the nursery and there made a +discriminating collection of her choicest treasures. Her Noah's Ark, +her picture-books, her colored balls and blocks, her woolly lambs that +moved on wheels, her miniature croquet set, all fell into their +ruthless young hands and, as a crowning crime, were dumped into the +little go-cart that was the very apple of Genevieve Maud's round eyes. +It squeaked under its burden as the children drew it carefully along +the hall. They carried it down-stairs with exaggerated caution, but +Genevieve Maud saw it from afar, and, deeply moved by their +thoughtfulness, approached with gurgles of selfish appreciation. The +conspirators exchanged glances of despair. It was the intrepid spirit +of Helen Adeline that coped with the distressing situation. Sitting +down before her victim, she took Maudie's reluctant hands in hers and +gazed deep into her eyes as mamma was wont to gaze into hers on the +various occasions when serious talks became necessary. + +"Now, Genevieve Maud," she began, "you mus' listen an' you mus' mind, +or you can't play. Ain't you havin' a good time? If you don't want to +do what we say, we'll put your clothes right straight on again an' +leave you in the midst of your pomps an' vanerties: an' then--what'll +become of your soul?" She paused impressively to allow this vital +question to make its full appeal. Genevieve Maud writhed and squirmed. + +"But," continued Helen Adeline, solemnly, "if you do jus' as we say, +we'll let you play some more." The larger issue was temporarily lost +sight of this time, but the one presented seemed to appeal vividly to +Genevieve Maud. + +"Let Genevieve Maud play some more," she wheedled. + +"And will you do everything we say?" + +"Do everything you say," promised Genevieve Maud, recklessly. + +"Very well,"--this with a fidelity in its imitation to her mother's +manner which would have convulsed that admirable and long-suffering +woman could she have heard it. "An' first of all we mus' give away +your toys to poor children." + +The mouth of Genevieve Maud opened. Helen Adeline held up a warning +hand, and it shut. + +"They're _pomps_," repeated the older sister, positively, "an' we'll +bring you simple toys if poor children will exchange with us." + +This was at least extenuating. Genevieve Maud hesitated and sniffed. +In the matter of being stripped, toys were more important than +clothes. + +"If you don't, you know, you can't play," Grace Margaret reminded her. + +"Awright," remarked Genevieve Maud, briefly. "Give toys to poor +chil'ren." + +They hurriedly left her before her noble purpose could do so, and +Genevieve Maud, left to her own resources, made unctuous mud pies and +fed them to her family. Grace Margaret and Helen Adeline returned in +triumph within the hour and laid at the feet of their small victim +modest offerings consisting of one armless rubber doll, one dirty and +badly torn picture-book, and one top, broken. + +"These is simple," declared Helen Adeline, with truth, "an' the poor +Murphy children has your pomps, Maudie. Are you glad?" + +Genevieve Maud, surveying doubtfully the nondescript collection before +her, murmured without visible enthusiasm something which was +interpreted as meaning that she was glad. As a matter of fact, the +charm of the simple life was not borne in upon her compellingly. The +top she accepted until she discovered that it would not go. The rubber +doll she declined to touch until Grace Margaret suggested that it had +been in a hospital and had had its arms amputated like Mrs. Clark's +son Charlie. Deeply moved by the pathos of this tragic fate, Genevieve +Maud added the rubber doll to her aristocratic family, whose members +seemed to shrink aside as it fell among them. The picture-book she +declined to touch at all. + +"It's dirty," she remarked, with an air of finality which effectually +closed the discussion. By this time she was not herself an especially +effective monument of cleanliness. The rice pudding and the mud pies +had combined to produce a somewhat bizarre effect, and the dirt she +had casually gathered from the paths, the flower-beds, and the hedges +enlivened but did not improve the ensemble. + +"She ought to be washed pretty soon," suggested Grace, surveying her +critically; but to this tacit criticism Helen Adeline promptly took +exception. + +"They don't have to, so much," she objected, "when it's the simple +life. That's one of the nice things." + +With this decision Genevieve Maud was well content. Her tender years +forbade hair-splitting and subtle distinctions; the term "accumulated +dirt" or "old dirt" had no significance for her. She could not have +told why she rejected the Murphy child's thoroughly grimed picture- +book, yet herself rolled happily about in a thin coating of mud and +dust, but she did both instinctively. + +Her attention was pleasantly distracted by subdued cries from the +street beyond the garden hedge. Three Italian women, all old, stood +there gesticulating freely and signalling to the children, and a small +ragged boy on crutches hovered nervously near them. Helen Adeline +jumped to her feet with a sudden exclamation. + +"It's the poor!" she said, excitedly. "For your money, Genevieve Maud. +I told them to come. Get the bank, Gracie, an' she mus' give it all +away!" + +Grace departed promptly on her errand, but there was some delay in +opening the bank when she returned--an interval filled pleasantly by +the visitors with interested scrutiny of the shameless Genevieve Maud, +whose airy unconsciousness of her unconventional appearance uniquely +attested her youth. When the money finally came, rolling out in +pennies, five-cent pieces, and rare dimes, the look of good-natured +wonder in the old black eyes peering wolfishly over the hedge changed +quickly to one of keen cupidity, but the children saw nothing of this. +Helen Adeline divided the money as evenly as she could into four +little heaps. + +"It's all she has," she explained, grandly, "so she's got to give it +all to you, 'cos riches is pomps an' ruins souls. Give it, Genevieve +Maud," she continued, magnanimously surrendering the centre of the +stage to the novice in the simple life. + +Genevieve Maud handed it over with a fat and dirty little paw, and the +women and the lame boy took it uncritically, with words of thanks and +even with friendly smiles. Strangely enough, there was no quarrelling +among themselves over the distribution of the spoils. For one golden +moment they were touched and softened by the gift of the baby hand +that gave its all so generously. Then the wisdom of a speedy +disappearance struck them and they faded away, leaving the quiet +street again deserted. Helen Adeline drew a long breath as the bright +gleam of their kerchiefs disappeared around a corner. + +"That's nice," she exclaimed, contentedly. "Now what else can we make +her do?" + +The two pair of eyes rested meditatively on the unconscious little +sister, again lost to her surroundings in the construction of her +twenty-third mud pie. Not even the surrender of her fortune beguiled +her from this unleavened joy of the simple life. "We've made her do +'mos' everything, I guess," admitted Grace Margaret, with evident +reluctance. It appeared so, indeed. Stripped of her clothing, her +money and her toys, it would seem that little in the way of earthly +possessions was left to Genevieve Maud; but even as they looked again, +Grace Margaret had another inspiration. + +"Don't they work when they have simple lives?" she asked, abruptly. +"'Course they work." + +"Then let's have Genevieve Maud do our work." + +There was silence for a moment--silence filled with the soul- +satisfying enjoyment of a noble conception. + +"Grace Margaret Davenport," said Helen, solemnly, "you're a smart +girl!" She exhaled a happy sigh, and added: "'Course we'll let her! +She mus' work. She can water the geraniums for you an' the pansies for +me, an' gather up the croquet things for me an' take them in, an' fill +Rover's water-basin, an' get seed for the birds, an' pick up all the +paper an' leaves on the lawn." + +It is to be deplored that the active and even strenuous life thus +outlined did not for the moment appeal to Genevieve Maud when they +brought its attractions to her attention. The afternoon was fading, +and Genevieve Maud was beginning to fade, too; her little feet were +tired, and her fat legs seemed to curve more in her weariness of well- +doing; but the awful threat of being left out of the game still held, +and she struggled bravely with her task, while the two arch- +conspirators reposed languidly and surveyed her efforts from beneath +the willow-tree. + +"It'll be her bedtime pretty soon," suggested Helen Adeline, the +suspicion of a guilty conscience lurking in the remark. "She can have +her bread and milk like she always does--that's simple 'nuff. But do +you think she ought to sleep in that handsome brass crib?" + +Grace Margaret did not think so, but she was sadly puzzled to find a +substitute. + +"Mamma won't let her sleep anywhere else, either," she pointed out. + +"Mamma won't know." + +"Annie or Katie will know--p'r'aps." + +The "p'r'aps" was tentative. Annie and Katie had taken full advantage +of the liberty attending the illness of their mistress, and their +policy with the children was one of masterly inactivity. So long as +the little girls were quiet they were presumably good, and hence, to a +surety, undisturbed. Still, it is hardly possible that even their +carelessness would fail to take account of Genevieve Maud's unoccupied +bed, if unoccupied it proved to be. + +"An' cert'inly papa will know." + +Helen Adeline's last hope died with this sudden reminder. She sighed. +Of course papa would come to kiss his chicks good-night, but that was +hours hence. Much could be done in those hours. Her problem was +suddenly simplified, for even as she bent her brows and pondered, +Grace Margaret called her attention to an alluring picture behind her. +Under the shelter of a blossoming white hydrangea lay Genevieve Maud +fast asleep. It was a dirty and an exhausted Genevieve Maud, worn with +the heat and toil of the day, scratched by bush and brier, but +wonderfully appealing in her helplessness--so appealing, that Helen +Adeline's heart yearned over her. She conquered the momentary +weakness. + +"_I_ think," she suggested, casually, "she ought to sleep in the +barn." + +Grace Margaret gasped. + +"It ain't a simple life sleepin' in lovely gardens," continued the +authority, with simple but thrilling conviction. "An'--wasn't the +Infant Jesus born in barns?" + +Grace Margaret essayed a faint protest. + +"Papa won't like it," she began, feebly. + +"He won't know. 'Course we won't let her _stay_ there! But just a +little while, to make it finish right--the way it ought to be." + +The holding up of such lofty ideals of consistency conquered Grace +Margaret--so thoroughly, in fact, that she helped to carry the +sleeping Genevieve Maud not only to the barn, but even, in a glorious +inspiration, to Rover's kennel--a roomy habitation and beautifully +clean. The pair deposited the still sleeping innocent there and +stepped back to survey the effect. Helen Adeline drew a long breath of +satisfaction. "Well," she said, with the content of an artist +surveying the perfect work, "if that ain't simple lives, I don't know +what is!" + +They stole out of the place and into the house. The shadows lengthened +on the floor of the big barn, and the voices of the children in the +street beyond grew fainter and finally died away. + +Lights began to twinkle in neighboring windows. Rover, returning from +his friendly visit, sought his home, approached its entrance +confidently, and retreated with a low growl. The baby slept on, and +the dog, finally recognizing his playmate, stretched himself before +the entrance of his kennel and loyally mounted guard, with a puzzled +look in his faithful brown eyes. The older children, lost in agreeable +conversation and the attractions of baked apples and milk toast, +wholly forgot Genevieve Maud and the flying hours. + +It was almost dark when their father came home and, after a visit to +the bedside of his wife, looked to the welfare of his children. The +expression on the faces of the two older ones as they suddenly grasped +the fact of his presence explained in part the absence of the third. +Mr. Davenport had enjoyed the advantages of eleven years of daily +association with his daughter Helen Adeline. + +"Where is she?" he asked, briefly, with a slight prickling of the +scalp. + +In solemn procession, in their night-gowns, they led him to her side; +and the peace of the perfumed night as they passed through the garden +was broken with explanations and mutual recriminations and expressions +of unavailing regret. Rover rose as they approached and looked up into +his master's eyes, wagging his tail in eager welcome. + +"Here she is," he seemed to say. "It's all right. _I_ looked after +her." + +The father's eyes grew dim as he patted the dog's fine head and lifted +the naked body of his youngest daughter in his arms. Her little body +was cold, and she shivered as she awoke and looked at him. Then she +gazed down into the conscience-stricken faces of her sisters and +memory returned. It drew from her one of her rare spontaneous remarks. + +"Don't yike simple yives," announced Genevieve Maud, with considerable +firmness. "Don't yant to play any more." + +"You shall not, my babykins," promised her father, huskily. "No more +simple life for Genevieve Maud, you may be sure." + +Later, after the hot bath and the supper which both her father and the +trained nurse had supervised, Genevieve Maud was tucked cozily away in +the little brass crib which had earlier drawn out the stern +disapproval of her sisters. Her round face shone with cold cream. A +silver mug, full of milk, stood beside her crib, on her suggestion +that she might become "firsty" during the night. Finding the occasion +one of unlimited indulgence and concession, she had demanded and +secured the privilege of wearing her best night-gown--one resplendent +with a large pink bow. In her hand she clasped a fat cookie. + +Helen Adeline and Grace Margaret surveyed this sybaritic scene from +the outer darkness of the hall. + +"Look at her poor, perishin' body full of comforts," sighed Helen +Adeline, dismally. Then, with concentrated bitterness, "I s'pose we'll +never dare to even _think_ 'bout her soul again!" + + + + +V + +HIS BOY + + +Captain Arthur Hamilton, of the ----th Infantry, moved on his narrow +cot, groaned partly from irritation and partly from pain, muttered a +few inaudible words, and looked with strong disapproval toward the +opening of the hospital tent in which he lay. Through it came the soft +breezes of the Cuban night, a glimpse of brilliantly starred horizon- +line, and the cheerful voice of Private Kelly, raised in song. The +words came distinctly to the helpless officer's reluctant ears. + +"'Oh, Liza, de-ar Liza,'" carolled Kelly, in buoyant response to the +beauty of the evening. + +Captain Hamilton muttered again as he suppressed a seductive desire to +throw something at the Irishman's head, silhouetted against the sky as +he limped past the entrance. Six weeks had elapsed since the battle of +San Juan, in which Hamilton and Kelly had been among the many +grievously hurt. Kelly, witness this needless service of song, was +already convalescent. He could wander from tent to tent in well- +meaning but futile efforts to cheer less fortunate mates. Baker was +around again, too, Hamilton remembered, and Barnard and Hallenbeck and +Lee, and--oh, hosts of others. He ran over their names as he had done +countless times before in the long days and nights which had passed +since he had been "out of it all," as he put it to himself. He alone, +of his fellow officers in the regiment, still lay chained to his +wretched cot, a very log of helplessness, in which a fiery spirit +flamed and consumed. His was not a nature that took gracefully to +inactivity; and of late it had been borne in upon him with a cold, +sickening sense of fear, new, like his helplessness, that inactivity +must be his portion for a long, long time to come. At first the +thought had touched his consciousness only at wide intervals, but now +it was becoming a constant, lurking horror, always with him, or just +within reach, ready to spring. + +He was "out of it all," not for weeks or even for months, but very +possibly for all time. The doctor's reticence told him this; so did +his own sick heart; so did the dutiful cheerfulness of his men and his +brother officers. They overdid it, he realized, and the efforts they +so conscientiously made showed how deep their sympathy must be, and +how tragic the cause of it. His lips twisted sardonically as he +remembered their optimistic predictions of his immediate recovery and +the tributes they paid to his courage in the field. It was true he had +distinguished himself in action (by chance, he assured himself and +them), and he had figured as a hero in the subsequent reports of the +battle. But the other fellows would hardly have bothered to have a +trifle like that mentioned, he told himself, if the little glowing +badge of fame he carried off the field had not been now his sole +possession. He had given more than his life for it. He had sacrificed +his career, his place in the active ranks, his perfect, athletic body. +His life would have been a simple gift in comparison. Why couldn't it +have been taken? he wondered for the hundredth time. Why could not he, +like others, have died gloriously and been laid away with the flag +wrapped round him? But that, he reflected, bitterly, would have been +too much luck. Instead, he must drag on and on and on, of no use to +himself or to any one else. + +Again and again he contemplated the dreary outlook, checking off +mentally the details of the past, the depressing experiences to come, +the hopelessness of it all; and as his mind swung wearily round the +small circle he despised himself for the futility of the whole mental +process, and for his inability to fix his thoughts on things other +than his own misfortune. A man paralyzed; a thing dead from the waist +down--that was what he had become. He groaned again as the realization +gnawed at his soul, and at the sound a white-capped nurse rose from a +table where she had been sitting and came to his bedside with a smile +of professional cheerfulness. She had a tired, worn face, and faded +blue eyes, which looked as if they had seen too much of human +suffering. But an indomitable spirit gazed out of them, and spoke, +too, in her alert step and in the fine poise of her head and +shoulders. + +"Your mail has come," she told him, "and there seem to be some nice +letters--fat ones. One, from Russia, has a gold crown on the envelope. +Perhaps I had better leave you alone while you read it." + +Hamilton smiled grimly as he held out a languid hand. He liked Miss +Foster. She was a good sort, and she had stood by the boys nobly +through the awful days after the fight. He liked her humor, too, +though he sometimes had suspicions as to its spontaneity. Then his eye +fell on the top envelope of the little package she had given him, and +at the sight of the handwriting he caught his breath, and the blood +rushed suddenly to his face. He closed his eyes for a moment in an +effort to pull himself together. Did he still care, after ten years, +and like that! But possibly, very probably, it was merely a +manifestation of his wretched weakness, which could not endure even a +pleasant surprise without these absurd physical effects. He +remembered, with a more cheerful grin, that he had hardly thought of +her at all during the past year. Preparations for war and his small +part in them had absorbed him heart and soul. He opened the letter +without further self-analysis, and read with deepening interest the +closely written lines on the thin foreign paper, whose left-hand +corner held a duplicate of the gold crown on the envelope. + +"DEAR OLD FRIEND,--You have forgotten me, no doubt, in all these +years. Ten, is it not? But I have not forgotten you, nor my other +friends in America, exile though I am and oblivious though I may have +seemed. I do not know quite why I have not come home for a visit long +before this. Indeed, I have planned to do so from year to year, but a +full life and many varied interests have deferred the journey one way +or another. I have three boys--nine, seven, and five--and it would be +difficult to bring them with me and impossible to leave them behind. +So, you see-- + +"But my heart often longs for my native land, and in one tower of this +old castle I have a great room full of souvenirs of home. It is the +spot I love best in my new country. Here I read my mail and write my +letters and follow American news in the newspapers friends send me. +Here, with my boys tumbling over each other before the fireplace, I +read of the ascent of San Juan Hill, and of you, my friend, and your +splendid courage, and your injury. + +"No doubt by the time this letter reaches you you will be well again, +and in no need of my sympathy. But you will let me tell you how proud +of you I am. + +"I read the newspaper accounts to my boys, who were greatly interested +and impressed when they learned that mamma knew the hero. I was much +amused by the youngest, Charlie--too small, I thought, to understand +it all. But he stood before me with his hands on my knees and his big +brown eyes on my face; and when I finished reading he asked many +questions about the war and about you. He is the most American of my +children, and loves to hear of his mother's country. After the others +had gone he cuddled down in my lap and demanded the 'story' repeated +in full; and when I described again the magnificent way in which you +saved your men, he said, firmly, 'I am _his_ boy.' + +"I thought you might be interested in this unsought, spontaneous +tribute, and my purpose in writing is to pass it on to you--though I +admit it has taken me a long time to get 'round to it! + +"You will forgive this rambling letter, and you will believe me, now +as ever, + +"Sincerely your friend, + +"MARGARET CHALLONER VALDRONOVNA." + +Hamilton slowly refolded the letter and returned it to its envelope, +letting the solace of its sweet friendliness sink into his sore heart +the while. She had not wholly forgotten him, then, this beautiful +woman he had loved and who had given him a gracious and charming +_camaraderie_ in return for the devotion of his life. He had not been +senseless enough to misconstrue her feeling, so he had never spoken; +and she, after two brilliant Washington seasons, had married a great +Russian noble and sailed away without suspecting, he felt sure, what +she was to him. He had recovered, as men do, but he had not loved +again, nor had he married. He wondered if she knew. Very probably; for +the newspapers which devoted so much space to his achievements had +added detailed biographical sketches, over which he had winced from +instinctive distaste of such intimate discussion of his personal +affairs. The earlier reports (evidently the ones she had read) had +published misleading accounts of his injuries. They were serious, but +not dangerous, according to these authorities. It was only recently +that rumors of his true condition had begun to creep into print. The +Princess had not read these. Hamilton was glad of that. + +He recalled dreamily the different passages of her letter, the +remainder of his mail lying neglected on his bed. That boy--her boy-- +_his_ boy. He smiled to himself, at first with amusement, then with a +sudden tenderness that pleasantly softened his stern lips. He was weak +enough, frightened enough, lonely enough, to grasp with an actual +pitiful throb of the heart this tiny hand stretched out to him across +the sea. He liked that boy--_his_ boy. He must be a fine fellow. He +wondered idly how he looked. "Three boys--nine, seven, five"--yes, +Charlie was five and had great brown eyes. Like his mother's, the +stricken man remembered. She had brown eyes--and such brown eyes. Such +kind, friendly, womanly brown eyes--true mirrors of the strong soul +that looked from them. Something hot and wet stung the surface of +Hamilton's cheek. He touched it unsuspectingly, and then swore alone +in deep, frank self-disgust. + +"Well, of all the sentimental idiots!" he muttered. "My nerves are in +a nice way, when I bawl like a baby because some one sends me a +friendly letter. Guess I'll answer it." + +Miss Foster brought him pen, ink, and paper, and he began, writing +with some difficulty, as he lay flat on his back. + +"MY DEAR PRINCESS,--Your letter has just reached me, and you cannot, I +am sure, imagine the cheer and comfort it brought. I am still +lingering unwillingly on the sick-list, but there is some talk now of +shipping me north on the _Relief_ next week, when I hope to give a +better account of myself. In the mean time, and after, I shall think +much of you and the boys, especially of the youngest and his +flattering adoption of me. I am already insufferably proud of that, +and rather sentimental as well, as you will see by the fact that I +want his photograph! Will you send it to me, in care of the Morton +Trust Company, New York? I do not yet know just where I shall be. + +"There is a pleasant revelation of well-being and happiness between +the lines of your letter. Believe me, I rejoice in both. + +"Faithfully yours, + +"ARTHUR HAMILTON." + +As he read it over the letter seemed curt and unsatisfactory, but he +was already exhausted and had not the strength to make another effort. +So he wearily sealed and addressed it, and gave it to Miss Foster for +the next mail. Her tired eyes widened a little as she artlessly read +the inscription. + +During the seemingly endless days and nights that followed, Hamilton +battled manfully but despairingly with his sick soul. Wherever he +looked there was blackness, lightened once or twice, and for an +instant only, by a sudden passing memory of a little child. It would +be too much to say that the memory comforted him. Nothing could do +that, yet. All he dared hope for was for the strength to go through +his ordeal with something approaching manliness and dignity. The +visits of his friends were a strain to him, as well as to them, and it +was sadly easy to see how the sense of his hopeless case depressed +them. He could imagine the long breath they drew as they left his tent +and found themselves again in the rich, warm, healthy world. He did +not blame them. In their places, he would no doubt have felt just the +same. But he was inevitably driven more and more into himself, and in +his dogged efforts to get away from self-centred thought he turned +with a sturdy determination to fancies about remote things, and +especially to imaginings of the boy--the little fellow who loved him, +and who, thank God, was not as yet "sorry for him!" Oddly enough, the +mother seemed to have taken her place in the background of Hamilton's +thoughts. It was her son who appealed to him--the innocent man-child, +half American, half Russian, entering so happily and unconsciously on +the enhanced uncertainties of life in the tragic land of his birth. + +During the trying, stormy voyage north on the great hospital ship, +Hamilton had strange, half-waking visions of a curly headed lad with +brown eyes, tumbling over a bear-skin rug in front of a great +fireplace, or standing at his mother's knee looking into her face as +she talked of America and of an American soldier. He began to fancy +that the vision held at bay the other crowding horrors which lay in +wait. If he could keep his mind on that he was safe. He was glad the +mother and son could not, in their turn, picture him--as he was. + +When the photographs arrived, soon after he reached New York, the +helpless officer opened the bulky package with eager ringers. There +were two "cabinets," both of the child. One showed him at the tender +age of two, a plump, dimpled, beautiful baby, airily clad in an +embroidered towel. The second was apparently quite recent. A five- +year-old boy, in black velvet and a bewildering expanse of lace +collar, looked straight out of the picture with tragic dark eyes, +whose direct glance was so like his mother's that ten years seemed +suddenly obliterated as Hamilton returned their gaze. With these was a +little letter on a child's note-paper, in printed characters which +reeled drunkenly down the page from left to right. Hamilton read it +with a chuckle. + +"DEAR CAPTAIN HAMILTON,--I love you very much. I love you becos you +fought in the war. I have your picture. I have put a candle befront of +your picture. The candle is burning. I love you very much. Your boy, + +"CHARLIE." + +Accompanying this epistolary masterpiece was a brief note from the +writer's mother, explaining that the "picture" of Captain Hamilton, of +whose possession her infant boasted, had been cut from an illustrated +newspaper and pasted on stiff card-board in gratification of the +child's whim. + +"He insists on burning a candle before it," she wrote, "evidently from +some dim association with tapers and altars and the rest. As it is all +a new manifestation of his character, we are indulging him freely. +Certainly it can do him no harm to love and admire a brave man. +Besides, to have a candle burned for you! Is not that a new flutter of +glory?" + +Hamilton, still in the grasp of a dumb depression he would voice to no +one, was a little amused and more touched. In his hideous loneliness +and terror the pretty incident, one he would have smiled at and +forgotten a year ago, took on an interest out of all proportion to its +importance. He felt a sudden, unaccountable sense of pleasant +companionship. The child became a loved personality--the one human, +close, vital thing in a world over which there seemed to hang a thick +black fog through which Hamilton vaguely, wretchedly groped. He +himself did not know why the child interested him so keenly, nor did +he try to analyze the fact. He was merely grateful for it, and for the +other fact that he cherished no sentimental feeling for the boy's +mother. That had passed out of his life as everything else had +seemingly passed which belonged to the old order of things. He had +always been a calm, reserved, self-absorbed, unemotional type of man, +glorying a little, perhaps, in his lack of dependence on human kind. +In his need he had turned to his fellows and turned in vain. Now that +a precious thing had come to him unsought, he did not intend to lose +it. + +Through his physicians he pulled various journalistic wires, resulting +in the suppression, in the newspapers, of the hopeless facts of his +case. He did not intend, he decided, to have his boy think of him as +tied to an invalid's couch. Then, knowing something of human nature, +and of the evanescent character of childish fancies, he ordered +shipped to Russia a variety of American mechanical toys, calculated to +swell the proud bosom of the small boy who received them. This +shameless bid for continued favor met with immediate success. An +ecstatic, incoherent little shriek of delight came from the land of +the czar in the form of another letter; and the candle, which quite +possibly would have burned low or even gone out, blazed up cheerily +again. + +That was the beginning of an intercourse which interested and diverted +Hamilton for months. He spared no pains to adapt his letters to the +interest and comprehension of his small correspondent, and he derived +a quite incredible amount of satisfaction from the childish scrawls +which came to him in reply. They were wholly babyish documents, about +the donkey, the nurse, the toys, and games of the small boy's daily +life. Usually they were written in his own printed letters. Sometimes +they were dictated to his mother, who faithfully reported every +weighty word that fell from the infant's lips. But always they were +full of the hero-worship of the little child for the big, strong, +American fighting-man; and in every letter, sometimes in the +beginning, sometimes at the end, occasionally in both places, as the +enthusiasm of the writer waxed, was the satisfying assurance, "_I am +your boy._" Hamilton's eyes raced over the little pages till he found +that line, and there rested contentedly. + +As the months passed, the healing influence of time wrought its +effects. Hamilton, shut in though he was, adapted himself to the +narrow world of an invalid's room and its few interests. With the +wealth he had fortunately inherited he brought to his side leading +specialists who might possibly help him, and went through alternate +ecstatic hopes and abysmal fears as the great men came and departed. +Very quietly, too, he helped others less fortunate, financially, than +himself. The nurses and physicians in the hospital where he lay +learned to like and admire him, and other patients, convalescents or +newcomers who were able to move about, sought his cheerful rooms and +brought into them a whiff of the outside world. Through it all, +winding in and out of the neutral-colored weeks like a scarlet thread +of life and hope, came the childish letters from Russia, and each week +a thick letter went back, artfully designed to keep alive the love and +interest of an imaginative little boy. + +At the end of six months young Charles fell from his donkey and broke +his left arm, but this trivial incident was not allowed to interfere +with the gratifying regularity with which his letters arrived. It was, +however, interesting, as throwing a high light on the place his +American hero held in the child's fancy. His mother touched on this in +her letter describing the accident. + +"The arm had to be set at once," she wrote, "and of course it was very +painful. But I told Charlie you would be greatly disappointed if your +boy were not brave and did not obey the doctor. He saw the force of +this immediately, and did not shed a tear, though his dear little face +was white and drawn with pain." + +Master Charlie himself discussed the same pleasant incident in the +first letter he dictated after the episode. + +"I did not cry," he mentioned, with natural satisfaction. "Mamma +cried, and Sonya cried. Men do not cry. Do they? You did not cry when +you were hurt, did you? I am going to be just like you." + +Hamilton laughed over the letter, his pale cheek flushing a little at +the same time. He _had_ cried, once or twice; he recalled it now with +shame. He must try to do better, remembering that he loomed large as a +heroic model for the young. + +He was still reading the little letter when Dr. Van Buren, his +classmate at the Point, his one intimate since then, and his physician +now, entered the room, greeted him curtly, and stood at the window for +a moment, drumming his fingers fiercely against the pane. Hamilton +knew the symptoms; Van Buren was nervous and worried about something. +He dropped the small envelope into his lap and looked up. + +"Well?" he said, tersely. + +Van Buren did not answer for a moment. Then he turned, crossed the +room abruptly, and sat down near the reclining-chair in which the +officer spent his days. The physician's face was strained and pale. +His glance, usually direct, shifted and fell under his friend's +inquiring gaze. + +"Well?" repeated the latter, compellingly. "I suppose you fellows have +been talking me over again. What's the outcome?" + +Van Buren cleared his throat. + +"Yes, we--we have, old man," he began, rather huskily--"in there, you +know." He indicated the direction of the consulting-room as he spoke. +"We don't like the recent symptoms." + +Unconsciously, Hamilton straightened his shoulders. + +"Out with it. Don't mince matters, Frank. Do you think life is so +precious a thing to me that I can't part with it if I've got to?" + +Van Buren writhed in his chair. + +"It isn't that," he said, "life or death. It's wor--I mean, it's +different. It's--it's these." He laid his hand on the officer's +helpless legs, stretched out stiffly under a gay red afghan. "God!" he +broke out, suddenly, "I don't know how you'll take it, old chap; and +there's no sense in trying to break a thing like this gently. We're +afraid--we think--they'll--have to come off!" + +Under the shock of it Hamilton set his teeth. + +"Why?" he asked, quietly. + +"Because--well, because they're no good. They're dead. They're a +constant menace to you. A scratch or injury of any kind--they've got +to go--that's all, Arthur. But we've been talking it over and we can +fix you up so you can get about and be much better off than you are +now." He leaned forward as he spoke, and his words came quickly and +eagerly. The worst was over; he was ready to picture the other side. +Hamilton stopped him with a gesture. + +"Suppose I decline to let them go?" he asked, grimly. + +Van Buren stared at him. + +"You can't!" he stammered. + +"Why not?" + +"Because--why, because your life depends on their coming off!" + +Hamilton's lips set. + +"My _life!_" he repeated. "My precious, glad, young life! So full of +happiness! So useful!" He dropped the savagely bitter tone suddenly. +"No, Frank," he said, quietly, "I won't go through life as the half of +a man. I'll let the thing take its course; or if that will be too slow +and too--horrible, I'll help the hobbling beast on its way. I think +I'd be justified. It's too much to ask--you know it--to be hoisted +through life as a remnant." + +Van Buren rose, moved his chair nearer to Hamilton's, and sat down +close to his friend's side. All nervousness had left him. He was again +cool, scientific, professional; but with it all there was the deep +sympathy and understanding of a friend. + +"No, you won't," he said, firmly; "you won't do anything of the kind, +and I'll tell you why you won't. Because it isn't in your make-up to +play the coward. That's why. You've got to go through with it and take +what comes, and do it all like the strong chap you are. If you think +there won't be anything left in life, you are mistaken. You can be of +a lot of use; you can do a lot of good. You will have time and +inclination and money. You will be able to get around, not as quickly, +but as surely. With a good man-servant you'll be entirely independent +of drafts on charity or pity. Money has some beautiful uses. If you +were a poor devil who hadn't a cent in the world and would be +dependent on the grudging service of others, I should wish you to +accept and bear, perhaps, but I could not urge you to. Now, your life +is helpful to others. You can give and aid and bless. You can be a +greater hero than the man who went up San Juan Hill, and there are +those who will feel it." + +"That is, my money is needed, and because I've got it I should drag +out years of misery while I spread little financial poultices on other +people's ills," returned Hamilton. "No, thanks; it's not enough good. +They can have the money just the same. That can be amputated with +profit to all concerned. I'll leave it to hospitals and homes for the +helpless, especially for fractional humanity--needy remnants. But I +decline absolutely, once and for all, to accept the noble future you +have outlined. I grant you it would be heroic. But have you ever heard +of great heroism with no stimulus to arouse it?" + +He raised his hand as he spoke, and brought it down with a gesture of +finality. As it fell, it dropped on the little letter. Mechanically, +his fingers closed on it. + +His boy! His brave little boy who had not flinched or cried, because +he meant to be just like Captain Hamilton. What would _he_ think when +the truth came to him years hence, as it must do. What would she think +now, the mother who was glad that her son should "love and admire a +brave man"? The small missive was a stimulus. + +Hamilton turned to Van Buren again, checking with a little shake of +the head the impetuous speech that rushed to that gentleman's lips. + +"Just wait one moment," he said, thoughtfully. He leaned back and shut +his eyes, and as he did so the familiar scene of months past came +suddenly before them--the quaint old foreign room, the great fireplace +with its blazing logs, the mother, the curly haired boy. His life had +been a lonely one, always, Hamilton reflected. Few, pathetically few, +so far as he knew, would be affected by its continuance or its end. +But the _manner_ of its end--that was a different matter. That might +touch individuals far and wide by its tragic example to other +desperate souls. Still, he was not their keeper. As for Charlie-- + +Ah, _Charlie!_ Charlie, with his childish but utter hero-worship; +Charlie, with his lighted candle; Charlie, with his small-boy love and +trust--Charlie would be told some little story and Charlie would soon +forget. But--what would Charlie think of him some day when the truth +was out--Charlie who at five could set his teeth and bear pain +stoically because his hero did! Because he was "His Boy!" Hamilton's +mind returned to that problem again and again and lingered there. No, +he could not disappoint Charlie. Besides, Van Buren was right. There +was work, creditable work to do. And to be plucky, even if only to +keep a brave little chap's ideal intact, to maintain its helpful +activity, was something worthy of a stanch man. Would he wish his boy +to go under when the strain against the right thing was crushing? + +He laid the letter down gently, deliberately, turned to his friend, +and smiled as Van Buren had not seen him smile since their ingenuous +boyhood days. There was that sweetness in the smile which homage to +woman makes us dub "feminine," and something of it, too, in the way he +laid his hand on his chum's shoulder. + +"All right, old sawbones," he said, slowly. "You may do whatever has +to be done. I'll face the music. Unbuilding one man may build up +another." + + + + +VI + +THE COMMUNITY'S SUNBEAM + + +Miss Clarkson looked at the small boy, and the small boy looked back +at Miss Clarkson with round, unwinking eyes. In the woman's glance +were sympathy and a puzzled wonder; the child's gaze expressed only a +calm and complete detachment. Subtly, but unmistakably, he succeeded +in conveying the impression that he regarded this human object before +him because it was in his line of vision, but that he found no +interest in it, nor good reason for assuming an interest he did not +feel: that if, indeed, he was conscious of any emotion at all, it was +in the nature of a vaguely dawning desire that the object should +remove itself, should cease to shut off the view from the one window +of the tenement room that was his home. But it really did not matter +much. Already, in his seven years of life, the small boy had decided +that nothing really mattered much, and his dark, grim little face, +with its deep-cut, unchildish lines, bore witness to the unwavering +strength of this conviction. If the object preferred to stay--He +settled himself more firmly on the rickety chair he occupied, crossed +his feet with infinite care, and continued to regard the object with +eyes that held the invariable expression with which they met the +incidents of life, whether these incidents were the receiving of a +banana from Miss Clarkson's hands, or, as had happened half an hour +before, the spectacle of his dead mother being carried down-stairs. + +It was not a stupid look; it was at once intent, unsympathetic, +impersonal. Under it, now, its object experienced a moment of actual +embarrassment. Miss Clarkson was not accustomed to the indifferent +gaze of human eyes, and in her philanthropic work among the tenements +she had been somewhat conspicuously successful with children. They +seemed always to like her, to accept her; and if her undoubted charm +of face, of dress, and of smile failed to win them, Miss Clarkson was +not above resorting to the aid of little gifts, of toys, even to the +pernicious power of pennies. She did good, but she did it in her own +way. She was young, she was rich, she was independent. She helped the +poor because she pitied them, and wished to aid them, but her methods +were unique, and were followed none the less serenely when, as +frequently happened, they conflicted with all the accepted notions of +organized philanthropy. + +She had come to this room almost daily, Miss Clarkson remembered, +since she had discovered the destitute Russian woman and her child +there a month ago. The mother was dying of consumption; the child was +neglected and hungry--yet both had an unmistakable air of birth, of +breeding; and the mother's French was as perfect as the exquisitely +finished manner that drew from Anne Clarkson, in the wretched tenement +room, her utmost deference and courtesy. The child, too, had glints of +polish. Punctiliously he opened doors, placed chairs, bowed; +punctiliously he stood when the lady stood, sat when the lady sat, met +her requests for small services with composure and appreciation. And +(here was the rub) each time she came, bringing in her generous wake +the comforts that lightened his mother's dreary journey into another +world, he received her with the air of one courteously greeting a +stranger, or, at best, of one seeking an elusive memory as one surveys +a half-familiar face. + +Doggedly Anne Clarkson had persisted in her attentions to them both. +The mother was grateful--there was no doubt of that. Under the +ministrations of the nurse Miss Clarkson supplied, under the influence +of food, of medicines, and of care, she brightened out of the apathy +in which her new friend had found her. But to the last she retained +something of her son's unresponsiveness, and an uncommunicativeness +which tagged his as hereditary. She never spoke of herself, of her +friends, or of her home. She made no last requests, left no last +messages. Once, as she looked at her boy, her eyeballs exuded a film +of moisture. Miss Clarkson interpreted this phenomenon rightly, and +quietly said: + +"I will see that he is well cared for." The sick woman gave her a long +look, and then nodded. + +"You will," she answered. "You are not of those who promise and do not +perform. You are very good--you have been very good to us. Your reward +should come. It does not always come to those who are good, but it +should come to you. You should marry and have children, and leave this +terrible country, and be happy." + +The words impressed Miss Clarkson, because, as she reminded herself +now, they were almost the last her protegee uttered. She considered +them excessively unmodern, and strongly out of place on the lips of +one whose romance had ended in disillusionment. + +Well, it was over. The mother was gone. But the child remained, and +his future--his immediate future, at least--must be decided here and +now. With a restless movement Anne Clarkson leaned toward him. In her +abstraction she had shifted her glance from him for a few moments, and +he had taken advantage of the interval to survey dispassionately the +toes of the new shoes she had given to him. He glanced up now, and met +her look with the singular unresponsiveness which seemed his note. + +"We're going away, Ivan," she said, speaking with that artificial +cheerfulness practised so universally upon the helpless and the young. +"Mother has gone, you know, and we can't stay here any more. We're +going to the country, to a beautiful place where there are flowers, +and birds, and dogs, and other little boys and girls. So get your cap, +dear." + +Ivan looked unimpressed, but he rose with instant obedience and +crossed the room to its solitary closet. His little figure looked very +trim in the new suit she had bought for him; she noticed how well he +carried himself. His preparations for departure were humorously +simple. He took his cap from its peg, put it on his head, and opened +the door for her to precede him in the utter abandonment of his +"home." Earlier in the day Miss Clarkson had presented to pleased +neighbors the furniture and clothing of the dead woman, taking the +precaution to have it fumigated in an empty room in the building. On +the same impulse she had given to an old bedridden Irishwoman a few +little articles that had soothed the Russian's last days: a small +night-lamp, a bed-tray, and the like. Ivan's outfit, consisting solely +of the things she herself had given him, had been packed in his +mother's one small foreign trunk, whose contents until then, Miss +Clarkson, observed, was an ikon, quaintly framed. Of letters, of +souvenirs, of any clue of any kind to the identity of mother and son, +there was none. She felt sure that the names they had given her were +assumed. + +Stiffly erect, Ivan waited beside the open door. Miss Clarkson gave a +methodical last look around the dismantled room, and walked out of it, +the child following. At the top of the stairs she turned her head +sharply, a sudden curiosity uppermost in her mind. Was he glancing +back? she wondered. Was he showing any emotion? Did he feel any? He +seemed so horribly mature--he _must_ understand something of what this +departure meant. Did he, by chance, need comforting? But Ivan was +close by her side, his sombre black eyes looking straight before him, +his new shoes creaking freshly as he descended the rickety steps. Miss +Clarkson sighed. If only he were pretty, she reflected. There were +always sentimental women ready and willing to adopt a handsome child. +But even Ivan's mother would have declared him not pretty. He was +merely small, and dark, and foreign, and reserved, and horribly self- +contained. His black hair was perfectly straight, his lips made a +straight line in his face. He had no dimples, no curls, none of the +appealing graces and charms of childhood. He was seven--seven decades, +she almost thought, with a sudden throb of pity for him. But he had +one quality of childhood--helplessness. To that, at least, the +Community to which she had finally decided to intrust him would surely +respond. She took his small hand in hers as they reached the street, +and after an instinctive movement of withdrawal, like the startled +fluttering of a bird, he suffered it to remain there. Together they +walked to the nearest corner, and stood awaiting the coming of a +trolley-car, the heat of an August sun blazing upon them, the stifling +odors of the tenement quarter filling their nostrils. Rude, half-naked +little boys jeered at them, and made invidious remarks about Ivan's +new clothes; a small girl smiled shyly at him; a wretched yellow dog +snapped at his heels. To these varying attentions the child gave the +same quietly observant glance, a glance without rancor as without +interest. Miss Clarkson experienced a sense of utter helplessness as +she watched him. + +"Did you know the little girl, Ivan?" she asked, in English. + +"Yes, madam." + +"Do you like her?" + +"No, madam." + +"Why not? She seemed a nice little girl." + +There was no response. She tried again. + +"Are you tired, dear?" + +"No, madam." + +"Are you glad you are going into the country and away from the hot, +dirty city?" + +"No, madam." + +"Would you rather stay here?" + +"No, madam." + +The quality of the negative was the same in all. + +Miss Clarkson gave him up. When they entered the car she sank into a +depressed silence, which endured until they reached the Grand Central +Station. There, after she had sent off several telegrams and bought +their tickets, and established herself and her charge comfortably side +by side on the end seat in a drawing-room car, she again essayed +sprightly conversation adapted to the understanding of the young. + +"Do you know the country, Ivan?" she asked, ingratiatingly. "Have you +ever been there to see the grass and the cows and the blue skies?" + +"No, madam." + +"You will like them very much. All little boys and girls like the +country, and are very happy there." + +"Yes, madam." + +"Do you like to play?" + +"No, madam." + +"Do you like to--to--look at picture-books?" + +"No, madam." + +"What do you like to do?" + +There was no reply. Miss Clarkson groaned inwardly. Was he only a +little monosyllabic machine? The infant regarded with calm eyes the +sweep of the New York landscape across which the train was passing. +His patron opened the new novel with which she had happily provided +herself, plunged into its pages, and let herself rest by forgetting +him for a while. He sat by her side motionless, observant, continuing +to exude infinite patience. + +"He ought to be planted on the Egyptian sands," reflected Miss +Clarkson once, as she glanced at him. "He'd make a dear little brother +to the Sphinx." She stopped a train-boy passing through the car and +bought him a small box of chocolates, which he ate uninterruptedly, +somewhat as the tiny hand of a clock marks the seconds. Later she +presented him with a copy of a picture-paper. He surveyed its +illustrations with studious intentness for five minutes, and then laid +the paper on the seat beside him. Miss Clarkson again fled to +sanctuary in her novel, wondering how long pure negation could enlist +interest. + +At the small station where they left the train the tension of the +situation was slightly lessened. A plump little woman, with a round +pink face, keen, very direct blue eyes, and live gray hair, deftly +tooled a fat pony up to the asphalt, and greeted them with cheerful +informality. + +"Get in," she said, briskly, after a brief handshake with Miss +Clarkson. "There's plenty of room in the phaeton. We pack five in +sometimes. I was sorely tempted to bring two of the children; they +begged to come to meet the new boy; but it seemed best not to rush him +in the beginning, don't you know, so I left Josephine squalling behind +the wood-pile, and Augustus Adolphus strangling manfully on a glass of +lemonade intended to comfort him." + +She laughed as she spoke, but her blue eyes surveyed the boy +appraisingly as she tucked him into the space between herself and Miss +Clarkson. He had stood cap in hand during the meeting between the +ladies; now he replaced his cap upon his head, fixed his black eyes on +the restless tail of the fat pony, and remained submerged under the +encroaching summer garments of both women. Mrs. Eltner, presiding +genius of the Lotus Brotherhood Colony, exchanged an eloquent glance +with Miss Clarkson as she started the pony along the winding ribbon of +the country road. The New-Yorker's heart lightened. She had infinite +faith in the plump, capable hands that held the reins; she believed +them equal to anything, even to the perplexing task of guiding the +infant career of Ivanovitch. Mrs. Eltner prattled on. + +"Well," she quoted, in answer to Miss Clarkson's question, "they are +so well that Fraulein von Hoffman is in despair over them. She has +some new theories she's anxious to try when they're ill, but +throughout the year she hasn't had one chance. Every blessed child is +flamboyantly robust. Goodness! Why shouldn't they be? In the sunshine +from eight in the morning until six at night. They have their lessons +in a little roofed summer-house in the open air, their meals in +another, and they almost sleep in the open air. There are ten of them +now--counting your boy"--she nodded toward the unconscious Ivan--"four +girls and six boys. None of the parents interferes with them. They +sleep in the dormitory with Fraulein, she teaches them a few hours a +day, and the rest of the time we leave them alone. Fraulein assures me +that the influence on their developing souls is wonderful." Mrs. +Eltner laughed comfortably. "It's all an experiment," she went on, +more seriously. "Who can tell how it will end? But one thing is +certain: we have taken these poor waifs from the New York streets, and +we have at least made them healthy and happy to begin with. The rest +must come later." + +"An achievement," agreed Miss Clarkson. "I hope you will be as +successful with my small charge. He is not healthy, and I doubt if he +has ever known a moment of happiness. Possibly he can never take it +in. I don't know--he puzzles me." + +Her friend nodded, and they drove on in silence. It was almost sunset +when the fat pony turned into an open gate leading to a big white +colonial house, whose wide verandas held hammocks, easy-chairs, and +one fat little girl asleep on a door-mat. On the sweeping lawn before +the house an old man lounged comfortably in a garden-chair, surveying +with quiet approval the efforts of a pretty girl in a wide sunbonnet +who was weeding a flower-bed near him. Through the open window of a +distant room came the sound of a piano. At the left of the house a +solitary peacock strutted, his spreading tail alive in the sun's last +rays. The effect of the place was deliriously "homey." With eyes +slightly distended, Ivan surveyed the monstrous fowl, turning his head +to follow its progress as the phaeton rolled around the drive and +stopped before the wide front door. The two women again exchanged +glances. + +"Absolutely the first evidence of human interest," remarked Miss +Clarkson, with hushed solemnity. The other smiled with quiet +confidence. "It will come," she predicted; "it will come all right. We +do wonders with them here." + +As they entered the wide hall a picturesque group disintegrated +suddenly. A slender German woman, tall, gray-haired, slightly bent, +detached herself from an encircling mass of childish hands and arms +and legs, gave a hurried greeting to Miss Clarkson, of whom she rather +disapproved, and turned eyes alight with interest on the new claimant +for her ministrations. Cap in hand, Ivan looked up at her. Mrs. Eltner +introduced them briefly. + +"Your new little boy, Fraulein," she said, "Ivan Ivanovitch. He speaks +English and French and Russian. He is going to love his new teacher +and his new little friends, and be very happy here." + +Fraulein von Hoffman bent down and kissed the chilling surface of +Ivan's pale cheek. + +"But yes," she cried, "of a certainty he shall be happy. We are all +happy here--all, all. He shall have his place, his lessons, his little +duties--but, ach, he is so young! He is the youngest of us. Still, he +must have his duty." She checked her rapid English for a courteous +explanation to Miss Clarkson. + +"Each has his duties," she told that lady, while the line of children +lent polite interest to her words, drinking them in, apparently, with +open mouths. "Each of us must be useful to the community in some way, +however small. That is our principle. Yes. Little Josephine waters +every day the flowers in the dining-room, and they bloom gratefully +for little Josephine--ach, how they bloom! Augustus Adolphus keeps the +wood-box filled. It is Henry's task to water the garden plants, and +Henry never forgets. So, too, it is with the others. But Ivan--Ivan is +very young. He is but seven, you say. Yes, yes, what shall one do at +seven?" + +Her rapid, broken English ceased again as she surveyed the child, her +blond brows knit in deep reflection. Then her thin face lit suddenly. + +"Ach," she cried, enthusiastically, "an inspiration I have! He is too +young to work as yet, this little Ivan, but he shall have his task, +like the rest. He shall be our little sunbeam. He shall laugh and play +and make us happy." + +With a common hysterical impulse Miss Clarkson and Mrs. Eltner turned +their heads to avoid each other's eyes, the former making a desperate +effort at self-control as she gazed severely through a window near +her. It was not funny, this thing, she reminded herself sternly; it +was too ghastly to be funny, but there was no question that the +selection of Ivan Ivanovitch as the joyous, all-pervasive sunbeam of +the community at Locust Hall was slightly incongruous. When she could +trust herself she glanced at him. He stood as he had stood before, his +small, old, unchildish face turned up to the German, his black eyes +fixed unwaveringly upon her gray ones. Under the glance Fraulein's +expression changed. For an instant there was a look of bewilderment on +her face, of a doubt of the wisdom of her choice of a mission for this +unusual new-comer, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come. With +recovered serenity she addressed him and those around him. + +"But he need not begin to-night," she added, kindly, "not when he is +tired. He shall eat, he shall rest, he shall sleep. Then to-morrow he +shall take his place among us and be the little sunbeam. Yes, yes-- +think how far the sunbeam has to travel!" she murmured, +inspirationally. + +Miss Clarkson knelt down before the boy and gathered him into her +arms. The act was spontaneous and sincere, but as she did it she +realized that in the eyes of the German, and even in those of Mrs. +Eltner, it seemed theatrical. It was one of the things Fraulein von +Hoffman disapproved in her--this tendency to moments of emotion. + +"Good-night, Ivan," she said. "I am going to stay until morning, so I +shall see you then. Sleep well. I am sure you will be a happy little +boy in this pleasant home." + +The unfathomable eyes of Ivan Ivanovitch looked back into hers. + +"Good-night, madam," he said, quietly. Then, as she was about to turn +away, his small face took on for an instant the dawn of an expression. +"Good-night, madam," he said again, more faintly. + +Slight as the change had been, Miss Clarkson caught it. She swayed +toward him. + +"Are you homesick, Ivan?" she asked, caressingly, almost lovingly. +"Would you like me to take you up-stairs and put you to bed?" + +Fraulein von Hoffman broke in upon her speech. + +"But they shall all go!" she cried. "It is their time. He will not be +alone. Josephine shall take him by the hand; Augustus Adolphus shall +lead the way. It will be a little procession--ach, yes! And he shall +have his supper in the nursery." + +A chubby, confident little girl of nine detached herself from the +group near them and grasped the hand of Ivan Ivanovitch firmly within +her own. He regarded her stoically for an instant; then his eyes +returned to Miss Clarkson's, who had risen, and was watching him +closely. There was a faint flicker in them as he replied to her +question. + +"No, madam," he said, gravely. "Thank you, madam. Good-night, madam." + +He bowed deeply, drawing the reluctant figure of the startled +Josephine into the salute as he did so. A sturdy German boy of eleven, +with snapping brown eyes, placed himself before the children, his feet +beating time, his head very high. "Forward, march!" he cried, in +clear, boyish tones. The triumphant Josephine obeyed the command, +dragging her charge after her. Thus convoyed, one companion leading, +another pulling, the rest following with many happy giggles, Ivan +Ivanovitch marched up-stairs to bed. His life as the community's +sunbeam had begun. + +The next morning Fraulein von Hoffman met Miss Clarkson in the hall, +and turned upon her the regard of a worried gray eye. Miss Clarkson +returned the look, her heart sinking as she did so. + +"It is that child," the German began. "He is of an interest--and ach, +ja! of a discouragement," she added, with a gusty sigh. "Already I can +see it--what it will be. He speaks not; he plays not. He gazes always +from the window, and when one speaks, he says, 'Yes, madam'--only +that. This morning I looked to see him bright and happy, but it is not +so. Is it that his little heart breaks for his mother? Is it--that he +is always thus?" + +Miss Clarkson shook her head and then nodded, forming thereby +unconsciously the sign of the cross. The combination seemed to answer +the German's questions. Fraulein von Hoffman nodded also, slowly, and +with comprehension. + +"I don't know what you can do with him," said the American, frankly. +"He's like that all the time. I asked his mother, and she admitted it. +I brought him here because I hoped the other children might brighten +him up, and I knew you could arouse him if any one could." + +The tribute, rare from Miss Clarkson, cheered Fraulein von Hoffman. +Her face cleared. She began to regain her self-confidence. + +"Ach, well," she said, comfortably, "we will see. We will do our best +--yes, of a certainty. And we will see." She strolled away after this +oracular utterance, and Miss Clarkson went to breakfast. Thus neither +witnessed a scene taking place at that moment on the lawn near the +front veranda. Standing there with his back against a pillar, +surrounded by the other children of the community, was Ivan +Ivanovitch. In the foreground, facing him, stood Augustus Adolphus, +addressing the new-comer in firm accents, and emphasizing his remarks +by waving a grimy forefinger before Ivan Ivanovitch's uninterested +face. The high, positive tones of Augustus Adolphus filled the air. + +"Well, then, why don't you do it?" he was asking, fiercely. "You _got_ +to do it! You _have_ to! Fraulein says so. The rest of us has to do +ours. I filled my wood-boxes already, and Josie watered the flowers. +We did it early so we could watch you being a sunbeam, and now you +ain't being one. Why ain't you? You _got_ to! Why don't you begin?" +The continued unresponsiveness of Ivan Ivanovitch irritated him at +this point, and he turned excitedly to the others for support. + +"'Ain't he got to?" he cried. "'Ain't he got to be a sunbeam? Fraulein +said he should begin this morning. Well, then, why don't he begin?" + +A childish buzz of corroboration answered him. It was plain that the +assignment of Ivan's mission, publicly made as it had been the night +before, had deeply impressed the children of the community. They +closed around the two boys. The small Josephine laid a propelling hand +upon Ivan's shoulder and tried to push him forward, with a vague idea +of thus accelerating his task. + +"Begin now," she suggested, encouragingly. "Do it, and have it over. +That's the way I do." + +In response to this maiden appeal the lips of Ivan Ivanovitch parted. + +"I do not know how to do it," he announced, distinctly. "How shall I +do it?" + +Augustus Adolphus broke in again. "Aw, say, go on," he urged. "You +_got_ to do it! Why _don't_ you, then?" + +Ivan Ivanovitch turned upon him an eye in which the habitual +expression of patience was merely intensified. + +"I do not know how to do it," he said again, speaking slowly and +painstakingly. "You tell me how; then I will do it." + +Under the force of this counter-charge, Augustus Adolphus fell back. + +"I--I--don't know, neither," he muttered, feebly. "I thought you knew. +You _got_ to know, 'cause you got to do it." + +The eyes of the small Russian swept the little group, and lingered on +the round face of Josephine. + +"You tell me," he said to her. "Then I will do it." + +Josephine rose to the occasion. + +"Why, why," she began, doubtfully, "_I_ know what it is. You be a +sunbeam, you know. I know what a sunbeam is. It's a little piece of +the sun. It is long and bright. It comes through the window and falls +on the floor. Sometimes it falls on us. Sometimes it falls on +flowers." + +Offered this choice, Ivan at once expressed his preference. + +"I will fall on flowers," he announced, with decision. + +The brown eyes of Augustus Adolphus glittered as he suddenly grasped +the possibilities of the situation. + +"No, you won't, neither!" he cried, excitedly. "You got to do it +_all!_ You better begin now. You can fall through that window; it's +open." He indicated, as he spoke, a low French window leading from the +living-room on to the broad veranda. "He's got to!" he cried, again. +"'Ain't he got to?" With a unanimous cry the meeting declared that he +had got to. Some of the children knew better; others did not; but all +knew Augustus Adolphus Schmidtt. + +Without a word, Ivan turned, walked up the steps of the veranda, +entered the wide hall, swung to the left, crossed the living-room, +approached the window, and fell out, head first. There was something +deeply impressive in the silence and swiftness of his action, +something deliriously stimulating to the spectators in the thud of his +small body on the unyielding wood. A long sigh of happiness was +exhaled by the group of children. Certainly this was a new duty--a +strange one, but worthy, no doubt, since it emanated from Fraulein, +and beyond question interesting as a spectacle. Augustus Adolphus +resolved in that instant to attend to his personal tasks at an early +hour each day, that he might have uninterrupted leisure for getting +new falls out of Ivan's. That infant had now found his feet, and was +methodically brushing the dust from his clothes. There was a rapidly +developing lump over one eye, but his expression remained unchanged. +Josephine approached him with happy gurgles. Her heart was filled with +womanly sympathy, but her soul remained undaunted. She was of the +Spartan stuff that sends sons to the war, and holds a reception for +them if they return--from victory--on their shields. She cooed in +conscious imitation of Fraulein's best manner. "Now, you can fall on +flowers." + +Her victim followed her unresistingly to the spot she indicated, and, +having arrived, cast himself violently upon a bed of blazing +nasturtiums. The enthusiastic and approving group of children closed +around him as he rose. Even Augustus Adolphus, as he surveyed the +wreck that remained, yielded to Ivan's loyal devotion to his role the +tribute of an envious sigh. + +"Now you can fall on us," he suggested, joyfully. Before the words had +left his innocent lips, Ivan had made his choice. The next instant the +air was full of arms, legs, caps, and hair. + +"Lemme go!" shrieked Augustus Adolphus, battling wildly with the +unsuspected and terrible force that had suddenly assailed him. "Lemme +go, I tell you!" + +The reply of Ivan came through set teeth as he planted one heel firmly +in the left ear of the recumbent youth. "I have to fall on you," he +explained, mildly, suiting the action to the word. "First I fall on +you; then I let you go." + +There was no question in the minds of the spectators that this was the +most brilliant and successfully performed of the strange and +interesting tasks of Ivan. They clustered around to tell him so, while +Augustus Adolphus sought the dormitory for needed repairs. One of the +rules of the community was that the children should settle their +little disputes among themselves. Fortunately, perhaps, for Augustus +Adolphus he found the dormitory empty, and was able to remove from his +person the most obvious evidences of one hoisted by his own petard. In +the mean time Ivan Ivanovitch was experiencing a new sensation--the +pleasurable emotion caused by the praise of one's kind. But he did not +show that it was pleasant--he merely gazed and listened. + +"I think your new duties is nice," Josephine informed him, as she +gazed upon him with eyes humid with approval. "You have to do it every +day," she added, gluttonously. + +Ivan assented, but in his heart there lay a doubt. Seeking for light, +he approached Fraulein von Hoffman that afternoon as she dozed and +knitted under a sheltering tree. + +He stopped before her and fixed her with his serious gaze. + +"Does a sunbeam fall through windows?" he inquired, politely. + +Fraulein von Hoffman regarded him with a drowsy lack of interest. + +"But yes, surely, sometimes," she admitted. + +"Does it fall always through the window--every day?" + +"But yes, surely, if it is in the right place." + +The community's sunbeam sighed. + +"Does it fall on flowers and on boys and girls?" he persisted. + +"But yes, it falls on everything that is near." + +A look of pained surprise dawned upon the features of Ivan Ivanovitch. + +"Always?" he asked, quickly. "Always--it falls on _everything_ that is +near?" + +Fraulein von Hoffman placidly counted her stitches, confirming with a +sigh her suspicion that in dozing she had dropped three. + +"Not always," she murmured, absently. "But no. Only when the sun is +shining." + +Ivan carried this gleam of comfort with him when he went away, and it +is very possible that he longed for a darkened world. But if, indeed, +his daily task was difficult, as it frequently proved to be as the +days passed, there were compensations--in the school games, in the +companionships of his new friends, in the kindness of those around +him. Even Augustus Adolphus was good to him at times. Unquestioningly, +inscrutably, Ivan absorbed atmosphere, and did his share of the +community's work as he saw it. + +The theories of the community were consistently carried out. In the +summer, after their few hours of study, the children were left to +themselves. Together they worked out the problems of their little +world; together they discussed, often with an uncanny insight, the +grown-ups around them. Sometimes the tasks of the others were +forgotten; frequently, in the stress of work and play, Augustus +Adolphus's wood-box remained unfulfilled; Josephine's flowers were +unwatered. But the mission of Ivan as a busy and strenuous sunbeam was +regularly and consistently carried out--all the children saw to that. +Regularly, that is, save on dark days. Here he drew the line. + +"Fraulein says it only falls on things when the sun shines," he +explained, tersely, and he fulfilled his mission accordingly. Fraulein +wondered where he had accumulated the choice collection of bumps and +bruises that adorned his person; but he never told, and apparently +nobody else knew. Mrs. Eltner marvelled darkly over the destruction of +her favorite nasturtium-bed. Daily the stifled howls of Augustus +Adolphus continued to rend the ambient air when the sunbeam fell on +him; but he forbore to complain, suffering heroically this unpleasant +feature of the programme, that the rest might not be curtailed. Once, +indeed, he had rebelled. + +"Why don't you fall on some one else?" he had demanded, sulkily. "You +don't have to fall on me all the time." + +The reply of the sunbeam was convincing in its simple truth. + +"I do," he explained. "Fraulein has said so. It must fall always on +the same place if it is there." + +Augustus Adolphus was silenced. He was indeed there, always. It was +unfortunate, but seemed inevitable, that he should contribute his +share to the daily entertainment so deeply enjoyed by all. + +It was, very appropriately, at Thanksgiving-time that Ivan's mission +as an active sunbeam ended. He was engaged in his usual profound +meditation in the presence of Miss Clarkson, who had come to see him, +and who was at the moment digesting the information she had received, +that not once in his months at Locust Hall had he been seen to smile. +True, he seemed well and contented. His thin little figure was fast +taking on plumpness; he was brown, bright-eyed. Studying him, Miss +Clarkson observed a small bruise on his chin, another on his +intellectual brow. + +"How did you get those, Ivan?" she asked. + +For some reason Ivan suddenly decided to tell her. + +"I fell through the window. This one I got yesterday"--he touched it-- +"this one I got Monday; this one I got last week." He revealed another +that she had not discovered, lurking behind his left ear. + +"But surely you didn't fall through the window as often as that!" +gasped Miss Clarkson. The small boy surveyed her wearily. + +"But yes," he murmured, in unconscious imitation of Praulein. "I must +fall through the window every day when the sun shines." + +Miss Clarkson held him off at arm's-length and stared at him. + +"In Heaven's name, _why?_" she demanded. + +Ivan explained patiently. Miss Clarkson listened, asked a few +questions, gave way to a moment of uncontrollable emotion. Then she +called together the other children, and again heard the story. It came +disjointedly from each in turn, but most fluently, most picturesquely, +most convincingly, from the lips of Augustus Adolphus Schmidtt and the +fair Josephine. When they had finished their artless recital, Miss +Clarkson sought Fraulein von Hoffman. That afternoon, beside the big +open fire in the children's winter play-room, Fraulein von Hoffman +addressed her young charges in words brief but pointed, and as she +talked the mission of Ivan at Locust Hall took on a new significance, +clear to the dullest mind. + +"You were very cruel to Ivan--ach, most cruel! And he is not to fall +any more, anywhere, on anything, you understand," explained the +German, clearly. "He has no tasks any more. He is but to be happy, and +you should love him and take care of him, because he is so small. That +is all." + +Ivan exhaled a sigh of deep contentment. Then he looked around him. +The great logs on the andirons were blazing merrily. In the hands of +Josephine a corn-popper waved above them, the corn inside burning +unobserved as she lent her ears to Fraulein's earnest words. Ten +apples, suspended on strings, swung from the mantel, spinning slowly +as they roasted. It was a restful and agreeable scene to the eyes of +little Ivan. + +Josephine felt called upon to defend her friends. + +"We didn't mean to be cruel," she explained, earnestly, answering the +one of Fraulein's charges which had most impressed her. "We love Ivan. +We love him lots. We like to see him to be a sunbeam, an' we thought +he liked to be one. He never said he didn't." + +The faces of his little companions were all around him. Ivan surveyed +them in turn. They loved him--lots. Had not Josephine just said so? +And only yesterday Augustus Adolphus had played marbles with him. It +was very good to be loved, to have a home, and not to be a little +sunbeam any longer. Then his eyes met those of Miss Clarkson, fixed +upon him sympathetically. + +"Would you like to go away, Ivan?" she asked, quietly. "Would you be +happier somewhere else?" + +The eyes of Ivan widened with sudden fear. To have this and to lose +it!--now, if ever, he must speak! "Oh _no_," he cried, earnestly; "no, +_no_, madam!" + +Reassured, she smiled at him, and as she did so something in her look, +in the atmosphere, in the moment, opened the boy's closed heart. He +drew a long breath and smiled back at her--a shy, hesitant, +unaccustomed smile, but one very charming on his serious little face. +Miss Clarkson's heart leaped in sudden triumph. It was his first +smile, and it was for her. + +"I like it here," he said. "I like it very much, madam." + +Miss Clarkson had moments of wisdom. + +"Then you shall stay, my boy," she said. "You shall stay as long as +you wish. But, remember, you must not be a sunbeam any more." + +Ivan responded in one word--a simple, effective word, much used by his +associates in response to pleasing announcements of holidays and +vacations, but thus far a stranger on his lips. He threw back his head +and straightened his shoulders. + +"Hurray!" he cried, with deep fervor. This was enough for Augustus +Adolphus and the fair Josephine. "Hurray!" they shrieked, in jubilant +duet--"Hurray! Hurray!" + +The others joined in. "Hur-ray!" cried the nine small companions of +Ivan. He looked at them for a moment, his thin mouth twitching. They +were glad, too, then, that he was to stay! He walked straight to Miss +Clarkson, buried his face in her lap, and burst into tears. For a +moment she held him close, smoothing his black head with a tender +hand. Almost immediately he straightened himself and returned to the +side of Josephine, shy, shamefaced, but smiling again--a new Ivan. + +"What did you cry for?" demanded that young lady, obtusely. "Because +you feel bad?" + +Augustus Adolphus replied for his friend, with an insight beyond his +years. + +"You let him alone," he said, severely. "He don't never cry when he +feels bad; _he_ only cries when he feels good!" + + + + +VII + +IN MEMORY OF HANNAH'S LAUGH + + +His name was "'Rastus Calhoun Breckenridge," he announced the morning +that he began his new duties as janitor of the Adelaide apartments, +and he at once gave the tenants to understand that no liberties were +to be taken with it. He preferred it _all_ when he was addressed in +ordinary conversation, he explained to them, but he had no objections +to the title, "Mistah Breckenridge," when they felt hurried. This +interested every inmate of the Adelaide, and for a few days amazingly +amused several, who gave play to their fancy in the use of +abbreviations which struck them as humorous. Their jokes lost point, +subsequently, when it was discovered that on no occasion did "Mistah +Breckenridge" respond to their calls nor meet their demands--whereas +his service to all others was swift, expert, phenomenally perfect. +Thereafter the jokers forswore indulgence of their sense of humor and +addressed the janitor at full length and with fuller deference, to +reap their reward with those whose apartments were warm, whose +reasonable requests were met, whose halls were clean, and whose door- +knobs shone even as the rare smile of "Mistah Breckenridge" himself. + +It required no unusual powers of observation to discover that as a +janitor the new man was the rare and perfect specimen who keeps alive +in a chilly world the tender plant of faith. Long before the sun was +up his busy mop and broom were heard in the land, and the slip-slap of +his carpet slippers, flopping along the halls as he made his nightly +round, was the lullaby of dissipated souls who "retired" at eleven. +Results followed with gratifying promptness. Apartments long empty +were soon rented, and envious neighbors came to gaze in awe upon the +Adelaide and its presiding genius, beholding in it the fine essence of +New England neatness and in him a small, thin, nervous, insignificant- +looking "colored gemman," who gazed past the sides of their faces with +cold aloofness. Often, neighbors, passing the impressive entrance, +heard from the lower regions of the building the sound of a high +chuckle, deepening rapidly to a contralto gurgle, and then broadening +out into a long, rich, velvety laugh as smooth as a flowing stream. No +one could hear that laugh unmoved. It rippled, it lilted, it died +away, and rolled forth again until the most _blase_ listener smiled in +sympathy, and children in the streets haw-hawed in mindless glee. It +was the laugh of Hannah--_Mrs._ 'Rastus Calhoun Breckenridge, as her +husband was careful to explain; and he once so far forgot his dignity +as to add, expansively, "We got de stifkit dat prove hit, Hannah an' +me. We got mah'd, _real_ mah'd, by a pahson." + +Hannah--stout, indolent, good-looking, good-natured, large enough to +make two small persons like her husband--chuckled and gurgled into her +fruity laugh. + +"Dat's de mos' pahtickler man," she volunteered, artlessly. Then, +seeing with wifely insight the first traces of gloom on her lord's +brow, she winked, trembled like a jelly-fish in a fresh convulsion of +her exhaustless mine of mirth, and disappeared into the lower regions, +to which, it was said, her husband devoted much more housewifely care +than she did. Usually he cooked his meals--and hers. Invariably he +scrubbed and swept the floors. + +Not infrequently he washed and ironed. But whatever he did and +whatever he was, the ripple of his wife's easy laughter followed him +like the wave in the wake of a puffing tug; and as he listened, the +weazened face of "Mistah Breckenridge" took on the expression of a +small dog who hears his master's footsteps at the end of a dragging +day. + +The strenuousness of life left 'Rastus little time for the society of +his wife, but occasionally on a Sunday afternoon a rainbow-hued +apparition appeared at the entrance of the Adelaide, which, being +resolved into its elements, was recognized as "Mistah" and Mrs. +Breckenridge attired for a walk. Richly red were the hats of Hannah, +brilliantly blue her gown, glaringly yellow her new kid gloves. Like a +rubber-tired automobile she rolled along the street, while, not a bad +second--immaculate, silent, spatted, creased, silk-hatted, gloved, and +lavender-tied--pattered her small husband. He rarely spoke and never +laughed; but there was no evidence that Hannah missed these +attentions; if she did, there were numerous compensations, one of +which she confided to the cook of the newly married Browns, on the +first floor. + +"'Rastus suttinly do pay mah bills," she murmured, appreciatively. And +then, with her unctuous laugh, "An' ah suttinly does keep dat man busy +at hit!" + +Quite possibly it was this and his other occupations which for a long +time made "Mistah Breckemidge" seemingly oblivious of a situation +which deeply impressed many others. It was the frequent presence in +his home of another "colored gemman"--large, brilliantly attired, +loud-voiced, and cheerful--who called upon Hannah three or four times +a week and whiled away many hours in her stimulating society. +Occasionally her husband found him there, but if the fact annoyed him +he gave no evidence of it. It was observed, too, that the manner of +the visitor was gingerly deferential toward his host; he evidently +desired no trouble with "Mistah Breckenridge." Occasionally he took +Hannah for a walk; several times he brought her simple offerings of +chickens and melons, heartening her to their consumption by +participating in the same. One evening he presented her with a rhine +stone belt-buckle. The next morning "Mistah Breckenridge" sought young +Haddon Brown, the newly married, who happened to be a lawyer as well +as a happy groom. Without preface or apology, 'Rastus came to the +point. He wished a divorce from Hannah. He wished it to be procured as +cheaply as possible, but economy was not to interfere with its being +riveted as strongly as the law permitted. He had his facts neatly +tabulated. There was no emotion on his little black face. At the door, +after young Brown had promised to do what he could for him, "Mistah +Breckenridge" paused. + +"Git it jes' as quick as yuh kin, Mistah Brown," he suggested, "foh ef +yuh don't, I'se feared Hannah ain't a-gwine tuh stay tell hit comes. +Hannah am mighty sudden sometimes in huh ways." With this final +tribute to his spouse, he shut the door quietly and departed. + +In due time Haddon Brown handed "Mistah Breckenridge" the documentary +evidence of his freedom, and immediately on its receipt Hannah rose, +donned her most radiant attire, shook out a few farewell peals of +laughter, and departed, closely followed by the friend of the family, +beautiful in patent-leather shoes, new gray spats, and a tie to match. +Left alone, 'Rastus rearranged his household possessions, watered the +geraniums blooming in his basement windows, scrubbed, washed, answered +bells as scrupulously as of yore, and each night, when the work of the +day was done, donned his best clothes, oiled his crinkly hair, and +departed, returning in time for his usual inspection of the halls at +eleven o'clock. + +At the end of one month he set a fresh geranium in the window, +purchased a generous supply of provisions, went forth attired like +Solomon, and came back holding in one hand the hand of a blushing +bride, and in the other the "stifkit," signed by the negro minister +who had just married them. + +No two human beings could have been more unlike than the former and +the present Mrs. 'Rastus Calhoun Breckenridge. The bride was tall, +thin, chocolate-colored, serious, and hard-working. She toiled as +steadily and as indefatigably as her husband, and to the most cynical +observer it was plain that she loved him and valued him even at his +worth. She cooked appetizing meals for him, to which he did full +justice; she mended his old clothes and saw to it that he bought new +ones; she saved his money; and at the end of the year she presented +him with a small, fat, black son, over which 'Rastus hung in pathetic +wonder. + +He himself had begun to grow stout. He put on more flesh as three +additional years passed. He seemed well-fed, happy, and prosperous. He +had money in the bank. His wages had been twice increased, and one +Christmas the enthusiastic tenants of the Adelaide had solemnly +presented him with a watch, with his name and the value of his +services inscribed in the case. His little boy flourished, his silent +wife still adored him. The world seemed good to 'Rastus. + +One day a dirty note was put into his hand by a small black youth he +had never seen before. It was brief but pointed: + +"I am sik. Com to Sharty Hospitl. He ain't duin nuthen fer me. +HANNAH." + +"Mistah Breckenridge" carefully placed the note in his pocket, put his +hat on his head, and went to the Charity Hospital. It was not hard to +find Hannah. She had not been there long, but the doctors and nurses +liked her and seemed to have been expecting him. + +"She's the life of the place," said one of them. "She's got a lot of +pluck, too, and laughs when we hurt her. She thinks she's going to get +well, but she isn't." + +The little round face of 'Rastus changed expression. + +"She gwine tuh die?" he asked, quickly. + +"Sure," was the terse reply. + +"How--how soon?" + +The doctor hesitated. "In about a month, I think," he said, finally. + +'Rastus carried the memory of the words into the ward where she lay, +and then felt a quick sense of reaction. Die? Why, this was the old- +time Hannah, the Hannah of his youth, the Hannah he had married. She +was thinner, but the lines had smoothed out of her face and her big +black eyes looked up at him as confidingly as the eyes of a baby. She +laughed, too, a little--a ghost of the old, fat, comfortable chuckle; +but there was nothing of death nor even of suffering about Hannah that +day. Her spirit was not yet overthrown. + +"Ahm awful glad tuh see yuh, honey," she said. "Ah knew yuh'd cum." + +'Rastus sat down on the wooden chair beside her and fixed his little +black eyes unwinkingly upon her face. In his hands he held his hat, +which he twisted nervously between his knees at first, but finally +forgetfully dropped on the floor as his embarrassment passed. Propped +up on her pillows, Hannah chatted incessantly, telling him the small +details of her hospital life and such few facts of her illness as she +had been permitted to know. + +"I ain' got no pain," she assured him--"des now, I mean. Bimeby hit'll +cum, like hit do ebery aftahnoon, but doctah he come, too, an' he git +de better ub hit, ebery time. He sure am good to me, dat man!" + +Her white teeth flashed in a smile as she talked, but the eyes she +kept on the man's face had a curious look of wonder in them. + +"Yuh look well, honey," she said, finally, "an' yit yuh doan look +well. How come dat? You-all ain' got nuffin' tuh trouble yuh, is yuh?" + +'Rastus hurriedly assured her that he had not. He did not mention his +wife nor child, of whose existence she was, of course, perfectly +aware; but he dilated on the glories of his position, the size of his +income, and the gift of the watch. He pulled the last from his pocket +as he spoke of it, and she wagged her head proudly over it and +shamelessly boasted to the nurse who happened to come to her side. + +"Dey give dat to mah husban'," she said. Then she mentioned casually, +with all her old naivete, "Leaseways, he wuz mah husban' oncet." + +"Mistah Breckenridge" ignored this little incident. His mind was on +practical things. + +"Yuh got all yuh want, Hannah?" he asked. "'Caze ahm gwine tuh git hit +foh yuh ef yuh ain't." + +Hannah, who seemed prepared for this inquiry, responded to it with +much promptness. She needed a wrapper, she said, and some cologne, and +three new night-gowns, and "a lil chicking." 'Rastus wrote down each +item painstakingly and somewhat ostentatiously in a hand suited to +unruled paper. Then he bowed to the nurse, touched Hannah's hand with +his sinewy little paw, and trotted out with an air of vast importance. + +For several weeks the Adelaide was almost neglected, and puzzled +tenants sought the janitor in vain. He was rarely home, but Dinah, +dark-browed, sullen, red-lidded, and with a look of suffering on her +plain face, responded to their demands and did, so far as she could, +her husband's work and her own. She made no explanation of his +absence, and the last one which would have been accepted was the +truth--that day after day "Mistah Breckenridge" sat by the bedside of +Hannah, talking to her, cheering her, nursing her, feeding her with +the fruit he had brought her. He had almost superseded the nurse; and +the doctors, watching the pair, let them do much as they pleased, on +the dreary theory that nothing Hannah did could hurt her now. +Sometimes she had hours of severe pain, during which he remained with +her, holding her hand, soothing her, and lifting her still great bulk +in his thin arms with unexpected strength. In her better hours she +talked to him, telling him stories about the other patients, anecdotes +of nurses and doctors, and mimicking several luckless victims to the +life. + +It was six weeks before Hannah died, very suddenly, and in one of her +paroxysms of suffering. 'Rastus was with her at the end, as he had +been during the hard weeks preceding it. When he realized that all was +over, he left the room, sought an undertaker, had a brief but pregnant +interview with him, and then disappeared from the hospital and from +the city as well. Where he went no one knew, though Dinah, wellnigh +frantic, strove distractedly to learn. On the morning of Hannah's +funeral he returned and assumed a leading part in that melancholy +procession, long after referred to as "de mos' scrumptuous bury-in'" +in colored circles. Nothing had been omitted that she would have +wished. Tall plumes nodded on the hearse, many carriages gathered in +the mourners, and close behind the silver-trimmed coffin which held +all that was left of Hannah. "Mistah Breckenridge" walked with leaden +steps, his small face drawn with grief. Subsequently he drew most of +his savings from the bank to pay the bills, and, having paid them, +returned once more to his anxious family and the monotonous routine of +life at the Adelaide. + +Dinah welcomed him coldly, and went about her duties with her head +high. She said no word of reproach, and it was not until several weeks +had passed that it was borne in upon her that 'Rastus remained +oblivious not only to her just wifely resentment, but to most other +things and emotions in life as well. He did his work, but he ate +little and slept less, and the flesh of his prosperous years seemed to +drop from him even as the startled beholder gazed. In despair Dinah +sought Haddon Brown and laid the case before him. + +"Dat man am suttinly gwine lose his min'," she sobbed, "ef he keep on +like he doin'. Den what gwine become of me and dat in'cen' chile!" + +Young Brown casually and unostentatiously looked 'Rastus over, and was +not satisfied with the survey. The janitor's lips were drawn, his eyes +were glassy, his clothes hung loosely on his shrunken little figure. +He did his work as a manikin wound up for the purpose might have done +it. There was no spring, no energy, no snap. Mr. Brown waited a +fortnight, expecting some change. None coming, one Sunday morning he +urged 'Rastus to go with him on a fishing trip, carry bait, fish if he +wanted to, and make himself generally useful. With unrelieved gloom +"Mistah Breckenridge" accepted the invitation, and the two left the +city behind them, and sought the peace of wood and stream and broad, +overarching sky. + +When he had found the shaded nook that seemed most promising, young +Brown baited his hook, dropped it into the water, and gave himself up +to pleasant reveries in which poor "Mistah Breckenridge" had no part. +He had good-naturedly brought him out here for rest and change and +sport and pure air, he told himself, but it was hardly to be expected +that he should do more. He yawned, dozed, and surveyed his line +without curiosity; beside him sat "Mistah Breckenridge," every muscle +of him tense, and a light in his eyes that was not nice to see. + +The spot they had chosen was a not infrequented one in the Bronx +woods, and at intervals the sound of human voices came to them and the +light colors of a woman's gown showed through the trees. Suddenly a +laugh was borne to their ears--a woman's laugh; light, happy, +irrepressible. Young Brown opened one eye. It sounded like the laugh +of a nice girl. He looked lazily in the direction whence it came. Then +close by his side he heard a thud, a groan. His companion had pitched +full length on the ground, and lay there crying with great, gasping +sobs, and tearing up the grasses by the roots. Brown gazed aghast, +startled, sympathetic, understanding dimly, yet repelled by this +unmasculine outburst. He began to speak, but changed his mind and +waited, his eyes again on the bobbing cork of his line. + +"Mistah Breckenridge" cried a long time--a very long time, indeed, it +seemed to young Brown, ill at ease and wholly unused to such +demonstrations. Then he sat up, pulled himself together, and turned a +distorted face toward the young man who had been so good a friend to +him. + +"You-all know, Mr. Brown, ah sure is ashamed," he said, quietly, "but +ah feel bettah, an' ah guess hit done me good. Ah felt like ah could +kill someone when we come yeah, but ah feel differnt now." + +His voice trailed into silence. He restlessly pulled up dandelions and +blades of grass around him, but his face had relaxed and he seemed +calm. Haddon Brown murmured something about a nervous strain, but the +other did not seem to hear him. + +"Hit wuz dat lady laffin'," he said, suddenly. "You-all know how mah +Hannah use tuh laff. Mah gracious! Yuh could heah dat woman a mile! +An' yuh know," he proceeded, slowly, "hit done me lots o' good, Mistah +Brown, des to heah huh. Ahm a silen' man, an' ah doan laff much, but +ah liked hit in Hannah, ah suttinly did--mighty well. Hit des made dis +mo'nful ole wurl' seem a chee'ful place--hit did indeed." + +Brown said nothing. There was nothing in his mind that quite fitted +the occasion. "Mistah Breckenridge" ripped a few more dandelions off +their stems and went on. + +"W'y, when dat woman lef me--when mah Hannah went away--ah use tuh go +aftah night to de place whah she lived, jes' to heah huh laff again. +Ah'd stan' out in d' dahk, an' ah'd see huh shadow on de cu'tin, an' +den ah'd heah huh laff an' laff lak she always done, an' den--ah'd +come home! Ah done dat all dese yeahs sense mah Hannah lef me. Dinah's +all right. Ah ain' complainin' none 'bout Dinah. Ah mah'd huh caze ah +wuz lonesome, an' she suttinly bin a good wife to me. Ahm goin' to wuk +foh huh tell ah git back all the money ah spent on Hannah. Hit wus +Dinah's money, too. But"--he burst out again with a sudden long wail-- +"ah jes' doan see how ahm goin' tuh keep on livin in a worl' whah dey +ain't no Hannah!" + +His grief gathered force as he gave it rein. He hurled himself down on +the ground again and tore at the grasses with his thin black hands. +"Oh, ah want, ah want, _ah want tuh heah mah Hannah laff again!_" he +cried, frenziedly. + +A fish nibbled at the bait on Brown's hook, changed his mind, flirted +his fins, and swam away--a proof of the proverb about second thoughts. +A bird in the branches of the tree above the two men burst into +ecstatic song. But neither heard him. "Mistah Breckenridge" had buried +his black face in the cool grass, his hot tears falling fast upon it. +Beside him young Brown, brought face to face with elemental +conditions, sat silent and thought hard. + + + + +VIII + +THE QUEST OF AUNT NANCY + + +It was in a stuffy compartment of a night train approaching Paris that +Jessica and I were privileged to look upon Aunt Nancy for the first +time. Her obvious age would soon have attracted our attention, no +doubt, and certainly the gallantry with which she carried her eighty +years could not long have escaped the observation of two such earnest +students of humanity as we believed ourselves to be. But the +characteristic in her which at once caught my eye was her expression-- +a look of such keen alertness, such intense vitality, that even in the +mental stagnation that accompanies night travel I wondered what, in +her surroundings, could explain it. + +The dingy carriage in which we sat was vaguely illuminated by an oil +lamp, the insufficient rays of which brought out effective high lights +on the bald head of one audibly slumbering German on our side of the +compartment, and on the heavy face of a stout Frenchwoman who sat +opposite him, next to the old lady upon whom I was concentrating my +attention. The latter, obviously an American, the two foreigners, and +ourselves, were the sole occupants of the compartment; and certainly +in the appearance of none of her four fellow-passengers was there +justification of the wide-awake intentness of the kind old eyes that +now beamed on us through heavy, steel-rimmed spectacles. Pensively, as +befitted the weary wanderer, I marvelled. How could she look so alive, +so wide awake, so energetic, at one o'clock in the morning? + +The bald-headed man slept on. The stout woman removed a shell comb +from her back hair and composed herself for deeper slumber. Jessica +presented to my lambent gaze a visage which besought unspoken +sympathy, and mutely breathed a protest against travel in general and +this phase of it in particular. Jessica in the "still small hours" was +never really gay. It was dimly comforting to one of my companionable +nature to turn from her to the little old woman opposite me. In figure +and dress she might have posed for one of Leech's drawings of ancient +dames, so quaintly prim was she, so precise in their folds were her +little black mantle and her simple black gown, so effective a frame to +her wrinkled face was the wide black bonnet she wore. On her hands, +demurely crossed in her lap, were black lace mitts. Moreover, she was +enveloped, so to speak, in a dim aroma of peppermint, the source of +which was even then slightly distending one faded cheek. Irrepressibly +I smiled at her, and at once a long-drawn sigh of pleasure floated +across to me. In spontaneous good-fellowship she leaned forward. + +"It's a real comfortable journey, ain't it?" she whispered, so +evidently torn between a passionate desire to talk and consideration +for the sleepers that my heart went out to her. + +"Well, if you mean this especial journey--" I hesitated. + +"Yes, I do," she insisted. "The seats are real comfortable. Everything +is." She threw out her mittened hands with a gesture that seemed to +emphasize a demand for approval. "I wouldn't change a single thing. +Some say it's hot; I don't think 'tis. I wouldn't mind, though, if +'twas. We're gettin' a nice draught." + +I looked through the open window at the French landscape, bathed in +the glory of an August moon. + +"That, at least, is very satisfactory," I admitted, cheerfully. + +She looked a little blank as she glanced around, and a queer +expression of responsibility settled over her features, blurring their +brightness like a veil. + +"I see," she said, slowly. "You mean France. Yes, 'tis nice, an' +they's certainly a great deal to see in it." She hesitated a moment, +and then went on more rapidly. "You know," she continued, in her high- +keyed, sibilant whisper, "it's some different with me from what 'tis +with you. You can speak French. I heard you talkin' to the conductor. +An' I suppose you've been here often, an' like it. But this is the +first time _I've_ come over to Europe. I've always meant to, sometime, +but things ain't been just so's I _could_ come. Now't I'm here, I +can't stay long, an' I must say I feel kind of homesick. There's so +much to see it jest makes my head swim. I come for a purpose--a +purpose of my own--but now't I'm here, I want to do my duty an' see +things. I declare," she added, shamefacedly, "I most hate to go to +sleep nights, I'm so afraid I'll miss something an' hear about it when +I git back." + +I asked a conventional question, which evoked a detailed report of her +journeyings. By this time Jessica had opened one eye; the two +foreigners slept on peacefully. She had landed at Naples, the old lady +told me; and from her subsequent remarks I gathered that she had found +the Italians as a people deficient in the admirable qualities of +cleanliness and modesty. She lamented, also, an over-preponderance of +art galleries, and the surprising slowness of the natives to grasp +intelligent remarks made in the English tongue. Aside from these +failings, however, she had found Italy somewhat interesting, and she +mentioned especially the grotto at Capri and the ascent of Vesuvius. +She added, casually, that few of her fellow-tourists had made this +latter excursion, as it was just after the severest eruptions, and the +air had been full of dust and cinders. Jessica opened the other eye. I +began to experience vivid interest in the conversation. + +Rome, she further revealed, meant to her the Campagna and the +Catacombs. On the former she had taken walks, and in the very bowels +of the latter she had seemingly burrowed for days, following some +mysterious purpose of her own. Her favorite time for a promenade on +the Campagna, and one she paused to recommend to me, was at dusk, the +place then being quiet and peaceful, owing to the fact that tourists, +foolishly fearing the fever, kept away from it after sunset. + +At this point Jessica sat up, arranged a pillow comfortably behind her +back, and gave her undivided attention to the monologue. At last she +put a question. Was the lady travelling alone? The lady hastened to +explain that she was not. + +"My, no," she said, briskly. "I'm a tourist--that's what they call +'em, you know, when they're with a man. They's eighteen in our party, +and the man that is takin' us is Mr. James George Jackson. He's real +nice. He's in one of the other cars on this train, an' they's three +gentlemen with him that belong to us, too. All the rest stayed in +Paris because they was tired. You see," she added, explanatorily, "we +done Lourdes in two days, an' we took it off our time in Paris. We +ain't got much time in Paris, anyhow, so we went an' come back at +night. I s'pose the rest thought it might be tryin' in the heat, so +they stayed behind an' went to Fontingblow yesterday an' up the Seen +to-day. But I saw the Black Forest when we was in Germany, an' the +Rhine, too, an' some of us walked from Binjen to Cooblens, so's we +could git the view real well. So I thought I'd let the French river +an' forest go, an' see Lourdes instead." + +Jessica interrupted here. + +"I beg your pardon," she asked, earnestly, "but--have you really been +travelling two nights and sight-seeing two days in that fearful crush +at Lourdes without any sleep?" + +Our new friend nodded slowly, as one to whose attention the matter had +just been directed. "Why, yes, that's so," she conceded. "But I ain't +a bit tired. Old folks don't need much sleep, you know, an' I'm pretty +old. I was eighty-one last June." + +Jessica dropped her pillow and sat up very straight, a slight flush +upon her face. Our new friend prattled on until the lights of Paris +appeared in the distance, and Jessica and I began to collect the +impressive array of impedimenta with which we had thoughtfully +multiplied the discomfort of travel. As we pulled down packages of +rugs and tightened various straps the bright eyes of the little old +woman watched us unswervingly through her spectacles. Grasping firmly +a stout and serviceable umbrella, she was ready to disembark. If she +had brought any baggage with her, which I doubted, it was evidently in +the fostering care of Mr. James George Jackson. + +"What hotel are you goin' to?" she asked, suddenly. "I know a real +good one." + +I told her it was the St. James et D'Albany, and her wrinkled face +grew radiant. + +"Well, now, I declare," she cried, heartily, "ain't that nice! That's +jest where we're stayin', an' I'm as comfor'ble as I can be. I got a +room with a window that looks right into the Twilry Gardens. Mr. +Jackson says that I must have the best they is, because I'm the +oldest. 'Age before beauty,' he says, an' none of the other ladies +minds a bit. They certainly are good to me. Of course, I don't say 't +I wouldn't like a more relishin' breakfast, because I would; an' I +ain't got used to that waiter man comin' right into my room with his +trays before I'm out of my bed, an' I never expect to. But _'tis_ a +good hotel, an' the lady that runs it is real nice, if she _is_ +French." + +The train swung into the great station as she spoke, and a round, +perspiring, and very grimy masculine face presented itself at the door +of our compartment. + +"Well, Aunt Nancy," said the owner of this, with a sprightly effort at +cheerfulness, "you alive yet? The rest of us are dead. You come right +along with me now, and I'll whisk you up to the hotel in a cab. And if +you take my advice, you'll go to bed and stay there for two days, +after this experience." + +He tucked the old lady under his arm as he spoke, and she trotted off +with him in high good-humor, turning several times to nod and smile at +us as she departed. + +At eight o'clock the following morning I was awakened by Jessica, who +stood at my bedside light-heartedly reminding me of my self-imposed +duty of going early to the station to attend to the luggage, which we +had omitted to do the night before. My replies to this suggestion, +while they held Jessica's awe-struck attention for five minutes, would +be of no interest here. Bitterly I rose, reluctantly and yawningly I +dressed. At nine I stood at the entrance of our hotel signalling +sleepily for a cab, and wilting already under the heat of the August +sun. While I waited, a tourist coach drew up at the curb. It was +gorgeous with red paint and conspicuous with large signs bearing the +lettering "A VERSAILLES." The driver remained on the box. The guide, +evidently there by appointment and sharply on time, leaped to the +sidewalk, glanced at his watch, snapped the case shut with a satisfied +nod, and stood with his eyes on the hotel entrance. One tiny black +figure came forth, greeted him with a blithe "Bongjure," and +intrepidly began the perilous ascent of the ladder he hastened to +place against the side of the coach for her convenience. It was Aunt +Nancy, dressed as she had been the night before, but immaculately +neat, and reflecting in her face the brightness of the morning. I +greeted her, and in her glad surprise at seeing me again she remained +suspended between earth and heaven to talk to me, incidentally +revealing the whole of two serviceable gaiters, the tiny ruffle of an +alpaca petticoat, and a long, flat section of gray-striped cotton +hose. + +"Well, well," she beamed. "Ain't this nice? Yes, I'm goin'. The rest +ain't ready yet, but I've been awake sence five, so I thought I'd come +right down an' watch the coach fill up. The men ain't goin'--they're +so tired, poor dears. Onri, my waiter, says every last one of 'em is +in bed yit. But some of the ladies that went up the Seen yesterday is +comin', so I guess we'll have a real nice party. We're goin' to see +the palace an' the Treenon first, an' then I'm goin' to the fair in +the village. Mr. Jackson says a French fair is real interestin', but +he ain't goin'. He said last night he had a great deal of work to do +in his room to-day, an' he guessed we wouldn't none of us see him till +dinner. Do you know"--she lowered her voice mysteriously and cast an +apprehensive eye about her as she went on--"Onri says Mr. Jackson's +asleep this very minute, an' it's most nine o'clock in the mornin'!" + +These startling revelations were checked by the appearance of two of +her fellow-tourists, and I seized the opportunity afforded by this +interruption to depart upon my uncongenial task. + +We did not see Aunt Nancy again until the morning of our third day in +Paris, when I ran across her in the galleries of the Luxembourg. She +was settled comfortably in a bright-red upholstered seat near the main +entrance, and on her wrinkled face was an expression of perfect peace. + +"Well, I'm glad to see you resting at last," was my greeting. + +"Yes, I'm restin'," she conceded. "I always do in the art galleries," +she added, simply, as I sat down beside her. "They've got the +comfort'blest chairs here of any, I think, though they was some nice +ones in Florence, too; an' in one of the places in Rome they was a +long seat where you could 'most lay down. I took a real nice nap +there. You see," she continued, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle out of +one lace mitt, "I don't know much about pictures, _anyway_, but I come +right along with the others, an' when I git here I jest set down an' +rest till they git through lookin' at 'em. I don't know what's +Michelangelo an' what _ain't_, an' 't seems to me it's too late to +find out now." + +Jessica appeared at this moment, and further revelations were checked +by greetings, followed almost immediately by our reluctant departure +to keep an appointment. Before we left, however, we learned that the +day at Versailles had been followed by an evening "at one of them +French kafes where women sing," and that fourteen hours of sight- +seeing in Paris itself had dispelled the threatened ennui of the +second day. + +Late that evening Mr. James George Jackson tottered to the side of +Jessica in the corridor of the Hotel D'Albany and addressed her, +wiping his brow as he did so. + +"It's the old lady," he said--"Aunt Nancy Wheeler, you know. She asked +me to ask you two ladies if you wouldn't like to join us in a drive +this evening. She wants to see how Paris looks at night, an' I've got +to show her." + +He swayed languidly against a pillar when we had accepted the +invitation, and groaned in reply to Jessica's tribute to the old +lady's activity. + +"She's active all right," he remarked, grimly. "If there's anything +left of _me_ after she gets through, it'll be because I've inherited an +iron constitution from my mother. She's worn out every other man in +the party weeks ago. The worst of it is that I don't know why she does +it. She really doesn't care about anything; I'm sure of that. But +she's got some object; so she goes from early morn till dewy eve, and +of course some one's got to go with her; we can't let her wander +around alone. Besides, what I'm afraid of is that she'll go all to +pieces some day--like the deacon's one-horse shay, you know, and there +won't be anything left but a little heap of alpaca clothes and +congress gaiters. She's worn out six pair of gaiters since we +started," he added, with a wail. "I know, because I've had to buy +them. _She_ hasn't had time." He shook his head mournfully as he +wandered away. + +Jessica and I bade Aunt Nancy an affecting farewell that night, as we +were leaving Paris the next day. For several weeks we heard no more of +her, but in Scotland we crossed her trail again. The Highlands were +full of rumors of an intrepid old dame who had "done" the lakes and +the Trossachs as apparently they had never been done before. Was she +an American? She was. Eighty years old, dressed in black, with a big +bonnet, steel-rimmed spectacles, and gaiters? All was correct but the +gaiters. Seemingly the gaiter supply had been exhausted by the +constant demand. She wore shoes with heavy soles and, our informant +added, happily, gray, striped stockings. From the rumors of her +achievements on land and water, Jessica and I glanced apprehensively +over the surface of Scotland, fearing to see it strewn with exhausted +boatmen, guides, and drivers; but apparently all her victims had +survived, though they bore as a souvenir of their experience with her +a haggard and hunted look which Jessica declared she could detect from +the top seat of the loftiest coach. + +Drifting down through Ireland we heard another echo of Aunt Nancy. She +had ridden on horseback through the Gap of Dunloe, no difficult feat +in itself, and one achieved daily during Kallarney's tourist season by +old ladies of various countries and creeds. In Aunt Nancy's case, +however, it appeared that she had been able to enjoy that variety +which is so gratifying a feature of human experience. Notwithstanding +the fact that she had never been on the back of a horse in her life, +she unerringly selected the freshest and most frolicsome of the Irish +ponies as her mount. It appears further that she was finally lifted to +the saddle of this animal as the result of a distinct understanding +between Mr. James George Jackson and her guide that the latter +gentleman was not only to accompany the lady every foot of the route, +but was meantime to cling valiantly to the bridle with both hands. +Unfortunately, this arrangement, so deeply satisfying to all, was not +ratified by the mettlesome Irish pony; the result being that, after +the guide had been swept off his feet by a sudden and unexpected lift +of the animal's forelegs, Aunt Nancy and the pony continued the +excursion alone. Judging from the terse words of one of the observers, +it must have been an exciting spectacle while it lasted, though it +passed all too rapidly beyond the line of the beholder's longing +vision. + +"Ye c'u'dn't tell," remarked this gentleman, sadly, in relating the +accident, "which was the harse an' which the auld lady, an' which the +Gap of Dunloe!" + +Excited pursuers did not "catch 'em," as they were urged to do by the +frenzied Mr. Jackson, but they were rewarded by finding various +portions of Aunt Nancy's wearing apparel scattered along the trail. +Items: one black bonnet, one cape, one handkerchief, one pair of +steel-rimmed spectacles. Apparently only those garments securely +fastened in place, such as shoes and lace mitts, had survived the +experience. Apparently, also, Aunt Nancy had made in almost unbroken +silence her exciting mountain ride. The exception seemingly occurred +somewhere in the Dark Valley, where a mountain woman, seeing her fly +by, had thoughtlessly urged her to stop and buy a glass of goat's +milk. The woman's memory of the encounter was slightly vague, it +having ended so abruptly, but she retained the impression that Aunt +Nancy had expressed an unusual degree of regret at being unable to +accept her invitation. + +"'Twasn't till thin I saw the poor harse was crazy wid fright, an' the +auld lady's close blowin' over his eyes," added the mountain woman, +sympathetically. "An' I couldn't do nathin', becuz, begorra, whin I +lifted me v'ice to call me big bye, the auld woman an' the harse was +half-way down the valley." + +Fortunately, five or six miles of this stimulating pace had a +blighting effect on the wild Hibernian spirits of the pony, with the +result that he and his rider ambled at a most sedate gait into the +space where the row-boats were waiting their passengers for Ross +Castle, and where the remaining members of the party were expected to +meet. The remaining members of the party, for obvious reasons, were +not yet there; and the long delay before their arrival gave Aunt Nancy +time to replace the missing articles of her apparel with garments +borrowed from the woman at the refreshment booth, and to eat a hearty +luncheon. Thus refreshed, she was ready for the fourteen-mile journey +in a row-boat to Ross Castle, which was the next item on the programme +of the day; and she made it that afternoon, notwithstanding the almost +hysterical expostulations of Mr. James George Jackson. + +It was not until we sailed for America that we looked again into Aunt +Nancy's dauntless eyes. She was the first passenger we saw when we +reached the deck of the Columbia, and her joy in the encounter was as +deep as our own. We chatted for a moment, and then she darted off to +greet various members of her party from whom side excursions had +temporarily separated her. + +The sea was slumberously calm, bathed in hazy autumnal sunshine. +Light-hearted men and women in white linen and pale flannel costumes +strolled about the decks explaining to one another what good sailors +they were, and how they hoped the sea would not remain monotonously +smooth. + +"One wants a little life and swing on a ship," explained one fat, +blond man on whose face we were even then looking, though we knew it +not, for the last time in seven sad days. To a unit the passengers +poured into the dining-saloon at the first call for luncheon. To a +unit they consumed everything on the bill of fare. All was peace and +appetite. + +That afternoon the sea roused herself drowsily, turned over, and +yawned. The blue waves of the morning were gone. In their place were +huge, oily, black swells, which lazily lifted the _Columbia_, held her +suspended for a long minute, and then with slow, shuddering reluctance +let her down, down, down. An interesting young Scotchman who was +sitting by Jessica's side on deck stopped suddenly in the midst of an +impassioned tribute to the character of Robert Brace, looked in her +face for an instant with eyes full of a horrible fear, and hastily +joined a stout German in a spirited foot-race to the nearest +companionway. A High-church English divine, who had met me half an +hour before and had hastened to spare me future heartaches by +explaining at once that he was married, rose abruptly from his chair +beside me and wobbled uncertainly to the deck-rail, where he hung +suspended in an attitude of pathetic resignation. Thus recalled to the +grim realities of life, Jessica and I looked up and down the deck. It +was deserted--deserted save for a little black figure that trotted +rapidly past us, clutching occasionally at the empty air for support +as she was hurled from one side to the other of the glistening deck, +but cheerful, undaunted, and happy. + +"I got to have some exercise," panted Aunt Nancy, as she reclined for +an instant in my lap, where a lurch of the ship had deposited her; "so +I'm takin' a little walk." She was still walking when Jessica and I +retreated hurriedly to our cabin. + +The days that followed are too sad to be described by the most +sympathetic pen. The sea, moved to her uttermost depths as she had not +been in twenty-five years, resented fiercely the presence of the +Columbia on her disturbed bosom. Madly she cast her from her; with +feline treachery she drew her back again, and sought to tear apart her +mighty timbers. Groaningly, agonizingly, pluckily, the Columbia bore +all--and revenged herself on her passengers. She stood on her head, +and sent them, so to speak, into her prow. She rose up on her stern, +and scattered them aft. She stood still and shuddered. She lay down on +her left side until she had imperilled the heart action of every +person on board; she rolled over on her right side and started briskly +toward the bottom of the sea. She recovered herself, leaped up and +down a few times to prove that she was still intact, and did it all +over again. Meanwhile the passengers, locked below and sternly +commanded to keep to their cabins, held fast to the sides of their +berths and prayed fervently for death. + +Neither Jessica nor I was actively ill, but Jessica's indifference to +food and social intercourse was marked in the extreme. Stretched on +her back in the berth opposite my own, she lay day and night with +closed eyes and forbidding demeanor, rousing herself only long enough +to repel fiercely any suggestion that she take nourishment. Also, she +furnished me with one life-long memory. From sheer ennui I ordered and +devoured at noon on the third day a large portion of steamed peach +dumpling, with hard sauce. The look which Jessica cast first upon this +dish and then upon me will always, I think, remain the dominant +feature of my most troubled dreams. + +During this time I had not forgotten Aunt Nancy, though I am sure +Jessica had. Her cabin, however, while on the same deck as our own, +was at the other end of the ship, and I had grave doubts of my ability +to cover safely the distance between. Finally I attempted it, and, +aside from the slight incidents of blacking one eye in an unexpected +diversion to the rail, and subsequently being hurled violently against +the back of an axe nailed to the wall, I made the passage in safety. +Aunt Nancy was not in her cabin, but a hollow groan from the upper +berth betrayed the fact that her room-mate was. From this lady I was +unfortunately unable to extract any information. She seemed to feel +that I was mercifully sent to chloroform her out of existence, and her +disappointment over my failure to play this Samaritan role was so +bitter that I was forced to withdraw lest she should utter things +unbefitting a gentlewoman. + +Down the long corridor, as I groped my way back, something blew toward +me like a wraith from the sea. It wore a gray, woolly bathrobe, a tiny +wisp of white hair fastened precariously with one hair-pin, and a pair +of knitted bedroom slippers. It was Aunt Nancy, and we executed then +and there an intricate pas de deux in our common efforts to meet. +Finally the Columbia ceased her individual evolutions long enough to +enable us to grasp the passage-rail. + +"I've been in your cabin," I explained, above the roar of wave and +wind, as we stood facing each other. "I was afraid you were ill." + +Aunt Nancy looked almost pained at such a suspicion. + +"My, no," she disavowed, hastily; "but there's them that is," she +conceded. "I've been to see--let me see--thirty of 'em to-day--men an' +women both. Poor Mr. Jackson's about the worst. I never SEE such a +sick man. I got this cracked ice for him," she added, looking down at +the glass she was clasping to her bosom with her free hand. "I'd 'a' +looked in on you," she added, kindly, "if I hadn't been so busy, but I +heard you wa'n't neither of you sick." + +I explained with some effort that I felt comfortable as long as I lay +still, but that as soon as I was on my feet, the motion--We parted +hurriedly. + +On the morning of the sixth day Jessica turned over in her berth, +removed from her spine a fork which had seemingly been there all the +week, regarded it with strong disfavor, and announced briefly that she +was going above. We went. The decks were still wet, and the steamer- +chairs were securely lashed in place. The sky was gray and lowering, +but the sea had sulkily subsided, showing its continued resentment of +the whole experience only in the upheaval of an occasional wave which +broke over the ship-rail and perished at our feet. As the hours +passed, pale wraiths appeared at the companionways, supported one +another feebly to the nearest chairs, sank into them, and veiled their +faces from one another's gaze. They seemed the ghosts of the happy men +and women who had come on board the Columbia six long days ago. +Languidly as the hours passed they revived and confided to one another +the simple record of the voyage. No, they had not been ill. It was, +indeed, singular how few of them had been disturbed by the voyage, +though they had all noticed that it was rough. But they had been +injured by being knocked about or thrown from their berths, or they +had been caring for friends or relatives who were ill. Several of them +paused at my side on their way to and from their cabins to indulge in +these artless confidences. It remained, however, for Aunt Nancy to +make the most interesting of all. + +She came along the deck about five in the afternoon and dropped with +serene satisfaction into the empty steamer-chair at my right. She was +fully dressed in the inevitable black, even to her wide bonnet. With a +sigh of pleasure she folded her mittened hands and began to talk. + +"It's been real interestin'," she said. "I must say I'm 'most sorry to +have it over. I want to go to Europe again in two years; I ain't +really enjoyed this trip very much; but when I come again I think I'll +like it better, now that I know it. But of course at my age one can't +really be sure one can come again." + +She sank into silence for a moment, looking down at the mittened hands +in her lap. Then her face brightened, and she turned to me again with +her old, alert eagerness of expression. + +"I dunno why I shouldn't come, though," she added, cheerfully. "I'm +real well. Before I left home I was some worried. I didn't seem to be +as strong as I used to be. That's why I come--to build up my health +an' git strong. Lots of folks has wondered why I come, I guess, an' +that was it, though I ain't told no one till now. I guess I did +improve, too, for the stewardess told me with her own lips only this +mornin' that she thought I was a healthy woman. But of course," she +added, with lowly humility, "I can't do what I did when I was young." + +I was speechless. The Columbia paused on the top of a wave, hesitated +a moment, and sailed unsteadily onward. With eyes filled with a solemn +content, Aunt Nancy gazed out over the cold, wet sea. + + + + +IX + +THE HENRY SMITHS' HONEYMOON + + +When Jacob West suggested to Henry Smith that the latter's honeymoon +should be spent in New York, Mr. Smith's ruddy countenance paled at +the audacity of the words, and Miss Maria Tuttle, his fiancee, gasped +audibly for breath. Unconsciously they clasped hands, as if better to +meet together the rude shock of the moment; and seated side by side on +the rustic bench which adorned the small veranda of the Tuttle +homestead, they gazed helplessly at the speaker. Slowly and with the +stiffness of age Jacob sat down on the steps below them and looked up +at their startled faces with a twinkle in his dim old eyes. His +enjoyment of the moment was intense. + +"Why not?" he demanded, cajolingly and argumentatively. "Ain't yeh old +enough t' have a good time? Ain't yeh waited long enough? Ain't yeh"-- +he turned directly to Maria--"bin nursin' yer poor mother fer six +years past an' wearin' yerself out, an' ain't yeh bin sewin' day an' +night fer three months, ever sence she died, t' git ready t' marry +Henry?" He drew a long breath of gratification over the respectful +silence which greeted these adroit points, and went on with hortatory +sympathy. "Yeh bin a good daughter, Maria. They ain't no better in +Clayton Centre. Yeh deserve th' best they is. Now be good t' yerself +an' Henry. Let him take yeh to New York an' give yeh a good time on +the weddin' tower." + +Miss Tuttle blushed faintly. She was forty-five, and looked ten years +older. She was a tired, worn out, faded little woman, drained of her +youth and vitality by the hourly exactions of the fault-finding +invalid mother whom she had so recently laid away in the church-yard +with unselfish filial tears. But there was something attractive in the +sweet patience of her thin face, and the look in her brown eyes as she +turned them on her faithful middle-aged lover was one of the trump +cards her sex has played since Eve first used it as she accompanied +Adam to the gate out of paradise. In her embarrassment she laughed a +little, consciously. + +"Mebbe Henry don't want to go," she began. "He ain't said nothing +about New York." + +Henry whirled abruptly till he faced her on the rustic seat. + +"Go! You bet I want to go!" he ejaculated, with fervor. "Don't I just-- +you bet I do. Say, Maria"--he fumbled nervously with the thin hand he +still held in his own--"say, let's go." + +Jacob West cackled delightedly. "That's the talk!" he cried, his thin, +high tones taking on a shriller note in his excitement. "You jest do +it, Henry! You make her! Neither of yeh'll be sorry, I swan!" + +They sat silent, reflecting, and the old fellow rose slowly and +painfully, instinctive delicacy telling him that, having done his +part, it behooved him to leave them alone to solve for themselves the +question he had raised. It was hard to go, but he went, chuckling +reminiscently as he recalled the excited look on their faces and +pictured the lively debate which would follow his departure. + +It was a warm October evening, and the little village lay silent under +the early stars. A light wind sang a droning lullaby in the grove of +pines back of the Tuttle home, and a few belated birds twittered +sleepily in near-by trees. Unconsciously Maria voiced the subtle charm +of the hour when she spoke. + +"I dunno, Henry," she said, lingeringly--"I dunno's I feel to go. +Seems like we ought to be content to stay right here, where it's so +quiet an' restful." + +Her eyes roamed lovingly down the garden paths, lingering on trees and +shrubs planted by Tuttle hands now a part of earth themselves. "I'm so +glad you're comin' here," she sighed, happily. "I don't b'lieve you +know yet how glad I am, Henry--not t' leave the old place." + +He waived the discussion of this side interest, already settled +between them. + +"It'll be jest as nice when we come back from New York," he argued, +logically, "an' jest as quiet." + +The feminine intellect beside him took another tack on the sea of +uncertainty with which old Jacob had surrounded it. + +"Mebbe we can't afford it," she hazarded. "Prices is very high in New +York, Henry. Joseph Hadley's daughter went there four years ago with +her aunt, and she told me with her own lips they had to pay a dollar a +day for their room at the hotel, without no meals. The hotel man +wanted seventy-five cents apiece for dinner, so they paid it once a +day an' the rest of the time they went into lunch-rooms an' had milk +an' crackers. But with one dollar for the room, and another dollar 'n' +a half for dinner, an' the crackers an' milk besides, they spent 'most +twenty dollars the very first week. They had to come right straight +home, 'n' they'd meant to stay two weeks." + +Henry Smith's strong jaw set rather obstinately. + +"I guess we won't have to come home till we git ready," he remarked, +easily, "an' I guess we'll git our three meals a day, too. I don't see +myself eatin' no milk an' crackers, nor you, neither. I guess I 'ain't +bin savin' all these years, with a good carpenter business, without +gittin' somethin' ahead. Say, 'Ria"--it was he who blushed now, his +round face close to hers--"yeh can have anything yeh want. I'm that +glad t' git yeh at last, I'd spend all I have!" + +Her thin hand responded for an instant to the pressure of his and then +coyly withdrew itself. She had few words at any time and none in +moments of emotion, but he knew her and was satisfied. + +"You've bin so good, Henry," she said, at last; "you've bin awful +patient all these years. Fur's I'm concerned, I'd as lief stay here's +anywhere, but if you want to go t' New York, I--I--want to do what yeh +say." + +"Then we'll go," he said, quietly; and the great question was settled. + +When Mr. and Mrs. Henry Smith arrived in New York on the evening of +their wedding-day, it is doubtful which of them was the more dazed and +frightened by the bustle and confusion at the Grand Central station. +Maria had at least the support of her husband's nearness to sustain +her, and the comparative peace of mind of the one who, though facing +untoward conditions, is without personal responsibility; but Henry +experienced, in addition to his self-distrust, a sickening fear of +failure in her presence. He was conscious of two dominant thoughts. +Whatever happened, he must take care of his wife and spurn the +advances of agreeable strangers. Also he and she must be transported +by hack to the hotel they had chosen, without parting with the savings +of years for the ride. He had heard of the extortions of cabmen. He +bargained fiercely with a too-zealous independent who had already +grasped his hand-bag and was leading the way to his cab, past the more +inexpensive cabs supplied by the railroad company. + +"You don't git one cent more'n two dollars for taking us, I can tell +you that," announced Henry Smith, firmly but breathlessly, as he +climbed clumsily into the cab after his wife. The hotel was in the +fifties, and the cabman had intended to charge a dollar for the ride. +He promptly protested against Mr. Smith's offer, however, inquiring +anxiously if the gentleman wished an honest cabman's family to go +supperless to bed. It appeared that the gentleman was indifferent to +the fate of the cabman's family. + +"You'll do it for two dollars or you'll let us git out," was his final +word. As one overcome by superior force, the cabman yielded, climbed +sulkily to his perch, and, bestowing a large, comprehensive wink upon +the by-standers, started for the hotel his fare had indicated. Mr. +Smith's spirits rose. Obviously, in this triumph he had demonstrated +his fitness to cope with all the other grinding monopolies of New +York. He smiled proudly at his wife as they drove toward Broadway, and +his confidence grew as he discovered that he recognized the Times +Building at the first glance and could also recognize the Hotel Astor +by its resemblance to the picture of it in the Clayton Centre Weekly. +At one point in their progress up-town the cab was caught in a crush +of vehicles and Mrs. Henry Smith was privileged, for the first time in +her life, to listen to the untrammelled conversation of New York +cabmen on an occasion when they set their moral shoulders against +congested traffic, knowing that it helps THEM, at all events. She +shuddered and clung to Henry's arm. It was all too plain that they +were in the vortex of godlessness, but even as the realization of this +was borne to her on the winged speech of the driver, Mrs. Smith was +conscious of an inward thrill. It was awful, but it was life--not life +as lived in Clayton Centre, but certainly a life that already gained +in excitement and interest from that fact. Unconsciously craning her +thin neck farther out of the cab window, she drank in with a fearful +joy the roar and excitement of Broadway, the shouts of drivers, the +clang of trolley-cars. Her faded eyes gleamed as she saw the brilliant +lights of the great thoroughfare whose illuminated signs met her +glance at every turn. + +Arrived at the hotel, the cabman accepted the two dollars, dumped the +bride's trunk on the sidewalk, and drove off with an alacrity designed +to prevent any further discussion of rates. Mr. Smith surrendered his +hand-bag to the bell-boy who was reaching out impatient hands for it, +grasped his wife's arm, and, following his small guide, walked firmly +into the presence of the hotel clerk. It was a trying moment for him +as he dragged that aloof personality down to his level, but details +were arranged with surprising ease, barring so strange a lack of +sympathy. As soon as he had expressed his few and simple wishes he +found himself and his wife being guided to a lift, and with wonderful +simplicity put in possession of a comfortable room on the third floor. +Here the shades were drawn down, a pitcher of ice-water was hospitably +placed on the stand, and a cheery fire was started on the small +hearth. Over this last extravagance the bride faintly demurred, but +Henry silenced her with his simple grandeur of insistence. It was a +cool November evening, and he had noticed that she shivered in her +thin wrap as they drove up-town. + +"I jest intend makin' yeh comfortable," he announced, masterfully. + +It was something of an ordeal to go down to dinner half an hour later, +but they met it bravely, walking stiffly into the crowded dining-room, +and looking to neither the right nor the left as they followed the +headwaiter to their places. The discovery that they had exclusive +possession of a small table was a matter of joyful surprise to them +both, on which they freely commented. The daintiness of the linen, the +gleam of silver, the perfection of the service, and the soft glow of +candles under silk shades, filled their simple country souls with awe. +It suggested unconjectured expense with a tang of wickedness as well. +Off in an alcove, screened by palms, an orchestra played with +considerate softness. Mr. Smith smiled a large, expansive smile and +leaned back in his chair. The moment was perfect. His apprehensions +were over for the time. Maria was with him, she was his, and he was +giving her all this. Could an Astor or a Vanderbilt offer more to the +woman of his heart? Henry Smith looked at the plush and gilding about +him, and read his answer. + +He experienced a rude awakening. A silent waiter stood beside him, +offering for his inspection an elaborate menu. The letters danced +before his eyes as Henry looked at them. What did they mean, anyhow, +and how did one pick out what one wanted, he wondered. Or, perchance, +was one expected gracefully to consume everything? His momentary self- +sufficiency died on the instant, and sickening fears of making a +mistake before Maria's eyes again overcame him. A great longing filled +him to appear to advantage, to do the thing properly, whatever it was. +On a sudden inspiration he leaned toward the waiter. + +"Say," he said, confidentially, "you jest bring us two good dinners-- +the best of everything you've got--and I'll make it all right with +yeh." He surveyed the waiter's face anxiously as he spoke, his own +clearing as it remained quietly respectful. + +"Very well, sir; certainly, sir," said the servant, promptly. "Oysters +first, sir, I suppose, and a little green-turtle soup; a bit of fish, +perhaps--we've some very nice sole in to-day, sir; a bird--the +partridge and grouse are excellent, sir; a salad, and an ice. Any +wine, sir? No, sir? Yes, sir." He was gone, and Mr. Smith wiped his +perspiring brow. Maria was gazing at him with simple love and trust. + +"I declare, Henry," she murmured, "you do it all just 's if you'd be'n +doin' it every day of your life. Where'd you learn?" + +Mr. Smith made a vague gesture repudiating the charge, but his face +shone and he sat straighter in his chair. He dared not boast, for he +knew there were crucial moments coming, but so far there had been no +catastrophes and his courage grew with each achievement. When Maria +looked doubtfully at her oysters, and, joyfully recognizing them, +wondered audibly why they were not made into a stew instead of being +presented in this semi-nude condition, he was able, after a piercing +glance at near-by tables, to set her right with easy authority. + +"They eat 'em this way in New York," he said, swallowing one himself +and endeavoring, with indifferent success, to look as if he liked it. +Maria followed his example, rather gingerly and not as one who +ventures on a new joy. Her interest remained equally vague when the +soup and fish successively appeared. When the partridge was served, +however, with bread sauce and French pease and currant jelly, the +gratifying experience of finally "having something really on the +plate" moved her to alert appreciation, and she proceeded to eat her +dinner with an expression of artless and whole-souled relief. She was +able to point out to Henry, as a bit of prandial small-talk, that the +orchestra was playing "Nancy Brown"--a classic ditty whose notes had +reached even Clayton Centre. It was at this stimulating point of the +dinner, also, that she felt privileged for the first time to remove +her gloves, glance at the other tables and the clothes of the women, +and talk freely to her husband. Hitherto she had "conversed" under +pressure. + +The waiter, offering her a second helping of jelly, saw, shining in +her hair, several grains of rice. The discovery exhilarated but did +not surprise him. His mien was one of fatherly interest five minutes +later as he presented a small bottle for Mr. Smith's inspection. + +"Champagne, sir," he murmured. "Not too dry for the lady's taste, sir. +Thought you'd like a glass--special occasion, sir--" + +His eloquence died away under the startled look in the bride's eyes, +but the groom met his happy suggestion with warm approval. + +"Jest the thing," he said, heartily. "It'll do you good, Maria. +Doctors give it when people ain't well, so you can take it 'thout any +fear. 'N' I guess you're feelin' pretty well, ain't you?" he grinned, +broadly, over this flash of humor. + +He motioned to the waiter to fill her glass, and that worthy did so +and retired behind her to give his courteous attention to the effect. + +They drank their champagne, and a faint color came to Maria's pale +cheeks. It was really a nice place, this hotel, she decided, and the +furnishing of this room was such as palaces might cope with in vain. +She had heard of their glories; now she could guess what those glories +were. The voices of other guests chatting around her mingled with the +music; Clayton Centre seemed very remote. At last she was seeing life. + +She felt no embarrassment as they left the table. They strolled slowly +down the dining-room and out into the palm-lined corridor on whose +plush chairs handsome men and beautifully dressed women sat and +chatted with surprising volubility and ease. Intrepidly the newcomers +seated themselves side by side where they could listen to the music +and watch the strange beings in this strange world. They were out of +it all, and even in the exhilaration of the moment they knew it; but +their aloofness from others added to the charm of the evening by +drawing them closer together. They gloried in the joint occupation of +their little island of happiness. For a long time they sat there, for +Maria could not be torn away. The music, the costumes and beauty of +the women, the delicate perfumes, the frequent ringing of bells, the +hurrying back and forth of bell-boys and hotel servants, were +indescribably fascinating to her. + +The next morning Mr. Smith, sternly recalling himself to the material +side of life, had a brief but pregnant chat with the clerk. He and his +wife wished to stay a few days at the hotel, he intimated, but it +would be advisable, before making their plans, to go somewhat into the +question of expense. How much, for instance, was their dinner last +night. He had signed a check, but his memory was hazy as to the +amount. His brain reeled when the clerk, having looked it up, gave him +the figures--$10.85. + +"Good Lord!" gasped Mr. Henry Smith. "I guess we'd better go back to- +day ef it's goin' to be THAT much!" + +He was too limp mentally to follow for a time the clerks remarks, but +light gradually broke upon him. He could henceforth take table d'hote +meals, paying sixty cents each for breakfast and luncheon for himself +and his wife, and one dollar each for their dinner. That would be only +four dollars and forty cents a day for all meals--and would make the +hotel bills much less than if one ordered by card, unless one was--er +--familiar with the prices. It was much less trouble, too. Mr. Smith +grasped the point and expansively shook the clerk's hand. His relief +was so great that he urged that youth to have a cigar, and the youth +in return volunteered information as to points of interest to +strangers in New York. + +"Better do the town to-day," he suggested. "Just go round and get a +general view--Broadway, Fifth Avenue, the shops, and all that. Then +to-night you'd better go to the play. I think you'd enjoy 'The White +Cat' as much as anything." + +Armed with definite information as to the most direct route to +Broadway, Mr. Smith sought his bride. He found her in the corridor, +watching the people come and go, her thin face flushed and animated. + +"Oh, Henry," she cried, eagerly, "I declare I'm having the most +interestin' time! Those folks over there--you know, the ones that has +the room next to ours--ain't spoke to each other sence breakfast. Do +you think they've quarrelled, the poor dears?" + +He gave but perfunctory attention to "the poor dears," his duties as +prospective cicerone filling his thoughts. Maria's face fell as he +outlined their plans for the day. + +"Well, if you feel to go, Henry," she said, doubtfully, "but it's SO +interestin' here. I feel 's if I knew all these folks. I wish we could +stay here this mornin', anyhow, 'n' not git out in those dreadful +crowded streets jest yet." + +He sat down beside her with a promptness which evoked a startled +shriek from an absorbed young person reading near them. + +"Then we'll stay right here," he announced, kindly. "We're here, 'Ria, +to do jest what you want, an' we're goin' to do it." + +She gave him an adoring look, and under its radiance Mr. Smith +promptly forgot the small claims of Broadway. Siberia with Maria in it +would have blossomed like the rose for Henry Smith, and the wide, +cheerful corridors of the Berkeley were far removed from Siberia's +atmosphere. Side by side and blissfully happy, they whiled the morning +hours away. After luncheon Henry again tentatively touched on sight- +seeing. + +"'Tain't far," he said. He consulted the slip of directions the clerk +had given him, and went on expansively, "We take the cross-town line +at Fifty-ninth Street, transfer to a Broadway car--" + +Maria shivered. "My, Henry," she quavered, "that sounds dreadful +mixed. I'm afraid we'll get lost." + +Henry's own soul was full of dark forebodings, and he inwardly +welcomed the respite her words gave him. + +"Well, then, don't let's go," he said, easily, "till to-morrow, +anyhow. We got plenty o' time. We'll stay here, an' to-night we'll go +to see a play." + +Like the morning, the afternoon passed sweetly. Henry made the +discovery that the hotel cafe at the right of the reception-room was a +popular resort for men guests of the hotel, and his researches into +their pleasures led to an introduction to a Manhattan cocktail. He +returned to Maria's side an ardent convert to her theory that the +hotel was the pleasantest place in New York. Subsequently, as he +sampled a Martini, one or two men chatted with him for a moment, +giving him a delightful sense of easy association with his peers. +Maria, in the mean time, had formed a pleasing acquaintance with the +parlor maid, and had talked freely to several little children. It was +with reluctance that they tore themselves away from the corridor long +enough to go in to dinner. + +The table d'hote dinner, served in another room, was much less +elaborate than the banquet of the night before, but neither of them +realized the difference. Good in itself, to them it was perfection, +and Maria recognized almost as old friends familiar faces of fellow +hotel guests at the tables around her. When the question of the +theatre came up she was distinctly chilling. + +"We'll go if you want to, Henry," she said, "but the band's goin' to +play all evening, an' the maid said some of the young folks has got up +a dance in the little ball-room. Wouldn't you like to see it?" + +Henry decided that he would. He had, in fact, no rabid wish to see a +play, and the prospect of piloting Maria safely to the centre of the +town and home was definitely strenuous. He drank another cocktail +after dinner, smoked a cigar with a Western travelling man, exchanged +sage views on politics with that gentleman, and happily spent the +remainder of the evening by his Maria's side, watching the whirling +young things in the small ball-room. The happiest of them were sad, +indeed, compared with Henry Smith. + +The next morning the cheerful voice of the clerk greeted him as he +came from the dining-room. + +"Where to-day, Mr. Smith?" inquired that affable youth. "How about the +Horse Show? You surely ought to look in on that." He wrote on a card +explicit directions for arriving at the scene of this diversion, and +Mr. Smith, gratefully accepting it, hastened to his bride's side. He +found her full of another project. + +"Oh, Henry," she cried, "they's going to be a lecture here in the +hotel this mornin', by a lady that's been to Japan. All the money she +gets for tickets will go to the poor. I guess she'll ask as much as +twenty-five cents apiece, but I think we better go." + +Sustained by a cocktail, and strengthened by the presence of his +Maria, Mr. Smith attended the lecture, cheerfully paying two dollars +for the privilege, but refraining from dampening his wife's joy by +mentioning the fact. In the afternoon he broached the Horse Show. +Maria's face paled. To her it meant an exaggerated county fair, with +its attendant fatigue. + +"You go, Henry," she urged. "You jest go an' enjoy yourself. I feel +too tired--I really do. I'd rather stay home--here--an' rest. We don't +really have to do nothing we don't want to, do we?" + +Honest Henry Smith, whose working-day in Clayton Centre began at five +in the morning and ended at six at night, and whose evenings were +usually spent in the sleep of utter exhaustion, found himself relaxing +deliciously under her words. It was good, very good, to rest, and to +know they didn't HAVE to do things unless they wished. + +"I won't, neither, go alone," he announced. "I ain't anxious to go. +I'd ruther stay here with you. We'll go some other time." + +The white-capped maid smiled as she passed them; the palms nodded as +to old friends. The seductive charms of the Berkeley corridors again +wrapped them round. + +"Going to see some of the pictures to-day?" asked the clerk, on the +third morning, cheerfully doing his duty by the strangers as he +conceived it. "Better go to Central Park first and the Metropolitan +Museum, then to the private exhibitions. Here's the list. Take a +cross-town car to Fifth Avenue, and a 'bus to Eighty-first Street, and +after the Park a Fifth Avenue 'bus will drop you at the other places." + +Apprehension settled over Henry Smith, rudely disturbing his lotos- +eater's sense of being. He felt almost annoyed by this well-meaning +but indefatigable young man who seemed to think folks should be +gadding all the time. His manner was unresponsive as he took the +addresses. + +"I'll see what my wife says," he remarked, indifferently. + +His wife said what he believed and hoped she would say. + +"We ain't goin' home till to-morrow afternoon," she observed, "an' we +can see Central Park to-morrow mornin' if we want to. They's a woman +here that does up hair for fifty cents, an' I thought if yeh didn't +mind, Henry, I'd have her do mine--" + +Henry urged her to carry out this happy inspiration. "She can't make +yeh look any nicer, though," he added, gallantly. Then, as Maria +surrendered herself and their room to the hairdresser's ministrations, +he visited the bar, chatted with his friend the clerk, and smoked a +good cigar. Afterward he selected a comfortable chair in the corridor +where he was to meet Maria, stretched his long legs, dozed, and found +it good to be alive. + +A befrizzled Maria, whose scant hair stood out in startling Marcel +waves, confronted him at luncheon-time. A sudden inspiration shook him +to his depths. + +"Don't you want to go down-town and have your picture took?" he urged. +"Let's have ours done together." + +Maria was proof against even this lure. She had a better idea. + +"They's a photograph man right here in the hotel," she chirped, +joyously. "He's next to the flower-shop, an' we can go right in +through that little narrow hall." + +They went, subsequently carrying home with them as their choicest +treasure the cabinet photograph for which they had posed side by side, +with the excitement of New York life shining in their honest eyes. In +the evening the clerk suggested a concert. + +"It's a fine one, at Carnegie Hall, right near here," he urged, +cheerfully, "and Sembrich is to sing, with the Symphony Orchestra. You +can get in for fifty cents if you don't mind sitting in the gallery. +You really ought to go, Mrs. Smith; you would enjoy it." + +Mrs. Smith turned upon him an anxious eye. + +"How far did you say 'twas?" she asked, warily. + +"Oh, not ten minutes' ride. You take the car here at the corner--" + +But the mention of the car blighted the budding purpose in Maria's +soul. + +"I feel real tired," she said, quickly, "but if my husband wants to +go--" + +Her husband loudly disavowed any such aspiration. + +"We got a long journey before us to-morrow," he said, "an' I guess we +better rest." + +They rested in the Berkeley corridor, amid the familiar sights and +scenes. The following morning found them equally disinclined for +sight-seeing. Seated in their favorite chairs, they watched the +throngs of happy people who came and went around them. Henry had added +to the list of his acquaintances two more travelling men and the boy +at the news-counter. His wife had heard in detail the sad story of her +chambermaid's life, and a few facts and surmises about fellow-guests +at the hotel. + +Maria drew a long sigh when, after they had paid their bill the next +day and bade farewell to the clerk and other new friends, they climbed +into the cab which was to take them to the station. + +"My, but it was interestin'!" she said, softly; adding, with entire +conviction, "Henry, I 'ain't never had such a good time in my hull +life! I really 'ain't!" + +"Neither have I," avowed Henry, truthfully. "Wasn't it jest bully!" + +On the train a sudden thought occurred to Mrs. Smith. + +"Henry," she began, uneasily, "s'pose any one asks what we've SEEN in +New York. What'll we tell 'em? You know, somehow we didn't seem t' git +time t' see much." + +Henry Smith was equal to the emergency. + +"We'll say we seen so much we can't remember it," he said, +shamelessly. "Don't you worry one bit about that, Maria Smith. I've +always heard that weddin' couples don't never really see nothin' on +their weddin' towers, anyhow--they gad an' gad, an' it don't do no +good. We was wiser not to try!" + + + + + X + +THE CASE OF KATRINA + + +My memory of Katrina goes back to the morning when, at the tender age +of ten, she was violently precipitated into our classroom. The motive +power, we subsequently learned, was her brother Jacob, slightly older +than Katrina, whose nervous system had abruptly refused the ordeal of +accompanying her into the presence of the teacher. Pushing the door +ajar until the opening was just large enough to admit her, he thrust +her through, following her fat figure for a second with one anxious +eye and breathing audibly in his excitement. The next instant the +cheerful clatter of his hob-nailed boots echoed down the hall, +followed by a whoop of relief as he emerged upon the playground. + +It was Katrina's bearing as she stood, thus rudely projected into our +lives, endeavoring to recover her equilibrium, and with thirty pairs +of eyes fixed unswervingly upon her, that won my heart and Jessica's. +Owing to a fervid determination of our teacher to keep us well in +view, we sat in the front row, directly facing her. Having, even in +our extreme youth, a constitutional distaste to missing anything, we +undoubtedly stared at Katrina longer and harder than any of the +others. We smiled, too, largely and with the innocent abandon of +childhood; and Katrina smiled back at us as if she also tasted a +subtle flavor of the joke, lost to cruder palates. Then she shifted +her tiny school-bag from one hand to the other, swept the room with a +thoughtful glance, and catching sight of frantic gestures I was +making, obeyed them by walking casually to an empty seat across from +my own, where she sat down with deepening dimples and an air of +finality. + +Several moments subsequently our teacher, Miss Merrill, aroused +herself from the trance into which she apparently had been thrown by +the expeditiousness with which this incident was accomplished, and +coming to Katrina's side, ratified the arrangement, incidentally +learning the new pupil's name and receiving from her hand a card, +written by the principal and assigning her to our special grade. But +long before these insignificant details were completed, Jessica and I +had emptied Katrina's bag, arranged her books in her desk, lent her a +pencil she lacked, indicated to her the boy most to be scorned and +shunned, given her in pantomime the exact standing of Miss Merrill in +the regard of her pupils, and accepted in turn the temporary loan of +the spruce-gum with which she had happily provided herself. At recess +the acquaintance thus auspiciously begun ripened into a warm +friendship, and on the way home from school that night we made a +covenant of eternal loyalty and love, and told one another the stories +of our lives. + +Jessica's and mine were distressingly matter-of-fact. We were both +supplied with the usual complement of parents, brothers, and sisters, +and, barring the melancholy condition that none of them, of course, +understood our complex natures, we had nothing unusual to chronicle. +But Katrina's recital was of an interest. She was, to begin with, an +orphan, living with two brothers and an old uncle in a large and +gloomy house we had often noticed as it stood with its faded back +turned coldly to Evans Avenue. Seemingly her pleasures and friends +were few. Once a month she went to the cemetery to put flowers on her +father's and mother's graves. Katrina herself seemed uncertain as to +whether this pilgrimage properly belonged in the field of pleasure or +the stern path of duty; but Jessica and I classified it at once, and +dropped an easy tear. We hoped her uncle was grim and stern, and did +not give her enough to eat. This, we felt, would have made the +melancholy picture of Katrina's condition most satisfyingly complete. +But when we sought eagerly for such details, Katrina, with shameless +indifference to dramatic possibilities, painted for us an unromantic, +matter-of-fact old German, kind to her when he remembered her +existence, but submerged in his library and in scientific research. We +further learned that they ate five meals a day at Katrina's home, with +"coffee" and numerous accompaniments in between. Moreover, Katrina's +school-bag bulged at the sides with German cakes of various shapes and +composition. Our stern disapproval of these was tempered in time by +the fact that she freely shared them with us. We were not surprised to +discover also, though these revelations came later, that the old +house-keeper had difficulty in keeping buttons on the child's frocks, +and that Katrina was addicted to surreptitious consumption of large +cucumber pickles behind her geography in school hours. These were +small faults of an otherwise beautiful nature, and stimulating to our +youthful fancy in the possibilities they suggested. Unquestioningly we +accepted Katrina as a being to be loved, pitied, and spared the ruder +shocks of life. Lovingly we sharpened her pencils, cheerfully we +covered her books, unenthusiastically but patiently we wrote her +compositions; for Katrina's mind worked slowly, and literature was +obviously not her forte. In return, Katrina blossomed and existed and +shed on us the radiance of a smile which illumined the dim school-room +even as her optimistic theories of life leavened our infant pessimism. + +Time swept us on, out of childhood school-rooms into the dignified +shades of the academy, and Katrina developed from a fat little girl +with yellow braids into a plump young person with a rather ordinary +complexion, some taste in dress, and a really angelic smile. As a +possible explanation of her lack of interest in intellectual pursuits, +she explained to us that she continued to attend school only because +her uncle suggested nothing else. Whatever the reason, we were glad to +have her there; and though we still did most of her work, and she +carefully refrained from burdening her mind with academic knowledge, +the tie between us was strengthened, if anything, by the fact. Jessica +and I were already convinced that more was being put into us than two +small heads could hold. It was a grateful as well as a friendly task +to pass the surplus on to Katrina. + +When we were seventeen, Jessica and I were told that we were to be +sent East to college, and Katrina's uncle, first stimulating thought +by pushing his spectacles back upon his brow, decided that she was +already sufficiently burdened by education, and that the useful arts +of the _Hausfrau_ should engage her attention forthwith. She should +keep house for him and her brothers, he announced, until she carried +out her proper mission in life by marrying and having babies. With +this oracular utterance he closed further discussion by burying +himself once more in his library, while Katrina came to tell us his +decision. + +She had looked forward to the pleasing social aspects of college life, +so she seemed slightly disappointed, did Katrina, and the end of her +nose held certain high lights. But aside from this evidence of sorrow +she made no protest against the peremptory masculine shaping of her +future. Stricken to the heart, Jessica and I stormed, begged, +implored, wept. Katrina opposed to our eloquence the impassive front +of a pink sofa-cushion. + +"My uncle says it," she sighed, and was silent. + +Jessica and I were not the natures to remain inactive at such a +crisis. We appealed to her brothers, who promptly declined to express +any opinion in the matter beyond a general conviction that their uncle +was right in all things. Baffled, we proceeded to beard the uncle in +his den. We found him wearing worn carpet slippers, a faded dressing- +gown, a serene expression, and an air of absorption in science which +did not materially lift at our approach. He listened to us patiently, +however, greeting our impassioned climaxes with long-drawn "ach so's," +which Jessica subsequently confided to me brought to birth in her the +first murderous impulse of a hitherto blameless life. Once we +experienced high hopes, when Jessica, whose conscience had seemingly +not accompanied us to the conference, dwelt feelingly on Katrina's +unusual intellectual achievements at the academy. Her uncle grew very +grave at this, and his "ach so's" rolled about in the bare old library +like echoes of distant thunder. + +"Ach, that is bad," he sighed; "I did not think it; I was careless. I +should have taken her away sooner, is it not so? But she will quickly +forget--yes, yes." His face cleared. "It will do her no harm," he went +on. "It is not good that the women know too much. _Kirche, Kinder, und +Kuchen_--that is best for them. Ach, yes." + +There being obviously little to gain by prolonging this painful +discussion, Jessica and I bore our outraged sensibilities to the +calming atmosphere of our homes. And in due time, our trunks being +packed and our farewells said, we departed to apply our thirsty lips +to the fountain of knowledge flowing at the Eastern college, leaving +Katrina to embark upon her domestic career. + +Time and distance, we reminded Katrina, could be bridged by letters, +and Katrina responded nobly to the hint. She wrote every day at first, +and we consumed most of our waking hours in inditing our replies. +There seemed, indeed, little else to engage our attention in a +community which was experiencing great difficulty in recalling our +names and was in heathen darkness as to our brilliant achievements at +the academy. As time passed, however, we grew more busy. For a few +months the necessity of asserting our individuality to an extent which +would at least prevent our being trodden upon in the halls engaged our +attention, and after that a conscientious imitation of loved ones in +the Junior class occupied much time. + +The great news of Katrina's engagement fanned into a fierce flame the +warm embers of our friendship. Oh, joy, oh romance, oh, young, young +love! We wrote Katrina forty pages of congratulations, and Katrina +coyly but fully replied. We could almost see her rosy blushes as she +bent over the pages of her long letters to us. Her future lord was a +German, a professor in the Lutheran college in our native city, and, +it seemed, though Katrina dwelt but lightly on the fact, somewhat past +the first fine flush of youth. So much Katrina naively conveyed to us, +with the further information that the wedding was to be early in +February, because Professor von Heller, the happy bridegroom, seemed +unaccountably to be in haste, and had bought a home, to which he was +anxious to take her. + +There was much in all this to arouse our girlish enthusiasm; the +charms of our beloved Juniors paled into temporary insignificance as +we followed Katrina's love-affair. We could not go home for the +wedding, for reasons which seemed sufficient to the faculty, and this +was a bitter blow. But we spent more than we could afford on the +wedding-present we sent Katrina, and we still occupied most of our +waking hours writing to her. + +The wedding, according to Katrina's account, was in the nature of a +brilliant social function. She found time during her honeymoon to +write us lengthy accounts of its splendors. She obviously had taken +considerable satisfaction in the presence of the entire faculty of +Professor von Heller's college and in the effect of her gown, which +was of white satin, with orange-blossoms. She also sent us a box of +her wedding-cake, some of which we ate and upon the rest of which we +conscientiously slumbered, experiencing horrible nightmares. Then, as +the weeks passed, her letters became less frequent, and we, in turn, +whirling in the maelstrom of spring examinations, gave to her paradise +the tribute of an occasional envious thought and respected her happy +silence. + +When we went home for our summer vacation our first caller, most +properly, was Katrina. She was a subdued, rather chastened Katrina, +whose thoughtful, slightly puzzled expression might have suggested to +maturer minds that some, at least, of the vaunted joys of domestic +life had thus far escaped her. She urged us to come to her at once-- +the next day, in fact--and we accepted her invitation with the +alacrity it deserved. We could not dine with her, we explained, as +Jessica's sister had thoughtlessly made another engagement for us; but +we would come at two and remain until after five, unbosoming ourselves +of the year's experiences in a long talk and listening to the wisdom +that flowed from Katrina's lips. + +The next day was very beautiful, and Jessica and I, casting off a +haunting suspicion of our individual unimportance which we had not +quite succeeded in leaving behind us at college, expanded joyfully, +and lent ourselves to the charms of a sunlit world. The Lutheran fount +of knowledge was on the edge of the city, and Katrina's home was a +short distance beyond it. It was quite a country place, this home, +over the big, bare lawn of which an iron dog fiercely mounted guard. A +weather-beaten house confronted us, with a cold, forbidding +expression. We felt chilled as we opened the gate, but Katrina +presented herself at the first click of its latch, and her welcome was +so hospitable and eager that our temporary constraint vanished. +Simultaneously we fell upon her neck; loudly we assured her of our +envious delight; noisily we trooped into her hall. As we entered it, a +large, cheerful room confronted us. Through its open door we could see +soft, leather-covered easy-chairs and big windows overlooking distant +hills. Jessica started toward this, but Katrina checked her with a +gentle touch. + +"Not there," she said, gravely; "that is my husband's study, and he +may come in any moment. _This_ is our sitting-room." + +She opened another door as she spoke, and we followed her dazedly +across the threshold into a space which, properly utilized, might have +made a comfortable single sleeping-room. It was quite seven feet by +nine and had one window, looking out on a dingy barn. The painted +floor was partly covered by a rug. Katrina's zither stood stiffly in a +corner, three chairs backed themselves sternly against the wall. +Katrina indicated two of these, and dropped on the third with her +radiant smile. + +"We use this as the sitting-room," she remarked, casually, "because my +husband needs plenty of light and space when he works. Oh, my dear +girls!" she broke out; "you don't know how glad I am to see you! Tell +me everything that has happened since we met--all about college and +your friends there." + +As she spoke, there was the sound of heavy footsteps in the hall, +followed by the noisy opening and shutting of a door. The pushing +about of chairs in the next room and the drop of a heavy body into one +of them suggested that the professor was at home and in his study. +Katrina corroborated this surmise. + +"My husband," she murmured, with a little blush. "He is early to-day." + +The words were drowned by a roar. + +"Katrina," bellowed a bass voice of startling depth, "bring my +slippers!" + +Katrina rose on the instant. + +"You will excuse me?" she said, hastily. "Talk till I come back." + +We did not talk, having some abysmal suspicion that if we talked we +might say something. I gazed steadily at a little German picture on +the wall--one I had given our hostess years before--and Jessica hummed +a college-song under her breath. We heard Katrina's feet fly up- +stairs, down again, and into the study. Almost immediately she +returned to us, her cheeks pink from her exertions. + +"Now," she began, "I want to hear all about it--the nicest teachers, +the chums who have taken my place." + +The voice in the next room boomed out again. + +"Ka-tri-na!" it bellowed. "My pipe! It is up-stairs." + +Katrina departed for the pipe. Jessica and I indulged in the luxury of +a long, comprehending gaze into the depths of each other's eyes. +Katrina returned, and we all talked at once; for five minutes +reminiscences and confidences flowed with the freedom of a mountain +stream after a thaw. + +"Ka-tri-na!" + +Katrina sat still. She was listening to the end of Jessica's best +story, but one willing foot went forward tentatively. + +"Ka-tri-na!" Katrina should have heard that call though she lay with +folded hands beside her mother 'neath the church-yard mould. + +"Katrina, get me Haeckel's _Wonders of Life!_" + +Katrina got it, by the simple and effective process of going into the +room where the professor sat and taking it from its shelf. We heard +the soft murmur of her voice, fallowed by the rumble of his. When she +returned to us, Jessica finished her story in the chastened spirit +which follows such an interruption, and there were ten minutes of +talk. We forgot the bare little room; old memories softly enfolded us; +the Katrina we knew and loved dominated the situation. + +"Ka-tri-na!" + +Katrina's soft lips were not smiling now, but she rose at once, and +with a murmured apology left the room. We heard the suggestion of the +rest of her task as she closed the door. + +"Where is that box of pens I got last week?" + +Apparently their lurking-place was a distant one; Katrina's absence +was long. When she returned, she volunteered to show us the house. We +surmised that her desire was to get away from the sound of that +summoning voice, and even as we rose we realized the futility of such +an effort. + +The dining-room, into which she led us for cake and tea, was almost +comfortable. Its furniture, dark, serviceable oak, was a gift, Katrina +told us, from her uncle. Twice as she served the tea she responded to +a summons from the professor's study. Once he desired a handkerchief, +and the second time he wished an important letter posted at once. His +wife went out to the rural box which adorned the fence in front of the +house and cast the envelope into its yawning mouth. Returning, she +showed us her kitchen, an immaculate spot, the floor of which was +evidently scrubbed by her own hands, for she mentioned that she +employed no servant. + +"Hans thinks we do not need one," she added, simply. + +To the right of the dining-room was a fine, bright, cheerful room, +full of shelves on which stood innumerable jars and bottles of evil +odor. + +"My husband's laboratory," announced Katrina, proudly. "He has to have +light and air." + +Up-stairs there was a bedroom containing a huge double bed; a +companion room off this was evidently used by the professor as a +dressing-room and store-room. His clothes and several startling German +trunks filled it. There were other rooms, but not one of them +contained a rug or a piece of furniture. Slowly, convincingly, the +knowledge entered our sentimental little hearts that Katrina's sole +refuge for herself and her friends was the tiny, so-called "sitting- +room" down-stairs. She continued to show us about with housewifely +pride. So far as we could see, her unconsciousness of her wrongs was +complete. She was wholly untouched by self-pity. + +"Do you mean to say--" began Jessica, warmly, and then suddenly +realized that she herself could not say it. It was as well, for there +was no opportunity. Even as Katrina was beginning to explain that her +husband did not think it necessary to complete the furnishing of the +house for a year or two, he summoned her to his side by a megaphonic +demand for water to thin his ink. His impatience for this overcame his +obvious aversion to exertion, and he came into the hall to take it +from her hand as we descended the stairs. She introduced him to us, +and he bowed gravely and with considerable dignity. He had a massive +head, with iron-gray, curling hair, and near-sighted eyes, which +peered at us vaguely through large, steel-rimmed spectacles. He +surveyed us, not unpleasantly, but wholly without interest, nodded +again, partly to himself and partly to us, as if our appearance had +confirmed some dark surmise of his own, took the water from Katrina's +hand, grunted an acknowledgment, and retreated to his fastness in the +study. He had not spoken one articulate word. Even Katrina, smiling +her untroubled smile, seemed to feel that something in the situation +demanded a word of comment. + +"He is not at ease with girls," she murmured, gently. "He has taught +only boys, and he does not understand women; but he has a kind heart." + +Jessica and I ruminated thoughtfully upon this tribute as we went +away. We had learned through the innocent prattle of our hostess's +busy tongue that she desired a garden, but that Hans thought it a +waste of time; that she had suggested open plumbing, and that Hans +declined to go to the expense; that she saw little of her brothers +nowadays, as Hans did not approve of them; that her old friends came +to see her rarely since her marriage, as, for some reason +unaccountable to Katrina, they seemed not to like her husband. We +waited until we were out of sight of the house, and then seated +ourselves gloomily on a wayside rock under a sheltering tree. A robin, +perched on a branch above our heads, burst into mocking song. The sun +still shone; I wondered how it could. + +"Well, of all the selfish beasts and unmanageable brutes!" Jessica +began, hotly. Jessica's language was frequently too strong for +elegance, and even at this exciting moment my sense of duty forced me +to call the fact to her attention. I moreover, essayed judicious +weighing of the situation as the most effective means of cooling her +off. + +"If the secret of happiness is work, as most authorities agree," I +reminded Jessica, "Professor von Heller's wife ought to be the +happiest bride in this country." + +Jessica turned one disgusted glance upon me, rose with dignity, and +moved haughtily down the road to a street-car which was bumping its +way toward us on its somewhat uneven track. + +"Oh, well, if you are going to be funny over a tragedy in which one of +your dearest friends is a victim," she observed, icily, "we will not +discuss the matter. But I, for one, have learned a lesson: I know +_now_ what matrimony is." + +I had a dim sense that even this experience, interesting and educative +though it was, could not be fairly regarded as a post-graduate course +in matrimonial knowledge, and I ventured to say so. + +Jessica set her teeth and declined to discuss the matter further, +resolutely turning the conversation to the neutral topic of a cat-bird +which was mewing plaintively in a hedge behind us. Late that night, +however, she awoke me from my innocent slumbers with a request for +knowledge as to the correct spelling of _irrevocable_ and +_disillusionment_. She was at her desk, writing hard, with her brows +knit into an elaborate pattern of cross-stitching. I knew the moment I +looked upon her set young face that the missive was to Arthur Townsend +Jennings, the brother of a classmate, whose letter urging her to "wait +five years" for him Jessica had received only that morning. It was +quite evident, even to the drowsiest observation, that Jessica was not +promising to wait. + +Jessica's pessimism on the subject of matrimony dated from that hour, +and grew with each day that followed. Coldly, even as she had turned +from the plea of Arthur Townsend Jennings, did she turn from all other +suitors. She grew steadily in charm and beauty, and her opportunities +to break hearts were, from the susceptible nature of man, of an almost +startling frequency. Jessica grasped each one with what seemed even to +my loyal eyes diabolical glee. She was an avenging Nemesis, hot on the +trail of man. Grave professors, Harvard, Yale, and Princeton Juniors +and Seniors, loyal boy friends of her youth who came in manhood to lay +their hearts at her feet--all of these and more Jessica sent forth +from her presence, a long, stricken procession. "I know _now_ what +matrimony is," was Jessica's battle-cry. If, in a thoughtless partisan +spirit, I sought to say a good word for one of her victims, pointing +out his material advantages or his spiritual graces, or both, Jessica +turned upon me with a stern reminder. "Have you forgotten Katrina?" +she would ask. As I had not forgotten Katrina, the question usually +silenced me. + +For myself, I must admit, Jessica's Spartan spirit had its effect as +an example. Left alone to work out the problem according to my +elemental processes, I might possibly have arrived at the conclusion +that Katrina's domestic infelicity, assuming that it existed, need not +necessarily spread a sombre pall over the entire institution of +matrimony. But Jessica's was a dominant personality, and I was easily +influenced. In my humble way I followed her example; and though, +lacking her beauty and magnetism, the havoc I wrought was vastly less +than hers, I nevertheless succeeded in temporarily blighting the lives +of two middle-aged professors, one widower in the dry-goods line, and +the editor of a yellow newspaper. This last, I must admit, my heart +yearned over. I earnestly desired to pluck him from the burning, so to +speak, and assist him to find the higher nature of which he had +apparently entirely lost sight. There was something singularly +pleasing to me in the personality of this gentleman, but Jessica would +have none of him. I finally agreed to be a maiden aunt to him, and, +this happy compromise effected, I was privileged to see him +frequently. If at any time I faltered, quoting him too often on the +political problems of the day, or thoughtlessly rereading his letters +in Jessica's presence, she reminded me of Katrina. I sighed, and +resumed the mantle, so to speak, of the maiden aunt. Unlike Katrina, I +never had been good at running errands, and now, in my early thirties, +I was taking on stoutness: it was plain that the risk of matrimony was +indeed too great. + +For we had been growing older, Jessica and I, and many things more or +less agreeable had happened to us. We had been graduated with high +honors, we had spent four years abroad in supplementary study, and we +had then returned to the congenial task of bringing education up to +date in our native land. We taught, and taught successfully; and our +girls went forth and married, or studied or taught, and came back to +show us their babies or their theses, according to the character of +their productiveness. We fell into the routine of academic life. +Occasionally, at longer intervals as the years passed, an intrepid +man, brushing aside the warnings of his anxious friends, presented +himself for the favor of Jessica, and was sternly sent to join the +long line of his predecessors. Life was full, life in its way was +interesting, but it must be admitted that life was sometimes rather +lonely. My editor, loyal soul that he was, wrote regularly, and came +to see me twice a year. Professor Herbert Adams, a victim long at +Jessica's feet, made sporadic departures from that position, and then +humbly returned. These two alone were left us. Jessica acquired three +gray hairs and a permanent crease in her intellectual brow. + +During all these changing scenes we had not seen Katrina. Under no +circumstances, after that first melancholy visit, would we willingly +have seen her again. At long intervals we heard from her. We knew +there were three fat babies, whose infant charms, hitherto +unparalleled, were caricatured in snapshots sent us by their proud +mother. Jessica looked at these, groaned, and dropped them into the +dark corners of our study. Our visits home were rare, and there had +been no time in any of them for a second call at the home of Professor +von Heller. Seven years after our return from Europe, however, Jessica +decided that she needed a rest and a summer in her native air. +Moreover, she had just given Professor Adams his final _conge_, and he +had left her in high dudgeon. I sapiently inferred that Jessica had +found the experience something of a strain. As Jessica acted as +expeditiously in other matters as in blighting lives, I need hardly +add that we were transported to our home town with gratifying +despatch. We had stepped from the train at the end of our journey +before a satisfactory excuse for remaining behind had occurred to me, +and it was obviously of little avail to mention it then. Twenty-four +hours after the newspapers had chronicled the exciting news of our +arrival, Katrina called on us. + +We gasped as we looked at her. Was this, indeed, Katrina--this rosy, +robust, glowing, radiant German with shining eyes and with vitality +flowing from her like the current of an electric battery? I looked at +Jessica's faded complexion, the tired lines in her face, the white +threads in her dark hair, and my heart contracted suddenly. I knew how +I looked--vastly more tired, more faded than Jessica, for I had +started from a point nearer to these undesirable goals. We three were +about the same age. There were six months at the most between us. Who +would believe it to look at us together? + +Katrina seized us in turn, and kissed us on both cheeks. To me there +was something life-giving in the grasp of her strong, firm hands, in +the touch of her cool, soft lips. She insisted that we come to see her +and at once. When would we come? We had no excuse now, she pointed +out, and if we needed a rest, the farm--her home--was the best place +in the world for rest. With a faint access of hope I heard her. The +farm? Had she, then, moved? No, she was still in the same place, +Katrina explained, but the city had lurched off in another direction, +leaving her and Hans and the children undisturbed in their peaceful +pastoral life. + +"Ka-tri-na!" + +I almost jumped, but it was only a memory, helped on by my vivid +fancy. I had tried to picture the peaceful pastoral life, but all that +responded was the echo of that distant summons. Jessica, however, was +explaining that we would come--soon, very soon--next week--yes, +Tuesday, of course. Jessica subsequently inquired of me, with the +strong resentment of the person who is in the wrong, how I expected +her to get us out of it. It was something that had to be done. +Obviously, she said, it was one of those things to do and have done +with. + +She discoursed languidly about Katrina in the interval between the +promise and the visit. + +"Well! Of course she's well," drawled Jessica. "She's the kind that +wouldn't know it if she wasn't well. For the rest, she's phlegmatic, +has no aspirations, and evidently no sensitiveness. All she asks is to +wait on that man and his children, and from our glimpse of Hans we can +safely surmise that he is still gratifying that simple aspiration. +Heavens! don't let's talk about it! It's too horrible!" + +Tuesday came, and we made our second visit to Katrina's--fourteen +years to a month from the time of our first. Again the weather was +perfect, but the years and professional cares had done their fatal +work, and our lagging spirits refused to respond to the jocund call of +the day. Again we approached, with an absurd shrinking, the bleak old +house. The bleak old house was not there; nay, it was there, but +transformed. It was painted red. Blossoming vines clambered over it; +French windows descended to meet its wide verandas; striped awnings +sheltered its rooms from the July sun. The lawns, sloping down to a +close-clipped hedge, were green and velvety. The iron dog was gone. A +great hammock swung in the corner of the veranda, and in it tumbled a +fat, pink child and a kitten. The fat child proved that all was not a +dream. It was Katrina reborn--the Katrina of that first day in school, +twenty years and more ago. Rather unsteadily we walked up the gravel +path, rather uncertainly we rang the bell. A white-capped maid ushered +us in. Yes, Frau von Heller was at home and expecting the ladies. +Would the ladies be gracious enough to enter? The ladies would. The +ladies entered. + +The partition between two of the rooms had been taken down and the +entire floor made over. There was a wide hall, with a great living- +room at the right. As we approached it we heard the gurgle of a baby's +laugh, Katrina's answering ripple, and the murmur of a bass voice +buzzing like a cheerful bumblebee. Our footsteps were deadened by the +thick carpet, and our entrance did not disturb for a moment the +pleasing family tableau on which we gazed. The professor was standing +with his baby in his arms, his profile toward the door, facing his +wife, who was laughing up at him. The infant had grasped a handful of +his father's wavy gray hair and was making an earnest and gratifyingly +successful effort to drag it out by the roots. Von Heller's face, +certainly ten years younger than when we saw it last, was alight with +pride in this precocious offspring. Seeing us, he tossed the baby on +his shoulder, holding it there with one accustomed arm, and came to +meet us, his wife close by his side. They reached us together, but it +was the professor who gave us our welcome. This time he needed no +introduction. + +"My wife's friends, Miss Lawrence and Miss Gifford, is it not?" He +smiled, extending his big hand to each of us in turn, and giving our +hands a grip the cordiality of which made us wince. "It is a pleasure. +But you will excuse this young man, is it not?" He lowered the baby to +his breast as he spoke, while his wife fell upon our necks in +hospitable greeting. "He has no manners, this young man," added the +father, sadly, when Katrina had thus expressed her rapture in our +arrival. "He would yell if I put him down, and he has lungs--ach, but +he has lungs!" + +He busied himself drawing forth chairs for us, apparently quite +unhampered by his small burden. We contemplated the baby and said +fitting things. He had cheeks like beefsteaks and eyes that stuck out +of his head with what appeared to be joyful interest in his +surroundings Katrina exclaimed over a sudden discovery: + +"But you haven't taken off your hats!" she cried. "Hans, give the baby +to Gretchen and take my friends' wraps and hats up to the guest-room. +I don't want Miss Lawrence to climb stairs." + +The professor obediently summoned the nurse, dropped the baby, +burdened himself with our garments, and ambled off with the tread of a +peaceful elephant. When he returned, with the eager look of a +retriever waiting for another stick, his wife promptly met his hopes. + +"Arrange the easy-chair for Miss Lawrence, dear," she said, +comfortably, "and put an ottoman under her feet. I want her to rest +while she is here." + +The professor did it, while we gazed. He also inquired feelingly as to +the state of Jessica's health, showed a sympathy almost human in her +replies, and placed a pillow behind her back. Subsequently, during +that call, he did these things: + +He answered the telephone half a dozen times, faithfully repeating to +his wife the messages of her various friends, and carrying hers back, +as she declined to be torn from us long enough to talk to them +herself. + +He rounded up the remaining two children and presented them for our +inspection, straightening his son's shoulders with an experienced +hand, and tying with consummate skill the bow on his little girl's +hair. + +He went to the stable and ordered the family carriage, that we might +drive later in the afternoon. + +He searched for and found the morning newspaper, thoughtlessly dropped +in the waste-paper basket by the maid, and he read aloud to us a +paragraph to which Katrina had referred chronicling the achievements +of a classmate of ours. He brought to Katrina, at different times and +from remote parts of the house, one white shawl, six photographs of +the children, an essay written by their son, aged ten, two books, a +bib to meet a sudden need of the baby, and Katrina's address-book. He +did these things, and he did them cheerfully, and with the +unmistakable ease of frequent repetition. I glanced at Jessica. The +expressions of incredulity and amazement to which she had freely +yielded during the first half-hour of our call had given way to a look +of deep reflection. + +Subsequently Katrina showed us her home. The room that had been the +professor's study was now part of the large general living-room. The +laboratory was now Katrina's personal sitting-room. Through its French +windows we saw Katrina's garden blossoming like the rose. Jessica +asked the present location of the professor's study and laboratory. +She subsequently admitted to me that she should not have done it, but +that to leave the house without the information would have been a +physical and moral impossibility. Katrina looked at her vaguely, as +one seeking to recall a fleeting moment of the long-dead past; but the +professor responded with gratified alacrity. + +"But you shall see them!" he cried. "Surely, yes;" and like a jovial +school-boy he led us up to the third floor. There, indeed, was his +study--a hall bedroom, much crowded by his desk and easy-chair; and +off it, in a closet, were his beloved bottles and chemicals. I felt a +throb of sympathy for the professor, but he was evidently blissfully +ignorant of any reason for such a sentiment. + +"The _Mutterchen_ and the babies need the rest," he smiled, +complacently. "They must not climb too many stairs--no;" and he led +the way back to comfort with unconsciousness of the painful contrast +between past and present conditions that made Jessica and me carefully +refrain from meeting each other's eyes. The children, when they espied +him upon our return, uttered shrieks of joy. The baby sprang to his +arms, the little boy swarmed up his leg. The picture of Professor von +Heller as a perfectly trained husband and father was complete. + +In silence, after our prolonged farewells, Jessica and I left the +house. In silence we entered the trolley-car; in silence we rode home. +At last I voiced a sudden suspicion. + +"Do you think," I asked, hopefully, "that it was all a--a--well, that +she persuaded him to do it just this once, for our edification?" + +Jessica shook her head. + +"I thought so, at first," she conceded, slowly. "That in itself would +have been a miracle--one I'd never believe if I hadn't seen it with +these eyes. But everything disproves the theory. Do you think she +could have trained those children to advance and retreat like a Casino +ballet? On the contrary, it's evident that they literally live on him. +They've worn the creases off his trousers! Didn't you notice where the +creases left off and the sliding-place of the babies began?" + +I reluctantly admitted that this detail had escaped my observation. +Jessica sighed. + +"Incredible as it is," she summed up, "it's all true. It's the real +thing." + +"It opens quite a vista," I observed, thoughtfully. "If you would like +Professor Adams's present address, I can give it to you. He is in the +Adirondacks with his sister Mollie, and I had a letter from her this +morning." + +Jessica looked at me and urged me not to be vulgar. Her thoughtful +expression did not lift. + +"If Katrina can do _that_ with _that_ man," I murmured, reflectively, +as we entered the house, "I really believe you could work wonders with +Adams. He would probably do the cooking and marketing--" + +"If you're so impressed," remarked Jessica, in incisive tones, "I +wonder you don't yield to the prayers and tears of your editor man." + +My reply made Jessica sink into a hall chair which was fortunately at +hand. + +"I am going to," I said, placidly. And I did. + +Jessica's nature being less womanly and yielding than mine, her +surrender was a matter of longer time. In the interval I quite forgot +her unimportant affairs, being wholly absorbed in the really +extraordinary values of my own. Two weeks before the reopening of +college, my reformed yellow journalist, who had come West to spend his +brief vacation with me, was seated by my side one evening studying the +admirable effect of a ring he had just placed on my finger. It is +singular how fraught with human interest such moments can be, and +Edward and I failed to hear Jessica as she opened the door. She looked +over our heads as she spoke to me, Her face was rather red, but her +voice and manner expressed a degree of indifference which I am +convinced no human being has ever really felt on any subject. + +"Did you say that you could give me Mollie Adams's address?" asked +Jessica. + + + + +XI + +BART HARRINGTON, GENIUS + + +The assistant Sunday editor of the New York "Searchlight" was busy. +This was not an unusual condition, but it frequently included +unusually irritating features. His superior, Wilson, the Sunday +editor, was a gentleman with a high brow and a large salary, who, +having won a reputation as "a Napoleon of Journalism," had +successfully cultivated a distaste for what he called "details." His +specialty was the making of suggestions in editorial council, in +cheery expectation that they would be carried out by his associates-- +an expectation so rarely realized that Mr. Wilson's visage had almost +a habit of hurt wonder. "Details" continued to absorb the activity of +the Sunday "Searchlight" office, and Maxwell, the assistant editor, +attended to them all, murmuring bitterly against his chief as he +labored. + +On this special morning, moreover, he was receiving telephoned +bulletins of the gradual disintegration of his biggest "special," +scheduled for the coming Sunday edition, which was to tell with +sympathetic amplitude of a beautiful French maiden who had drowned +herself because some young man no longer loved her. The active +reporter assigned to the case had telephoned first his discovery that +the girl never had a lover, but cheerily suggested that this explained +her suicide as well as the earlier theory, and wasn't so hackneyed, +sagely adding that he would get the story anyhow. Subsequently he had +rung up the office to report, with no slight disgust, that there was +no suicide to explain, as the girl was not dead. She had merely gone +to visit friends in the country, and the people in the house, missing +her, had decided that the peaceful waters of the Hudson-- + +Maxwell hung up the receiver with a few crisp remarks addressed to +space, and absorbed in awestruck silence by a young woman at the other +end of the room who eased her type-writing labor by pausing to hear +them fully. It was at this inauspicious moment that the card of Mr. +Bart Harrington was brought in by an office boy. Maxwell surveyed it +with strong disfavor. + +"Who is he?" he asked, regarding the office boy severely. + +The office boy avowed deprecatingly that he didn't know. + +"He 'ain't never been here before," he submitted, in extenuation. "He +says he's got a Sunday story," + +Maxwell resigned himself to the waste of five minutes of precious +time. + +"Show 'm in," he commanded, testily. He sat down at his desk and +turned toward the door an expression that reminded callers of the +value of time and the brevity of life. Mr. Harrington, who had +followed the boy through the door with conviction of these two things, +dropped into a chair beside the editor's desk and surveyed Maxwell +with a smile so young, so trustful, and withal so engaging, that +unconsciously the stern features of that functionary relaxed. +Nevertheless, he was not jarred out of his routine. + +"Got your story with you, Mr. Harrington?" he asked, briskly, holding +out his hand for the manuscript. "If you'll leave it, I'll read--" +Harrington interrupted him with an impressive shake of his head. Then +he settled back in his chair, crossed one leg comfortably over the +other, plunged his hands deep in the pockets of his very shabby +overcoat, and continued to regard the editor with his singularly +boyish, dimpling smile. With one swift glance Maxwell took him in, +from the broken boot on the foot he was gently swinging to and fro to +the thick, curly locks on his handsome head. He had a complexion like +a girl's, a dimple in each cheek, and a jaw like a bull-dog's. He was +all of six feet tall, and his badly made clothes could not wholly +conceal the perfect lines of his figure. He was about twenty-two years +old, Maxwell decided, and, notwithstanding his dimples, his +complexion, his youth, and his smile, he conveyed a vivid impression +of masculinity and strength. He was wholly self-possessed, and his +manner suggested that the business which had brought him where he was +was of such urgent value and importance that the busy world itself +might well hush its noisy activities long enough to hear of it. To his +own great surprise, Maxwell waited until his caller was prepared to +speak. + +Harrington shook his head again slowly. Then he tapped his forehead +with the second finger of his right hand. + +"I have it heah," he said, slowly, referring evidently to the brow he +had indicated, and speaking with a slight drawl and the strongly +marked accent of the Southern mountaineer. "I 'lowed I wouldn't write +it till I knew you-all wanted it. I'd like to tell it. Then if--" + +Maxwell nodded, and glanced at his watch. + +"Fire away," he said, elegantly. "But be as quick as you can, please. +This is closing day and every minute counts." + +Harrington smiled his ingenuous smile. It was a wistful smile--not a +happy one--but it seemed, somehow, to illumine the office. Maxwell +reflected irritably that there was something unusually likable about +the fellow, but he wished he'd hurry up and get out. From force of +habit his fingers grasped a blue pencil on his desk, and he began to +fumble nervously among the manuscripts that lay before him. Harrington +settled back more firmly in his chair, and the swinging of his torn +boot was accelerated a trifle, but his voice when he spoke was full of +quiet confidence. + +"It's a good thing, suh," he said, "and I can tell you-all about it in +a sentence. I'm goin' to commit suicide to-day, an' I agree to write +the experience foh you, up to the last minute, if you-all will have me +buried decently. I don't cayah to be shovelled into the Pottah's +Field." + +Maxwell dropped the blue pencil and wheeled to look at him. Then his +face hardened. + +"It's a pretty bad joke," he said, "or a bum sort of bid for charity. +In either case you can't waste any more of my--" + +But Harrington had sprung to his feet, his blond young face black with +passion. + +"Damn you!" he hissed, thrusting his head down close to the other's +and clinching his fists. "How dahe you-all say I lie o' ask charity? +I'd see you-all in hell befoah I'd take a cent of youah damned money. +'Ain't you got brains enough in youah haid to see that I've got to the +end of mah rope?" + +Maxwell was a clever man, educated in the world's university. He knew +truth when he met it, and he knew human nature. + +"Sit down," he said, quietly, "and tell me about it. I'm sorry I spoke +as I did, but you must admit that your proposition was rather +startling." + +Harrington sat down, still breathing hard in his excitement, but +evidently making a resolute effort to control himself. + +"That's why I brought it heah," he said, answering the other's last +words, "You-all like stahtlin' things, don't you? That's what you +print. I'm offerin' you a straight bahgain, suh--a business +proposition. If you-all don't want it, say so." + +Maxwell smiled in his turn, but there was nothing ironic in the smile, +nor in the look he turned on his fellow-man. + +"It's not quite as simple as you seem to think," he explained, gently. +"But tell me more about it. What led to this decision? What makes you +think suicide is the only way out of your troubles? That's a part of +the story, you know. Let me have that first, in a few words. + +"It can be told, suh, in three," said the Southerner. His smile had +returned. His voice was the cool voice of one who discussed abstract +things. "I'm a failyuh. This wold 'ain't no use foh failyuhs. I've +given myself all the time and chances I dese'ved, but I cayn't win +out, so I've got to _git_ out. The's no one to ca'e. I've no kin, no +ons dependin' on me in any way. As foh me, I'm ti'ed; life ain't wuth +the effo't." + +Maxwell regarded him. + +"You don't look like a quitter," he said, thoughtfully. + +The boy's face blazed again, but he kept his temper. + +"To quit means to give somethin' up," he said, doggedly. "I ain't +givin' anythin' up. I 'ain't got anythin' to give up. Life without +wo'k, o' interest, o' fren's, o' ambition, o' love--that ain't livin'! +If you-all evah tried it, you'd know. I 'ain't been so chee'ful in +yeahs as I've been sence I made up my mind to 'quit,' as you-all call +it." + +"You've got health, haven't you?" demanded Maxwell. "Yes." + +Maxwell brought his hand down on the desk with an air of finality. + +"Then you've got everything. Do you mean to tell me that a fellow like +you can't earn enough to support himself? If you do, you're talking +rot." + +Harrington took this with his wide, guileless grin. He was not +offended now, for he felt the friendly interest and sympathy under the +other's words. His voice when he replied was gentler. + +"I ain't sayin' I can't keep body an' soul together, foh maybe I can," +he conceded. "But I'm sayin' _that_ ain't _life_. I'm sayin' I ain't +been fitted fo' wo'k. I 'ain't been educated. I've lived in a log- +cabin down in the Virginia mountains all man life. I left thah six +weeks ago, after mah mother died. She was the last of ouah family but +me. I 'ain't never been to school. She taught me to read in the Bible, +an' to write. I 'ain't nevah read anotheh book except the Bible and +Mistah Shakespeah's poems, an' Mistah Pluta'ch's _Lives of Great Men_. +I know them by hea't. I don't know whe' she got them o' whe' she came +from. She was different from othah mountain women. I've been No'th six +weeks, and I've tried ha'd to find a place whah I could fit in, but +th' ain't none. Men must be trained fuh wo'k; I ain't trained. I +cayn't go back, foh the's no one thah, an' I hate the mountains." + +Maxwell's reply was brief and to the point. + +"Think you could learn to run our elevator without killing us all?" he +inquired. "Well, you've got to. You've been talking awful guff, you +know. Now you're going to work, right here. We need a new man. The one +we have has been drunk three days. You're going to run the elevator +and get fifteen dollars a week to begin with. Here's your first week's +salary in advance. I'll arrange about the job with the superintendent. +I'll give you some books, and you can educate yourself. When you're +above elevator work we'll give you something better. You'll probably +have my job inside of a year," he ended, jocosely. + +The hand of the mountaineer stretched out to him trembled as Maxwell +grasped it. + +"You ah the only white man I've found in the No'th," said the +Southerner, breathlessly. "I'll make good, as they say up heah. But I +don't know how I can thank you." + +"Don't try," said Maxwell, brusquely. "Be here at eight in the +morning. By nine there will be a few callers I may want you to throw +down the shaft." + +Thus began the connection between the _Searchlight_ and Bart +Harrington, subsequently its most popular employe. Before the week was +over all the reporters and most of the editors had casually sought +from Maxwell some details concerning his protege, but had received +few. Harrington was a new man, and he came from the Virginia +mountains, and was most obliging and altogether engaging. This was all +the information acquired even by the indefatigable Miss Mollie Merk, +whose success in extracting from individuals information it was their +dearest desire to conceal had made her a star member of the +_Searchlight's_ staff. It was to Miss Merk, however, that Harrington +announced his first important discovery. Leaning across her desk one +evening after his successor had taken the "car," the new elevator man +touched a subject much upon his mind. + +"I got wet the othah day," he began, conversationally, "an' mah +landlady let me go to the kitchen to dry mah clothes. I obse'ved as I +sat by huh stove that the lid of the wash boilah kept liftin' up, all +by itself, an' then I saw 'twas raised by the steam of the hot watah +inside. I kep' thinkin' 'bout it, an' it seems to me thah's an idea +thah, a soht of ene'gy, you know, that might be used in big ways. I +mus' think it out." + +Mollie Merk looked at him, vague memories of one James Watts stirring +uneasily in her brain. + +"There's a good deal written about steam," she said, sympathetically. +"I'll bring you a book on it." + +She did, for Harrington was already high in her regard; and quite +possibly the volume killed in that youth's aspiring soul the germ of a +beautiful hope. But he was to the fore very soon with a discovery of +equal weight. This time his confidant was Maxwell. + +"Why is it," he asked that busy citizen one evening, "that when I get +in the bathtub the water rises highah? Ain't the' some principle the' +that is impo'tant? As I think it ovah--" + +Maxwell hurriedly assured him that there was, and the volume on steam +was followed by a treatise on specific gravity, which gave Mr. +Harrington food for reflection for several days. Nevertheless, the +discovery that others had been before him did not depress him in the +least. He gave the Sunday editor an insight into his views on one +occasion when that gentleman was able to convince him that Isaac +Newton and not Bart Harrington had discovered the law of gravitation +while watching an apple fall from a tree. + +"I obse'ved it, too, suh," argued Harrington, sturdily, defending his +position as a scientific discoverer. "Of co'se I see the fo'ce of +you'h rema'k that the othah man was _first_. That is unfo'tunate foh +me. But does it affect the value of _my_ discovery? It does not, suh." + +"There's a good deal in it," Wilson conceded to Maxwell, after he had +delightedly repeated this conversation. "Of course, the fellow has an +unusual mind. It's a pity he's always a few hundred years behind the +time, but, as he hints, that needn't dim our admiration for the +quality of his brain fibre." + +Maxwell laughed uneasily. + +"I can't make up my mind," he admitted, in his turn, "whether he's a +genius or a plain fool. He lost his dinner last night explaining to me +how the power of Niagara could be applied to practical uses. He was +horribly depressed when I told him it not only could be, but was. I +let him talk, though, to see what his ideas were, and they were very +practical." + +"I call that mighty encouraging," said the chief, optimistically. +"He's getting down to modern times. After he has discovered the +telephone and telegraph and cable and wireless telegraphy he may +tackle telepathy and give us something new." + +But Harrington indulged in an unexplained digression at this point. He +discovered literature and became acquainted with the works of one +Charles Dickens, of whose genius he made himself the sounding trumpet- +call for the ears of an indifferent world. + +"The's a book called _David Coppe'field_," he confided to Maxwell one +night when he had lingered for a chat with his benefactor. "It's +great, suh. You should read it sometime, Mistah Maxwell; you would +appreciate its wo'th." He outlined the plot then and there, and +Maxwell good-naturedly listened, finding his compensation in the +enthusiast's original comments on character and situation. This, +however, established a bad precedent, and Maxwell was subsequently +obliged to hear a careful synopsis of _Little Dorrit, Old Curiosity +Shop,_ and _Oliver Twist_, in quick succession, followed by the +somewhat painful recitation of most of Gray's _Elegy in a Country +Churchyard_--for Harrington was now entering the daisied field of +poetry. + +It was at this point that Maxwell felt himself constrained to give his +protege a few words of advice, the city editor having objected to an +enforced hearing of the plot of _Ivanhoe_, and Mollie Merk having +admitted that she had climbed six flights of stairs twice a day for a +week in preference to hearing the final eighteen stanzas of _Paradise +Lost_. + +Maxwell explained the situation to his friend as gently as he could +one morning when Harrington had interrupted a talk between himself and +a distinguished Western editor who was spending a few days in New +York. + +"You see, old man," he ended, kindly, "this is a big, new world to +you, but the rest of us have been living in it all our lives. We've +taken in these things you're discovering--or we've had them driven +into us at school. So--er--they're not new, and while we appreciate +them we haven't got time to go over them all again. When you get up to +modern fiction--the things people are reading to-day--" + +With one expressive gesture of the hand Mr. Harrington demolished +modern fiction. + +"_I_ 'ain't got time foh that, Mistah Maxwell," he said, respectfully. +"I read one, and I regret to say, suh, that it was too much. I have +looked into othe's, but I go no fu'thah. I have tried to open to you +gentlemen the great wo'ks I have discove'ed, an' youah reply is that +you-all have read them, suh. I am surprised. Do you give one glance at +a picture an' nevah look again? Do you listen once to music, o' must +it be something new and mode'n ev'ry time? Last night I heard the +composition of a musician named Beethoven, who, I have learned, has +been dead foh yeahs. Yet people still listen to his notes. Why don't +they read these books of Mistah Dickens and Mistah Scott and Mistah +Shakespeah?" + +Maxwell murmured feebly that a few did. A fitting response to +Harrington's arraignment somehow eluded him, and before he had found +the words he wanted an unexpected interruption came from the Western +editor, who had been listening to the conversation with almost painful +interest. + +"Mr. Harrington," he asked, abruptly, "can you write?" + +Harrington looked surprised and boyishly injured. + +"Yes, suh," he replied, stiffly. "I can read and write." + +"Oh, of course, of course," explained the other, hastily. "I don't +mean that. Can you write for the press? Have you tried to write +anything for other people to read?" + +Harrington's characteristic smile flashed forth. + +"I have submitted sev'al ahticles to Mistah Maxwell," he said, with +some dignity, "but thus far I have not been fo'tunate enough---" + +Maxwell drew a little package of manuscripts from a pigeon-hole in his +desk and handed them to the visitor without a word. They spoke for +themselves. The latter glanced through them, frowning. Maxwell +returned to his work. Harrington waited. At last the Westerner handed +the papers back to his Eastern colleague, shaking his head as he did +so. + +"These won't do at all," he said, decidedly, "but they confirm my +impression that this man can write something worth while." He +addressed himself to Maxwell now, discussing Harrington as +impersonally as if he were absent, but from time to time his keen eyes +returned to the Southerner's face. + +"Here's a man," he began, didactically, "who is hundreds of years +behind the times. But please remember that he would have been Watts, +Newton, and several other discoverers if he had existed before them. +He's as much of a pilgrim on this earth to-day as if he were a visitor +from another planet. But he has an extraordinary type of mind and very +good taste--a strong, ignorant, instinctive feeling for the best. If +he would write a series of short articles giving his point of view to +the busy men and women of to-day, they should be 'good stuff'--a sort +of artistic voice crying in the commercial wilderness, don't you see. +You or some one else may have to put them into shape, until he catches +the idea, but he will catch it all right. He's clever enough. If you +want to try him, and it turns out as I think it will, I'll buy the +material for simultaneous publication in Chicago. What do you say?" + +"Agreed," said Maxwell, briefly. "I think you're right. We'll try it, +anyhow. I guess we won't have much trouble persuading Harrington to +favor us with the opportunity of examining his manuscript." He smiled +as he glanced at the other. Harrington's eyes were shining. His words, +when he spoke, came breathlessly. + +"I'll have the first copy ready in the mo'ning, Mistah Maxwell," he +promised. "And I reckon," he added, straightening his splendid +shoulders--"I reckon I'll give up the elevatah, suh." + +Maxwell laughed in high good-humor. + +"Oh yes," he agreed, "I guess we'll have to give you a successor +there, in any event. However this experiment turns out, it's time you +had something better than that." + +Harrington's first paper was signed "A Visitor from Mars," and Maxwell +marvelled as he read it. It was not a great production, and it was +full of small faults; but there was an indescribable naivete and charm +about it to which its quaint, old-time style added the final touch. +Harrington's studies of what he called "the olden masters" had not +been in vain. Late the next evening, in the peace of his small Harlem +flat, Maxwell submitted the manuscript to his wife for criticism. He +passed it over without comment, desiring the unprejudiced opinion of +the intelligent general reader, and Mrs. Maxwell read it twice, very +carefully, before she handed it back. When she did there was a mist +over her bright brown eyes. + +"The darling thing!" she cried. "Who wrote it, Bob? It's as clever as +it can be, and yet there's something about it that makes me feel queer +and choky. It's--it's"--her face brightened--"it's something like the +feeling I had when little Bobbie wrote me his first letter, that time +I went home to take care of mother. One almost expects to see the +words staggering down one side of the page in dear little, crooked, +printed letters. It's the manuscript of a grown-up, sophisticated +baby." + +Maxwell took the copy from her, well pleased at this conjugal +confirmation of his own impression. + +"It's Harrington's," he explained, "and he's not sophisticated enough +to hurt anybody yet. But he's going to make a success of this job-- +there's no doubt of that. I'll ask him to come up to dinner to-morrow +night and go over the stuff with me a bit. I don't want to do it in +the office." + +The Western editor was equally enthusiastic the following day. He was +also glowing pleasantly in the confirmation of his own keenness of +intuition. + +"You wouldn't have seen what you had here," he explained to Maxwell, +unnecessarily. "This is pretty much like genius. This fellow will be +writing his autobiography some day, and perhaps he'll remember his +humble discoverers. Meantime, don't you spoil his work by trying to +edit it. Let it alone. It's all right." + +The column of "The Visitor from Mars" grew to two columns, and became +a strong feature of the Sunday _Searchlight_. Harrington, now in +possession of a fair weekly income and unlimited leisure, bought new +clothes, rented a sitting-room, bedroom, and bath in a comfortable +bachelor apartment-house, and spent his days browsing in libraries, +where he read omnivorously. Incidentally, he discovered not only the +telephone, telegraph, and other inventions predicted by the Sunday +editor, but a locomotive fire-box which had received some favor among +railroad officials for ten years, and a superb weapon of destruction +which had been used in the Japanese army for six. + +"He's getting on!" cried Wilson, delightedly, when Maxwell recounted +these small disappointments in an otherwise inspiring onward career. +"He's learned to dress like a gentleman, speak like a gentleman, and +look like a gentleman, and he has also learned that there have been a +few active minds in the world before his came. Give him time. He'll do +something big yet." + +Harrington promptly verified this prediction by falling in love, which +he did on a scale and with an abandon unprecedented in the history of +Park Row. It was a tempestuous upheaval for the emotional Southerner, +and every other interest in his life retired to the remotest +background and remained there, unseen and unsuspected. His choice fell +on a woman reporter of the _Searchlight_, a quiet, refined young girl, +whose journalistic activities were confined to reports of meetings of +women's clubs and the descriptions of other social events. For her +Bart Harrington commanded the morning stars to sing together, and +dared the dazzled sun to look upon her like. To him she was Laura, +Beatrice, Juliet, Francesca--the essence of all the loves of all the +ages in one perfect form. During their brief engagement he called for +her in a cab each morning, and drove her to her home each night. He +would have laid a carpet of flowers for her from the office to the +curb had it been practicable. Also, he discovered Keats and Shelley +and Byron and Swinburne, and quoted them until the office boys, who +alone remained to listen to him, demanded that increase of salary +justly attached to increased nervous strain. Swinburne, Harrington +promptly decided, he did not like. There was an earthiness in his +verse, he explained to Maxwell, a material side, wholly lacking in the +love of the right man for the right woman--in other words, in his own +love for Miss Evans. He wrote a column about this kind of love in his +Mars department, and a hundred thousand men read it with gurgles of +warm appreciation and quoted it at dinner the next night. Then he +married Miss Evans and became interested in the price of coal and +other household supplies. His absorption in these topics was almost +feverish. He talked about them morning, noon, and night. His interest +in literature flickered and died out. To Maxwell, his first and still +his best friend, he finally confided his dilemma. + +"You see, old man," he began, one morning about six months after the +wedding, "we've discovered, Clara and I, that the least we can live on +in New York is fifty dollahs a week. And you see I'm only getting +forty. It's serious, isn't it? But Clara says that if we buy all ouah +canned goods at Lacy's---" + +Maxwell stopped him with a gesture of desperation. + +"Harrington, if you say another word I shall go crazy," he announced, +with the calmness of despair. "We'll give you fifty dollars a week. +Now consider that settled, and for God's sake get your mind off it. If +you don't look out you'll be writing about coal and canned goods in +your Mars column. What are you going to write this week, anyhow?" he +demanded, with sudden suspicion. + +Harrington looked guilty. + +"I thought I'd say something about how prices have advanced," he +faltered. "Clara says that two yeahs ago--" But Maxwell had taken him +by the shoulders. + +"No, you don't!" he shouted, fiercely. "You'll keep on writing about +literature and life and lily-pads and love--that's what you'll do. If +you don't, you'll lose your job. Don't you dare to introduce a single- +dollar sign or canned tomato into those columns," he added, warningly, +as he returned to his work. + +Harrington's look of reproach as he went out haunted him for days--so +long, in fact, that he bore with extraordinary patience a confidence +that gentleman favored him with several months later. He came to the +office one morning wearing an expression oddly combined of pride and +shame, in which first one and then the other predominated. For a long +time he discussed apartments and janitors and domestic supplies, and +Maxwell humored him. Then he said: + +"I've been an awful ass, Maxwell, but that's no reason why I should +keep on being one, is it? I've got to tell you something impo'tant, +and I'm going to do it now. I can't write any more about literatuah of +the past and lily-pads of the present, as you would say. Who ca'es +about 'em? _I_ don't. The wo'ld to-day is interested in the life of +to-day. Men think about theah wo'k and theah incomes and theah homes +and theah wives and theah children, and that's _all_ they think about. +And women think about men, and that's all _they_ think about. And heah +I'm writing all the time about literatuah--literatuah." He turned the +word over in his mouth and ejected it with supreme contempt. + +As once before, Maxwell was silent in the presence of simple truth. He +rallied, however, and voiced a protest. + +"I suppose you haven't lost interest in earning your living," he +suggested, ironically. "How do you intend to do that if you give up +this job?" + +Harrington flushed a little, and cleared his throat nervously before +he spoke. Then he drew a paper from his pocket, and as his fingers +touched it his face cleared and happy pride beamed from him. + +"I've got something else," he said, simply. "I waited to see how it +would tu'n out befoah I told you. It's quite a story. You see," he +went on expansively, settling back in his chair, and swinging his foot +with the characteristic swing of the boy of two years before--"you +see, Clara needed a hat-pin, the kind that would stay in and keep a +hat _on_. None of them do, Clara said. So I made one foh huh, and +Clara's brothah saw it and thought it was a good thing. He's a lawyer, +you know. He showed it to some man with money, and they took it up and +we patented it, and now we've got a facto'y and we're selling it. +It's--it's making lots of money." He turned an apologetic eye on his +friend and continued, more firmly: "They gave me twenty thousand +dollahs down and twenty pe' cent, of the stock, and a block of stock +foh you, because I insisted on that. I want you in on my luck. Heah it +is. E.W. Hubbard is the chief backah, and he says this is wuth ten +thousand dollahs. He says every woman in Ame'ica will be wearing one +of ouah hat-pins this time next yeah." + +He laid the certificate on the table as he spoke, and for a moment +Maxwell sat staring at it, speechless. He knew Hubbard--a rich, shrewd +financier, and no leader of forlorn-hopes. If Hubbard was in the thing +the thing was all right. But a _hat-pin_! Maxwell looked at the +certificate and thought of the hat-pin, and reviewed the Harrington of +the past two years, and felt a horrible desire to laugh and to cry. +Then he pushed the paper toward the inventor. + +"It's awfully good of you, old man," he said, huskily. "But of course +I can't take this. There's no reason why you should give me ten +thousand dollars, you know." + +Harrington laughed--a queer little laugh. + +"Ain't they a reason?" he asked, lapsing in his earnestness into the +careless grammar he had almost overcome. "Well, I guess I know moah +than any one else 'bout _that_. Do you remembah the fifteen dollahs +you lent me the day I came heah? Well, suh, I was sta'ving. I hadn't +eaten fo' two days, an' I couldn't get wo'k, an' I couldn't beg. +That's why I meant to kill myself. That money saved me. Now heah's +this thing. It ain't money. It's an _idea_. It's an idea out of my +haid, an' that haid wouldn't be heah at all if it wasn't fo' you. +You've given me mah chance. What I've done ain't much, but it's +brought results, and results ah the things that count. So we'll just +call it interest, if you don't mind. I think it's goin' to be wuth +while. An' you know," he added, almost timidly, "we ah friends--ahn't +we, you and I?" + +Maxwell wrung his hand. Then he picked up the certificate, folded it, +and put it carefully into his pocket. + +"Thanks, old man," he said, quietly. "It's the biggest thing that's +ever come my way, and I'll take it--from my friend." + +Later, when Harrington had taken his jubilant departure, Maxwell +related the incident to his chief. Wilson listened with flattering +attention. At the end he nodded sympathetically. + +"He's all right," he said, "and you needn't worry about him. He's got +one quality left that sets him far enough apart from the rabble of to- +day." He looked keenly at the young man as he added, suddenly: "Of all +the fellows you've ever helped, Maxwell--and I know you've helped a +lot in one way or another--has any one of them before to-day ever +shown you any gratitude?" + +Maxwell shook his head. "Don't remember any," he admitted. "But I +didn't expect any, and don't want any." + +"And you don't get it," ended the older man, with a sigh. "It's the +rarest thing in life. So make the most of it this time, my boy. One +doesn't often meet a visitor from Mars!" + +THE END + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Many Kingdoms, by Elizabeth Jordan + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MANY KINGDOMS *** + +This file should be named mnkng10.txt or mnkng10.zip +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, mnkng11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, mnkng10a.txt + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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